"I have often entered just after she had departed, and the

beneficial influence of her presence could be still seen in the

countenances of the poor. Her presence diffused resignation,

peace, contentment, and a peculiar cheerfulness in the meanest

and most wretched hovels of poverty, where she enters without

hesitation. This is certainly a rare quality in so young a

creature. She rejoices the hearts of the children by giving them

clothes, sometimes made by herself, or pictures and the like. Her

whole object appears to be to reconcile and make all happy. I

have just seen her for the first time; her beauty is remarkable,

and might well adorn an angel. The common people wish only to

Germanize 'Angela' when they call her 'Angel.' But she is indeed

an angel of heaven to the poor and needy."

Frank said nothing. He moved on in silence toward the

weather-cross.

"I have accidentally discovered a singular custom of your

'angel,' doctor. There is at the weather-cross a Madonna of

stone. Angela has imposed upon herself the singular task of

adorning this Madonna, daily, with fresh flowers."

"You are a profane fellow, Richard. You should not speak in such

a derisive tone of actions which are the out-flowings of pious

sentiment."

"Every one has his hobby. What will not people do through

ambition? I know ladies who torture a piano for half the night,

in order to catch the tone of the prima-donna at the opera. I

know women who undergo all possible privations to be able to wear

as fine clothes, as costly furs, as others with whom they are in

rivalry. This exhaustive night-singing, these deprivations, are

submitted to through foolish vanity. Perhaps Angela is not less

ambitious and vain than others of her sex. As she cannot dazzle

these country folk with furs or toilette, she dazzles their

religious sentiment by ostentatious piety."

"Radically false!" said the doctor. "Charity and virtue are

recognized and honored not only in the country, but also in the

cities. Why do not your coquettes strive for this approval?

Because they want Angela's nobility of soul.

{758}

And again, why should Angela wish to gain the admiration of the

peasants? She is the daughter of the wealthiest man in the

neighborhood. If such was her object, she could gratify her

ambition in a very different way."

"Then Angela is a riddle to me," returned Richard. "I cannot

conceive the motives of her actions."

"Which are so natural! The maiden follows the impulses of her own

noble nature, and these impulses are developed and directed by

Christian culture, and convent education. Angela was a long time

with the nuns, and only returned home two years ago. Here you

have the very natural solution of the riddle."

"Are you acquainted with the Siegwart family?"

"No; what I know of Angela I learned from the people of

Salingen."

They arrived at the platform. Klingenberg stood silent for some

time admiring the landscape. The view did not seem to interest

Richard. His eyes rested on Angela's home, whose white walls,

surrounded by vineyards and corn-fields, glistened in the sun.

"It is worth while to come up here oftener," said Klingenberg.

"Angela's work," said Richard as he drew near the statue. The

doctor paused a moment and examined the flowers.

"Do you observe Angela's fine taste in the arrangement of the

colors?" said he. "And the forget-me-nots! What a deep religious

meaning they have."

They returned by another way to Frankenhöhe.

"Angela's pious work," began Richard after a long pause, "reminds

me of a religious custom against which modern civilization has

thus far warred in vain. I mean the veneration of saints. You, as

a Protestant, will smile at this custom, and I, as a Catholic,

must deplore the tenacity with which my church clings to this

obsolete remnant of heathen idolatry."

"Ah! this is the subject you alluded to yesterday," said the

doctor. "I must, in fact, smile, my dear Richard! But I by no

means smile at 'the tenacity with which your church clings to the

obsolete remnants of heathen idolatry.' I smile at your queer

idea of the veneration of the saints. I, as a reasonable man,

esteem this veneration, and recognize its admirable and

beneficial influence on human society."

This declaration increased Frank's surprise to the highest

degree. He knew the clear mind of the doctor, and could not

understand how it happened that he wished to defend a custom so

antagonistic to modern thought.

"You find fault," continued Klingenberg, "with the custom of

erecting statues to these holy men in the churches, the forest,

the fields, the houses, and in the market?"

"Yes, I do object to that."

"If you had objected to the lazy Schiller at Mayence, or the

robber's poet Schiller, as he raves at the theatre in Mannheim,

or to the conqueror and destroyer of Germany, Gustavus Adolphus,

whose statue is erected as an insult in a German city, then you

would be right."

"Schiller-worship has its justification," retorted Frank. "They

erect public monuments to the genial spirit of that man, to

remind us of his services to poetry, his aspirations, and his

German patriotism."

"It is praiseworthy to erect monuments to the poet. But do not

talk of Schiller's patriotism, for he had none. But let that

pass; it is not to the point. The question is, whether you

consider it praiseworthy to erect monuments to deserving and

exalted genius?"

{759}

"Without the least hesitation, I say yes. But I see what you are

driving at, doctor. I know the remorseless logic of your

inferences. But you will not catch me in your vise this time. You

wish to infer that the saints far surpassed Schiller in nobility

and greatness of soul, and that honoring them, therefore, is more

reasonable, and more justifiable, than honoring Schiller. I

dispute the greatness of the so-called saints. They were men full

of narrowness and rigorism. They despised the world and their

friends. They carried this contempt to a wonderful extent--to a

renunciation of all the enjoyments of life, to voluntary poverty

and unconditional obedience. But all these are fruits that have

grown on a stunted, morbid tree, and are in opposition to

progress, to industry, and to the enlightened civilization of

modern times. The dark ages might well honor such men, but our

times cannot. Schiller, on the contrary, that genial man, taught

us to love the pleasures of life. By his fine genius and his odes

to pleasure, he frightened away all the spectres of these

enthusiastic views of life. He preached a sound taste and a free,

unconstrained enjoyment of the things of this beautiful earth.

And for this reason precisely, because he inaugurated this new

doctrine, does he deserve monuments in his honor."

"How does it happen then, my friend," said the doctor, in a

cutting tone that was sometimes peculiar to him, "that you do not

take advantage of the modern doctrine of unconstrained enjoyment?

Why have you preserved fresh your youthful vigor, and not

dissipated it at the market of sensual pleasures? Why is your

mode of life so often a reproach to your dissolute friends? Why

do you avoid the resorts of refined pleasures? Why are the

coquettish, vitiated, hollow inclinations of a great part of the

female sex so distasteful to you? Answer me!"

"These are peculiarities of my nature; individual opinions that

have no claim to any weight."

"Peculiarities of your nature--very right; your noble nature,

your pure feelings rebel against these moral acquisitions of

progress. I begin with your noble nature. If I did not find this

good, true self in you, I would waste no more words. But because

you are what you are, I must convince you of the error of your

views. Schiller, you say, and, with him, the modern spirit,

raised the banner of unrestrained enjoyment, and this enjoyment

rests on sensual pleasures, does it not?"

"Well--yes."

"I knew and know many who followed this banner--and you also know

many. Of those whom I knew professionally, some ended their days

in the hospital, of the most loathsome diseases. Some, unsatiated

with the whole round of pleasures, drag on a miserable life, dead

to all energy, and spiritless. They drank the full cup of

pleasure, and with it unspeakable bitterness and disgust. Some

ended in ignominy and shame--bankruptcy, despair, suicide. Such

are the consequences of this modern dogma of unrestrained

enjoyments."

"All these overstepped the proper bounds of pleasure," said

Richard.

"The proper bounds? Stop!" cried the doctor. "No leaps, Richard!

Think clearly and logically. Christianity also allows enjoyment,

but--and here is the point--in certain limits. Your progress, on

the contrary, proclaims freedom in moral principles, a disregard

of all moral obligations, unrestricted enjoyment--and herein

consists the danger and delusion. I ask, Are you in favor of

restricted or unrestricted enjoyment?"

{760}

Frank hesitated. He felt already the thumbscrew of the

irrepressible doctor, and feared the inferences he would draw

from his admissions.

"Come!" urged Klingenberg, "decide."

"Sound reason declares for restricted enjoyment," said Frank

decidedly.

"Good; there you leave the unlimited sphere which godless

progress has given to the thoughts and inclinations of men. You

admit the obligation of self control, and the restraint of the

grosser emotions. But let us proceed; you speak of industry. The

modern spirit of industry has invoked a demon--or, rather, the

demoniac spirit of the times has taken possession of industry.

The great capitalists have built thrones on their money-bags and

tyrannize over those who have no money. They crush out the

work-shop of the industrious and well-to-do tradesman, and compel

him to be their slave. Go into the factories of Elfeld, or

England; you can there see the slaves of this demon

industry--miserable creatures, mentally and morally stunted,

socially perishing; not only slaves, but mere wheels of the

machines. This is what modern industry has made of those poor

wretches, for whom, according to modern enlightenment, there is

no higher destiny than to drag through life in slavery, to

increase the money-bags of their tyrants. But the capitalists

have perfect right, according to modern ideas; they only use the

means at their command. The table of the ten commandments has

been broken; the yoke of Christianity broken. Man is morally and

religiously free; and from this false liberalism the tyranny of

plutocracy and the slavery of the poor has been developed. Are

you satisfied with the development, and the principles that made

it possible?"

"No," said Frank decidedly. "I despise that miserable

industrialism that values the product more than the man. My

admissions are, how ever, far from justifying the exaggerated

notions of the saints."

"Wait a bit!" cried Klingenberg hastily. "I have just indicated

the cause of this wretched egotism, and also a

consequence--namely, the power of great capitalists and

manufacturers over an army of white slaves. But this is by no

means all. This demon of industry has consequences that will ruin

a great portion of mankind. Now mark what I say, Richard! The

richness of the subject allows me only to indicate. The

progressive development of industry brings forth products of

which past ages were ignorant, because they were not necessary

for life. The existence of these products creates a demand. The

increased wants increase the outlay, which in most cases does not

square with the income, and therefore the accounts of many close

with a deficit. The consequences of this deficit for the

happiness, and even for the morals of the family, I leave

untouched. The increased products beget luxury and the desire for

enjoyment; the ultimate consequences of which enervate the

individual and society. Hence the phenomenon, in England, that

the greater portion of the people in the manufacturing towns die

before the age of fifteen, and that many are old men at thirty.

Enervated and demoralized peoples make their existence

impossible. They go to the wall. This is a historical fact. Ergo,

modern industry separated from Christian civilization hastens the

downfall of nations."

{761}

"I cannot dispute the truth of your observations. But you have

touched only the dark side of modern industry, without mentioning

its benefits. If industry is a source of fictitious wants, it

affords, on the other hand, cheap prices to the poor for the most

necessary wants of life; for example, cheap materials for

clothing."

"Very cheap, but also very poor material," answered Klingenberg.

"In former times, clothing was dearer, but also better. They knew

nothing of the rags of the present fabrication. And it may be

asked whether that dearer material was not cheaper in the end for

the poor. When this is taken into consideration, the new material

has no advantage over the old. I will freely admit that the

inventions of modern times do honor to human genius. I

acknowledge the achievements of industry, as such. I admire the

improvements of machinery, the great revolution caused by the use

of steam, and thousands of other wonders of art. No sensible man

will question the relative worth of all these. But all these are

driven and commanded by a bad influence, and herein lies the

injury. We must consider industrialism from this higher

standpoint. What advantage is it to a people to be clothed in

costly stuffs when they are enervated, demoralized, and

perishing? Clothe a corpse as you will, a corpse it will be

still. And besides, the greatest material good does not

compensate the white factory-slaves for the loss of their

liberty. The Lucullan age fell into decay, although they feasted

on young nightingales, drank liquified pearls, and squandered

millions for delicacies and luxuries. The life of nations does

not consist in the external splendor of wealth, in easy comfort,

or in unrestrained passions. Morality is the life of nations, and

virtue their internal strength. But virtue, morality, and

Christian sentiment are under the ban of modern civilization. If

Christianity does not succeed in overcoming this demon spirit of

the times, or at least confining it within narrow limits, it will

and must drive the people to certain destruction. We find decayed

peoples in the Christian era, but the church has always rescued

and regenerated them. While the acquisitions of modern

times--industrialism, enlightenment, humanitarianism, and

whatever they may be called--are, on the one hand, of little

advantage or of doubtful worth, they are, on the other hand, the

graves of true prosperity, liberty, and morality. They are the

cause of shameful terrorism and of degrading slavery, in the

bonds of the passions and in the claws of plutocracy."

