"The testimony of the little girl affords all the

security that can be desired. Her sincerity cannot be

doubted. No one who comes in contact with her can fail

to admire her childish simplicity, candor, and modesty.

While everybody is engaged in discussing these marvels,

she keeps silence; she speaks only when questioned,

and then relates everything without affectation, and

with touching ingenuousness. She returns unhesitating,

clear, and precise answers to the questions which are

put to her, and conveys the impression of most perfect

conviction of what she says.

"Though subjected to rude trials, she has never been

shaken by threats. The most generous offers she has

rejected with perfect disinterestedness. Always

perfectly consistent, she has maintained her original

statements throughout the numberless examinations

she has undergone, without adding or withdrawing

anything. The sincerity of Bernadette is, therefore,

incontestable. We may add, it is uncontested. Those who

have opposed her have rendered her this homage at least.

"But, admitting that she has not intended to deceive

others, has she not been herself deceived? Has she

not imagined that she saw something where nothing,

in fact, existed? Has she not been the victim of a

hallucination? The good sense displayed in her answers

reveals an accurate mind, a quiet imagination, and

a sound judgment, surpassing her age. Her religious

sentiments have never possessed the character of

enthusiasm; nothing has been remarked about the

young girl indicating intellectual disorder, or any

eccentricity of character, any alteration of the

senses or morbid affection which predispose her to

imaginations of this kind. She has had this vision,

not once, but eighteen times; then, it has appeared

suddenly, when nothing could have prepared her for what

was about to take place; and, during the fortnight when

she daily expected it, she saw nothing for two days,

though placed in circumstances entirely similar to

those of the previous occasion.

"But what took place during the time of these

apparitions? A complete transformation was effected

in Bernadette herself. Her countenance assumed a new

expression, her features were lit up; she saw things

which she had never seen before, and heard a language

which she does not ordinarily understand, but of which

she preserved the memory. These combined circumstances

do not admit the possibility of hallucination. The

little girl has really seen and heard a being who calls

herself the Immaculate Conception; and, since we cannot

explain this phenomenon naturally, we are forced to

attribute it to a supernatural cause.

"The testimony of Bernadette derives additional force,

its confirmation, we should say, from the wonderful

events which have accompanied it throughout.

"If the tree is to be judged by its fruits, we can

certainly say that the apparition described by the

little girl is supernatural and divine. For it has

produced supernatural and divine effects. What,

then, has happened, dearly beloved? Scarcely was the

apparition made known, when the news spread with the

rapidity of lightning. It was known that Bernadette was

to visit the grotto daily for a fortnight. The whole

land is astir. Streams of people flow to the place of

apparition. They await, with religious impatience,

the solemn hour. And when the girl appears, rapt and

absorbed in the object of her ecstasy, the witnesses

of this prodigy, moved and softened, are melted in a

sentiment of admiration and prayer. The apparitions

have now ceased, but the throng continues. Pilgrims

come from distant lands. Every age and rank and

condition is to be seen kneeling before the grotto.

What sentiment moves these countless visitors? Ah!

they come to the grotto to implore the special help of

the Immaculate Mary. They prove by their recollected

mien that they breathe the divine atmosphere which

surrounds these hallowed rocks, already become famous.

Christian souls are strengthened in virtue; men frozen

up by indifference are brought back to the practice of

religion; hardened sinners are reconciled to God when

Our Lady of Lourdes has been invoked in their behalf.

These wonders of grace, which are complete and lasting,

can have no author save God. Do they not strikingly

confirm the truth of the apparitions? If we now pass

from effects wrought for the salvation of souls to

those which concern the healing of bodily ills, how

many prodigies must we not recount?"

Our readers have not forgotten the breaking forth of the spring, at

which Bernadette drank and washed, before the assembled crowds. It

will be superfluous to repeat these details. The bishop continues:

"Sick persons have made use of the water, and not

without success. Many, whose diseases have resisted

most energetic treatment, have suddenly recovered

health. These extraordinary cures have been noised

abroad. Invalids from all quarters have sent for this

Massabielle water, when unable to transport themselves

to the grotto.

"How many infirm have been cured, how many afflicted

families have been consoled!

"If we wished to call for their testimony, countless

voices would be lifted up in acknowledgment of the

sovereign efficacy of this water. We cannot here

enumerate all the favors obtained; but what we are

obliged to say, is, that the Massabielle water has

cured desperate invalids who had been declared

incurable. These cures have been worked by the use of

water devoid of any healing properties, according to

the acknowledgments of skilful chemists, after rigorous

analysis. Some cures have been wrought instantaneously,

others after using the water twice or thrice as a drink

or lotion. Moreover, these cures are permanent. What

power has wrought them? Some organic power? Science

answers negatively. They are, therefore, the work of

God. But, they refer to the apparitions; these are

their source; these have inspired the sick people with

confidence. Hence, there is an intimate connection

between the cures and the apparitions. The apparition

is divine, because the cures bear the seal of divine

power. But that which comes from God is true; and,

therefore, the apparition which Bernadette saw and

heard, and which gave itself the name of the Immaculate

Conception, is the Blessed Virgin herself. Well may we

cry out: The finger of God is here! _Digitus Dei est

hic._

"How, then, can any one fail to admire the economy

of divine Providence? At the end of the year 1854,

the immortal Pius IX. proclaimed the dogma of the

Immaculate Conception. The whole earth re-echoed the

words of its supreme pastor; Catholic hearts trembled

with joy, and everywhere the glorious privilege of

Mary was celebrated by _fêtes_, which will ever remain

graven in the memory of those who witnessed them. And,

behold, three years afterward, the Blessed Virgin

appears to one of our children, and says: I am the

Immaculate Conception: here will I have a chapel built

in my honor. Does she not seem to desire to consecrate

by this monument the infallible oracle of St. Peter?

