Here is, then, a problem for theorists, in a better condition

than previously. We hope to return to it shortly, in a subsequent

bulletin. In conclusion, let us point out a new application of

these experiments to the physical theory of comets. Mr. Tyndall

considers the cometary matter to be a vapor on which the sun's

rays act physically and chemically. These two actions would be

somewhat contrary to each other; for the first would tend to

evaporate the liquid particles and expand the vapor, while the

second would precipitate this vapor in the form of incipient

cloud. As the comet approaches solar action, forming an immense

volume, of which the visible part will be only a small fraction,

the head being the most condensed portion. If, now, we suppose

the head to absorb the heating rays more abundantly than the

remaining ones, in the cool shadow behind it the chemical action

may prevail, and form an incipient cloud, which will be the tail

of the comet. Elsewhere, the calorific action will predominate,

and the vapor will remain invisible. Such is substantially the

new theory of comets. It certainly satisfies the general

conditions of the problem, and especially it explains very

naturally the enormously rapid movements observed in the tails of

these bodies. But will what is still undetermined in it enable it

to be accommodated to the numerous facts already observed, and

hereafter to be so? Here, also, it may be regretted that the

spectroscope was not employed by the English physicist. The

spectra of the incipient clouds might have been compared with

those of comets' tails; and would have given an excellent test of

the theory. Perhaps, however, he has reserved this part of his

researches for a future publication.

----------

{829}

St. Oren's Priory.

Or, Extracts From The

Note-book Of An American In A

French Monastery.

"Pour chercher mieux."

--Device of Queen Christina of Sweden.

PART I.

"I hear a voice you cannot hear,

Forbidding me to stay:

I see a hand you cannot see,

Which beckons me away."

Such were the words on my lips, my dear friend, when I bade you

farewell and promised that I would, from time to time, give you a

picture of my convent life, that you might in spirit follow me

closely into the sealed garden of the Beloved, though forced by

circumstances to remain far from me in body.

Fatigued with my long journey, you can imagine I was very glad

when I reached this city. I hastened to find the _Rue du

Prieuré_, a narrow, gloomy street, paved with cobble-stones,

cheerless and uninviting. But about half-way down, I saw a statue

of Mary Most Pure, in a niche over a large doorway, with her

all-embracing arms extended in welcome. That was a _sursum

corda_ which reassured me. The place where Mary is honored is

always a home for her children. The sight of her image brings

peace and repose to the soul, and I turned aside to rest under

her shadow. It was the grand portal of St. Oren's Priory, an

arched passage through the very building, wide enough to admit a

carriage. I stopped before the ponderous door that was to open

for me a new life. This was the door I had so often heard

compared with another portal which bears the inscription:

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

But above my head was the Madonna which meant love and peace.

_Peace_; yes, that was what I sought, like the Tuscan poet

at the Italian monastery:

"And as he asks what there the stranger seeks,

My voice along the cloister whispers, Peace!"

The door opened just wide enough to admit me, and, passing

through the arch, I found myself in a small paved court, enclosed

by the monastery on all sides, where the sun only comes for a

short time at midday--a grateful refuge from its heat. In it is a

fine large linden-tree, under whose wide-spreading branches I

found a group of nuns--it being the hour of daily reunion. I felt

bewildered by the sight of so many strange faces, but my first

impression was one of general kindness and cordiality. I could

not have asked for a kinder welcome, and surely hope and peace

were on every face. One of the mothers, seeing my fatigue, took

me to the chapel for a moment, and then, through long corridors,

to a small cell; thus giving me a general glance at my foreign

home. I found thick stone walls, long passages, paved floors, a

dim old chapel, and narrow cells. You will think this fearful; on

the contrary, it is charming because monastic. One of the narrow

cells is mine; furnished with a table, chair, bed, and

_prie-dieu_. On the latter stands a crucifix, and on the

wall hangs a print of Notre Dame de Bon Secours. There is one

window in it,

"Looking toward the golden Eastern air."

{830}

It opens in the middle, longitudinally, like all the windows

here; each part swinging back like a folding-door. Looking

through it upon the convent garden, the first thing I saw was a

lay-sister, bearing on her head an antique-looking jar, which she

had just filled from a huge well. There are two of these immense

wells in the garden, dug by the monks of old! Yes, _monks_,

for our monastery was once a Benedictine abbey, and dates from

the tenth century. There's hoary antiquity for you, which has

such a charm for us people of the new world. These first days,

while resting from my fatigue, I have been looking over the

annals of this old establishment, and must give you an outline of

them.

Do you remember reading, in the _Chronicles_ of Sir John

Froissart, of the Armagnacs, so long at enmity with the house of

Foix? The first Count of Armagnac, was the founder of St. Oren's

Priory. He was known by the name of Bernard _le Louche_. He

made this city the capital of his _comté;_ and one of his

first acts, after his establishment here, was to build this

monastery. The old parchment in the archives of the priory, quite

in accordance with the spirit of the times, runs thus:

"Bernardus Luscus, mindful of his sins, unable to fulfil a vow

he had made to visit the Holy Places at Jerusalem, and desirous

of liquidating his debts to Divine Justice, resolved, by the

counsel of his wife, the Domina Emerina, and the advice of the

magnates, his lieges, to found a monastery _in honorem

Sanctorum Joannis Baptistae et Evangelistae et Beati

Orentii_, that therein prayer might be daily offered for his

sins and for those of his posterity."

The site selected for the erection of this monastery was on the

banks of a branch of the Garonne, at the foot of an old city

known in the time of the Caesars as Climberris, and built _en

amphithéatre_, with superb terraces, upon the side of an

elevation. It was fitting that the abbey, which Count Bernard had

founded for the spiritual weal of himself and his posterity, and

endowed with "lands and livings many a rood," should find shelter

beneath his fostering eye at the very foot of his crescent-shaped

city, which was itself surmounted by the embattled walls of his

own stronghold. Thus enclosed by hills on the north and west, and

the peaceful, sluggish Algersius on the east, threading its way

toward the Garonne--its current soft-gliding and calm as the life

of the cloister--what spot more suitable could Count Bernard have

found on which to build a house of prayer? The warm sun of France

to which it thus lay exposed was tempered by the keen,

invigorating winds that came from the snowy Pyrenees, which

glitter away to the south.

In this very place, before the advent of the Messiah, in

mythological times, a temple had stood in honor of Diana, the old

ideal of a people's reverence for purity, and one of nature's

foreshadowings of the Christian exaltation of chastity. The

Auscitains being early converted to Christianity, their zealous

apostles overthrew the high places of the Gentiles, and thereon

set up the victorious ensign of the cross--_Vexilla regis

prodeunt!_

On the ruins of Diana's temple was erected an altar to the true

God, and a baptistery, named, as all baptisteries are, after the

precursor of Christ, where came the warlike Ausci to be

regenerated at the holy hands of the zealous St. Taurin, and the

fearless, idol-demolishing St. Oren, who in turn fixed their

abode hard by. Other saints too have lived on the same spot, and

their bodies were enshrined hereon after their spirits had passed

away.

{831}

St. Taurin, St. Oren, St. Léothade, St. Austinde, names ever

venerable to the heart of an Auscitain, living in the shadow of

your shrines, sheltered by your votaries who merit for me your

protection, I should be ungrateful to you, untrue to my own

heart, did I not often murmur your potent names and praise you to

those afar off!

St. Taurin was the fourth successor of St. Paterne, whom St.

Sernin, the great apostle not only of Toulouse but of all this

part of France, consecrated first bishop of Eauze, then the

metropolis of Novempopulania, as Gascony was called. Forced by

barbarians, who came in search of spoils, to quit Eauze, St.

Taurin took refuge in Climberris, bringing with him, among other

relics, the bodies of his four sainted predecessors in the

episcopacy: St. Paterne, St. Servand, St. Optat, St. Pompidien.

At that time, there were two distinct cities here--Climberris, a

Gaulish city, on the side and crest of the hill, and Augusta

Auscorum, on the eastern bank of the Algersius, which last

received its name from the Emperor Augustus, who passed through

it on his return from Spain, and gave it the rights of a Roman

city. St. Saturnin had first preached the gospel here, and built

a church under the invocation of St. Peter in the city of

Augusta; and at the foot of Climberris, where our priory now

stands, was a church of St. John. St. Taurin chose the latter as

his metropolitan church--a rank it retained for a long

period--and there enshrined the holy bodies he had brought with

him.

The zeal of St. Taurin was not confined to his own flock. Hearing

of a great Druidical celebration in the woods of Berdale, he

repaired thither. The unholy rites had commenced, and a profound

silence reigned, when all at once a loud voice was heard. It was

that of St. Taurin, denouncing their idolatry and calling upon

the multitude to turn to the true God. The crowd was at first too

much astonished at his boldness to move, but after some

hesitation, incited by the Druids, overwhelmed the apostle with a

shower of stones. Finding he still breathed, they cut off his

head. His feast is solemnized with the utmost pomp in this

diocese, on the fifth of September, which is believed to be the

day of his martyrdom.

St. Oren belonged to a Spanish family of high rank, his father

being the Duke of Urgel and Governor of Catalonia. He early

renounced his right of heritage, but, after the death of his

brother, succeeded to the family estates. He sold all his

property, distributed the money among the poor, and retired to a

hermitage amidst the mountains of Bigorre, where he led an

angelic life, giving himself up to severe austerities and the

contemplation of divine things. The renown of his virtues and his

reputation for learning caused his nomination to this see, of

which he reluctantly took possession in the year 400. He

displayed extraordinary energy and zeal in rooting out the

vestiges of idolatry still lingering in his diocese, and in

reviving true piety among the lukewarm of his flock.

St. Oren was a learned man and a poet. The great Fortunatus,

Bishop of Poitiers, who lived in the sixth century, mentions his

poems, of which some fragments have come down to us. His

_Nomenclature_, in particular, has always been known and

quoted. It is more extensive than any other ancient list of the

symbols of the God-Man. Sylvius, in the fifth century, gives

forty-five of these symbolical names in seven verses. Clement of

Alexandria, in his hymn to our Saviour, gives ten. St. Cyril

mentions twelve, in a sermon.

{832}

The list of St. Phébade of Agen, in the fourth century, comprises

twenty-one. The _Nomenclature_ of Constantinople mentions

twelve; that of Rome, twenty-two; but that of St. Oren, composed

in his solitude of Bigorre, gives, in five distichs, fifty-two of

these emblematical names of our Saviour. I quote it entire:

De Epithetis Salvatoris Nostri.

Janua,

Virgo,

Leo,

Sapientia,

Verbum,

Rex,

Baculus,

Princeps,

Dux,

Petra,

Pastor,

Homo,

Retia,

Sol,

Sponsus,

Semen,

Mons,

Stella,

Magister,

Margarita,

Dies,

Agnus,

Ovis,

Vitulus,

Thesaurus,

Fons,

Vita,

Manus,

Caput,

Ignis,

Aratrum,

Flos,

Lapis angularis,

Dextra,

Columba,

Puer,

Vitis,

Adam,

Digitus,

Speculum,

Via,

Botryo,

Panis,

Hostia,

Lex,

Ratio,

Virga,

Piscis,

Aquila,

Justus,

Progenies regis,

regisque Sacerdos;

Nomina Magna Dei,

major at ipse Deus.

"These are the great names of God, but he himself is still far

greater!" says the last line.

St. Oren never lost his love for solitude, and this attraction,

added to the burden of his episcopal duties, induced him at last

to resume his hermit's staff and set out for the grotto, which

had been the witness of his former austerities and was the

never-ceasing object of his regret. His flock, in consternation,

pursued him and brought him back to his post, where his piety,

his talents, and the miracles he wrought, gave him preeminence

among all the bishops of Aquitaine. When Theodoric I., King of

the Visigoths, was besieged at Toulouse, by Lictorius, lieutenant

of the celebrated Aétius, the former sent St. Oren, with several

other bishops, to arrange terms of peace with the Roman

commander. Lictorius received them with haughty contempt, and,

sure of victory, rejected all their propositions. Then Theodoric

humbled himself before the Lord of Hosts. He covered himself with

sackcloth, prostrated himself in prayer, and then went forth to

battle and to victory.

