To these three propositions it is replied that the system was not

at that day demonstrated by Galileo or by any one else, and that

his tidal argument was worthless.

Indeed, a sufficient answer is found in the simple statement, in

which all astronomers must certainly accord, that before the time

of Sir Isaac Newton there was nothing to make the Copernican

system more plausible and reasonable than the Ptolemaic theory,

because the English astronomer first explained the one law on

which planetary revolutions depended.

The theory of the earth's rotation was, in 1633, barely a matter

of induction--strong, it is true, yet nothing more than

induction. Strong, if the two arguments taken from the phases of

Venus and the satellites of Jupiter are duly weighed; but weak

without them.

The discovery of the satellites of Jupiter was called by Herschel

"the holding turn of the Copernican system," but Galileo had no

conception of its value; he passed it by as insignificant, and

settled down complacently upon the flux and reflux of the tides

as the crowning proof. To this proof, and to no other, he clung

during the citation of 1616.

Astronomers express great surprise that Galileo makes no mention

of the belts of Jupiter, although they are visible with the aid

of the smallest glass.

Zucchi, a Jesuit, was the first to note them in Rome, (1630.) In

like manner, the discovery of the spots on the sun do not appear

to have benefited him in ascertaining the sun's rotation.

"Galilée," says Arago, "n'a pas non plus la moindre apparence de

droit à la découverte du mouvement de rotation du soleil. On a vu

les taches; aucune conséquence de cette observation n'est

indiquée." [Footnote 150]

[Footnote 150: "Neither has Galileo the slightest apparent

claim to the discovery of the sun's rotation. The spots are

observed, but no deduction is drawn from the observation."]

The oversights concerning Jupiter are the more remarkable as

Galileo's labors in investigation of the satellites were long and

exhausting. It is only within a few years that this fact has been

ascertained through the discovery by Professor Alberi of a long

series of observations of the satellites of Jupiter, with tables

and ephemerides drawn up for the purpose of comparing the

longitude.

These manuscripts, described as a "mighty monument of his

labors"--and doubtless they must be, for all his calculations

were necessarily made without the aid of logarithms--were found

in the Pitti Palace library, and are published by Alberi in the

fifth volume of his magnificent edition of Galileo's work.

{446}

Herschel says that the science of astronomy was yet in its

infancy at the period of Newton's death, and after all that

Newton had done for it. What, then, must we think of its

condition in the hands of Galileo, with his toy telescope, his

fallacious tidal theory, and his necessary ignorance of the great

discoveries that followed him?

In 1618, he published his _Theory of the Tides_. In 1623, he

again puts it forward in a letter to Ingulfi; and finally devotes

the fourth and last day of the _Dialogue_ to the development

of the same argument.

Nay, more, in this dialogue he scoffs at the simplicity of

Kepler, who has had the temerity, after his (Galileo's)

satisfactory explanation of the phenomena, to listen to such

stuff as the occult properties of the moon's influence on the

tides, and other like puerilities! We find by reference to a

marginal note in the Padua edition of the _Dialogues_ at the

Astor Library, that a prelate, Girolamo Borro, wrote a pamphlet

setting forth the theory of the moon's influence on the tides,

and Simplicio is made to quote him: "E ultimamente certo prelato

ha publicato un tratello dove dice che la luna vagando per il

cielo attrae e solleva verso di se un cumulo d'acqua, il quale va

continualmente seguitanclo," etc. [Footnote 151]

[Footnote 151: "And lately a certain prelate has published a

pamphlet, in which he says that the moon, traversing the

heavens, attracts and draws after her a mass of water which

continually follows," etc.]

Here Sagredo stops him abruptly, saying, "For heaven's sake,

Signor Simplicio, let us have no more of that; for it is a mere

loss of time to listen to it, as well as to confute it, and you

simply do injustice to your judgment by regarding such or similar

puerilities."

No wonder, as Bailli says, "la foule d'astronomes etaient

centre!" [Footnote 152]

[Footnote 152: "The mass of astronomers were of the contrary

opinion."]

Galileo died in profound ignorance of the true tidal theory, and

the credit of pointing it out is ascribed by Mr. Drinkwater to

the College of Jesuits at Coimbra.

But more than all this, Galileo had already made great mistakes,

and committed errors that were publicly rectified by his

contemporaries.

Thus, one of the most remarkable astronomical phenomena of the

age, the three comets of 1618, was totally misunderstood by

Galileo, who pronounced them atmospheric meteors.

The Jesuit Grassi, in his treatise _De Tribus Cometis_,

(1618,) had the merit of explaining what had baffled Galileo, who

at first held them to be planets moving in vast ellipses around

the sun.

Charity For All.

In referring to these errors of Galileo, Laplace says that it

would be unjust to judge him with the same rigor as one who

should refuse at present to believe the motion of the earth,

confirmed by the numerous discoveries made in astronomy since

that period.

And John Quincy Adams, in a memorable discourse delivered at

Cincinnati in 1843, says of Tycho Brahe, (who maintained that the

earth is immovable in the centre of the universe,) "The religion

of Tycho in the encounter with his philosophy obtained a triumph

honorable to him, but erroneous in fact."

All which maybe very true; and if Laplace and Mr. Adams err at

all, they err certainly on the side of charity and kindness.

{447}

But are we to have one standard of justice for one class of men,

and a far different one for another class? Is that which is

excusable in an Italian and honorable in a Danish astronomer,

ignorant, bigoted, and vile in a cardinal? Or is there any good

reason why that which in Denmark is a "triumph of religion"

should in Rome become a "victory of ignorance"?

Tycho Brahe, in his day a profound astronomer, noble and wealthy,

devoting his whole life to science in unremitting observation of

the heavens, with the aid of the most complete and costly

apparatus in existence at the time, might surely be supposed to

have reached a safer conclusion than an ignorant churchman.

And how, moreover, could such a churchman be expected to pin his

faith to the sleeve of an astronomer like Galileo, whose errors

and blunders were frequent and serious, and who, when in his

conjectures he stumbled upon the truth, could hardly distinguish

it from error, and was therefore as likely to give a bad as a

good reason for his doctrine? Or, as M. Biot admirably expresses

it, "si l'état imparfait de cette science l'exposait ainsi à

donner parfois de mauvaises raisons comme bonnes, il faut

pardonner à ses adversaires de n'avoir pas pu toujours distinguer

les bonnes des mauvaises." [Footnote 153]

[Footnote 153: "If the imperfection of this science thus made

him liable to give bad reasons for good, his adversaries

should surely be pardoned for not always being able to

distinguish the good from the bad."]

Anti-Catholic controversialists will persist in endowing the

Galileo period with an amount of astronomical and physical

science that then had no existence. Intelligent, industrious, and

learned the cardinals of Galileo's day certainly were; but it is

absurd to attribute to them or to their times a knowledge of the

Copernican system, as afterward explained by Kepler, Newton, and

two centuries of men of science. Kepler's _Laws of the

Universe_ were not published until 1619, and even then, and

long years afterward, who could possibly apply them until

Newton's discoveries gave them force and authority?

If our modern sciolists, who prattle so much about "the ignorant

and bigoted court of Rome," knew enough to be a little modest,

they might take to heart the reflection of the great English

essayist, and remember it is no merit of theirs that prevents

them from falling into the mistakes of a cardinal "whose pens

they are not worthy to mend." It certainly was asking a great

deal of men that they should abandon settled tradition, the

teachings of authority, the evidence of their senses, and the

warrant of Scripture, as they understood it, to embrace a

strange, startling, and incomprehensible doctrine, in no degree

better off in demonstration than the old one. Even the weight of

scientific authority was in their favor, as is readily seen when

we look at the relative strength of

Copernican and Anti-Copernican.

Tycho Brahe was far from being alone in his dissent from

Copernicus and Galileo. Saving only the bright spot made by

Kepler and a few of his disciples, all Germany, France, and

England were still in comparative darkness, and it is difficult

to believe that at the period of Galileo's trial there were as

many avowed Copernicans in all Europe together as in the single

city of Rome.

In Germany, the new system was almost universally rejected, and

Wolfgang Menzel, in his _History of Germany_, speaks of it

as "die unter den Protestanten in Deutschland noch iminer

bezweifelte Wahrheit des Copernikanischen Welt-systems."

[Footnote 154:]

[Footnote 154: "The even yet (by German Protestants)

contested truth of the Copernican system."]

{448}

The frontispiece to Riccioli's _Almagestum Novum_, Astor

Library copy, published in 1651, presents a curious illustration

of the prevalent estimate of the new doctrines. A figure with a

pair of balances is seen weighing the Tychonian against the

Copernican system, and the truth of the former is shown by its

overwhelming preponderance. Riccioli cites fourteen authors who

up to that day had written in favor of the Copernican theory, and

thirty-seven who had written against it. He adduces seventy

arguments in favor of the Tychonian, and can find but forty-nine

in support of the Copernican; consequently, the mere force of

numbers proves the improbability of the latter.

In France, Ramus, the Huguenot Royal Professor at Paris, utterly

refused the doctrine ten years after the death of Galileo.

Thomas Lydiat, a distinguished English astronomer of his day, and

so good a scholar as to come victorious out of a controversy on

chronology with Scaliger, openly opposed the Copernican system in

his _Praelectio Astronomica_, (1605.) In fact, no man of

astronomical acquirements of that day, and for more than fifty

years afterward, dared risk the success of a book by putting in

it anything favoring the Copernican theory.

Even as late as 1570, we find John Dee, an English Copernican,

who, despairing of the ignorant prejudice around him, would not

so much as hint at the existence of the system in his preface to

_Billingsley's Euclid_.

In Great Britain, the system was discredited by the illustrious

Gilbert. Milton, too, seems to have doubted it. Its most active

opponent was Alexander Rosse, a voluminous Scotch writer, alluded

to in _Hudibras_.

Hume tells us Lord Bacon "rejected the system of Copernicus with

the most positive disdain." [Footnote 155] It is but fair to say,

though, that this statement, like too many of Hume's, should be

qualified. It is true that in his _De Augmentis_ Bacon says

that the absurdity and complexity of the Ptolemaic system has

driven men to the doctrine of the earth's motion, which is

clearly false, "_quod nobis constat falsissimum esse;_" but,

on the other hand, in the _Novum Organum_, he distinctly

speaks of the question of the earth's motion as one to be

examined. Now, the latter work, although published before, was

written after the _De Augmentis_, which is less serious and

argumentative than the _Novum Organum_.

[Footnote 155: Macaulay should have said, "theory of

Copernicus," instead of "theory of Galileo." Bacon never

credited Galileo with a system, and did not hold his

scientific merits in much esteem.]

Even in 1705, the Hon. E. Howard published in London a work

entitled _Copernicans of all Sorts Convicted_.

In 1806, Mercier, a Frenchman, wrote to prove "l'impossibilité

des systèmes de Copernic et de Newton;" and even so recently as

1829 an individual was found so retrograde as to publish a work

entitled The _Universe as it is; wherein the Hypothesis of the

Earth's Motion is Refuted,_ etc., by W. Woodley.

The Undemonstrated Problem.

And now, having spied out the nakedness of the astronomic land

throughout Europe, let us return for a moment to the scientific

position of the tribunal that tried Galileo.

