But the café reminds us that we are leaving Paris in old times for the

Paris of the present, and that we are close upon that blood-written page,

the revolution, which divides the chronicles of the former from those of

the latter. These notes must not be brought to a conclusion without the

acknowledgment that from M. Malte-Brun's laborious compilation, La France

Illustrée, they derive whatever archaeological interest they possess.

------

Original.

The Churches of Ireland--Ancient and Modern.

Students of Irish topography are sometimes at a loss to account for so many

names of places in that island bearing the prefix "Kil." The explanation of

this seeming want of inventive nomenclature is that the word Kil is an

abbreviation or corruption of the vernacular _Cill_, a church; thus,

Kilkenny means the church of St. Canice, or Kenny; Kilmore, the great

church, _more_ meaning, in the Irish, great or large; Kildare, church

of the oak, from _daire_, oak. In the early ages of Christianity the

church or abbey was to the people of Ireland what the feudal castle or

walled town was to the inhabitants of the continent of Europe, at once a

rallying point in case of danger, and a common centre where learning,

trade, and the mechanical arts found teachers and patrons.

The Irish, before and long after their conversion, were essentially an

agricultural people, caring little for large towns; and, though insular,

seem to have neglected foreign commerce, except such as flowed from their

periodical incursions in Britain and Gaul, or which necessarily arose out

of their emigration from the north of Ireland to Scotland. Hence we find

that, while most of the inland cities and towns bear the name of some

favorite saint or church, the seaports generally owe their origin and name

to the Danes and Anglo-Normans.

{829}

The first Catholic churches erected in Ireland, of which we have any

authentic account, were three in number, built in the present counties of

Wicklow and Wexford, by Palladius, A.D. 430. It seems that this missionary

landed on the Wexford coast in that year, accompanied by four priests, but,

having met with opposition from the Druids and persecution from the local

chiefs, he returned the following year to Britain, leaving, however, behind

him some converts under the care of two of his assistants. We are told by

the annalists that, before his departure, he deposited in the church of

Cellfine, some relics of Sts. Peter and Paul and other saints, the sacred

books, and his own writing-tablets, all of which were preserved with great

veneration for many years afterward.

But the great church planter in Ireland was Patrick, the son of Potitus,

who commenced his task of a nation's conversion, with all the advantages of

a personal knowledge of the people and their language, a matured judgment,

profound learning, piety chastened by exile and long-suffering, and an

unconquerable faith. His first convert after landing, in 432, was a chief

named Dicho, who in proof of his sincerity built, at his own expense, a

church near Lecale, in Down, which was called _Sabhall Padruic_,

(Patrick's Barn.) Thence the saint proceeded to Tara, in Meath, where, as

it is well known, he appeared before the monarch Leogaire, and, though his

preaching made no impression on the heart of that stern pagan, he baptized

many of the Druids, poets, and courtiers. By St. Patrick's direction two

churches were built in the neighborhood, one at Drumcondrah, and the other

at Drumshallon, near the present town of Drogheda. Having thus stormed the

enemy's citadel, he advanced confidently to capture the outworks. He passed

westward through Connaught to the sea; thence returning to Ulster, he spent

some time in Down, Antrim, Ardmagh, and other northern counties; he next

visited the different parts of Leinster, and finally entered the populous

province of Munster, then a separate kingdom, and planted the standard of

the cross in the royal city of Cashel. He remained about seven years in

Munster, when, his mission having been successfully completed, he retraced

his steps to his favorite place in Down, in 452. Three years afterward he

founded the metropolitan see of Armagh, erected a cathedral on land given

him for that purpose by Daire, and thus laid the foundation of the primacy

of Ireland, and the city of that name. "Suitable edifices were annexed to

the cathedral for the accommodation of the clergy, and adjacent to it were

several religious retreats, in which members of both sexes, forsaking the

world, made a sacrifice of all to the Great Author of their existence."

[Footnote 300]

[Footnote 300: Ecclesiastical History of Ireland, Brenan.]

The extraordinary success of this great missionary is without a parallel in

the history of the church. In the course of twenty years a whole people,

rulers and princes, men and women, were won over to Christianity, without

the shedding of a drop of human blood, or even any serious opposition. Sees

were founded in all parts of the island, churches and monasteries built,

bishops consecrated and priests ordained, and, in fact, the moral and

social condition of the entire population revolutionized. Nor was this a

triumph over weak-minded or stolid barbarians, for we find that from his

neophytes St. Patrick chose his bishops and priests almost exclusively--men

whose genius and ability became in the service of the church second only to

his own. It might also be supposed that impressions so suddenly produced

would be transitory, did we not know how irradicably fixed in the Irish

heart is the faith he taught and the doctrine he expounded.

The sees of Ardagh, Clogher, Emly, and Elphin were founded during the

life-time of St. Patrick, and fifteen others of lesser note before the

close of the century.

{830}

The cathedral of Kildare, second only in extent and magnificence to that of

Armagh, was built about the year 490, and belonged jointly to the diocesan

and the nunnery of St. Brigid. It is described as having been divided by a

partition beyond the sanctuary; the bishop and clergy entering the church

by a door on the north, and the abbess and her community by a door on the

south side. In all the sees thus founded, cathedrals, churches,

monasteries, schools, and nunneries were erected. History records the

building of twenty-one monasteries and schools of great celebrity in the

fifth century, besides many others of minor reputation. The schools of Emly

at one time contained six hundred scholars; those of Louth are said to have

educated one hundred bishops and three hundred priests, while the great

institution of Mungret contained within its walls six churches, and,

besides its scholars, fifteen hundred religious, equally divided into

learned preachers, psalmists, and persons devoted to contemplation and

works of charity. At this time, also, St. Brigid founded several nunneries,

the most celebrated of which was that of Kildare.

The following century saw seventeen more sees founded and cathedrals built,

including those of Dromore, Ossory, Tuam, Clonfert, and Down; while, to

meet the growing demand for Christian education, four principal colleges

were erected in different parts of the kingdom--Clonard in Meath, Clonfert

in Galway, Clonmacnois in Kings county, and Bangor in Down. The number of

students educated in the last mentioned was at one time not less than three

thousand. Forty-four new monasteries and abbeys are named in the annals of

the sixth century, besides many others forgotten in history. Even the place

whereon stood the famous monastery of Inniscathy, established at the mouth

of the Shannon at this period, is now only marked by a small portion of the

ruins of its round tower, while that of Glendaloch, perhaps from its

romantic surroundings, is somewhat better preserved. Speaking of the ruins

of the latter as seen some years since, the learned author of the

Ecclesiastical History of Ireland says:

"The venerable ruins of Glendaloch, even at this day, present an awful

and an interesting picture to the mind of the curious and contemplative

stranger. Among these must be noticed the church of the Trinity, standing

on a rising ground north of the abbey. The seven churches, which in

former days were the pride and glory of Glendaloch, and for which it will

be celebrated even when the vestiges now remaining are no more. The

Cathedral church, with its curious doors, jambs and lintels, and its

round tower, one hundred and ten feet high, rising up in its ancient

grandeur amidst the prostrate ruins which surround it. Our Lady's church,

the most westward of the seven, and nearly opposite the cathedral, is in

ruins; but these very ruins speak volumes, and the scattered monuments,

crosses, and inscriptions refresh the memory, and fill the mind with new

and painful thoughts. St. Kevin's kitchen, so called, and undoubtedly one

of the seven churches, is entire; together with its architraves, fretted

arches, and round belfry, forty-five feet high. The finger of time alone

and of human neglect seem to have wrought the work of desolation in this

part of the building. The Rhefeart, or the Sepulchre of Kings, is

rendered famous for having seven kings interred within its walls. The Ivy

church stands to the westward, with its unroofed walls overgrown with

ivy. The Priory of St. Saviour is a complete ruin. Tampull-na-Skellig, in

the recess of the mountain, was formerly called the Temple of the Desert,

and whither the austere fathers of the abbey were wont to retire on

vigils and days of particular mortification. The celebrated bed of St.

Kevin, on the south side of the lough, and hanging perpendicularly at a

frightful height over the surface of the waters, is another object in

which the mind of the antiquary would be much gratified; and on the same

side of the mountain are to be seen the remains of a small stone

building, called St. Kevin's cell."

The next two centuries added Ferns, Cork, Killaloe, and eleven other sees,

with their cathedrals and churches, and fifty-five principal schools,

monasteries, and abbeys. During the ninth and tenth centuries we find only

two sees created, and no mention of additional monasteries or schools. This

may be accounted for by the continual incursions of the Northmen, a swarm

of barbarians whose native element seems to have been the ocean and whose

only end and object were bloodshed and rapine.

{831}

From 807 until the decisive battle of Clontarf in 1012, they perpetrated an

uninterrupted series of raids on Ireland, and even sometimes held the

larger portion of the country in subjection. Landing from their ships at

remote and undefended points on the coast, they marched stealthily into the

interior, marking their paths with the blood of the defenceless

inhabitants, sparing neither age, sex, nor condition in their fury, and

bearing off or destroying every species of property. Churches were given to

the flames, the relics of the saints stolen or scattered to the winds,

monks, nuns, and students put to the sword without mercy or remorse. In one

of those incursions Bangor was plundered and nine hundred monks

slaughtered. Armagh was sacked and its cathedral destroyed. Cork, Ferns,

and Taghmon shared the same fate, while the city of Kildare, its cathedral

and nunnery were razed, and their inhabitants massacred or carried into

slavery. Clonmacnois was thirteen times plundered, and scarcely a religious

house on the island but received at least one visit from the sacrilegious

invaders.

After a long and brilliant career an eclipse seemed to have fallen on the

church in Ireland, her monasteries were in ruins, her priesthood

slaughtered, and her schools deserted. But the genius of one great man was

put forth to save the people. Brian, surnamed Boroimhe, King of Munster,

and monarch of Ireland, after repeated victories drove the Danes out of his

kingdom, and, finally, by his last great battle, destroyed their power for

ever in Ireland. The remnant of the once dreaded enemy, embracing the faith

of their conquerors, were permitted, upon paying tribute, to settle along

the coast for the purpose of foreign traffic. This great king during his

long reign did much to reinstate the church in possession of her property,

and to repair the damages of two centuries of organized plunder, and his

successors continued to follow his example. Even the converted Danes

imbibed the prevailing spirit of restitution. The see of Dublin was

established in 1040, and its cathedral, consecrated to the Holy Trinity,

(now Christ's church,) was built by Bishop Donatus. The see of Waterford

was founded in 1096, and its splendid cathedral, also under the invocation

of the Holy Trinity, erected by Malchus, its first bishop; and the

celebrated priory of Selsker, in Wexford, was established by the new

converts some few years afterward. The see of Ardfert was founded in the

middle of the eleventh century, and that of Derry about one hundred years

subsequently.

It is reasonable to infer that most of the early Irish ecclesiastical

structures of any magnitude were of wood, with perhaps a stone tower or

stronghold to serve as a depository for sacred vessels, libraries, etc.,

and for defence in case of actual attack. Dr. Petrie, in his great book on

Round Towers, produces convincing proofs that these curious specimens of

architecture, some seventy of which still remain more or less well

preserved, were intended for these purposes. Ireland at the time of Saint

Patrick was densely wooded, oak being predominant, and where so many

extensive buildings had to be erected in so limited a time no more

convenient and suitable, though certainly very destructible, material could

be used. This, as well as the ravages of time and foreign invasion, will

explain the fact that so many of the sites of our primitive edifices are

recognized only by local tradition. The art of building in stone was indeed

known in the country before the introduction of Christianity, but it was

not generally applied to church purposes till about the beginning of the

twelfth century.

When Cormac McCulinan was appointed to the see of Cashel, it is recorded

that he built a cathedral in that city in the latter part of the ninth

century, which, according to the annals of the priory of the Island of all

Saints, was not long after rebuilt and consecrated with great ceremony.

{832}

Whether the beautiful ruin now called Cormac's chapel owes its origin to

the warrior bishop or to a successor of the same name is a mooted question

among antiquarians, as the records of the succession in this diocese are

very imperfect. However, it must have been erected at an early age, for we

find that in 1170 Donald O'Brian, King of North Munster, built the

cathedral of St. Patrick in his royal city of Cashel, and the former church

of Cormac was converted into a chapter-house, on the south side of the

choir. Bishop O'Heden in 1420 repaired and beautified St. Patrick's and

erected a hall for the vicars choral. In the same year that Donal O'Brian

built St. Patrick's he also caused to be constructed the beautiful

cathedral of St. Mary's in Limerick, endowing it liberally, and it existed

in great splendor until the Reformation, when it shared the general fate of

all such noble institutions.

The cathedral of St. Patrick, in Down, was rebuilt on the site of the old

one by St. Malachy in 1138, and forty years afterward was enlarged by one

of his successors and a namesake. About this time it was dedicated to St.

Patrick, having been formerly consecrated to the Most Holy Trinity, a

favorite name, it would appear, for cathedrals in the early centuries of

Christianity.

St. Mary's, at Tuam, was built in 1152, by O'Connor, King of Ireland, and

Bishop O'Hoisin, the first archbishop of that see; in 1260 it was enlarged

and a new choir added. Finally, it was given over by Henry VIII. to an

apostate named Bodkin.