"Where will she have this monument erected? At the foot

of our own Pyrenees, where many strangers meet from all

parts of the world to seek health at our waters. May we

not say that she invites the faithful of all nations

to come and honor her in the new temple which shall be

built to her?

"Citizens of Lourdes, rejoice! The august Mary

condescends to cast upon you her merciful eyes.

She desires to build beside your walls a sanctuary

stored with blessings. Thank her for this token of

predilection; and, since she lavishes her motherly

tenderness upon you, show yourselves her children by

imitating her virtues, and by a fixed attachment to

religion.

"It is with joy that we acknowledge the fruits of

salvation which the apparition has already caused to

spring up abundantly among you. Eye-witnesses of the

events at the grotto and their happy results, your

confidence has been as great as your conviction has

been strong. We have ever admired your prudence and

docility in following our counsels of obedience and

submission to the civil authority, when for some weeks

you were hindered from visiting the grotto, and were

forced to restrain in your own hearts the sentiments

inspired by what you had there beheld during the

fortnight of the apparitions.

"And you, our well-beloved children, open your hearts

to hope. A new era of grace and benediction has

dawned upon you; you are called to share in what has

been promised to all. In your prayers and canticles,

henceforth, you will mingle the name of Our Lady

of Lourdes with the blessed titles of Our Lady of

Garaison, of Poeylaün, of Héas, and of Piétat.

"From these sanctuaries the Immaculate Virgin will

watch over you, and cover you with the shield of her

protection. Yes, beloved co-laborers and dearest

brethren, if, with hearts full of confidence, we fix

our glance upon this 'Star of the Sea,' we shall pass

without fear of shipwreck through the tempests of life,

and arrive safely in the haven of eternal bliss.

"WHEREFORE:

"Having consulted with our venerable brethren, the

dignitaries, canons, and chapter of our cathedral

church;

"The holy name of God having been invoked; following

the rules laid down by Benedict XIV., in his work

on _Beatification and Canonization of Saints_, for

discerning true and false apparitions; seeing the

favorable report of the commission charged with the

examination of the apparition at the grotto of Lourdes,

and the facts connected with it;

"Seeing the written testimony of the medical doctors,

whom we have consulted in reference to the numerous

cures obtained by use of water from this grotto;

"Considering, in the first place, that the fact of the

apparition, whether in regard to the effects produced

upon her who saw it, or its other extraordinary

results, cannot be explained by natural means;

"Considering, secondly, that the cause cannot be other

than divine, by reason of the effects which have

followed its operation, such as the conversion of

sinners and derogation from the fixed laws of nature,

namely, miraculous cures, which can only come from him

who is the author of grace and nature;

"Considering, finally, that our own conviction is

strengthened by the immense and spontaneous concourse

of the faithful, which has never ceased at the grotto

since the first apparitions, and whose only object is

to implore favors or return thanks for those which have

been already obtained;

"In response to the just impatience of our venerable

chapter, of the clergy and laity of our diocese, and of

so many pious souls who have long been calling upon the

ecclesiastical authority for a decision which prudence

has caused us hitherto to refrain from giving;

"Desiring, also, to satisfy the wishes of several

of our colleagues in the episcopate, and of many

distinguished strangers to our diocese;

"Having invoked the light of the Holy Ghost, and the

assistance of the Blessed Virgin,

WE HAVE DECLARED, AND HEREBY

DECLARE AS FOLLOWS:

"Art. 1. We, decide that the Immaculate Mary, the

Mother of God, really did appear to Bernadette

Soubirous, on the eleventh of February, 1858, and on

several days following, altogether eighteen times, in

the Massabielle Grotto, near the town of Lourdes; that

this apparition has every guarantee of truth, and that

the faithful have solid reason for believing it to be

certain.

"We submit ourselves humbly to the judgment of the

Sovereign Pontiff, to whom belongs the government of

the universal church.

"Art. 2. We authorize in our diocese the worship of

Our Lady of the Grotto of Lourdes; but we prohibit any

particular prayers, any canticle, any book of devotion,

to be published on this subject without our written

approbation.

"Art. 3. In conformity with the desire of the Blessed

Virgin, several times expressed during her apparitions,

we propose to build a shrine on the site of the grotto,

which has now become the property of the Bishop of

Tarbes.

"This edifice, on account of its steep and rocky

foundation, will require great labor and expense.

We need, therefore, to carry out our design, the

assistance of the priests and faithful of our own

diocese, of our country, France, and also from abroad.

We appeal to all generous hearts, and particularly to

all persons of every country who are devoted to the

worship of the Immaculate Virgin Mary.

"Art. 4. We address with confidence all institutions

of either sex consecrated to the education of youth,

to the congregations of the 'Children of Mary,' to the

confraternities of the Blessed Virgin, and other pious

societies of our own diocese, and throughout France.

"This, our pastoral, shall be read and published in

all the churches, chapels, seminaries, colleges, and

hospices of our diocese on the Sunday following its

reception.

"Given at Tarbes, in our episcopal palace, under our

seal and signature, and the counter-signature of our

secretary, January 18, 1862, being the feast of the

Chair of St. Peter at Rome.

"✠ BERTRAND-SRE., _Bishop of Tarbes_.

"By order, FOURCADE, _Canon-Secretary_."

VIII.

In the name of his see, or, rather, in that of the church, Mgr.

Laurence purchased from the town of Lourdes the grotto and the

surrounding lands, and the whole group of Massabielle rocks. M.