{449}

What solid proof was presented to it? None whatever. And those

familiar with the history of astronomy will readily recognize the

fact that, so far from seeing in the new opinion a scientific

novelty, they recognized in it substantially the old hypothesis

of Pythagoras, which, after obtaining credit for more than five

hundred years, was triumphantly displaced by the Ptolemaic

theory; which was that the earth is a solid globe at rest in the

centre of the universe, with the various planetary bodies

revolving in larger and larger circles, according to the order of

their distances.

The new doctrine had not even the form of a system:

"'Twas neither shape nor feature."

Indeed, as has been truly said, it was nothing more than a

paradox for the support of which its authors had to draw upon

their own resources.

High astronomical authority, Délambre, thus sums up the utter

absence of proof, in Galileo's time, of the theory of the earth's

rotation:

"What solid reason could induce the ancients to disbelieve the

evidence of their senses? Yes, and even despite the immense

progress which astronomy has subsequently made, have the

moderns themselves been able to allege any one direct proof of

the diurnal motion of the earth, previous to the voyage of

Richer to Cayenne, where he was obliged to shorten his

pendulum? Have they been able to discover one positive

demonstration to the point, to prove the annual revolution of

the earth, before Roemer measured the velocity of light, and

Bradley had observed and calculated the phenomena of the

aberration?

"Previous to these discoveries, and that of universal

gravitation, were not the most decided Copernicans reduced to

mere probabilities? Were they not obliged to confine themselves

to preaching up the simplicity of the Copernican system, as

compared with the absurd complexity of that of Ptolemy?"

What "solid reason," indeed, could be given? But Galileo in his

presumption did not consider himself reduced to "mere

probabilities," and, relying on his tidal fallacies and

unexplained phenomena, sought to pass hypothesis for dogma, and

his _ipse dixit_ for demonstration.

Of the great discoveries enumerated by Délambre, Galileo was

necessarily ignorant, and we must insist upon the fact that the

cardinals and the Inquisition were equally ignorant of them.

There was, in reality, no astronomical science in Galileo's time

worth speaking of, except as we compare it with the astronomy

that preceded it, which is the only fair test of its value.

Compared with what Ptolemy knew, it was twilight.

Compared with what we know, it was darkness.

It is moderate to say that in 1633 astronomy was in its infancy.

To all that was then known, add Kepler's magnificent labors,

Torricelli's discovery, Newton's principle of gravitation, and

all the English astronomer did for science--come down to the year

1727, in which he died, and what was the condition of

astronomical science even then?

Herschel has told us: "The legacy of research which was left us

by Newton was indeed immense. To pursue through all its

intricacies the consequences of the law of gravitation; to

account for all the inequalities of the planetary movements, and

the infinitely more complicated and to us more important ones of

the moon; and to give, what _Newton himself certainly never

entertained a conception of,_ a demonstration of the stability

and permanence of the system under all the accumulated influence

of its internal perturbations; this labor and this triumph were

reserved for the succeeding age, and have been shared in

succession by Clairault, D'Alembert, Euler, Lagrange, and

Laplace. Yet so extensive is this subject, and so difficult and

intricate the purely mathematical inquiries to which it leads,

that _another century may yet be required to go through the

task_."

{450}

The Legacy Of Research

left by Newton may truly be called "immense." And Herschel does

well to modify his statement as to the "triumph," and postpone it

yet another century.

For it must be borne in mind that no astronomical system is a

strictly verifiable fact. The circulation of the blood is a

verifiable fact, and it has been verified. No announcement of the

discovery of a new demonstration of its truth could now attract

any attention on account of its merits as proof.

Not so as to the earth's motion. The proofs of that have always

been merely referential and cumulative. The final, the crowning

point of demonstration has never been made, and probably never

can be reached. Who can say that he ever saw the earth move?

Hence it is that every successive item of cumulative evidence is

hailed with pleasure and excitement. Thus was it with

Torricelli's, Newton's, Richer's, Roemer's, and Bradley's

discoveries; thus with all the brilliant inventions in mechanics

by means of which the illustration and explanations of these

discoveries became possible--explanations which, after all, not

one man in a thousand can understand.

Post-Galilean Astronomy.

A few words in addition to what we have already said concerning

the great discoveries made since Galileo's time, and we close.

Three of these discoveries, without which the Copernican theory

as to demonstration would be but little better off than the

Ptolemaic, merit special mention. They are:

_First_. The Newtonian theory of gravitation.

_Second_. The discovery of the shortened pendulum, showing

the diurnal motion of the earth.

_Third_. The velocity and aberration of light, showing the

annual motion.

It is scarcely necessary to enter into any detail concerning the

so generally known, great, and universal principle of

gravitation.

The Shortened Pendulum.

Up to the year 1672, no doubt had been entertained of the

spherical figure of the earth, and, as a consequence, of the

equality of all the degrees of the meridian; so that one being

known, the whole circumference was determined.

In that year, the French Academy of Sciences, then occupied in

the measurement of an arc in the meridian, sent the astronomer

Richer to Cayenne, on the coast of South America, to make

observations of the sun's altitude.

In the course of these observations he was surprised to find that

a superior clock, furnished with a pendulum which vibrated

seconds, was found to lose nearly two minutes and a half a day.

The astonishment created by the report of this fact in France was

very great, particularly after the accuracy of the clock had been

fully tested.

{451}

Other scientific men then visited different points on the coasts

of Africa and South America, and were convinced of the absolute

necessity of shortening the pendulum to make it vibrate seconds

in those latitudes.

The phenomenon was explained by Newton in the Third Book of his

_Principia_ (1687)--see p. 409 _et seq._, American

edition--where he shows it to be a necessary consequence of the

earth's rotation on its axis, and of the centrifugal force

created by it. That force, in modifying the gravity, gives to the

earth an oblate spheroidal figure, more elevated at the equator

than on the poles, and makes bodies fall and pendulums vibrate

more slowly in low than in high latitudes.

There is, unfortunately, such a thing as national jealousy even

in science, and to such a motive only can we ascribe the fact

that Newton's explanation was not accepted in France until

presented by Huyghens, several years afterward, in a different

and less accurate form.

The Velocity And Aberration Of Light.

In the entire range of scientific literature, there are few

chapters of greater interest than those which recount the rise

and gradual development of all the principles involved in the

triumphant demonstration of these two beautiful discoveries.

They admirably illustrate the total ignorance of Galileo

concerning a problem upon which he experimented with utter

failure, as also the slow pace of scientific progress, and the

necessity of the co-operative efforts of many men and many

sciences to perfect it.

It required the genius and research of Roemer, Bradley, Molyneux,

Arago, Fizeau, Foucault, and Struve, joined to the patient

experiment and mechanical skill of Bréguet, Bessel, and

Graham--the labor of all these men extending through a period of

one hundred and ninety years (1672 to 1862)--to complete its

demonstration.

And first, as to the velocity of light. In 1672, Roemer, a Danish

astronomer residing in France, began observations on the

satellites of Jupiter and their eclipses, which resulted in the

discovery of progressive transmission of light and the

determination of the value of its velocity. Up to his day, it had

almost become a fixed principle that the passage of light through

space was absolutely instantaneous.

From the time of Galileo, an immense mass of exact calculations

of the eclipses of the first satellite of Jupiter had been

accumulating, and Roemer found that at certain times the

satellite came out of the shadow later, and at other times

sooner, than it should have done, and this variation could not be

accounted for on any known principles. Remarking that it always

came too late from the shadow when the earth in its annual

movement was at more than its mean distance from Jupiter, and too

soon when it was at less, he formed the conjecture that light

requires an appreciable time to traverse space.

Becoming satisfied of the truth of his theory, he, in September,

1676, announced to the French Academy of Sciences that an

emersion of the first satellite, to take place, on the 16th of

November following, would occur ten minutes later than it should

according to ordinary calculation.

The event verified his prediction. Nevertheless, doubters and

cavillers abounded, and Roemer's theory was not accepted without

dispute. It was claimed that the delays and accelerations in the

immersions and emersions, instead of being attributed to change

of position of the observer, and to the progressive transmission

of light, might be regarded as indicating a real perturbation in

the movement of the satellite, due to a cause not yet discovered.

{452}

These doubts were removed fifty years later by the English

astronomer Bradley, who discovered the phenomenon of

_aberration_, which consists in an apparent displacement

which all the stars and planets experience on account of the

combination of the velocity of the earth with the velocity of

light.

Bradley's discovery was accidental. A superior instrument,

constructed by Graham, and destined to observe with the greatest

precision the passage of the stars near the zenith, had been

placed at the observatory of Kew for the purpose by Molyneux.

Bradley used this instrument to arrive at some precise data of

the annual parallax of the stars. His first observations led him

to the discovery of _aberration_, the details of which, of

the highest possible interest, may be found in the

_Philosophical Transactions_, Royal Society, No. 406,

December, 1728.

Thus confirmed by Bradley, Roemer's progressive transmission of

light became an incontestable fact.

Then followed the experiments projected by Arago to determine the

velocity of light, (1838,) which for eleven years remained a

merely ingenious suggestion, until realized by MM. Foucault and

Fizeau.

From 1840 to 1842, Struve, in Russia, made numerous observations

to obtain the exact value of aberration.

In 1856, the Institute of France awarded to M. Fizeau, for his

successful demonstration of Arago's suggestion, the triennial

prize of thirty thousand francs founded by the emperor, "for the

work, or the discovery, which, in the opinion of the five

academies of the institute, has done most honor and service to

the country."

Finally, in 1862, M. Foucault, perfecting his apparatus, measured

the velocity of light by an admirable experiment in physics,

which renders not only sensible, but even measurable, the time

employed by light to run over a path of twenty metres, (65 feet

7.4 inches,) although this time barely equals 1/15000000 of a

second!

And yet, after all this, there still remains a doubt as to

positive certainty of accuracy in the calculations.

The sun's parallax, calculated from observations of the last

transit of Venus over the disk of the sun in 1769, is fixed at

8.58 seconds, and on this basis is ascertained the distance from

the earth to the sun.

For reasons too long to detail here, many distinguished

astronomers are not entirely satisfied with the determination of

8.58 seconds, and prefer to wait for the next transit of Venus,

in 1874, for a full and satisfactory solution of all doubts on

the subject!

Conclusion And A Proposition.

Thus, after a lapse of two hundred and thirty-five years, filled

with unremitting labor and triumphant results in the field of

astronomical discovery, it appears from the showing of those most

competent to judge that something yet remains to be produced in

the way of demonstration of the astronomical system as now

accepted.

We will not ask those who differ with us concerning the Galileo

question to wait another century--the period assigned by Sir John

Herschel as "requisite"! Herschel gave that opinion in 1828,

which would send us to A.D. 1928 "to go through the task."

{453}

As it might not probably be convenient either for us or for those

who differ with us to resume the controversy in that year,

namely, 1928, we will--in the spirit of compromise, and taking

all the rest for granted--content ourselves with and abide by the

"satisfactory solution" promised for 1874, to which period it

would seem proper, on scientific grounds, to adjourn any attempt

to show that a system not yet proved in 1868 was, nevertheless,

fully demonstrated in 1633.

----------

"Out Of The Depths Have I Cried Unto Thee O Lord!"

A Christmas Sketch.

"Our blood splashes upward, O our tyrants!

And your purple shows your path,

But the child's sob curseth deeper in the silence

Than the strong man in his wrath."