St. Columba's, in Derry, was built in 1164, by King Maurice MacLaughlin. It

also had to succumb to the reformers who settled in Ulster, and the present

Protestant cathedral of that town was built on its ruins, by the "London

Company," in 1633.

The majestic cathedral of Kilkenny, dedicated to St. Canice, was commenced

in 1178, by Bishop Felix O'Dullany, and was finished by Bishop St. Leger in

1286. Some years later it was altered and beautified by Bishop Ledred, and

at the time of the Reformation was considered one of the most beautifully

situated buildings in Europe.

The cathedral of the Holy Trinity, in Waterford, was built about the

beginning of the eleventh century. Its subsequent fate is thus related by a

recent Protestant writer: [Footnote 301]

[Footnote 301: Ireland and her Churches, by James Godkin.]

"The old cathedral, or rather the oldest part of the first cathedral of

Waterford, was built in 1096, by the Ostmen, on their' conversion from

paganism; and about two centuries later it was endowed by King John, a

dean and chapter having been appointed under the sanction of Innocent

III. Endowments of various kinds had accumulated from age to age, till

the Reformation, when the old altars were thrown down and the ornaments

defaced. During the rebellions and wars that followed, its most costly

treasures were carried away, with the brass ornaments of the tombs, the

great standing pelican which supported the Bible, the immense

candlesticks, six or seven feet high, the great brazen font, which was

ascended by three stairs made of solid brass, and various gold and

silver-gilt vessels. In 1773 the dean and chapter pronounced the old

building so much decayed as to be unsafe for public worship, and

unfortunately resolved that the whole pile should be taken down and

replaced by a new edifice."

It will be seen that some of those lasting monuments of Irish skill and

piety were raised subsequent to the English invasion, but the advent of the

Norman soldiers was destined soon to dry up the springs of public

munificence, if not to exterminate the old race, and obliterate the faith

of St. Patrick. The Anglo-Norman of the twelfth century, though professing

Christianity, was at heart as much a pagan as the race from which he

sprung. He was brave, cunning, cruel, and rapacious. His greediness could

not withstand any inducement to plunder, even though sacrilege had to be

added to robbery; and he generally had courage and skill enough to carry

out his intentions. He was neither an Englishman nor a Frenchman, but a

compound of elements common to the worst classes of both races,

super-induced on the genuine, old northern barbarism. He was, in fact, the

prototype of the modern filibuster, and, though given to fighting,

preferred the spoils to the glory of warfare.

{833}

Like most of his class in every age and country, he substituted

superstition for religion, and became only generous of his goods when death

threatened to snatch them from his grasp. When reduced to Protestantism by

act of parliament, it is unnecessary to say that even the check of remorse,

weak as it was, was removed, and the spoliation of gifts given to God and

his poor sat as lightly on his conscience as his coronet or crown sat on

his head. Consequently, from the landing of Strongbow and his friends until

the Reformation, the wars which ensued against the natives were

occasionally diversified by the plunder of a rich abbey, or the burning of

a church, while now and then we read of an institution being founded by

some repentant lord of the Pale, from which all "mere Irish" were excluded.

There were, indeed, a few men who came into Ireland in the track of its

invaders, who were men of true piety. Among these may be classed John

Cornin, archbishop of Dublin. It was he who, in 1190, built St. Patrick's

collegiate church in that city, and repaired and beautified Holy Trinity;

St. Lawrence O'Toole having, eighteen years before, added to its original

dimensions by building a choir, belfry, and three chapels. Those two noble

buildings are still in use by the Protestants of Dublin, and but little

changed since their Catholic days. St. Patrick's has been renovated and

improved through the liberality of a public-spirited merchant. Though ever

dear to the Catholic hearts of Dublin for its old memories; its fame, since

it has fallen into the possession of its present occupants, rests only in

its association with the name of the gifted and eccentric Swift, whose

flashes of wit and sly sarcasms were wont to arouse his drowsy

congregation.

Notwithstanding the impoverished condition of the people, and the

insecurity of life and property, during the wars of the twelfth,

thirteenth, fourteenth, and early part of the fifteenth centuries, we find

the following religious houses established throughout the country: Priories

of the Canons Regular of St. Augustin, 20; abbeys of the Cistercian order,

29; convents of the Dominican order, 23; of the Franciscan order, 56; of

the Augustan order, 21; of the Carmelite order, 24; commanderies of Knights

Templar, 11. This latter order was suppressed about the middle of the

fourteenth century, and its property given to the Hospitallers.

But a new era now commenced in the history of the church. To the bitterness

of national hate were to be added bloody persecution and wholesale

confiscation. Henry VIII. had commenced his quarrel with the pope, and,

with the vain intention of revenging himself on his holiness, he turned

reformer, initiated a state religion, and unanimously elected himself head

of the same. But Henry Tudor had method in his madness, and knew well that

the best way to convert his Anglo-Irish subjects was by appealing to their

old passion for plunder. Accordingly, his lord deputy, St. Ledger, in 1536,

summoned, what was in that age called a parliament, and this assembly,

representing nobody but the hirelings about the deputy, with one fell swoop

confiscated three hundred and seventy monasteries and abbeys, whose yearly

value amounted to £32,000, while their movables amounted to more than three

times that amount. A year or two later all religious houses were suppressed

and their property turned over to the king.

That this atrocious spoliation of the patrimony of the church and the

property of the poor had not even the pretext of being perpetrated to

replenish the treasury of an impoverished, state may be inferred from the

words of Ware, who, in his life of this new Defender of the Faith, says:

"Henry soon after disposed of the possessions of the religious orders to

his nobles, courtiers, and others, reserving to himself certain revenue or

annual rents."

{834}

This exhibition of royal magnificence at once convinced the aforesaid

"nobles and courtiers" that Henry was the veritable Head of the Church, not

only in England, but in Ireland also, and they hastened to accept his gifts

and his new religion with equal alacrity. The cathedrals and churches had

now to be disposed of. That portion of the laity described as nobles and

courtiers was well provided for, and the clergy had to be satisfied; a new

religion, Henry wisely thought, would not look well without churches and a

hierarchy. Pliant tools of the school of Cranmer and Cromwell were sent

over from England, who shielded by the military power of the deputy, and

aided by a few apostates of native growth, were fraudulently inducted into

Irish sees. While Brown, who had become archbishop of Dublin, was burning

in the public streets the sacred image of our crucified Redeemer, taken

from the abbey of Ballibogan, and the crosier of St. Patrick, rifled from

Holy Trinity; the lord deputy was "gutting" the old cathedral of Down,

violating the graves of Ireland's three greatest saints, and destroying

their sacred relics. As these acts did not bring enlightenment to the minds

of the benighted Catholics, a more general system of devastation was

adopted. All the churches were seized and their sacred vessels and

ornaments appropriated as legitimate spoils, by the "reformed clergy,"

while such of the buildings as were not required for the preachers of the

new evangel were converted into barracks or stables. The people, though

decimated and dispirited by long and disastrous wars, were too much

attached to the ancient faith not to resist those iniquitous proceedings;

but fire, sword, famine, and pestilence pursued them everywhere, martyred

their priests, and laid their homes and their fields desolate.

What Henry commenced, his son, and worthy daughter Elizabeth, followed up;

Cromwell's troopers nearly left the country a desert; and the vacillating

and treacherous Stuarts added, if possible, to its already degraded

condition. So abject was the state of the population in the time of William

of Orange, that his penal laws, and those of the house of Hanover

subsequently enacted, though in themselves most atrocious, were

comparatively harmless, so well had the scythe of persecution been wielded

by their predecessors. Even as late as the middle of the last century, the

Catholics, still the bulk of the population, were sunk in the most pitiful

misery and prostration; their priests churchless and outcasts before the

laws, their monks and nuns banished or fled the country; or, if any

remained of the once splendid institutions of piety and charity, they were

to be found secreted in the purlieus of the larger towns, stealthily

attending the sick and consoling, if unable to relieve, the wants of the

poor. "No places of public worship were permitted," says the author of the

History of Dublin, "and the clergyman moved his altar-books and everything

necessary for the celebration of his religious rites from house to house

among such of his flock as were enabled in this way to support an itinerant

domestic chaplain; while for the poorer part some waste house or stable in

a remote or retired situation was selected, and here the service was

silently and secretly performed, unobserved by the public eye." Indeed, in

many counties the people suffered worse; children were unbaptized, men and

women unmarried, the dying deprived of the last consolations of religion,

and the poor and infirm left to the cold charity of an unfeeling and

hostile minority. The force of persecution could go no further. The

experiment of conversion by force had been tried with a vengeance, and had

signally failed. It was evident that utter extermination or reaction must

follow.

Fortunately for the honor of humanity it was the latter. God was with his

people in their afflictions and hearkened to their prayers. Slowly the

light of toleration broke upon the darkened minds of the dominant

Protestant party, and, though but the merest glimmer at first, gradually

and steadily gained in intensity.

{835}

One hundred and twenty years ago the first chapel tolerated by law was

publicly opened in Dublin; the more atrocious of the penal laws fell into

disuse; chapels, poor indeed, and monasteries, feeble in their very sense

of insecurity, commenced to raise their humble heads. Protestant gentlemen

of liberal views found a voice in the Irish and English parliaments.

Maynooth and Carlow colleges were established; a great and fearless

Catholic, O'Connell, arrayed his coreligionists in solid phalanx in defence

of their rights; and, finally, the British government, abashed at the scorn

of Christendom, and yielding to fears of internal revolution, consented to

emancipation. Of the many causes which led to this tardy act of justice the

moral effect of religious freedom in the United States and the conduct of

our Catholic immigrants during the revolution were not among the least

effective.

Turning from the past with all its varied trials and defeats, it is

pleasant to dwell on the condition of Catholic Ireland of to-day, with its

churches, monasteries, colleges, and schools innumerable. Of the city of

Dublin, where the Reformation made its first attacks, and where, at the

beginning of the century, there were but a few poor chapels and "friaries,"

we find the following picture drawn by one who, though not a Catholic nor

of Catholic sympathies, is too clear-minded to shut his eyes to the actual

condition of affairs around him. He says: [Footnote 302]

[Footnote 302: Ireland and Her Churches. By James Godkin. This very

able book has just been published in England, and, though written by a

Protestant and a devoted believer in the opinions of that sect, is full

of very valuable information regarding the present condition of the

Catholics of Ireland.]

"There are now thirty-two churches and

chapels in Dublin and its vicinity. In the diocese the total number of

secular clergy is 287, and of regulars, 125; total, priests, 412. The

number of nuns is 1150. Besides the Catholic university, with its ample

staff of professors, there are in the diocese six colleges, seven

superior schools for boys, fourteen superior schools for ladies, twelve

monastic primary schools, forty convent schools, and 200 lay schools,

without including those which are under the National Board of Education.

The Christian Brothers have 7000 pupils under their instruction, while

the schools connected with the convents in the diocese contain 15,000.

Besides Maynooth, which is amply endowed by the state, and contains 500

or 600 students, all designed for the priesthood, there is the college of

All Hallows, at Drumcondra, in which 250 young men are being trained for

the foreign mission. The Roman Catholic charities of the city are varied

and numerous. There are magnificent hospitals, one of which especially--

the Mater Misericordiae--has been not inappropriately called 'The Palace

of the Sick Poor'--numerous orphanages, several widows' houses, and other

refuges for virtuous women; ragged and industrial schools, night asylums,

penitentiaries, reformatories, institutions for the blind and deaf and

dumb; institutions for relieving the poor at their own houses, and

Christian doctrine fraternities almost innumerable. All these wonderful

organizations of religion and charity are supported wholly on the

voluntary principle, and they have nearly all sprung into existence

within half a century."

Miss Fannie Taylor, an English lady, in a recent work entitled Irish Homes

and Irish Hearts, admirably describes, from personal and minute

examination, the efficiency, success, and untiring devotion of the numerous

orders of holy women, whose houses everywhere are to be found in and around

the capital. Every conceivable want, every ill that flesh is heir to, finds

at their busy and gentle hands an alleviation and a soothing remedy. The

daughters of the rich are taught their duties to themselves and to society;

the children of the poor are gratuitously trained in all the necessary arts

of life; the orphan has a refuge; the sick are visited and comforted; even

the outcast woman, the loathing of the worldly of her own sex, is taken by

the hand and gently led back to the path of virtue. Hospitals; asylums for

the blind, the deaf and dumb, have been built by them, generally out of

their own slender means; and even the raving maniac and drivelling idiot

find a shelter and a home. Wherever death, sickness, poverty, ignorance,

crime, or affliction is, there also is to be found the "sister," consoling,

helping, teaching, admonishing, always gentle, patient, and cheerful.

{836}

"I would speak," said the writer, in her introductory chapter, "of that

marvellous net of religious institutions spread over the land, and of those

deeds of charity which in reality form a powerful element in Irish life."

Words as truthful as they are applicable.