Lacadé was still mayor. He it was who proposed to the municipal

council to cede to the church, the bride of Christ, those places

which had been consecrated for ever by the appearance of his heavenly

Mother. He, also, signed the deed of transfer.

M. Rouland authorized the sale, and also the erection of a church

in perpetual memory of the apparition of the Blessed Virgin to

Bernadette Soubirous, in memory of the fountain and the numberless

miracles which had attested the heavenly visions.

While the vast temple dedicated to the Immaculate Conception was

slowly rising, stone upon stone, Our Lady of Lourdes continued to

shower blessings and graces upon her clients. At Paris and Bordeaux,

in Perigord, Brittany, and Anjou, amid solitary and rural scenes and

in the heart of popular cities, Our Lady of Lourdes was invoked, and

answered with unquestionable signs of her power and goodness.

Before closing our recital and presenting the picture of things as

they now exist, let us narrate two of these divine histories. One of

them forms an episode in the life of the writer of these pages which

nothing can ever efface from his memory. We give it as we wrote it

down nearly seven years ago.

PART X.

I.

During my whole life, I had always enjoyed the blessing of good

sight. I was able to distinguish objects at a great distance, and

also to read with ease when my book was close to my eyes. I never

suffered the least weakness of sight after whole nights passed in

study. I often wondered and rejoiced at the strength and clearness of

my vision. Thus, it was a great surprise and a cruel disenchantment

when in June and July, 1862, I felt my eyesight becoming gradually

weak, unable to work at night, and, finally, incapable of any use,

so that I was obliged to give up altogether reading and writing.

If I chanced to pick up a book, after reading three or four lines,

sometimes at the first glance, I felt such weakness in the upper

part of my eyes as to render it impossible to continue. I consulted

several physicians, and principally the two famous oculists, Desmares

and Giraud-Teulon.

The remedies prescribed by them were of little or no avail. After

a slight rest, and a treatment principally composed of iron, I had

a slight respite, and once read during a considerable portion of

the afternoon. But, the following day, I relapsed into my former

condition. Then I began to try local remedies, applications of

cold water on the ball of the eye, cupping on the neck, a general

hydropathic treatment, and alcoholic lotions around the eyes.

Sometimes I experienced a slight relief from the weariness which

generally oppressed them, but this was only for a moment. In short,

my disease assumed all the appearances of a chronic and incurable

malady.

According to advice, I condemned my eyes to absolute repose. Not

content with putting on blue eye-glasses, I had left Paris, and

was living in the country with my mother, at Coux, on the banks of

the Dordogne. I had taken with me a young person, who acted as my

secretary, writing at my dictation, and who read to me the books

which I wished to consult.

September had arrived. This state had lasted for three months. I

began to be seriously alarmed. I felt a gloomy foreboding which

I dared not communicate to any one. My family shared the same

apprehensions, but likewise shrank from manifesting them. We were

both convinced that my sight was gone, but both sought to reassure

one another, and to conceal our mutual anxiety.

I had a most intimate friend, in whom I had confided from boyhood

all my joys and sorrows. I dictated to my secretary a letter to him,

in which I described my sad condition, and the fears which I had for

the future. The friend of whom I speak is a Protestant, as is also

his wife. This twofold circumstance requires to be mentioned. Grave

reasons prevent me from giving his name. We shall call him M. de ----.

He answered my letter a few days afterward. His letter reached me on

the fifteenth of September, and surprised me greatly. I transcribe it

here, without changing a word:

"MY DEAR FRIEND: Your few lines gave me great pleasure; but, as

I have told you before, I long to hear from you in _your own

handwriting_. A few days ago, as I returned from Cauterets, I passed

through Lourdes (in the neighborhood of Tarbes). I visited the famous

grotto, and heard about the extraordinary things that have been

taking place there, and the cures produced by the waters in cases of

diseased eyes. I earnestly recommend you to try it. If I were like

you, a believing Catholic, and laboring under any illness, I would

certainly try this chance. If it be true that invalids have been

suddenly cured, perhaps your name may swell the number. If it be not

true, where is the risk? I may add that I am personally interested

in this matter. If the experiment succeeds, what an important fact

for me to face! I would be in the presence of a miraculous event, or,

at any rate, an event whose principal witness would be above all

suspicion."

"It appears," he added in post-script, "that it is not necessary to

go to Lourdes itself to take the water there, since you can have

it sent. It is only necessary to ask the curé of Lourdes; he will

forward it without delay. Certain conditions have to be fulfilled of

which I am not perfectly informed, but of which the curé of Lourdes

will tell you. Ask him also to send you the little pamphlet by the

vicar-general of Tarbes, which gives an account of the miracles that

have been most thoroughly proved."

This letter of my friend was well calculated to fill me with

astonishment. His was an exact, positive, and at the same time a

lofty mind, not at all liable to the illusions of enthusiasm, and,

besides, he was a Protestant. Such a piece of advice coming from

him, in such an urgent manner, filled me with amazement. However, I

resolved not to follow it.

"It seems to me," I replied, "that I am to-day a little better. If

this improvement continues, I shall not have need of your proposed

and extraordinary remedy, for which, besides, I have not, perhaps,

the necessary faith."

And here, I must confess, not without a blush, the secret motives of

my resistance.