"If wishes were horses, beggars might ride," says the proverb.

What a pity it is that wishes are not horses!--that at seasons

when almost every tongue drops the words, "A merry Christmas!" "A

happy New-Year!" the will should not rise and breathe the breath

of life into those words; make them move, make them work; put bit

and bridle on them, and direct them to go where they are most

needed. Wishes might then be made into very excellent horses, and

beggars might ride at least once a year; might be lifted for a

day out of the mire of care and suffering that dulls the light of

heaven to their eyes, and stops out the voices of heaven from

their ears; lifted into a belief in the humanity of man and the

mercy of God; might be given a little restful journey into that

easy land where the rich dwell every day.

There is more truth than poetry in the line,

"Leave us leisure to be good."

One who has no time for thought will almost certainly go astray;

and men and women whose lives are spent in fighting the wolf from

their doors, will fight him with whatever comes to hand, and will

sometimes catch up strange weapons.

So it might chance that these living wishes may have wings also,

and the beggar's soul may rise as well as his body.

I should like to set a regiment of such wishes galloping down

Grind street this coming Christmas, and stopping at every door.

That was a sorrowful street a few years ago, and I don't know

that it has grown merry since. A tall block of tenement-houses

walled the northern side from end to end, leaving off so abruptly

that, had they been written words instead of brick houses, there

would have been a ---- after them. Indeed, if the reader has a

fancy for a miserable pun, he might say that there _was_ a

dash after them, houses being scarce.

A very sensitive person, on looking at that block, would be

likely to straighten himself up, draw his elbows close to his

sides, and feel as though his nose was unnecessarily large. It is

not impossible that he might "toe in" a little in walking, unless

he reached the next street.

{454}

Not a curve was visible in the whole block, horizontal and

perpendicular reigning supreme. The mean brick front came to the

very edge of the sidewalk, and the windows and doors were as flat

as though they had been slapped in the face when in a soft state.

Every house was precisely like every other house, and the only

way of finding any particular one was by counting doors.

"These houses toe the mark," the builder had said when he looked

on his completed work, standing complacently with his hands in

his pockets, and his head a little on one side.

"Toe the mark" was the right phrase. The two meagre steps that

led to each front door suggested the thought, and the whole had

an air of soul obedience.

The tenants in this block were of that pitiable class called

"decent," which generally means poor; too independent to beg,

straining every nerve to live respectably, and making an extra

strain to hide the first one; people whose eyes get a little wild

at the prospect of sickness, who shudder at the thought of a

doctor's bill and workless days, who sometimes stop their toil

for a moment, and wonder what may be the meaning of such words as

"ease," "contentment," "pleasure." There were clerks and

book-keepers whose families burst out through their incomes in

every direction; starving artists of all sorts; and the rest,

people who toiled down in the dark, at the foundations over which

soared the marble palaces of the rich, darkening heaven.

These people had got in a way of dressing alike; they had the

same kind of curtains, and the same plants stretching beseeching

shoots toward the tantalizing line of sunshine that let itself

down, slow and golden, to the middle of the second floor windows,

then drew back over the roofs of the houses opposite, while

little flowers of all colors looked lovingly and reproachfully

after it, cheated so day after day, but never quite losing faith

that some day the bright-winged comforter would come quite down

to their hearts.

Eyes of angels, to whom these roofs and walls were transparent,

saw, doubtless, variety enough under the surface: aspirations

that reached to the house-top and looked over; aspirations that

soared even to the clouds and the stars, catching a heavenly

likeness; aspirations that stopped not at the stars, but climbed

so high that their flowers and fruitage hung in the unfailing

sunlight of heaven beyond reach of earthly hands, but seen and

touched by ineffable hopes ascending and descending. What dark

desires crawling upon the earth and covering their own deeds

those poor eyes looked upon, I say not; what hate, deep and

bitter; what cankering envy and disappointment; what despair,

that with two tears blotted the universe; what determination;

what strongly rooted purpose; what careless philosophy eating its

crust with a laugh. Let the angels see as they may, with human

eyes we will look into one room, and find our story there.

This room is on the second floor, and consequently gets its

windows half full of sunshine every pleasant afternoon. The

furnishing of it shows that the occupants had seen better days;

but those days are long past, as you can see by the shabbiness of

everything. There are evidences of taste, too, in a hanging vase

of ivy, a voluble canary, a few books and pictures; and

everything is clean.

{455}

It was a bright gloaming in December of 186-, when a woman sat

alone in this room. She was evidently an invalid, looking more

like a porcelain image than a flesh-and-blood woman, so white and

transparent was she, so frail the whole make of her. Soft

light-brown hair faintly sprinkled with gray was dropped beside

each thin cheek, dovelike eyes of an uncertain blue looked sadly

out from beneath anxious brows, and the mouth, which once must

have expressed resolution, now, in its comparison, showed only

endurance. This was a woman who had taken up life full of hope

and spirit, but whom life had turned upon with blow after blow,

till finally both hope and spirit were broken. Her days of

enterprise were over.

She sat there with her hands listlessly folded, her work fallen

unnoticed to the floor, and her eyes flushed with weeping. She

had been sitting so an hour, ever since a visitor had left her;

but, hearing a step on the stair and a child's voice singing, she

started up, wiped her eyes, and mended the fire, her back turned

toward the door as it opened.

A little girl of eight years old came in and gave her

school-books a toss upon the table, crying out, in a boisterous,

healthy voice, "O mother! I am starved! Give me something to

eat."

"Supper will soon be ready, Nell," the mother said gently,

drawing out the table.

"I can't wait!" cried the child. "My stomach is so empty that it

feels as if there was a mouse there gnawing. You know we had

nothing but bread and butter for dinner, and I do think that's a

mean dinner. Why don't you have roast beef? I know lots of girls

who have it every day."

"We can't afford it," the mother said falteringly. "Beef is very

high."

"Well, what have you got for supper?" demanded the child. "You

promised us something good."

"I have nothing but bread and butter, dear. I couldn't get

anything else."

"Well, Mother Lane, I declare if that isn't too bad!" And the

child flung herself angrily into a chair. "We don't have anything

fit to eat, and I wish I could go and live with somebody that

wouldn't starve me. I won't eat bread and butter, there now! I'm

so sick of it that it chokes me."

The mother's face took a deeper shade, and her lip trembled, but

she made no reply; and Nell sat angrily kicking her heels against

the chair, and pouting her red lips.

Mrs. Lane knew well how vain is the attempt to teach a child

gratitude for the necessaries of life. Children are grateful only

for that which is superfluous, taking the rest as a matter of

course, and they are not to be blamed either. For gratitude is a

fruit, and not a flower, and those budding natures know not yet

what it means. After a little while, another and a louder step

sounded on the stairs, this time accompanied by a whistle; and

the door opened noisily to give admittance to a boy of ten years

old, who also flung his books down, and opened his cry:

"Mother, give me some money, quick! The oysterman is just at the

end of the street, and I can get oysters enough for our supper

for thirty cents. Hurry up, mother, or he'll go away!" And the

boy performed a double-shuffle to relieve his impatience.

"I can't spare the money," his mother said faintly.

"Well, what have you got for supper, then?" he asked fretfully.

The mother made no answer, and the boy turned to his sister for

an explanation.

{456}

"Bread and butter!" said Nell, with an air of ferocious sarcasm.

"Well, if I ever!" pronounced her brother, standing still with

his hands driven emphatically into the uttermost depths of his

pockets, and looking at his mother with an air at once astonished

and accusing. "If we live like this, I'll run away; see if I

don't!"

She turned upon them with a look that was either desperate or

angry.

"Children, wait till your sister comes home. Don't ask me for

anything."

Frank gave the door a bang, pulled his cap still closer on to his

head, since he ought to have pulled it off, and taking a seat by

the window, sat kicking his chair in concert with his sister. The

mother continued her preparations with the air of a culprit

watched by her judges.

Unheard in this duet of heels, a softer step ascended the stairs,

and a young lady opened the door and entered, a smile on her

pretty face, her breath quickened and her color heightened by the

run up-stairs, and waves of yellow hair drawn back from her white

forehead. She tossed her hat aside, and sank into a chair.

"There, mother, I do feel tired and hungry," she said; then,

catching a glimpse of her mother's face, started up, exclaiming,

"What is the matter?"

"Mr. Sanborn has been here," Mrs. Lane answered unsteadily,

without looking up.

The daughter's countenance showed her anticipation of evil news.

"And what of that?" she asked.

"He has raised the rent," was the faint answer.

"How much?"

"Eight dollars a month?"

"Impossible!" cried the daughter, flushing with excitement. "We

pay now all that the three rooms are worth. He knows what my

salary is, and that I cannot give any more."

"He says he can get that for the rooms," her mother said.

"Then we will go elsewhere!"

"We cannot!" whispered the mother despairingly, for the first

time raising her woeful eyes. "Every place is full. They are

going to tear down houses to widen two or three streets, and Mr.

Sanborn says that people will have to go out of town to live."

"What are we to do!" exclaimed the girl, pacing excitedly to and

fro. "We only just managed to get along before. Did you tell him,

mother?"

"I told him everything, Anne; and he said that he was very sorry,

but that his family _was_ an expensive one, and it cost him

a good deal to live; and, in short, that he must have the eight

dollars more."

"He is a villain!" cried Anne Lane. "And I will tell him so. I

should think his family was an expensive one. Look at their

velvets, and laces, and silks! Look at their pictures and their

curtains! One of my scholars told me to-day that Minnie Sanborn

said they were going to have a Christmas-tree that will cost five

hundred dollars. Think of that! And this is the way they pay for

it!"

"Don't say anything to him, Anne," pleaded her mother, in a

frightened tone. "Remember, he is one of the committee, and can

take your school away from you."

The young teacher's countenance fell. It was true; her employment

did, in some measure, depend on the good-will of this man.

She choked with the thought, then broke out again.

"The hypocrite! I have seen him at prayer-meetings, and heard him

make long prayers and pious speeches."

{457}

The mother sighed, and remained silent. She had been wont to

check her daughter's somewhat free animadversions, and to make an

effort, at least, to defend them of whom Anne said, "Their life

laughs through and spits at their creed;" but now the bitter

truth came too near.

There was a moment of silence, the children sitting still and

awed, the mother waiting despondently, while the fatherless girl,

who was the sole dependence of the household, did some rapid

brain-work.

"You think he really means it, mother?" she asked, without

pausing in her walk.

"Yes, there is no hope. I almost went on my knees to him."

There the widow's self-control broke down suddenly, and, putting

her hands over her face, she burst into a passion of tears.

It is a terrible thing to see one's mother cry in that way; to

see her, who soothed our childish sorrows, who seemed to us the

fountain of all comfort, herself sorrowing, while we have no

comfort to give.

Anne Lane's face grew pale with pain, and it seemed for a moment

that she, too, would lose courage. But she was a brave girl, and

love strengthened her.

"There, there, mother!" she said. "Don't cry! I guess we can make

out some way. Couldn't we do with two rooms? I could sleep with

you and Nell, and Frank could have a pillow out here on the

sofa."

"I thought of that," the mother sobbed drearily. "But he said

that the rooms go together."

The girl's breath came like that of some wild creature at bay.

"Then we must draw in our expenses somewhere. We must give up our

seats in church, and I will do the washing."

