name it is unnecessary to mention, happened, on a market day, to be
drinking in a public house, with several farmers with whom he was
well acquainted. The party observed from the window a countryman
purchase something at a stand in the market, and, after paying for
it, thrust his purse into his watch-pocket, in the band of his
breeches. One of the company remarked that it would be a very
difficult matter to rob the cautious man of his purse, without being
detected. The gipsy immediately offered to bet two bottles of wine
that he would rob the man of his purse, in the open and public
market, without being perceived by him. The bet was taken, and the
gipsy proceeded about the difficult and delicate business. Going up
to the unsuspecting man, he requested as a particular favor, if he
would ease the stock about his neck, which buckled behind--an
article of dress at that time in {708} fashion. The countryman most
readily agreed to oblige the stranger gentleman--as he supposed him
to be. The gipsy, now stooping down, to allow his stock to be
adjusted, placed his head against the countryman's, stomach, and,
pressing it forward a little, he reached down one hand, under the
pretense of adjusting his shoe, while the other was employed in
extracting the farmer's purse. The purse was immediately brought
into the company, and the cautious, unsuspecting countryman did not
know of his loss, till he was sent for, and had his property
returned to him."
At one time the gipsies had all Scotland divided into districts, each
of which was assigned to a particular tribe, and wo to the Tinkler who
attempted to plunder within the limits of any other territory than his
own! The chieftains issued tokens to the members of their respective
hordes when they scattered themselves over the face of the country,
and these tokens protected the bearers within their proper districts.
A safe-guard from the Baillie family, who held a royal rank among the
gipsies, was good all over Scotland.
Besides their common Scottish Christian and surnames, they had names
in their own language, as well as various pseudonyms which they
assumed from time to time in different parts of the country. When they
were travelling they used to take new names every morning, and retain
them till money was received in one way or another by every member of
the company, or at least until noon-tide; for they considered it
unlucky to set out out on a journey under their own names.
They appear never to have at a loss for "the best of eating and
drinking," and might sometimes be seen seated at their dinner on the
sward, and passing about their wine, for all the world like gentlemen.
Sir Walter Scott's father was once forced to accept the hospitality of
a party of gipsies carousing on a moor, and found them supplied with
"all the varieties of game, poultry, pigs, and so forth." That rich
and savory decoction known to the modern cuisine as _potage à la Meg
Merrilies de Derncleugh_, is a soup of gipsy invention, composed of
many kinds of game and poultry boiled together. Their style of cookery
seems rather barbarous, but we must admit that it is admirably adapted
to the wants of a rude and barbarous people, among whom ovens, spits,
pots, and stew-pans are unknown and often unattainable luxuries. To
cook a fowl, they wind a strong rope of straw tightly around the body
of the bird, just as it has been killed, with its feathers on and its
entrails untouched. It is then covered with hot peat ashes, and a slow
fire is kept up around it till it is sufficiently done. When taken
out, the half-burnt straw and feathers peel off like a shell, and
those who have tasted the food thus prepared, say it is very
palatable. One advantage the method certainly has: it affords a safe
way of cooking a stolen fowl unperceived. Meat is roasted in a similar
manner. The flesh is covered with a wrapping of rags, and then encased
in well-wrought clay. Being now covered with hot ashes or turned
before a fire, it stews in its own juices, which, being saved from
escape by the clay, combine with the rags, Mr. Simson says, to form a
thick sauce or gravy. A gipsy has a keen zest for this juicy dish; but
we doubt whether most people would devour it with a very good
appetite. Their favorite viand of all, however, can certainly not be
relished outside of the tribe. This is a kind of mutton called
_braxy_, being nothing less than the flesh of a sheep which has died
of a certain disease. It has a _sharp_ flavor which tickles their
palates amazingly. So fond of it are they, that Mr. Simson attributes
the great number of gipsies in Tweed-dale partly to the abundance of
sheep in that district, and the consequent plenty of braxy. "The flesh
of a beast which God kills," say the gipsies, "must be better than
that of one which man kills." Nevertheless they are not loath, on
occasion, to take the killing into their own hands, by stuffing wool
down a sheep's throat, so that {709} it may die as if by disease; and
then they beg the carcass from the owner.
As far as can be ascertained, the gipsies have no religious sentiments
whatever, so that an old proverb runs: "The gipsy church was built of
lard and the dogs ate it." They have a word in their language for
devil, but none for God. Of late years it has been common for them to
have their children baptized, and sometimes they attend the service
which seems to be most in repute in the place where they happen to be;
but this is only because they do not want to be known as gipsies. They
marry very young, seldom remaining single beyond the age of twenty.
Their courtship used to be performed somewhat after the Tartar
fashion, the most approved way of getting a wife being to steal one;
not that the girl was unwilling, but they seemed to have a natural
propensity to carry their dishonest practices into all the relations
of life. One Matthew Baillie, a celebrated chieftain of the tribe in
the latter part of the 18th century used to say that the toughest
battle he ever fought (and he fought many) was when he stole his bride
from her mother. The ceremonies of marriage are very curious, and
also, we must add, very disgusting. The marital relation seems to have
been on the whole pretty well respected, though there is an old
reprobate named George Drummond, mentioned in Mr. Simson's book, who
used to travel about the country with a number of wives in his
company, and chastise them with a cudgel, so that the blood followed
every blow. Sometimes, after he had knocked them senseless to the
ground, he would call out to them, "What the deevil are ye fighting
at--can ye no' 'gree? I'm sure there's no sae mony o' ye!" Divorces,
however were very common, and were attended with great parade and many
curious ceremonies. The act of separation took place over the body of
a horse sacrificed for the occasion. The rites were performed if
possible at noon, "when the sun was at his height." A priest for the
nonce was chosen by lot, and the horse, which must be without blemish
and in no manner of way lame, was then led forth.
"The priest, with a long pole or staff in his hand, [Footnote 176]
walks round and round the animal several times; repeating the names
of all the persons in whose possession it has been, and extolling
and expatiating on the rare qualities of so useful an animal. It is
now let loose, and driven from their presence to do whatever it
pleases. The horse, perfect and free, is put into the room of the
woman who is to be divorced; and by its different movements is the
degree of her guilt ascertained. Some of the gipsies now set off in
pursuit of it, and endeavor to catch it. If it is wild and
intractable, kicks, leaps dykes and ditches, scampers about and will
not allow itself to be easily taken hold of, the crimes and guilt of
the woman are looked upon as numerous and heinous. If the horse is
tame and docile, when it is pursued, and suffers itself to be taken
without much trouble, and without exhibiting many capers, the guilt
of the woman is not considered so deep and aggravated; and it is
then sacrificed in her stead. But if it is extremely wild and
vicious, and cannot be taken without infinite trouble, her crimes
are considered exceedingly wicked and atrocious; and my informant
said instances occurred in which both horse and woman were
sacrificed at the same time; the death of the horse, alone, being
then considered insufficient to atone for her excessive guilt. The
individuals who catch the course bring it before the priest. They
repeat to him all the faults and tricks it had committed; laying the
whole of the crimes of which the woman is supposed to have been
guilty to its charge; and upbraiding and scolding the dumb creature,
in an angry manner, for its conduct. They bring, as it were, an
accusation against it, and plead for its condemnation. When this
part of the trial is finished, the priest takes a large knife and
thrusts it into the heart of the horse; and its blood is allowed to
flow upon the ground till life is extinct. The dead animal is now
stretched out upon the ground. The husband then takes his stand on
one side of it, and the wife on the other; and, holding each other
by the hand, repeat certain appropriate sentences in the gipsy
language. They then quit hold of each other, and walk three times
round the body of the horse, contrariwise, passing and crossing each
other, at certain points, as they proceed in opposite directions. At
certain parts of the animal, {710} (the _corners_ of the horse, was
the gipsy's expression,) such as the hind and fore feet, the
shoulders and haunches, the head and tail, the parties halt, and
face each other; and again repeat sentences, in their own speech, at
each time they halt. The two last stops they make, in their circuit
round the sacrifice, are at the head and tail. At the head, they
again face each other, and speak; and lastly, at the tail, they
again confront each other, utter some more gipsy expressions, shake
hands, and finally part, the one going north, the other south, never
again to be united in this life. [Footnote 177] Immediately after
the separation takes place, the woman receives a token, which is
made of cast-iron, about an inch and a half square, with a mark upon
it resembling the Roman character, T. After the marriage has been
dissolved, and the woman dismissed from the sacrifice, the heart of
the horse is taken out and roasted with fire, then sprinkled with
vinegar, or brandy, and eaten by the husband and his friends then
present; the female not being allowed to join in this part of the
ceremony. The body of the horse, skin and every thing about it,
except the heart, is buried on the spot; and years after the
ceremony has taken place, the husband and his friends visit the
grave of the animal to see whether it has been disturbed. At these
visits, they walk round about the grave, with much grief and
mourning.
[Footnote 176: It appears all the gipsies, male as well as female,
who perform ceremonies for their tribe, carry long staffs. In the
Institutes of Menu, page 23, it is written: "The staff of a priest
must be of such a length as to reach his hair; that of a soldier to
reach his forehead; and that of a merchant to reach the nose."]
[Footnote 177: That I might distinctly understand the gipsy, when he
described the manner of crossing and wheeling round the corners of
the horse, a common sitting-chair was placed on its side between us,
which represented the animal lying on the ground.]
"The husband may take another wife whenever he pleases, but the
female is never permitted to marry again. [Footnote 178] The token,
or rather bill of divorce, which she receives, must never be from
about her person. If she loses it, or attempts to pass herself off
as a woman never before married, she becomes liable to the
punishment of death. In the event of her breaking this law, a
council of the chiefs is held upon her conduct, and her fate is
decided by a majority of the members; and if she is to suffer death,
her sentence must be confirmed by the king, or principal leader. The
culprit is then tied to a stake, with an iron chain, and there
cudgelled to death. The executioners do not extinguish life at one
beating, but leave the unhappy woman for a little while, and return
to her, and at last complete their work by despatching her on the
spot.
[Footnote 178: Bright, on the Spanish gipsies, says: "Widows never
marry again, and are distinguished by mourning-veils, and black
shoes made like those of a man; no slight mortification, in a
country where the females are so remarkable for the beauty of their
feet." It is most likely that _divorced female gipsies_ are
confounded here with _widows_.--Ed.]
"I have been informed of an instance of a gipsy falling out with his
wife, and, in the heat of his passion, shooting his own horse dead
on the spot with his pistol, and forthwith performing the ceremony
of divorce over the animal, without allowing himself a moments's
time for reflection on the subject. Some of the country-people
observed the transaction, and were horrified at so extraordinary a
proceeding. It was considered by them as merely a mad frolic of an
enraged Tinkler. It took place many years ago, in a wild,
sequestered spot between Galloway and Ayrshire."
The burial ceremonies of the tribes are not very fully described; but
we are told that the funeral is, or used to be, preceded by a wake,
during which furious feasting and carousing went on for several days.
In England, at one time, the gipsies burned their dead, and they still
keep as close as they can to that ancient practice, by burning the
clothes and some of the other effects of the deceased. It is the
custom of some of them to bury the corpse with a paper cap on its
head, and paper around its feet. All the rest of the body is bare
except that upon the breast, opposite the heart, is placed a cockade
of red and blue ribbons.
The country people stood in dreadful awe of the savage hordes, and in
many places the magistrates themselves were afraid to punish them.
Their honors did not disdain now and then to share a convivial bowl
with the wandering Tinklers, and the man who sat to-day with his legs
under the provost's mahogany, may have slept last night in a deserted
lime-kiln, and dined yesterday off a "sharp"-flavored joint of
"braxy." As we have said already, the farmers knew it was safer to be
the friend of the gipsy than his enemy, for he was equally generous to
those he liked, and vindictive toward those he hated. Mr. Simson tells
many an anecdote of favors shown by the tribe to their neighbors and
favorites. A widow who had often given shelter to a chief named
Charlie Graham, was in great distress for want of money to pay her
rent. Charlie lent her the amount required, then stole it back again
from the agent to whom it had been pad, and gave {711} the widow a
full discharge for the sum she had borrowed of him. This same Graham
was hanged at last, and when asked before his execution if he had ever
performed any good action to recommend him to the Mercy of God,
replied that he remembered none but the incident we have just
narrated. A dissolute old rogue of a gipsy, named Jamie Robertson, had
been often befriended by a decent man named Robert or Robin Gray. One
day a countryman passed him on the road, and as he trudged along was
singing "Auld Robin Gray," which unfortunately Jamie had never heard
before. The only Robin Gray he knew of was his kind-hearted friend,
and he made no doubt the song was intended as an insult. When the
unconscious stranger came to the words "Auld Robin Gray was a kind man
to me," the gipsy started to his feet with a volley of oaths, felled
the poor man to the ground, and nearly killed him with repeated blows.