Whatever I may have said, it was not faith which was lacking; and,

although ignorant of particulars concerning the water of Lourdes,

except through the impertinent remarks of certain ill-disposed

journals, I was certain that the power of God could be manifested

by cures here as well as elsewhere. I will say more: I had a secret

presentiment that if I tried this water, springing, as some said,

in consequence of an apparition of the Blessed Virgin, I should be

cured. But, to tell the simple truth, I feared the responsibility of

such a favor. "If the doctor cures you," I said to myself, "every

account is squared as soon as you have handed him his fee. You will

be in the same condition as everybody else. But if God cures you by a

special act of his providence, it will be quite another affair, and

you will have to amend your life and become a saint. If God gives you

back those eyes of yours with his own hands, how can you ever let

them rest upon objects which draw you away from him? God will demand

his fee; and it will amount to more than the doctor's. You must give

up this and that bad habit, you must acquire such and such virtues,

and others that you know nothing of. How will you do all this? Ah!

this is too hard!" And my miserable heart, fearing its own weakness,

nevertheless resisted the grace of God.

Thus it was I rebelled against the counsel given me to have recourse

to this miraculous intervention--against that counsel which

Providence, ever hidden in its ways, sent me by two Protestants, two

heretics, outside the church. But my struggles and resistance were

vain. An interior voice told me that the hand of man was powerless to

cure me, and that the Master whom I had offended would return me my

sight, and lead me to a new life, if I would make up my mind to use

it well.

Meanwhile, my condition was either stationary or slowly becoming

worse.

In the early part of October, I was obliged to go to Paris. By an

unlooked-for chance, M. de ---- and his wife were there at the same

time. My first visit was to them. My friend was staying at his

sister's, Madame P----, who lived, together with her husband, in

Paris.

"And how are your eyes?" asked Madame de ---- as soon as I had

entered the parlor.

"They are always in the same condition; I begin to fear that they are

gone."

"But why have you not tried the remedy that I proposed? I have a

strange hope that you will be cured."

"Pshaw!" I replied; "I confess that, without precisely denying or

showing myself hostile, I have but little faith in this water and

apparition. It is perfectly possible, I admit; but as I have not

examined the matter, I neither assert nor contest; I wash my hands of

the whole affair, and do not intend to have anything to do with it."

"You have no valid objections," he answered. "According to your

religious principles, you are bound to believe at least the

possibility of such things. Very well, then, what is to prevent you

from making a trial? What is it going to cost you? It can't do you

any harm, for it is nothing but natural water. Now, since you believe

in miracles and in your religion, it seems to me that you ought to

be moved by two Protestants; and I frankly confess that, if you are

cured, it will be a terrible argument against me." Madame de ----

joined her entreaties to those of her husband. M. and Madame P----,

who are Catholics, insisted as warmly. I was driven to my last

entrenchments.

"Well," said I at last, "let me tell you the whole truth. I do not

lack faith, but I am full of weaknesses, faults, and a thousand

miseries which are entwined with the most sensitive fibres of my

nature. Now, a miracle would lay upon me the obligation of giving

up everything and trying to become a saint; and I do not feel equal

to the responsibility. If God cures me, how do I know what he will

ask of me? But if the doctor succeeds, we can settle the matter with

money. You think this is disgraceful, I know; but it is nothing but

the truth. You have supposed that my faith has been wavering. You

have thought that I feared lest the miracle should not succeed. It is

not so. I should be only afraid that it might succeed."

My friends vainly tried to convince me that I was exaggerating the

responsibility of which I spoke.

"You are none the less obliged to seek after virtue now than if

the miracle had been already worked," said M. de ----. "Besides,

supposing the physician does cure you, it will be none the less

a favor from God; and you will have just the same reasons for

struggling against your faults and passions."

This did not seem to me perfectly true; and the logical mind of M.

de ---- probably admitted as much to itself; but he was bent upon

calming my apprehensions and inducing me to follow his advice.

Vainly did I endeavor to combat the pressing earnestness of my host

and his wife, and my friends. I ended by promising to do whatever

they desired.

"As soon as I get a secretary, I will write to Lourdes; but it is too

late at this hour of the day."

"But I will do, will I not?" answered my friend.

"Very well," said I, "come and breakfast with me to-morrow at the

_Café de Foy_. I will dictate the letter after breakfast."

"Why not do it now? We will save one day."

Paper and ink were at hand. I dictated a letter to the curé of

Lourdes. It was posted that evening.

The next day, M. de ---- came to see me. "My dear friend," he said,

"since the die is cast, and you are going to try this experiment,

you ought to go seriously to work, and fulfil the conditions which

are required in order to make a success. You must pray. You will have

to go to confession, and put your mind in the proper state. You know

that all this is a prime necessity."

"You are right," I replied; "I will do as you say. But you must

acknowledge that you are a queer Protestant. The tables are turned;

to-day you are preaching to me my own faith and religion, and I own

the contrast is not much to my advantage."

"I am a man of science," he answered. "It is perfectly natural that

I should wish to see all the conditions carried out, since we have

agreed to try an experiment. I should act in this manner if we were

dealing with physics or chemistry."

I confess, to my shame, I did not prepare myself as my friend had

so wisely advised me. I was in a very poor spiritual condition; my

soul was distracted and turned to evil. I recognized the necessity

of throwing myself at the feet of God; but, as I had not been guilty

of gross and brutal sins, against which nature reacts with such

violence, I delayed from day to day. Man is more rebellious against

the sacrament of penance while he is being tempted, than after he

has been crushed and humbled by the sight of his crime. It is more

difficult to combat and resist than to ask for mercy after defeat.

Who does not know this?

A week passed in this manner. M. and Mme. de ---- inquired daily if I

had heard any news of the miraculous water, or any word from the curé

of Lourdes. Finally, I received a note from him to the effect that

the water had been forwarded by rail, and would shortly reach me.

We awaited its arrival with great eagerness; but, strange to say, my

Protestant friends were much more impatient than I. The state of my

eyes continued the same. It was absolutely impossible for me to read

or write.

One morning, Friday, October 10, 1862, I was waiting for M. de ----

in the Orleans Gallery at the Palais Royal. We breakfasted together.