Frank made no reply.

For a while they walked on in silence.

"Let us," continued Klingenberg, "consider personally those men

whose molten images stand before us. Schiller's was a noble

nature, but Schiller wrote:

"'No more this fight of duty, hence no longer

This giant strife will I!

Canst quench these passions evermore the stronger?

Then ask not virtue, what I must deny.

"'Albeit I have sworn, yea, sworn that never

Shall yield my master will;

Yet take thy wreath; to me 'tis lost for ever!

Take back thy wreath, and let me sin my fill.'

Is this a noble and exalted way of thinking? Certainly not.

Schiller would be virtuous if he could clothe himself in the

lustre of virtue without sacrifice. The passionate impulses of

the heart are stronger in him than the sense of duty. He gives

way to his passions. He renounces virtue because he is too weak,

too languid, too listless to encounter this giant strife bravely

like a strong man. Such is the noble Schiller. In later years,

when the fiery impulses of his heart had subsided, he roused

himself to better efforts and nobler aims.

{762}

"Consider the prince of poets, Goethe. How morally naked and poor

he stands before us! Goethe's coarse insults to morality are well

known. His better friend, Schiller, wrote of him to Koerner, 'His

mind is not calm enough, because his domestic relations, which he

is too weak to change, cause him great vexation.' Koerner

answered,' Men cannot violate morality with impunity.' Six years

later, the 'noble' Goethe was married to his 'mistress' at

Weimar. Goethe's detestable political principles are well known.

He did not possess a spark of patriotism. He composed hymns of

victory to Napoleon, the tyrant, the destroyer and desolator of

Germany. These are the heroes of modern sentiment, the advance

guard of liberty, morality, and true manhood! And these heroes so

far succeeded that the noble Arndt wrote of his time, 'We are

base, cowardly, and stupid; too poor for love, too listless for

anger, too imbecile for hate. Undertaking every thing,

accomplishing nothing; willing every thing, without the power of

doing any thing.' So far has this boasted freethinking created

disrespect for revealed truth. So far this modern civilization,

which idealizes the passions, leads to mockery of religion and

lets loose the baser passions of man. If they cast these

representatives of the times in bronze, they should stamp on the

foreheads of their statues the words of Arndt:

"'We are base, cowardly, and stupid; too poor for love, too

listless for anger, too imbecile for hate. Undertaking every

thing, accomplishing nothing; willing every thing, without the

power of doing any thing."'

"You are severe, doctor."

"I am not severe. It is the truth."

"How does it happen that a people so weak, feeble, and base could

overthrow the power of the French in the world?"

"That was because the German people were not yet corrupted by

that shallow, unreal, hollow twaddle of the educated classes

about humanity. It was not the princes, not the nobility, who

overthrew Napoleon. It was the German people who did it. When, in

1813, the Germans rose, in hamlet and city, they staked their

property and lives for fatherland. But it was not the enlightened

poets and professors, not modern sentimentality, that raised

their hearts to this great sacrifice; not these who enkindled

this enthusiasm for fatherland. It was the religious element that

did it. The German warriors did not sing Goethe's hymns to

Napoleon, nor the insipid model song of 'Luetzows wilder Jagd,'

as they rushed into battle. They sang religious hymns, they

prayed before the altars. They recognized, in the terrible

judgment on Russia's ice-fields, the avenging hand of God.

Trusting in God, and nerved by religious exaltation, they took up

the sword that had been sharpened by the previous calamities of

war. So the feeble philanthropists could effect nothing. It was

only a religious, healthy, strong people could do that."

"But the saints, doctor! We have wandered from them."

"Not at all! We have thrown some light on inimical shadows; the

light can now shine. The lives of the saints exhibit something

wonderful and remarkable. I have studied them carefully. I have

sought to know their aims and efforts. I discovered that they

imitated the example of Christ, that they realized the exalted

teachings of the Redeemer. You find fault with their contempt for

the things of this world. But it is precisely in this that these

men are great.

{763}

Their object was not the ephemeral, but the enduring. They

considered life but as the entrance to the eternal destiny of

man--in direct opposition to the spirit of the times, that dances

about the golden calf. The saints did not value earthly goods for

more than they were worth. They placed them after self-control

and victory over our baser nature. Exact and punctual in all

their duties, they were animated by an admirable spirit of

charity for their fellow-men. And in this spirit they have

frequently revived society. Consider the great founders of

orders--St. Benedict, St. Dominic, St. Vincent de Paul! Party

spirit, malice, and stupidity have done their worst to blacken,

defame, and calumniate them. And yet, in a spirit of

self-sacrifice, the sons of St. Benedict came among the German

barbarians, to bring to them the ennobling doctrines of

Christianity. It was the Benedictines who cleared the primeval

forests, educated their wild denizens, and founded schools; who

taught the barbarians handiwork and agriculture. Science and

knowledge flourished in the cloisters. And to the monks alone we

are indebted for the preservation of classic literature. What the

monks did then they are doing now. They forsake home, break all

ties, and enter the wilderness, there to be miserably cut off in

the service of their exalted mission, or to die of poisonous

fevers. Name me one of your modern heroes, whose mouths are full

of civilization, humanity, enlightenment--name me one who is

capable of such sacrifice. These prudent gentlemen remain at home

with their gold-bags and their pleasures, and leave the stupid

monk to die in the service of exalted charity. It is the

hypocrisy and the falsehood of the modern spirit to exalt itself,

and belittle true worth. And what did St. Vincent de Paul do?

More than all the gold-bags together. St. Vincent, alone, solved

the social problem of his time. He was, in his time, the

preserver of society, or rather, Christianity through him. And

to-day our gold-bags tremble before the apparition of the same

social problem. Here high-sounding phrases and empty declamation

do not avail. Deeds only are of value. But the inflated spirit of

the times is not capable of noble action. It is not the modern

state--not enlightened society, sunk in egotism and gold--that

can save us. Christianity alone can do it. Social development

will prove this."

"I do not dispute the services of the saints to humanity," said

Frank. "But the question is, Whether society would be benefited

if the fanatical, dark spirit of the middle ages prevailed,

instead of the spirit of modern times?"

"The fanatical, dark spirit of the middle ages!" cried the doctor

indignantly. "This is one of those fallacious phrases. The saints

were not fanatical or dark. They were open, cheerful, natural,

humble men. They did not go about with bowed necks and downcast

eyes; but affable, free from hypocrisy, and dark, sullen

demeanor, they passed through life. Many saints were poets. St.

Francis sang his spiritual hymns to the accompaniment of the

harp. St. Charles played billiards. The holy apostle, St. John,

resting from his labors, amused himself in childish play with a

bird. Such were these men; severe toward themselves, mild to

others, uncompromising with the base and mean. They were all

abstinent and simple, allowing themselves only the necessary

enjoyments. They concealed from observation their severe mode of

life, and smiled while their shoulders bled from the discipline.

Pride, avarice, envy, voluptuouness, and all the bad passions,

were strangers to them; not because they had not the inclinations

to these passions, but because they restrained and overcame their

lower nature.

{764}

"I ask you, now, which men deserve our admiration--those who are

governed by unbounded selfishness, who are slaves to their

passions, who deny themselves no enjoyment, and who boast of

their degrading licentiousness; or those who, by reason of a pure

life, are strong in the government of their passions, and

self-sacrificing in their charity for their fellowmen?"

"The preference cannot be doubtful," said Frank. "For the saints

have accomplished the greatest, they have obtained the highest

thing, self-control. But, doctor, I must condemn that

saint-worship as it is practised now. Human greatness always

remains human, and can make no claims to divine honor."

The doctor swung his arms violently. "What does this reproach

amount to? Where are men deified? In the Catholic Church? I am a

Protestant, but I know that your church condemns the deification

of men."

"Doctor," said Frank, "my religious ignorance deserves this

rebuke."

"I meant no rebuke. I would only give conclusions. Catholicism is

precisely that power that combats with success against the

deifying of men. You have in the course of your studies read the

Roman classics. You know that divine worship was offered to the

Roman emperors. So far did heathen flattery go, that the emperors

were honored as the sons of the highest divinity--Jupiter.

Apotheosis is a fruit of heathen growth; of old heathenism and of

new heathenism. When Voltaire, that idol of modern heathen

worship, was returning to Paris in 1778, he was in all

earnestness promoted to the position of a deity. This remarkable

play took place in the theatre. Voltaire himself went there.

Modern fanaticism so far lost all shame that the people kissed

the horse on which the philosopher rode to the theatre. Voltaire

was scarcely able to press through the crowd of his worshippers.

They touched his clothes--touched handkerchiefs to them--plucked

hairs from his fur coat to preserve as relics. In the theatre

they fell on their knees before him and kissed his feet. Thus

that tendency that calls itself free and enlightened deified a

man--Voltaire, the most trifling scoffer, the most unprincipled,

basest man of Christendom.

"Let us consider an example of our times. Look at Garibaldi in

London. That man permitted himself to be set up and worshipped.

The saints would have turned away from this stupidity with

loathing indignation. But this boundless veneration flattered the

old pirate Garibaldi. He received 267,000 requests for locks of

his hair, to be cased in gold and preserved as relics. Happily he

had not much hair. He should have graciously given them his

moustaches and whiskers."

Frank smiled. Klingenberg's pace increased, and his arms swung

more briskly.

"Such is the man-worship of modern heathenism. This

humanitarianism is ashamed of no absurdity, when it sinks to the

worship of licentiousness and baseness personified."

"The senseless aberrations of modern culture do not excuse saint

worship. And you certainly do not wish to excuse it in that way.

There is, however, a reasonable veneration of human greatness.

Monuments are erected to great men. We behold them and are

reminded of their genius, their services; and there it stops. It

occurs to no reasonable man to venerate these men on his knees,

as is done with the saints."

{765}

"The bending of the knee, according to the teaching of your

church, does not signify adoration, but only veneration," replied

Klingenberg. "Before no Protestant in the world would I bend the

knee; before St. Benedict and St. Vincent de Paul I would

willingly, out of mere admiration and esteem for their greatness

of soul and their purity of morals. If a Catholic kneels before a

saint to ask his prayers, what is there offensive in that? It is

an act of religious conviction. But I will not enter into the

religious question. This you can learn better from your Catholic

brethren--say from the Angel of Salingen, for example, who

appears to have such veneration for the saints."

"You will not enter into the religious question; yet you defend

saint-worship, which is something religious."

"I do not defend it on religious grounds, but from history,

reason, and justice. History teaches that this veneration had,

and still has, the greatest moral influence on human society. The

spirit of veneration consists in imitating the example of the

person venerated. Without this spirit, saint-worship is an idle

ceremony. But that true veneration of the saints elevates and

ennobles, you cannot deny. Let us take the queen of saints, Mary.

What makes her worthy of veneration? Her obedience to the Most

High, her humility, her strength of soul, her chastity. All these

virtues shine out before the spiritual eyes of her worshippers as

models and patterns of life. I know a lady, very beautiful, very

wealthy; but she is also very humble, very pure, for she is a

true worshipper of Mary. Would that our women would venerate Mary

and choose her for a model! There would then be no coquettes, no

immodest women, no enlightened viragoes. Now, as saint-worship is

but taking the virtues of the saints as models for imitation, you

must admit that veneration in this sense has the happiest

consequences to human society."

"I admit it--to my great astonishment, I must admit it," said

Richard.

"Let us take a near example," continued Klingenberg. "I told you

of the singular qualities of Angela. As she passed, I beheld her

with wonder. I must confess her beauty astonished me. But this

astonishing beauty, it appears to me, is less in her charming

features than in the purity, the maidenly dignity of her

character. Perhaps she has to thank, for her excellence, that

same correct taste which leads her to venerate Mary. Would not

Angela make an amiable, modest, dutiful wife and devoted mother?

Can you expect to find this wife, this mother among those given

to fashions--among women filled with modern notions?"

While Klingenberg said this, a deep emotion passed over Richard's

face. He did not answer the question, but let his head sink on

his breast.