"Auld Robin Gray was a kind man to him, indeed," exclaimed Jamie in
his wrath; "but it was not for him to make a song on Robin for that!"
The gipsy chieftains often gave safeguards to their particular
friends, which never failed to protect them from robbery or violence
at the hands of any of the gang. These passports were generally
knives, tobacco-boxes, or rings bearing some peculiar mark. To those
who had ever injured them or their people, and to vagrants of another
race who were found poaching on their allotted district, they were
savagely vindictive. A man named Thomson, who had offended them by
encroaching on one of their supposed privileges--that of gathering
rags through the country, was roasted to death on his own fire.
"But the most terrible instances of gipsy ferocity were witnessed in
their frequent battles among themselves--battles by the way, in which
the women bore their full share of wounds and glory. It was in an
engagement of this sort in the shire of Angus, where the Tinklers
fought with Highland dirks, that the celebrated gipsy Lizzie Brown met
with the mishap which spoiled her once comely face, and obtained for
her the sobriquet of "Snippy." When her nose was struck off by the
sweep of a dirk, she clapped her hand to the wound, as if little had
befallen her, and cried out in the heat of the scuffle to those
nearest her: "But in the middle of the meantime, where is my nose?" In
the spring of the year 1772 or 1773 an awful battle was fought between
two tribes at the bridge of Hawick:
"On the one side, in this battle, was the celebrated Alexander
Kennedy, a handsome and athletic man, and head of his tribe. Next to
him, in consideration, was little Wull Ruthven, Kennedy's
father-in-law. This man was known all over the country by the
extraordinary title of the Earl of Hell, [Footnote 179] and,
although he was above five feet ten inches in height, he got the
appellation of Little Wull to distinguish him from Muckle William
Ruthven, who was a man of uncommon stature and personal strength.
[Footnote 180] The earl's son was also in the fray. These were the
chief men in Kennedy's band. Jean Ruthven, Kennedy's wife, was also
present, with a great number of inferior members of the clan, males
as well as females, of all ages, down to mere children. The opposite
band consisted of old Rob Tait, the chieftain of his horde, Jacob
Tait, young Rob Tait, and three of old Rob Tait's sons-in-law. These
individuals, with Jean Gordon, old Tait's wife, and a numerous train
of youths of both sexes and various ages, composed the adherents of
old Robert Tait. These adverse tribes were all closely connected
with one another by the ties of blood. The Kennedys and Ruthvens
were from the ancient burgh of Lochmaben.
[Footnote 179: This seems a favorite title among the Tinklers. One
of the name of Young, bears it at the present time. But the gipsies
are not singular in these terrible titles. In the late Burmese war,
we find his Burmese majesty creating one of his generals "King of
Hell, Prince of Darkness."--See _Constable's Miscellany_.]
[Footnote 180: A friend, in writing me, says: "I still think I see
him (Muckie Wall) bruising the charred peat over the flame of his
furnace, with hands equal to two pair of hands of the modern day,
while his withered and hairy shackle-bones were more like the
postern joints of a sorrel cart-horse than anything else."]
{712}
"The whole of the gipsies in the field, females as well as males,
were armed with bludgeons, excepting some of the Taits, who carried
cutlasses and pieces of iron hoops notched and serrated on either
side, like a saw, and fixed to the end of sticks. The boldest of the
tribe were in front of their respective bands, with their children
and the other members of their clan in the rear, forming a long
train behind them. In this order both parties boldly advanced, with
their weapons uplifted above their heads. Both sides fought with
extraordinary fury and obstinacy. Sometimes the one band gave way,
and sometimes the other; but both, again and again, returned to the
combat with fresh ardor. Not a word was spoken during the struggle;
nothing was heard but the rattling of the cudgels and the strokes of
the cutlasses. After a long and doubtful contest, Jean Ruthven, big
with child at the time, at last received, among many other blows, a
dreadful wound with a cutlass. She was cut to the bone above and
below the breast, particularly on one side. It was said the slashes
were so large and deep that one of her breasts was nearly severed
from her body, and that the motions of her lungs, while she
breathed, were observed through the aperture between her ribs. But,
notwithstanding her dreadful condition, she would neither quit the
field nor yield, but continued to assist her husband as long as she
was able. Her father, the Earl of Hell, was also shockingly wounded;
the flesh being literally cut from the bone of one of his legs, and,
in the words of my informant, 'hanging down over his ankles, like
beefsteaks.' The earl left the field to get his wounds dressed, but,
observing his daughter, Kennedy's wife, so dangerously wounded, he
lost heart, and, with others of his party, fled, leaving Kennedy
alone to defend himself against the whole of the clan of Tait.
"Having now all the Taits, young and old, male and female, to
contend with, Kennedy, like an experienced warrior, took advantage
of the local situation of the place. Posting himself on the narrow
bridge of Hawick, he defended himself in the defile, with his
bludgeon, against the whole of his infuriated enemies. His handsome
person, his undaunted bravery, his extraordinary dexterity in
handling his weapon, and his desperate situation, (for it was
evident to all that the Taits thirsted for his blood and were
determined to dispatch him on the spot,) excited a general and
lively interest in his favor among the inhabitants of the town who
were present and had witnessed the conflict with amazement and
horror. In one dash to the front, and with one powerful sweep of his
cudgel, he disarmed two of the Taits, and, cutting a third to the
skull, felled him to the ground. He sometimes daringly advanced upon
his assailants and drove the whole band before him pell-mell. When
he broke one cudgel on his enemies, by his powerful arm, the town's
people were ready to hand him another. Still the vindictive Taits
rallied and renewed the charge with unabated vigor, and every one
present expected that Kennedy would fall a sacrifice to their
desperate fury. A party of messengers and constables at last arrived
to his relief, when the Taits were all apprehended and imprisoned,
but as none of the gipsies were actually slain in the fray, they
were soon set at liberty. [Footnote 181]
[Footnote 181: This gipsy battle is alluded to by Sir Walter Scott,
in a postscript to a letter to Captain Adam Ferguson, 16th April,
1819.
"By the by, old Kennedy, the tinker, swam for his life at Jedburgh,
and was only, by the sophisticated and timed evidence of a seceding
doctor, who differed from all his brethren, saved from a
well-deserved gibbet. He goes to botanize for fourteen years. Pray
tell this to the Duke, (of Buccleuch,) for he was an old soldier of
the duke and the duke's old soldier. Six of his brethren were, I am
told, in the court, and kith and kin without end. I am sorry so many
of the clan are left. The cause of the quarrel with the murdered man
was an old feud between two gipsy clans, the Kennedys and Irvings,
which, about forty years since gave rise to a desperate quarrel and
battle at Hawick-green, in which the grandfather of both Kennedy and
the man whom he murdered were engaged."--_Lockhart's Life of Sir
Walter Scott._ Alexander Kennedy was tried for murdering Irving at
Yarrows-ford.
This gipsy fray at Hawick is known among the English gipsies as "the
Battle of the Bridge."--Ed. ]
"In this battle, it was said that every gipsy, except Alexander
Kennedy, the brave chief, was severely wounded, and that the ground
on which they fought was wet with blood. Jean Gordon, however, stole
unobserved from her band, and, taking a circuitous road, came behind
Kennedy and struck him on the head with her cudgel. What astonished
the inhabitants of Hawick the most of all, was the fierce and
stubborn disposition of the gipsy females. It was remarked that,
when they were knocked down senseless to the ground they rose again,
with redoubled vigor and energy, to the combat. This unconquerable
obstinacy and courage of their females is held in high estimation by
the tribe. I once heard a gipsy sing a song which celebrated one of
their battles, and in it the brave and determined manner in which
the girls bore the blows of the cudgel over their heads was
particularly applauded.
"The battle at Hawick was not decisive to either party. The hostile
bands a short time afterward came in contact in Ettrick Forest, at a
place on the water of Teema called Deephope. They did not, however,
engage here, but the females on both sides, at some distance from
one another, with a stream between them, scolded and cursed, and,
clapping their hands, urged the males again to fight. The men,
however, more cautious, only observed a sullen and gloomy silence at
this meeting. Probably both parties, from experience, were unwilling
to renew the fight, being aware of the consequences which would
follow should they again close in battle. The two clans then
separated, each taking different roads, but both keeping possession
of the disputed district. In the course of a few days, they again
met in Eskdale moor, when a second desperate conflict ensued. The
Taits were here completely routed and driven {713} from the
district, in which they had attempted to travel by force.
"The country people were horrified at the sight of the wounded
Tinklers after these sanguinary engagements. Several of them, lame
and exhausted in consequence of the severity of their numerous
wounds, were, by the assistance of their tribe, carried through the
country on the backs of asses, so much were they cut up in their
persons. Some of them, it was said, were slain outright, and never
more heard of. Jean Ruthven, however, who was so dreadfully slashed,
recovered from her wounds, to the surprise of all who had seen her
mangled body, which was sewed in different parts by her clan."
The Ruthvens mentioned in this extract belonged to a distinguished
family among the gipsies. Their male head, in those days, was a man
over six feet in height, who lived to the age of one hundred and
fifteen. In his youth he wore a white wig, a ruffled shirt, a blue
Scottish bonnet, scarlet breeches and waistcoat, a fine long blue
coat, white stockings, and silver shoe-buckles. The male gipsies at
that time were often very handsomely dressed, and so too were the
women. A favorite color with them was green. Mary Yorkston, or
Yowston, the wife of the same Matthew Baillie, whose rough manner of
courting we mentioned just now, went under the appellation of "my
lady," and "the duchess," and bore the title of queen among her tribe.
Her appearance on the road, when she was pretty well advanced in life,
is thus described: She was full six feet in height, of a stout figure,
with harsh, strongly-marked features, and altogether very imposing in
her manner. She wore a large black beaver hat tied down over her ears
with a handkerchief; a short dark blue cloak, of Spanish cut;
petticoats of dark blue camlet, barely reaching to her calves; dark
blue worsted stockings, flowered and ornamented at the ankles with
scarlet thread; and silver shoe-buckles. Sometimes instead of this
garb she wore a green gown trimmed with red ribbons. All her garments
were of excellent, substantial quality, and there was never a rag or
rent to be seen about her person. Her outer petticoat was folded up
round her haunches for a lap, with a large pocket dangling at each
side; and below her cloak she carried, between her shoulders, a small
pack containing her valuables. She bore a largo clasp-knife, with a
long, broad blade, like a dagger, and in her hand was a pole or
pike-staff that reached a foot above her head. The male branches of
the royal gipsy family of the Baillies, a hundred years ago, used to
traverse Scotland on the best horses to be found in the country,
booted and spurred, and clad in the finest scarlet and green, with
ruffles at their wrists and breasts. They wore cocked hats on their
heads, pistols at their belts, and broad-swords by their sides; and at
their horses' heels followed greyhounds and other dogs of the chase.
They assumed the manners and characters of gentlemen with wonderful
art and propriety. The women attended fairs in the attire of ladies,
sitting their ponies with all the grace and dignity of high-bred
women. Two chieftains of inferior degree to the Baillies were
Alexander McDonald and James Jamieson, brothers-in-law, remarkable for
their fine personal appearance and almost incredible bodily strength.
They were often attired in the most elegant and fashionable manner,
and McDonald frequently changed his dress three or four times in one
market-day. Now he would appear in the best of tartan, as a Highland
gentleman in full costume. Again he might be seen on horseback, with
boots, spurs, and ruffles, like a body of no little importance. And
not infrequently he wandered through the fair in his own proper garb,
as a travelling Tinkler. He had a piebald horse which he had trained
to help him in his depredations. At a certain signal it would crouch
to the ground like, a hare, and so conceal itself and its rider in a
ditch or a hollow, or behind a hedge. There was a gallant gipsy in the
seventeenth century named John Faa, {714} who, if tradition is to be
trusted, won the heart of a fair countess of Cassilis, so that she
absconded with him. Many years later there was an extensive mercantile
house at Dunbar, the heads of which, named Fall, were descendants of
this same gay deceiver. One of the Misses Fall married Sir John
Anstruther, of Elie, baronet, but her prejudiced Scottish neighbors
could not forget that she carried Tinkler blood in her veins, and poor
"Jenny Faa," as they persisted in calling her, was exposed to many an
insult. Sir John was once a candidate for election to Parliament, and
whenever Lady Jenny entered the burghs during the canvass, the streets
resounded with the old song of "Johnny Faa, the gipsy laddie," which
recounts how--
"The gipsies came to my Lord Cassilis' yett,
And oh! but they sang bonnie;
They sang sae sweet, and sae complete.