Shortly after this embassy, St. Oren felt his end approaching,

and armed himself with the holy sacraments for the last earthly

combat. His soul passed away, with a sweet odor, on the first of

May, and his body was enshrined in the church of St. John, which

subsequently took his name. He has always been greatly venerated

in this country, and is invoked in all diseases of the mind.

Count John I. of Armagnac gave a magnificent silver bust as a

reliquary for the skull of St. Oren. His feast is still

religiously celebrated, and is a great holiday among the common

people, who assemble after vespers to dance their _rondeaux_

in the open air.

The church of St. John, where reposed a long line of holy

apostles and prelates, was, with the two cities, destroyed by the

Saracens, in the eighth century. But in the year of grace 956, as

I have said, Bernard le Louche, inspired by God, built on the

same spot a magnificent church with three naves, to which he

joined a Benedictine abbey. They were built of the stones of the

city walls, which, two centuries before, had been levelled to the

dust by the Moors. A hundred years later, this abbey was reduced

to a priory by St. Hugo, and affiliated to his abbey at Cluny.

The names of a long succession of abbots and priors are recorded

in the chronicles of St. Oren's Priory, most of whom belonged to

the noblest families of the country. During the French Revolution

of 1793, the abbatial church and a part of the monastery were,

alas! destroyed; but there is a quadrangular tower--a part of the

original abbey--still standing, and a fine Gothic chapel, which

dates from the fourteenth century, besides a more modern, and

still large, edifice, with long dim corridors leading away to

austere cells, or to spacious sunny _salons_. These were

taken possession of by a venerable community of Ursuline nuns,

who had been dispersed during the Reign of Terror, but who, as

soon as permitted, hastened like doves to find a new ark.

{833}

A steep spiral staircase, of hewn stone, lighted only by long

narrow chinks left purposely in the thick walls, leads to the top

of the old tower, which commands a delightful view of the valley

of the Algersius. At the foot, toward the south, lies the convent

garden, with its wells, its almond-trees, acacias, vines, and

rose-bushes--loved haunts of the nightingales, which I heard

there for the first time in my life. On the east passes the

_route impériale_, beneath the very convent walls, and

beyond, parallel with it, flows the river which gives its name to

the _département_. Centuries ago, when the country was more

thickly wooded, it is said to have been a navigable river, and

merited to be sung by Fortunatus, who was a poet as well as

bishop. The eastern bank is shaded by a long grove of noble

trees--a public promenade--where, at due hours, may be seen all

the fashion, valor, and sanctity of the city. Through the trees

may be caught a glimpse of an old Franciscan monastery, now an

asylum for the insane, where once stood a temple of Bacchus,

whose memory is still perpetuated in this land of vineyards.

There, in the fourteenth century, was buried Reine, niece of Pope

Clement V., and wife of John I., the thirteenth Comte d'Armagnac.

Near by is the airy tower of St. Pierre, first built by St.

Saturnin, in the third century, and rebuilt several times

since--the last time, after its destruction by the Huguenots in

the civil and religious disturbances of the sixteenth century.

The music of its _carillon_ floats through the valley at an

early hour every morning, summoning the devout to mass.

Cradling the valley toward the west is the quaint old city. Its

houses of cream-colored stone with red tiled roofs rise one

behind the other on terraces, and, crowning all, are the towers

of one of the finest cathedrals of France.

Due east from the tower, in the background, rises a high hill,

called in the time of the Romans Mount Nerveva, but which now

glories in the more Christian appellation of Mount St. Cric.

There our glorious St. Oren battered down a temple of Apollo, but

its summit is still lit up by that god at each return of hallowed

morn.

Away to the south stretch the Pyrenees, hiding Catholic and

chivalric Spain, and gleaming in the sun like the very walls of

the celestial city. Even Maldetta, with its name of ill omen,

looks pure and holy.

This old tower is for me a loved haunt on a bright sunny day. I

often betake myself to its top to enjoy all the reveries inspired

by the scene before me. Its venerable, almost crumbling walls,

its curious recesses and carvings, speak loudly of the monks of

old. There I seem nearer to heaven; I breathe a purer, a more

refined atmosphere, which exalts the heart and quickens its

vibrations.

There is a large sunny apartment in the tower in which I

witnessed a most affecting event--the death of a nun. So

impressed was I by this flight of an angelic soul to the

everlasting embraces of the Spouse of virgins, that I cannot

refrain from giving you a sketch of its closing scenes.

{834}

When I first arrived at the priory, poor Sister Saint Sophie

wandered around like a ghost, already far gone with pulmonary

consumption. She entered the cloister while only seventeen years

of age, wishing to offer the flower of her life to him who loves

the fragrance of an innocent heart. Now, at the age of

twenty-eight, she was called to exchange the holy chants of the

choir for the divine _Trisagium_ of the redeemed above. Her

health had long been delicate; but the innocence of her soul, the

natural calmness of her disposition, her strong religious faith,

and her detachment from earth, made her look forward to death

without the slightest apprehension. She spoke of the event as she

would of going to the chapel where dwells the Beloved.

About a week before her death, she went to the infirmary, by her

own request--to die. The infirmary is a commodious apartment in

the second story of the tower, a room which most of the nuns

shrink from approaching, for there they have seen so many of

their sisters die. I went every day to see poor Sister Sophie.

The room was adorned with religious engravings, a crucifix, a

statue of the Madonna, and a holy-water font. On the mantel were

some books of devotion, among which I noticed the New Testament

in French. I always found this dying sister calm, excepting one

evening, when her cheeks glowed with a burning fever. It was only

a few days before her death, and was caused by her last struggle

with earth. When that was past, she was ready to die. Her sister,

longing to see her once more, had obtained permission of the

ecclesiastical superiors to enter the monastery. But Sister

Sophie, wishing to avail herself of this last opportunity of

self-sacrifice, opposed her entrance; and it was this struggle

between natural affection and a sense of duty which produced so

violent a fever. This act of self-denial affected me deeply.

One Saturday, at about half-past eight in the morning, I was

hastily summoned by the Mère St. J---- to go to the infirmary,

for Sister Sophie was dying. I hurried down. Poor Sophie lay,

ghastly white, with her crucifix in her hands. Her rosary and

girdle lay, on the bed, at the foot of which was placed an

engraving of the Sacred Heart of our Lord Jesus Christ, in the

opening of which reposed a dove--emblem of the soul that trusts

in the Saviour. She was perfectly calm. There was not a sign of

apprehension. Her brother-in-law, who was her physician, stood by

her bedside, and said she could not survive the day. Her

confessor, the Abbé de B----, a venerable priest of more than

four score years, asked if she had any thing on her conscience.

She shook her head. Her soul was clad in its pure bridal robe,

ready for the marriage supper of the Lamb. All went to the

chapel, and, with lighted tapers, two and two, followed the holy

viaticum to the infirmary. It was borne by the _curé_ in a

silver ciborium, and placed on an altar erected in the middle of

the room. It was a most solemn scene--the nuns kneeling all

around with wax tapers in their hands, their heads bowed down in

adoration, and their black robes and veils flowing around them,

all responding to the priest, who, in white surplice and stole,

brought comfort to the dying. He demanded of the dying nun a

profession of her faith; if she died in charity with all mankind;

and if she were sorry, and begged pardon of God, for all her

sins--to which she faintly but distinctly responded. He then gave

her the divine viaticum, and prepared to administer to her the

sacrament of extreme unction.

{835}

As he anointed each organ, he said, before repeating the formula

of the church, "O God! forgive me the sins I have committed by

_such an organ_," (of sight, hearing, etc.) After this

sacrament he accorded her the plenary indulgence of Bona Mors. I

was very much affected by these holy rites, and the more so as I

then witnessed them for the first time.

I went to see the departing sister several times in the course of

the day. The death-struggle was long, but there was no appearance

of suffering.

At eight o'clock in the evening, while we were reading the

meditation for the following morning, a nun came in haste.

"Quick! quick! pray for Sister Sophie. She is dying!" In a moment

the infirmary was crowded with nuns. Sister Sophie was in her

agony. The crucifix was still in her hand. A blessed candle of

pure white wax was burning beside her, and the sub-prioress was

reading solemn prayers for the departing soul, to which the nuns

sobbingly responded. At the head of her bed stood a sister, who

sprinkled her from time to time with holy water. Near her stood

another prompting pious aspirations: "Jesus! Mary! Joseph! may I

breathe out my soul with you in peace!"

At half-past eight she had given up her soul as calmly as if

going to sleep. The _Sub-venite_ was said, and then we all

went to the chapel to pray for the departed.

The next morning, (Sunday,) on my way to the chapel, I stopped at

the infirmary. Sister Sophie was lying on a bier, clad in her

religious habit, with the sacred veil upon her head, and in her

clasped hands a crucifix, and the vows which bound her to the

Spouse of virgins. Her countenance was expressive of happiness

and repose. A wax candle burned on each side of her head. A

holy-water font stood near, and some nuns knelt around, praying

for their departed sister. That day, masses were offered for her

in every church and chapel in the city, and at a later hour the

nuns said the office of the dead in choir. At four o'clock, I

went again to the infirmary, to see her placed in her coffin. I

have witnessed among those who are vowed to a life of holy

poverty many examples of detachment from every thing the world

deems essential, but I have never seen any thing which so went to

my heart as when I saw Sister Sophie's coffin. It was simply a

long deal box, unpainted and without lining. The body was placed

therein, still in the religious costume. The black veil covered

the face, and on her head was a wreath of white flowers. How

bitterly did the nuns weep as they placed their sister in her

narrow cell--even more austere than that in which she had lived!

I too wept profusely to see one buried thus humbly, but perhaps

suitably. The lid being nailed down, the coffin was covered with

a pall, on which was a great white cross, and on it the novices

spread garlands of fresh white flowers mingled with green leaves.

The nuns are buried in the cemetery of St. Oren's parish, and

nothing is more affecting than when, at the portal of the

convent, the coffin is entrusted to the hands of strangers; the

nuns not being able to go beyond the limits of the cloister. It

is then conveyed to the exterior church. Several priests received

Sister Sophie at the door, and sprinkled the coffin with holy

water, chanting meanwhile the _De Profundis_ and _Requiem

aeternam_. How awfully solemn are these chants of the dead!

Every tone went to my very heart. The coffin was then borne to

the centre of the church, where it was surrounded by lights, and

the priests chanted the office for the dead, at the close of

which they went in procession to the cemetery.

{836}

First were three acolytes, the middle one bearing an immense

silver cross, which gleamed aloft in the departing sunlight; and

the other two bore the censer and the _bénitier;_ then came

the priests, two and two, chanting the _Miserere_. The

coffin followed, borne on a bier by six peasant women dressed in

white, with curious white caps and kerchiefs. Their sepulchral

appearance made me shudder. Then went four young ladies bearing a

pall, on which was the great white cross and the significant

death's-head. Many other ladies followed in procession. Arriving

at the cemetery, the grave was blessed, while we all knelt about

it. Water that had been sanctified with prayer was sprinkled on

the fresh earth; clouds of incense rose from the smoking censer,

and _Ego sum resurrectio et vita_ burst in solemn

intonations from the lips of the priests. Then the coffin was

lowered into the grave; the young ladies threw in garlands of

flowers which were soon covered. Poor Sophie was at rest, and her

soul was enjoying the reward of her sacrifices. I bedewed her

grave with my tears. Never was I so peculiarly affected by any

death as by this, every circumstance of which is fastened most

vividly in my memory. The _De Profundis_ and the

_Miserere_ still ring in my ear, and poor Sister Sophie, as

she lay in her agony, surrounded by the spouses of Christ,

praying amid their sobs, for her admittance into Paradise, will

never be forgotten. "_Requiescat in pace!_"

But of all parts of the priory, I love best the antique chapel of

the Immaculate Conception. It is entered through the cloister by

a low, dim vestibule, supported by "ponderous columns, short and

low." A few steps, and the arches spring lightly up, forming a

perfect gem of a Gothic chapel, with its altar faithful to the

east--

"Mindful of Him who, in the Orient born,

There lived, and on the cross his life resigned,

And who, from out the regions of the morn,

Issuing in pomp, shall come to judge mankind."