As I had come to the place of meeting some time in advance of him, I

employed myself in looking about the shops and reading the list of

new books in front of Dentu's library. This was enough to weary my

eyes. They had become so weak that I could not let them rest upon the

largest signs without feeling them overpowered by lassitude. This

little circumstance made me quite sad, as it showed me the extent of

my malady.

In the afternoon I dictated three letters to De ----, and, at four

o'clock, having left him, returned to my lodgings. As I was going

up-stairs, the porter called to me.

"A little box has come for you from the railroad." I entered his

store-room eagerly. There was a small pine box, bearing my name and

address on one end, and on the other these words, doubtless intended

for the custom-house officials, "Natural Water."

It was from Lourdes.

I felt greatly excited; but did not betray any emotion.

"Very well," said I to the porter, "I will take it in a few moments;

I will return shortly." I stepped out again into the street.

"This matter is becoming serious," I said to myself. "De ---- is

right; I must prepare myself. In my present state, I have no right

to ask God to work a miracle. I must set to work to heal my own soul

before I can ask him to heal my body."

Reflecting on these considerations, I directed my steps toward the

house of my confessor, the Abbé Ferrand de Missol, who lived quite

near me. I felt certain of finding him in, for it was Friday, and he

is always at home on that day. So indeed he was upon this occasion.

But several persons were waiting to see him, whose turn would

naturally come before mine. Some member of his family had just

arrived on an unexpected visit. His servant informed me of all this,

and asked me to call again in the evening about seven o'clock.

I resigned myself to my lot.

As I came to the street-door, I paused for an instant. I wavered

between the desire of paying a visit which I had greatly at heart and

the thought of returning home to pray. I was very much inclined to

the distraction, but finally the good inspiration carried the day,

and I returned toward the Rue Seine.

I took from the porter the little box, to which was attached a

notice of the apparition at Lourdes, and, with both in my hand, I

hastened up-stairs. On reaching my room, I knelt down at my bedside

and prayed, all unworthy as I was to turn my eyes toward heaven.

Then I arose. On entering, I had placed the little box and the

pamphlet upon the mantelpiece. I gazed a moment upon the little case

which contained the mysterious water, and it seemed to me that some

great event was about to transpire in this lonely chamber. I feared

to touch with impure hands the wood which contained this hallowed

water, and yet, on the other hand, I felt a lively desire to open

it at once, and not wait until after I had been to confession. This

indecision lasted for a few moments, and ended with this prayer:

"O my God! I am a wretched sinner, unworthy of raising my voice to

you, or of touching that which you have blessed. But this very excess

of misery ought to excite your compassion. My God, I come to you and

to the Most Blessed Virgin Mary, full of faith and reliance upon you,

and from the depths I cry to you. This evening I will confess my sins

to your minister, but my faith will not suffer me to wait. Pardon me,

Lord, and heal me. And you, O Mother of Mercy! come to the help of

your unhappy child!"

And, feeling strengthened by my prayer, I opened the box. It

contained a bottle of pure water. I uncorked it, poured some of the

water into a glass, and took a napkin from the drawer.

These commonplace preparations, which I made with care, were

accompanied by a secret solemnity, the memory of which still haunts

me. In that room I was not alone. God was there certainly; and the

Blessed Virgin, whom I had invoked, was also there.

Ardent faith inflamed my soul. When all was ready, I knelt down

again. "O Blessed Virgin Mary!" I cried in a loud voice, "heal my

physical and spiritual blindness." Saying these words, with a heart

full of confidence, I bathed successively both eyes and my forehead

with the napkin which I had dipped in the water. This did not occupy

more than half a minute.

Judge of my astonishment--I had almost said my terror! Scarcely had

I touched my eyes and forehead with the miraculous water than I felt

myself cured, at once, without transition, with a suddenness which I

can compare only to lightning.

Strange contradiction of human nature! A moment before I had trusted

my faith, which promised me a cure; now, I could not believe my

senses, which assured me that the cure had been worked.

No! I did not believe my senses. In spite of the startling effect

which had been wrought upon me, I committed the fault of which Moses

was guilty, and struck the rock twice. I continued to bathe my eyes

and forehead, not daring to open them, not daring to verify my cure.

At the end of ten minutes, however, the strength which I felt in my

eyes, and the absence of all heaviness, left no chance for doubt. "I

am cured!"

So saying, I snatched up a book. "No," said I, "that is not the

book for me to be reading at this moment." Then I took from the

mantelpiece the _Account of the Apparitions at Lourdes_. I read a

hundred and four pages without stopping or feeling the least fatigue.

Twenty minutes before, I could not have read three lines. Indeed, if

I stopped at the hundred-and-fourth page, it was only because it was

thirty-five minutes past five o'clock, and at this hour in October it

is almost dark in Paris. When I laid aside my book, the gas was being

lighted in the shops of the street in which I lived.

That evening, I made my confession to the Abbé Ferrand, and

acquainted him with the great gift which I had received from the

Blessed Virgin. Although in no degree prepared, he wished me to go to

communion the next day, to thank God for such an extraordinary favor,

and to strengthen the good resolutions which it had caused to spring

up in my soul.

M. and Mme. de ---- were, as one may imagine, greatly moved by this

event, in which Providence had assigned them so direct a part. What

did they think of it? What reflections were suggested to their minds?

What took place in the depth of their hearts? That secret belongs

only to them and to God. What little I have been able to make out, I

am not at liberty to publish.

Be this as it may, I know my friend's nature. I left him to his

own thoughts, without urging him to the conclusion. I knew, and

still know, that God has his own time and his own ways. His action

was so manifest throughout the whole affair that I did not wish to

interfere, although my friends have never been ignorant of my desire

to see them enter the only church which contains God in his fulness.