That down came our fair ladie."
It was not all a romance of love, and fine dresses, and free ranging
up and down the realm, this life of the gipsies. Magistrates were
found pretty often, not only to punish their repeated crimes of
robbery and murder, but even to put in force the old savage law
against "such as were by habit and repute Egyptians"--namely, that
"their ears be nailed to the tron or other tree, and cut off." It is
an odd fact that in this act were denounced not only gipsies, but
"_such as make themselves fools_," strolling bards, and "vagabond
scholars of the universities of St. Andrew's, Glasgow, and Aberdeen,
not licensed by the rector and dean of faculty to ask alms." There was
an old John Young, an uncle of the Charlie Graham before mentioned,
who had seven sons, and when asked where they were, he used to say
"They are all hanged." It was a pretty family record, but a just one.
Peter, one of the seven, was captain of a band of thieves whose
exploits were long remembered in the north of Scotland. He was several
times taken and sentenced to the gallows, but managed to escape. Once
being recaptured at a distance from the jail out of which he had
broken, the authorities were about to hang him on the spot, when some
one in the crowd cried out, "Peter, deny you are the man;" whereupon
he insisted that his name was John Anderson. Strange as it may appear,
he managed to get off by this device, as there was no one present who
could or would identify him.
Alexander Brown, a dashing fellow, but a dreadful rascal, and one of
the principal members of Charlie Graham's band, after repeated
escapes, was hanged at last at Edinburgh, together with his
brother-in-law, Wilson. Martha Brown, the mother of one of the
prisoners, and mother-in-law of the other, was apprehended in the act
of stealing a pair of sheets, while attending their execution. When
Charlie Graham was hanged, it was reported that the surgeons meant to
disinter his body and dissect it. To prevent this his wife or
sweetheart filled the coffin with hot lime, and then sat on the grave,
in a state of beastly intoxication, until the corpse was destroyed.
The last part of the volume before us, namely, the editor's
disquisition, we approach in fear and trembling. Old Mr. Walter Simson
seems to have been a good sort of a gentleman, for whom we cannot help
feeling a kindness, even though he did not write quite as well as
Addison; but this Mr. James Simson, editor, is a terrible fellow. He
assures us that all creation is full of unsuspected gipsies, who have
crept into every circle of society, insidiously intruded themselves
into the most respectable trades and professions; and contaminated the
best blood in Christendom. No matter where we live now, or where our
ancestors came from; it is quite possible--we are not sure that Mr.
James does not consider it almost as good as certain--that we may all
of us have some of that dark blood in our veins. Our
great-grandfathers may have been {715} hanged for horse-stealing, and
our grand-mothers, horrible thought! May have eaten "braxy."
England, Ireland, Scotland, and Wales, France, Spain, Germany, and
Italy, all have contributed their quotas to the gipsy population of
the world, and even America itself is infested with descendants of the
vagabond tinklers of the last century. It is only about a fortnight
since the newspapers told us of the arrival of a band of wandering
"Egyptians" at Liverpool, on their way to the United States, fugitives
from the advancing civilization of Scotland, to the new settlements
and free woods and plains of the great west. Now and then, though not
very often, gipsy encampments of the old orthodox kind are seen in
this country, and there have been tented gipsies near Baltimore, says
Mr. Simson, for the last seventy years. He adds that a colony of them
has existed in New England for a hundred years, and "has always been
looked upon with a singular feeling of distrust and mystery by the
inhabitants, who are the descendants of the early emigrants, and who
did not suspect their origin till lately. . . . They follow pretty
much the employments and mode of life of the same class in Europe; the
most striking feature being that the bulk of them leave the homestead
for a length of time, scatter in different directions, and reunite
periodically at their quarters, which are left in charge of some of
the feeble members of the band." Pennsylvania and Maryland contain a
great many Hungarian and German gipsies, who leave their farms to the
care of hired hands during the summer, and proceed South with their
tents.
"In the State of Pennsylvania, there is a settlement of them, on the
J---- river, a little way above H----, where they have sawmills.
About the Alleghany mountains, there are many of the tribe,
following somewhat the original ways of the race. In the United
States generally there are many gipsy peddlers, British as well as
continental. There are a good many gipsies in New York, English,
Irish, and continental, some of whom keep tin, crockery, and basket
stores; but these are all mixed gipsies, and many of them of fair
complexion. The tin-ware which they make is generally of a plain,
coarse kind; so much so, that a gipsy tin store is easily known.
They frequently exhibit their tin-ware and baskets on the streets,
and carry them about the city. Almost all, if not all, of those
itinerant cutlers and tinklers, to be met with in New-York, and
other American cities are gipsies, principally German, Hungarian,
and French. There are a good many gipsy musicians in America.
'What!' said I to an English gipsy, 'those organ-grinders!' 'Nothing
so low as that Gipsies don't _grind_ their music, sir; they _make_
it.' But I found in his house, when occupied by other gipsies, a
_hurdy-gurdy_ and tambourine; so that gipsies sometimes _grind_
music, as well as _make_ it. I know of a Hungarian gipsy who is a
leader of a negro musical band, in the city of New-York; his brother
drives one of the avenue cars. There are a number of gipsy musicians
in Baltimore, who play at parties, and on other occasions. Some of
the fortune-telling gipsy women about New-York will make as much as
forty dollars a week in that line of business. They generally live a
little way out of the city, into which they ride in the morning to
their places of business. I know of one, who resides in New-Jersey,
opposite New-York, and who has a place in the city, to which ladies,
that is, females of the highest classes, address their cards, for
her to call upon them."
We forbear quoting more about the American gipsies: the information
becomes fearfully suggestive, and it is all the more terrifying
because these people never acknowledge their descent, and however
sharply we may suspect them, we have no way of bringing the offence
home to them. The friend who shakes our hand today may be the grandson
of a vagabond who camped on our grandfather's farm, stole our
grandmother's eggs and poultry, and picked our great-uncle's pocket.
The ancestor of that beautiful girl we danced with at the last ball
may have had his ears nailed to the tree and then cut off, and the
gentleman who asks us to dinner to-morrow, may purpose entertaining us
with "sharps"-flavored mutton and a savory stew of beef juice and old
rags.
------
{716}
NEW PUBLICATIONS.
THIRTY YEARS OF ARMY LIFE ON THE BORDER.
Comprising descriptions of the Indian Nomads of the Plains;
explorations of new territory; a trip across the Rocky Mountains in
the winter; descriptions of the habits of different animals found in
the West, and the methods of hunting them; with incidents in the life
of different frontier men, etc., etc. By Colonel R. B. Marcy, U.S.A.,
author of "The Prairie Traveller." With numerous illustrations.
New-York: Harper & Brothers. 1866.
Colonel Marcy, as appears from the title of his book, has passed the
greater portion of his life among the trappers and Indians of the
frontier. His descriptions are consequently authentic, and his lively,
picturesque style makes them also extremely interesting and agreeable.
When we add to this the pleasant accompaniment of fine typographical
execution and numerous spirited illustrations, we have said enough to
recommend the book to the lovers of information combined with
entertainment, and will leave the following specimen to speak for the
whole work.
THE COLORADO CAÑON.
I refer to that portion of the Colorado, extending from near the
confluence of Grand and Green rivers, which is known as the "Big Cañon
of the Colorado." This cañon is without doubt one of the most
stupendous freaks of nature that can be found upon the face of the
earth. It appears that by some great paroxysmal, convulsive throe in
the mysterious economy of the wise laws of nature, an elevated chain
of mountains has been reft asunder, as if to admit a passage for the
river along the level of the grade at the base. The walls of this
majestic defile, so far as they have been seen, are nearly
perpendicular; and although we have no exact data upon which to base a
positive calculation of their altitude, yet our information is amply
sufficient to warrant the assertion that it far exceeds anything of
the kind elsewhere known.
The first published account of this remarkable defile was contained in
the works of Castenada, giving a description of the expedition of Don
Francisco Vasquez de Coronado in search of the "seven cities of
Cibola"--in 1540-1.
He went from the city of Mexico to Sonora, and from thence penetrated
to Cibola; and while there despatched an auxiliary expedition, under
the command of Don Garcia Lopez de Cardenas, to explore a river which
emptied into the Gulf of California, called "_Rio del Tison,_" and
which, of course, was the _Rio Colorado_.
On reaching the vicinity of the river, he found a race of natives, of
very great stature, who lived in subterranean tenements covered with
straw or grass. He says, when these Indians travelled in very cold
weather, they carried in their hands a firebrand, with which they kept
themselves warm.
Captain Sitgreaves, who in 1862 met the Mohave Indians on the Colorado
river, says "they are over six feet tall;" and Mr. R. H. Kern, a very
intelligent and reliable gentleman, who was attached to the same
expedition, and visited the lower part of the great cañon of the
Colorado, says: "The same manners and customs (as those described by
Castenada) are peculiar to all the different tribes inhabiting the
valley of the Colorado, even to the use of the brand for warming the
body. These Indians, as a mass, are the largest and best-formed men I
ever saw, their average height being an inch over six feet."
The Spanish explorer says he travelled for several days along the
crest of the lofty bluff bordering the cañon, which he estimated to be
three leagues high, and he found no place where he could pass down to
the water from the summits. He once made the attempt at a place where
but few obstacles seemed to interfere with the descent, and started
three of his most active men. They were gone the greater part of the
day, and on their return informed him that they had only succeeded in
reaching a rock about one third the distance down. This rock, he says,
appeared from the top of the cañon about six feet high, but they
informed him that it was as high as the spire of the cathedral at
Seville in Spain.
The river itself looked from the summit of the cañon, to be something
like a fathom in width, but the Indians assured him it was half a
league wide.
Antoine Lereux, one of the most reliable and best informed guides in
New Mexico, told me in 1858, that he had once been at a point of this
cañon where he estimated the walls to be _three miles high_.
{717}
Mr. Kern says, in speaking of the Colorado: "No other river in North
America passes through a cañon equal in depth to the one alluded to.
The description (Castenada's) is made out with rare truth and force.
We had a view of it from the San Francisco mountain, N. M., and
judging from our own elevation, and the character of the intervening
country, I have no doubt the walls are at least fire thousand feet in
height."
The mountaineers in Utah told me that a party of trappers many years
since built a large row-boat, and made the attempt to descend the
river through the defile of the cañon, but were never heard from
afterward. They probably dashed their boat in pieces, and were lost by
being precipitated over sunken rocks or elevated falls.
In 185- Lieutenant Ives of the United States Engineers, was ordered to
penetrate the cañon with a steamer of light draught. He ascended the
river from the gulf as high as a little above the mouth of the gorge,
but there encountered rapids and other obstacles of so serious a
character that he was forced to turn back and abandon the enterprise,
and no other efforts have since been made under government auspices to
explore it.
A thorough examination of this cañon might, in my opinion, be made by
taking small row-boats and ascending the river from the debouche of
the gorge at a low stage of water. In this way there would be no
danger of being carried over dangerous rapids or falls, and the boats
could be carried round difficult passages. Such an exploration could
not, in my judgment, prove otherwise than intensely interesting, as
the scenery here must surpass in grandeur any other in the universe.
Wherever we find rivers flowing through similar formations elsewhere,
as at the "_dalles_" of the Columbia and Wisconsin rivers, and in the
great cañons of Red and Canadian rivers, although the escarpments at
those places have nothing like the altitude of those upon the
Colorado, yet the long continued erosive action of the water upon the
rock, has produced the most novel and interesting combinations of
beautiful pictures. Imagine, then, what must be the effect of a large
stream like the Colorado, traversing for two hundred miles a defile
with the perpendicular walls towering five thousand feet above the bed
of the river. It is impossible that it should not contribute largely
toward the formation of scenery surpassing in sublimity and
picturesque character any other in the world. Our landscape painters
would here find rare subjects for their study, and I venture to hope
that the day is not far distant when some of the most enterprising of
them may be induced to penetrate this new field of art in our only
remaining unexplored territory. I am confident they would be
abundantly rewarded for their trouble and exposure, and would find
subjects for the exercise of genius, the sublimity of which the most
vivid imaginations of the old masters never dreamed of.
A consideration, however, of vastly greater financial and national
importance than those alluded to above, which might and probably would
result from a thorough exploration of this part of the river, is the
development of its mineral wealth.