Following Mr. Godkin in what he calls his "Inspection of Bishoprics,"

(Protestant of course,) we come to the diocese of Ferns, embracing the

county of Wexford. "Here, then," says the inspector, "is a population that

seems naturally fitted in a preeminent degree for the reception of

Protestantism;" but he found himself mistaken. In the very cradle of

Catholicity in Ireland he could not find even one out of every ten who even

professed to be Protestants. He is equally surprised at the respect and

veneration in which our blessed mother was held in this diocese of

"industrious, self-reliant, and independent" men, and acknowledges his

astonishment gracefully enough:

"I had plenty of proofs of this in the town of Wexford, where there are

two splendid new churches, with grand towers, built almost exactly alike,

in cathedral style; erected also at the same time, and chiefly through

the exertions of the same priest. One of them is called the church of the

Immaculate Conception, and the other the church of the Assumption; both,

therefore, specially dedicated to the Virgin Mary. There could be no

mistake about this in the mind of any one visiting these splendid places

of worship, which are fitted up admirably with seats to the very doors,

finished in the most approved style, and with a degree of taste that

would do honor to the best cathedrals in England. Behind the high altar

there is a very large window of stained glass, and a similar one of

smaller dimensions at each side. To the right is Mary's chapel, with an

altar brilliant and gorgeous in the extreme. There is a beautiful statue

of the Virgin and Child, before which three lamps were burning during the

day, and in the evening eight or nine dozen of candles are lighted, while

ten or twelve vases are filled with a variety of flowers, kept constantly

fresh, and producing the most brilliant and dazzling effects for the

worshippers, who are nearly all attracted to this favorite altar, the

beauty and splendor of which throw the altar of Christ completely in the

shade. Generally, indeed, the Saviour appears only agonized on the cross,

his hands fastened with nails, and the blood flowing from his pierced

side, or else lying dead and ghastly in the sepulchre. It is only the

Virgin that appears arrayed in beauty, crowned with majesty, and

encircled with glory. Her altar in the Wexford church of the Assumption

is decorated in the same style as the Immaculate Conception, but not with

so much elaboration. Great local sacrifices must have been made for the

erection and furnishing of these two churches, with their magnificent

towers and spires, but much of the money came from Great Britain and the

colonies; and to a question which I put on the subject to my guide, I

received for answer that it came 'from all parts of the habitable world.'

"But, beautiful as those two new churches are, they are surpassed in

internal decorations by the Franciscan church of this town. This is a

perfect gem in its way so elegantly painted and ornamented, and so nicely

kept, so bright and cheering in its aspect, and evincing such regard to

comfort in all its arrangements, that we can easily conceive it to be a

very popular and fashionable place of worship. It is not cruciform, but

built in the shape of an L. To the left of the principal altar, at the

junction of the two portions, stands in impressive prominence the altar

of the Virgin Mary, which is covered by an elevated canopy, resting upon

white and blue pillars with golden capitals. Upon the altar stands a

beautiful marble statue of the Virgin. Three lamps burn constantly before

it. One hundred candles are lighted round it in the evening with half a

dozen gas-burners. Floral ornaments are in the greatest profusion and

variety. There are four large stands on the altar floor, two others

higher up on the pedestal, and a number of small vases with bouquets

ranged on the altar. The friary attached to the church presents a picture

of order, neatness, and cleanliness which seemed to be a reflection of

the characteristics of the 'English baronies,' showing how national

idiosyncrasies and social circumstances affect religion. In fact, a

community of Quakers could not keep their establishment in better order

than these Franciscans keep their friary. I observed a great contrast in

this respect in the Roman Catholic establishments of Waterford and

Thurles. Wexford, indeed, is quite a model town in the Roman Catholic

Church. There are three other places of worship besides those already

mentioned--the college chapel and the nunnery chapels, and certainly

there are no people in the world, perhaps, not excepting the Romans

themselves, more abundantly supplied with masses. There is a mass for

workingmen at five o'clock in the morning, there are masses daily during

the week at later hours, and no less than six or seven on Sundays in each

of the principal chapels, or churches as they are now generally called.

The college is a large building, and in connection with it is the

residence of the bishop, Dr. Furlong."

{837}

What has here been remarked of Dublin and Ferns may be said with equal

justice of other parts of Ireland. Kildare and Leighlin has its splendid

cathedral, the corner-stone of which was laid in Carlow in 1828, by the

celebrated Dr. Doyle. Cork has its fine churches, schools, and monasteries.

Of the cathedral of the diocese of Kerry, Miss Taylor says:

"The great ornament of Killarney is the cathedral, the only one I have

seen in Ireland worthy of the name. It is one of Pugin's happiest

conceptions. The tower is not yet built, and this of course greatly

detracts from the beauty of the exterior; but within, the great height of

the roof, the noble pillars, the sense of space and grandeur, made one

think of some of the beautiful cathedrals of old of our own and foreign

lands."

In the archdiocese of Tuam, where some years since the Most Rev. Dr. Kelly,

the predecessor of the present patriotic prelate, said that out of one

hundred and twenty-one places of worship one hundred and six "were thatched

cabins," there are now three hundred and eighty-seven churches, three

hundred and eighty-two clergymen, and fifty-four religious houses.

Armagh has again risen from the ashes of the past, and again a beautiful

metropolitan cathedral appears on the spot hallowed by St. Patrick. The

corner-stone of this beautiful building was laid by the Most Rev. Dr.

Crolly, primate, on the 17th of March, 1840. The increase of churches in

this diocese from 1800 to 1864 has been ninety-three; convents and schools,

twenty-four.

Such is the outward visible sign of the progress of the church in Ireland

for the last hundred years. What though the wind sighs mournfully through

the broken arches of many a church and cloister, made sacred by the saintly

men who prayed and taught fourteen centuries ago; though the fern and the

ivy grow up and cement a thousand crumbling ruins, which in their

desolation attest at the same time man's passion and his impotence; let

them be as silent teachers of the past and of its glorious memories and

bitter persecution. But the people of Ireland have the present, they are

working not only for themselves, but for the future; and they, too, will be

known to after generations by the monuments they are now building as their

forefathers built; by their churches, convents, and colleges, which shall

exist, even though in ruins, in the grateful memories of coming ages.

------

{838}

From The Dublin Review.

John Tetzel. [Footnote 303]

[Footnote 303: Tetzel und Luther, oder Lebensgeschichte und

Rechtfertigung des Ablasspredigers und Inquisitors, Dr. Johann Tetzel,

aus dem Predigerorden. Von Valentin Gröne, Doctor der Theologie. Soest

und Olpe. Verlag der Nasse'schen Buchhandlung. 1853. (pp. 237.)]

Of all Luther's contemporary opponents none experienced so much of his

foul-mouthed vituperation as the Dominican preacher of indulgences, John

Tetzel--a vituperation which Protestant writers, down to the present day,

have not ceased, with unmitigated virulence, to heap upon his memory.

Nor have Catholic writers done much to defend Tetzel's calumniated

reputation. On the contrary, they have in general allowed themselves to be

deluded by Protestant prejudice, and so to have abstained from referring,

in his behalf, to original sources of information. This unworthy course

they have pursued as though they viewed Tetzel in the light of a personage

not worth quarrelling about, whom, without detriment to the church, they

might safely abandon to the enemy, nay, whom it might perhaps be as well

thus to abandon. They were fully aware that it was not for preaching Pope

Leo's indulgence that Luther really attacked Tetzel. The indulgence was but

the pretext seized by Luther for openly broaching the heretical opinions

which, ever since the year 1515, he had secretly formed. Neither did Luther

owe his success to the alleged abuses of the papal indulgence. He owed his

success to the wide-spread moral corruption of his times. Had Leo X.

proclaimed no indulgence at all, Luther's calamitous Reformation could

hardly have been prevented.

Three Protestant biographies of John Tetzel have been written in Germany.

The earliest, written by Godfried Hecht in Latin, appeared in 1707. About

the same time a Life of Tetzel, in German, was published by Jacob Vogel.

The third, a compilation of both, is by Friedrich Hoffmann, and appeared at

Leipsic in 1844. They are all three, more or less, just such _ex

parte_ productions as might be expected, full of obloquy founded on

garbled quotations and falsified facts. The most virulent is Hoffmann's

book, the least so Hecht's. In copiousness of original research, Vogel far

surpasses Hecht and Hoffmann. As a counterpoise to these biographies the

Catholic party produced nothing till the year 1817. An anonymous work then

appeared at Frankfort-on-the-Main, entitled Vertraute Briefe zweier

Katholiken über den Ablass Streit Dr. Martin Luthers wider Dr. Johann

Tetzel. This work is supposed to have been written by a Jesuit, and,

although it contains many strong points in vindication of Tetzel's injured

character, it would not seem to have had this object so much in view as the

defence of the doctrine of indulgences against the attacks made on it by

reason of the year 1817 being the tercentenary year of the Reformation, and

celebrated as such throughout Protestant Germany. What Audin in his Life of

Luther says in favor of Tetzel proceeds more from feeling than historical

research, and is consequently of inferior importance. Under these

circumstances it is gratifying to meet with such a book in defence of

Tetzel as Dr. Valentine Gröne has produced, in which, while he exhibits the

vilified Dominican as an able, pious, and devoted champion of the holy see,

in a manner that establishes, his title in future to that character on a

solid basis, he also contributes to the history of Luther and the

Reformation a most interesting fund of knowledge and reflection.

{839}

The true date of Tetzel's birth appears to be unknown. It is conjectured to

have fallen a little later than the middle of the fifteenth century. He was

a native of Leipsic, where his father was a citizen and goldsmith. Dr.

Gröne has much to say about the etymology of his family name. But this we

may pass over as superfluous. Of Tetzel's boyhood and youth nothing is

recorded until the year 1482. It was the year of his matriculation as a

student of the Leipsic university. He is now said to have shown superior

abilities and great application. For the art of rhetoric he soon evinced a

strong predilection. Not content with attending the lectures of Conrad

Kimpina on the theory of declamation, he sought to gain a practical

knowledge of it by assiduously frequenting the sermons of the Dominicans.

This led to his forming an attachment to the order of which, in 1490, he

became a member. Two years before, he had received his bachelor's degree,

being the sixth on a list of fifty candidates.

In the seclusion of the Dominican convent of St. Paul's, at Leipsic, Tetzel

renounced the study of humanities in order to devote himself all the more

zealously to the writings of the fathers and doctors of the church.

This course he adopted as the surest means of qualifying himself to become

a preaching friar in the true spirit of St. Dominic. "The goldsmith's son,"

says Jacob Vogel, "possessed every requisite to form a public speaker, a

clear understanding, a good memory, an eloquent tongue, an animated

delivery, a manly and sonorous voice, the charm of which was enhanced by a

tall and slender figure."

His first essays as a preacher were confined to the church of his convent.

Their effect was such that his prior, Martin Adam, soon gave him permission

to preach beyond the convent walls, at the different places belonging to

its jurisdiction. In Tetzel's day it was still customary not to confer holy

orders until, according to ancient canonical rule, the candidate had

reached the age of thirty years. This age Tetzel attained before the close

of the century. He was then ordained priest by Philo von Trotha, Bishop of

Merseburg. About the same time Pope Alexander VI. proclaimed the great

jubilee. It was the eighth proclamation since the first by Boniface VIII.

Tetzel received from his superiors the appointment to preach the jubilee

indulgence. He preached it at Leipsic, Zwickau, Nüremberg, Magdeburg,

Görlitz, Halle, and other towns. So well did he perform his duty, that he

established his fame as one of the most powerful popular preachers that had

ever appeared in Germany. "By reason of his extraordinary eloquence," says

Godfried Hecht, "he acquired great authority over the people, and rose

higher and higher in renown." Dr. Gröne adverts to various contemporary

attestations of Tetzel's surprising success with the masses. It was

ascribed to his resounding voice, his richly metaphorical language, and

logical clearness.

In 1504, Pope Julius II. proclaimed an indulgence in favor of the Teutonic

Knights in Prussia, whom the Russians and Tartars had reduced to great

straits. On this occasion Tetzel was again chosen to preach, along with

Christian Baumhauer, of Nüremberg. He preached the indulgence in Prussia,

Brandenburg, and Silesia. At the same time the Dominican priory of Glogau,

becoming vacant, was offered to him. He was little more than thirty years

old. "What stronger proof," says Dr. Gröne, "could be given him of the high

veneration in which he was held by his order?" But he did not accept the

dignity. In the early part of 1507 he returned to Leipsic. On his way he

preached for the Teutonic Knights at Dresden. So great was the desire to

hear him that the largest church in the city was found too small for the

congregation.