Three ogival windows in the chancel throw on the pavement the

warm gules of an escutcheon emblazoned on the glass. They diffuse

not too strong a light--only enough for a glow around the

tabernacle, leaving the rest of the chapel in a shade that

disposes the heart to contemplation and prayer. In the morning,

at mass, the rising sun streams through, mingling with the light

of the tapers, like that of nature and grace in the hearts of the

worshippers. Over the altar, in a niche, is a statue of Mary Most

Pure, with the divine Babe in her arms--as I love to see all her

statues, that the remembrance of the Blessed Virgin may never be

disconnected from that of the Incarnation. "The Madonna and

Child--a subject so consecrated by antiquity," says Mrs. Jameson,

"so hallowed by its profound significance, so endeared by its

associations with the softest and deepest of our human

sympathies, that the mind has never wearied of its repetition,

nor the eye become satiated with its beauty. Those who refuse to

give it the honor due to a religious representation yet regard it

with a tender, half-unwilling homage, and when the glorified type

of what is purest, loftiest, holiest, in womanhood stands before

us, arrayed in all the majesty that accomplished art, inspired by

faith and love, could lend her, and bearing her divine Son,

rather enthroned than sustained, on her maternal bosom,'we look,

and the heart is in heaven!' and it is difficult, very difficult,

to refrain from an 'Ora pro nobis!'"

{837}

In this chapel Mary has been honored for ages. The chronicles of

the priory tell us that in the days of the monks of St. Benedict

crowds of the faithful filled, as now, this chapel on the eighth

of December, its patronal _féte_. The deep-toned voices that

then chanted the praises of Mary have died away, but the notes

have been caught up and continued in softer, sweeter tones by the

lips of the spouses of Christ.

I can never enter this chapel without a thrill. I love to linger

beneath its vault of stone, the arches of which spring from

corbells quaintly sculptured, and form, at their intersection,

medallions of Jesus and Mary, who look benignly down on the

suppliant beneath. Prostrate on the pavement which holy knees

have worn, and breathing an air perfumed by the prayers of

centuries, my mind goes back to former times, and I think of the

cowled monks who once bowed in prayer before the same altar, and

murmured the same prayers I so love to repeat:

"Their book they read and their beads they told,

To human softness dead and cold,

And all life's vanity."

I must tell you something of St. Mary's Cathedral, which is the

glory of this place. You should see it from our garden, crowning

this city built upon a hill, with its towers and pinnacles. It is

perfectly majestic. There, on the same spot, before the

Incarnation, stood a temple of Venus. Christianity, which always

loved to sanctify these high places, made the lascivious Venus

yield to the Mother of pure love. Toward the end of the third

century, St. Taurin brought a venerated statue of our Lady from

Eauze, and erected a chapel here in her honor. It was not till

about the year 800 that a cathedral was erected in the same

place. It has been four times demolished, and as often rebuilt.

In 1793, it was preserved with great difficulty. During that time

it served as a prison for many of the _noblesse_, and was

stripped of many of its most precious ornaments. The holy image

of Mary was superseded by the Goddess of Reason, and horses were

stabled in its chapels. But one does not love to linger over such

profanation.

This cathedral is particularly remarkable for the carvings of the

choir and for the fine stained-glass windows of the Renaissance.

Wishing to examine it minutely, I obtained permission to visit it

at those hours when it is closed--that is, from noon till three

o'clock. Accompanied by a servant, I was there precisely at

twelve. The Angelus bell pealed forth just as I entered the

church, and

"Sprinkled with holy sounds the air, as the priest with his hyssop

Sprinkles the congregation and scatters blessings upon them."

The _Suisse_, who was an old soldier under Napoleon I., and

was in the Russian campaign, locked us in, free to wander at will

and unremarked in this vast cathedral, with the excellent

_Monographie_ by the learned Abbé Canéto in hand. At the

very portal we passed over the tomb of an old archbishop, who

wished through humility to be buried under the pavement of the

principal entrance to the church, that he might be trodden under

foot by all men. Perhaps there was something of natural instinct

in this choice. I know not whether I should prefer some quiet and

shady nook for my grave, or a great thoroughfare like this, with

the almost constant ring of human feet above my head. This

prelate has lain there about two centuries, "awaiting," as the

inscription says, "the resurrection of the dead."

We entered the church beneath the tribune of the organ, a fine

instrument--the master-piece of Joyeuse, a famous organ-maker of

the time of Louis XIV. On its front panels are beautifully

carved, _en relief_, St. Cecilia and the Royal Harper.

{838}

The whole building is over three hundred feet long. Four rows of

pillars divide it into three naves and collateral chapels, which

are twenty-one in number, extending quite around it, each with

paintings, and statues, and altars of marble, and its oaken

confessional,

"Where the graveyard in the human heart

Gives up its dead at the voice of the priest."

The baptismal font, in the first chapel to the left, is of a

single block of fine black Belgian marble. One lingers

reverentially before it, to think of all the souls that have

there been regenerated, and of the holy joy of the guardian

angels around it.

The windows are glorious in their effect. Thereon are represented

all the principal characters of the Bible, beginning with Adam

and Eve; interspersed are the sibyls _(Teste David cum

sibylla)_ and saints of the middle ages. The bright sun,

streaming through these "storied windows richly dight," revealing

in brightest hues "many a prophet, many a saint," casts a rich

light of purple and crimson and gold over altar and saint and

shrine; not the _dim_ religious light of the poets, but

bright and glorious as the rainbow that spans the Eternal Throne!

I could sit in their light for ever. What a beautiful missal,

gorgeously illuminated, they form for the common people, and a

book ever open, full of the beauty of holiness! I envy those who

have worshipped in such a church from infancy, whose minds and

tastes have been formed, in part, by its influences, whose

earliest religious associations are connected with so much that

is beautiful as well as elevating. There must be a certain tone

to their piety, as well as to their minds, wanting to those who

have only frequented the humbler chapels of the new world. I can

never enter the plainest Catholic church without emotion. The

very sight of a humble altar surmounted by the rudest cross, goes

to my heart; how much more a magnificent church like this, where

every thing appeals to the heart, the soul, the imagination!

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

"Flamboyant with a thousand gorgeous colors,

The perfect flower of Gothic loveliness!"

Beyond the transepts is the choir--a church within a church; for

it is enclosed by a high wall with a screen and rood-loft in

front. Here the canons chant the divine office seven times a day.

The stalls in which they sit are fit for princes--each one a

marvellous piece of workmanship, like the handiwork of a fairy

rather than of man.

The panels with their large figures in relief, the Gothic niches

with their statuettes, the desks all covered with carved animals

and plants almost in the perfection of nature, the canopy with

its hangings, beautiful as lace, are all perfectly wrought in

black oak, and surpass all conception. I have heard it said the

wood was kept under water twenty years, and the carver was fifty

years in completing his work; and you would believe it could you

see the effect. I have seen finer churches, in some respects, but

no carvings to surpass these. One is never weary of examining

every inch of this exquisite choir, so full of perfection is

every part. Sacred and profane history, mythological and

legendary lore, the fauna and flora, are all mingled in these

stalls. There are one hundred and thirteen of them--sixty-seven

superior, and forty-six inferior; and three hundred and six

statuettes in wonderful little Gothic niches. Each superior stall

has its large panel, on which in demi-relief is the image of some

saint or sibyl.

{839}

One of them represents St. Martha of Bethany, with an

_aspersoir_ in her hand and the _Tarasque_ at her feet,

alluding to the old legend so popular in Provence, of her

subduing a monster which ravaged the banks of the Rhone by

sprinkling him with holy water. The city of Tarascon commemorates

the tradition. A magnificent church built there, under the

invocation of St. Martha, was endowed by Louis XI.

At three o'clock the canons came for vespers, after which we went

to the tower to see the view and examine the bells, the largest

of which is covered with medallions of the apostles and the

Blessed Virgin, and with mottoes. It bears the name of Mary.

"These bells have been anointed

And baptized with holy water."

Perhaps you do not know that in the ceremony of consecrating a

bell, the bishop prays that, as the voice of Christ appeased the

troubled waters, God would endow the sound of the bell with power

to avert the malign influence of the great enemy; that it may

possess the power of David's harp, which dispelled the dark cloud

from the soul of Saul; and that at its sound hosts of angels may

surround the assembled multitudes, preserve their souls from

temptation and defend their bodies from all danger. The smaller

bells are rung daily for the Angelus and ordinary occasions. The

tones of the great Bourdon are reserved for the grand festivals

of Christmas, Easter, etc. I was curious to see them, for they

are like friends from whom we have had many kind tokens, but have

never met. They are always ringing above the priory; and their

tones say so many things to our hearts--solemn and funereal, or

tender, or joyful. "There is something beautiful in the

church-bell," says Douglas Jerrold--"beautiful and hopeful. They

talk to the high and low, rich and poor, in the same voice. There

is a sound in them that should scare away envy and pride and

meanness of all sorts from the heart of man; that should make him

look on the world with kind, forgiving eyes; that should make the

earth itself seem, to him at least, a holy place. Yes, there is a

whole sermon in the very sound of the church-bells, if we only

have the ears to understand it." As Longfellow says:

"For the bells themselves are the best of preachers; Their

brazen lips are learned teachers. From their pulpits of stone

in the upper air, Sounding aloft, without crack or flaw,

Shriller than trumpets under the law, Now a sermon and now a

prayer. The clamorous hammer is the tongue; This way, that way,

beaten and swung, That from mouth of brass, as from mouth of

gold, May be taught the Testaments, New and Old: And above it

the great cross-beam of wood Representeth the holy rood, Upon

which, like the bell, our hopes are hung. And the wheel

wherewith it is swayed and rung Is the mind of man, that round

and round Sways, and maketh the tongue to sound! And the rope,

with its twisted cordage three, Denoteth the scriptural Trinity

Of morals, and symbols, and history; And the upward and

downward motions show That we touch upon matters high and low:

And the constant change and transmutation Of action and of

contemplation, Downward, the Scripture brought from on high;

Upward, exalted again to the sky; Downward, the literal

interpretation, Upward, the vision and mystery!"

In the undercroft of the cathedral reposes, among other saints,

the body of St. Léothade. He was of royal blood, being a near

relative of Eudes, Duke of Aquitaine, who was of the race of

Clotaire II. He was also related to Charles Martel, and to the

well-known sylvan saint, Hubert, who was contemporary with St.

Léothade, and a native of this part of France. St. Léothade

embraced the monastic state early in life, and, after being abbot

at Moissac, was called to govern this diocese, which he did for

twenty-seven years. In the wars between Charles Martel and Eudes

he retired into Burgundy, his native place, where he died at the

beginning of the eighth century. His body was reclaimed by the

Auscitains.

{840}

His tomb is all sculptured with the symbols of our Saviour--the

fish, wine, etc.

St. Léothade is invoked in various diseases, particularly for

epilepsy.

Through the kindness of the _mère prieure_ I had the

privilege of assisting at the office of Holy Week at St. Mary's

Cathedral. I witnessed all those affecting rites from the

_jubé_, or rood-loft, which is reached by a dark, winding

stairway in one of the huge pillars. My position was one of

seclusion, and yet overlooked both the choir and the nave. To

fully appreciate the ceremonies of the church, one must witness

them in one of these old churches of the middle ages, to which

they seem adapted. The long procession of white-robed clergy,

through the forest of columns, with palm branches in their hands;

"Hosanna to the son of David!" resounding through the arches; the

tapers, rich vestments, the heavenly light streaming through the

stained-glass windows, not dimly, but like a very rainbow of hope

encircling us all--impress the heart with sentiments of profound

devotion.