"Here is Frankenhöhe," said the doctor. "As you make no more

objections, I suppose you agree with me. The saints are great,

admirable men; therefore they deserve monuments. They are models

of virtue and the greatest benefactors of mankind; therefore they

deserve honor. '_Quod erat demonstrandum_.'"

"I only wonder, doctor, that you, a Protestant, can defend such

views."

"You will allow Protestants to judge reasonably," replied

Klingenberg. "My views are the result of careful study and

impartial reflection."

{766}

"I am also astonished--pardon my candor--that with such views you

can remain a Protestant."

"There is a great difference between knowing and willing, my

young friend. I consider conversion an act of great heroism, and

also as a gift of the highest grace."

Richard wrote in his diary:

"If Angela should be what the doctor considers her! According

to my notions, such a being exists only in the realm of the

ideal. But if Angela yet realizes this ideal? I must be

certain. I will visit Siegwart to-morrow."

To Be Continued.

----------

From The German

The Flight Into Egypt.

Greenwood tent, new splendors wear,

Let thy festal tree-tops glisten;

Stag, come here to look and listen;

For the world's joy draweth near!

Flowers, unclose your lids, that clearer

Light your dew-wet eyes may mirror.

Blossom! blossom!

On her bosom

Lo! the mother bears the Child!

Glad-winged birds, from forest dim,

Hither fly, where peace long-sought is;

Sing melodious jubilates,

With the blessèd cherubim.

Morning airs, come quick! with tender

Thrill breathe on the branches slender;

Breathe and hover!

Rough ways over

Comes the mother with the Child!

Stag, birds, trees, and breezes blest,

Triumph in harmonious numbers--

Fear not to disturb the slumbers

Of the Babe upon her breast.

Gently lull him with your voices,

O'er whom all the world rejoices!

Sing, adore him!

Bend before him!

Hail the mother with the Child!

----------

{767}

Hon. Thomas Dongan, Governor of New York. [Footnote 187]

[Footnote 187: Authorities: O'Callaghan's _Documentary and

Colonial Histories of New York_. Bancroft's _History of

the United States_. Lingard's _History of England_.

Bishop Bayley's _History of the Catholic Church in New

York_. O'Callaghan's _Journal of the Legislature of New

York_, especially a note thereto, by George H. Moore, Esq.

Shea's _History of the Catholic Missions_. Campbell's

_Life and Times of Archbishop Carroll_. DeCourcy and

Shea's _Catholic Church in the United States_, etc.]

The student of Catholic history may be permitted to recall, with

an honorable pride, the illustrious name and recount the eminent

public services of Colonel Thomas Dongan, who, while the only

Catholic, was one of the most able and accomplished, of the

colonial governors of New York. His life and exploits are but

little known, even among Catholics; and while his merits place

him without a superior in the honored list of our governors, it

yet remains, for the Catholic historian especially, to rescue his

fame from obscurity, and to weave together, from scattered

historical fragments, the story of a career at once brilliant and

useful, checkered and romantic. As soldier, ruler, exile,

nobleman, or Christian gentleman, he is equally entitled to a

distinguished place among the remarkable men of his age. His

position was a most difficult and delicate one--a Catholic ruler

over Protestant subjects, at a time when religious rivalries and

animosities formed the mainspring of public and private political

action. It is no small achievement that, in so trying an office,

he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of friend and foe; and

that Protestant and Catholic historians unite in commending his

wise and honorable course. As a patriot, he has won our national

gratitude; for it is to his courage and address that we are

indebted for the invaluable service of having extended the

northern frontier of our republic to the great lakes. His

devotion to civil and religious liberty places his name with that

of Calvert, in the hearts of Catholics; while both should be

hallowed together by all lovers of free government.

The subject of this memoir was descended from a noble and ancient

Irish family, distinguished for an energy of character and

enterprising spirit which he did not allow to expire with his

ancestors. His father was Sir John Dongan, baronet, of

Castletoun, in the county of Kildare, Ireland. He was also nephew

to Richard Talbot, Earl of Tyrconnel, who figured conspicuously

in the reign of Charles II., as he did in that of James II. This

Earl of Tyrconnel, uncle to Governor Dongan, was one of those

against whom Titus Oates informed. He was made

lieutenant-governor of Ireland, and afterward lord deputy, on the

recall of Clarendon, by James II.; and he aimed at rendering

Ireland independent of England, in the event of the Prince of

Orange succeeding in his efforts to gain the throne. In

furtherance of his patriotic designs, Earl Tyrconnel solicited of

James permission to hold an Irish parliament; but that monarch,

suspecting his purpose, rejected the measure.

Thomas Dongan was born in 1634; and, after being well-grounded in

his religion, and in secular learning, was trained to the

profession of a soldier. He entered the military service of

France, and served as colonel of a French regiment, under Louis

XIV.[Footnote 188]

[Footnote 188: We find his name rendered in French documents

as _Colonel D'Unguent_.]

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His services there were so highly prized that it was with great

difficulty and at considerable sacrifice that he was able to

withdraw from it. In 1677-8, after the English parliament had

forced Charles II. to break with Louis XIV., an order was issued

commanding all British subjects in the service of France to

return home. Colonel Dongan obeyed the order of his own

sovereign; and he himself informs us that he was obliged to quit

"that honorable and advantageous post, and resisted the

temptations of greater preferment, then offered him, if he would

continue there; for which reason the French king commanded him to

quit France in forty-eight hours, and refused to pay him a debt

of sixty-five thousand livres, then due him for recruits and

arrears, upon an account stated by the intendant of Nancy." No

subsequent efforts of Colonel Dongan succeeded in appeasing the

French king's resentment, or in securing the payment of his

claim.

On his return from the French service to England, he was

appointed, by Charles II., a general officer in the English army,

then destined for Flanders, and had an annual pension of £500

settled on him for life, in consideration of his losses in

France. But it is regarded as quite certain that he did not go to

Flanders under this appointment, to defend and support the

English garrisons in that country, then menaced by the French;

for, in the same year, he was appointed lieutenant-governor of

Tangier, a position which he accepted, and continued to fill

until the year 1680.

At this time, the American province of New York was under the

proprietary government of James, Duke of York, whose deputy's

administration of the affairs of the colony had produced great

discontent among the people. His governor, Andros, had been

recalled to answer the charges of the people; had returned to New

York, acquitted by the duke, and resumed the imposition of the

heavy system of taxation which had weighed so heavily on the

citizens, and produced such discontent. But the resistance of the

people, not stopping short even of calling in question the

supreme authority of the duke, seconded by the remonstrances of

William Penn, finally had the desired effect. Andros was

recalled, and Colonel Dongan appointed to succeed him as governor

of New York. His commission from the Duke of York, bearing date

September 30th, 1682, contains the following appointing clause:

"And whereas, I have conceived a good opinion of the integrity,

prudence, ability and fittness of Coll. Thomas Dongan, to be

employed as my Lieutent there, I have therefore thought fitt to

constitute and appoint him ye said Coll. Thos to be my Lt and

Govr within ye lands, islands, places aforesaid (except the

said East and West New Jersey) to performe & execute all and

every the powers wch are by the said lettrs pattents granted

unto me to be executed by me, my Deputy, Agent or Assignes."

The written instructions received by the new governor from the

Duke of York, bearing date January 27th, 1683, direct him: First,

to call together the council of the duke, consisting of

Fredericke Phillipps, Stephen Courtland, and other eminent

inhabitants, not exceeding ten councillors. Second, and most

important of all, to issue warrants to the sheriffs of the

counties for an election of a general assembly of all the

freeholders of the province, to pass laws "for the good weale and

government of the said Colony and its Dependencyes, and of all

inhabitants thereof."

{769}

The assembly was not to exceed eighteen members, and was to

assemble in the city of New York. Third, to give or withhold his

assent to such laws as the general assembly might pass, as he

might approve or disapprove of the same, etc. Fourth, the laws so

passed to be permanent. Fifth, "And I doe hereby require and

command you yt noe man's life, member, freehold, or goods, be

taken away or harmed in any of the places undr yor government but

by established and knowne laws not repugnant to, but as nigh as

may be agreable to the laws of the kingdome of England." Sixth,

to repress "drunkennesse and debauchery, swearing and blasphemy,"

and to appoint none to office who may be given to such vices; and

to encourage commerce and merchants. Seventh, to exercise general

discretionary powers, except that of declaring war, without the

duke's consent. The eighth relates to assessment of the estates

of persons capable of serving as jurors. Ninth, to establish

courts of justice, and to sell the royal lands. Tenth, to pardon

offences. Eleventh, to erect custom-houses and other public

buildings. Twelfth, to organize the militia. Thirteenth, to

settle the boundaries of the province. Fourteenth, to encourage

planters, and to lay no tax on commerce, except according to

established laws. Fifteenth, to purchase Indian lands. Sixteenth

relates to the granting of a liberal charter to the city of New

York. Seventeenth, to send reports, by every ship, of the

progress of the colony, and to regulate internal trade; and

eighteenth, to devote his life, time, etc., to the faithful

discharge of his duties.

The admirable document of which the foregoing is a brief

synopsis, containing as it does the general principles of all

good government, was, no doubt, designed to meet the former evils

complained of by the people of New York. That the influence of

Colonel Dongan, during the eight months or so that he remained in

England between his appointment and departure for New York, was

wholesomely exerted in impressing a liberal and enlightened

character upon the policy and instructions of the home

government, cannot be doubted. No one was better fitted by

experience, good judgment, and inclination, for such a task. The

document itself, the most just and liberal that ever emanated

from an English sovereign, goes far to vindicate the name and

character of James II.

The new governor arrived at New York on the 25th of August, 1683,

and entered upon the duties of his office--duties rendered more

delicate and embarrassing by the excitement through which the

community had just passed, the high and extravagant expectations

built upon a new appointment, made with the view of remedying old

complaints, and by the fact that he himself was a professed and

zealous Catholic, while the community whose destinies he was

commissioned to guide were almost without exception Protestants,

and peculiarly inclined, at that time, to look with distrust and

hatred upon all "Papists." That such was the case, we are told by

all the historians of the state and city; but that, by his

address, good government, and enlightened policy, Governor Dongan

soon removed this difficulty, we have the same authority for

asserting. Smith says of him, "He was a man of integrity,

moderation, and genteel manners, and, though a professed papist,

may be classed among the best of our governors;" and adds "that

he surpassed all his predecessors in a due attention to our

affairs with the Indians, by whom he was highly esteemed."

{770}

Valentine writes, that "he was a Roman Catholic in his religious

tenets, which was the occasion of much remark on the part of the

Protestant inhabitants of the colony. His personal character was

in other respects not objectionable to the people, and he is

described as a man of integrity, moderation, and genteel manners,

and as being among the best of the governors who had been placed

in charge of this province." And Booth also writes of him, "He

was of the Roman Catholic faith, a fact which rendered him, at

first, obnoxious to many; but his firm and judicious policy, his

steadfast integrity, and his pleasing and courteous address, soon

won the affections of the people, and made him one of the most

popular of the royal governors." Colden, in his history of the

Five Nations, calls him an "honest gentleman," and "an active and

prudent governor."

The governor at once organized his council, which, as well from

necessity as from prudent policy, was composed of gentlemen of

the Dutch Reformed and English churches. Regarding his functions

as purely civil, he did not, in the government of the colonists,

who were Protestants, advance his views upon subjects not

connected with civil government offensively before them, as they

feared he would do. He might have induced over from the old

country members of his own church to form his council; but

neither duty nor prudence recommended this measure. Catholics,

however, were no longer excluded from office, nor from the

practice of their religion. The governor had a chapel, in which

himself, his suite, his servants, and all the Catholics of the

province, could attend divine service according to their own

creed. A Jesuit father, who accompanied him from England, was his

chaplain.

He proceeded at once, according to his instructions, to issue his

warrants for the election of a general assembly. This was an

auspicious beginning of his administration, as it was a

concession from the Duke of York for which the people had long

struggled. This illustrious body, consisting of the governor, ten

councillors, and seventeen representatives elected by the people,

assembled in the city of New York, on the 17th of October, 1683.