{840}

Duke George of Saxony caused him, in consequence, to preach from a window

of his palace. The same zealous duke, on Tetzel's arrival at Leipsic,

received him outside the gates at the head of the clergy, the civic

authorities, and dignitaries of the university, and conducted him in solemn

procession to St. Paul's convent. Here Tetzel again retired, a simple

friar, to the seclusion of his cell. In 1510, he was employed to preach an

indulgence of a peculiar sort, granted in aid of building a bridge, with a

chapel on it, over the Elbe at Torgau. The Saxon princes, being themselves

short of funds, and finding the people unwilling to contribute the money

for nothing, had obtained in 1491 from Innocent VIII. the indulgence in

question, by which all the faithful in Saxony who should give the twentieth

part of a gold florin toward the bridge and chapel at Torgau were permitted

to eat butter and drink milk in lent, on the rogation days, and the vigils

of feasts, for a term of twenty years. In 1510, Pope Julius II. renewed

this indulgence for another twenty years. Such indulgences were not

unfrequent in the middle ages. In 1310. Pope John XXII., as Dr. Gröne tells

us, granted an indulgence of forty days toward the erection of the bridge

at Dresden. When Julius II. died in 1513, the great aspiration of his

successor, Leo X., was to complete the magnificent temple of Christendom,

St. Peter's basilica, begun by Julius in 1506. But Leo found that the wars

waged by his high-minded predecessor in defence of St. Peter's patrimony,

and the independence of Italy, had exhausted the papal treasury. Julius

having raised the funds for laying the foundations of St. Peter's by means

of an indulgence, Leo resolved to do the like toward the expenses of

finishing the work. The bull which he accordingly issued, granting a

plenary indulgence to all Christendom, reached Germany in 1515. The

commission to preach it was given to the Franciscans. For Saxony and the

north of Germany this commission was divided between the guardian of the

Franciscans of Mentz and Albert of Brandenburg, the newly installed

archbishop of the city. But the guardian of the Franciscans declining to

act, the entire commission passed into the hands of the archbishop. It was

merely as a special favor that he had been included in the commission at

all. His grace, in fact, had been obliged to contract a heavy debt with the

Fuggers of Augsburg, the Rothschilds of the day, in order to pay the fees

on his pallium, which, for an archbishop of Mentz, amounted to no less a

sum than thirty thousand gold florins. As it was not customary for the

archbishops to pay this sum out of their privy purse, it had to be levied

on the faithful of the diocese. But this had been done twice within the

last ten years for the immediate predecessors of Albert of Brandenburg,

namely, Archbishops Berthold and James Uriel. To raise the sum a third time

under such circumstances seemed impossible without assistance. Wherefore,

in order to afford relief to his flock, Archbishop Albert had obtained

leave from Rome to appropriate a portion of the proceeds of the papal

indulgence in his province toward the payment of his debt. This fact

suffices, in Dr. Gröne's opinion, to clear the archbishop from the reproach

of avarice cast at him by Protestant writers, who have also not failed to

impute all sorts of unworthy motives to him for making choice of the

Dominican, John Tetzel, as his chief sub-commissioner, or quaestor, in

preaching the indulgence. But, says Dr. Gröne, is not the archbishop's

choice of Tetzel tantamount to a refutation of the calumnies heaped upon

him as one of the vilest, not only of friars, but of men? Archbishop Albert

proceeded with the greatest caution, and issued very clear and exact

instructions, both on the nature of the indulgence, and the manner in which

it should be preached. Had Tetzel really been the notoriously bad monk

Protestant writers say he was, how could the archbishop, with the knowledge

of such a fact, have ventured to choose him at all?

{841}

How could Tetzel be expected to preach with any effect, if, as is asserted,

he was a disgrace to his order, a man who did not scruple openly to

perpetrate the worst excesses? But Archbishop Albert of Mentz had, as we

have seen, very particular reasons of his own for promoting as much as

possible the success of Pope Leo's indulgence, and, accordingly, he made

choice of Tetzel as his chief quaestor, not because he thought a coarse,

sordid monk of infamous reputation the likeliest person he knew of to stir

up the religious fervor of the people, but because he judged this might

best be done by one who, while eminent alike for piety and for zeal in the

cause of the church and the holy see, enjoyed the renown of being one of

the most eloquent preachers then living in Germany. What motive could be

more natural, more just, more obvious than this?

Tetzel entered on his duties as preacher of the papal indulgence for the

Archbishop of Mentz with his accustomed zeal and ability. What he had to

announce in virtue of the Instructio Summaria of the archbishop was

substantially this: That all persons who repented of, and confessed,

fasting, their sins, who received holy communion, said certain prayers in

seven different churches, or before as many altars, and contributed

according to their means a donation toward St. Peter's basilica, should

obtain full remission of the temporal punishment due to their sins, once

for their lives, and then as often as they should be in danger of death;

that this indulgence might be applied by way of intercession to the souls

in purgatory, while bedridden people were to be able to obtain it by

devoutly confessing and communicating in their chambers before a sacred

image or picture.

In the entire document, says Dr. Gröne, there does not occur a thought

which the church at the present day would hesitate to subscribe. The

Instructio Summaria further declares, that those who cannot afford a

pecuniary donation are not, therefore, to be denied the grace of the

indulgence, which seeks not less the salvation of the faithful than the

advantage of the basilica. "Let such as have no money," it says, "replace

their donations by prayer and fasting, for the kingdom of heaven must not

stand more open to the rich than the poor." What a refutation have we here

of the slanderous clamor against Pope Leo's indulgence as an alleged

traffic in sin! With respect to the conduct of Tetzel himself and his

subordinates, they are admonished to lead an exemplary life, to avoid

taverns, and to abstain from unnecessary expense. That cases of levity

nevertheless took place, Dr. Gröne admits, but he strenuously denies that

Tetzel gave cause for animadversion. Finally, the Instructio Summaria

directed that all indulgences of a particular or local kind should be

declared, in virtue of the pope's bull, as suspended for eight years in

favor of the one now granted by his holiness; a declaration which did not

fail to excite a bitter spirit of opposition and jealousy, especially among

the religious orders and confraternities, of which Tetzel had to bear the

brunt.

In the church of All Saints, at Wittenberg, there was a costly shrine of

relics resented by the reigning elector Frederic, afterward surnamed the

Wise. At his request Pope Leo X., so recently as 1516, had attached to this

shrine an indulgence for the yearly festival of All Saints. The offerings

which this indulgence would produce Frederic designed to apply for the

benefit of the university which he had founded. Hence, he regarded the

papal indulgence for St. Peter's at Rome as a grievance, and, but for an

imperial mandate requiring all the German princes to throw no impediment in

its way, he would have forbidden its being preached in his territories.

{842}

Frederic, moreover, had a grudge against Rome on the following grounds: The

holy see had, in compliance with his request, consented to confer on his

natural son the coadjutorship to a benefice _in commendam_. But the

commendator himself dying when the diploma conferring the coadjutorship had

just been completed, a new diploma conferring the vacant commendatory had

to be prepared instead, entailing on Frederic, who was of a very

parsimonious disposition, the vexatious necessity of having to pay the fees

twice over. This he ruminated upon in his sullen way, and set it down in

his mind as a conclusive proof of that grasping, overreaching spirit which

the enemies of the church in that age accused her of in such exaggerated

terms. Frederic the Wise was also involved in a dispute with the archbishop

of Mentz respecting certain territorial rights at Erfurth.

The Augustinian hermits of Wittenberg sympathized with their munificent

patron the elector. He permitted them to make use of the funds accruing

from the local indulgence of All Saints toward the expenses of a new

convent and church which they had in course of erection. But the temporary

suspension of the latter indulgence in favor of the one preached by John

Tetzel for Pope Leo X. and Archbishop Albert inconvenienced and annoyed

them all the more, as their buildings were on the point of completion.

Neither was their ill-will toward Tetzel the less that, in his character as

a Dominican, he was their ardent opponent in the scholastic and theological

disputes of the day; and, besides being a preacher of such talent and

influence, was a dignitary of the court of Inquisition at Cologne, where,

of course, the Dominicans presided.

In spite of all obstacles, Tetzel preached the indulgence with signal

success at Leipsic, Magdeburg, Halberstadt, Berlin, and other places. At

length, about the end of October. 1517, he arrived at Yüterbock, near

Wittenberg, just at the time for gaining the special indulgence of All

Saints. In vain the Augustinians secretly did what they could to prevent

the people from flocking to hear him. The very students of the new

Wittenberg university, expressly founded as it was as a rival to that of

Leipsic, deserted the lecture-halls in such numbers that the professors

were filled with alarm and indignation. In particular, Dr. Martin Luther

was exasperated to find himself so completely eclipsed by the proximity of

Tetzel, against whom he fruitlessly inveighed in the temporary church of

the Augustinian hermits. Even his own penitents, regardless of his

admonitions and refusals of absolution, forsook his confessional to obtain

the indulgence proclaimed at Yüterbock. All at once they seemed to forget

the maxims he had taken so much pains to instil into their minds respecting

divine grace and good works! Long had he waited for an opportunity to

broach his new doctrine openly, and he and his disciples resolved that now

or never was the time to do so.

Accordingly, on the 31st of October Luther posted up his famous ninety-five

theses at the door of All Saints' church in Wittenberg, and challenged all

the world to dispute with him on the doctrine they maintained. Ostensibly

they were levelled against the alleged abuses of the papal indulgence. But

attacks on the doctrine itself, as well as on the authority of the pope,

were insidiously intermingled with them.

"Not the affair of the indulgence, not Tetzel, not the corruption and

ignorance of the clergy, not the decay of discipline," says Dr. Gröne,

"but the circumstance that Luther, previous to the posting up of his

theses, was a heretic, and found support in the Elector Frederic--this it

was that gave rise to the great schism in the church."

Dr. Gröne substantiates his assertion by authenticated facts, and a

critical examination of Luther's ninety-five theses, which, says he,

"Were the point of transition from secret to open from timid to

obstinate, heresy. They were the seed which, sown in the soil, contains,

not only virtually, but really, all that, as germ and plant, it has a

right to contain. They were the result, the production of Luther's mental

life, corroded, as it was, by error and learned self-conceit; they were

as intimately united with it as the stem is with the root, therefore they

could only be abandoned in case the author himself transformed his entire

interior life. Hence, too, is to be derived the obstinacy with which

Luther clung to them, with which he would still have clung to them, even

if they had not earned him general applause; hence the circumstance that,

in defending them, he involved himself deeper and deeper in heresy."

{843}

By means of the press Luther's theses were soon spread all over Germany.

Tetzel, seeing the riotous applause they met with from the enemies of the

church generally, and from his own enemies in particular, suspended his

preaching; and, with the concurrence of the archbishop of Mentz, repaired

for advice to his former preceptor, Dr. Conrad Wimpina, at that time rector

of the university of Frankfort-on-the-Oder. Wimpina advised him to answer

Luther's challenge with a series of antitheses. Tetzel did so, and

published against Luther's ninety-five theses a hundred and six antitheses.

They obtained for him the degree of doctor of divinity. In the clearest

manner they set forth the true Catholic doctrine of the absolute necessity

of repentance, confession, and satisfaction for the pardon of sin,

affirming that, though an indulgence exempts the sinner from the

vindicatory penalties of the church, it leaves him just as much bound as

ever to submit to her medicinal and preservative ones; that it does not

derogate from the merits of Christ, since its whole efficacy is due to the

atoning passion of Christ; as also that the pope has power only by means of

suffrage to apply the benefits of an indulgence to the souls in purgatory.

Moreover, to say the pope cannot absolve the least venial sin is erroneous;

and equally so to deny that all vicars of Christ have the same power as

Peter had: rather to assert that Peter, in the matter of indulgences, had

more power than they, is both heretical and blasphemous. One of the many

slanders on Tetzel is, that he was not the author of the antitheses that he

published, but that Dr. Wimpina wrote them for him. Luther himself flung

this taunt in his face, and so gave it the prestige among his party of an

undoubted fact. Dr. Gröne enters fully into the case, and terminates his

inquiry with "venturing to believe that, by his vindication, he has

annihilated every substantial ground for doubting that Tetzel was the real

author of the antitheses in question." They did not, of course, silence

Luther, who replied to them with a popular compendium in German of his

ninety-five theses in twenty articles. Tetzel rejoined with twenty others,

also in German. In the nineteenth he declares of Luther's doctrine, in the

tone of a prophet, that, in consequence of it, "many people will contemn

the authority and power of his holiness the pope and the Roman see, will

intermit the works of sacramental satisfaction, will no longer believe

their pastors and teachers, but will explain, every one for himself, the

sacred Scriptures according to private fancy and whim, and believe just

what every one chooses, to the great detriment of souls throughout

Christendom."

At a time when all the most learned men in Germany regarded the matter as

nothing but a scholastic dispute, when many even in Rome deemed it a mere

monkish quarrel, Tetzel, by thus pointing out in such clear and concise

terms what Luther's principles really involved, what fatal results they

would produce, evinced, in Dr. Gröne's opinion, a more than ordinary

penetration of mind.

Luther's fundamental thought in attacking indulgences was this: That

indulgences are not of faith, because not taught in the Bible, not taught

by Christ and his apostles; they emanate, he said, only from the pope. Now,

if this thought was an erroneous one, if the pope in questions of faith and

morals is infallible, if he alone possesses the right to decide the true

sense and meaning of Scripture, every Catholic is bound on all such

questions to submit to him; and Luther, if he persisted in maintaining his

doctrine, passed sentence on himself as an apostate and a heretic, cut

himself off from all__ escape, and had no other choice left than that

of either being punished as a heretic, or making a recantation.