In 1849 I met in Santa Fé that enterprising pioneer, Mr. F. X. Aubrey,
who had just returned from California, and en route had crossed the
Colorado near the outlet of the _Big Cañon_, where he met some
Indians, with whom, as he informed me, he exchanged leaden for golden
rifle-balls, and these Indians did not appear to have the slightest
appreciation of the relative value of the two metals.
That gold and silver abound in that region is fully established, as
those metals have been found in many localities both east and west of
the Colorado. Is it not therefore probable that the walls of this
gigantic crevice will exhibit many rich deposits? Companies are formed
almost daily, and large amounts of money and labor expended in sinking
shafts of one, two, and three hundred feet with the confident
expectation of finding mineral deposits; but here nature has opened
and exposed to view a continuous shaft two hundred miles in length,
and five thousand feet in depth. In the one case we have a small shaft
blasted out at great expense by manual labor, showing a surface of
about thirty-six hundred feet, while here nature gratuitously exhibits
ten thousand millions of feet, extending into the very bowels of the
earth.
Is it, then, at all without the scope of rational conjecture to
predict that such an immense development of the interior strata of the
earth--such a huge gulch, if I may be allowed the expression,
extending so great a distance through the heart of a country as rich
as this in the precious metals, may yet prove to be the _El Dorado_
which the early Spanish explorers so long and so fruitlessly sought
for; and who knows but that the government might here find a source of
revenue sufficient to liquidate our national debt?
Regarding the exploration of this river as highly important in a
national aspect, I in 1858 submitted a paper upon the subject to the
War Department, setting forth my views somewhat in detail, and
offering my services to perform the work; but there was then no
appropriation which could be applied to that object, and the Secretary
of War for this reason declined ordering it.
CHRISTINE; A TROUBADOUR'S SONG,
and other Poems. By George H. Miles. New York: Lawrence Kehoe. 1866.
Mr. Miles's poem, "Christine," has {718} been already before our
readers, in the pages of the Catholic World, and we are sure that its
appearance in book form will be welcomed by all who have perused its
beautiful verses.
It is the work of an artist, and as such, one likes to have it, as it
were, completely under view, and not scattered in fragments amidst
other productions which intrude upon our vision, and interrupt its
continuity.
Mr. Miles has given us a poem of no ordinary merit. Powerfully
dramatic, it not only paints the scenes of the story in strong, vivid
colors, but brings the actors into a living reality as they pass
before us. Few writers of our day possess much dramatic power, and
this accounts for their short-lived fame. He who would write for fame
must give us pictures of real life, and not pure reflective sentiment.
Poetry and its more subtle-tongued sister, music, are as much nobler
and worthier of immortality than are painting or sculpture, as the
reality is superior to the image. Poetry and music are the true
clothed in the beautiful, whilst painting and sculpture can only give
us beautiful yet lifeless images of the true. The Psalms of David
remain, but the Temple of Solomon and all its glory is departed.
Poetry, the purest form of language, is also the best expression of
divine, living and eternal truth, in so far as humanity can express
it. Being the expression of absolute truth, poetry and music are the
truly immortal arts which will live in heaven. No one ever yet
imagined that the blessed, in presence of the Unveiled Truth, will
express their beatitude in painted or sculptured images; but the
revealed vision of the inspired poet, who drew his inspiration at the
Source of truth, upon whose bosom he leaned, telling us of the saints,
"harping upon their harps of gold," and "singing the song of the
Lamb," finds a responsive assent in all our minds. Caught up into the
embrace of the infinitely true, and the infinitely beautiful, they
must necessarily give expression to that upon which the soul lives,
and with which it is wholly enlightened.
There, too, they must possess a _quasi_ creative power of expression
of the true, (in so far as they are thus endowed by virtue of their
union with God, who is pure act, through the Word made Flesh,) just as
we possess it here in germ by the dramatic form, which actualizes to
us the otherwise abstract truth expressed. Hence the superiority of
the dramatic, in which of course we include the descriptive, over the
sentimental. Mr. Miles possesses this genius in no mean degree, as he
has already shown in his "Mahomet." The poem before us abounds in
dramatic passages of rare beauty. Let our readers turn to the third
song, and read the flight of Christine. They will find it to be a
description unsurpassed in the English language. The death of
"faithful Kaliph," and the knight's tender plaint over his "gallant
grey," forgetful of even his rescued spouse, introduced to us in the
flush of victory over the demon foe, just when our stronger passions
are wrought up to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, is one of those
sudden and thrilling transitions from the sublime to the pathetic
which may crown Mr. Miles as a master of the poet's pen.
"Raphael Sanzio" dying, the first of the additional poems, possesses
much of the merit we have signalized, but its versification and
wording are too harsh for the subject. It is not the death of him whom
we have known as Raphael. It reads as though told by one who was
forced to admire, yet did not love, the great artist. There is a
charming little poem, entitled, "Said the Rose," which is worth all
the minor poems put together, if poetry can be valued against poetry.
We may say, at least, that it alone is worth many times the price of
the whole volume; and our readers, who may have already enjoyed the
perusal of "Christine" in our pages, will not fail to thank us for
this hint to purchase the complete volume.
Mr. Kehoe, the publisher, is giving us some creditable books, as the
"Life and Sermons of Father Baker," the "May Carols of Aubrey de
Vere," and "The Works of Archbishop Hughes," bear testimony. The
present one is got up in a superior manner, both in type, paper, and
binding, and is a worthy dress for author's work.
HISTORY OF ENGLAND, FROM THE FALL OF
WOLSEY TO THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH.
By James Anthony Froude, M.A., late Fellow of Exeter College, Oxford.
Vols. V. and VI. 8vo, pp. 474, 495. New York: Charles Scribner & Co.
Mr. Froude's thorough-going Protestantism is by this time too familiar
to our {719} readers for them to expect a very lively satisfaction in
reading the story of the reigns of Edward VI. and Mary which he has
given in these volumes. We have neither the space nor the inclination
to follow him in his review of those melancholy times. We prefer to
accord a hearty recognition to the undoubted merits of his work; his
graphic and picturesque style; his artistic eye for effect; his
excellent judgment in the examination of old-time witnesses; and the
rare self-control which in the midst of his abundance of hitherto
unused material has saved him from encumbering his pages and
overloading his narrative with facts and illustrations of only minor
interest. He gives us sometimes little bits of truth where we had
least reason to look for them. Cordially as he detests Mary the queen,
he is tenderer than most historians of his ultra sort to Mary the
woman. "From the passions which in general tempt sovereigns into
crime," he says, "she was entirely free; to the time of her accession
she had lived a blameless, and in many respects a noble life; and few
men or women have lived less capable of doing knowingly a wrong thing.
Philip's conduct, which could not extinguish her passion for him, and
the collapse of the inflated imaginations which had surrounded her
supposed pregnancy, it can hardly be doubted, affected her sanity.
Those forlorn hours when she would sit on the ground with her knees
drawn to her face; those restless days and nights when, like a ghost,
she would wander about the palace galleries, rousing herself only to
write tear-blotted letters to her husband; those bursts of fury over
the libels dropped in her way; or the marchings in procession behind
the Host in the London streets[!]--these are all symptoms of
hysterical derangement, and leave little room, as we think of her, for
other feeling than pity." The persecution, for which her reign is
remembered was partly the result, Mr. Froude thinks, of "the too
natural tendency of an oppressed party to abuse suddenly recovered
power." Moreover, "the rebellions and massacres, the political
scandals, the universal suffering throughout the country during
Edward's minority, had created a general bitterness in all classes
against the Reformers; the Catholics could appeal with justice to the
apparent consequences of heretical opinions; and when the Reforming
preachers themselves denounced so loudly the irreligion which had
attended their success, there was little wonder that the world took
them at their word, and was ready to permit the use of strong
suppressive measures to keep down the unruly tendencies of
uncontrolled fanatics."
Mr. Froude's history will be completed in two more volumes.
A GENERAL HISTORY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH:
from the Commencement of the Christian Era until the Present Time. By
M. l'Abbé J. E. Darras. Vol. III. P. O'Shea, New-York.
The period comprised by the third volume of this admirable history
extends from the pontificate of Sylvester II. A.D. 1000 to that of
Julius II. a.d. 1513. To our mind the terrible struggle which the
church sustained during those four eventful centuries is more
wonderful than her deadly strife in the days of Roman persecution and
martyrdom. The church is a divine-human institution; and inasmuch as
it is human, it must suffer from human infirmity, but the Spirit of
God abideth for ever in it, preserving the truth amidst heresies, the
purity of the Christian law amidst moral degradation, and at last
crowning. His spouse with new glories for her patiently borne
sufferings.
On every page of the church's history, and on none more clearly than
that which records her life from the eleventh to the sixteenth
century, is that promise written, "And the gates of hell shall not
prevail against it." We again add our cordial commendation of the work
of M. Darras, and hope its publication will prove to the enterprising
publisher as successful as it is opportune.
THE AMERICAN ANNUAL CYCLOPAEDIA AND REGISTER OF CURRENT EVENTS OF THE
YEAR 1866. Vol. V. New-York: D. Appleton. 1867.
This is a valuable compendium of information respecting the current
events of the year. It is particularly complete as regards American
politics and the literature of the English language. On other topics
it is more general and superficial, especially so in its history of
the progress of science. For instance, there is no record whatever of
the history of geology during the year. The great defect of the
Cyclopaedia, as a whole, is an unnecessary minuteness in regard to
{720} persons and things of our own time and country which have no
real and permanent interest, and a corresponding lack of minuteness in
regard to matters of other times and countries which are really
important. It would be a good idea for the publishers to invite all
the scholars in the country to send in a list of titles of articles
whose absence they have noticed in consulting the work for
information, and from these to prepare a supplementary volume. In
regard to all questions relating to the Catholic Church, the
Cyclopaedia is remarkable throughout for its fairness and
impartiality--a merit which is to be ascribed in great measure to its
learned and genial editor, Mr. Ripley.
AUNT HONOR'S KEEPSAKE.
A Chapter from Life. By Mrs. J. Sadlier.
TEN STORIES FROM THE FRENCH OF BALLEYDIER.
Translated by Mrs. J. Sadlier.
THE EXILE OF TADMOR, AND OTHER TALES.
Translated by Mrs. J. Sadlier.
TALES AND STORIES.
Translated from the French of Viscount Walsh. By Mrs. J. Sadlier.
VALERIA, OR THE FIRST CHRISTIANS, AND OTHER STORIES.
Translated from the French of Balleydier and Madame Bowdon. By Mrs. J.
Sadlier.
THE BLIGHTED FLOWER, AND OTHER TALES.
Translated from the French of Balleydier. By Mrs. J. Sadlier.
STORIES ON THE BEATITUDES.
By Agnes M. Stewart, authoress of "Stories on the Virtues," etc.
New-York: D.J. Sadlier & Co. 1866.
----
A FATHER'S TALES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
First Series. By the author of "Confessors of Connaught."
RALPH BERRIEN, AND OTHER TALES OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
Second Series. By the author of "Grace Morton," "Philip Hartly," etc.
CHARLES AND FREDERICK, OR A MOTHER'S
PRAYER, AND ROSE BLANCH, OR TWELFTH
NIGHT IN BRITTANY.
THE BEAUFORTS. A STORY OF THE ALLEGHENIES.
By Cora Berkley.
SILVER GRANGE. A CATHOLIC TALE, AND
PHILLIPINE, A TALE OF THE MIDDLE AGES.
Compiled by the author of "Grace Morton."
HELENA BUTLER.
A story of the Rosary and the Shrine of the "Star of the Sea."
Philadelphia: Peter F. Cunningham.
These volumes are a valuable addition to our list of books for
Catholic children.
"Aunt Honor's Keepsake," by Mrs. J. Sadlier, presents a vivid picture
of the wrongs and outrages suffered by Catholic children and parents
from the agents of the so-called "Juvenile Reformatories." We also
have a translation of several instructive tales from the French by the
same talented writer. Agnes Stewart gives us a number of well-written
stories on the beatitudes. We heartily commend this effort to provide
suitable reading for Catholic children. It is a pressing want. Their
active minds eagerly demand something to read. If we do not provide
safe and proper reading for them, they will find that which is not so.
We have also an addition of six new volumes to the "Young Catholic
Library," published by P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia. The subjects
are well chosen and most of the stories beautifully written. We
notice, however, at times, a straining after high-sounding
expressions--an absence of that simplicity so necessary in such tales
for children. There is also a tendency in writers for children to
sprinkle in so much of the romantic and unreal as to make their story
a kind of "novelette." Such reading creates in the mind of the young a
feverish desire for romance, which can only be satisfied in after
years by the novel.