As he was the first, so he was the most liberal and friendly

royal governor, that presided over the popular legislatures of

New York; and the contests between arbitrary power and popular

rights, which distinguished the administration of future

governors, down to the Revolution, did not have their origin

under his administration. The first act of the general assembly

was the framing of a charter of liberties--the first guaranty of

popular government in the province; and Governor Dongan, as he

was the first governor to sign the charter of civil and religious

liberty in New York, was, not many years afterward, the first

citizen persecuted for his religion after its adoption. This

noble charter ordained,

"That supreme legislative power should for ever reside in the

governor, council, and people, met in general assembly; that

every freeholder and freeman might vote for representatives

without restraint; that no freeman should suffer but by the

judgment of his peers, and that all trials should be by a jury

of twelve men; that no tax should be assessed, on any pretext

whatever, but by the consent of the assembly; that no seaman or

soldier should be quartered on the inhabitants against their

will; that no martial law should exist; that no person,

professing faith in God, by Jesus Christ, should, at any time,

be in any way disquieted or questioned for any difference of

opinion in matters of religion."

{771}

It was provided that the general assemblies were to convene at

least triennially; new police regulations were established;

Sunday laws were enacted; tavern-keepers were prohibited from

selling liquor except to travellers; children were prohibited

from playing in the street, citizens from working, and Indians

and negroes from assembling, on the Sabbath; twenty cartmen were

licensed, on condition that they should repair the highways

gratis, when called on by the mayor, and cart the dirt from the

streets beyond the limits of the city. The inhabitants were

required to sweep the dirt of the streets together every Saturday

afternoon, preparatory to its removal by the cartmen. On the 8th

of December, 1683, the city was divided into six wards, each of

which was entitled to elect an alderman and councilman annually,

to represent them in the government of the city. The appointment

of the mayor was reserved to the governor and council, and was

not made elective by the people until after the American

Revolution.

In 1685, on the death of Charles, the Duke of York succeeded to

the English crown, under the title of James II. Governor Dongan,

by special orders from the home government, proclaimed King James

throughout the province. Indian and French disturbances having

ceased, all was now quiet along the northern frontier, and the

governor, skilfully availing himself of the opportunity, caused

the king's arms to be put upon all the Indian castles along the

Great Lake, and they, he writes to Secretary Blathwayt, submitted

willingly to the king's government. In 1686, Governor Dongan

received a new commission, bearing date on the 10th of June of

that year. This was a very different document from his first

commission, and manifests the change in favor of arbitrary power

which took place in the sentiments and policy of James on his

accession to the throne. The general assembly was abolished and

the legislative power was vested in the governor and council,

subject to the approval of the king; they were also authorized to

proclaim and enforce martial law, to impose taxes, etc. It has

been erroneously stated by one of our historians that James, in

this document, instructed Governor Dongan "to favor the

introduction of the Roman Catholic religion into the province--a

course of policy which the governor, himself a Catholic, was

reluctant to adopt;" whereas, the only provision therein relating

to religion is in these words:

"And wee doe, by these presents, will, require, and command you

to take all possible care for the Discountenance of Vice and

encouragement of Virtue and good-living, that by such example

the Infidels may bee invited and desired to partake of the

Christian Religion."

According to this commission, the general assembly was dissolved

on the 6th of August, 1685, and no other was convened during the

reign of James. Notwithstanding this radical change in the

organic law of the province, the mild, liberal, and judicious

administration of the governor caused the exercise of arbitrary

power to be but lightly felt by the people.

In 1686, Governor Dongan signalized his administration by

granting, in the name and by the authority of the king, the

celebrated charter of the city of New York known as the _Dongan

Charter_, bearing date the 22d of April of that year. This

document constitutes to this day the basis and foundation of the

municipal laws, rights, privileges, public property, and

franchises of the city. It was confirmed and renewed by Governor

Montgomery, on the 15th day of January, 1730, in the reign of

George II.

{772}

This charter was granted on the petition of the mayor and common

council of the city of New York, addressed "To the Right

Honorable Colln. Dongan, Esqr., Lieutennant & Governor & Vice

Admirall under his Royall Highness, James Duke of York and

Albany, &c., of New York and Dependencyes in America." In this

petition are recited the ancient privileges and incorporation of

the city, and especially the fact that the whole island of

Manhattan had been made a part of the corporation, and all the

inhabitants thereof were subject to the government of the city;

and praying a re-grant and confirmation of the same, and of all

their ancient rights and privileges. The charter itself confirms

all the ancient franchises and grants to the city, and confers

many new ones upon it; it grants to the city the waste or

unappropriated lands on the island, and concedes the right of

local or municipal legislation, the ferries, markets, docks,

etc., and covers thoroughly the whole ground of municipal

government. It would seem, from an endorsement made on the

petition in the office of the home government, by the secretary

through whose hands it passed, that the new charter should be

granted on the express condition that the old charter be

surrendered; "otherwise, they may keep all their Old Priviledges

by virtue of that, and take ye additions by this new one, without

Subjecting their Officers, &c., to the approbation & Refusall,

&c., of ye governors."

Among other public measures and acts of Governor Dongan may be

mentioned, that he proposed to the home government the

establishment of post-offices, or "post-houses," as they were

called, all along the Atlantic coast within the English

dominions, and the establishment of a mint. French Protestants,

resorting to the colony for trade or business of any kind, were

not to be molested. The fort was supported for one year at his

private expense, during the insufficiency of the public revenue

under Collector Santen. He obtained a release from the Ranseleers

to the lands in Albany, and then granted a charter to that town;

and he endeavored to bring about the union of New Jersey and

Connecticut, under one and the same government with New York, as

a measure of public safety and strength. In 1686, the governor's

salary was raised from £400 to £600 per annum. The governor's

residence was at the fort, and there was attached to the office

the products or rents of a farm, called, at various times, the

governor's, duke's, or king's farm, and of another smaller piece

of land, called the queen's garden, which were subsequently

granted to and remain to this day the property of the corporation

of Trinity Church. It may also be mentioned, as an evidence of

Governor Dongan's popularity, that there is to be found, in a

list of the titles of acts passed by the general assembly in

1684, the following title, "A Bill for a present to the

Governor."

We are told by the historians that "considerable improvements

were made in the city in Governor Dongan's time." [Footnote 189]

[Footnote 189: Valentine.]

The city wall, erected in 1653, on the present line of Wall

street, which derived its name from this circumstance, ran

through the farm of Jan Jansen Damen; and from Broadway to Pearl

street, the lands north of the wall were, in Governor Dongan's

time, in possession of Damen's heirs, who were now induced to

part with the same, so that the wall was removed and these

valuable lots brought at once into the market, and were soon

improved.

{773}

Afterward, Governor Dongan determined still further to enlarge

the city, to demolish the old fortifications, which were in a

state of decay, and to erect new defences further out. Wall

street was laid out on the site of the old city wall. "The street

was afterwards favored by the erection of the city hall on the

site of the present custom-house, and of Trinity Church, facing

its westerly extremity, and soon became one of principal streets

of the city." In 1687, a new street was laid out between

Whitehall street and Old Slip, and the corporation sold the lots

on condition that the purchasers should build the street out

toward the water and protect it against the washing of the tide.

These improvements were not carried into effect until several

years afterward. This is the present Water street. In the second

year of Governor Dongan's administration, 1684, the vessels of

New York consisted of three barques, three brigantines,

twenty-six sloops, and forty-six open boats; facts which convey

some notion of the commerce and prosperity of New York at that

time.

Governor Dongan manifested great activity and energy in the

conduct of public affairs. His report on the condition of the

colony is a document replete with intelligence, vigor, and

practical experience, and shows that no part of the colony,

however remote, escaped his attention and care; and no branch of

the public service was neglected by him. Mr. Santen, the

collector of the port, became a defaulter to the amount of £3000,

and was the occasion of great embarrassment and loss to Governor

Dongan, who, however, on his part, acted promptly in the

premises, by seizing the books of the delinquent official,

causing him to be arrested and brought before the council for

trial, and, on his proving refractory, sending him to England.

While in England, the displaced collector preferred charges

against Governor Dongan, who defended himself in that able and

conclusive document, or report, on the condition of the colony,

addressed to the lords of the home government, to which allusion

has just been made. The following extract will show how

characteristically he defended himself against one of Mr.

Santen's charges:

"To the Tenth: Concerning my Covetousness, as hee is pleased to

term it. Here, (if Mr. Santen speaks true, in saying I have

been covetous,) it was in the management of this small Revenue

to the best advantage, and had Mr. Santen been as just as I

have been careful, the King had not been in debt, and I had

more in my pocket than now I have."

This document also shows how active Governor Dongan was to secure

the beaver and other Indian trade for the province; his zeal

would not stop short of confining the French to the other side of

the great lakes, and William Penn and his people south of a line

drawn from a point on the Delaware "to the falls in the

Susquehanna." [Footnote 190]

[Footnote 190: Wyalusing Falls, Bradford County,

Pennsylvania.]

The report is also full of valuable suggestions on the future as

well as the past and present government of the province, and

contains valuable statistics relating to the courts of justice,

the public revenues, trade and commerce, population, the Indians,

shipping, agriculture, and every other public interest.

Governor Dongan distinguished his administration in an especial

manner by his attention to the relations and interests of the

province connected with the Indian tribes within and adjoining

it; and he is admitted by historians to have surpassed all his

predecessors in this department of public affairs, and to have

been held in the greatest esteem by the Indians themselves.

{774}

While seeking their alliance, their trade, and their submission

to his government, he ever treated them with frankness,

generosity, and true friendship. The grateful savages always

addressed him by the friendly name of "Corlear;" [Footnote 191]

"and the name of 'Dongan, the white father,' was remembered in

the Indian lodges long after it had grown indifferent to his

countrymen at Manhattan." His master-stroke of Indian policy was

in gaining the alliance of the Five Nations, securing their

submission to the English government in preference to that of

France, and carrying our northern frontier to the great lakes.

[Footnote 191: This was the name of one of the old Dutch

inhabitants, who had conferred a great boon upon the Indians,

and by his timely intervention saved a large number of them

from a contemplated massacre in one of their wars. Whenever

afterward they wished to address a person in terms of strong

attachment and confidence, they called him "_Corlear_."]

The Five Nations were a confederacy of the five most powerful

Indian tribes of the north: the Mohawks, the Oneidas, the

Onondagas, the Cayugas, and the Senecas. They were usually

called, by the French, by the name of "Iroquois." Their

confederation dates back beyond the limits of their history, as

known to the white race; and both, like that of other nations in

their origin, are only known to us through dim traditions and

fabulous exaggerations. They were united when the French came to

Canada; for we are told, that, "when Champlain arrived in Canada,

he found them united in a war against the Adirondacks, or

Algonquins; and, as he settled in the country of the latter, he

accompanied them in one of their hostile incursions, and, by the

assistance of the French, a body of the Five Nations was

defeated." They long felt a resentment for this act of hostility,

although they received missionaries from the French, and, in a

great measure, embraced the Christian faith. On the arrival of

the Dutch, a trade sprang up between the inhabitants of New

Amsterdam and the Indians of the Five Nations; and the latter, by

exchanging their furs for fire-arms, became more powerful and

more terrible to their enemies. It does not seem that the Dutch

government laid any claim to their country, or to their

allegiance; though Governor Dongan, in his controversy with the

French, claimed that his pretensions were based upon a Dutch

title. Their form of government was federal, like our own. Each

nation had its own separate government, for the regulation of

their local and individual affairs, and a general government in

all things relating to their common interests. They were the most

powerful, the most permanent, and the most capable Indian

organization in America. Like the Romans, they incorporated the

nations they conquered into the confederacy, with equal rights;

or, if this were impracticable, they destroyed their enemies

entirely. Such was their power that they exacted tribute from

neighboring tribes. In 1715, the Tuscaroras of North Carolina

were aggregated to the original confederacy, which was thereafter

known by the name of the Six Nations.

Governor Dongan soon perceived the importance of securing the

friendship and alliance of these powerful and warlike tribes. The

Dutch had made a treaty of peace with the Five Nations, which had

never been openly broken; but as it was necessary to keep

treaties with the Indians constantly renewed, in order to prevent

them from being forgotten; and, as the Indians had considered

themselves, on several occasions, slighted by the English

governors, they had more than once invaded the territories of the

latter.