I was particularly struck by the vivid picture of the Passion

given in the gospel of Palm-Sunday, as sung by the choir. One

priest chanted the historical parts in a recitative way; a

second, the words of our Lord; and a third, the words of the

disciples and others. The insolent cries of the multitude, the

confident tones of St. Peter, the loud bold tones of Judas, were

well reproduced; while the sacred words of Christ were repeated

in the clearest, calmest, most subdued and plaintive of accents,

that sank into my soul and moved me to tears. That voice seemed

to sweep over the sea of surging hearts that filled the church,

like the very voice of Jesus calming the tempest on the lake! It

rung in my heart for days. It rings there yet, a sermon more

powerful than any man could preach. When the priest comes to the

words, "_and gave up the ghost_," the sight of the vast

multitude prostrating to the ground is most impressive.

The gospel of the Passion, succeeding the triumphant procession

with the palm branches, becomes doubly impressive by the

contrast. "Oh! what a contrast," cries St. Bernard, "between

'_Tolle, tolle, crucifige eum_,' and '_Benedictus qui

venit in nomine Domini, Hosanna in Excelsis!_' What a contrast

between '_King of Israel_,' and '_We have no king but

Caesar!_' Between the green branches and the cross! Between

the flowers and the thorns! Between taking off their garments to

cast before him, and stripping him of his own and casting lots

for them!"

The nave was one forest of waving green branches, and the common

people seemed to enter into and enjoy the ceremonies very

heartily. These grand services give such a vivid idea of the

great events of the life of Christ that they must be very

beneficial to the people, who come in throngs to witness them;

and there are no pews here, with their invidious distinctions, to

shut them out. The peasant and the nobleman are brought on a

level in that place where alone is to be found true

democracy--the Church.

The archbishop presided at these ceremonies, a venerable,

austere-looking prelate, who moved about with gravity, always

attended by his servant, a pale, cadaverous-looking man in black,

with a white cravat, reminding me so forcibly of one of our New

England ministers that I never could resist a smile when my eye

fell on him, as he obediently followed the dignified prelate.

{841}

St. Mary's Cathedral was once one of the richest in France, being

endowed by the kings of Arragon, Navarre, and of France, and by

the Counts of Fezensac and of Armagnac. In those days the

archbishop was a magnate in the land. The Counts of Armagnac paid

homage to him, and when he came to take possession of his see,

the Baron de Montaut, with bared head and one limb bare, awaited

him on foot at the gates of the city, took his mule by the

bridle, and so conducted him to the cathedral. He was then, as he

styles himself now, primate of Novempopulania and of the two

Navarres.

One of the old archbishops, of the race of the Counts d'Aure,

accompanied Richard the Lion-hearted to Palestine in 1190, and

died there the next year.

On Holy Thursday all business was suspended. The streets were

crowded with people going to visit the different churches where

the Blessed Sacrament was exposed. I visited fourteen churches

and chapels. At every turn in the streets were boys erecting

little altars and chapels by the way-side, and importuning the

passer-by for a _sou_ to aid in fitting them up. Of course,

I saw the greater part of the city, which is picturesque, as seen

from the valley, but rather ugly when one has mounted the weary

flights of steps, and gained its heart. The streets are mostly

narrow and treeless, but there are two promenades with fine old

trees, and the public buildings are a credit to the place. There

is a _grand_ and _petit séminiaire_ here, a lyceum,

normal school, two boarding-schools, besides several day and free

schools; so there is no lack for means of instruction.

The famous Nostradamus, renowned for his _Centuries

prophétiques_, was once a professor in this place. And St.

Francis Regis was regent of the Jesuits' college which was here

before the suppression of that order in the last century.

On Good-Friday I went to the chapel of the Carmelites, for the

Three Hours' Agony. Daylight was wholly excluded. The altar was

fitted up like a Calvary, with a large crucifix on the summit.

Tall wax candles burned around it as round a bier. The rest of

the chapel was in darkness. The black grating that separates the

chancel from the choir of the nuns was so closely curtained that

they were wholly invisible. The agony was a paraphrase of the

last words of our Saviour upon the cross, making it like seven

discourses, or rather meditations. At the end of each part all

knelt, while the preacher made an extempore prayer, and then rose

a sweet solemn wail of music. One by one the lights around the

Calvary were extinguished--a deeper gloom shrouding the chapel

and settling on our hearts. At last, only one light was left,

emblematic of Him who came to give light to the world. That, too,

went out at three o'clock, leaving us in utter darkness. Then the

preacher cried: _Jesus is dying!--Jesus is dead!_ All fell

on their knees. The most profound silence reigned. When

sufficiently recovered from the awe and solemnity which pervaded

every heart, all prostrated themselves, and softly left the

church. The effect was indescribable. Nothing could so powerfully

incite the heart to repentance for sin, and unite it to the

sufferings and death of Christ, as this three hours' meditation

on his agony upon the cross.

"Holy Mother, pierce me through;

In my heart each wound renew

Of my Saviour crucified!"

{842}

After the weight of sorrow that had been accumulating on the

heart during the great week of the Passion, you cannot imagine

the effect when, on Holy Saturday, the joyful Alleluias rang out

with all the bells of the city, which had been hushed for days,

announcing the Resurrection. A great rock seemed rolled away from

the heart, and hope and joy rose triumphant over sorrow, and

anguish, and fear.

On Easter-Sunday I saw something at St. Mary's quite new to me.

After mass, a basket of bread was blessed, broken in pieces, and

passed around the church. All took a piece, made the sign of the

cross, and said a short prayer before eating it. This _pain

bénti_ is in commemoration of the _Agapae_ of the

primitive Christians, I suppose. It is a common custom here.

While still at our devotions, a man came around with a dish,

saying in a queer, sing-song tone, _Pour les ámes du

Purgatoire_, (For the souls in purgatory,) and offered the

dish as if doing you a favor to receive your mite, which,

perhaps, was right enough.

Last Sunday evening I went to St. Oren's parish church, to assist

at the month of Mary. On each side of the pulpit is a large

statue. One is of Moses, the Hebrew lawgiver, with two horns. He

is often represented so by the old masters, because the same word

which expresses the brightness of his face when he descended from

the mount, may also be rendered horns. They give him a comical

look, any thing but saint-like. Such a statue would seem more

suitable, to my unaccustomed eyes, for some rural spot. Then it

would look like some link between man and the lower animals, and

so have some claims to our sympathy.

I went into the sacristy to see the ivory horn said to have been

used by St. Oren, in the fifth century, to call the people to the

holy mysteries. It was still used, last century, during Holy

Week. It is curiously carved in the Byzantine style, with leaves,

birds, beasts, etc., upon it. It is popularly believed to have

the power of restoring hearing to the deaf. In the sacristy was

an old statue of St. Jago in a pilgrim's garb. In former times

there was a hospice in this city for the reception of pilgrims to

his shrine at Compostella.

In making some excavations in our grounds, where once were the

cloisters of the monks, the workmen have found many old graves,

and also some curiosities. The other day a marble slab was found,

on which is a Latin inscription in quaint old characters, stating

that it was erected by Amaneus II., an archbishop of this diocese

in the thirteenth century. Beneath the inscription was carved a

cross, on one side of which was a crosier, and on the other a

leopard lion, the cognizance of the house of Armagnac. It bore

the date of 1288. The said Amaneus was of the celebrated house of

Armagnac, the head of which founded this priory. I should not be

a true daughter of the house did I not, with pious memory, love

to recall our benefactors, for, replacing the old monks, we take

upon ourselves their sweet debt of gratitude. I will give you,

then, an outline of this once proud family, that you may share

all our glorious memories.

The counts of Armagnac descended from the Merovingian race of

kings. They were connected by marriage with the proudest families

of Europe, and at one time they gave their name to a faction of

France against the Burgundians. Their proud name and royal blood

were fit to merge again into a race of kings.

{843}

The first Count d'Armagnac was Bernard le Louche, who, through

Charibert, sovereign of Toulouse and Aquitaine, descended from

Clotaire II. Count Bernard was distinguished for his piety and

his benefactions to the church. The third count of Armagnac

divested himself of his worldly goods, and became a monk of the

order of St. Benedict.

The famous contest of the Armagnacs with the house of Foix began

in the time of Bernard VI., the twelfth count. The pope in vain

endeavored to reconcile them. Philippe of Navarre finally decided

their differences, and peace was declared in 1329. The war was

renewed some years after, in the time of Count John, who was

taken prisoner, and had to pay a ransom of one thousand livres.

Count Bernard VII. is the most famous of the Armagnacs. He was

the fifteenth count. His daughter Bonne married Charles, Duke of

Orleans, then only nineteen years of age, and the son of the Duc

d'Orléans who was killed by Jean-sans-peur, Duke of Burgundy.

Count Bernard became, by the youth of his son-in-law, the head of

the Orleans faction against the Burgundians. He was made

constable of France in 1415. To the dignity of supreme commander

of the army was added in a short time that of prime minister.

Descended from the old French monarchs, he had great sway in the

south of France, and was one of the greatest warriors of his age.

He displayed remarkable talents in remedying the frightful evils

which broke out throughout the kingdom. His efforts would

doubtless have been successful, had he not had to struggle

against the Burgundian party. By his experience and firmness he

established discipline among his troops, and kept them constantly

ready for action. Active, intrepid, gifted with a bold and

elevated character, he became a fearful rival for Jean-sans-peur.

The numerous partisans of the latter, having succeeded in

deceiving the vigilance of the constable, introduced the

Burgundian troops into Paris in the middle of the night. The

massacre of the principal royalists was the consequence, and the

Count of Armagnac himself was slaughtered in the most frightful

manner, on the 12th of June, 1418, in the fiftieth year of his

age. He was concealed in the house of a mason. The Burgundians

threatening the partisans of the Armagnacs with death and

confiscation, the mason treacherously denounced his guest, who

was immediately imprisoned in the _conciergerie_, amid the

imprecations of a multitude of his enemies. Forcing themselves

into the prison, they slew the count. In their fury they cut off

a piece of his skin, two inches wide, from the right shoulder to

the left side, in ridicule of the scarf which was the

distinguishing badge of the Armagnacs. He was buried at St.

Martin des Champs.

His successor, Count John IV., greatly aided Charles VII. against

the English, but finally offended him by desiring to marry the

daughter of the King of England, and by styling himself, "_by

the grace of God_, Count of Armagnac," though his ancestors

had used the expression for six centuries.

The haughty pretensions of the counts of Armagnac were the cause

of their final ruin. King Louis XI., ever jealous of the claims

of the nobility, decreed the downfall of their house. Count John

V. was besieged at Lectoure, and obliged to capitulate. The

soldiers entered the palace, ascended to the count's chamber, and

slew him on the first Saturday in Lent, 1473. At the third blow

he died, invoking the Virgin. All the people of Lectoure were

massacred, and for two months wolves were the only inhabitants of

the place.

{844}

The lands of Count John were united to the crown of France. His

brother Charles, who had been kept prisoner for fifteen years,

was finally restored to liberty, and to the possession of the

Comté d'Armagnac in 1483. He married Jane of Foix, who had no

children; but he left a natural son, the Baron de Caussade, whose

only son, George d'Armagnac, embraced the ecclesiastical state,

and became a cardinal. He was the last of the male line of the

Armagnacs.

The Comté d'Armagnac was afterward given by Louis XII. as the

dowry of his niece, Margaret of Valois, when she married Charles

d'Alençon, the grandson of Marie d'Armagnac, daughter of Count

John IV. Charles dying without children, Margaret married Henri

d'Albret, King of Navarre, who descended from a daughter of Count

Bernard VII. of Armagnac. Henri Quatre, King of France, was their

grandson, and from his time the Comté d'Armagnac has been

permanently united to the crown.

Louis XIV., after consummating his marriage at St. Jean de Luz,

returned to Paris through this city, where he assisted at the

divine office in St. Mary's Cathedral, and, in quality of Count

of Armagnac, took his place in his exquisitely carved stall as

_chanoine honoraire_.