{844}

Hence, in order to drive him from the field, it was requisite to prove

that, besides the truths explicitly declared in holy writ, there are other

truths in the church which we are equally bound to believe; and that they

comprise all those doctrines relating to faith which are defined as such by

the holy see. By setting up those propositions the dispute would be raised

to one of principle, and Luther would be compelled to speak out on the

pope's authority in matters of faith and practice.

These considerations spurred Tetzel on to issue against Luther's fifty

theses on the power of the pope; for, indeed, it had not eluded his

observation that much the greater part of the applause received by Luther

was owing far more to his insidious attacks on the authority of the holy

see than to his reprobation of the indulgence. Tetzel's fifty theses,

published about the end of April, 1518, maintained, therefore, that the

highest power having been received by the pope exclusively from God, cannot

be extended or limited, either by any man or by the whole world, but only

by God alone. That in his power of jurisdiction the pope stands above all

other bishops separate or united. That, although, as a private man, the

pope may hold, on a point of faith, a wrong opinion, yet, when he

pronounces judgment on it _ex cathedrâ_, he is infallible. That

indulgences cannot be granted by the rest of the prelates, whether

collectively or singly, but only by the "Bridegroom of the whole church,"

namely, the pope. That what is true and of faith about indulgences, only

the pope can decide. That the church has many Catholic truths, which are

neither expressly declared in the canon of Scripture, nor explicitly stated

by the holy fathers. That all doctrines relating to faith, and defined as

such by the apostolic see, are to be reckoned among Catholic truths,

whether or not they are contained in the Bible. As a warning for the

elector of Saxony, Tetzel declares that all those who patronize heretics,

and use their power to prevent them from being put upon their trial before

the lawful judge, incur excommunication.

These fifty theses of Tetzel's were strictly in the spirit of the

scholastic theology in vogue, a spirit which the experience of such

councils as those of Basle, Constance, and Florence had contributed not a

little to evoke.

Luther at once perceived what a stumbling-block Tetzel had thrown in his

way. He did not attempt to dispute the fifty theses. Had he done so he must

have plainly acknowledged himself a heretic. As matters stood this would

have been premature, would have spoiled all, would have ruined him and his

cause. Tetzel had not designated Luther personally as a heretic. But Luther

chose to assume that he had done so, and forthwith let loose a storm

against him of such brutal and malignant invective as Luther alone was

capable of. Adopting the tone of an injured man, a man shamefully

misunderstood, he filled Germany with hypocritical asseverations of his

orthodoxy and his devotion to the see of Peter. All his party, all Tetzel's

opponents, followed in his wake. The heathen-minded humanists, in

particular, singled out Tetzel as the butt of their ribald satire, holding

him up to scorn and execration as the very impersonation of every

imaginable monastic abuse and scandal. The persecuted man found little or

no shelter from the tempest. The friends of religion and the church were

intimidated, confounded, paralyzed; apathy, indecision, cowardice,

delusion, prevailed among the guardians of the faith, prevailed among the

German bishops. Rome herself was slow and lenient in her measures. Although

she cited Luther to come and answer for himself to her, she consented, in

the persons of Cajetan and Miltiz, to go to him. Cajetan, all patience and

condescension, allowed himself to be trifled with and duped. Miltiz

truckled to Luther, reviled Tetzel, betrayed his trust.

{845}

In vain did Hermann Rab, provincial of the Saxon Dominicans, address a

touching letter in Tetzel's defence to Miltiz. It is dated at Leipsic,

January 3d, 1519, and is quoted in full by Dr. Gröne:

"Truly I should not know where to find a man (observes Hermann Rab in

this letter) who has done and suffered, who still suffers so much for the

honor of the apostolic see, as our venerable father, Magister John

Tetzel. If his holiness only knew it, I doubt not but that he would

distinguish him in a worthy manner. With what lies and slanders beyond

number he is overwhelmed, all the street-corners, where they resound in

your ears, attest. I only wish your excellence had heard the sermon he

preached on the feast of our Lord's circumcision, for then you would not

have failed to convince yourself what his sentiments are, and always have

been, toward the holy see."

Miltiz commanded Tetzel to retire to his cell at Leipsic. He obeyed. His

career was now terminated. He never ascended the pulpit again. The fatigues

and excitement he had undergone; the persecution he had suffered; his

deserted and forlorn condition; above all, the course of events, so ominous

for the church and the papacy, to which he clung with all his soul; these

things preyed upon his mind and body to such a degree that his health gave

way, and he died in a state of profound melancholy in the month of August

of the above-mentioned year. He is supposed to have been about sixty years

old:

"Tetzel could not have set up a better monument to his own character

(writes Dr. Gröne) than he did in the grief and affliction which hastened

his end. The ruin of the church, the wild infidelity, and unspeakable

disorders which the triumph of Luther must needs entail on Germany--this

was the worm that gnawed his vital thread. It broke his heart to be

forced to see how the sincere champions of the old church truths were

left alone, were slandered, despised, and misunderstood by their own

party, while the mockers and revilers of the immutable doctrine won

applause on all sides."

In a chapter devoted to a refutation of the infamous calumnies and profane

anecdotes recorded of Tetzel, it is shown by Dr. Gröne that they were

mostly borrowed from the Decameron of Boccaccio and a congenial German

production, styled Der Pfaffe Amis. For example: Tetzel, being anxious to

impart extraordinary interest to the indulgence he had to preach, once told

the people he would show them a feather which the devil, in combating with

the archangel Michael, had plucked from the archangel's wing. But a couple

of godless wags, entering his chamber during his absence, stole the feather

out of the box in which it was kept, and put some coals from the fireplace

in its stead. Tetzel, ignorant of the theft, mounts the pulpit, box in

hand, and declaims with great fervor on the wonderful qualities of his

heavenly feather. Then opening the box, finds it full of coals. Nothing

abashed, he cries out, "What wonder if, among so many relic-boxes as I

possess, I have taken the wrong one?" And forthwith he extols the

miraculous power of the very coals on which St. Lawrence was broiled.

Another merry tale of the sort is the following: "Tetzel," they, say, "once

desired to lodge with the sacristan at Zwickau. But the sacristan excused

himself as being too poor to entertain so renowned a guest. 'We'll see that

you have money enough,' said Tetzel, 'only look what saint it is in the

calendar to-morrow.' The sacristan found the name of Juvenalis. 'A very

unlucky name, he regretted to say, because it was so little known.' 'But

we'll make it known,' replied Tetzel. 'Ring the bells to-morrow as if for a

festival, and let high mass be sung.' The sacristan obeyed, and the people

throng the church. After the gospel Tetzel ascends the pulpit, and speaks:

'Good people, to-day I have something to tell you which, if I were to

withhold it, would be the very ruin of your salvation. Hitherto, you know,

we have always invoked such and such saints, but now they have grown old,

and are tired of hearing and helping us. To-day you commemorate Juvenalis,

and although until now he has been unknown, let us none the less honor him

with all our hearts.

{846}

For as he is a new saint, he will be all the more indefatigable in praying

for us. Juvenalis, my friends, was a holy martyr, whose blood was

innocently shed. Now, if you would also participate in his innocence before

God, let each of you put an offering on the altar during mass. And do you,

ye great and rich ones, precede the rest with your good example.'"

Again, in 1512, Tetzel, after having preached at Zwickau, had got all his

money packed up, and was about to depart. But the parish priest, with his

chaplain and clerk, came running to him, bitterly complaining that, while

he had provided so splendidly for himself, they had not got as much by the

indulgence as would pay for one jolly day. "Truly I am very sorry," answers

Tetzel, "but why did you not tell me sooner? However, ring the bells again

to-morrow; there may still, perhaps, be something left for you." No sooner

said than done. The people all came flocking to church, and Tetzel,

ascending the pulpit, begins: "Dearly beloved, true I had intended to

depart this very day, but last night I heard in your church-yard a poor

soul moaning and weeping miserably, and imploring some one to come to her

relief, and deliver her out of purgatory. This caused me to remain here to

day, to have mass said and offerings made for this poor soul. Now, whoever

among us should neglect to make an offering would thereby prove that he has

no compassion on the poor soul, or else that he must either be a fornicator

or an adulterer, whose conscience tells him he is not worthy to take part

in this good work. And that you may know what an urgent case it is, I

myself will be the first to present my offering."

Of course all the people hasten to follow so edifying an example, they even

borrow money from one another, for no one wishes to be thought a fornicator

or an adulterer.

In citing such absurd stories as the above, along with many others of a

still more profane description, Dr. Gröne shows that, in several instances,

they were the same as were employed to slander the character of Bernardin

Samson, the Franciscan preacher of Pope Leo's indulgence in Switzerland. He

also cites two contemporary documents, one of them signed by the

authorities of the town of Halle, the other by John Pels, prior of the

Dominican convent of Nevenwerk, denying in emphatic terms that Tetzel, in

his sermons, ever blasphemed the Blessed Virgin in the shocking way he was

accused of doing. In fine, had he really been the monster of depravity, the

shameless drunkard, swindler, liar, blasphemer, and adulterer his enemies

make of him, it is but too obvious that, instead of opposing, he would have

joined Luther, whose earliest and most ardent disciples were principally

degenerate monks, in love with the Lutheran doctrine of the futility of

good works--monks, in a word, corresponding in every respect to the

Protestant descriptions, but opposite in character as day and night to the

true nature of John Tetzel.

------

{847}

From Once a Week.

The Bride of Eberstein.

A Legend of Baden.

Four hours distant from the city of Baden, near the market village of

Malsch, on a bold, projecting wood-crowned eminence in the Black Forest,

stood the Castle of Waldenfels. It is now a heap of ruins, and scarcely can

the traveller discover the spot which was formerly the residence of an

opulent and powerful family.

In the thirteenth century, Sir Beringer, last of his race, inhabited the

castle of Waldenfels. His lately departed consort had bequeathed him an

only daughter, Rosowina by name. In bygone years Sir Beringer had ofttimes

felt distressed that he would leave no male heir to propagate the name and

celebrity of his ancient stock; and, in this feeling, he had adopted

Heinrich von Gertingen, an orphan boy, the son of an early friend and

companion in arms, and the representative of an ancient but impoverished

house, to whom he purposed to bequeath his inheritance and his name. Not

long, however, after this event, his daughter was born. And as Rosowina,

after her mothers early death, advanced in the blossom of youth, she became

the pride and happiness of her father's age, and never caused him sorrow,

save in the reflection that some day she would leave the paternal for the

conjugal hearth. All now that troubled him was his adopted son. The growing

boy, while manifesting a becoming taste for knightly accomplishments, and

obtaining success in their display, nourished in his breast the germ of

fiery passions, which, while they caused distress and anxiety to the Lord

of Waldenfels, impressed his daughter with terror and revolted feeling. At

length, when Rosowina had attained her sixteenth year, she became to

Heinrich the object of a wild and desperate devotion. He repressed the

sentiment awhile, but at length yielded himself its slave. He persecuted

Rosowina with his ill-timed and terrible addresses; and one day, having

found her alone in the castle garden, he cast himself at her feet, and

swore by all that was holy and dear that his life was in her hand, and that

without her he must become the victim of an agonizing despair. Rosowina's

terror and confusion were boundless; she had never experienced the smallest

feeling of affection for the youth, but rather regarded him with aversion

and alarm. She knew not at the moment how to act or what to say. At that

instant her father appeared. The confusion of both sufficiently discovered

what had occurred: in a burning rage Sir Beringer commanded the unhappy

youth instantly to quit the castle for ever. With one wild glance at

Rosowina, Heinrich obeyed; and muttering, "The misery thou hast brought

upon my life come upon thine own!" rushed despairingly away. Next morning

his body was found in the Murg, his countenance hideously distorted, and

too well expressing the despair with which he had left the world. Efforts

were made, so far as possible, to conceal the horrid truth from Rosowina,

but in vain; time, however, softened the features of the ghastly memory.

She had now completed her seventeenth year, and was already celebrated as

the beauty of the surrounding country. And not only was her beauty the

subject of universal praise; her maidenly modesty, her goodness of heart,

her prudent, thoughtful, intelligent cast of mind, were the theme of

commendation with all who had enjoyed the privilege of her society.

{848}

A few hours' distance from the Castle of Waldenfels, in the pleasant valley

through which rush the clear waters of the Alb, stood the monastery of

Herrenalb. The Holy Virgin was patroness of the foundation, and the day on

which the church celebrates the festival of her nativity was annually

observed as the grand holiday of the convent, when the monks, to do honor

to this occasion, exhibited all the splendor and magnificence which

Christian bounty had placed at their disposal, and spared no expense to

entertain their guests in the most hospitable and sumptuous manner. And now

Sir Beringer of Waldenfels had promised his Rosowina to ride over to

Herrenalb with her the next St. Mary's day. He was ever a man of his word;

how should he now be otherwise, when that word assured a pleasure to the

darling of his heart?