"I meant to do the washing, dear," her mother said eagerly. "And

perhaps I might get some work out of the shops. You know I have a

good deal of time to spare."

Even as she spoke, a sharp cough broke through her words, and her

face flushed painfully.

"No, mother, no!" the daughter said, resolutely holding back her

tears. "You are not able to work. Just leave that to me. Washing

makes round arms, and I find my elbows getting a little sharp. I

can save money and bring the dimples back at the same time."

There was a knock at the door, and their laundress came in, a

sober, sensible-looking Irishwoman.

"Good-evening, ma'am! Good-evening, miss! No, I won't sit down. I

must go home and take my young ones off the street, and give 'em

a bit of supper. I just stepped in to see if you want your

washing done to-morrow."

Mrs. Lane looked appealingly to her daughter to answer.

"We are sorry, Mrs. Conners," Anne said, "but we shall have to do

our own washing, this winter."

"O Lord!" cried the woman, leaning against the wall.

"There is no help for it," the girl continued, almost sharply,

feeling that their own distresses were enough for them to bear.

"Our rent has been raised, and we must save all we can."

"Oh! what'll I do, at all?" exclaimed the woman, lifting both

hands.

"Why, the best you can; just as we do," was the impatient reply.

Mrs. Conners looked at them attentively, and for the first time

perceived signs of trouble in their faces.

{458}

"The Lord pity us!" she said. "I don't blame you. But my rent is

raised, too. I've got to pay five dollars a month for the rooms I

have, and I don't know where I'll get it. It's little I thought

to come to this when Patrick was alive--the Lord have mercy on

him! The last thing he said to me when he went away to California

was, 'Margaret, keep up courage, and don't let the children on

the street; and I'll send you money enough to live on; and I'll

soon come back and buy us a little farm.' And all I ever heard of

him, since the day he left me, is the news of his death. Now I'll

have to take the children and go to the poor-house. All I could

do last winter only kept their mouths full, let alone rent. I

couldn't put a stitch on them nor me; and you wouldn't believe

how cold I am with no stockings to my feet, and little enough

under my rag of a dress. I couldn't buy coal nor wood. The

children picked up sticks in the street, and after my work was

over I had to go down to the dump, and pick coal till my back was

broke."

"Who is your landlord?" Mrs. Lane asked.

"Mr. Mahan--Andrew Mahan, that lives in a big house in the

square. And he asks five dollars for two rooms in that shanty,

that's squeezed into a bit of a place where nothing else would

go. Besides, the house is so old that the rats have ate it half

up, and what's left I could carry off on my back in a day. When

Mr. Mahan came to-day, his dog crawled through the door before it

was opened. I said to him, says I, 'Sir, when the wind and the

rain take possession of a house, it belongs to God, and no man

has a right to ask rent for it.' You see, I was mad. And so was

he, by that same token."

"But he is an Irishman, and a member of your own church," said

Anne.

"And why not?" demanded the woman. "Do you think that Yankees are

the only ones that grind the poor? Yes, Mr. Mahan is rich, and he

lives in style, and sends his daughters to a convent school in

Montreal. And often I've seen him in church, dressed in his

broad-cloths, and beating his breast, with his face the length of

my arm, and calling himself a sinner; and troth, I thought to

myself, 'that's true for ye!'"

Anne Lane went into her school-room

the next morning with a burning

heart, and it did not soothe her feelings

to see Mr. Sanborn, her landlord,

appear at the door, a few minutes

after, smilingly escorting a clerical-looking

stranger, who had come to visit the school.

Mr. Sanborn, though not an educated

man, chose to consider himself

a patron of education; made himself

exceedingly consequential in school

affairs, and had now brought a distinguished

visitor to see his pet school,

the "Excelsior." Anne Lane had one

of the show-classes, and he began the

exhibition with her.

"Commence, and go on with your

exercises just as if there were no one

here," he said, with a patronizing

smile, after they had taken their

seats. "This gentleman wishes to

see the ordinary daily working of

our system."

The first exercise was a reading

from the Bible, and a prayer by the

teacher, and Anne's fingers were

unsteady as she turned over the leaves

for a chapter. Her eyes sparkled

as she caught sight of one, and her

pulses tingled as she read, her fine,

deliberate enunciation and strong emphasis

arresting fully the attention of

her hearers:

"Times are not hid from the Almighty:

but they that know him, know not his days.

"Some have removed landmarks,

have taken away flocks by force, and fed them.

{459}

"They have violently robbed the fatherless, and stripped the

poor common people.

"They have taken their rest at noon among the stores of them,

who after having trodden the wine-presses suffer thirst.

"Out of the cities they have made men to groan; and God will

not suffer it to pass unrevenged.

"Cursed be his portion upon the earth: let him not walk by the

way of the vineyards.

"Let him pass from snow-water to excessive heat, and his sin

even to hell.

"Let mercy forget him: may worms be his sweetness; let him be

remembered no more, but be broken in pieces like an unfruitful

tree."

Closing the book then, Anne Lane dropped her face into her

shaking hands, and repeated, almost inaudibly, the Lord's prayer.

Mr. Sanborn was not dull, but he was incredulous. It was almost

impossible that this little school-mistress would dare to mean

_him_. Yet that new sternness in the young face, ordinarily

so smiling, the passion in her voice, with the remembrance of his

last interview with Mrs. Lane, altogether made up a pretty strong

case against her.

"She makes a strange selection from the Scriptures to read to

children," whispered the stranger to him, as Anne hurriedly went

through with the first recitations.

"Very strange, sir! very strange!" answered the other, stammering

with anger. "And what is worse, it is intended as an insult to

me. I have found it necessary to raise the rent of my houses. She

is a tenant of mine, and this is her revenge. I hope, sir, that

if you have anything to say on the subject, you will not hesitate

to speak freely."

The Rev. Mr. Markham sat and considered the case, laying down

certain points in his mind. Firstly, women should be sweet,

humble, and modest. Secondly, sweetness, modesty, and humility,

with firmness and patience, should especially characterize a

teacher of youth. Thirdly, persons in authority, clergymen,

school-committee men, etc., should be treated with scrupulous

respect by all their subordinates.

The reverend gentleman put on his spectacles, the better to see

this young woman who had so boldly vetoed his fundamental

doctrines. She held herself very erect, no modest droop whatever;

there was a little flicker of heat-lightning in her eyes, and a

steady, dark-red spot on each cheek; moreover, she had red hair.

Verdict for the plaintiff. She must have a reprimand, a warning,

and, on repetition of the offence, must be informed that she is

no longer considered a suitable person to mould the minds of

youth.

Poor little Anne Lane! This great, stupid, conceited man did not

dream that her aching heart was laden with sweetness as a hive

with honey, and that what he called a sweet woman was a

sugar-coated woman. He did not allow that there might be some

exceptions to his third rule. The reprimand was delivered

pitilessly, the warning made sufficiently plain then, the two

gentlemen withdrew, leaving the teacher pale and stunned. The

visitor had taken the coldest possible leave, and Mr. Sanborn had

not noticed her at all.

"Oh! why did I yield to anger?" she thought, in terror and

distress. "What right have the poor to feelings, to thoughts? How

dare they denounce wrong, even when they die by it? What was I

thinking of?"

A thrill of pain ran through her every nerve at this last

question.

{460}

She had been thinking all the time of her mother's sobbing words,

"I almost went on my knees to him!"

The month crept on toward Christmas. Unknown to her daughter,

Mrs. Lane had spent day after day going about the shops and

vainly soliciting work. She had not sufficient clothing to

protect her from the weather; she was weakened by sorrow and

anxiety, and the disease, which had long been threatening and

reaching out for her, made a final grasp. With a terror, all the

more terrible in that she could not speak of it, she felt her

lungs give way and her breath grow shorter. What would her young

children do without her? If she should be long ill, how were the

doctor's bills to be paid? How were the funeral expenses to be

met? What crushing burden, beside the sorrow, was she going to

lay upon the already burdened shoulders of her poor little girl?

She only prayed that the blow might fall swiftly. Poor people

can't afford to die leisurely.

One day, about a week before Christmas, Anne came home and found

her mother lying senseless upon the floor. Mrs. Lane had held up

as long as she could, and now her powers of endurance were gone.

But she had her prayer, for the blow fell swiftly. On Christmas

morning all her troubles passed away.

Christmas evening came, and all was still in the house. The

neighbors had kindly done what they could, and two of them sat

with the lifeless form of what had once been the mother of these

children. Frank and Nell had cried themselves to sleep, and Anne

was left with the night upon her hands. She could not sleep, and

she could not pray. The faith that comforts in sorrow she knew

not. She had wept till her head reeled, and the air of the house

stifled her.

"I must get out and take the air, or I shall go crazy," she

thought. And, dressing hastily, she went out into the bright and

frosty night. She wandered aimlessly about the streets, scarcely

knowing where she went; not caring, indeed, so long as she walked

and felt the wind in her face.

"Christ on earth?" she thought. "I don't believe it! It's all a

fable."

On her way she met Mrs. Conners, weeping bitterly. She was going

to the watch-house after her little girl. Biddy had stolen a

turkey from a shop-window, and a policeman had caught her.

"It is the first thing the child ever stole," the poor woman

said; "and what made her do it was hunger. We haven't had a taste

of meat in the house this month, and poor Biddy heard the other

girls tell what they had for dinner, and it made her mad."

Anne listened as one in a dream, and went on without a word.

Presently she came into a sharp glare of light that fell across

the sidewalk from a brilliantly illuminated window. She paused to

look in, not because she cared what it was, but because she

longed for distraction. There was a long suite of parlors,

showily if not tastefully furnished, and filled with a gay

company, many of them children. In the farthest end of the rooms

stood a magnificent Christmas-tree, decked with colored candles,

flowers, and fruits, and hanging full of presents. The company

were all assembled about the tree, and, as she looked, a smiling

gentleman stepped up, with the air of a host, and began to

distribute the Christmas gifts.

Anne Lane's heart stood still when she recognized Mr. Sanborn.

{461}

"O you murderer!" she moaned, as she sank exhausted on the icy

steps. "Your candles and your flowers are red with my mother's

blood!"

When the Christmas angels looked down upon the earth that night

to see how fared the millions, to whom in the morning they had

sung their song of joy, their eyes beheld alike the rich man in

his parlor and the stricken girl who lay outside his door.

Did they record of him that he had "kept the feast," and worthily

remembered one who came that day "to fill the hungry with good

things"?

Or did they write against him the fearful judgment which had once

already sounded in his ears,

"Let mercy forget him:

Let him be remembered no more"?

----------

The General Convention Of The Protestant Episcopal Church.