The stronghold of the Armagnacs was long since laid low. Their

very name and blood are lost in those of another race, and their

lands given to another; but still in the green valley of the

Algersius rise the gray walls of a remnant of St. Oren's abbey to

propitiate the mercy of God in behalf of Count Bernard and his

lady Emerina, and still for them and their posterity goes up from

the nuns in choir the daily "_Oremus pro benefactoribus

nostris!_"

Last evening I went to the cathedral to hear Hermann improvise

upon the organ, or, I should say, Frère Augustin, for he is a

barefooted Carmelite monk. He was the favorite pupil of Liszt,

under whose instructions he became a celebrated musical artist

and composer. He was miraculously converted at Paris some years

since, by some particular emanation from the blessed sacrament,

the full particulars of which he has never given. "_Secretun

meum mihi_," he says, when speaking of it. He had gone to

church, at the request of a Christian friend, to play on the

organ. His conversion was succeeded by the desire of becoming a

monk, that he might daily receive our Lord in the blessed

sacrament, to which, from the first, he felt the most tender

devotion. He now belongs to a monastery in Agen. You should have

heard him last night, as I did, amid a crowd of all ranks. I do

not enjoy music scientifically, but it gives expression to a

thousand emotions and desires which are floating in the soul, and

which the tongue knows not how to express. That of Hermann

partakes of the enthusiasm and tenderness of his nature.

I stationed myself at the baptismal font, that I might see the

frère as he came down from the tribune. He was dressed in the

costume of his order, which is of the natural color of the wool.

His cowl was thrown back. His head was shaven closely with the

exception of a circlet of hair, as we see in pictures. He is an

Israelite and his features are of the Jewish type, but not too

strongly marked. His face was pale. In fact, he is out of health

and on his way to a place of rest. His manner was refined but

unpretending, and he seemed quite unconscious of the curiosity

and interest displayed by the crowd.

{845}

He is a poet as well as musician, and some of his

_cantiques_ in honor of the blessed sacrament are very

beautiful, particularly the one entitled _Quam dilecta

Tabernacula Tua!_ I quote two verses from it:

"Ils ne sont plus les jours de larmes:

J'ai retrouvé la paix du coeur

Depuis que j'ai goûté les charmes

Des tabernacles du Seigneur!

"Trop long-temps, brebis fugitive,

Je m'eloignai du Bon Pasteur.

Aujourd'hui, colombe plaintive,

Il l'appelle--il m'ouvre Son Coeur!"

A friend sent me this morning a pamphlet containing the

dedication of a collection of his hymns, which is a flame of

love. I give you an extract, which is only the echo of my own

heart:

"O adorable Jesus! as for me, whom thou hast led into solitude

to speak to my heart--for me whose days and nights glide

deliciously away in heavenly communications with thy adorable

presence; between the remembrance of the communion of to-day

and the hope of the communion of to-morrow, I embrace with

transport the walls of my cherished cell, where nothing

distracts my only thought from thee; where I breathe only love

for thy divine sacrament. ... If the church did not teach me

that to contemplate thee in heaven is a still greater joy, I

should never believe there could be more happiness than I

experience in loving thee in the holy eucharist, and in

receiving thee in my heart, so poor by nature but so rich

through thy grace!"

To Be Concluded Next Month.

----------

The New Englander On

The Moral Aspects Of Romanism.

In _The Catholic World_ of April last, we vindicated the

fair fame of the Catholic Church from some foul aspersions of a

Protestant minister, the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour, contained in a

book of his entitled, _Nights among the Romanists_.

The matter was a very simple one. This reverend gentleman, in the

opening chapter of his book, gave us the "moral results of the

Romish System," as he elegantly, in accordance with the

exigencies of modern controversy, styles the Catholic Church.

This "moral result" was, that Catholics are, everywhere, beyond

comparison, more unchaste than Protestants--say from three or

four to twelve times as much so. We do not exaggerate in the

least. Every reader who reads this book will draw this

conclusion. As _The New Englander_ says, "The effect of this

exhibit on the mind of the reader is overwhelming. To the

Protestant reader it serves to close the case, at the outset,

against the pretensions of the Roman Catholic Church to be the

institution ordained of Christ to destroy the works of the

devil."

This conclusion was reached by a comparison of the statistics of

many Roman Catholic countries of Europe with Protestant England,

in regard to homicide.

Then by comparing the amount of illegitimacy in certain Catholic

_cities_ with that in certain other Protestant _cities_

in Europe. Passing by the first branch of the subject for reasons

which we assigned, and which prevent us from taking up the matter

now, we considered the second very fully and completely. We

examined, with the utmost care and fidelity, the statistics of

illegitimacy of all the leading countries of Europe, including

the whole population of both city and country, and found Mr.

Seymour's conclusions, in this respect, were utterly and

completely false.

{846}

The complete exhibit showed that, taking the number of

illegitimate births as a standard of comparison, Catholic

countries are not in any degree more unchaste than Protestant,

but, on the contrary, the difference is in their favor quite

decidedly, though not with that overwhelming preponderance

claimed by Mr. Seymour in favor of Protestantism.

He states that he has taken his figures from official documents,

(and we have not disputed this,) but these same documents give

the account for the countries as well as for the cities, and Mr.

Seymour cannot be allowed to plead ignorance in reference to

them. He cannot, therefore, be excused from wilful and deliberate

deception, when he suppresses these statistics so necessary to

form a judgment in the case, and only gives such portions of them

as shall seem to sustain a false conclusion. This is the true

_suppressio veri_ and _suggestio falsi_, which is

certainly one of the meanest and most cowardly forms of lying

known.

We felt a natural indignation at being made the victims of such

treatment, and denounced the Rev. Mr. Seymour as a calumniator,

and called on the Rev. L. W. Bacon, who had warmly recommended

him and his book, to withdraw his recommendation, and cease to

abet the circulation of a vile calumny, even though the Catholic

Church were the object of it.

Mr. Bacon, in reply to our article, comes out in _The New

Englander_, endorsing not only the statements, but the unjust

and wicked conclusions of Mr. Seymour, and claims to have refuted

the statements of _The Catholic World_. We will now proceed

to show in what fashion he has done this.

The conclusions of Mr. Seymour in regard to the "moral results of

the Romish system," rest mainly in a comparison of the city of

London with the capitals of four Catholic countries, showing that

while the rate of illegitimacy is only 4 per cent in the former,

it varies from 33 to 51 per cent in the latter. This is

reinforced by tables of ten Prussian cities (of which, by the by,

the best two are Catholic cities) with ten Austrian; another of

five English cities with the same number of Italian, with

similar, though by no means such striking results. Then, lest

countries should seem to get the go-by, various Protestant

countries are compared with provinces of the Austrian empire,

which, it is needless to say, make a bad show in the comparison.

As we have said before, we did not impugn in _The Catholic

World_ the accuracy of these figures, but we pointed out that

we could not trust them as indicating the morality of London,

Liverpool, and the English cities, because the rate of

illegitimacy in them was lower than in the whole of England; and

it is a most violent and incredible supposition, that cities

acknowledged to be the hotbeds of vice should be purer than the

countries in which they are situated. We suggested that other

forms of impurity had probably replaced illegitimacy, and that,

after all, London, Liverpool, etc., were not much, if any, better

than the continental cities. We quoted some figures in reference

to the amount of what is called the "social evil" in London,

etc., from _The Church and the World_, a ritualistic

journal. This, and this alone, Mr. Bacon attacks, of all that is

contained in our article. Our other reasons in regard to the

morality of London, etc., are left entirely unnoticed. We gave

also some, as we conceived, very grave and strong reasons why the

figures of illegitimacy should not be regarded as conclusive in

regard to the continental cities.

{847}

We pointed out the existence of very large establishments in them

for the reception of foundlings, receiving all infants deposited

in them; and suggested that, for this reason alone, the

illegitimacy of whole districts of country would all show itself

in the city. This is obvious enough; for example, if a large

hospital of this kind existed in New York City, no one doubts it

would receive infants from New Jersey, Connecticut, and all the

adjacent country, and the rate of illegitimacy would represent

all this part of the country, rather than the city alone. Mr.

Bacon has not vouchsafed to give one word of reply to all this,

or to discuss the matter at all. Now, as it concerns the good

name of a large class of his fellow-men, and is evidence in

rebuttal of a very grave accusation against them, this really

seems more like the conduct of a partisan determined on victory

at any rate, rather than of a Christian gentleman seeking to

vindicate a fellow-Christian from an imputation against his

character.

But whatever might be said about the comparative morality of

certain cities, we vindicated the Catholic Church from the charge

of having produced a moral result incomparably worse than

Protestantism, and completely destroyed the overwhelming effect

calculated to be produced on the Protestant mind by Mr. Seymour's

conclusions, by giving one complete table of the percentage of

illegitimacy in all the chief countries of Europe, both

Protestant and Catholic, as follows:

_Catholic Countries._

1825-37, Kingdom of Sardinia, 2.1

1859, Spain, 5.6

1853, Tuscany, 6.

1858, Catholic Prussia, 6.1

1859, Belgium, 7.4

1856, Sicily, 7.4

1858, France, 7.8

1851, Austria, 9.

_Protestant Countries._

1859, England and Wales, 6.5

1855, Norway, 9.3

1858, Protestant Prussia, 9.3

1855, Sweden, 9.5

1855, Hanover, 9.9

1866, Scotland, 10.1

1855, Denmark, 11.5

1838-47, Iceland, 14.

1858, Saxony, 16.

1857, Wurtemberg, 16.1

Every item of which was taken by ourselves, after a patient and

minute examination, from the _Journals of the Statistical

Society of London_, in the Astor Library, taking the latest

accounts of each country in every case.

Here the whole question lies in a nut-shell. As Mr. Bacon says,

"the criterion is in the number of illegitimate births." This

table gives a complete view of this criterion, and therefore it

requires to be refuted before it can be said that any refutation

has been made of _The Catholic World_. How does Mr. Bacon

meet it?

He does not meet it at all. He says that the figures of _The

Catholic World_ are "outrageously false," and "that he shall

presently prove it." We have looked in vain for the proof that

any figure of this table is either "outrageously false" or false

at all. We do not see that he has said one word to bring any of

them under even the least shadow of suspicion. We will give the

substance of his arguments against the truth of our statements:

1. Mr. Seymour's book appeared, and no answer was made to it for

many years, and therefore it must be presumed to be truth, as to

its facts and conclusions.

{848}

To this we reply, that it makes no difference what presumptions

may exist when they are upset by positive proof. Whether Mr.

Seymour has been answered or not, does not change the rate of

illegitimacy in any country of Europe in the least. Catholics may

not deem it more worth while to reply to Seymour than to the

McGavins and the Brownlees. The obviously sinuous and unfair

selection of Mr. Seymour's statistics is a sufficient reason for

allowing them to slide along with a thousand other calumnies so

obviously false as not to be worth the trouble of refuting.

However that may be, we have given the refutation, and that ends

all the presumptions.

2. Mr. Bacon tries to produce an impression on the minds of his

readers that we shall add up and arrange the figures to suit our

convenience, and are not to be trusted because we profess

confidence, in the outset, of the result of the investigation, on

account of our belief that the Catholic Church is the church of

Christ.

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

"But _The Catholic World_ for April last crushes these

formidable allegations with one single stroke of _a

priori_ argument: 'We know that she (the Roman Church) is

Christ's church, and that just in proportion as she exerts her

influence, virtue and morality must prevail; and that it is

impossible to prove, unless through fraud and

misrepresentation, that the practical working of her system

produces a morality inferior to that of any other.' This, of

course, is 'the end of controversy.' To go into details of

argument would be superfluous, not to say ridiculous, after a

demonstration so sweeping. But scorning criticism and ridicule,

straightway down into details and figures marches _The

Catholic World_. Having at the start announced it as _de

fide_ that the figures must be so found and so added up as

to show a satisfactory balance in favor of his side, or else

the foundations of the faith were destroyed and the hope of

salvation cut off, he proceeds to the statistical business with

that eminently fair, candid, and philosophical spirit which

might be expected to result from such convictions."