Bright and genial rose the autumnal morning when Sir Beringer and Rosowina,

with a small retinue, rode over the hills to Herrenalb. The knight and his

daughter were courteously and hospitably received by the abbot and his

monks. The presence of the noble heiress of Waldenfels excited much

interest and observation in the minster church; but the maiden herself

appeared unconscious of the fact. Seldom, however, as she found herself

disturbed by worldly thoughts in her devotions in the castle chapel at

Waldenfels, the splendor of the monastic church and services, and the

innumerable hosts of worshippers, were to her so new, that she felt

tempted, from time to time, to give a momentary glance around her. On one

occasion her gaze encountered a pair of eyes which seemed to rest on the

attraction of her countenance with an earnest yet respectful expression,

and, inexperienced as she was, she was at no loss to comprehend its

meaning. The gazer was a stately youth, who was leaning against a pillar.

His strong-built and well-proportioned frame, his noble and expressive

countenance, and even his rich and tasteful apparel, were well adapted to

fix the attention of a youthful maiden of seventeen, while his whole

demeanor convinced her how deeply he was smitten with the power of her

charms.

The service over, the worshippers dispersed, and the sumptuous abbey opened

its hospitable gates to all who could advance any claim to entertainment. A

sister of Rosowina's mother was a nun in the cloister of Frauenalb, and

Rosowina was permitted occasionally to visit her, and had here enjoyed the

opportunity of making the acquaintance of several noble young ladies of the

neighborhood. She met some of them on this occasion, whom she accompanied

into the spacious garden of the convent. Among these was the young Countess

Agnes of Eberstein, with whom as she was sauntering through an avenue of

umbrageous beeches, suddenly there stood before her the abbot of the

convent and the young man who had attracted her attention in the church,

who, side by side, had emerged from a side-way path into the main walk.

Rosowina trembled in joyful alarm as she recognized her admirer: her first

thought was to return or retreat, but, without a manifest discourtesy, this

was now impossible. Neither was the Countess Agnes at all willing to

escape, but rather forced forward the reluctant Rosowina, welcoming at the

same time the youthful stranger as her beloved brother, the Count Otto of

Eberstein. After mutual salutations, Agnes introduced Rosowina to her

brother, who was delighted to recognize in the object of his admiration the

friend of his sister. He made advances toward a conversation, but the

abbot, whose heart was less sensible to beauty, would not, even for a few

short minutes, postpone the subject of their discussion. At the banquet,

however, which followed, it was easy for the Count of Eberstein, from his

high connection with the monastery, to choose his place, and he placed

himself opposite Sir Beringer and his daughter.

{849}

The knights had met occasionally before, and a nearer acquaintance was soon

made. To an engaging person Sir Otto united the attractions of polished

manners, of knowledge extensive for that period, acquired by residence in

most of the courts of Europe, and of a lively conversational talent, which

rendered him everywhere a welcome addition to society. With so many claims

on her regard, it was little wonderful that Rosowina should accept with

pleasure the homage of the count, and encourage in his breast the most

delightful of hopes.

About that time the Counts of Eberstein had built a new castle above the

beautiful valley of the Murg, not far from the family residence of their

ancestors. The splendor of Neueberstein was the subject of universal

conversation, and all who had the opportunity of seeing the new palace were

eager to embrace the privilege. An invitation from Count Otto to the Knight

of Waldenfels and his daughter was only natural, and was no less naturally

accepted with especial welcome.

Warm and mild shone the bright autumn sun on the lovely valley of the Murg,

as Sir Beringer and his daughter rode on beside the crystal stream; nor

could Rosowina suppress the thought how she might ere long ascend the steep

winding pathway to the castle no longer its visitor, but its mistress. Sir

Otto met his guests at the castle-gate, and, with eyes beaming with joy,

more especially as he saw the joy was mutual, lifted Rosowina from her

palfrey. After brief rest and refreshment, the inspection of the castle

began. Halls and chambers were duly examined, and at last the party

ascended the rampart of the loftiest tower, whence an enchanting prospect

met the eye. Far below them the Murg rolled its restless waters, now

flowing peaceful between banks of lively green, now toilsomely forcing its

passage between wild masses of rock. On either side the dusky hills towered

above the scene; and here and there now glimmered out of the shadow of the

forest a solitary mountain village, now a mass of mighty cliffs; and as the

eye descended the rapid mountain stream, it rested on the blooming plain of

the Rhine, where, in the violet tints of distance, arose the awful barrier

of the Vosges. Lost in the magnificent spectacle stood Rosowina, unable to

satiate her eye on the glorious picture, and unaware that Otto was close

beside her, contemplating with secret pleasure the beautiful spectatress.

At length the involuntary exclamation escaped her, "A paradise indeed!"

Then found she herself softly clasped in a gentle arm, and her hand

affectionately pressed, while a well-known voice uttered softly, "And would

not Rosowina make this place 'a paradise indeed,' were she to share it with

me!"

Unable now to suppress her feelings, Rosowina replied by a glance more

expressive than any words. She returned that evening with her father to

Waldenfels the happy affianced bride of Count Otto of Eberstein.

On a bright spring morning, symbolizing well the feelings of the lovers,

the marriage solemnity was held at the Castle of Neueberstein, with all the

pomp and state of the period, which few understood better than Otto to

display. From towers and battlements innumerable banners, with the

Eberstein colors and blazonry, floated gallantly in the morning breeze, and

the portal, adorned with wreaths and arras, cast wide its hospitable gates.

Toward noon appeared, in the midst of a glittering pageant, the bride,

magnificently arrayed, but brighter in her incomparable beauty; and all

praised the choice of Otto, and agreed that he could have selected no

worthier object to grace his halls. Rosowina, however, felt unaccountably

distressed. It was not the confusion of maiden modesty it was not the

embarrassment of the bride that troubled the serenity of her heart. She

knew not herself what it was; but it weighed upon her mind like the

foreboding of a threatening misfortune.

{850}

An image, moreover, arose to her thought which long had seemed to have

vanished from her memory, even that of the unhappy Heinrich von Gertingen.

She endeavored to repress her anxiety, and succeeded so well that the happy

bride-groom saw not the cloud of sorrow that shaded the fair brow of his

bride. But when the priest had spoken the words of blessing, the last spark

of gloomy foreboding was extinct, and with untroubled tenderness she

returned her bridegroom's nuptial kiss, reproaching him smilingly, and yet

seriously, for exclaiming, as he did, with solemn appeals, that all the

joys of paradise and all the bliss of heaven were poor and insipid

pleasures in comparison of the happiness which he enjoyed in calling her

his own.

The nuptial banquet followed. It was served with profuse splendor; but when

the joy was at its height, and the castle resounded with jubilant voices,

and the dance was about to begin, a page announced a stranger knight, who

wished to speak to the bridegroom; and forthwith a figure walked into the

hall. The stranger's armor and mantle were black, and he wore his visor

down. He proceeded with stately advance to the place where the newly wedded

pair were seated at the table, made a low reverence, and spoke with a

hollow and solemn tone:

"I come, honored Count of Eberstein, on the part of my master, the powerful

monarch of Rachenland, [Footnote 304] to whose court the celebrity of this

occasion and of your bride has come, to assure you of the interest which he

takes in your person, and his gratification in the event of this day."

[Footnote 304: _Anglicè_, "The Land of Vengeance."]

His speech was interrupted by a page, who, kneeling, presented him with a

goblet of wine. But the stranger waved aside the honor, and requested, as

the highest favor that could be shown him, that he might lead the first

dance with the bride. None of the company had heard of Rachenland; but the

knowledge of distant countries was not then extensive, and the

representative of a mighty prince could not be refused the usual courtesy.

Rosowina, however, at the first appearance of the stranger knight, had

experienced an unaccountable shuddering, which amounted almost to terror,

as, leading her forth to the dance, he chilled her whole frame with the

freezing touch which, even through his gauntlet, seemed to pierce her very

heart. She was forced to summon all her strength to support herself during

the dance, and was painfully impatient for its conclusion. At length the

desired moment arrived, and her partner conducted her back to her seat,

bowing courteously, and thanking her. But at that instant she felt even

more acutely the icy coldness of his hand, while his glowing, penetrating

eye, through his visor, seemed to burn for a moment into her very soul. As

he turned to leave, a convulsive pang rent her heart, and, with a shriek,

she sank lifeless on the floor. Instant and universal was the alarm; all

rushed to the scene of the calamity; and in the confusion of the moment the

stranger knight vanished.

Inexpressible was the grief of all. In the bloom of beauty and rich fulness

of youth lay the bride, cold and inanimate, a stark and senseless corpse.

Every conceivable appliance was tried to recall departed life; but departed

it had for ever, and all attempts were vain; and when it was ascertained

beyond a doubt that not the smallest hope remained, the guests in silence

left the house of mourning, and the inhabitants of the castle were left

alone with their sorrow.

Three days had now passed away. The corpse of Rosowina rested in the vault

of the castle chapel, and the mourners, after paying the last honors to the

dead, had again departed. Otto, left alone at Eberstein, refused all human

consolation. The first stupefaction of sorrow had now given place to a

clamorous and boundless despair.

{851}

He cursed the day of his nativity, and in his wild desperation cried aloud

that he would readily sacrifice the salvation of his soul, and renounce his

claim on eternal happiness, were it only granted him to spend the rest of

life at Rosowina's side.

Before the door of the vault in which the young countess slept the wakeless

sleep, Gisbrecht kept watch and ward. Gisbrecht was an old man-at-arms of

the house of Eberstein, which he had served faithfully for more than forty

years. He was a warrior from his youth, and had stood loyally at the side

of his master, and of his master's father and grandfather, in many a bloody

conflict; fear, except the fear of God, which he diligently cultivated, was

a stranger to his soul. With slow and measured tread he paced up and down

at his station, meditating the sudden death of the young and beautiful

countess, and thence passing in thought to the instability and nothingness

of all human things. Often had his glance fallen on the entrance to the

vault; but now--what was that? Scarcely did he trust his eyes; yet it was

so. The gate opened, and a white-robed figure came forth from the depths of

the sepulchre. For a while, Gisbrecht stood motionless, with bated breath,

but fearless, while the apparition approached him. But when he gazed nearer

on the pale, ashy countenance, and recognized beyond a doubt the features

of Rosowina, the horrors of the spirit-world came upon him; and, impelled

by an unutterable terror, he rushed up the steps, and along the corridor

which led to his lord's chamber, unheeding the call of the white figure,

which followed close upon his track.

Count Otto, in his despair, was turning himself from side to side upon his

bed, when he heard a heavy knock upon the door; and, as he rose and opened

it, there stood old Gisbrecht, pale, trembling, with distorted features,

and scarcely able to stammer out from his trembling lips:

"O my lord count! the Lady of Waldenfels--"

"Art mad, Gisbrecht!" cried the count, astonished at the manner and words

of the old man.

"Pardon me, lord count," continued Gisbrecht, stammering; "I meant to say

the young departed countess--"'

"O Rosowina!" exclaimed the count, with an involuntary sigh.

"Here she is--thy Rosowina!" cried a pallid female form, which, with these

words, precipitated herself into the count's embrace.

The count knew not what to think. He was overpowered with astonishment. Was

it a dream? was it an apparition? or was it Rosowina indeed? Yes, it was

indeed she. It was her silver voice. Her heart beat, her lips breathed, the

mild and angelic features were there. It was Rosowina indeed, whom, wrapt

in the cerements of the grave, he held in his embrace.

On the morrow, the wondrous tale was everywhere told in the castle and the

neighborhood. The Countess Rosowina had not died; she had only been in a

trance. The sacristan, fortunately, had not fastened the door of the vault,

and the countess, on awakening, had been enabled by the light of the

sepulchral lamp to extricate herself from the coffin, and to follow the

affrightened sentinel to his master's chamber.

And now at Castle Eberstein once more all was liveliness and joy. But

boundless as had been the despair of the count at his loss, he did not feel

happy in his new good fortune. It seemed as though a secret unknown

something intervened between him and his youthful bride. He found no more

in her eye that deep expression of soul that so oft had awakened his heart

to transports of joy; the gaze was dead and cold. The warm kiss imprinted

on her chilly lips met never a return. Even her character was opposite to

all he had expected. As a bride, loving and gentle, trustful and devoted,

open and sincere, now was she sullen, testy, and silent. Every hour seemed

these peculiarities to unfold themselves more; every day they become mere

unendurable.

{852}

Often was his kiss rejected, sometimes with bitter mockery; if he left her

awhile through annoyance, she reproached him, and filled the castle with

complaints of his neglect and aversion; when business called him abroad,

she tortured him with the most frightful jealousy. Even in her manners and

inclinations the Countess of Eberstein was an actual contrast to the

heiress of Waldenfels; all in her was low, ignoble, and mean; one habit was

chiefly remarkable in her, always to cross her husband, to distress and

annoy him, to embitter all his joys, to darken all his pleasures. And soon

it became the common saying of the neighborhood: "The Count of Eberstein

thought he had been courting an angel, but he had brought home a dragon

from an opposite world."

With inexhaustible patience, with imperturbable equanimity, Count Otto

endured these annoyances. No complaint, no reproach, ever passed his lips.