The General Convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church, which

has just closed its labors, was looked forward to with much

interest by all Episcopalians. Each of the two important sections

of which their communion is composed was anxious for a better

explanation of some disputed points, or, at least, for a

vindication of its own interpretation of doctrine. It was

supposed that something would be settled in regard to the many

vexed questions of dogma and ritual which perplex the public no

less than the members of the church itself. For even the public

are interested to know what a church believes and professes, and

especially if that church makes any pretensions to authority. On

a careful review, however, of the journal, we believe that, while

a few are gratified, many are disappointed. Some are gratified

that no direct attack was allowed against their own favorite

opinions; while both High-Churchmen and Low-Churchmen stand

precisely where they stood before, no nearer each other, and no

better satisfied with the condition of things. Moderation, we are

told, is the characteristic of the Episcopal Church, by which we

are led to understand the sweet blending of contrarieties and

contradictions, and the permission to every one to believe what

approves itself to his private judgment. Catholics can hardly

comprehend such a harmony in discord, or discord in harmony. Even

candid minds, with no religious bias, are unable to appreciate

how contrary doctrines can be held in one and the same church,

and by equal authority. Our own opinion of this convention is,

that it has accomplished nothing for doctrine, nothing to heal

the disputes of its members, very little for discipline, and not

very much for the extension of the Episcopal communion, although

some of the plans proposed are good in themselves. We strongly

incline to think that very many Episcopalians will coincide with

our judgment. Under these three heads--of doctrine, discipline,

and church extension--let us briefly review the labors of the

convention.

{462}

I. It seems that the Nicene Creed was under consideration, and

that there was a strong intention to restore it to its "original

form;" but the _Church Record_ says that it was left

untouched _for the present_. If this important and ancient

symbol had been altered, there would have been quite an advance

in doctrine. A committee has been appointed to prepare an

accurate translation from the original Greek for the use of the

next convention. It therefore bides its time, when the same body

which expunged the Athanasian Creed may leave out the proper

doctrine of the Trinity, or the procession of the Holy Ghost from

the Son, or the communion of saints, or any other point of

Christian dogma. Nevertheless, by this convention nothing was

done on this subject.

The project of bracketing those portions of the Prayer-Book which

embody the doctrine of baptismal regeneration was not favored by

the committee on canons; and a motion to refer a proposition for

striking out the words, "Whosesoever sins thou dost remit, they

are remitted," was very summarily disposed of. It was decided not

to alter anything, to leave regeneration in the baptismal service

for the gratification of High-Churchmen, and also the denial of

it in the Articles for the consolation of Low-Churchmen.

This was the wisest course, and on this point we record with

satisfaction, "Nothing done."

As to the ordinal, the bishops are not obliged to say, "Whose

sins thou dost remit," etc., when they do not believe it, as it

is only to be used at option, and can therefore put the whole

offensive doctrine in their pockets. Why, then, should the wisdom

of an ecclesiastical body be disturbed on a mere matter of

opinion? Here, again, nothing was done.

So by the convention in both orders, nothing has been done in the

way of doctrine, save to leave all matters precisely as they

were, in full freedom for both sides. And here an anecdote comes

forcibly to our memory which illustrates the moderation and

liberty of the Episcopal communion. A young candidate was under

examination for deacon's orders before one of the oldest and

wisest of the High-Church bishops. "How," said that prelate, "do

you receive the Thirty-nine Articles?" "I receive them," said the

candidate, "in such a way as not to contradict the rest of the

Prayer-Book." "Perfectly right," replied the bishop; "and

moreover, it is the General Convention which imposes the articles

upon you, and this body is composed of all degrees of churchmen,

from those who hang on the walls of Rome to those who breathe the

atmosphere of Geneva. Between these two extremes, my son, you

have perfect liberty." And the young man was made a deacon, and

went away rejoicing that he had freedom of conscience and a wide

range of opinion, which he certainly had. But if the Lower House,

consisting of ministers and laymen, has been so prudent, the

Upper House has terribly committed itself. In the Catholic Church

the bishops alone are allowed to give judicial opinions in

doctrine; while among the Episcopalians, we believe that both

houses of the convention are equally authoritative, and, that one

has a negative upon the other. What the bishops have done,

therefore, does not propose to bind the conscience of any one, we

presume; yet certainly their solemn pastoral ought to be received

with great respect, and be considered at least as an indication

of the doctrinal position of their church. In this pastoral, we

find some remarkably interesting points, in regard to which,

though we may say nothing was _done_, we cannot say nothing

was spoken.

{463}

This address to the whole Episcopalian body asserts first that

"the incarnate God hath committed the great commission wherewith

he came into the world to _fallible_ men." What, then, is to

prevent the utter failure of this great commission, and the

complete ruin of all Christ's work? "To his ministers," saith the

pastoral, "thus weak and subject to error, he hath given his

infallible word, that, without peril of misleading their flock,

they may instruct them with all authority by speaking always

according to the Scriptures." Who is to know, then, that these

ministers speak according to the Scriptures, especially when they

differ one from another? Bishop Lee spoke very plainly at the

opening of the convention, and his interpretation of the

Scriptures gave some offence. Common sense pauses for a reply.

Each one must decide for himself whether his minister speaks

according to the Bible; and this being granted (which is the

fundamental position of all Protestant bodies) we do not see the

use of ministers, much less of bishops, much less of a council of

bishops. Christ's great commission, according to the Episcopalian

prelates, hinges on the chance that the Bible will be circulated

and rightly interpreted. The history of religion since the

Reformation does not cause us to think much of this chance.

The next point asserted in the pastoral is the necessity of

communion with the visible church. It is indeed asserted somewhat

equivocally, and with a _caveat_, that "the proper

individuality of every soul must not be merged in its corporate

relations to the body of Christ," an expression which we do not

at all understand. How the merging is to be accomplished we do

not see, unless by some physical process, and we are very glad

the bishops do not recommend it. Yet they say that "the necessity

of membership in the communion of which Christ is the head, is a

truth of vital importance." We presume they mean here a union

with the _visible_ body of Christ, for otherwise they would

really assert nothing, since what Christian denies the necessity

of union with Christ? And again, where would be the danger of

merging an individual in an invisible body?

But then comes the great question, Where is the body of Christ,

with which membership is necessary? Do the bishops mean to say it

is the Episcopal Church, and that it is necessary to belong to

their communion in order to be saved? We do not really know what

they mean, but are quite persuaded that they do not intend to

unchurch all the rest of mankind, and hence come to the

conclusion that these words are to be taken in a figurative

sense, that having spoken _much_ they have said nothing.

Now comes the great trouble which oppresses the prelates. "The

unscriptural and _uncatholic_ pretensions of the Bishop of

Rome, as in times past, so now, are a fruitful source of error

and evil." The pope has done all the mischief, he did it in the

early times, he did it in the middle ages, and he will keep doing

it now. What is it that he does "which is the bar to the

restoration of the unity of Christendom?" Why, he fulfils the

promise of our Lord: "Thou art Peter, and on this rock I will

build my church."

{464}

There is no visible body without a head, and he is that head by

the appointment of Christ. We think the blame ought to be laid

upon him who founded the church and made the Papacy. He made his

church to be _one_, with one head, when it seems that he

ought to have made it capable of division.

The bishops then urge upon their brethren to teach that "Jesus

Christ is the living centre of unity;" that "his true vicar is

the Holy Ghost;" that "the visible expression of catholic unity

is the apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the breaking of bread

and prayers."

Is it the English language which here we read, and is it our

mother-tongue which thus is made to confuse our minds? If any one

understands these phrases, we compliment him upon his sagacity.

We do not honestly believe that the venerable prelate who wrote

them knows what he means, or intends others to know.

"Jesus Christ is the living centre of unity." Certainly; but we

have been speaking of a _visible_ unity, and Jesus Christ is

not visible to us. The vicar of Christ is the Holy Ghost, a

singular office for the third person-of the undivided Trinity,

and he is not visible either. The invisible Christ has an

invisible vicar on earth, and this is the coequal and coeternal

Spirit! The visible expression of Catholic unity is the

"apostles' doctrine and fellowship, the breaking of bread and

prayers."

Oh! for the good and honest heart among the Episcopalians to see

that these words are empty sounds which mean nothing at all.

"Where is the apostles' doctrine and fellowship?" Is it in the

Episcopal Church alone, and if not, where is it? The bishops

ought to have said that _their_ doctrine was the apostles',

that _their_ fellow ship was the apostles', or if they had

doubts on the point, they should have told us unequivocally where

to find these important and absolutely necessary "expressions of

catholic unity." We are here reminded of an old negro who in our

young days used to speak Latin fluently; but as his phrases were

made up of plural genitives, we could only hear the sonorous

"_Bonorum, filiorum, malorum, optimorum_," without

comprehending one single word. In like manner, with at least the

common intelligence which God has given us, we do not comprehend

this pastoral, unless it really means, in circumlocution, to say

nothing.

The bishops then go on to defend the Anglican reformation, and

hold up to condemnation the attempts made by some High-Churchmen

to disparage it. And in this connection they "especially condemn

any doctrine of the Holy Eucharist which implies that after

consecration the proper nature of bread and wine does not remain,

which _localizes_ in them the bodily presence of our Lord,

which allows any adoration other than that of Christ himself."

Here we do think the prelates have said something, and we can

understand what they mean. We would have preferred that they

should have used language more direct, and without any

insinuations. But we understand them to say that the bread and

wine are unchanged by their consecration, and that there is no

presence of Christ at all in the Eucharist. For as he is very

man, his presence must necessarily be a _bodily_ one, and

must be localized. We Catholics adore the blessed sacrament only

because it is Christ himself; because the bread and wine are

changed into his body.

{465}

The bishops here deny any such presence of Christ, and go on to

assert that the humanity of our Lord is only to be found at the

right hand of God in heaven.

For this reason, very appropriately, the ceremonies of the

ritualists are denounced, because they are built upon a doctrine

which supposes Christ to be present on the altar. Will it now be

believed that the organ of the ritualists, in New York, expresses

itself pleased with this part of the pastoral? We blush for the

insincerity and dishonesty of men who love to call themselves

"_Catholic priests_." They are satisfied with this open

denial of any real presence of Christ in the Eucharist, and "they

will work on with new vigor, cheered and _sustained_ by the

admonitions of their fathers in God." If such admonitions cheer

them, what kind of admonition would dishearten them?

No, my friends, you are not cheered, nor sustained; but being

determined to make the best of your cause, you strive to look

pleasant. God is the judge. You may deceive yourselves and

mislead others, but you are responsible to him for calling white

black, and black white.

On questions of doctrine we find, then, that the convention has

done nothing, save that the bishops have asserted, on their own

authority, that Christ's commission has been committed to a

_fallible_ instrumentality; that communion with the body of

Christ is necessary, while no instructions are given as to what

and where that body is to be found; that the pope is the great

obstacle to catholic unity; that the vicar of our Lord on earth

is the Holy Ghost; that the Anglican reformation is good and to

be imitated; that there is no presence whatever of Christ in the

Holy Eucharist; and that the extravagances of the ritualists are

entirely to be condemned.

We do not remember any ecclesiastical body which has said more

striking things than these; but as no canons have been made, we

must only take them as the opinions of the bishops of the

Protestant Episcopal Church in 1868.

II. In regard to discipline, we find that there were discussions

on many subjects, but that very few laws were passed.

In the early part of the session, an attempt was made to change

the name of their body from "General Convention" to "National

Council," or something similar. The disputes were quite racy, one

member insisting that "convention" was a _dirty_ word. But

the delegates were unwilling to rebaptize themselves, and after

three or four days the whole thing was dropped.

The singing by the boys in surplices, which we believe is usual

in Trinity chapel, was so much objected to by some of the

members, that they withdrew from the church during the service,

until the point was conceded and the boys were put away. No

canon, however, was introduced on this subject. Shortly after,

the sessions of the deputies were removed to the church of the

Transfiguration, where the _Church Record_ tells us that

"the music was led by some of the deputies, and a beautiful

marble altar, with a _large_ brass cross, and a pair of

candlesticks _with candles_, added to the solemnity of the

scene." We are glad that our ritualistic friends had such great

consolations.