The Christian, then, according to the reasoning of the Rev. Mr.

Bacon, who, firmly believing in the divinity of the religion of

Christ, expresses confidence in the result of any investigation

as to the moral result of Christianity, is to be deemed a rascal

who will not hesitate to employ any unworthy arts in selecting

and adding up his figures so as to make the result come out in

accordance with a foregone conclusion. We dismiss insinuations

like this with the contempt they deserve. If we have done any

thing of this kind let it be proved; if not, do not insinuate it

to our prejudice.

3. Mr. Bacon says: "The gist of the article in _The Catholic

World_ is taken from one in _The Church and the World_,

an ultra-ritualist journal, London, 1867."

This is entirely untrue. The "criterion" of the "moral results of

the Romish system" was illegitimacy, and the "gist of the

article" is in the comparison embraced in the tabular statement

of the Roman Catholic and Protestant countries of all Europe, of

which nothing whatever has been taken from _The Church and the

World_. We cited the statistics of Ireland from this journal,

warning our readers of the fact that we could not verify it out

of the statistical journals, and therefore we did not include it

in our table, as can be seen by referring to the article itself.

Besides this, nothing is taken on the authority of _The Church

and the World_, except some statistics in relation to a side

issue, the amount of prostitution in London, and other English

cities. Mr. J. D. Chambers, M.A., Recorder of Salisbury, the

author of the article in _The Church and the World_, states

that there are 28,100 bad women in London, known to the

Metropolitan Police, while it should be, that number, in all

England, known to the Metropolitan Police.

{849}

He also gives a table of the number of houses in other English

cities _where abandoned women resort_, and this number does

not correspond at all with the number of _brothels_ reported

by the police. It seems to us that Mr. Chambers may have been

misled by the term "Metropolitan Police," in setting down the

number of abandoned women to London rather than to England,

without attributing to him any wilful falsification. And if these

women are so well known to the Metropolitan Police, it may be

inferred that, wherever they belong, they must carry on their

nefarious occupation in London a good part of the time, and thus

Mr. Chambers be substantially correct in his statement, after

all. Mr. Bacon roundly asserts that Mr. Chambers has given the

number of _brothels_ in the leading English cities. This is

incorrect, and, when the object is to fasten a brand of infamy on

another's character, an inexcusable proceeding. Mr. Chambers has

not given the number of _brothels_, but the number of

_houses_ to which bad women resort. There are many such

resorts in New York City, which would not be reported as

_brothels_ in the police returns.

We wish the public to understand this fully. Mr. Bacon accuses

Mr. Chambers of a gross exaggeration in the number of

_brothels_ in the English cities. He gives the table as

follows:

Brothels in According to CATHO. WORLD in Fact

Birmingham 966 183

Manchester 1111 410

Liverpool 1573 906

Leeds 313 63

Sheffield 433 84

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

branded as such.

Now, Mr. Chambers never stated the above number of

_brothels_ in those cities, but that number of _houses

where prostitutes resort_, a very different thing.

We find in _Thom's Almanac_ of 1869 the following table, for

England and Wales, of _houses of bad character:_

Receivers of stolen goods, 2230

Resorts of thieves and prostitutes, 5689

Brothels and houses of ill-fame, 6614

Tramps' lodging-houses, 5614

The last three figures may well be added up to give us the number

of _houses where prostitutes resort;_ the tramps'

lodging-houses, according to Mr. Kaye's description of them, (in

his _Social State of England_,) being little better than

brothels. The public may now form an intelligent judgment which

is the most guilty of misrepresentation, Mr. Bacon or Mr.

Chambers, and which most deserves to be branded as a calumniator

of his neighbor.

He thus finishes up the unlucky Mr. Chambers:

"The witness is impeached and kicked out of court with a very

ugly letter burned too deep in his forehead to be rubbed out.

We are glad to acknowledge that _The Catholic World_ is

not the guilty author of these impostures, and to express our

unfeigned and most willing belief that that every way

respectable magazine would be incapable of contriving such

tricks."

Alas Mr. Bacon! we fear that in your inconsiderate haste to brand

another, the ugly letter will be burned so deep in your own

forehead that you will find it very hard to efface it.

4. Having finished up Mr. Chambers in this style, he considers

that his refutation of _The Catholic World_ is complete. He

says:

"The figures with which _The Catholic World_ attempts to

vindicate the superior morality of Romish over Protestant

countries, are taken from a discredited and refuted writer in

_The Church and the World_... We have given facts enough

now to discredit without any particular refutation whatever

else of assertion may be contained in the article on the

'comparative morality of Catholic and Protestant countries' in

_The Catholic World _ for April, 1869. We do not need to

rebut the testimony of this article point by point."

{850}

These facts given relate exclusively to Mr. Chambers and the

statistics of prostitution, as we have shown above, and do not

affect those relating to the "criterion" of illegitimacy.

The substance--as Mr. Bacon calls it, the gist--of the article of

_The Catholic World_ remains as yet intact; it has not even

been examined by the critic. Who gave Mr. Bacon the right to say,

as he does, that the substance of our article was taken from

_The Church and the World?_ There is an unblushing

effrontery about this statement which is astonishing. There is

nothing in the article to warrant it. Whenever we quoted _The

Church and the World_, the reference is made at the foot of

the page, and we distinctly state, there, that our figures on

illegitimacy are taken from the _Journals of the Statistical

Society of London_. Our readers can judge of this proceeding

for themselves.

But Mr. Bacon criticises us in severe terms for using these

_Journals_, and says:

"If we had been in search of truth, how much easier and better

to go to the census returns, and get facts that can be trusted.

But when the object is, as with _The Catholic World_, to

find figures which shall tally with a conclusion already

determined by theological considerations, doubtless it is well

to keep clear of authoritative documents, and take only such

figures as have been manipulated in a succession of magazine

articles, constructed to serve a purpose."

What better authority can we have in this country, on statistics,

than the _Statistical Journals of London?_ It is all an idle

pretence to speak of getting the governmental returns in any

great public library. We hunted for them in the Astor Library,

and could not find one of them. The Society of London is composed

of Protestants. Mr. Lumley, the author of the principal article

on statistics, is probably one too. He has taken his information,

he tells us, in regard to Great Britain, from the Registrar's

Reports; the others, from reports made to parliament, and from

the _Annuaire de l'Economie et de la Statistique_, of Paris.

We have not a shadow of reason to doubt either the accuracy or

fairness of the returns, or that they have been taken from the

best governmental census returns. It would have been more

creditable if Mr. Bacon had favored us with a table taken from

these same returns, which he says are so easy to be obtained, to

show the "outrageous falsity" of our statements, rather than to

attempt to refute us by the method of pure insinuation.

We challenge Mr. Bacon or any one else to produce a table of

illegitimacy embracing all or nearly all the Protestant and

Catholic countries of Europe, from the latest governmental

returns, which shall differ essentially from ours, or from which

any one may not draw precisely the conclusions we have drawn in

respect to the moral results of Protestantism and Catholicity.

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

We will now explain what was stated about the rate of

illegitimacy in Ireland. Had we been inclined to proceed in the

unscrupulous manner which Mr. Bacon insinuates in regard to us,

we could have given this rate of three per cent from _The

Church and the World_ without remark, as it is simply given

there among the other figures; but as we could not verify it in

the _Statistical Journals_, we said so, in order to warn the

public, and we stated that probably Mr. Chambers had access to

the Registrar's Report, which we had not.

{851}

For this, Mr. Bacon pitches into us in this style:

"What will be the amazement of the reader to be informed that

there are no 'Registrar's Reports' for Ireland; that the Romish

priests and the Romish party have constantly succeeded in

preventing, for reasons satisfactory to themselves, any act of

parliament for securing such returns from Ireland; and that the

supposed 'Registrar's Report' of three per cent of illegitimate

births is a mere fiction!"

Hold on, Mr. Bacon! do not go ahead quite so fast. There are

Registrar's Reports for Ireland, plenty of them, to be seen in

the _Statistical Journals_ in the Astor Library. In Thom's

_Official Almanac and Directory_, Dublin, 1869, we read,

"The act for the registration of births and deaths in Ireland

came into operation on the 1st of January, 1864." Then follows

registrar's returns of these for 1864, 1865, 1866, and 1867.

The first return of illegitimate births has just been published.

Our supposition was, that these returns were in existence, though

not perhaps complete enough to warrant publication, and that they

were known in England to Mr. Chambers and others, and this seems

to be the truth. The rate for Ireland is 3.8 per cent, not so

different from the figure of _The Church and the World_. We

take the following from

the _Catholic Opinion_, London, June 19:

"Statistics Of Illegitimate Births.

"_The Scotsman_, one of the leading organs of Presbyterian

Scotland, gives the following:

"'We come next to a very painful and important point, and shall

get away from it as soon as possible. The proportion of

illegitimate births to the total number of births, is, in

Ireland, 3.8 per cent. In England, the proportion is 6.4; in

Scotland, 9.9. In other words, England is nearly twice, and

Scotland nearly thrice worse than Ireland. Something worse has

to be added, from which no consolation can be derived. The

proportion of illegitimacy is very unequally distributed over

Ireland, and the inequalities are such as are rather humbling

to us as Protestants, and still more as Presbyterians and as

Scotchmen. Takings Ireland according to registration divisions,

the proportion of illegitimate births varies from 6.2 to 1.9.

The division showing this lowest figure is the western, being

substantially the province of Connaught, where about

nineteen-twentieths of the population are Celtic and Roman

Catholic. The division showing the highest proportion of

illegitimacy is the north-eastern, which comprises or almost

consists of the province of Ulster, where the population is

almost equally divided between Protestant and Roman Catholic,

and where the great majority of the Protestants are of Scotch

blood and of the Presbyterian Church. The sum of the whole

matter is, that semi-Presbyterian and semi-Scotch Ulster is

fully three times more immoral than wholly Popish and wholly

Irish Connaught--which corresponds with wonderful accuracy to

the more general fact that Scotland, as a whole, is three times

more immoral than Ireland as a whole. There is a fact, whatever

may be the proper deduction. There is a text, whatever may be

the sermon; we only suggest that the sermon should have a good

deal about charity, self-examination, and humility."'

So that, after all, now that the truth is at last out, the

"Romish priests and the Romish party" have no reason to be

ashamed of it. Probably their reason is best known to themselves;

for it would puzzle any one else to devise any earthly reasons

why they should oppose the publication of the Registrar's Report,

so honorable to the Catholic people of Ireland.

Mr. Bacon is "happy to announce" that, as a result of the attack

of _The Catholic World_, a new edition of Seymour's book,

with its opening chapter, is soon to appear. So, all the old

calumnies and falsehoods are to be circulated with redoubled

activity, and the commandment, "Thou shalt not bear false witness

against thy neighbor," conveniently be thrust aside. The

statistics of London are to be reproduced, while those of England

are kept in the dark.

{852}

Paris is to be compared with London, to produce, as Mr. Bacon

says, "an overwhelming effect on the mind of the Protestant

reader," while not a word is to be breathed of England and

France. Five Italian cities are still to be compared with five

English, to show that the Italian Catholics are four times as

depraved as the English Protestants, while the rate of

illegitimacy in all Italy is considerably less than that of

England.

And the tell-tale official reports of the census of Scotland, of

Catholic and Protestant Prussia, are to be passed over in

complete silence. The countries of Norway, Sweden, Denmark, are

to be offset by provinces of the Austrian empire in which, as we

showed in _The Catholic World_, a grinding law of the

government hinders us from getting any real knowledge of the

statistics of illegitimacy, and while the whole empire shows a

rate smaller than any of those different countries. But we are

tired of this disgusting enumeration of the fraud and trickery of

the Rev. M. Hobart Seymour. The republication of his book cannot

hurt us, and only tends to increase the growing distrust on the

part of the public of the thousand and one calumnies so

unscrupulously circulated concerning Catholics.