I regret not being able to consider these two beings--so dear to

me--as receiving from the reaction of the miracle of which I had been

the object the first shocks which truth gives to those whom it seeks

to conquer.

* * * * *

Seven years have now passed since my miraculous cure. My sight is

excellent. Neither reading nor hard work, even when kept up late at

night, wearies my eyes. God grant me never to use them save in the

cause of right.

FOOTNOTE:

[213] Notre Dame de Garaison.

AMERICA'S OBLIGATIONS TO FRANCE.

The woes and crimes of unhappy France have attracted the mixed

regards of the world; it has become an agreeable and timely diversion

to look away from the distressing picture, to find whatever there

is of compensation in the glories and virtues of her past; and the

occasion is thus created to review our own obligations as a nation

to this now stricken and humbled European power, and to determine

how much we are indebted to France for our own independence and

liberty. Another interest is added to the occasion in the fact

that this part of our history has been but scantily told, and

that, as the writer is persuaded, our national vanity, notoriously

accumulated as it is about everything belonging to the Revolutionary

period, has hitherto prevented a fair and full confession of the

obligations referred to--has diminished the story, if not actually

misrepresented it. But it is a mistaken vanity, the very opposite

of a manly pride. A sentiment of the illustrious Lafayette fits in

here. A citizen of both France and America, he stood between the

two, and spoke happily for each, saying: "Comme un Français, dont

le cœur brûle de patriotisme, je me réjouis du rôle que la France a

joué, et de l'alliance qu'elle a fait. Comme Americain, je reconnais

l'obligation, et je crois qu'en cela consiste la vraie dignité."

The severe truth of history and the constraints of true dignity alike

compel the statement, that but for the French interposition the

cause of the American colonists was likely to be lost; at least,

that our independence would not have been obtained when it was, and

as completely as it was, but for the succors of France. And this

proposition, the writer thinks, may be made out from a summary view

of the history of the period, yet calling attention to some facts

that do not appear hitherto to have been calculated.

Accustomed as we are, in looking back upon the history of our

Revolutionary struggle, to dwell upon its last signal triumphs, and

naturally disposed to measure the preceding events by the conclusion,

it is difficult for us of this day to realize how narrowly it avoided

defeat, and in what extremity it at one time hesitated. In the winter

of 1780, and at a time when the aid of France was most urgently

implored, the American cause was almost at its last gasp. Many of

its leaders had secretly despaired of it, and found it difficult

to impose upon the public the countenance of hope. In a private

letter, Mr. Madison wrote: "How a total dissolution of the army

can be prevented in the course of the winter" [1780-1781] "is, for

any resources now in prospect, utterly inexplicable." There was no

money to pay the troops; and the fact was that the war was no longer

kept up but by ill-digested and dilatory expedients. Meanwhile, the

fate of arms accumulated against the colonists, and the fortunes

of the field were as bad as the embarrassments of the interior

administration. The more Southern States appeared to be already lost

by the irruptions of the enemy upon an indefensible coast; and the

whole army of General Greene was soon to be in full retreat before

Lord Cornwallis through the State of North Carolina.

The two great wants of the colonists, and which had become vital,

were _money_ and a _fleet_. "The sinews of war" were nearly spent.

The paper money of Congress was fast becoming worthless; the resource

to specific requisitions was a mere indirection as long as the states

supplied them by paper emissions of their own; and of this resource

it was prophesied in Congress that "what was intended for our relief

will only hasten our destruction."

The want of a counterpoise to the naval power of England was the

main point of the military situation. Here was a fatal weakness; and

events had progressed far enough to show that the hope of a decisive

field anywhere in the colonies depended upon their maintaining a

naval superiority in the American seas. In weighing the chances

of the war, the configuration of the American territory is to be

studied; and how vulnerable it was from the water had already been

proved by the events of the war. At the time of the Revolution,

the breadth of the American settlements from the Penobscot to

the Altamaha did not average more than a hundred miles from the

sea-line. This jagged strip of territory, traversed by estuaries and

navigable streams, was so accessible to the enemy's vessels, that

his navy might be considered as constantly equivalent to a second

army operating on the flank of that engaged on shore. Wherever

Washington might move, this apparition would cling to him--his flank

constantly threatened, and every movement he made on land compelled

to calculate the possibility of a counter-movement by the English

fleet that hovered on the coast, and might develop an attack with

greater expedition than he could change his front to meet it. It was

the thorn in his side. When the baffled American commander spoke of

retiring into the mountains of Virginia for a last desperate stand,

it was not a rhetorical flourish, as it has generally been accounted,

but a true military appreciation of the situation--the necessity of a

barrier against the naval power of the enemy. If that barrier could

be made on the water by the interposition of a fleet, then he would

be (what he had not hitherto been) free to operate on the land, and

make there a field that might be decisive. But the element of any

such strategic combination was naval supremacy, and, until that was

obtained, he could only hope at best for a desultory warfare, with

constant exposure to a risk that he could neither meet nor avoid.

Now, the two vital wants of America--a foreign loan and a naval

armament--were those which were precisely supplied by France. A

foreign loan of specie, to the amount of twenty-five millions of

livres, was asked of his Most Christian Majesty; and Franklin,

reinforced by Col. Laurens, was instructed to impress the French king

and his ministers with the especial need of a demonstration against

the naval power of England. The succors were granted, and were beyond

the expectations of the colonists. In July, 1780, the first French

expedition, under the command of the Count Rochambeau, landed at

Newport. And from that moment a new hope commenced for America, and

a new inspiration was to bring to sudden buoyancy a sinking cause.