There is enough in the realities of life to startle and fix the
attention of any child if properly presented. We trust a larger number
of books suitable for children may be provided by those writers who
have the time and talent requisite for the work. We know of no way in
which they can more usefully employ their pen.
The style in which these volumes are issued makes them suitable for
gift-books and is creditable to the publishers. We would also like to
see some in plain, durable bindings, better suited for the hard usage
they receive in a Sunday-school or parish library.
BOOKS RECEIVED
From D. & J. Sadlier &Co., New York. "The Bit O'Writin'," and Other
Tales. "Mayor of Wind-Gap and Canvassing," by the O'Hara Family. 12mo,
pp. 406 and 414 (The above are two new volumes of Banim's works.)
Parts 21, 22, 23, and 24 of d'Artaud's Lives of the Popes.
From P. Donohue. Boston.
Annual Report of the Association for the Protection of Destitute Roman
Catholic Children in Boston, from January 1, 1865, to January 1, 1866.
Pamphlet.
From P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia.
Alphonso; or, the Triumph of Religion. A Catholic Tale. 12mo, pp. 878.
From Robert H. Johnston & Co.,
New-York. The Valley of Wyoming: The Romance of its Poetry. Also
specimens of Indian Eloquence. Compiled by a native of the valley.
12mo, pp. 153.
------
{721}
THE CATHOLIC WORLD
VOL, III., NO. 18.--SEPTEMBER, 1866.
[ORIGINAL.]
THE DOCTRINE OF THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH CONCERNING
THE NECESSITY OF EPISCOPAL ORDINATION.
[Footnote 182]
[Footnote 182: "A Vindication of the Doctrine of the Church of
England, or the Validity of the Orders of the Scotch and Foreign
Non-Episcopal Churches." By W. Goode, M.A., F.S.A., Rector of All
Hallows the Great and Less. London. 1852.
"Does the Episcopal Church teach the Exclusive Validity of Episcopal
Orders?" By William Goode, M. A. New York. 185-
"Vox Ecclesiae; or, The Doctrine of the Protestant Episcopal Church
on Episcopacy," etc. Philadelphia. 1866.]
Within the past few years, certain circles of the Protestant Episcopal
Church have been thrown into no small commotion by a controversy which
has arisen between the two great parties, into which she is divided,
over the question, Whether or not it is her doctrine that episcopal
ordination is necessary to constitute a valid ministry? The contest
seems to have been opened by the Rev. William Goode, rector of All
Hallows, London, who in the year 1852 published a treatise maintaining
the negative of the proposition; "Is it the doctrine of the Church of
England that episcopal ordination is a _sine qua non_ to constitute a
valid ministry?" In support of his position, he adduced those articles
and other formularies of his church, which relate to this subject; the
testimony of those divines who drew up these standards, as
interpreting the same, together with the sense in which they were
received by their successors in the clerical office for the ensuing
hundred years; and the conduct of the church toward the Continental
Protestant societies and in the ordering of her own hierarchy for the
same period of time. So successful was this author in his argument,
and so triumphant was his vindication of this peculiar principle of
the Low Church party, that his work was at once hailed by them, in
England and in America, as the "End of Controversy" upon this point;
was adopted by their publication societies as an "unanswerable defence
of the validity of non-episcopal orders," and was claimed by one of
their leading journals to be effectual in "banishing and driving away
the last doubt, which hung upon some minds, from the boldness and
continuity of assertion that the Episcopal Church disallowed the
validity of other than episcopal orders."
{722}
How completely "banished and driven away" from some minds that last
doubt was, events of a startling character soon made manifest.
"Certain clergymen of the diocese of New York adopted a course
destined to change the settled practice of the church, if not to
change its whole character. They turned their backs upon all
existing laws and all previous usage in connection with such
matters, and openly admitted to their pulpits ministers who had not
had episcopal ordination. . . . . Of course, an innovation so
startling and so daring occasioned much excitement. The Bishop of
the diocese issued a pastoral letter, in which, in the kindest
language and most reasonable spirit, he pointed out to those
gentlemen the unlawfulness of their course. And _there_, if they had
been lovers of order and of peace, the whole matter might have
rested. But, however gentle the reproof or remonstrance, it was
still an exercise of authority, and that was hard to bear. Therefore
the reverend gentlemen rushed into print at once, and strove to give
to the whole matter the air of simple controversy, on equal terms,
between the Bishop and themselves. They represented him as the
advocate of a narrow partisan policy, and not as their
ecclesiastical superior to whom they had solemnly promised
obedience, and whose duty compelled him to give them a reproof.
Their 'letters,' 'reviews,' and 'replies to the pastoral' have been
sent everywhere throughout the country, and have served to show that
some Episcopalians pay but little respect 'to those who are over
them in the Lord;' that they are not much disposed to 'submit to
their judgment,' and 'to follow with a glad mind and will their
godly admonitions.'" (Vox Ecclesiae, vi.)
Such was the state of affairs, when a reply to "Goode on Orders"
issued from the Philadelphia press, professing to demolish its
conclusions and to clear the doctrine of the Episcopal Church, on the
point in question, from all ambiguity. This was the work of an elegant
and judicious but anonymous writer, who, though disclaiming all
tendencies to Puseyism, is, nevertheless, manifestly a High Churchman
of strong and well-founded principles, and who has received on account
of this reply, the highest commendations from many of the bishops and
clergy of his church. His book is entitled "Vox Ecclesiae." The
proposition he seeks to demonstrate is, "That the answer of the
Episcopal Church to the question, 'What is the true and scriptural
mode of church government, and what constitutes a true and proper
organization?' would be, 'That episcopal government and ordination by
bishops are the only modes of government or ordination recognized by
that church as scriptural or proper.'" In support of this, he also,
like his antagonist, relies upon the doctrinal and devotional
standards of the church; her laws and principles as set forth in her
canons and other official acts; those works which by her special
endorsement have been raised to a semi official authority; and,
lastly, the opinions of her eminent divines. The conclusion, which
this exhaustive argument claims to have established, is that the
church of England never recognized the validity of Presbyterian
orders, _as such_, but, on the contrary, has ever held the doctrine of
episcopacy by divine right and apostolical succession; a conclusion
diametrically opposite to that of the first writer, whose book has, by
this one, in the language of the American Churchman, been "So
effectually answered that we believe it will ask no more questions for
all time to come." This work in its time has received the highest
encomiums from the Right Rev. Bishops Hopkins, Kemper, Atkinson, Coxe,
Williams, Clark, and Randall, the Rev. Drs. Coit, Adams, Morton,
Mason, Wilson, Meade, and other leaders of that party of the Episcopal
Church, whose views it professes to embody, is already catalogued by
them "among the best standard works of the church," and has been
gratuitously circulated in its general seminary at New York, as a
thorough antidote to the dangerous heresy of Mr. Goode.
From these two works, it might fairly be presumed, that we may, at
last, gain a tolerably correct idea of the doctrine of the episcopal
Church concerning the necessity of episcopal ordination. "Goode on
Orders" is the "unanswerable" organ of one great party of that church.
"Vox Ecclesiae" is the equally unanswerable organ of the other. And in
these two great parties, and in the {723} undefinable middle ground
between them, may be ranked at least ninety-nine one handredths of the
laity and nearly all the clergy of that large and influential
religious body.
To us Catholics it certainly, at first sight, seems a little singular,
that in a church which bases upon an unbroken episcopal succession its
whole claim to external unity with the primitive Catholic Church,
there should be any doubt whether or not that church herself believes
and teaches that such an unbroken succession is essential to the
existence of a visible church; that in a denomination, which, for
ages, has claimed superiority to other Protestant sects on almost the
sole ground of her episcopally ordained ministry, there should be any
controversy as to her doctrine on the necessity of such a ministry.
But it is only one of those anomalies which meet us everywhere outside
the Ark of Peter; which are the inevitable results of deviation,
however slight, from the true source of apostolic unity. The ocean is
as deep beneath the Ship of Christ as it is miles away. He that goes
down under her very shadow is as effectually drowned as he that
perishes beneath a sky whose horizon is unbroken by a single sail. It
is as well among those who are most near us as among those who are
most removed that we must look for the old marks of error, and this
boldness of assertion and internal doubt is one of them. Before we
close, it may be given us to show that this doubt is indeed well
grounded and that this inconsistency is more consistent with the
actual _status_ of the Episcopal Church than many, even of her
enemies, would dream.
Upon that fundamental principle which underlies the whole fabric of an
organized Christian society, namely, the necessity of some
authoritative ordination, there seems to be no question in the
Episcopal Church. That man cannot originate a church; that Christ did
originate one; that, conveying his power of mission and orders to his
apostles, he left it to them to convey to their successors; that by
them and by their successors it ever has been so conveyed; and that,
at this day, no man has any right or power to fulfil the office of a
minister of Christ unless he has received authority through this
source; are tenets common to all Christians who recognize a visible
church and believe in and maintain a regular ministry. However they
may differ as to the channel through which this power has descended:
whether, like the Presbyterians, denying the existence of a third
order in the ministry, they claim that priests and bishops are the
same, and thus that presbyters are the appointed agents of Christ in
perpetuating the line of Christian teachers, or whether, like
denominations far more radical, they confer on individual preachers,
of whatever grade, the right to raise others at their pleasure to the
same dignities and power--this principle is still maintained. It is,
therefore, but natural, that while Mr. Goode and his Low Church
followers scout the title "Apostolical Succession" as "monstrous" and
"heretical," their whole ailment should presuppose the existence of
the very state of facts, to which, in its most general construction,
that title is applied, and should admit the necessity of such a
"succession," through some channel, as the basis of all external,
collective Christian life. That the High Church party also abide in
this doctrine every page of "Vox Ecclesiae" makes manifest, and from
what one thus necessarily implies and the other expressly declares, we
feel safe in concluding that "succession in the mission and authority
of the apostles" is held and taught by the Episcopal Church as
necessary to the existence of a valid ministry.
We may even go a step farther. If "tactual succession" signifies
merely that some visible or audible commission must pass from the
minister ordaining to the man ordained, without supposing any
particular act or word to be necessary to such "tactual succession,"
we may regard this also as {724} being a point upon which
Episcopalians raise no issue. The High Churchman may know no other
"tactual" ordination than "the laying on of hands." Mr. Goode and his
party might perhaps scruple to adopt such an interpretation, for,
though scriptural and primitive, it is not of the essence of the
ministerial commission. But that "succession," perpetuated by means of
some actual commission, visibly or audibly moving from the ordainer to
the ordained, is necessary, neither of these adversaries will deny.
Here, however, all acknowledged unity of doctrine ceases. "What is the
appointed channel of this ministerial authority?" "Is it confined to
one rank of the ministry, or possessed by two?" "Is _episcopal_
succession necessary to the validity of holy orders?" are questions on
which their disagreement appears, to them, irreconcilable. The organs
of both parties here speak with no uncertain sound. Each denounces the
teachings of the other with unsparing acerbity. Mr. Goode
characterizes the doctrines of his opponents as "at variance with the
spirit of Christian charity" and "the facts of God's providence," as
"having no foundation in Holy Scripture, and leading to consequences
so dreadful that it is simply monstrous in any one to teach them." The
"voice of the church" with equal plainness of speech replies, "He who
looks upon Episcopacy as a thing of expediency, who talks of parity
between bishop and presbyter, and who denounces 'Apostolical
succession' as a _monstrous_ theory, has no place among them. HE IS
NOT A LOW CHURCHMAN? he is not an Episcopalian in any proper sense at
all." (p. 487.)
The formal statement of the Low Church doctrine, as explained by Mr.
Goode, may thus be made: That the highest order of ministers,
appointed by Christ or enjoying any direct scriptural authority, is
that of presbyters or elders, in which order inheres, _ex ordine_, the
powers of government and ordination; that the apostles, selecting from
among the presbytery certain men called bishops, appointed them to
exercise these powers; that, consequently, government by bishops and
episcopal ordination rest upon apostolic precedent, and are sanctioned
by the constant observance of fifteen hundred years; that this
appointment, however, in no wise conferred upon such bishop any power
of order which he had not before, or deprived the remaining presbyters
of those equal powers which they possessed already: and, therefore,
that ordination by presbyters alone, although not regular or in
accordance with established precedent, is truly valid, and confers
upon the person so ordained all the rights and authority of a minister
of Christ. This doctrine is essential Presbyterianism. On the
questions of historical fact--whether the apostles did appoint bishops
and confine to them the office of ordaining others, and whether such
practice was adhered to unvaryingly from their day till that of
Calvin; as, also, on the relative weight and importance of such a
precedent, if it does historically exist--they certainly disagree. But
on the main question their decision is identical: that ordination is a
power of the presbyter by divine institution and of the presbyter
only, and that the episcopate, wherever it exists, possesses these
powers solely by virtue of the presbyterate which it includes.