{775}

The French in Canada, as the first Europeans who had visited

their country, claimed it and the allegiance of the tribes.

French missionaries, men of heroic self-sacrifice and profound

piety, were among them, preaching the Gospel, receiving their

confessions of faith, offering up the Christian sacrifice in

their midst, and doing all in their power to improve their

temporal and spiritual condition. It was natural, it was probably

necessary, that these pious missionaries should bring their

flocks in contact with their own government; and, while their

mission and holy office among the Indians were utterly divested

of all political or worldly motives, they could not avoid being

powerful instruments, with the French government, in securing the

advancement of French interests among those nations. Governor

Dongan, on the other hand, had by his kindness and frankness

completely gained their confidence, and was succeeding well in

cementing the relations between himself and the Five Nations. He

soon discovered the presence of the French missionaries in their

midst an obstacle to this policy; and, at the same time, as a

Catholic, he felt a profound interest in their religious

enlightenment, and in their adherence to the church of which he

was himself a devoted member. To avoid the conflict which might

arise between the duty he owed, on the one hand, to his church

and his conscience, and, on the other, to his king, he resolved

on the plan of insisting upon his claim to the allegiance of the

Five Nations, claiming the country to the great lakes, and upon

the withdrawal of the French missionaries, and the substitution

of English Jesuit missionaries in their place. Though receiving

little encouragement from the home government in these measures,

Governor Dongan carried them so far into effect as to secure the

withdrawal of the French missionaries from three of the Five

Nations, and to obtain the services of English Jesuits at New

York, destined for the Indian missions, in the place of French

priests. Father Harrison arrived in New York in 1685, and Father

Gage arrived there in 1686. But, in consequence of their

ignorance of the Indian language, they were compelled to remain

in the city while studying it and preparing for the mission. War,

too, soon rendered the field of their missionary zeal and labor

inaccessible to them, and the sequel of events shows that it was

neither their own nor the good fortune of the Indians that they

should ever reach it. A Catholic writer [Footnote 192] thus

alludes to Governor Dongan's position on this, to him, delicate

subject:

"There can be no doubt that Governor Dongan, on coming among

the New Yorkers, found that if the measures for converting the

Indians were to proceed, the political interests of his own

country required that English missionaries should take the

place of the French Jesuits, some of whom were incorporated

among the Five Nations. The historians of New York assert that

no previous governor had made himself so well acquainted with

Indian affairs, or conducted the intercourse between the

settlers and Indians with so much ability and regard to the

interests of the subjects of Great Britain; while, at the same

time, he was held in high esteem by the Indians themselves. And

it is mentioned, to his honor, by the same historians, who are

unsparing in their condemnation of his religion, that he did

not permit the identity of his faith with that of the Catholic

missionaries of France to prevent him from opposing their

residence among the Indian tribes in his province; their

influence being calculated to promote the interests and policy

of France, and weaken the authority of the English. But it was

loyalty to his own government, and a just regard for the

interests confided to him, and not indifference to the pious

work of Christianizing the Indians, that induced Governor

Dongan to oppose the missions of the French."

[Footnote 192: Campbell's _Life and Times of Archbishop

Carroll_.]

{776}

Another Catholic author [Footnote 193] thus writes on the same

subject:

[Footnote 193: Shea's _Hist. Cath. Missions_.]

"The English colony of New York had now passed under the sway

of Colonel Dongan, one of the most enterprising and active

governors that ever controlled the destinies of any of the

English provinces. His short but vigorous administration showed

that he was not only thoroughly acquainted with the interests

of England, but able to carry them out. A Catholic, who had

served in the French armies, he was biassed neither by his

religion nor his former services in the duties of the station

now devolved upon him. ... Claiming for England all the country

south of the great lakes, he it was who made them a boundary.

His first step was to extend the power of New York over the

five Iroquois cantons, and bind those warlike tribes to the

English interest. His next, to recall the Caughnawagas to their

ancient home, by promises of a new location on the plains of

Saratoga, where a church should be built for them, and an

English Jesuit stationed as their missionary. In this plan he

found his efforts thwarted by the missionaries, who, French by

birth and attachment, looked with suspicion on the growing

English influence in the cantons, as fatal to the missions

which had cost so much toil, and who relied little on Dongan's

fair words, and subsequent promise to replace them by English

members of their society."

The same author, in another work, expresses his confidence in the

sincerity of Governor Dongan's intentions and promises, and

points to the three English Jesuits brought to New York by him,

as proof of both. [Footnote 194]

[Footnote 194: _New York Doc. Hist._ Letter of Mr. Shea,

iii. 110.]

The French government of Canada was equally bent on reducing the

Five Nations to subjection to the king of France. It required no

serious pretexts to induce the French to carry their plans into

effect by open war; and pretexts were not long wanting. The

murder of a Seneca chief at Mackinaw; an attack by the Iroquois

on a French post in Illinois; the seizure of a flotilla--fanned

the embers of war into a flame, and the subjugation of the Five

Nations seemed to be at hand. A large Canadian army was organized

for this purpose. It is said by historians, and with probable

truth, that the French king had remonstrated with James II.

against Colonel Dongan's interference with the French missions,

and that James had instructed his governor to desist from this

policy; also, that James, on hearing of the designs of the

Canadians on the Five Nations, supposing that these warlike and

refractory tribes, either as subjects or enemies, would be always

a thorn in the side of his province, while within its limits,

ordered Colonel Dongan not to interfere with those designs. But

Colonel Dongan entertained very different views on these

subjects. Not only did he insist on replacing the French Jesuits

with English members of the same society, but he also proposed,

both to the home government and to the governors of Maryland and

Virginia, that these two provinces should unite with New York in

resisting the encroachments of the French. He also proposed to

the home government a plan of emigration from Ireland to New

York, and that one of his own nephews should be appointed to

conduct and manage the enterprise. He wrote to the home

government on this subject as follows:

"It will be very necessary to send over men to build those

forts [the proposed forts along the northern frontier.] ... My

lord, there are people enough in Ireland, who had pretences to

estates there, and are of no advantage to the country, and may

live here very happy. I do not doubt, if his majesty think fit

to employ my nephew, he will bring over as many as the king

will find convenient to send, who will be no charge to his

majesty after they are landed."

{777}

Governor Dongan, notwithstanding his instructions to the

contrary, "was far too honorable to see his allies, (the Five

Nations,) murdered in cold blood, in obedience to the will of his

superiors." He sent his messengers to warn the Iroquois of the

impending danger, and invited them to meet him at Albany, to

renew the old treaty of peace, which had been long ago made

between them and the Dutch, and which had almost faded from the

memories of the chiefs.

Both met punctually at the appointed rendezvous; and Colonel

Dongan made one of his most characteristic and effective speeches

to them, in which he explained his claims upon them, demonstrated

the hostility of the French and his own friendship for them, made

promises of future aid, and proposed an alliance. The treaty here

entered into "was long respected by both parties." The clouds of

war now burst upon the Five Nations, but found them not

unprepared. Two invasions of the French were repelled, and

finally the invaders, weakened by sickness and unacquainted with

the Indian modes of war, returned with scattered ranks to their

own country, to await the terrible retaliation of an injured foe.

The warriors of the Five Nations burst with fury on the Canadian

settlements, "burning, ravaging, and slaying without mercy, until

they had nearly exterminated the French from the territory. The

war continued until, of all the French colonies, Quebec,

Montreal, and Three Rivers alone remained, and the French

dominion in America was almost annihilated; Governor Dongan

remaining," says the historian, "a firm friend of the Indians

during his administration, aiding them by his council, and doing

them every good office in his power." [Footnote 195]

[Footnote 195: Booth's _History of the City of New

York_.]

By his bold and independent course, so much at variance with the

views of his royal master, Governor Dongan incurred the

displeasure of James II., who suspended him from his functions,

and about April, 1688, the governor resigned his office. The

functions of the office of governor then devolved upon the

deputy-governor, Nicholson. Smith, the historian, says of

Dongan's removal from the office which he had graced so well, and

in which he had done so much for the good of his king and his

fellow-citizens, that "he fell into the king's displeasure

through his zeal for the true interest of the province."

The voluminous correspondence between Governor Dongan and Mons.

Denonville, governor of Canada, on the relations of the two rival

English and French colonies, published in the _Colonial_ and

_Documentary_ histories of New York, is replete with

interest, as containing valuable information concerning the

affairs of the day, and as fairly illustrating the character of

our governor. Though frequently running into bitter personalities

and irreconcilable conflict, the letters of these two officials

were not devoid of personal courtesies and amenities. Thus, we

see the French governor acting as a mediator with his sovereign

in behalf of Governor Dongan, in order that he might recover his

claim for services rendered in the French army; and we find

Governor Dongan, at one time, regretting that distance prevented

him from meeting and interchanging social civilities with his

rival; and, at another, sending to the Canadian governor a

present of oranges, which, he had heard, were a great rarity in

Canada, and regretting that the messenger's want of "carriage"

prevented him from sending more.

{778}

There was one point, however, upon which Governor Dongan was ever

uncompromising; this was his determination to claim the great

lakes as his boundary, and to submit to nothing short of this. He

carried his point even in his own day; for the royal arms of

England were emblazoned on the Indian castles along that border,

English forts defended it, and the Five Nations recognized the

king of England as their father. Though wars intervened, this

boundary was afterward recognized, by solemn treaty, as the line

dividing the English and French dominions in our day, the visitor

to the great lakes, and the tourist at the falls of Niagara, sees

the American flag floating where Governor Dongan planted its

predecessor, the standard of our English ancestors. Then,

"Proudly hath it floated

Through the battles of the sea,

When the red-cross flag o'er smoke-wreaths played

Like the lightning in its glee."

_Hemans_.

Now,

"When Freedom from her mountain height

Unfurled her standard to the air,

She tore the azure robe of night,

And set her stars of glory there."

_Drake_.

After his retirement from office, Governor Dongan spent his time

in New York and on Staten Island, in both of which places he had

acquired some property, but resided mostly on his estate on

Staten Island. He was offered the commission of a major-general

in the British army, and the command of a regiment in the service

of James II., all of which he declined to accept.

From the time that James II. ascended the English throne,

discontents began to arise among his Protestant subjects, on both

sides of the ocean, at the transfer of power from the Protestants

to the Catholics. The appointment of Governor Dongan, "a

professed papist," was offensive at first to the people of the

province of New York; but his upright administration, his

devotion to the best interests of the colony, and his personal

popularity, quelled all actual disturbance during his term of

office. We have seen that, soon after his arrival, civil and

religious liberty were guaranteed, and that he selected the

council from members of the Dutch Reformed Church, in order to

disarm all prejudices. He certainly was not disposed, however, to

debar himself and his fellow-Catholic subjects from the enjoyment

of that religious liberty which he had done so much to secure for

others. He had been accompanied to New York, in 1683, by Father

Thomas Harvey, S.J., who performed the divine services in the

governor's chapel, in the fort, and attended to the spiritual

wants of the governor, and of such Catholics as were in New York

during his administration. Fathers Harrison and Gage were sent

for, and arrived in New York afterward, with the view of

superseding the French missionaries among the Indians. It does

not appear that large numbers of Catholics emigrated to New York,

during his administration, for his plan for encouraging

emigration from Ireland was not carried into effect; yet it is

reasonable to suppose that the number of Catholics increased

somewhat under the favorable auspices of a Catholic governor.

And, although Matthias Plowman, the successor to Mr. Santer, the

late collector, was a Catholic, we do not find that Governor

Dongan filled many of the public offices in his gift with

Catholics. Mr. Nicholson, the deputy-governor, into whose hands

Governor Dongan resigned his office, was not appointed by him,

but was the deputy of Governor Andros, who had been appointed by

the home government governor of New England and New York, and

whose headquarters were at Boston; this Mr. Nicholson was said to

have been "an adherent of the Catholic faith." Religious

controversies ran high, however, during this period, and

historians generally inform us that plots were formed by the

Protestants, not only in England, under James, but also in the

province of New York, under Governor Dongan.