{466}

The question of adopting the provincial system of the Catholic

Church, which would have practically made Dr. Potter an

archbishop and Bishop Smith a kind of patriarch, was under

consideration, but finally gave way to the "federation of

dioceses," which means, we believe, the small convention of a few

dioceses, instead of the large one of them all. The small one is,

however, to be subject to the large one.

A canon was passed that no clergyman shall unite in marriage any

divorced persons having a husband or wife living, except the

innocent party in a suit for divorce on the ground of adultery.

This is a great advance toward the law promulgated by our Lord,

St. Matthew v. 32 and xix. 9. The next time they will probably

take the whole verse, and adopt the latter clause, as well as the

former. We congratulate the Episcopal Church upon this really

serious improvement in a practice pregnant with great evil.

Some canons were also adopted concerning clerical support and the

trials of ministers, which have no general interest and need not

here be enumerated.

The Rev. Mr. Tyng and his friends were quite anxious to get the

canon, in pursuance of which he was admonished, altered or

interpreted; but after several discussions they failed to

accomplish anything favorable to their cause, the temper of the

majority of the convention being adverse to any changes. A slight

amendment to what the _Church Record_ calls the "canon on

_intrusion_" was passed, and the officiating of

_dissenting_ ministers is positively forbidden. The most

unpleasant part of this matter is that, in the opinion of the

Low-Churchmen, the canon is not yet quite clear. They do not

understand it as some of their brethren do; and we are told that,

even during the session of the convention, the Rev. Mr. Tyng

permitted a Presbyterian minister to preach in his church.

A very important improvement was made, however, by which Catholic

priests who leave the church, and desire to become Episcopalian

ministers, shall be put upon a longer probation. Heretofore only

six months were necessary; now a full year is required. We think

this change important for the Episcopal Church, because, as far

as our experience goes, priests, who put themselves in such a

position, require quite a long period to fit themselves for so

honorable a profession. We hope, for the well-being of the

Protestant Episcopal ministry, they will at the next convention

extend this probation to six years. They may rest assured they

will have no cause to regret it.

The subject of ritual attracted considerable attention. Various

memorials were presented against the innovations of late days, by

which the practices of the Catholic Church have been fitted into

the Prayer-Book. It was proposed to prohibit by canon the wearing

of other vestments than the surplice, black stole, bands, and

gown; surpliced choirs, candlesticks, crucifixes, super-altars,

bowing at the name of Jesus, the use of the sign of the cross,

elevation of the _elements_ or _of the alms_, and the

use of incense. After some excitement, the whole matter was

referred to the committee on canons, who, being divided in

opinion, gave two contradictory reports. The majority report

recommends moderation and forbearance, that every one be careful

to do right, and that then there can be no just cause of offence.

In any doubt as to what is right, reference should be made to the

Ordinary, whose godly counsel in each diocese should be the rule

of opinion.

{467}

The minority of the committee were in favor of passing a law

forbidding the objectionable practices which we have enumerated.

After a very protracted discussion, neither of the reports was

accepted; but a resolution was adopted which asks "the House of

Bishops to set forth at the next convention such additional

rubrics in the Book of Common Prayer as, in their judgment, may

be decided necessary;" and that in the meanwhile reference should

be made in each case to the diocesan. The House of Bishops

replied that, while they would not think of altering the

Prayer-Book, they would consider the whole subject, with a view

to action, if it should be thought expedient at the next

convention.

Thus the whole matter is postponed for three years, and, in the

interim, ritualists must seek such dioceses as are favorable to

their views. While Dr. Potter has no objection to the use of

Catholic vestments, we see no reason why Dr. Dix and his friends

should not come out at once with the chasuble and the incense. We

earnestly hope, for the cause of honesty and truth, that they

will do so. The case is different under the _régimes_ of

Bishops Coxe and McIlvaine who are seriously opposed to any

alterations of the existing ritual. Ritualists must migrate to

the bishops whose godly counsels will allow them freedom of

action. It is true, as we have seen, that the pastoral of the

whole House of Bishops condemns their practices; but in spite of

this each one of the prelates may have his own counsel, "not

having merged his individuality in his corporate relations to the

body of Christ."

III. It remains to consider what the convention has done in

regard to the extension of their own church, as was its first

interest. Under this head we can briefly review what was said

upon the relations of the Episcopal Church to other Christian

bodies, and the views expressed by the deputies upon the

condition and growth of their own communion.

In regard to other Christian denominations, the Episcopal Church

is singularly unfortunate. It has communion with no other body of

Christians in the entire world. It objects to the other

Protestant sects, on the ground that they are irregular, and

refuses to allow any of their ministers to officiate in its

churches, as we have seen by "the canon on intrusion." It calls

itself a _branch_ of the catholic church, that is to say,

those who speak for it call it by this title. The other branches

are the Eastern churches and the Roman Catholic Church; at least,

we are told so by those who say anything on this branch theory.

With these other branches the Episcopal Church has no communion,

however, and is not likely to have any. Nothing need be said of

the Roman Church, for its action and language have always been

decided and clear. But the Eastern branches have condemned the

Anglican doctrine and orders much more plainly than the

Episcopalians have condemned their Protestant brethren. Not one

single instance has been found where a Greek bishop has been

willing to give communion to a member of the Anglican branch,

without the abjuration of his errors; and the rejection of the

orders of the English ministers is as unequivocal in the East as

it is in the West. Moreover, the doctrines specially condemned by

the Thirty-nine Articles are held as firmly in the Eastern branch

as in the Western. With all due respect, therefore, we agree with

Bishop Lee, and say that, if the Episcopal Church is not a

Protestant church, it has no right to be a church at all. Why

then do our High-Church friends hanker after the patronage of the

Greek Church?

{468}

It will not help them any as far as the Catholics are concerned,

and it will certainly fail to make the disinterested public think

any better of their claims. They may go upon their faces before

the Archbishop of Moscow, and "compromise themselves;" but though

like a gentleman he will treat them with courtesy, he will have a

meaner opinion of them, and in his heart will say, "Gentlemen, if

you have no feet of your own to stand upon, it seems to me you

had better sit down."

The High-Churchmen, who seemed to have had the upper hand in the

convention, have established a committee on church unity. This

able body is to labor on this important subject, with probably

the same results as hitherto. No care seems to be given to the

thousand Protestant bodies who came into the world either before

or after the Episcopal Church. They are out of the question, and,

if they want religious unity, must look for it by themselves. But

all attention is devoted to the East, where, if they could get

even a passing smile, as if of recognition, it would do their

hearts good. Perhaps now they will get it, because they have gone

so far as to recognize the jurisdiction of the Greek Church in

Alaska. The _Church Record_ calls this a great advance, and

we suppose it means that they will send no ministers to Alaska,

because, if they did, it would conflict with the authority of the

Greek bishop. This makes it bad for any Episcopalian who may go

up there, since they will have no church to go to. The Greek

Church will not admit them to its communion, and they cannot have

any, of their own. The upholders of the branch-theory must,

however, put up with this small inconvenience.

Three years are now to be spent in making an accurate translation

of the Nicene Creed in "the original Greek." Then we expect to

see "the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son" omitted in

the Prayer-Book. The question is not whether it is true, or

whether the Scriptures teach it. The only question is, Does the

Eastern branch receive it? If it does not, then it must go. But

we venture to inquire if the learned committee has made itself

sure that the authorities at Moscow will be satisfied with this

simple concession. We know that there is no evidence like that of

sight, and hence respectfully recommend the authorities of the

convention to go to the East, and there ask for a recognition.

Then, when three years come around, we shall hear some positive

answer. It would be a pity to alter the Creed, without any

recompense whatever.

Sympathy is also expressed with the Italians who are trying to

subvert the temporal power of the pope, and especially with those

priests who would like to reform the Catholic Church after the

model of the Anglican communion. One gentleman of much

information asked, in the convention, if there really was any

movement of the kind in Italy. He said he had read many travels,

and had travelled himself extensively, and had never seen or

heard of any _good_ priests who were disposed to turn

Protestants, and as for the bad ones, he had not much faith in

them. The committee replied that, in their opportunities for

correspondence, they had seen much, and the results would one day

appear. We wait in patience, then, to see how many good and moral

priests will appear in what will probably be called the

Protestant Episcopal Church in Italy.

{469}

As the East, however, is nearer to them than the United States,

and as England is somewhat passive, we would suggest that this

new church be placed, for a time at least, under the jurisdiction

of some Greek bishop. This will be more convenient, and less

likely to offend, because the Greek bishops cannot marry as the

Anglican bishops have power to do. But then a perplexing question

will arise. If the Eastern branch has jurisdiction in Alaska, has

not the Roman branch some jurisdiction in Italy? This is among

the perplexities of the branch theory. To plain common sense, a

church with branches is not _one_ church, and to Catholics

the ultra-Protestant theory is far more tenable. We believe,

therefore, that the efforts toward church union will only prove

more plainly the isolation of the Episcopal Church from all other

Christian bodies. We are for the largest liberty possible with

truth, but we are not for falsehood; and we have a right to

demand that a man shall call himself what he _is_, and not

persist in calling himself what he _is not_.

The view of the state of the church given by the committee is

quite a favorable one, though we do not see that Episcopalians

are largely increasing by conversion. Several new dioceses were

formed, which will, no doubt, divide labor if they do not

multiply population. The most important subject which engrossed

the convention was that of education; and the principle, so long

acted upon by the Catholic Church, was virtually adopted.

It was resolved to establish parochial schools wherever possible,

in order to save the young from perversion by the many popular

errors of our day. We earnestly hope that this resolution will

generally be acted upon. It is quite evident that any

denomination which has positive doctrines to teach must take care

early to teach its children the principles of faith, and that a

system of education without Christianity is effectually an

infidel system. When the Episcopalians shall have built their

parochial schools, they will be able to appreciate the labors of

Catholics, who, far poorer, and far more numerous, have never

been willing to trust their children to the public schools. Then

perhaps they will unite with us in asking the state legislatures

for a just proportion of the funds raised by taxation and devoted

to the education of the young. We could never see anything but

simple justice in this demand. The action of the Episcopal

Convention, if carried out, will be an advance in favor of our

practice, and an argument for the propriety of our claims.

The bishops express themselves in their pastoral as anxious to

promote the works of mercy and education, by the establishment of

communities of men and women. We understand that such

organizations are to be devoted to the service of the poor, sick,

and ignorant, and that they are to be modelled after the plan of

our Christian Brothers or our Sisters of Charity and Mercy. They

are to be, however, "free from ensnaring vows or enforced

confessions." The members are to come and go when they please,

and devote themselves to the labors of the community as long as

they are disposed, free to leave, without scruple, at any time.

We fear that on such principles communities would not hold

together long, nor always act together but we are very desirous

that the Episcopalians should thoroughly try them. Confession is

to be permitted, it seems, when it is not forced; hence it would

appear that the House of Bishops is in favor of _voluntary_

confession for the members of these proposed associations.

{470}

Any step of this kind is a great advance, for it leads the

earnest mind toward the true Bride of the Lamb, "whose clothing

is of wrought gold." It is hard to see why voluntary confession

should be permitted to these communities and not to the

Episcopalians in general. But perhaps the bishops did not mean to

favor sacramental confession, although they would seem to do so

by the language of the pastoral.