He had loved Rosowina too faithfully, too entirely, to let the conduct of

her whom he now called his wife so soon extinguish the passion of his

heart. But these disappointed hopes, this perpetual struggle between love

and despised self-esteem, and this concealment of the sharpest pangs of his

soul, gnawed at the very germ of life, and destroyed it at its core. A slow

fever seized him, and he was now visibly decaying, and approaching the

grave. One morning he was found unexpectedly in the death-struggle. He

asked for the chaplain of the castle, in order to make his dying

confession; but the holy man only arrived in time to witness his last most

agonizing groans. At the same moment a frightful crash shook the

foundations of the castle, the doors of the burial-vault sprang open, and

some of the domestics saw the spectral form of Rosowina sweep into it, and

vanish in the darkness.

The deserted castle of Neueberstein sank in ruins, uninhabited for many

centuries; the popular belief being that Otto and Rosowina continued to

appear in its haunted apartments, and to set forth thereby the solemn

lesson, that _he makes the most foolish and wicked of bargains, who gains

even the whole world, if he lose his own soul._

------

From The Lamp.

The Miner.

From The German of Novalis.

In a room of a clean inn sat a group of men, partly travellers, partly

persons that had entered to drink a glass of beer, who conversed with each

other on various subjects. The attention of the company was particularly

directed to an old man in strange attire who was seated at a table, and

answered in a friendly manner all the questions which were put to him.

"He came from foreign parts," he said; and was a native of Bohemia. From

early youth he had had a vehement longing to know what was hidden within

the mountains whence the water gushed up into the springs, and where we

found the gold, silver, and precious stones, which have attractions so

irresistible for man. In the church of the neighboring monastery he had

often gazed upon the solid brilliancy of the images and reliquaries, and

wished that they could speak and tell him of their mysterious origin.

{853}

He had heard sometimes that they came from far distant lands; but he had

asked himself why these treasures and gems should not be found in his own

district. Not without a purpose were the mountainous regions so vast, and

preserved so securely; so it seemed to him, as sometimes on the hills he

found bright and glittering stones. He had often clambered into clefts and

caverns, and beheld with unspeakable pleasure those primeval halls and

vaults. At length he once met a traveller who advised him to become a

miner, by which means he might gratify his curiosity. He had told him that

there were miners in Bohemia; and that, if he followed the downward course

of the river, he would after ten or twelve days' journey arrive at Eula;

there he had only to speak, and he might at once become a miner. He had not

sought for further information; but the next day had set out on his

journey.

"After a fatiguing walk of several days," he continued, "I arrived at Eula.

I cannot express the joy I felt when from the summit of a hill I saw large

piles of stones, overgrown with shrubs, and upon which stood little wooden

huts; and when in the valley below I saw clouds of smoke rolling over the

wood, a distant noise increased the eagerness of my expectation. With

wonderful curiosity, and full of silent devotion, I stood upon one of the

stone mounds before the black abyss, which, from the interior of the hut,

led down straight into the mountain. Then I hastened down the valley, where

I met some darkly-clad men with lamps, who, as I rightly supposed, were

miners. With bashful anxiety I mentioned my design to them; they listened

to me with kindness, and bade me go to the melting house and inquire for

the surveyor, who would at once inform me whether or not my offer would be

accepted. They thought that my wish would be fulfilled, and told me the

usual words of salutation, '_Glück auf!_' with which I should accost

the surveyor. Full of joyful expectation, I left them, and could never

cease repeating to myself the novel salutation, so full of significance.

"I found a venerable old man, who, when I told him my history, and had

informed him of my eager desire to learn his curious and mysterious art,

promised in a very friendly manner to grant my request. I seemed to please

him; and he kept me in his house. With impatience I waited for the hour

when I should descend into the mine, and see myself clothed in the costume

which had so great a charm in my eyes. That evening he brought me a suit of

miner's clothes, and taught me the use of several instruments, which he

kept locked up in a room.

"In the evening several miners came to him; and although for the most part

their language and the subjects of their conversation were unintelligible

and novel to me, I endeavored not to miss a single word of what was said.

The little, however, which I fancied I understood increased my curiosity,

and suggested strange dreams to me during the night.

"I awoke betimes, and was soon with my new host, around whom the miners

gradually assembled to receive his orders. A room in his house was fitted

up as a chapel. A monk appeared, who said mass, and afterward recited a

solemn prayer, in which he besought the Almighty to take the miners into

his holy keeping, to support them in their perilous toil, to shield them

from the assaults and malice of evil spirits, and richly to bless their

labors.

"Never before had I prayed with so much fervor, or felt in so lively a

manner the high significance of the divine office. My future companions

seemed to me, as it were, subterranean heroes who had to surmount a

thousand dangers, but whose lot was enviable from the wonderful knowledge

they possessed, and who, through their solemn and silent acquaintance with

the primeval caverns of nature, were in her dark and marvellous chambers

endued with heavenly gifts and blissfully raised above all the annoyances

of the world.

{854}

"At the close of the service the surveyor gave me a lamp and a small wooden

crucifix, and went with me to the shaft, as we call the steep entrance to

the subterranean abode. He showed me the manner of descent, and instructed

me in the names of the numerous objects and their divisions. Holding a

rope, which was attached by a knot to a side-post, with one hand, and a

lighted lamp with the other, he began to descend. I followed his example;

and, proceeding at a somewhat rapid pace, we soon arrived at a considerable

depth.

"A feeling of deep solemnity pervaded my mind, and the light which moved

before me seemed, as it were, a fortunate star which guided me to the

secret treasuries of nature. We reached below a labyrinth of paths; and my

friendly master was never wearied answering all my questions, and

instructing me in his art.

"The murmur of the water, the distance from earth's inhabited surface, the

darkness and intricacy of our route, and the sound from afar of the miners

at work, filled me with extraordinary pleasure, and I felt with joy that I

was now in full possession of that which it had ever been my earnest desire

to possess. It is impossible to explain and describe the full satisfaction

of an inborn desire--that wonderful pleasure one finds in things which have

some secret connection with one's inmost being, and in occupations to which

one is called, and for which from his cradle his nature is adapted. Perhaps

to most people these might appear obscure, vulgar, or repulsive, but to me

they seemed as necessary as air or food.

"My aged master was much pleased with my genuine satisfaction, and

predicted that my zeal and attention would insure success. With what

rapture did I see for the first time in my life, now more than

five-and-forty years ago, the king of metals lying in delicate leaves in

the clefts of the rock! It seemed to me as though he were here kept in

close imprisonment, and shone with pleasure upon the miner who with so much

danger and labor had cloven his way to him through strong walls to bring

him to the light of day, so that he might be honored in royal crowns and

vessels and holy reliquaries, and might lead and govern the world in valued

and well earned coin.

"Thenceforth I remained at Eula, and rose by degrees to the grade of

_hewer_--who alone among the miners carries on the work on the rock

itself from carrying out the loose metal in baskets, to which work I had

been at first appointed.

"On the day when I became a hewer my aged master laid his hand on his

daughter's head and on mine, and blessed us as bride and bridegroom. On the

same day before sunrise I had cut open a rich vein. The duke gave me a gold

chain with his likeness on a large medal, and promised me my step-father's

situation. What happiness was mine when on our wedding-day I hung it round

the neck of my bride, and all eyes were fixed upon her! Our old father

lived to see several grandchildren, and at length passed in peace from the

dark mine of this world to await the great day of general retribution."

Here the old miner paused awhile and wiped away some tears from his eyes.

"Oh!" he at last exclaimed, God's blessing must needs rest upon the miner's

labors; for there is no craft which makes its workers more fortunate and

more noble-minded, which tends more to excite faith in God's wisdom and

providence, and which preserves purer innocence and youthfulness of heart

than that of the miner. Poor is he born into the world, and poor he leaves

it. It is his high joy to discover where the potent minerals are to be

found, and to bring them to light; but their dazzling brilliancy has no

influence over his heart.

{855}

Free from all perilous covetousness, his pleasure is rather derived from

their wonderful formation, the singularity of their origin and their

_habitats_, than from their possession, though it promises all things.

They have no greater charm for him than if they were common wares; and he

would rather seek for them through toil and danger in the deep fastnesses

of the earth, than strive for them on its surface by illusive and

fraudulent arts. That toil keeps his heart fresh and his mind courageous;

he enjoys his scanty pay with genuine thankfulness, and ascends every day

from the dark scenes of his calling with renewed pleasure in life. He alone

knows the real charm of light and repose, the beneficent influence of the

fresh air and the prospects which meet his eye. With what zest and

thankfulness does he eat his daily bread, and with what friendly feelings

does he associate with his fellows and taste the pleasures of familiar

conversation! In his solitude he thinks with hearty good-will of his

companions and his family, and feels ever renewed in his mind the mutual

needfulness and relationship of men. His calling teaches him unwearied

patience, and never permits him to waste his attention on unprofitable

thoughts. He has to deal with wonderfully hard and inflexible power, which

can only be overcome by obstinate labor and constant vigilance.

"But what a splendid plant he finds growing and blooming in these dreadful

depths! It is real trust in his heavenly Father, whose hand and providence

are daily made visible to him by unmistakable signs. How often have I sat

down in my place of work and contemplated by the light of my lamp my rude

crucifix with the truest devotion! There for the first time did I rightly

comprehend the holy significance of that mysterious symbol; there has my

heart felt its noblest impulses, which have been of continual use to me.

"Truly he must have been a godlike man who first taught the miner's craft,

and hid in the bosom of the rocks that solemn emblem of human life. Here

the vein discloses itself wide and unworked but valueless. There the rocks

confine it within a narrow obscure cleft; but there it is found of the

noblest proportions. Other veins running into it debase it, until it is

joined by one of a similar nature, which finally enhances its value. Often

it breaks before the miner in a thousand fragments; but he is not

discouraged. He pursues his work quietly, and presently sees his

perseverance rewarded as it stretches itself before him in increased

dimensions. Sometimes an illusive fragment leads him astray, but, soon

perceiving his mistake, he vigorously breaks through it till he finds the

vein leading to the true ore. How well acquainted is the miner with all the

humors of chance! but how thoroughly does he understand that zeal and

perseverance are the only real means to manage them and to take from them

their obstinately defended treasures!"

------

{856}

Miscellany.

_Photographs of Churches in France._--This year's issue of

transcripts from ancient Gothic buildings and portions of buildings by the

Architectural Photographic Association is unusually interesting, not only

on account of the beauty and clearness of the sun-pictures of which it

consists, but of the subjects that have been chosen for the camera. These

contain no renaissance examples or specimens of sixteenth century craft in

imposing semi-barbarous fronts on noble Gothic churches of earlier date, as

in the works at Belloy, Luzarches, and Verteuil. These changes had

remarkable interest of their own, and were acceptable to the student who

cared to see how great was the debt of the remodelling architect to his

middle age forerunner. The studies now before us range from St. Georges de

Boscherville, founded in 1050 by Ralph de Tancarville, chamberlain to

William the Conqueror, to the very beautiful and interesting west front of

the church at Civray, which, like its greater neighbor, Notre Dame de

Grande, at Poitiers, also represented here, dates from the first half of

the twelfth century, through the curious rather than important early church

of St. Ours, at Loches, at the door of which stands a Roman altar that

appears to have been used as a font; the superb portals of Notre Dame, at

Chartres, of which we have five admirable photographs; St. Julien, at Le

Mans; the interior of the church of St. Pierre, at Lisieux, the west front

of the same, with its unequal but beautiful towers; and the church of St.

Riquier, near Abbeville, which may be said to have been discovered by Dr.

Whewell, and is a splendid Flamboyant work, with certain elements of

decoration that assimilate it with those of perpendicular. Of this church

we should very much enjoy a good interior view, on account of its value in

illustrating the happy union of early French Gothic with much later

Flamboyant. To these must be added a view of the very fine Flamboyant west

front of St. Wulfram, at Abbeville, an admirable example of its kind, and

the west front of the cathedral of St. Gatien, at Tours, a work which was

begun in 1440, and brought to perfection in 1500, under Robert de

Lenoncour, then archbishop. We can only find one fault in this series, that

is, the excessive number of doorways it contains. A doorway, or series of

portals, is one of the happiest fields for architectural art; but there is

a disproportion in this respect here, where, out of twenty-two examples, we

have but one interior view, that of St. Pierre, at Lisieux, and three

general views, two of which comprise portals.

St. Georges de Boscherville is one of the best known examples of the early

Norman churches, and remarkable for the extreme simplicity of its exterior,

its fine proportions, beautiful central tower, and high octagonal spire.

Interiorly, the building is much richer than without, and comparatively

light in style; the west front is among the most highly ornamented examples

of its kind and date in Normandy, and comprises a round-headed arch with

five concentric roll-mouldings, with as many shafts in the side of the

entrance, and is decorated with beaked heads, frets, cables, and chevrons

to an unusual degree, and capital in design. The apse of this church, which

is shown in the view before us, is very curious. The western turrets are

works of the thirteenth century.

Notre Dame, at Poitiers, is too well known to the artist and antiquary to

need commendation or description here; the design is a noble one, and

happily illustrates the Romanesque of Poitou. It has been remarked that the

window, which resembles that at Civray in position, has been converted from

the original round form to a tall shape, and that this was done to admit

the introduction of painted glass. We believe this is a mistake, and the

window retains its pristine form. The window at Civray was certainly never

circular. The canopied niches of fifteenth century work, at the sides of

this window, which once disfigured the façade, have been removed by late

restorers of the edifice, obviously to the improvement of the design. We do

not see in the two views of the church of St. Ours, at Loches, enough to

demand a double illustration: one better selected view than either of those

which appear here would be enough.