{779}

This seems probable from the readiness with which the people on

both sides of the Atlantic rose on their Catholic rulers as soon

as the opportunity presented itself. This opportunity was

afforded not long after Governor Dongan's retirement from office,

in 1689, on the invasion of England by William Prince of Orange,

and the abdication and flight of James II. from England.

The tone of public sentiment in New York in 1689 is thus

described by Bishop Bayley, in his treatise on the _History of

the Catholic Church on the Island of New York:_

"Smith, describing the disposition and temper of the

inhabitants of the colony at the time, shows that,

notwithstanding the personal popularity of the governor, the

increase of Catholics was looked upon with a suspicious eye. 'A

general disaffection,' he says,'to the government prevailed

among the people. Papists began to settle in the colony under

the smiles of the governor. The collector of the revenues and

several principal officers threw off the mask, and openly

avowed their attachment to the doctrines of Rome. A Latin

school was set up, and the teacher strongly suspected for a

Jesuit; in a word, the whole body of the people trembled for

the Protestant cause.' The news of the revolution in England,

and the subsequent proceedings under Leisler, probably caused

such Catholics as were in a situation to get away, to withdraw

at the same time with the governor. The documents connected

with Leisler's usurpation of authority, as published by

O'Callaghan in his _Documentary History of New York_, show

how studiously he appealed to the religious prejudices of the

people, in order to excite odium against the friends of the

late governor, and establish his own claims. The 'security of

the Protestant religion,' and the 'diabolical designs of the

wicked and cruel papists,' are made to ring their changes

through his various proclamations and letters. Depositions and

affidavits were published, in which it was sworn that

Lieutenant-Governor Nicholson had been several times seen

assisting at mass; that the papists on Staten Island 'did

threaten to cut the inhabitants' throats,' and to come and burn

the city; 'that M. De La Prearie had arms in his house for

fifty men; that eighty or a hundred men were coming from Boston

and other places, that were hunted away, (no doubt, not for

their goodness,) and that there were several of them Irish and

papists; that a good part of the soldiers that were in the fort

already were papists,' etc. Among other depositions, is one of

Andries and Jan Meyer, in which they declare that, 'being

delivered from a papist governor, Thomas Dongan, they thought

that the deputy-governor in the Fort would defend and establish

the true religion; but we found to the contrary. There was a

cry that all the images erected by Col. Thomas Dongan in the

fort would be broken down and taken away; but when we were

working in the fort with others, it was commanded, after the

departure of Sir Edmond Andros, by said Nicholson, to help the

priest, John Smith,' (supposed to be a name assumed for the

sake of safety by one of the Jesuit fathers of New York,) 'to

remove, for which we were very glad; but it was soon done,

because said removal was not far off, but in a better room in

the fort; and ordered to make all things ready for said priest,

according to his will, and perfectly, and to erect all things

as he ordered, from that time,'" etc.

Mr. Graham says of the state of public feeling prevailing at this

time in New York, that

"An outrageous dread of popery had invaded the minds of the

lower classes of the people, and not only diminished real and

substantial evils in their esteem, but nearly extinguished

common sense in their understandings, and common justice in

their sentiments."

Deputy-Governor Nicholson took possession of the government in

August, 1688. On the 24th of that month, Governor Andros issued a

proclamation for a general thanksgiving throughout the English

provinces for the birth of a prince, the son of King James, and

heir to the English throne. But by the next mail news of quite a

different character arrived: the invasion of England by the

Prince of Orange, the flocking of the people to his standard, the

abdication and flight of King James, and the proclamation of

William and Mary as king and queen of England.

{780}

Mr. Nicholson and his followers recognized the authority of

William and Mary, and, claiming that the commissions issued under

James II. still held good, proposed to exercised the functions of

the public offices under them, until instructions should be

received from the new government at home. They were supported by

the more respectable and wealthy part of the citizens. But the

popular party took the opposite ground, and contended that all

the commissions were now invalid, and that the people should take

the government into their own hands until the will of their

present majesties should be heard from. They were led on by one

Jacob Leisler, a successful merchant, but a bitter bigot and

ambitious demagogue, and the leader of such as refused all social

intercourse with Catholics. Leisler had been appointed as early

as 1683, by Governor Dongan, commissioner of the Admiralty; but,

while holding this office, he was deeply disaffected, and had

previously gained some notoriety by his opposition to Rensselaer,

an Episcopal minister and suspected papist, at Albany, who had

been sent to the province by the Duke of York.

The revolution commenced in New York by the refusal of Leisler

and others to pay revenue and taxes to Mr. Plowman, the

collector, because he was a Catholic. The people of Long Island

deposed their magistrates and elected new ones, and despatched a

large body of militia to New York, "to seize the fort, and keep

off popery, French invasion, and slavery." The public money,

amounting to £773 12s., had been deposited, for safe keeping, in

the fort which was garrisoned by a few soldiers commanded by a

Catholic ensign. In order to secure this treasure, the popular

party assembled on the 2d of June, 1689, and seized the fort.

Leisler, who had refused to lead them to attack, on hearing of

its seizure, went, with forty-seven men, to the fort, was

welcomed by the citizens, and acknowledged as their leader. At a

meeting of the people, a so-called "Committee of Safety" was

appointed for the immediate government of the province, and

Leisler was appointed to the chief command. Then followed the

reign of terror described by Smith, Graham, and other historians.

Catholics were hunted down in every direction, and many

Protestants, suspected of being "papists" at heart, were treated

in the same manner. Orders were issued for the arrest of Governor

Dongan--who, since his retirement from office, had been quietly

residing on his estate at Staten Island--and all other Catholics,

who were compelled to fly for safety. Governor Dongan and other

Catholics took shelter on board of a vessel in the harbor, where

they remained for weeks, during the height of the excitement. He

probably was obliged to keep himself concealed. He fled to Rhode

Island, and soon afterward returned to Staten Island; his

servants were arrested, his personal effects--charged, in the

frenzy of the hour, to embrace a number of arms--were seized at

his mill on Staten Island; and all who pretended to hold

commissions under him were ordered to be arrested. So effectually

were the Catholics driven from the province that, in 1696, seven

years afterward, on a census of Catholics, taken by the mayor of

the city by order of Governor Fletcher, only nine names were

returned, namely, Major Anthony Brockholes, William Douglass,

John Cooley, Christiane Lawrence, Thomas Howarding, John

Cavalier, John Patte, John Fenny, and Philip Cunningham.

{781}

Whether Governor Dongan returned to England, and again came out

to the province after the excitement had abated, or remained

concealed in the province or neighborhood, seems not to be clear.

It is certain, however, that he was in New York in 1791 [sic]. It

need only be added here that the "Charter of Liberties," passed

in 1683, under a Catholic governor, was, with all other laws

passed by the late general assembly, repealed by the Protestant

assembly of New York, in 1691, and a so-called "Bill of Rights"

passed, which expressly deprived Catholics of all their political

and religious _rights_. In 1697 this "Bill of Rights" was

repealed by King William, "probably as being too liberal," says

Bishop Bayley; and, in 1700, an act was passed which recited that

"Whereas, divers Jesuits, priests, and popish missionaries have,

of late, come, and for some time have had this province, and

others of his majesty's adjacent colonies, who, by their wicked

and subtle insinuations, industriously labored to debauch,

seduce, and withdraw the Indians from their due obedience to his

most sacred majesty, and to excite and stir them up to sedition,

rebellion, and open hostility against his majesty's priest, etc.,

remaining in or coming into the province after November 1st,

1700, should be "deemed and accounted an incendiary and disturber

of the public peace and safety, and an enemy of the true

Christian religion, and shall be adjudged to suffer _perpetual

imprisonment_," that, in case of escape and capture, they

should suffer _death_, and that harborers of priests should

pay a fine of two hundred pounds, and stand three days in the

pillory. If it is alleged that the law of 1691 was the result of

high party excitement and public alarm, what excuse, it may be

asked, is to be alleged for the more illiberal and persecuting

law of 1700? It is but justice to James II., to point to the

"Charter of Liberties" of 1683, passed with his own approbation,

and at his suggestion, and then to the laws of 1691 and 1700,

passed under William and Mary, and remark that, though the

revolution gave the colonies William and Mary in the place of

James, it also gave penal and odious laws, and a deceptive "Bill

of Rights," in exchange for a "Charter of Liberties" that gave

what its title professed to confer. In Maryland, too, whose

Catholic founders proclaimed civil and religious liberty as the

basis of their commonwealth, the same scenes, on a more extended

scale, were at the same time being enacted; the persecutors in

New York were in intimate correspondence with their co-laborers

in Maryland and New England.

In 1691, when Governor Dongan saw, from the passage of the "Bill

of Rights," that Catholics were excluded from the benefits of

government, and subjected to persecution, he returned to England.

While he was governor of New York, in 1685, his brother William,

who had, in 1661, been created Baron Dongan and Viscount Claine

in the Irish peerage, was advanced to the earldom of Limerick,

with remainder, on the failure of direct issue, to Colonel Thomas

Dongan. On the breaking out of the revolution and the flight of

James II., William, Earl of Limerick, adhered to that monarch,

and followed him into France; whereupon his estates were

forfeited, and granted to the Earl of Athlone, an adherent of

William.

{782}

This grant was confirmed by an act of the Irish parliament, but

with a clause saving the right of Colonel Thomas Dongan. Colonel

Dongan, on his return to England, made every effort to recover

some portion of his brother's estates. His brother, the Earl of

Limerick, died at St. Germain in 1698, whereupon Colonel Dongan

was introduced to William III. as successor of the late Earl of

Limerick, and the new earl did homage to the king for his

earldom, and, according to the feudal custom, kissed the king's

hand on succeeding to the rank. He was allowed by the government,

about the same time, £2500, in tallies, in part payment for

advances made by him for public purposes while governor of New

York. His persevering efforts to recover the estates of his

deceased brother so far finally succeeded as to induce the

passage of an act of parliament for his relief, on the 25th of

May, 1702. He subsequently offered himself for service in the

American colonies, but it does not appear that he was ever in the

service of the crown after his return to England. He died in

London, on the 14th day of December, 1715, and was interred in

the church-yard of St. Pancras, Middlesex. The inscription on his

tombstone reads as follows:

"The Right Honble Thomas Dongan,

Earl of Limerick.

Died December 14th,

aged eighty-one years,

1715.

Requiescat in Pace. Amen."

In addition to the encomiums passed upon him both by Catholic and

Protestant historians, the following, from De Courcy and Shea's

_Catholic Church in the United States_, is here inserted:

"This able governor was not long enough in office to realize

all his plans for the good of the colony, where he had

expended, for the public good, most of his private fortune. In

this, as in many other points, the Catholic Governor Dongan

forms a striking contrast with the mass of colonial rulers, who

sought their own profit at the expense of the countries

submitted to them. To Dongan, too, New York is indebted for the

convocation of the first legislative assembly, the colony

having been, till then, ruled and governed at the good pleasure

of the governor; and this readiness to admit the people to a

share in the government is a fact which the enemies of James

II. should not conceal in their estimate of that Catholic

monarch."

Mr. Moore gives us the following particulars in his note, cited

among the authorities to this article:

"This nobleman died without issue. His estates in America were

settled chiefly on three nephews, John, Thomas, and Walter

Dongan. Lieutenant-Colonel Edward Vaughan Dongan, of the third

battalion of New Jersey Volunteers, who died of wounds received

in an attack on the British posts on Staten Island, in August,

1777, was son of the last-mentioned gentleman. John Charlton

Dongan, another collateral relative of the Earl of Limerick,

represented Richmond County in the New York Assembly, from 1786

to 1789. Representatives of this ancient family are still to be

found in New York."

[NOTE.--The above article is condensed from a forthcoming work

of Mr. R. H. Clarke, to be entitled, _Lives of Eminent

Catholics of the United States_.]

----------

{783}

Beethoven.

His Warning.

Years passed on, and Beethoven continued to reside at Vienna with

his two brothers, who had followed him thither, and took the

charge of his domestic establishment, so as to leave him entirely

at leisure for composition. His reputation had advanced gradually

but surely, and he now stood high, if not highest, among living

masters. The prediction was beginning to be accomplished.