The French force, however, was held inoperative for some time for

the want of a sufficient navy to co-operate; and to this end the

supplications of Congress to the French monarch had been redoubled.

The expedition of Rochambeau consisted of five thousand men. It was

to be reinforced by a fleet from the West Indies; but the orders

had miscarried; and it was more than a year later when the second

instalment of French aid was made available, and the conditions

realized which fixed the last field of the war, and secured that

final victory to which the French aids, by land and by water, were

each indispensable. To this second aid reference will be made in its

order.

Usually, a foreign contingent is not the best of the military

material which a country may afford. The hireling and the adventurer

enter largely into its composition, and its standard of service is

low and suspicious. But this common imputation could not be cast on

the expeditionary corps under Rochambeau. It was of the flower of

the French army, and nobility did not disdain the service of the

infant Republic. The illustrious Lafayette stood by himself, being a

volunteer, and independent of the action of the royal forces. "The

Marquis," as Washington never failed to punctiliously call him, won

all hearts in America; and, though accused by Thomas Jefferson, who,

however, was habitually envious, of having "a canine thirst for

popularity," there is good reason to believe that he was actuated

by a solid attachment to liberty and inspired by generous motives.

Anyhow, he was destined, as we shall see, to perform one of the

most brilliant and critical services of the Revolution. The Count

Rochambeau was never popular in America; his manners were haughty,

and he had a military exclusiveness; but he was an excellent soldier,

and at one time he gave a striking example of his deference to

republican principles in submitting to be arrested, in a group of

his officers, at the hands of a petty county constable, on the

complaint of a New England farmer for some acts of petty "trespass"

on his fields! In his command, landed at Newport, there were names

already illustrious in France, or destined to become so. Of such

names were the Chevalier de Chastellux, performing the duties of

major-general in the expeditionary corps, an encyclopædist and the

friend of Voltaire; Berthier, afterwards risen from the rank of an

under-officer to be a marshal of France and minister of war; the

Count de Ségur, celebrated in literary as well as military life; the

Duke de Lauzun, afterwards a general of the French Republic; the

Count de Dillon, who, a few years later, met a tragic fate at the

hands of the Revolutionary party in France; Pichegru, then a private

in the ranks of the artillery; Matthieu Dumas, subsequently a peer of

France; Aubert-Dubayet, afterwards minister of war under the French

Republic; the Prince de Broglie, afterwards field-marshal, and one of

the victims of the Revolutionary tribunal of 1794, etc.

Of the character of the soldiers we have some pleasant and vivid

contemporary testimony. The idea which the sturdy American colonist,

the backwoodsman with his Tower musket, had formed in advance of

the French soldier, was not altogether a complimentary one. It

was generally a caricature, popular at that day, of a dapper,

ill-contrived individual who made ridiculous mistakes in the English

language, ate frogs, memorable in the lampoon of Hogarth as toasting

one of the amphibious at the end of a rapier, and had but the one

virtue to make amends for his eccentricities--a courage that was

unquestionable, though grotesque and physically inefficient. The

picture was dispelled at the sight of Rochambeau's veterans--men

who equalled in stature and in strength the best that England

could display, who were inured to hardship and fatigue such as

were scarcely supported by the green backwoodsman, and who marched

hundreds of miles with an order and steadiness that never failed

to be admirable. Mr. Madison, who saw these troops file through

Philadelphia, after the fatigues of a march from the banks of the

Hudson River, thus testifies his impressions of the spectacle:

"Nothing can exceed the appearance of this specimen which our ally

has sent us of his army, whether we regard the figure of the men or

the exactness of their discipline."

Such was the brilliancy and the solid worth of the first

contributions of France to her feeble ally. To estimate the motives

and spirit of such aids, what influences ranged an old and brilliant

monarchy by the side of an infant Republic branded with "rebellion,"

and intertwined flags so opposite, it will be well to review the

relations of the parties to an alliance so strange and exceptional.

France had no interests to cultivate in America, no objects of

ambition to secure in a quarter of the world from which she had

deliberately withdrawn. Her flag had not appeared there since

the Treaty of Paris in 1756, and her subsequent cession to Spain

of her possessions on the Mississippi left her, for the present,

disembarrassed of all territorial claims and interests in America.

She had no reason for any affection for the English colonists now

asserting their independence; they were the sons of those who had

fought against her; the traditions of the colonial wars in America

were yet fresh. On the side of the rebel colonists themselves, there

was a suspicion of France--at least, no disposition to expect any

generosity from her in the struggle that was to ensue. So little was

that part expected which she did eventually take in the American

Revolution, that Patrick Henry (incredible as the fact may appear

to those who have read only eulogiums on this person) actually

retreated at the last from the Declaration of Independence, from

fear of France and her co-operation to subdue the colonies. In a

letter to John Adams, written five days after the Virginia Convention

had adopted the famous resolution of the 15th May, 1776, for

independence, he dwells upon the apprehension that France might be

seduced to take sides against the colonies by an offer from England

to divide the territories of America between them. It was an unworthy

suspicion; but Mr. Henry, who had but little originality, and was a

characteristic retailer of popular impressions, was probably in this

imputation upon France the echo of a thought common at the time.

No grounds of sympathy were yet apparent between France and the

struggling colonists; nothing, as far as the men of 1776 should

see, but recollections of old animosity and present causes for

distrust. Even the sympathy of religion, which has proved such a

fruitful source of international friendships and alliances, where

there have been no other points of coincidence, was wanting; instead

of it, a sharp antagonism was the fact. Protestant America, many

parts of it yet fresh with the persecution of Catholics, had no

reason to expect favors from Catholic France. Indeed, when those

favors were given, there was some discontented and ungrateful outcry

that it was a design upon the religion of the colonists; so deeply

sown was the distrust of France. There were those to object that

Congress had attended a Mass, and that the municipal authorities

of Boston had, on some occasion, walked in a Catholic procession.