In this brief summary we have given what seems to us a candid

review of the work of the last Episcopal Convention, as it

interests Catholics and the public generally. If at any time

there has been anything savoring of the ridiculous or comical in

our language, we beg our reader to refer it to the

subject-matter, and not to any intention of ours. He that makes

assumptions of prerogatives to which he has no title will

certainly excite the laughter of his neighbors. The historian who

simply records facts is in no way to blame. When Episcopalian

ministers call themselves Catholic priests, people will

innocently laugh: and perhaps we ourselves, with all our

courtesy, could not refrain from a smile. In like manner, when a

church isolates itself from all the world by claims which

everybody else on earth denies to it, there is something of the

ridiculous in its position, and, while we may be pained, we are

at the same time amused. If the committee on church union will

only labor a little harder, and once in a while travel abroad,

they may perhaps open the eyes of not a few.

The Episcopal Church must work either for us or for

Protestantism. It has no harvest of its own to reap, and there is

no middle ground for the honest mind. It has already sent many a

gifted and pure soul to the home of truth and purity, and we

Catholics are daily gathering in those whom it has led to our

gates. We wish it God-speed in this work of conversion--in this,

perhaps unintentional, labor of love. Let the so-called "Catholic

priests" go on, and unprotestantize and catholicize their flocks.

They will never be able to feed the hunger they have excited, nor

satisfy the cravings of the heart in which God the Redeemer is

showing the marks of his love. We stand ready for them and their

children, to show them a truth and beauty which are real--a

church which is not the work of imagination, but a living

reality, formed and sustained by the incarnate Word. God grant

that they sport not too long with shadows--that they delay not

too long before the portals of Sion! "The night cometh in which

no man can work." "He that hath ears to hear, let him hear."

----------

{47l}

Christmas.

God an Infant--born to-day!

Born to live, to die, for me!

Bow, my soul; adoring say:

"Lord, I live, I die, for Thee."

Humble then, but fearless, rise:

Seek the manger where He lies.

Tread with awe the solemn ground:

Though a stable mean and rude,

Wondering angels all around

Throng the seeming solitude:

Swelling anthems, as on high,

Hymn a second Trinity. [Footnote 156]

[Footnote 156: Jesus, Mary, and Joseph are called

by theologians "The Earthly Trinity."]

Lo, in bands of swathing wrapt,

Meekly sleeps a tender Form:

God on bed of straw is lapt!

Breaths of cattle keep Him warm!

King of glory, can it be

Thou art thus for love of me?

Hail, my Jesus, Lord of might!

Who in tiny, helpless hand

Thy creations infinite

Holdest as a grain of sand!

Hail, _my_ Jesus--all my own!

Mine, as if but mine alone!

God made Man, and Man made God--

Natures Two in Person One,

I adore Thy Precious Blood,

Pulsing, burning to atone:

I adore Thy Sacred Heart,

Surest proof of what Thou art.

{472}

Hail, my Lady--full of grace!

Maiden Mother, hail to thee!

Poring on the radiant Face,

Thine a voiceless ecstasy;

Yet, sweet Mother, let me dare

Join the worship of thy prayer.

Mother of God--O wondrous name!

Bending seraphs hail thee Queen.

Mother of God--yet still the same

Mary thou hast ever been:

Still so lowly, though so great:

Mortal, yet immaculate!

O'er our exile's troubled sea,

Thou the star, no sky shall dim:

Christ our Light we owe to thee--

Him to thee, and thee to Him.

Take my heart, then: let it be

Thine in Him, and His in thee.

Joseph, hail--of gentlest power!

Shadow of the Father thou:

Thine to shield in danger's hour

Whom thy presence comforts now.

Mary trusts to thee her Child;

He, His Mother undefiled.

Teach me thou, then, how to live

All for them--my only all;

Looking to thy arm to give

Help in trial or in fall;

Till 'tis mine with thee to prove

What it is to die of love.

----------

{473}

From The French Of Erckmann And Chatrian.

The Invasion; Or, Yegof The Fool.

Chapter XIV.

At seven o'clock everything was still quiet.

From time to time Dr. Lorquin opened a window of the great hall

and looked abroad. Nothing was stirring; even the fires had gone

out.

Louise, seated near her father, gazed sadly and tenderly upon

him. She seemed to fear that she would never again see him, and

her reddened eyes showed that she had been weeping.

Hullin, though firm, showed signs of emotion.

The doctor and the Anabaptist, both grave and solemn in their

manner, were conversing, and Lagarmitte, behind the stove,

listened thoughtfully to their words.

"We have not only the right, but it is our duty to defend

ourselves," the doctor was saying. "Our fathers cleared these

woods and cultivated the land. They are now rightfully ours."

"Doubtless," answered the Anabaptist; "but it is written, Thou

shalt not kill! Thou shalt not spill thy brother's blood!"

Catherine Lefevre, whom this view of matters annoyed, turned

suddenly from her work, saying:

"Then if we believed as you do, we would let the Germans and

Russians drive us from house and home. Your religion is a famous

one for thieves! The Allies ask nothing better, I am sure. I do

not wish to insult you, Pelsly; you have been brought up in these

notions; but we will defend you despite yourself. I love to hear

of peace, but not when the enemy is at our doors."

Pelsly remained mute from astonishment, and Doctor Lorquin could

not repress a smile.

At the same moment the door opened, and a sentry entered, crying:

"Master Jean-Claude, come! I believe they are advancing."

"I am coming, Simon," answered Hullin, rising. "Embrace me,

Louise. Courage, my child; fear not, all will go well."

He clasped her to his bosom and his eyes filled with tears. She

seemed more dead than living.

"Be sure," said he to Catherine, "to let no one go out or

approach the windows."

He rushed from the house to the edge of the plateau, and cast his

eyes toward Grandfontaine and Framont, thousands of feet below

him.

The Germans had arrived the evening before, a few hours after the

Cossacks. They had passed the night, to the number of five or six

thousand, in barns, stables, or under sheds, and were now

clustering like ants, pouring from every door in tens and

twenties, and hurrying to buckle on knapsacks, fasten sabres, or

fix bayonets.

Others--cavalry--Uhlans, Cossacks, hussars, in green, gray, and

blue uniforms, faced with red or yellow, with caps of waxed cloth

or lamb-skin, were hastily saddling their horses or rolling their

blankets.

{474}

Trumpets were sounding at every street-corner, and drummers were

tightening their drum-cords. Every phase of military life seemed

there.

A few peasants, stretching their heads out of their windows,

gazed at all this; women crowded at the garret-windows, and

innkeepers filled flasks.

Nothing escaped Hullin, and such scenes were not new to him, but

Lagarmitte was petrified with wonder.

"How many they are!" he cried.

"Bah!" returned Hullin; "what does that matter? In my time, we

annihilated three armies of fifty thousand each of that same race

in six months, and we were not one to four. Rest easy, however;

we shall not have to kill all these; they will fly like hares.

You will see."

These judicious reflections uttered, he turned back to the

_abatis_, and the two followed a path which had been made in

the snow a couple of days before. The snow, hardened by the

frost, had become ice, and the trees formed an impassable

barrier. Below lay the ruined road.

As he appeared, Jean-Claude saw the mountaineers from Dagsberg in

groups, twenty paces distant from each other, in round holes like

nests which they had dug for themselves. These brave fellows were

seated on their haversacks, their fox-skin caps pulled down over

their heads and their muskets between their knees. They had only

to rise to view the road fifty yards beneath them at the foot of

a very slippery slope.

"Ha, Master Jean-Claude! When is the work to begin?"

"Easy, my boys; do not be impatient; in an hour you will have

enough to do."

"So much the better."

"Aim well at the height of the breast, and don't expose

yourselves more than you can help."

"Never fear for us, Master Jean-Claude."

"Do not forget to cease firing when Lagarmitte winds his horn; we

cannot afford to lose powder."

He found Materne at his post, lighting his pipe; the old man's

beard was frozen almost solid.

"They seem to be in no hurry to attack," said Jean-Claude. "Can

it be that they will take another route through the mountains?"

"Never fear it," answered the old man. "They need the road for

their artillery and baggage. Listen! The bugles are sounding,

'Boots and saddles.' But do you know, Hullin," asked the hunter

with a low chuckle, "what I saw a while ago in Grandfontaine? I

saw four Austrians knock old Dubreuil, the friend of the Allies,

down and thrash him well with sticks, the old wretch! It did my

heart good. I suppose he refused some of his wine to his good

friends."

Hullin listened to no more; for, happening to cast his eyes to

the valley, he saw a regiment of infantry debouching on the road.

Beyond, in the street, cavalry were advancing, five or six

officers galloping in front.

"At last!" cried the old soldier, his face lighting up with a

look of fierce determination--"at last!"

And dashing along the line, he cried:

"Attention, men of the Vosges!"

Lagarmitte followed with his bugle. Ten minutes after, when the

two, all breathless, had reached the pinnacle of the rock, they

saw the enemy's column fifteen hundred feet beneath them, about

three thousand strong, with their long white coats,

canvas-gaiters, bear-skin shakos, and red mustaches, their young

officers, sword in hand, curveting in the intervals between the

companies, and from time to time turning round and shouting

hoarsely, "Forvertz! forvertz!" while above the line the bayonets

flashed and glittered in the sun.

{475}

They were pressing on to the _abatis_ at the _pas de

charge_.

Old Materne, too, saw the Germans advancing, and his keen eyes

could even note the individuals of the mass. In a moment he had

chosen his quarry.

In the middle of the column, on a tall bay horse, rode an old

officer, wearing a white peruke, a three-cornered hat heavily

laced with gold, and a yellow sash. His breast was covered with

ribbons, and his thick black plumes danced merrily as he cantered

on.

"There is my man!" muttered the hunter, as he slowly brought his

piece to his shoulder.

A report, a wreath of white smoke, and the old officer had

disappeared. In a moment the whole line of intrenchments rattled

with musketry; but the Austrians, without replying, pressed

steadily upward, their ranks as regular and well aligned as if

they were on parade; and to speak truth, many a brave

mountaineer, mayhap the father of a family, as he saw that forest

of bayonets come on, thought that perhaps he might better have

remained at home in his village than have shouldered his rifle

for its defence. But as the proverb says, the wine was drawn,

naught but to drink remained!

When two hundred paces from the abatis, the enemy halted, and

began a rolling fire, such as the mountain echoes had never

before replied to. Bullets hailed on every side, cutting the

branches, scattering the icicles, and flattening themselves on

the rocks; their continued hiss was like the humming of a swarm

of bees. All this did not arrest the fire of the mountaineers,

and soon both sides were buried in thick gray smoke; but at the

end of ten minutes more, the drums beat out the charge, and again

the mass of bayonets dashed toward the _abatis_; and again

the cry of "Forvertz! forvertz!" rang out, but now nearer and

nearer, until the firm earth trembled beneath the tramp of

thousands of feet.

Materne, rising to his full height, with quivering cheeks and

flashing eyes, shouted, "Up! up!"