We have only to add that _The New Englander_ very

appropriately finishes its article against us by bringing out a

very infamous falsehood of Mr. Seymour's about the morality of

the city of Rome, which we shall not fail to pay our respects to

in the next number of _The Catholic World_.

----------

Sick.

My brother, o my brother! how my heart,

Uncertain, sad, doth yearn for thee to-day!

And my deep soul her earnest prayer doth say,

That God not yet will loose the fearful dart;

Not yet, sweet mercy, call on thee to part,

Prepared so scantily for the long, long way;

Nor till his lamp lights with her blessed ray

The narrow line along the shadowy chart.

Dear Lord, a stranger, far away he lies,

Where fevered pestilence about him leers;

His breath the yellow death! And yet my cries

Are not for that loved body whose weak sighs

First warmed _her_ breast--'tis nine and twenty years--

The soul, poor soul 'tis needs these prayers and tears.

-------

{853}

Translated From The Spanish.

How Matanzas came to be called Matanzas.

[Footnote 200]

Or, Uncle Curro And His Club.

[Footnote 200: Matanzas signifies murders or slaughters.]

_Fernan Caballero._ Here I am, Aunt Sebastiana, with a fixed

intention to make you tell me a story.

_Aunt Sebastiana_. Say that to my Juan, señor; he can tell

no end of stories, and when he don't remember them, he makes them

to suit himself.

_Fernan_. Here comes Uncle Romance, who, if he wants a cigar

and desires to give me pleasure, will tell me the story you have

promised me in his name.

_Uncle Romance_. You must know then, señor, that there was

once a man who lived gayly, without thinking of to-morrow; and,

since to spend, to owe, and not to pay, is the way to the

poorhouse, our man soon found himself without _hacienda_,

and with but thirty days to the month for possessions, and

nothing to eat but his finger-nails. He grew so spiritless that

his wife used to beat him, and his children insult him, and say

impertinent things to him when he came home bringing no

provisions for the house.

He got so desperate at last that he borrowed a rope of his

gossip, and went away to a field to hang himself. He had fastened

the rope to an olive-tree; but just as he was going to put it

around his neck, a little fairy-man appeared to him, dressed like

a friar. "What are you doing, man?" said the friar. "Hanging

myself, as your worship sees." "So, then, Christian, you are

going to do like Judas. Go away from there. It wouldn't be well

for you. Take this purse, which is never empty, and mend your

fortune."

Our man took the purse, and drew out a dollar, then another, then

another, and saw that it was like a woman's mouth, that pours out

to all eternity words, and words, and still words, and its words

are never exhausted. Seeing this, he untied the rope, wound it

up, and started for home. There was an inn on the road; he

entered it and began to ask for whatever they had to eat and

drink, paying when it was brought; for the innkeeper, seeing him

so greedy, would not trust him for all he wanted. He ate so much

and drank so much that he fell under the table, and lay there

more sound asleep than the dead in Holyfield.

The innkeeper, who had perceived that the purse was none the

lighter, told his wife to make one just like it, and while Uncle

Curro slept, went and stole the enchanted purse out of his pocket

and put the other in its place.

When Uncle Curro woke up, he took the road again, and reached his

house more jolly than a sunshiny day.

"Hurrah!" he shouted to his wife and children, "here's money and

to spare; our troubles are over."

He put his hand into the purse and drew it out empty; put it in

again; but what was there to take out? When his wife saw that,

she flew at him and beat him into a new shape.

{854}

More desperate than ever, he snatched the rope and went back to

hang himself. He went to the same place, and tied the rope to a

branch of the olive. "What are you going to do, Christian?" said

the little fairy-man, appearing in the form of a cavalier, in the

crotch of the tree. "Hang myself like a string of garlics from a

kitchen ceiling," answered Uncle Curro quite composedly. "So you

have lost patience, again?" "And if I have nothing to eat,

señor?" "' It is your own fault, your fault; but--go away. Take

this table-cloth, and while you keep it you will never find

yourself without something to eat." Then the little fairy-man

gave him a table-cloth, and disappeared among the branches.

Uncle Curro unfolded the cloth upon the ground. The minute it was

spread out, it covered itself with dishes, some of them good and

the rest better than the king's cook could have made them, if he

had tried his best.

After Uncle Curro had stuffed himself till he could hold no more,

he gathered up the cloth and set out for his house. When he got

as far as the inn, he felt sleepy and lay down to take a nap. The

innkeeper knew him, and guessed that he had something valuable;

so, as cool as you please, he pulled the cloth away from him, and

put another in its place.

Uncle Curro reached home, and shouted to his wife and children,

"Come, come to dinner; I'll take it upon me to see that you get

your fill this time." Thereupon he undid the cloth, but only to

behold it covered with stains of all sorts and sizes.

At him she went. Mother and children all fell upon the poor man

at once, and an object of charity they left him.

Uncle Curro seized the rope once more and went off to hang

himself. He was determined to do it this time, and the fairy-man

was determined he shouldn't. He gave Uncle Curro a little club,

and told him that with it he would be able to possess his soul in

comfort; for that he had nothing to do but say, "Bestir yourself,

little club!" to make all the world run away and leave him in

peace, with a wide berth.

Uncle Curro set out for home with the club, as happy as an

alcalde with his stick. As soon as he saw the young ones coming

toward him demanding bread with insults and impertinences, he

said to the club, "Bestir yourself, little club!" and before the

words were fairly out of his mouth, it began to deal about it in

a way that speedily routed the children. Their mother ran out to

help them, but, "_At her!_" cries Curro, "_at her with all

your might!_" and with one rap the club killed her.

They gave notice to the magistrate, and presently the alcalde

made his appearance with his officers. "Bestir yourself, little

club!" ordered Curro, and the club came down on them as if it had

been paid at the rate of a dollar a thump. It killed the alcalde,

and the others ran away with such might that not one of them had

a sole left to his foot. Then they sent a messenger to let the

king know what was going on, and the king sent a regiment of

grenadiers to take Uncle Curro of the little club.

But, "Bestir yourself, club!" bawled Uncle Curro, as soon as they

came in sight, and threw the club in the midst of the files. The

club begun its dance upon the ribs of the grenadiers, with a

sound like a fulling-mill. It crippled this one's leg, and that

one's arm; knocked out one of the captain's eyes, and, in short,

the grenadiers threw away their muskets and knapsacks, and took

to their heels, in the full belief that the devil was running

loose.

{855}

Free from care, Uncle Curro lay down to sleep, with his club

hidden in his bosom, for fear that somebody might steal it.

When he awoke, he found himself tied hand and foot, and on the

way to prison. They sentenced him to ignominious death. The next

morning they took him out of the dungeon, and, when they had

caused him to ascend the scaffold, untied his hands. Out he drew

his little club, and as he said, "Bestir yourself!" threw it at

the executioner, who speedily yielded up the ghost under its

blows. "Free that man," commanded the king, "or he'll finish with

every one of our subjects. Tell him that he shall have an estate

in America if he will leave the country."

Uncle Curro consented, and the king made him lord of lands in the

island of Cuba, where he built himself a city, and killed so many

people in it with his club that its name was called, and has

remained, Matanzas.

----------

Correction Of A Mistake.

The writer of the article on "Spiritualism and Materialism," in

the Magazine for August, page 627, says, "The Holy See says the

_immateriality_, not _spirituality_, of the soul is to

be proved by reason." This is a mistake. The language of the Holy

See is, "Ratiocionatio Dei existentiam, animae

_spiritualitatem_, hominis libertatem cum certitudine

probare potest--Reasoning can prove with certainty the existence

of God, the spirituality of the soul, and the liberty of man."

The writer wishes us to say that he is wholly unable to account

for his blunder; for in writing, he had the words of the Holy See

before his eyes, and certainly thought he read

_immaterialitatem_; but in re-reading the words since a

friend called his attention to the mistake, he finds that the

word is plainly printed _spiritualitatem_. Of course the

misstatement was wholly unintentional, and whatever in the

article rests on it must be withdrawn, and the writer fully and

explicitly retracts it.

Yet the writer requests us to say that he thinks the doctrine

maintained in the article is not affected by this mistake,

blunder, or misstatement. The writer does not question the

_spirituality_ of the soul, but maintains that the soul's

spirituality, save in the sense of its immateriality, is not

provable by reason without revelation. He thinks

_immateriality_, in the sense he explains it, covers all

that is really meant by _spiritualiy_ in the decision of the

Holy See. We certainly do not, by reason alone, know what either

spirit or matter is in its essence. We can prove by reason the

substantiality, activity, unity, simplicity, indissolubility, and

immateriality of the soul, or that it is not matter. Does the

Holy See decide that we can do more, or go further? Does the

spirituality of the soul, as provable by reason, mean any thing

more? If not--and the writer, till better informed, must think it

does not--he has erred only in using one word when he should have

used another, and mistaking the word actually used by the Holy

See. So much the writer of the article wishes us to say for him,

which we do cheerfully; for we are well assured of his devotion

to the Holy See and his loyalty to the Holy Father.

----------

{856}

New Publications.

Cantarium Romanum, Pars Prima, Ordinarium Missae.

Studio et sumptibus Monachorum Ord. S. Benedicti.

Conv. St. Meinradi, Ind. 1869.

Cincinnati and New York: Benziger Bros.

This publication purposes to give, in modern notation, the

melodies of Gregorian Masses; that is, those portions which are

common to all masses--the Kyrie, Gloria, Credo, Sanctus, Agnus

Dei, with the Responses. We hail this as a step in the right

direction, but are forced to find some fault with this volume.

In the first place, we do not find the notation at all in

conformity with the Roman Gradual or Missal, and suppose that it

is according to one of those numerous "propers" which, in course

of time, have been patched up for the use of various particular

dioceses and religious orders. The spirit of the church to-day is

one which inspires a return to unity in even minor points of

discipline, of which the unity of the chant is, in our judgment,

not the least. Again, the division of the words, their adaptation

to the notes, and the length of notes given, makes horrible work

in some places with the accent of the Latin, and destroys the

majestic march of the melody. The effeminate sharp reigns

supreme, and fancy responses take the place of those given in the

Missal.

----

Meditations On The Sufferings, Life,

And Death Of Our Lord Jesus Christ.

Translated from the French by a Sister of Mercy.

Part First.

Cincinnati: Robert Clarke & Co. 1869.

This is a very excellent book of meditations, well translated,

and published in the best style; to be completed in thirteen

numbers. The proceeds are to be devoted to the building of a

church annexed to the Convent of the Sisters of Mercy, in

Cincinnati, to be called "The Church of the Atonement," and to be

devoted especially to the adoration of the Sacred Heart of our

Lord, in reparation of the injuries and outrages which it suffers

from the neglect of tepid Christians and the more open sins of

the wicked. The book is one which will be very useful to those

who desire to practise meditation, and the object to which the

good sisters intend to devote the profits, which we hope they may

receive from it abundantly, is one that must commend itself to

the heart of every good Catholic. We give them our best wishes

for their complete success, and recommend their book most

heartily to general circulation.

----

An American Woman In Europe.

By Mrs. S. R. Urbino.

Boston: Lee & Shepard.

A journal of two years and a half sojourn in Germany,

Switzerland, France, and Italy, in only 338 duodecimo pages, is,

as things go and as people write, really very moderate. It is a

simple, straightforward story of what the authoress saw and

heard, with a variety of practical information that many

Americans on a first European tour might find useful.

There is no affectation of style or sentiment in the book, and

the authoress may be said to belong to the realistic school of

travellers, who keep a bright lookout for railroad fares, hotel

bills, and the prices of things in general.

With disquisitions on art, Mrs. Urbino does not trouble us much,

although she admires the works of that queen of Jarleys, Madame

Tussaud, whose name she ungratefully prints Trousseau. At p. 228,

the authoress indulges in this reflection: "How out of place

crosses look in the Coliseum!