The doctrine of the High Church party, on the other hand, is thus laid
down in "Vox Ecclesiae:" That Christ instituted, either by his own act
or that of his apostles, three several orders of ministers in his
church, and to the first of these, called bishops, and to them alone,
intrusted the power and authority of ordaining pastors for his flock;
that this episcopate is, therefore, of divine commandment, and cannot
be neglected or abolished without sin, neither can any ordination be
valid or confer authority to preach the word or minister the
sacraments unless performed by bishops; that, consequently,
presbyterian orders, being bestowed {725} by men who have no power or
commission to ordain, are, _ipso facto_, void: EXCEPT in cases of real
necessity, where, if episcopal ordination cannot be obtained,
presbyters may validly ordain. This doctrine is, in the main, that
which we have always supposed the great majority of Episcopalians
help. As we have never seen the "exception" so fully stated in any
authoritative work as it is in this, we give it in the author's own
language, as it occurs in several portions of his book. Thus on page
62--
"'_Necessitas non habet legem_' was a Roman proverb, the propriety and
force of which must be acknowledged by all. In reference to our
present subject, one of the most eminent of the defenders of our
church uses almost the very words, viz. '_Nisi coegerit dura
necessitas cui nulla lex est posita_.' (Hadrian Saravia's reply to
Beza.) The principle then is fully admitted. Necessity excuseth every
defect or irregularity which it _really_ occasions." On page 313, an
extract from the same Saravia is given, as follows: "Although I am of
opinion that ordinations of ministers of the church properly belong to
bishops, yet NECESSITY causes that, when they are wanting and CANNOT
BE HAD, _orthodox presbyters can, in case of necessity_, ordain a
presbyter;" and the author says of it, "We take this as Mr. Goode
gives it." It is the strongest sentence in the whole passage, and yet
it contains no more than what nine tenths of all Episcopal writers
gladly allow, viz., (to use the words of Archbishop Parker,) "Extreme
necessity in itself implieth dispensation with all laws." Again, on
page 70, after noticing certain objections to this plea of necessity,
put forward by individual writers in the church, he continues; "There
is great force in these objections: nevertheless we think it far
better to grant all that the foreign churches claimed in the way of
necessity, inasmuch as the English Church certainly did so at the
time." A still more definite statement of the same "exception" occurs
on pages 82 and 83: "As regards the question before us, the High
Churchman and the Low Churchman unite in considering episcopacy a
divine institution, and a properly derived authority a _sine qua non_
to lawful ministering in the church. They also agree in believing that
real necessity in this, as in every other matter, abrogates law and
makes valid whatever is performed under it." We have no wish to
multiply quotations, but on this important point we desire to fall
into no error and to be guilty of no misrepresentation. We have
preferred to give the "voice of the church" in its own words, rather
than in ours, and have no hesitation in repeating the definition we
have already given, as setting forth the High Church doctrine,
strictly according to its acknowledged organ: "Episcopacy is a divine
institution, and necessary, where it can be had. Where it cannot be
had, presbyters may validly ordain."
The doctrine of the Episcopal Church, as a church, if, as a church,
she has any doctrine on the subject, must lie within these
definitions. Mr. Goode must be wholly right, and the "Vox Ecclesiae"
wholly wrong, or _vice versa_, or else both must have the truth,
mingled in each case with more or less of falsehood and confusion. If
we can reconcile the two, or if the teaching of either has that in it
which disproves itself, we may at last define the real position of
their church upon the question which involves her life.
And here we must premise, that the words "order," "Office," etc.,
which seem to be the gist of much of this controversy, are names, not
things. They mean, in the mouth, or on the pen, of any Individual,
just what that individual means by them, no less, no more. They have
never been defined authoritatively by Scripture or by any other
tribunal to which these parties own allegiance. When Mr. Goode uses
them, they may imply one thing. In the pages of "Vox Ecclesiae," they
may signify another. The whole contest, therefore, so far as {726} it
relates to the number of "orders," or whether that of the bishop is a
different "order," or only a different "office," from that of the
presbyter, is, in our view, one of names and titles only. The real
question stands thus: "Has a bishop, by divine institution, a power
which the presbyter has not, or is the same power resident in both,
and ordinarily made latent in the one, and operative in the other, by
virtue of ecclesiastical law and usage?" The answer to this question
will show how far the High and Low Church party really differ from
each other, and what is the variance, if any, between the "Vox
Ecclesiae" and Mr. Goode.
It seems to us that the "EXCEPTION," which, equally with the rule, is
admitted by the High Church doctrine to be fundamental law, answers
this question once for all. For if, in any supposable emergency,
presbyters may validly ordain, and if persons so by them ordained have
power to preach the word and minister the sacraments, then either (1.)
Necessity confers a power to ordain upon those who have it not, or
else (2.) The power to ordain is resident alike in presbyters and
bishops, and the restrictions on its exercise by presbyters are, by
that necessity, removed. If the second of these positions truly
represent the High Church theory, then, between them and Mr. Goode's
adherents, there is no essential difference, and their war, with all
its bitterness and pertinacity, is one of human words and human facts,
and not of Christian doctrine. If, to avoid this fate, the first
alternative be the one adopted, the following difficulties must be met
and answered.
1. It overthrows the entire doctrine of "succession." This fundamental
law of organic, collective, Christian life presupposes the existence
of an unbroken chain of ministers, transmitting their authority,
through generation after generation, from Christ's day to our own. It
presupposes that every man, who has himself possessed and transmitted
this authority, has received it in his turn from some other man who
possessed it and transmitted it to him, and so on back to Christ
himself. Christ thus becomes the sole source, and man the sole
channel, of ecclesiastical authority, and the right or power of any
individual to exercise the functions of the ministerial office depends
on his reception of authority therefor from this only source and
through this only channel.
But if necessity can also confer authority, or rather, to put the case
in words more expressive of its real character, if, whenever the
appointed channel cannot be had and necessity of ministers exists, God
will himself from heaven confer the authority in need, the value of
this "succession" amounts to nothing. Orders, wherever necessary, will
be had as well without it as with it, and they who have it can never
with any certainty deny the validity of orders which have it not.
Christ still may be the sole source, but man is not the only, nay, nor
the most perfect and available, channel of this authority. There is
another, surer, nearer, more direct, conveying, only to proper
persons, the gifts of God, and free from all the doubts and dangers
which result from a residence of heavenly "treasure in earthen
vessels," and the necessity which demands it is the sole condition of
its use. The High Church party, if they adopt this position, must,
therefore, become more radical than any Christian church upon the
globe. They out-Herod even their great Herod, Mr. Goode, and are more
dangerous to the cause of "apostolic order" and ecclesiastical
authority than any Low Churchmen or Separatist that ever lived.
2. It elevates human necessity above divine law. The law, by which
holy orders exist, and by which their transmission from man to man is
regulated, is unquestionably divine. "Vox Ecclesiae" goes so far as to
claim that their transmission, from bishop to bishop only, is of
divine precept, but, waiving that, it is acknowledged by all parties,
with whom we have to do at {727} present, that whatever be the human
channel, it is of Christ's appointment, and rests upon divine
authority. It is thus a _divine_ law which "necessity abrogates," a
positive institution and command of God which is to be disregarded and
disobeyed, and that because "necessity" demands it.
But this necessity is a merely human one. Orders confers on the
ordained only the power to preach and to administer the sacraments,
and it is only that those things may be done, that God's law is
despised and set aside. Yet, though the eternal salvation of the human
soul may ordinarily depend upon the preaching of the word and on the
sacraments, still nothing is _absolutely_ necessary to eternal life
that may not take place between the soul and God, independently of
bishop, priest, or church. It is thus no necessity of _God's_
creation, no necessity inevitably involving the eternal destinies of
man, that substitutes itself for the admitted law of God, but a mere
earthly need, a need based upon human views and customs and opinions,
which never received endorsement from on high, and finds no sanction
for its existence in Holy Writ. There is no irregularity which such a
position would not justify, no departure from God's ordinances which
it could consistently condemn. It would come with fearful self-rebuke
from that portion of the Episcopal Church, who for three hundred years
have practically ignored their brother Protestants, because they
judged of their own necessities and set aside the institutions of God
in order that those necessities might be supplied.
3. It legitimates every form of error and schism. For, if "necessity
_confers_ orders," the sole question in every case is, whether the
necessity existed. If there was such necessity in Germany and
Switzerland in the sixteenth century, then Lutheran and Calvinistic
orders were as valid as Episcopal, and if that necessity continues,
they are valid still. If there was such necessity in Scotland, after
the abolition of the prelacy, and that necessity continues, the orders
of the kirk are valid at this day. If there was such necessity when
John Wesley ordained Dr. Coke, and that necessity continues, Methodist
orders are as valid as his Grace of Canterbury's are. There is no
stopping-place for these deductions. If "necessity confers orders,"
not even the channel of _presbyters_ is necessary. No human instrument
at all stands between God and the recipient of his extraordinary
favor. In every case where the necessity exists, there God confers the
power of orders, and there is no sect so wild and heretical, no
ministry so dangerous and erratic, that may not claim validity upon
this ground, and that must not, on these principles, when necessity is
proven, be adjudged legitimate.
But of this necessity who shall be the judge? Shall God, who, of
course, knows all the circumstances of mankind and estimates them at
their proper value? But then, to us his judgment is useless without
expression, and his expression is _revelation_. Are those who allow
the force of this plea of necessity prepared to admit all who claim
it, for the sake of Christian charity, or will they demand a
revelation from God to satisfy them that the "necessity" was _real_?
Yet, if God be the only Judge, they must admit all or reject all until
he speaks from heaven, and in the latter case, the "EXCEPTION" might
as well have been left unmade. Or shall the church judge? And if so,
what church? The church, from which Luther, and Calvin, and Cranmer,
and Parker separated? She had her bishops ready to ordain all proper
men, and if her judgment had been taken, there would have been no
occasion for men to plead necessity. The church, from which came forth
the Puritans and Methodists? She also had her bishops, and in her view
no necessity could ever have existed. So with every church. None that
are founded in Episcopacy could ever {728} admit a necessity without
supplying it in the appointed way. And none that reject Episcopacy
would care to inquire whether or not there was any such necessity. The
church could, therefore, be no judge. She is, in every issue of this
sort, a party, not an umpire; but, were she competent to judge,
wherein is her decree less valid, when from Rome she excommunicates
the Church of England, than when from London or New York she denies
ministerial authority to Presbyterians and Universalists? Or is it the
individual? There can be no doubt in this answer. It must be. No man
can judge of a necessity except he who is placed in it. A little
colony of Christians, cast away on some Pacific island, must decide
for themselves, whether they will ordain a pastor for their flock or
utterly dispense with Christian teaching. A man, whose creed differs
from that of the church in which he lives, and yet who feels an inward
call to preach the Gospel, as he understands it, must be the sole
judge of the necessity of call, upon the one hand, which commands him
to preach, and of conscience, on the other, which forbids him to
subscribe the creed which is the unrelenting condition of his
ordination by authority. Extend it to societies and communities of
men, and the rule is the same. These societies become themselves the
judges, whether or not, in their case, necessity exists, and no other
can judge for them. The law is universal. If necessity be a
justification, it must be necessity as judged of by the parties in
necessity, and not as judged of by God, unknown to men, or by a church
which either will supply the need or treat the whole matter as of
little moment. There thus becomes no limit to necessities. They are
moral as well as physical. They grow out of duties and
responsibilities, as well as out of distances and years. Obedience to
the voice of conscience is an indispensable condition of salvation,
and no necessity is greater or more potent than the necessity of that
obedience. When the Rev. Gardiner Spring was moved, as he believed it,
by the Holy Ghost, to do the work of a minister in the church of God,
there was not a regularly ordained bishop in the world who would have
ordained him, while holding the doctrines he professed. In his case,
without a violation of his conscience and the loss of his soul,
bishops "COULD NOT BE HAD," and presbyters must have validly ordained.
When Charles Spurgeon, rejoicing in the new-found light of the Gospel,
burned to tell other men the good that God had done to him, the moral
necessity was the same, a necessity which compelled him to disobey
what he believed to be a command of God, or to receive orders from
non-Episcopal hands. Is there any need of multiplying instances? Where
is the imaginable limit to which validity must be acknowledged and
beyond which it must cease? The High Churchman who starts with the
admission, that in case of "necessity," God confers the power of
order, can never stop till he has bowed the knee before every Baal
which claims the name of Christian and opened the gifts of God to
every man who demands priestly recognition at his hands.