It was time. Many of the Austrians, almost all of them students

of philosophy, or law, or medicine, gathered from the breweries

of Munich, Jena, and other towns--men who fought against us

because they believed that Napoleon's fall would alone give them

freedom--many of these intrepid fellows had clambered on

all-fours over the frozen snow and hurled themselves upon the

works. But each who climbed the _abatis_ was met by a blow

from a clubbed musket, and flung back among his comrades.

Then did the strength and bravery of old Rochart the wood-cutter

show themselves. Man after man of these children of the Vaterland

did he stretch upon the whitened earth. Old Materne's bayonet ran

with blood. The little tailor, Riffi, loaded and fired into the

mass with the cool courage of a veteran, and Joseph Larnette,

Hans Baumgarten, whose shoulder was pierced by a ball, Daniel

Spitz, who lost two fingers by a sabre stroke, and a host of

others, will be for ever honored by their countrymen for their

deeds that day. For more than a quarter of an hour the fight was

hand to hand. Nearly all the students had fallen, and the others,

veterans accustomed to retiring honorably, turned to retrace

their steps.

{476}

At first they retreated slowly; then faster and faster. Their

officers urged them to the attack once more, and seconded their

words with blows from the flat of their swords, but in vain;

bullets poured among them from the _abatis_, and soon all

order was lost; the retreat was a wild rout.

Materne laughed grimly as he gazed after the flying foe, lately

advancing in such proud array, and shook his rifle above his head

in joy.

At the bottom of the slope lay hundreds of wounded. The snow was

red with blood, and in the midst of heaps of slain were two young

officers yet living, but crushed beneath the weight of their dead

horses.

It was horrible! But men are oftentimes savage as the beasts of

the forests. Not a man among the flushed mountaineers seemed to

have a thought for all the misery he saw before him; it even

seemed to rejoice many.

Little Riffi, carried away by a sublime ardor for plunder, glided

down the steep. He had caught a glimpse of a splendid horse, that

of the colonel whom Materne had shot, which, protected by a

corner of the rock, stood safe and sound.

"You are mine!" cried the tailor, as he seized the bridle. "How

astonished my wife Sapience will be!"

All the others envied him as he mounted his prize; but their envy

was soon checked when they saw the noble animal dash at full

speed toward the Austrians. The little tailor tugged at the

bridle, and shouted, and cursed, and prayed, but all to no

purpose. Materne would have fired, but he feared that in that

wild gallop he might kill the man, and soon Riffi disappeared

among the enemy's bayonets.

All thought he would be massacred at once, but an hour later they

saw him pass through the street of Grandfontaine, his hands bound

behind his back, and a corporal following with uplifted cane.

Poor Riffi! He did not long enjoy his triumph, and his comrades

at length laughed at his sad fate as merrily as if he had been a

Kaiserlik. Such is the nature of man; as long as he feels no ill

himself, the troubles of others affect him little.

Chapter XV.

The mountaineers were wild with exultation; their triumph knew no

bounds, and they looked upon each other as so many heroes.

Catherine, Louise, Doctor Larquin, all who had remained at the

farm, rushed out to greet the victors. They scanned the marks of

bullets, gazed at the blood-stained slope; then the Doctor

ordered Baumgarten and Spitz to the hospital, although the latter

insisted on still remaining at his post.

Louise distributed brandy among the men, and Catherine Lefevre,

standing on the edge of the slope, gazed at the dead and wounded.

There lay old and young, their faces white as wax, their eyes

wide and staring, their arms outstretched. Some had fallen in

attempting to rise, and the faces of some wore a look of fear as

if they yet dreaded these terrible blows which the clubbed rifles

had dealt. Others had dragged themselves out of the range of

fire, and their route was marked by tracks of blood.

Many of the wounded seemed resigned to their lot, and only

seeking a place to die; others gazed wistfully after their

regiment, which they could discern on its way to Framont--that

regiment with which they had quitted their native village, with

which they had till then safely braved the toils and dangers of a

long campaign, but which now abandoned them to die, far from

friends and home, surrounded by an infuriated foe.

{477}

And they thought how a trembling mother or sister would ask their

captain or their sergeant, "Did you know Hans, or Kasper, or

Nickel, of the first or second company?" And how coldly would

come the reply: "Let me see; it is very likely. Had he not brown

hair and blue eyes? Yes, I knew him; we left him in France near a

little village, the name of which I forget. He was killed by the

mountaineers the same day as the stout major, Yeri-Peter. A brave

fellow! Good evening."

Perhaps, too, some among them thought of a pretty Gretchen or

Lotchen, who had given them a ribbon, and wept hot tears at their

departure, and sobbed, "I will wait for you, Kasper. I will marry

no one but you!" Thou wilt wait long, poor girl!

All this was not very pleasant, and Mother Lefevre's thoughts, as

she gazed, wandered to Gaspard. Hullin, however, soon came with

Lagarmitte to where she stood, and cried exultantly:

"Hurrah, boys! you have seen fire, and those Germans yonder will

not boast much of this day's work."

He ran to embrace Louise, and then ran back to Catherine.

"Are you satisfied, Mother Lefevre? Fortune smiles; but what is

the matter?"

"Yes, Jean-Claude, I am satisfied; all goes well; but look yonder

upon the road; what a massacre!"

"War is war," replied Hullin gravely.

"Is there no way of helping that poor fellow there--the one

looking up at us with his large blue eyes? O heaven! they pierce

my very heart! Or that tall, brown-haired one binding his arm

with his handkerchief?"

"Impossible, Catherine! I am sorry; but we should have to cut

steps in the ice to descend; and the Austrians, who will be back

in an hour or two, would make use of them in their next attack.

But we must go and announce our victory through the villages, and

to Labarbe, and Jerome, and Piarette. Holla! Simon, Niklo,

Marchal! carry the news to our comrades. Materne, see that you

look sharp, and report the least movement."

They went together to the farmhouse, and Jean-Claude met the

reserve as he passed, and Marc-Dives on horseback in the midst of

his men. The smuggler complained bitterly of having had no part

in the fight; he felt disgraced, dishonored.

"Bah!" said Hullin, "so much the better. Watch on our right; if

we are attacked there, you will have enough to do."

Dives said nothing; his good humor could not so easily be

restored; nor that of his men--smugglers like himself--who,

wrapped in their mantles, and with their long rapiers dangling

from their sides, seemed meditating vengeance for what they

deemed a slight.

Hullin, unable to pacify them, entered the farm-house. Doctor

Lorquin was extracting the ball from the wound of Baumgarten, who

uttered terrible shrieks.

Pelsly, standing at the threshold, trembled in every limb.

Jean-Claude demanded paper and ink to send his orders to the

posts, and the poor Anabaptist had scarcely strength to go for

them. The messengers departed, proud enough to be the bearers of

the tidings of the first battle and victory.

{478}

A few mountaineers in the great hall were warming themselves at

the stove, and discussing the details of the fight in animated

tones. Daniel Spitz had his two fingers amputated, and sat behind

the stove, his hand wrapped in lint.

The men who had been posted behind the _abatis_ before

daybreak, not having yet breakfasted, were--each with a huge

piece of bread and a glass of wine--making up for lost time, all

the time shouting, gesticulating, and boasting as much as their

full mouths would allow them to, and every now and then, when

some one would speak of poor Riffi and his misfortunes, they were

ready to burst their sides laughing.

It was eleven o'clock, when Marc-Dives rushed into the hall,

crying:

"Hullin! Hullin! Where is Hullin?"

"Here!"

"Follow me--quick!"

The smuggler spoke in a strange tone. A few moments before, he

was furious at not having taken part in the battle; now he seemed

triumphant. Jean-Claude followed, sorely disquieted, and the hall

was cleared in a minute, all feeling that Marc's hurry was of

grave portent.

To the right of Donon stretches the ravine of Minières, through

which roars a torrent which rushes from the mountain-side to the

depths of the valley.

Opposite the plateau defended by the partisans, and on the other

side of the ravine, five or six hundred feet distant, rose a sort

of terrace with very steep sides, which Hullin had not deemed it

necessary to occupy, as he was unwilling to divide his forces,

and saw also that the position could be easily turned under cover

of the fir forest, if the enemy should occupy it.

Imagine the brave old man's dismay when, from the farm-house

door, he saw two companies' of Austrians climbing up the side

with two field-pieces, which, dragged up by strong ropes, seemed

to hang over the precipice. They were pushing at the wheels, too,

and in a few moments the guns would be on the flat top. He stood

for an instant as if struck by lightning, and then turned

fiercely on Dives.

"Could you not tell me of this before?" he cried. "Was it for

this I ordered you to watch the ravine? Our position is turned!

Our retreat is cut off! You have lost all!"

All present, even old Materne, shrank from the flashing eyes bent

upon the smuggler, and he, notwithstanding his usual cool

audacity, could not for some moments reply.

"Be calm, Jean-Claude," said he at last; "it is not so bad as you

think. My fellows have yet done nothing, and as we want cannon,

those shall be ours."

"Fool! Has your vanity brought us to this? You must needs fight,

boast--and for this you sacrifice us all! Look! they are coming

from Framont, too!"

Even as he spoke, the head of a new column, much stronger than

the first, appeared, advancing from Framont toward the

_abatis_ at the double-quick. Dives said not a word. Hullin,

conquering his rage in the face of danger, shouted:

"To your posts, all! Attention, Materne!"

The old hunter bent his head, listening.

Marc-Dives had recovered all his coolness.

"Instead of scolding like a woman," said he, "you had better give

me the order to attack those yonder from the cover of the woods."

{479}

"Do so, in heaven's name," cried Hullin. "Listen, Marc! We were

victorious, and your fault has risked all the fruits of our

victory. Your life shall answer for our success."

"I accept the terms."

The smuggler, springing upon his horse, threw his cloak proudly

over his shoulder, and drew his long, straight blade. His men

followed the example. Then, turning to the fifty mountaineers who

composed his troop, Dives pointed with his sword to the enemy,

and cried:

"We must have yon height, boys. The men of Dagsberg shall never

be called braver than those of the Sarre. Forward!"

The troops dashed on, and Hullin, still pale from the effects of

his anger, shouted after:

"Give them the steel!"

The tall smuggler, on his huge and strong steed, turned his head,

and a laugh broke from his lips. He shook his sword expressively,

and the troops disappeared in the wood.

At the same moment the Austrians, with their two

guns--eight-pounders--reached the level top, while the Framont

column still pressed up the slope. Everything was as before the

battle, save that now the mountaineers were between two fires.

They saw the two guns with their rammers and caissons distinctly.

A tall, lean officer, with broad shoulders and long, flaxen

mustaches, commanded. In the clear mountain air they seemed

almost within reach, but Hullin and Materne knew better; they

were a good six hundred yards away, further than any rifle could

carry.

Nevertheless, the old hunter wished to return to the

_abatis_ with a clear conscience. He advanced as near as

possible to the ravine, followed by his son Kasper and a few

partisans, and, steadying his piece against a tree, slowly

covered the tall officer with the light mustaches.

All held their breath lest the aim might be disturbed.

The report rang out, but when Materne placed the butt of his

rifle again on the ground, to see the effect of his shot, all was

as before.

"It is strange how age affects the sight," said he.

"Affects your sight!" cried Kasper. "Not a man from the Vosges to

Switzerland can place a ball at two hundred yards as true as

you."

The old forester knew it well, but he did not wish to discourage

the others.

"Well, well," he replied, "we have no time to dispute about it.

The enemy is coming. Let every man do his duty."