It was a mild evening in the latter part of September, and a

large company was assembled at the charming villa of the Baron

Raimond von Wetzlar, situated near Schönbrunn. They had been

invited to be present at a musical contest between the celebrated

Wolff and Beethoven. The part of Wolff was espoused with great

enthusiasm by the baron; that of Beethoven by the Prince de

Lichnowsky, and, as in all such matters, partisans swarmed on

either side. The popular talk among the music-loving Viennese

was, everywhere, discussion of the merits of the rival candidates

for fame.

Beethoven was walking in one of the avenues of the illuminated

garden, accompanied by his pupil, Ferdinand Ries. The melancholy

that marked the composer's temperament seemed, more than ever, to

have the ascendency over him.

"I confess to you, Ferdinand," said he, apparently in

continuation of some previous conversation, "I regret my

engagement with Sonnleithner."

"And yet you have written the opera?"

"I have completed it, but not to my own satisfaction. And I shall

object to its being produced first at Vienna."

"Why so? The Viennese are your friends."

"For that very reason I will not appeal to their judgment; I want

an impartial one. I distrust my genius for the opera."

"How can that be possible?"

"It is my intimacy with Salieri that has inclined me that way;

nature did not suggest it; I can never feel at home there.

Ferdinand, I am self-upbraided, and should be, were the applause

of a thousand spectators sounding in my ears."

"Nay," said the student, "the artist assumes too much who judges

himself."

"But I have not judged myself."

"Who, then, has dared to insinuate a doubt of your success?"

Beethoven hesitated; his impressions, his convictions, would seem

superstition to his companion, and he was not prepared to

encounter either raillery or ridicule. Just then the host, with a

party of the guests, met them, exclaiming that they had been

everywhere sought; that the company was all assembled in the

saloon, and every thing ready for the exhibition.

"You are bent on making a gladiator of me, dear baron," cried the

composer, "in order that I may be mangled and torn to pieces, for

the popular amusement, by your favorite Wolff."

{784}

"Heaven forbid I should prejudge either combatant!" cried Von

Wetzlar. "The lists are open; the prize is not to be awarded by

me."

"But your good wishes--your hopes--"

"Oh! as to that, I must frankly own I prefer the good old school

to your new-fangled conceits and innovations. But come--the

audience waits."

Each in turn, the two rivals played a piece composed by himself,

accompanied by select performers. Then each improvised a short

piece. The delight of the spectators was called forth in

different ways. In the production of Wolff a sustained elevation,

clearness, and brilliancy recalled the glories of Mozart's

school, and moved the audience to repeated bursts of admiration.

In that of Beethoven there was a startling boldness, an impetuous

rush of emotions, a frequency of abrupt contrasts--and withal a

certain wildness and mystery--that irresistibly enthralled the

feelings, while it outraged, at the same time, their sense of

musical propriety. There was little applause, but the deep

silence, prolonged even after the notes had ceased, told how

intensely all had been interested.

The victory remained undecided. There was a clamor of eager

voices among the spectators; but no one could collect the

suffrages, nor determine which was the successful champion in the

contest. The Prince Lichnowsky, however, stood up, and boldly

claimed it for his favorite.

"Nay," interrupted Beethoven, advancing, "my dear prince, there

has been no contest." He offered his hand to his opponent. "We

may still esteem each other, Wolff; we are not rivals. Our style

is essentially different; I yield to you the palm of excellence

in the qualities that distinguish you."

"You are right, my friend," cried Wolff; "henceforth let there be

no more talk of championship between us. I will hold him for my

enemy who ventures to compare me with you--you so superior in the

path you have chosen. It is a higher path than mine--an original

one; I follow contentedly in the course marked out by others."

"But our paths lead to the same goal," replied Beethoven. "We

will speed each other with good wishes; and embrace cordially

when we meet _there_ at last."

There was an unusual solemnity in the composer's last words, and

it put an end to the discussion. All responded warmly to his

sentiment. But amidst the general murmur of approbation, one

voice was heard that seemed strangely to startle Beethoven. His

face grew pale, then flushed deeply; and the next moment he

pressed his way hastily through the crowd, and seized by the arm

a retreating figure.

"You shall see me in Vienna," whispered the stranger in his ear.

"Yet a word with you. You shall not escape me thus."

"_Auf wiedersehen!_" And shaking off the grasp, the stranger

disappeared.

No one had observed his entrance; the host knew him not, and

though most of the company remarked the composer's singular

emotion, none could inform him whither the unbidden guest had

gone. Beethoven remained abstracted during the rest of the

evening.

{785}

The opera of _Leonore_ was represented at Prague; it met

with but indifferent success. At Vienna, however, it commanded

unbounded applause. Several alterations had been made in it; the

composer had written a new overture, and the _finale_ of the

first act; he had suppressed a duo and trio of some importance,

and made other improvements and retrenchments. Not small was his

triumph at the favorable decision of the Viennese public. A new

turn seemed to be given to his mind; he revolved thoughts of

future conquests over the same portion of the realm of art; he no

longer questioned his own spirit. It was a crisis in the artist's

life, and might have resulted in his choice of a different career

from that in which he has won undying fame.

Beethoven sat alone in his study; there was a light knock at the

door. He replied with a careless "come in," without looking up

from his work. He was engaged in revising the last scenes of his

opera.

The visitor walked to the table and stood there a few minutes

unobserved. Probably the artist mistook him for one of his

brothers; but, on looking up, he started with indescribable

surprise. The unknown friend of his youth stood beside him.

"So you have kept your word," said the composer, when he had

recovered from his first astonishment; "and now, I pray you, sit

down, and tell me with whom I have the honor of having formed

acquaintance in so remarkable a manner."

"My name is of no importance, as it may or may not prove known to

you," replied the stranger. "I am your good genius, if my counsel

does you good; if not, I would prefer to take an obscure place

among your disappointed friends."

There was a tone of grave rebuke in what his visitor said that

perplexed and annoyed the artist. It struck him that there was

affectation in this assumption of mystery, and he observed

coldly,

"I shall not attempt, of course, to deprive you of your

_incognito_; but if you assume it for the sake of effect, I

would merely give you to understand that I am not prone to listen

to anonymous advice."

"Oh! that you would listen," said the stranger, sorrowfully

shaking his head, "to the pleadings of your better nature!"

"What do you mean?" demanded Beethoven, starting up.

"Ask your own heart. If that acquit you, I have nothing to say. I

leave you, then, to the glories of your new career; to the

popular applause--to your triumphs--to your remorse."

The composer was silent a few moments, and appeared agitated. At

last he said, "I know not your reasons for this mystery; but

whatever they may be, I will honor them. I entreat you to speak

frankly. You do not approve my present undertaking?"

"Frankly, I do not. Your genius lies not this way," and he raised

some of the leaves of the opera music.

"How know you that?" asked the artist, a little mortified. "You,

perhaps, despise the opera?"

"I do not. I love it; I honor it; I honor the noble creations of

those great masters who have excelled in it. But you, my friend,

are beckoned to a higher and holier path."

"How know you that?" repeated Beethoven, and this time his voice

faltered.

"Because I know you; because I know the aspirations of your

genius; because I know the misgivings that pursue you in the

midst of success; the self-reproach that you suffer to be stifled

in the clamor of popular praise. Even now, in the midst of your

triumph, you are haunted by the consciousness that you are not

fulfilling the true mission of the artist."

His piercing words were winged with truth itself. Beethoven

buried his face in his hands.

{786}

"Woe to you," cried the unknown, "if you suppress, till they are

wholly dead, your once earnest longings after the pure and the

good! Woe to you, if, charmed by the syren song of vanity, you

close your ears against the cry of a despairing world! Woe to

you, if you resign unfulfilled the trust God committed to your

hands, to sustain the weak and faltering soul, to give it

strength to bear the ills of life, strength to battle against

evil, to face the last enemy!"

"You are right--you are right!" exclaimed Beethoven, clasping his

hands.

"I once predicted your elevation, your world-wide fame,"

continued the stranger; "for I saw you sunk in despondency, and

knew that your spirit must be aroused to bear up against trial.

You now stand on the verge of a more dreadful abyss. You are in

danger of making the gratification of your own pride, instead of

the fulfilment of Heaven's will, the aim--the goal of your life's

efforts."

"Oh! never," cried the artist, with you to guide me."

"We shall meet no more. I watched over you in boyhood; I have now

come forth from retirement to give you my last warning;

henceforth I shall observe your course in silence. And I shall

not go unrewarded. I know too well the noble spirit that burns in

your breast. You will--yes, you will fulfil your mission; your

glory from this time shall rest on a basis of immortality. You

shall be hailed the benefactor of humanity; and the spiritual joy

you prepare for others shall return to you in full measure,

pressed down and running over!"

The artist's kindling features showed that he responded to the

enthusiasm of his visitor; but he answered not.

"And now, farewell. But remember, before you can accomplish this

lofty mission, you must be baptized with a baptism of fire. The

tones that are to agitate and stir up to revolution the powers of

the human soul come not forth from an unruffled breast, but from

the depths of a sorely wrung and tried spirit. You must steal the

triple flame from heaven, and it will first consume the peace of

your own being. Remember this--and droop not when the hour of

trial comes! Farewell!"

The stranger crossed his hands over Beethoven's head, as if

mentally invoking a blessing--folded him in his embrace, and

departed. The artist made no effort to follow him. Deep and

bitter were the thoughts that moved within him; and he remained

leaning his head on the table, in silent revery, or walking the

room with rapid and irregular steps, for many hours. At length

the struggle was over; pale but composed, he took up the sheets

of his opera and threw them carelessly into his desk. His next

work, _Christ in the Mount of Olives_, attested the high and

firm resolve of his mind, sustained by its self-reliance, and

independent of popular applause or disapprobation. His great

symphonies, which carried the fame of the composer to its highest

point, displayed the same triumph of religious principle.

The Last Hours Of Beethoven.

Once more we find Beethoven, in the extreme decline of life. In

one of the most obscure and narrow streets of Vienna, on the

third floor of a gloomy-looking house, was now the abode of the

gifted artist. For many weary and wasting years he had been the

prey of a cruel malady, that defied the power of medicine for its

cure, and had reduced him to a state of utter helplessness.

{787}

His ears had long been closed to the music that owed its birth to

his genius; it was long since he had heard the sound of a human

voice. In the melancholy solitude to which he now condemned

himself, he received visits from but few of his friends, and

those at rare intervals. Society seemed a burden to him. Yet he

persisted in his labors, and continued to compose,

notwithstanding his deafness, those undying works which commanded

for him the homage of Europe.

Proofs of this feeling, and of the unforgotten affection of those

who knew his worth, reached him in his retreat from time to time.

Now it was a medal struck at Paris, and bearing his features; now

it was a new piano, the gift of some amateurs in London; at

another time, some honorary title decreed him by the authorities

of Vienna, or a diploma of membership of some distinguished

musical society. All these moved him not, for he had quite

outlived his taste for the honors of man's bestowing. What could

they--what could even the certainty that he had now immortal

fame--do to soften the anguish of his malady, from which he

looked alone to death as a relief?

"They wrong me who call me stern or misanthropic," said he to his

brother, who came in March, 1827, to pay him a visit. "God

knoweth how I love my fellow-men! Has not my life been theirs?

Have I not struggled with temptation, trial, and suffering from

my boyhood till now, for their sakes? And now if I no longer

mingle among them, is it not because my cruel infirmity unfits me

for their companionship? When my fearful doom of separation from

the rest of the human race is forced on my heart, do I not writhe

with terrible agony, and wish that my end were come? And why,

brother, have I lived, to drag out so wretched an existence? Why

have I not succumbed ere now?

"I will tell you, brother. A soft and gentle hand--it was that of

art--held me back from the abyss. I could not quit the world

before I had produced all--_had done all that I was appointed

to do_. Has not such been the teaching of our holy church? I

have learned through her precepts that patience is the handmaid

of truth; I will go with her even to the footstool of the

eternal."