There are other objections to this theory, equally insuperable with
those already suggested. It can hardly be necessary, however, to
mention them. No candid mind, after seeing the real bearing of this
position on the whole question of a visible church, can hesitate a
moment to reject it. There remains only the other alternative, namely,
that necessity renders operation in presbyters a power possessed by,
but latent in, them, by removing the restrictions which, in ordinary
circumstances, apostolic precedent and ecclesiastical usage have
imposed; and as this is essentially the position advocated by Mr.
Goode, and as the difference between these parties is thus reduced, in
every case, to a question of historic or contemporaneous fact, which
no one but the individuals who plead it can adequately settle, we
conclude that {729} the sole contest as to doctrine is one of words
and definitions, and that on all material points of theory and faith
they perfectly agree. We thus feel justified in the conclusion that
the Episcopal Church of the present age has a doctrine concerning the
necessity of episcopal ordination, and that her doctrine is no less,
no more, than this: "The power of order is resident in bishops and
presbyters both, _ex ordine_, and is operative, under ordinary
circumstances, in bishops only, though in cases of necessity,
presbyters may exercise that power and validly ordain."
This doctrine is logical, coherent, and conservative. No divine
institution is thereby set aside for a mere human necessity. No
destructive principle antagonistic to the doctrine of "succession" is
thereby introduced; no gate is thereby opened for a multitudinous
throng of orthodox and heretics, ordained and unordained, to bring
disorder and confusion into the Church of God. However fatal to the
high pretensions of the Episcopal Church in generations past, and to
any claim of exclusive apostolicity at present, this doctrine is,
nevertheless, most consistent with her actual _status_ in the
religious world. Thoroughly Protestant in doctrine and in worship, all
her affinities and tendencies are toward the Presbyterian and other
non-Episcopal denominations of the age. No church on earth, whose
episcopal succession can be traced to any apostolic source, has ever
recognized hers as beyond question, or admitted her claim to be a
portion of the Catholic Church of Christ. Her very episcopate itself
is, practically, as the recent events in New York have shown, a rank
of honor and of office not of power. Her alleged superiority, for her
bishops' sakes, can never bring her one step nearer to the Catholic
Church, while she retains her heresies or remains in schism; and, on
the other hand, her alienation from her protesting sisters must
increase with every generation while this allegation is maintained.
Far better, far more accordant with her actual position, is her
doctrine as thus evolved by Mr. Goode and "Vox Ecclesiae," and while
its enunciation cannot change her in our estimation, it will doubtless
draw nearer to her, in the bonds of love and brotherhood, all those by
whom she is surrounded and to whose fraternity she naturally belongs.
It is only a matter of regret that the barrier now destroyed was not
broken down long ago, and that the good influences, which the
Episcopal Church is so well calculated to exert, have not been working
on the masses of our non-Catholic brethren in America during all the
past eighty years.
Nothing now remains but to retrieve that past. Let it be understood
that the Episcopal Church does not deny the validity of presbyterian
orders, but that at most she holds them irregular, and only that when
not given in necessity; that men of other denominations have clergymen
and sacraments equally beneficial with her own. Let her throw open her
doors to all religious bodies who thus preserve the "succession," and
unite with them in prevailing on those to receive it who have it not,
and make common cause with all such in stemming the tide of infidelity
and "liberalism" which is deluging our land. Then may her self-adopted
mission, however faulty in its origin, however riskful in its
progress, fulfil at least one portion of the work of Christ's Church
in the world, and, if she cannot feed men with the bread of truth, she
may preserve them from the more fearful poisons.
In conclusion, we desire to correct an error into which the author of
"Vox Ecclesiae" has fallen, concerning the view of this same question
taken by Catholics. On page 57, he says:
"The exaggerated or Romish theory is, that the possession of the
Apostolical Constitution and a properly transmitted succession is
enough to constitute a true and perfect church. Thus succession is
held to be everything," etc.
{730}
In one sense of these words, namely, that to _be_ the actual
organization founded by Christ and constituted, as he left it, in the
hands of the apostles, is to be a true and perfect church; they are
the faith of Catholics. But this is not the sense in which the author
uses them. The idea he thus expresses is, that we regard an external
succession in the line of apostolic orders as sufficient to make a man
a priest or bishop, as the case may be, and that such a succession
constitutes a church. This is a very prevalent, but very thoughtless,
error. It is true that we believe apostolic orders, in the apostolic
line, to be so absolutely necessary that no man, under any
circumstances, can perform any I without them. But we do _not_
believe, that the possession of such orders by any organization makes
it a true church. Cranmer was lawfully ordained as priest and bishop
of the Catholic Church, and, whether as a schismatic under Henry, or a
heretic under Edward, his orders went with him and rendered every act
in pursuance of them valid. The bishops he consecrated were bishops,
the priests he ordained were priests, and if Archbishop Parker were in
fact consecrated by Barlow and Hodgkins, and either of them were
consecrated by Cranmer, and if the English succession be otherwise
unbroken, then every priest of that succession is a true priest, and
every bishop a true bishop. Their acts are valid acts, whatever their
doctrine or their schism.
But this does not make the Church of England "a true and perfect
church." If the fact of her full apostolical succession were
established to-day, beyond the shadow of a doubt, and we would it
could be, her position would differ nothing, in our view, from that of
the Arian and Donatist churches of the fourth century, or of the Greek
Church for the past nine hundred years, churches whose orders were all
valid, whose doctrines were more or less at variance with Catholic
truth, whose sacraments conferred grace, but who were cut off from the
body of Christ's Church by their state of schism.
The Catholic test of Catholicity is short and simple, "Ubi Petrus, ibi
Ecclesiae," said Ambrose of Milan, (Comm. in Ps. xl.,) and wherever
Peter is, Peter, who, "like an immovable rock, holds together the
structure and mass of the whole Christian fabric," (Ambrosii serm.
xlvii.,) and "who, down to the present time and forever, in his
successors lives and judges," (Care Eph. A.D. 431, serm. Phil.,)
wherever Peter is, there, and there only, do we see the church.
Catholics, collectively and individually, say with St. Jerome,
"Whoever is united with the See of Peter is mine," and, throughout the
world, whatever church, society or man is joined by the bonds of
visible communion with the Roman See, is in and of the body of the
Catholic Church, they and none others. No union with that See is
possible to those who do not profess, at least implicitly, the entire
Catholic doctrine, and submit to the legitimate discipline of the
church. No validity of orders without true doctrine, no truth of
doctrine and validity of orders without union with the Apostolic See,
can remedy the evil. To all outside that unity, however similar to us
in one point or another, we must repeat the words which St. Optatus of
Mela wrote to the African Donatists about A.D. 384:
"You know that the Episcopal See was first established for Peter at
the city of Rome, in which See Peter, the head of all the apostles,
sat, and with which one See unity must be maintained by all; that the
apostles might not each defend before you his own see, but that he
should be both a schismatic and a sinner who should set up any other
against that one See." (Adr. Donat. ii.) Would that, of all who know
the truth of that which Optatus has written, and whom a thousand
hindrances are keeping from that rock of unity, we might say, as St.
Cyprian wrote of Antonianus, in the first ages, to the Holy Pope
Cornelius, (ad auton,) "He is in communion with you, that is, with the
Catholic Church."
------
{731}
From All the Year Round.
STATISTICS OF VIRTUE.
Small presents, it has been shrewdly said, prevent the flame of
friendship from dying out. A Stilton cheese, a bouquet of forced
flowers, a maiden copy of a "just-published" book, a _pâte de foie
gras_, a basket of fruit that _will_ keep a day or two, a salmon in
spring, or a fresh-killed hare in autumn--any thing that answers, as
a feed of corn or a bait of hay, to one's own private
hobby-horse--very rarely indeed gives offence.
Be the influence such offerings exert ever so small, it is attractive
rather than repulsive in its tendency. They are silken fibres which
draw people together, almost without their knowing it; and although
the strength of any single one may be slight, by multiplication they
acquire appreciable power. Even if they come from evidently interested
motives, they are a tribute which flatters the receiver's self-esteem,
for they are an unmistakable proof that he is worth being courted.
They are a mutual tie which bind friendly connections into a firmer
bundle of sticks than they were before. The giver even likes the
person given to all the better for having bestowed gifts upon him.
There may exist no thought or intention to lay him under an
obligation; but there always must, and properly may, arise the hope of
increasing his good-will and attachment. It is clear that, when it is
desirable that kindly relations should exist between persons, any
honorable means of promoting such relations are not only expedient but
laudable. One stone of an arch may fit its fellow-stones perfectly,
but a little cement does their union no harm.
As there is a reciprocal social attraction between individuals of
respectability and worth, so also there ought to be a gravitation of
every individual toward certain excellences of character and conduct.
And here likewise small inducements, trifling bribes, minor
temptations, help to increase the force of the tendency. Virtue is,
and ought to be its own reward; still, an additional bonus of
extraneous recompense cannot but help the moral progress of mankind.
It sounds like a truism to say that a _motive_ is useful as a mover to
the performance of any act or course of action. The fact is implied by
the meaning of the word itself. If good deeds can be rendered more
frequent by increasing the motives to their practice, the world in
general will be all the better and the happier for that increase.
The problem in ethics to be solved, is, simply, _how_ men and women
may be most easily led to behave like very good boys and girls. We
urge children to do their best by rewards of merit. Why should not the
minds of adults be stimulated by similar persuasive forces? Nor can
worldly motives, if pulling in the same direction as moral and
religious motives, be productive of anything but good. And we want
motives to excite the good to become still more persistently and
exemplarily good, all the more that terror of punishment is
unfortunately insufficient to make the bad abstain from deeds of
wickedness.
{732}
With this view a philanthropic Frenchman, M. de Montyon, founded in
1819 annual prizes for acts of benevolence and devotedness, which,
beside addressing our higher feelings, appeal to two strong passions,
interest and vanity. And why should integrity pass unrewarded? Why
should bright conduct be hid under a bushel? In a darksome night, how
far the little candle throws his beams! So _ought_ to shine a good
deed in a naughty world. Most undoubtedly, to do good by stealth is
highly praiseworthy; but there is no reason why the blush which arises
on finding it fame should necessarily be a painful blush. Far better
that it should be a glow of pleasure.
More than forty years have now elapsed since these prizes for virtue
were instituted, during which period more than seven hundred persons
have received the reward of their exemplary conduct. The French
Academy which distributes the prizes, has decided (doing violence to
the modesty of the recipients ) to publish their good deeds to the
world. After the announcement of their awards, a livret or list in the
form of a pamphlet is issued, recounting each specific case with the
same simplicity with which it was performed. These lists are spread
throughout all France and further, in the belief that the more widely
meritorious actions are known, the greater chance there is of their
being imitated.
The awards made by the French Academy up to the present day to
virtuous actions give an average of about eighteen per annum. These
eighteen annual "crowns" have been competed for by more than seventy
memorials coming from every point of France, mostly without the
knowledge of the persons interested. In short, since the foundation of
the prizes, the Academy has had to read several thousand memorials.
To Monsieur V. P. Demay (Secretary and Chef des Bureaux of the Mairie
of the 18th Arrondissement of Paris) the idea occurred of collecting
the whole of these livrets into a volume, so as to furnish an
analytical summary of the distribution of the prizes throughout the
empire, and of appending to it flowers of philanthropic eloquence
culled from the speeches made at the Academic meetings. The result is
a book entitled "Les Fastes de la Vertu Pauvre en France," "Annals of
the Virtuous Poor in France."
No one, before M. Demay, thought of undertaking the Statistics of
Virtue. The subject has not found a place on any scientific programme,
French or international; whether through forgetfulness or not, the
fact remains indisputable. And be it remarked that the seven hundred
and thirty-two laureats to whom rewards have been decreed, represent
only a fraction of the number of highly deserving persons. In all
their reports ever since 1820, the French Academy has declared that it
had only the embarrassment of choosing between the candidates while
awarding the prizes, so equally meritorious were their acts.
Therefore, to the seven hundred and thirty-two nominees ought to be
added the two thousand four hundred and forty competitors whose cases
were considered during that period, making altogether a total of three
thousand one hundred and seventy-two instances of conduct worthy of
imitation which had been brought to light by the agency of the prizes.