{857}

A general prospect of the church would have been valuable as an

illustration of its four tourelles, with their roofs of stone, after the

manner of those in the west front of Notre Dame, at Poitiers. Doubtless the

low porch of the church at Loches, which is not shown in the photograph,

prevented the selection of a more powerful effect of light and shade, and

interfered with the choice of points of view. Mr. Petit has carefully

analyzed this church in his Architectural Studies of France. We have also a

view of the details of the doorway exterior representing the carvings of

what may be called the imperfect capitals of the jambs. The glorious

porches of Chartres, especially that magnificent one on the south side, are

admirably represented in five photographs. These give the south doorway,

north doorway, details of the north doorway, doorways of the west front;

the last represents the long-robed statues of the royal saints and other

features of the Porte Royale, (so called, probably because Henry the Fourth

entered by it to his coronation,) after they left the restorer's hands, and

is a fine, clear photograph.--_Athenaeum_.

_Newspaper Zoölogy_.--The Pall Mall Gazette has published the

following interesting note: "The Courier de Saigon reports some

extraordinary items of natural history from the land of the Anamites. There

is a certain fish, called Ca-ong in the language of the country, which has

distinguished itself to that degree that the king has bestowed upon it the

proud title of 'Nam hai dui bnong gnan,' which, as everybody knows, means

'Great General of the South Sea.' It appears that this laudable fish is in

the habit of quietly paddling round the ships near the coast until somebody

tumbles overboard. He then seizes him instantly, and, instead of eating

him, gently carries him in his mouth to the shore. At Wung-tau, near St.

James's Cape, they keep a skeleton of this extraordinary philanthropist. It

is about thirty-five feet long, possesses front teeth like an elephant,

very large eyes, a black skin very smooth, a tail like a lobster, and two

wings on the back."

_Mechanics of Flight_.--An extremely interesting paper on this subject

was read by Mr. Wenham to the Aeronautical Society. The subject is too

difficult and complex to be explained briefly, and therefore we will only

say that Mr. Wenham has brought into the explanation of flight the effect

of the forward motion in retarding descent. Imagine a parallelogram 10 ft.

long by 2 ft. broad, weighing 20 lbs. Such a body would descend in still

air at the limiting rate of 1320 ft. per minute, the resistance of the air

put in motion by the plane balancing at that velocity the effect of

gravity. If now a force be applied horizontally so as to carry the plane

with its long side forward at a speed of thirty miles per hour, then the

motion of the plane being both downward and forward, a great volume of air

will pass under the front margin of the plane, and will be carried downward

before leaving the hinder margin. The weight of air thus put in motion will

be enormous, and the descending velocity of the plane proportionately

reduced. Mr. Wenham calculates that the velocity of descent would in these

circumstances be reduced to one fifteenth of the passive rate of descent,

or would not exceed 83 ft. per minute. Each particle of air would then be

moved downward eight tenths of an inch by the passage of the plane, and

conversely, if this inclination were given to the plane, it would move

forward without descending. Mr. Wenham finds that few birds can raise

themselves vertically in the air, the exertion in that case being

excessive. The eagle can only lift itself from the ground by running with

outstretched wings till its velocity having become sufficient, it glides

into the air as if sliding on a frictionless plane.--_Popular Science

Review_.

_A New Volcano in the South Seas_.--From a letter forwarded by the

English consul at Navigators' Islands, we learn that a volcano has just

broken out at Manua, about two miles from the islands of Oloscqa. It was

preceded by a violent shock of earthquake, which commenced on the 5th of

September, and on the 12th dense thick smoke rose out of the sea. Lava was

thrown up, discoloring the water for many miles round, and destroying large

quantities of fish. Wherever the ashes fell on the adjacent island, they

destroyed all vegetation. Up to the middle of November dense smoke was

still being thrown up. It is said that the smoke rose higher than the

neighboring island, which is over 2000 feet high. The consul has been

unable to ascertain whether there is any bank thrown up in the water.

{858}

_A Chemical Method for effectually Cleaning Glass_ is given in a

recently published work on one of the processes of photography. It is

simple, reliable, and completely efficient, and will, we doubt not, be

found very useful by our readers. It is as follows: Dilute the ordinary

hydrofluoric acid sold in gutta-percha bottles, with four or five parts of

water, drop it on a cotton rubber, (not on the glass,) and rub well over,

afterward washing till the acid is removed. The action is the same as that

of sulphuric acid when used for cleaning copper; a little of the glass is

dissolved off, and a fresh surface exposed. The solution of the acid in

water does not leave a dead surface on the glass, as the vapor would; if a

strong solution is left on long enough to produce a visible depression, the

part affected will be quite bright. This method is recommended in some

cases for cleaning photographic plates.

_Nature of the Earth eaten by the People of Borneo_.--The Chemical

News gives us the composition of the clay which is eaten so extensively by

the natives of Borneo. It states that some years ago the manager of the

Orange-Nassau colliery, near Zandjermasin, in the island of Borneo, found

that many of his work-people (natives) consumed large quantities of a kind

of clay; a sample of this material was forwarded to Batavia for analysis,

and the following is the result in 100 parts:

Pitcoal resin, (organic matter volatile

at red heat,)----15.4

Pure carbon,----14.9

Silica,----38.3

Alumina,----27.7

Iron pyrites,----3.7

Total,----100.0

_Photography at the Paris Exhibition_.--On the whole, the art-science

of photography plays its part well at the great French International

Exhibition, and in the collective displays of various nations we find its

numerous and diverse applications, improvements, and modifications fairly

represented. The Austrian collection is a very attractive one, and contains

some of the very best specimens of photo-lithography yet produced; its

specimens of portraiture from life-size downward are of a very excellent

character, and, like those of France, Prussia, and Russia, are decidedly

superior to the English. In the Darmstadt contributions are some

interesting specimens by Dr. Reissiz, exhibited to illustrate his theory of

photogenic action. In the Prussian department a large portrait lens

attracts attention; it is fourteen inches in diameter, and covers a square

of thirty inches. The French department contains some interesting specimens

of photographic-engraving process, of enamelled photographs, and of

enlargements from microscopical photographs, amongst which is one of a flea

enlarged to the size of a small pig. Amongst the novelties and applications

of photography to decorative art are photographs of a singular character,

illustrative of a new process called "Chrysoplasty." They represent

goldsmiths' work, ancient armor, draperies embroidered with gold and

silver, bronze statuary, philosophic instruments, etc., and are apparently

in the same metals as the originals. This process is a secret one, but the

inventor, Mr. Boeringer, is prepared to produce such photographs from any

negatives which may be sent him for that purpose. He is at present making a

large collection of specimens from antique curiosities and works of art in

metal dispersed in the public and private museums of various nations, and

with this end in view appeals to the owners and guardians of such

collections, and those who have negatives of the required description, to

render him assistance. In photographic portraiture, by universal consent,

the French stand prominently foremost, so much so that, as The Times says,

"amongst those articles which are specially called _articles de

Paris_, a good photographic portrait is now to be placed." In the

English department we miss most of our foremost photographers, amongst them

Mr. O. G. Reglandes, Mr. T. R. Williams, and but too many others. Mr.

Mayall, M. Claudet, Lock and Whitfield, Ross, and other of our chief

portraitists exhibit largely, but all show but weak and mean when

contrasted with their rival portraitists as represented in the French

collection. As landscapists English photographers, like English painters,

carry off the palm. Why landscapes by English operators so far surpass

others we cannot explain, but no one with any artistic taste or judgment

would hesitate to attribute the superiority of the French portraits purely

and simply to a more refined taste and greater knowledge of pictorial

science in their producers.

{859}

The English photographs display little merit beyond such as belongs

exclusively to the skilful management of good tools, while the French

photographers are evidently, as a rule, artists studying such things as

lighting, posing and arranging, exposing and developing with considerable

artistic knowledge and preconceived design, the former with a view to

putting a picture before the lens, and the latter with a view to its

faithful reproduction in the operating room. Two of the great secrets of

their greater success will, we believe, be found to reside in the much

longer exposures they give their plates in the camera, and in the use of a

developer not so rapid in its action as to escape control during

development. The great cry in England has been for short exposures and

powerful developers, things which war against the subtle delicacies of

gradations from light to dark, and from darks into reflected lights, which

constitute one of the most special and striking peculiarities of the best

French portraits. Refer back to past volumes of the English photographic

journals, and this craving for extraordinary rapidity coupled with frequent

mention of the extraordinary long exposures given on the continent, where

the light is more powerful and the atmosphere more pure, will be found. You

will also perceive that, while articles tending directly and indirectly to

give mechanical manipulation and good tools all the credit of increased

success crowd their pages to a wearying degree of sameness and repetition,

papers of a truly art-educational character are extremely rare, in

consequence, we have been informed, of the little real appreciation they

meet with from English photographic students. Hence probably the inartistic

and tasteless character displayed by their photographs when contrasted with

those of our more artistic and tasteful neighbors.--_Popular Science

Review._

------

Original.

New Publications.

Melpomene Divina; or, Poems' on Christian Themes.

By Christopher Laoinedon Pindar.

Philadelphia: J. B. Lippincott & Co. 1867.

This is an elegant little volume, but not a volume of elegant poetry. We

feel unwilling to speak adversely of the effusions of a youthful author,

(we suppose his youth from several poems given as "youthful efforts" as

late as the year 1861,) but the truth must be honestly told, if told at

all, both for young and old; and the truth is, that this book contains many

easy rhymes, but very little poetic thought. The verses, too often faulty

in rhythm, abound with sentences that can hardly be called good English,

as, for instance, (p. 90:)

"He gazed and gazed, and deeper still

The soft attachment grew,

And nearer to the charmful maid

His loving soul him drew."

And again, (p. 172;)

"Only pray I thee, whom first saint

In America God chose,

Grant that countless maids may rival

In my land thee, heavenly Rose!"

In a little translation entitled The Fisher's Wife we find a verse which

will illustrate the desire we now express that the writer had husbanded his

poetical ability, and allowed it to find expression in a lesser number of

poems more carefully worded. He might then have given us a volume of some

merit. We quote:

"'O horror and woe! now breaks my poor heart!

Out must I to gain relief!'

She cries, and rushes from out the house,

The mother in fear and grief.

"And silently drifts a corse to the shore

Strewn with trees and sedge and tan;

There lies he all naked on the black sand:

'O merciful God! my man!'"

{860}

With so many evidences of the author's acquaintance with the classic poets

upon these pages, we are surprised to meet with such words as "bluey,"

"bleaky," "browny," and the like; together with elisions, as "'T" for "it,"

to begin a line; "need'd" for "needed;" and such unwarrantable extensions

as giving three syllables to words like "Christian," "solely," etc. We feel

so much pleased, however, with his modest introduction to the volume that

we will allow him to speak here for himself: "That the book is very

imperfect, I am fully convinced of; that it be but taken by another as a

spur to elicit a more perfect one in illustration of a similar theme, is my

earnest desire. The many and almost unceasing demands of a higher order

have allowed me to bestow only a few 'tempora subseciva' on a work to which

I would have gladly devoted day and night. As such it can hardly be

anything else than deficient in many respects. Yet if I be the cause of

giving to but one person the pleasure of a moment in perusing these pages,

and still more, if one be thence inspired to send a whisper of love to the

saintly beings carolled in them, I shall consider myself happy, and my

labors more than sufficiently repaid."

----

The Two Roads,

Gabriel,

Martha,

Bread Of Forgiveness,

Flowers From Heaven,

Fragments Of Correspondence.

P. O. Shea, Publisher, New York.

This is a series of beautiful stories, from the French, on the beatitudes.

They are well translated, and published in good style.

----

Science Of Happiness; or, The Beatitudes in Practice.

By Mader Bourdon.

P. O. Shea, New York.

This volume contains the stories mentioned above bound together, so as to

make another book.

----

Studies In The Gospels.

By Richard Chenevix Trench, D.D.

New-York: Charles Scribner & Co.

The author of this volume is well known from his valuable philological

works. This volume of Studies is composed of sixteen chapters of expository

notes on different parables and events recorded in the gospels. He has made

free use of the standard commentaries, both Catholic and Protestant. We

cannot attach any critical value to the work, as we observe that, where

Maldonatus and the fathers go against the system to which he is committed,

he passes over what they have said, and gives us instead the opinion of

Calvin or his own. The volume contains, however, many suggestive thoughts,

clothed in pure, good English. The typographical appearance of the volume

is remarkably good.

----

Mr. P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, has in press, and will soon publish,

The new Life of St. Aloysius Gonzaga, edited by Edward Healy Thompson,

and which has just appeared in London. It will make a volume of about

four hundred pages.

Messrs. Benziger Bros., New York and Cincinnati, are about to publish

Rome and the Popes: translated from the German of Dr. Karl Brandes, by

Rev. W. T. Wiseman, Professor of Church History in Seton Hall Seminary.