{857}

I cannot see why they were put there, since there are a

sufficient number of churches in the city." The good lady does

not appear to be aware of the fact that if the cross had not been

placed in the Coliseum, we people of the nineteenth century would

never have seen the noble ruin of that grand monument.

----

Service Manual;

for the instruction of newly-appointed Officers, and the Rank

and File of the Army, as compiled from Army Regulations, the

Articles of War, and the Customs of the Service.

By Henry D. Wallen, Brevet Brigadier-General United States

Army, and Commander of the General Service Department, Fort

Columbus, New York Harbor.

1 vol. 8vo, pp. 166.

New York: D. Van Nostrand. 1869.

General Wallen has compiled this excellent manual from the

authorized sources, and added to it the fruit of his mature

experience and intimate practical knowledge of the subject. The

work possesses value, not only as an authentic guide to the young

officer in all the details of company, camp, and garrison duty,

his relations of subordination and responsibility, and his duties

and obligations to those above and below him in the military

order, but also is mellowed and animated by a spirit of kindness

and good-will, and that genuine characteristic of the good

soldier and thorough gentleman to whom duty is honorable, and

both command and obedience acceptable for their own sakes and the

inherent virtue they imply. This spirit animates this work

throughout, and gives to it a character far superior to ordinary

dry regulations. General Wallen is well qualified for the task he

has undertaken. He is an old and faithful officer, and intimately

acquainted with the service in all its branches and

ramifications. He served with credit in the war with Mexico, and

was one of the pioneers of the settlement of Oregon. Owing to the

fact of having been born in Georgia, General Wallen was

distrusted during the late war by Mr. Stanton, and ordered to New

Mexico. General Grant, who is his life-long friend, as soon as he

came into power, ordered him to the East, and did what he could

to repair the injury he had experienced from the suspicious

disposition of the late secretary of war.

This work is of equal value to soldiers and officers, and will

have a tendency to promote that mutual goodwill and cordial

sympathy between the two classes growing out of the faithful

performance of their respective duties, which we alone need to

make our military system perfect, and absolutely invincible in

war, as well as an example of honor and fidelity in peace.

----

A Report On The Excisions Of The

Head Of The Femur For Gun Shot Wounds.

By George A. Otis, M.D.,

Assistant Surgeon and Brevet Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A.

Being Circular No. 2 War Department,

Surgeon-General's Office.

Jan. 1869. 4to, pp. 141.

Washington: Government Printing Office.

It is not our purpose, in calling the attention of the readers of

_The Catholic World_ to this work, to enter upon any

discussion or details of a purely surgical character, which would

be obviously out of place. _The Catholic World_ is

essentially _Catholic_, and while strictly and purely so,

aims to embrace within the scope of its critical observation

every subject of interest and importance to society; and

especially to award its cordial praise to those efforts which

have for their object genuine science, true humanity, and

national and individual honor and intellectual and moral

advancement.

The work before us is of the character indicated. In reverting to

the public calamities and private miseries of the late war, it is

a matter of satisfaction to know that out of the eater has come

forth some meat; out of the strong, some sweetness.

{858}

With the exception of the doubtful advantage of the knowledge

which we have gained of our brute strength, some improvement in

gunnery, and the familiarization of the public mind with battle,

murder, and sudden death, we have reaped no substantial benefit

excepting in the department of military surgery. The medical

profession gave during the war an extraordinary example of

courage, devotion to duty, labor, and self-sacrifice, which we

fear is not fully appreciated either by the country or the

government. They rose as a body above the political issues

involved, and the personal passions evoked, and, acting on the

great principle of charity underlying their vocation, saw, in

many a sick and wounded man, a friend and brother.

This principle was acted upon on both sides, it was the most

humanizing element which entered into the conflict, and aided and

seconded the chivalric spirit which animated the graduates of

West Point. These two qualities redeemed the late war from utter

barbarism.

There was, on the part of the medical officers, an earnest,

conscientious, and zealous determination to ascertain the best

methods of treatment in all cases, and an ardent desire to

relieve suffering, save life, and preserve limbs in the best

possible condition for future usefulness. The publications of the

Medical Department and the admirable museum collected at

Washington bear testimony to the accuracy of this statement, and,

while they are a terrible and sickening commentary on man's

inhumanity to man, they are also a sublime and beautiful

illustration of that power which turns temporary calamities into

permanent benefits, and of that humanity and science which are

both motives and objects of the profession of medicine.

The reports issued from time to time by the surgeon-general are

the concentrated and distilled expression of multitudes of crude

and detached observations, carefully elaborated, compared,

analyzed, and corrected, till they come to express the precise

knowledge and experience of the present day on a given subject.

The portion of this great work before us is prepared by Doctor

George A. Otis, Assistant Surgeon and Lieutenant-Colonel U.S.A.,

and is a model of patient labor, exact knowledge, just

discrimination, and acutely intelligent appreciation. It presents

all that is known in regard to a class of terrible and

exceedingly fatal injuries. The facts, evidence, and opinions are

carefully and impartially weighed and estimated, and the

conclusions are such as will be accepted by every discriminating

surgeon throughout the world.

The voice of the medical profession will, we believe, endorse the

opinion which we somewhat apodictically express.

Society and the country owe Doctor Otis a debt of gratitude for

his great work, and also the medical bureau which aids and

directs his labors. Such works belong to the class of benefits

whose value cannot be expressed by human standards. They reflect

honor upon the age and country which produce them, and are an

invaluable legacy to the future.

We cannot conclude this imperfect notice without expressing the

hope that Congress, influenced by the universal sentiment of the

country, will give all the material aid required to the

Surgeon-General's Department in prosecuting its great and most

fruitful labors.

----

Silver Jubilee Of The University

Of Notre Dame, June 23d, 1869.

Compiled and published

by Joseph A. Lyons, A.M.

Chicago: E. B. Myers & Co.

This is a tastefully gotten-up volume, designed as a "memorial"

tribute to the students, past and present, of the University of

Notre Dame, in Northern Indiana, on the occasion of the

celebration of the twenty-fifth or _silver_ anniversary of

the corporate existence of that now large, flourishing, and

important Catholic institution of learning. It gives a brief but

interesting history of the university, from its humble

beginnings, a quarter of a century since, under the zealous and

effective labors of the Very Rev. Father Sorin and his

well-chosen and able co-workers, to its present wide and ample

proportions.

{859}

This is followed by an account of its internal economy or

arrangements; its study, discipline, and amusements; its

societies--religious, literary, and others; its library, museum,

etc., etc. Sketches are also given of the lives of its

presidents, vice-presidents, professors, and teachers, as well as

of its alumni, with a full account of the exercises of its recent

_Jubilee_ commencement. Altogether, the volume must prove a

very interesting and acceptable one to the numerous graduates,

pupils, and friends of Notre Dame.

----

Nora Brady's Vow, And

Mona The Vestal.

By Mrs. Anna H. Dorsey.

Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1869.

The first of these stories is of modern times, and the other is

of the time of St. Patrick. Mrs. Dorsey, like all writers not to

the _Irish manner_ born, makes fearful work with what some

persons are pleased to call the _Irish brogue_. This is,

however, a small fault, with which we do not wish to quarrel. The

stories are presented to the public in a beautifully printed and

elegantly bound volume, and will, we doubt not, be welcomed in

many an Irish-American household.

----

The Way Of Salvation,

in Meditations for all times in the year.

By St. Alphonsus Liguori.

Translated from the Italian by the Rev. James Jones.

New York: Catholic Publication Society,

126 Nassau St.

One of the best signs of the present time, and a sign most

encouraging to Catholics of all classes and professions, is that

books of genuine piety are more and more in demand every day. It

was this fact that induced the Catholic Publication Society to

bring out in a neat and very convenient form the celebrated

_Way of Salvation_, by St. Liguori. It is one of the most

popular works of that sainted author; and the mere announcement

of its publication is sufficient recommendation.

----

The Two Schools. A Moral Tale.

By Mrs. Hughs.

New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1869.

This book presents in a striking manner the results of two

systems of home education. In it we have a vivid picture of the

consequences of wealth, recklessly lavished on an only daughter,

contrasted with the encouraging way in which the virtue of a

much-injured girl triumphs over the designs of base and cunning

enemies. The authoress possesses a happy talent of describing

persons in an easy and remarkably concise style, and she succeeds

in causing her characters to act and speak in a natural manner.

The book will be read, by girls especially, with the keenest

enjoyment. The conduct of Mary will seldom fail to draw forth

their approval, and all readers will agree that this is a good

story.

----

A German Reader.

In Prose and Verse.

With Notes and Vocabulary.

By William D. Whitney.

New York: Leypoldt & Holt.

The text of this Reader has at length reached us; and in regard

to accuracy, arrangement, and clearness of type it is all that

can be desired. The selections are very good, although many of

them have already done service in German educational works.

Originality is only claimed for the vocabulary and notes, which

have not yet been published, so that we may only remark that the

volume will enjoy a very high reputation, if the forthcoming part

be prepared with the same attention that has been devoted to the

text.

----

The Poetical Works Of Samuel Lover.

London and New York: George Routledge & Sons.

A most beautiful edition of the beautiful songs of Lover, written

mostly, as all know, about love and lovers. Yet not all. We are

indebted to him for many charming ballads, of sweetest melody and

deepest pathos, to which indeed Lover owes his fame as a poet.

----

{860}

The Irish Widow's Son;

Or, The Pikemen Of Ninety-eight.

A story of the Irish Rebellion, embracing an historical account

of the Battles of Antrim and Ballinahinch.

By. Con O'Leary.

Boston: P. Donahoe. 1869.

This book is interesting, and free from the coarseness which is

found in so many stories of Ireland. The author has succeeded in

producing a readable tale of that epoch in Ireland's history when

secret associations became the controlling power of that

misgoverned country.

----

Essay On Divorce And Divorce Legislation,

with special reference to the United States.

By Theodore D. Woolsey, D.D., LL.D.,

President of Yale College.

New York: Charles Scribner & Co. 1869.

This book, by one of the first scholars of our country, is a very

learned and laudable effort to effect a reform in our divorce

legislation. It would require a long and elaborate article to do

justice to the work and the subject. At present we can only say

that the community ought to thank Dr. Woolsey for the labor he

has performed in their service, and which he has done as well as

it can be done by one who stands on the Protestant platform.

----

THE CATHOLIC PUBLICATION SOCIETY has in preparation, and will

publish early in October, _The Illustrated Catholic Family

Almanac_ for 1870. It will contain the astronomical tables,

calendars, a great amount of valuable statistics, as well as

several well-written sketches of places and things in various

countries. It will be illustrated with over twenty splendid

wood-cuts, and will be sold for 25 cents per copy. Orders from

the trade should be sent in at once.

P. O'SHEA, New York, has in press, and

will publish this season,

Lacordaire's _Sketch of the Order of St. Dominic;_

_Memoir, Journal, and Correspondence of Mrs. Seton,_

by Mgr. Seton, in 2 vols. 8vo;

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

Library of Good Examples, 12 vols.

John Murphy & Co., Baltimore, announce _A Memoir of the Life

and Character of the Rev. Demetrius Augustin de Gallitzin,

Founder of Loretto and Catholicity in Cambria County, Pa.,

Apostle of the Alleghanies._ By Very Rev. Thomas Heyden, of

Bedford, Pa.

Patrick Donahoe, Boston, has in

press

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

_Five Years in a Protestant Sisterhood,

and Ten Years in a Catholic Convent;_

and a _Life of Christopher Columbus._

Kelly, Piet & Co., Baltimore,

announce the republication of the

Roman periodical,

_Acta ex Iis decerpta quae apud Sanctam Sedem geruntur.

The Double Sacrifice: a tale of Castelfidardo.

The Life of Madame Louise de France, Daughter

of Louis XV., in religion Mother

Terese de St. Augustin. The Day

Sanctified_; being meditations and

spiritual readings for daily use.

_Popular Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.

_Moral Tales_. By Maria Edgeworth.

-------