The book, not more amusing than other statistics, is nevertheless
highly suggestive. Serious thought is the consequence of opening its
pages. It is a touching book, and goes to the heart. After reading it,
many will feel prompted to go and do likewise by some effort of
generosity or self-denial. In any case, it cannot be other than a
moralizing work to bring to light so many instances of devotion, and
to set them forth as public examples.
In some of his speculations our author, perhaps, may be considered as
just a little too sanguine. Certainly, if there are tribunals for the
infliction of punishment, there is no reason why tribunals should not
exist for the conferring of recompenses. How far they are likely to
become general, is a question for consideration. Also, it is {733}
true that newspapers give the fullest details of horrid crimes, while
they are brief in their usual mention of meritorious actions. But
before M. Demay, somebody said, "Men's evil manners live in brass,
their virtues we write in water;" and it is to be feared he is
somewhat too bright-visioned a seer, when he hopes that, through
Napoleon the Third's and Baron Haussmaun's educational measures,
coupled with the influence of the Montyon prizes, "at no very distant
day, the words penitentiary, prison, etc., will exist only in the
state of souvenirs--painful as regards the past, but consolatory for
the future."
To give the details of such a multitude of virtuous acts is simply
impossible. M. Demay can only rapidly group those which present the
most striking features, and which have appeared still more
extraordinary--for that is the proper word--than the others,
conferring on their honored actors surnames recognized throughout
whole districts. It is the Table of Honor of Virtuous Poverty, crowned
by the verdict of popular opinion. Among these latter are (the
parentheses contain the name of their department): the Mussets,
husband and wife, salt manufacturers, at Château Salins, (Meurthe,)
surnamed the Second Providence of the Poor; Suzanne Géral, wife of the
keeper of the lockup house, at Florae, (Loèzre) surnamed the Prison
Angel; David Lacroix, fisherman, at Dieppe, (Seine-Inférieure,)
surnamed the _Sauveur_, instead of the _Sauveteur_ the rescuer, after
having pulled one hundred and seventeen people out of fire and water
--he has the cross of the Legion of Honor; Marie Philippe; Widow
Gambon, vine-dresser, at Nanterre, (Seine.) surnamed la Mére de bon
Secours, or Goody Helpful; Madame Langier, at Orgon,
(Bouche-du-Rhône,) surnamed la Quéteuse, the Collector of Alms.
In the spring of 1839 almost the whole canton of Ax (Ariège) was
visited by the yellow fever, which raged for ten months, and carried
off a sixth of the population. It, was especially malignant at Prades.
Terror was at its height; those whom the scourge had spared were
prevented by their fears from assisting their sick neighbors, menaced
with almost certain death. Nevertheless, a young girl, Madeleine Fort,
who had been brought up in the practice of good works, exerted herself
to the utmost in all directions. During the course of those ten
disastrous months she visited, consoled, and nursed more than five
hundred unfortunates; and if she could not save them from the grave,
she followed them, alone, to their final resting-place. Two Sisters of
Charity were sent to help her; one was soon carried off, and the
second fell ill. The caré died, and was replaced by another. The
latter, finding himself smitten, sent for Madeleine. One of the flock
had to tend the pastor. Those disastrous days have long since
disappeared; but if the traveller, halting at Prades, asks for
Madeleine Fort's dwelling, he will be answered, "Ah! you mean our
Sister of Charity?"
Suzanne Bichon is only a servant. Her master and mistress were
completely ruined by the negro insurrection in St. Domingo; but the
worthy woman would not desert them--she worked for them all, and took
care of the children. On being offered a better place, that is, a more
lucrative engagement, she refused it with the words, "You will easily
find another person, but can my master and mistress get another
servant?" The Academy gave their recompense for fifteen years of this
devoted service. Her mistress wanted to go and take a place herself;
she would not hear of it, making them believe that she had means at
her command, and expectations. But all her means lay in her capacity
for work, while her expectations were--Providence. It is not to be
wondered at that she was known as Good Suzette.
{734}
Such attachments as these on the part of servants are a delightful
contrast to what we commonly see in the course of our household
experience. They can hardly be looked for under the combined regime of
register-offices, a month's wages or a month's warning, no followers,
Sundays out, and crinoline.
We look for virtue amongst the clergy. The devotion, self-denial, and
resignation often witnessed amongst them are matters of notoriety.
Nevertheless, it is right that one of its members should find a place
on a list like the present. In 1834, the Abbé Bertran was appointed
cure of Peyriac, (Aude.) He was obliged, so to speak, to conquer the
country of which he was soon to be the benefactor. For two years he
had to struggle with the obstinate resistance which his parishioners
opposed to him. His evangelical gentleness succeeded in vanquishing
every obstacle; henceforth he was master of the ground, and could
march onward with a firm step. At once he consecrated his patrimony to
the restoration of the church and the presbyter. He bought a field,
turned architect, and soon there arose a vast building which united
the two extremes of life--old age and infancy. He then opened
simultaneously a girls' school, an infant school, and a foundling
hospital. He sought out the orphans belonging to the canton, and
supplied a home to old people of either sex. To effect these objects
the good pastor expended seventy thousand francs, (nearly three
thousand pounds,) the whole of his property: he left himself without a
sou. But he had sown his seed in good ground, and it promised to
produce a hundred-fold. Rich in his poverty, his place is marked
beside Vincent de Paul and Charles Borromeo.
Goodness may even indulge in its caprices and still remain good.
Marguerite Monnier, surnamed _la Mayon_, (a popular term of affection
in Lorraine,) seems to have selected a curious specialty for the
indulgence of her charitable propensities. It is requisite to be
infirm or idiotic to be entitled to receive her benevolent attentions.
When quite a child, she selects as her friend a poor blind beggar,
whom she visits every day in her wretched hovel. She makes her bed,
lights her fire, and cooks her food. While going to school, she
remarks a poor old woman scarcely able to drag herself along, but,
nevertheless, crawling to the neighboring wood to pick up a few dry
sticks. She follows her thither, helps her to gather them, and brings
back the load on her own shoulders. Grown to womanhood, and married,
Marguerite successively gives hospitality to an idiot, a crazy person,
a cretin, several paralytic patients, orphans, strangers without
resources, and even drunkards, (one would wish to see in their falling
an infirmity merely.) Every creature unable to take care of itself
finds in her a ready protector. Such are her lodgers, her clients, her
customers! Ever cheerful, she amuses them by discourse suited to their
comprehension. All around her is in continued jubilation, and
Marguerite herself seems to be more entertained than any body else. It
may be said, perhaps, that a person must be born with a natural
disposition for this kind of devotedness. Granted; but his claim to
public gratitude is not a whit the less for that.
Catherine Vernet, of Saint-Germain, (Puy-de-dôme,) is a simple
lace-maker, who, after devoting herself to her family, has for thirty
years devoted herself to those who have no one to take care of them.
Her savings having amounted to a sufficient sum for the purchase of a
small house, she converted it into a sort of hospital with eight beds
always occupied. Situated amongst the mountains of Anvergne, this
hospital is a certain refuge for _perdus_, travellers who have lost
their way. It is an imitation of the Saint Bernard; and if it has not
attained its celebrity, it emanates from the same source, charity.
{735}
In looking through the lists and comparing the several departments of
France, it would be hard to say that one department is better than
another; because their population, and other important influential
circumstances, vary immensely between themselves. But what strikes one
immediately, is the great preponderance of good women--rewarded as
such--over good men. Thus, to dip into the list at hazard, we
have--Meuse, one man, five women; Seine, thirty-one men, ninety-eight
women; Loire, two men, six women; Côte-d'Or, three men, eleven women;
and so on. The nature of the acts rewarded--also taken by chance--are
these: reconciliations of families in _vendetta_, (Corsica;)
maintenance of deserted children; rescues from fire and water;
faithfulness to master and mistress for sixteen years; adoption of
seven orphans for fifteen years; maintenance of master and mistress
fallen into poverty; devotion to the aged; nursing the sick poor;
killing a mad dog who inflicted fourteen bites. When "inexhaustible
charity" and "succor to the indigent" are mentioned, one would like to
know whether they consisted in mere alms-giving. Probably not; because
by "charity" Montyon understood, not the momentary impulse which
causes us to help a suffering fellow-creature, and then dies away, but
the constant, durable affection which regards him as another self, and
whose device is "Privation, Sacrifice."
In the period, then, between 1819 and 1864 seven hundred and
seventy-six persons received Montyon rewards, two hundred and eleven
of whom were men, and five hundred and sixty-five women. In M. Demay's
opinion, the disproportion ought to surprise nobody; for if man is
gifted with virile courage, which is capable of being suddenly
inflamed, and is liable to be similarly extinguished, woman only is
endowed with the boundless, incessant, silent devotion which is found
in the mother, the wife, the daughter, the sister. This dear
companion, given by God to man, is conscious of the noble mission
allotted her to fulfil on earth. We behold the results in her acts,
and in what daily occurs in families. Abnegation, with her, is a
natural instinct. "She may prove weak, no doubt; she may even go
astray: but, be assured, she always retains the divine spark of
charity, which only awaits an opportunity to burst forth into a
brilliant flame. Let us abstain, therefore, from casting a stone at
temporary error; let us pardon, and forget. Our charity will lead her
back to duty more efficaciously than all the moral stigmas we could
possibly inflict."
The years more fruitful in acts of devotion appear to have been 1851,
1852, and 1857, in which twenty-seven and twenty-eight prizes were
awarded. Their cause is, that previously the Academy received
memorials from the authorities only. But after making an appeal to
witnesses of every class and grade, virtue, if the expression maybe
allowed, overflowed in all directions. Lives of heroism and charity,
hidden in the secrets of the heart, were suddenly brought to the light
of day, to the great surprise of their heroes and heroines. During the
same period there were distributed, in money, three hundred and
sixty-four thousand francs, (sixteen thousand pounds;) in medals, four
hundred and eighteen thousand five hundred and fifty francs, (sixteen
thousand seven hundred and forty-two pounds;) total, seven hundred and
eighty-two thousand five hundred and fifty francs, (thirty-two
thousand seven hundred and forty-two pounds.) The Montyon prizes are
worth having, and not an insult to the persons to whom they are
offered. The sums of money given range as high as one, two, three, and
even four thousand francs; the medals vary in value from five and six
hundred to a thousand francs: but even a five hundred franc or
twenty-pound medal is a respectable token of approbation and esteem.
In some few cases, both money and a medal are bestowed.
{736}
It may be said that the persons to whom these prizes are given would
have done the same deeds without any reward. True; and therein lies
their merit. And ought _money_ to be given to recompense virtuous
acts? Yes, most decidedly; because it will confer on its recipients
their greatest possible recompense--the power of doing still more
good. Money gifts are not to be depreciated so long as there are
orphans to sustain, sick poor to nurse, and infirm old age to keep
from starvation.
Finally, is charity the growth of one period of life rather than of
another? On inspecting the lists, we find children, six, twelve,
thirteen years of age, and close to them octogenarians, one
nonagenarian, one centenarian! If noble courage does not want for
fulness of years, it would appear not to take its leave on their
arrival.
------
[ORIGINAL.]
THE CHRISTIAN CROWN.
BY JOHN SAVAGE.
I.
Ten centuries and one had trod
Jerusalem, since when,
In mortal form, the Son of God
Died for the sons of men.
II.
And they who in the Martyr found
Their Saviour, wailed and wept,
That gorgeous horrors should abound
Where Christ the Blessèd slept.
III.
From clam'rous towns, and forests' hush.
As cascades from the gloom
Of caves, crusaders eastward rush
To win the holy tomb.
IV.
Their corselets, steel and silver bright,
'Neath swaying plumes displayed,
Now dance, like streams, in lines of light.
Now loiter on in shade.
{737}
V.
Their crosses glow in every form
Inspiring vale and mart,
As through earth's arteries they swarm,
Like blood back to the heart.
VI.
Tis mid-day of midsummer's heat;
Faith crowns the live and dead:
Jerusalem is at their feet.
Brave Godfrey at their head.
VII.
Within the walls, the ramparts ring
As proudly they proclaim
Great Godfrey de Bouillon as king!
A king in more than name.
VIII.
The ruby-budding crown to bind
About his head, they stood:
Another crown is in his mind;
For rubies, blobs of blood.
IX.
"No. no!" and back the bauble flings,
"No gold this brow adorns
Where willed He, Christ, the King of kings,
To wear a crown of thorns."
X.
Let not the glorious truth depart
Brave Godfrey handed down:
A king whose crown is in his heart,
Needs wear no other crown.
------
{738}
From The Lamp
UNCONVICTED;
OR, OLD THORNELEY'S HEIRS.
CHAPTER VII.
THE READING OF THE WILL.