The servant of the house entered and gave Beethoven a large

sealed package directed to himself. He opened it; it contained a

magnificent collection of the works of Handel, with a few lines

stating that it was a dying bequest to the composer from the

Count de N----. He it was who had been the unknown counsellor of

Beethoven's youth and manhood; and the arrival of this posthumous

present seemed to assure the artist that his own close of life

was crowned with the approval of his friend. It was as if a

_seal_ had been set on that approbation, and the friendship

of two noble spirits. It seemed like the dismissal of Beethoven

from further toil.

The old man stooped his face over the papers; tears fell upon

them, and he breathed a silent prayer. After a few moments he

arose, and said, somewhat wildly, "We have not walked to-day,

Carl. Let us go forth. This confined air suffocates me."

The wind was howling violently without; the rain beat in gusts

against the windows; it was a bitter night. The brother wrote on

a slip of paper, and handed it to Beethoven.

{788}

"A storm? Well, I have walked in many a storm, and I like it

better than the biting melancholy that preys upon me here in my

solitary room. Oh! how I loved the storm once; my spirit danced

with joy when the winds blew fiercely, and the tall trees rocked,

and the sea lashed itself into a fury. It was all music to me.

Alas! there is no music now so loud that I can hear it.

"Do you remember the last time I led the orchestra at Von ----'s?

Ah! you were not there; but I heard--yes, by leaning my breast

against the instrument. When some one asked me how I heard, I

replied, '_J'etntends avec mes entraillies._'"

Disturbed by his nervous restlessness, the aged composer went to

the window, and opened it with trembling hands. The wind blew

aside his white locks, and cooled his feverish forehead.

"I have one fear," he said, turning to his brother and slightly

shuddering, "that haunts me at times--the fear of poverty. Look

at this meanly furnished room, that single lamp, my meagre fare;

and yet all these cost money, and my little wealth is daily

consumed. Think of the misery of an old man, helpless and deaf,

without the means of subsistence!"

"Have you not your pension secure?"

"It depends upon the bounty of those who bestowed it; and the

favor of princes is capricious. Then again, it was given on

condition I remained in the territory of Austria, at the time the

king of Westphalia offered me the place of chapel-master at

Cassel. Alas! I cannot beat the restriction. I must travel,

brother--I must leave this city."

"You-leave Vienna?" exclaimed his brother in utter amazement,

looking at the feeble old man whose limbs could scarcely bear him

from one street to another. Then, recollecting himself, he wrote

down his question.

"Why? Because I am restless and unhappy. I have no peace, Carl!

Is it not the chafing of the unchained spirit that pants to be

free, and to wander through God's limitless universe? Alas! she

is built up in a wall of clay, and not a sound can penetrate her

gloomy dungeon."

Overcome by his feelings, the old man bowed his head on his

brother's shoulder, and wept bitterly. Carl saw that the delirium

that sometimes accompanied his paroxysms of illness had clouded

his faculties.

The malady increased. The sufferer's eyes were glazed; he grasped

his brother's hand with a tremulous pressure.

"Carl! Carl! I pardon you the evil you did me in childhood. Pray

for me, brother!" cried the failing voice of the artist.

His brother supported him to the sofa and called for assistance.

In an hour or two, his friend and spiritual adviser, summoned in

haste, had administered the last rites of the church, and

neighbors and friends had gathered around the dying man. He

seemed gradually sinking into insensibility.

Suddenly he revived; a bright smile illumined his whole face; his

sunken eyes sparkled.

"I shall _hear_ in heaven!" he murmured softly, and then

sang in a low but distinct voice the lines from a hymn of his

own:

"Brüder! über'm Sternenzelt,

Muss ein lieber _Vater_ wohnen."

In the last faint tone of

the music his gentle spirit passed away.

Thus died Beethoven, a true artist, a good and generous man, a

devout Catholic. Simple, frank, loyal to his principles, his life

was spent in working out what he conceived his duty; and though

his task was wrought in privation, in solitude, and distress,

though happiness was not his lot in this world, doth there not

remain for him an eternal reward?

{789}

The Viennese gave him a magnificent funeral. More than thirty

thousand persons attended. The first musicians of the city

executed the celebrated funeral march composed by him, and placed

in his heroic symphony; the most famous poets and artists were

pall-bearers, or carried torches; Hummel, who had come from

Weimar expressly to see him, placed a laurel crown upon his tomb.

Prague, Berlin, and all the principal cities of Germany, paid

honors to his memory, and solemnized with pomp the anniversary of

his death. Such was the distinction heaped on the dust of him

whose life had been one of suffering, and whose last years had

been solitary, because he felt that his infirmities excluded him

from human brotherhood.

----------

The Assumption Of Our Lady.

If sin be captive, grace must find release;

From curse of sin the innocent is free.

Tomb prison is for sinners that decease;

No tomb but throne to guiltless doth agree.

Though thralls of sin lie lingering in the grave,

Yet faultless corse with soul reward must have.

The dazzled eye doth dimmèd light require,

And dying sights repose in shrouding shades;

But eagles' eyes to brightest light aspire,

And living looks delight in lofty glades.

Faint-wingèd fowl by ground do faintly fly:

Our princely eagle mounts unto the sky.

Gem to her worth, spouse to her love ascends;

Prince to her throne, queen to her heavenly king;

Whose court with solemn pomp on her attends,

And choirs of saints with greeting notes do sing.

Earth rendereth up her undeservèd prey:

Heaven claims the right, and bears the prize away.

Southwell.

----------

{790}

The Conversion of Rome.

[Footnote 196]

[Footnote 196:

1. History of European Morals, from Augustus to Charlemagne.

By W. E. H. Lecky. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1869. 2

vols. 8vo.

2. History of the Rise and Influence of the Spirit of

Rationalism in Europe. By the same. From the London edition.

New York: Appleton & Co., 1868. 2 vols. 8vo.]

Two irreconcilable systems of morals have disputed the empire of

the earliest times. The one is founded on the fact that God

creates man; the other on the assumption that man is himself God,

or, at least, a god unto himself. The first system finds its

principle in the fact stated in the first verse of Genesis, "In

the beginning God created heaven and earth;" the second finds its

principle in the assurance of Satan to Eve, "Ye shall be as gods,

knowing good and evil." The first system is that of the Biblical

patriarchs, the synagogue, the Christian church, and all sound

philosophy as well as of common sense--is the theological system,

which places man in entire dependence on God as principle,

medium, and end, and asserts as its basis in us, HUMILITY,

"Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of

heaven." The other system is the gentile or pagan system, or that

which prevailed with the Gentiles after their falling away from

the patriarchal religion. It assumed, in its practical

developments, two forms, the supremacy of the state and the

supremacy of the individual; but in both was asserted the

supremacy of man--or man as his own lawgiver, teacher, and

master, his own beginning, middle, and end, and therefore, either

individually or collectively, man's sufficiency for himself. Its

principle or basis, then, is PRIDE.

Mr. Lecky adopts, as we have shown in our former article, the

pagan, or, more properly, the satanic system of morals, at least

as to its principle, though in some few particulars he gives the

superiority to Christian morals, particulars in which Christians

advanced further than had advanced the best pagan school before

the conversion of Rome, but in the same direction, on the same

principle, and from the same starting-point. He nowhere accepts

the Christian or theological principle, and rejects everywhere,

with scorn, Christian asceticism, which, according to him, is

based on a false principle--that of appeasing the anger of a

malevolent God. He accepts Christianity only so far as reducible

to the pagan principle.

The only points in which Christian morals--for Christian dogmas,

in his view, have no relation to morals, and are not to be

counted--are a progress on pagan morals, are the assertion of the

brotherhood of the race and the recognition of the emotional side

of human nature. But even these two points, as he understands

them, are not peculiar to Christianity. He shows that some of the

later Stoics, at least, asserted the brotherhood of the race, or

that nothing human is foreign to any one who is a man--that all

good offices are due to all men; and whoever has studied Plato at

all, knows that Platonism attached at least as much importance,

and gave as large a scope to our emotional nature, as does

Christianity. Christian morals have, then, really nothing

peculiar, and are, in principle, no advance on paganism. The most

that can be said is that Christianity gave to the brotherhood of

the race more prominence than did paganism, and transformed the

Platonic love, which was the love of the beautiful, into the love

of humanity.

{791}

This being all, we may well ask, How was it that Christianity was

able to gain the victory over the pagan philosophers, and to

convert the city of Rome and the Roman empire?

Mr. Lecky adopts the modern doctrine of progress, and he

endeavors to prove from the historical analysis of the several

pagan schools of moral philosophy, that the pagan world was

gradually approaching the Christian ideal, and that when

Christianity appeared at Rome it had all but attained it, so that

the change was but slight, and, there being a favorable

conjuncture of external circumstances, the change was easily

effected. The philosophers of the empire had advanced from

primitive fetichism to a pure and sublime monotheism; the

mingling of men of all nations and all religions in Rome,

consequent on the extension of the empire over the whole

civilized world, had liberalized the views, weakened the narrow

exclusiveness of former times, and gone far towards the

obliteration of the distinction of nations, castes, and classes,

and thus had, in a measure, prepared the world for the reception

of a universal religion, based on the doctrine of the fraternity

of the race and love of humanity.

All this would be very well, if it were true; but it happens to

be mainly false. The fact, as well as the idea of progress, in

the moral order, is wholly foreign to the pagan world. No pagan

nation ever exhibits the least sign of progress in the moral

order, either under the relation of doctrine or that of practice.

The history of every pagan people is the history of an almost

continuous moral deterioration. The purest and best period, under

a moral point of view, in the history of the Roman republic, was

its earliest, and nothing can exceed the corruption of its morals

and manners at its close. We may make the same remark of every

non-Catholic nation in modern times. There is a far lower

standard of morals reached or aimed at in Protestant nations

to-day than was common at the epoch of the Reformation; and the

moral corruption of our own country has increased in a greater

ratio than have our wealth and numbers. We are hardly the same

people that we were even thirty years ago; and the worst of it

is, that the pagan system, whether under the ancient Greco-Roman

form or under the modern Protestant form, has no recuperative

energy, and the nation abandoned to it has no power of

self-renovation. Pagan nations may advance, and no doubt, at

times, have advanced, in the industrial order, in the mechanic

arts, and in the fine arts, but in the moral, intellectual, and

spiritual order, never.

Mr. Lecky confines his history almost entirely to the moral

doctrines of the philosophers; but even in these he shows no

moral melioration in the later from the earlier, no progress

towards Christian morals. In relation to specific duties of man

to man, and of the citizen to the state, the Christian has,

indeed, little fault to find with the _De Officiis_ of

Cicero; but we find even in him no approach to the Christian

basis of morals. The Greeks never have any conception of either

law or good, in the Christian sense. The [Greek text] was only a

rule or principle of harmony; it had its reason in the [Greek

text], or the beautiful, and could not bind the conscience. The

Latins placed the end, or the reason and motive of the moral law,

in the _honestum_, the proper, the decent, or decorous. The

highest moral act was _virtus_, manliness, and consisted in

bravery or courage.

{792}

The rule was, to be manly; the motive, self-respect. One must not

be mean or cowardly, because it was unmanly, and would destroy

one's self-respect. We have here pride, not humility; not the

slightest approach to the Christian principle of morals, either

to the rule or the motive of virtue as understood by the

Christian church.

Yet Mr. Lecky tells us the moral doctrines of the philosophers

were much superior to the practice of the people. He admits the

people were far below the philosophers, and were very corrupt;

but we see no evidence that he has any adequate conception of how

corrupt they were. What the people were we can learn from the

satirists, from the historians, Livy, Sallust, and Tacitus,

especially from the _De Civitate Dei_ of St. Augustine, and

the writings of the early Greek and Latin fathers. Our author

acknowledges not only that the philosophers were superior to the

people, but also that they were impotent to effect their moral

elevation or any moral amelioration of their condition. Nothing

more true. How, then, if Christianity was based on the pagan

principle of morals, was in the same order with paganism, and

differed from it only in certain details, or, as the schoolmen

say, certain accidents--how explain the amelioration of morals

and manners which uniformly followed whenever and wherever it was

received?