The traitor, Benedict Arnold, in casting about for reasons to defend

his treason, could find none more plausible, or, in his estimation,

more likely to be received, than that the French alliance was about

to betray the religion of the colonists, and that he, therefore,

had determined to take refuge in Protestant England! Such an appeal

to popular prejudice was doubtless extravagant, even more so than

that of Patrick Henry accusing France; but both show the extent

of estrangement and suspicion which France had to overcome before

she could convince America of her friendship and generosity. And,

unfortunately, as we shall presently painfully see, such suspicion

was never entirely overcome, but was to remain to disfigure the last

page of the history of the Revolution, and to attach to it a story of

permanent disgrace to America.

When the colonies implored the aid of France, through an address

of Congress in November, 1780, the appeal showed an extremity and

temper of the colonists which suggested that almost any price would

be paid for the necessary succors. How far the French monarch might

have availed himself of the necessities of his suppliant ally, had

he been selfish enough to make these the measure of his demands, is

a conjecture almost illimitable. To purchase the aid of Spain, the

American Congress had been willing to retract former resolutions, and

to offer the almost priceless boon of the exclusive navigation of the

Mississippi; and it was only the fatuity and blindness of that power

that had prevented the fatal concession. Was the aid of France worth

less? and was the temper of concession not to be practised upon by

herself?

It has been usual to give a very summary and cold explanation of the

aids which France furnished the American cause, by pointing out its

effect to cripple her powerful and hereditary foe, England; thus

detracting from the generosity of the contribution, and representing

it as a mere move on the diplomatic chess-board which the French

monarch could not do otherwise than make. But this detraction does

not hold good. Admitting the full force of the reasons which it

imputes to France, there is much in her alliance with America that

is yet left unexplained; and there are circumstances which make it

one of the most peculiar and unique examples of generosity recorded

in history. It has not been unusual for powerful nations to assist

the weak on no other ground of sympathy than having a foe in common;

but it has seldom been the case that such aid has been rendered

without the powerful ally exacting terms for her own contribution,

and turning to her own advantage the necessities she has been called

upon to aid. England herself had afforded a precedent for the price

of such concessions. She had asked of the United Provinces, for the

price of her support against Spain, that all her expenses should

be repaid, and that the towns and fortresses of Holland should be

held by her as pledges for the conditions of the alliance. France

would have been sustained by historical example, and by moral right,

in exacting very important concessions for her aid of the American

cause in circumstances in which that aid was deemed vital for the

success of a struggle that already bordered on despair. She asked

nothing. She gave an army and a fleet, and bore all the expenses of

both armaments. She advanced money and replenished the almost empty

treasury of her ally. And she yet enlarged the generosity of her

alliance by devoting her arms, not only to a common operation, but

pledging at the outset the indispensable conclusion of her exertions

in the independence of America and the territorial integrity of

the States. In the Treaty of 1778, "the direct and essential end"

of the alliance was declared to be "the liberty, sovereignty, and

independence, absolute and unlimited, of the United States."

The arms of France were thus given directly to a cause of republican

liberty rather than merely involved in a diplomatic complication.

What reasons could have induced this apparent excess of generosity,

this singular spectacle of the ancient monarchy of the Franks taking

sides with the infant republic of the Anglo-Saxon colonists of

America?

The explanation is that the French aid was a contribution of the

_people_ of France rather than that of its crown. It sprung out of

the popular heart rather than the grace of a kind and munificent

monarch; and it has this circumstance of a tender and imperishable

souvenir to the American people. It was a free love-offering, the

first dedication of their cause in the sympathies of the world.

That republican sentiment which a few years later in France sprang

into such fierce life, was already deeply harbored in the hearts of

her people; and the movement of the American colonists gave it an

opportunity of comparatively safe expression; while all the romance

of such a sentiment found abundant material in the circumstances

of the struggle, the distance of the theatre, its scenery bordered

by savage life, the novelty of a people whose history was entirely

unique, and whose simplicity of manners suggested comparisons with

classical antiquity. The enthusiasm of the French mind seized every

attractive circumstance of the occasion. It was entitled "the

crusade of the eighteenth century." Again, it was adorned with

recollections more antique, and it was said that "the Republic of

Plato" had at last found realization in the midst of a people whose

exclusive situation had been a school for virtues hitherto unknown,

and was to afford an experiment that had until then lingered in the

speculations of philosophy and the dreams of poetry. The simplicity

of American manners was taken as a charming contrast to the court

splendors of Paris and Versailles. It was not only Franklin's cotton

stockings, but every peculiarity of the American citizen became

a picturesque study and the symbol of a new political life. The

memoirs of the Count de Ségur are among the contemporary testimonies

of the rage in the French capital for everything American; and we

are specially told of "cet air antique qui semblant transporter

tout-a-coup dans nos murs, au milieu de la civilisation amollie

et servile au dix-huitième siècle, quelques sages contemporans de

Platon, on des republicains du temps de Caton et de Fabius!"

Of the operations of the allied arms, our space only affords such

a sketch as may give some general idea of the extent and value of

the French aid. Washington had at first proposed, on the arrival of

Rochambeau, to attempt the repossession of New York City, and to

crush there the main body of the British army. But the failure to

arrive of the naval forces expected from Brest and the West Indies

disconcerted the plan; and events were preparing another theatre for

the final catastrophe. The British post and army in Virginia became

the objective point of the allied arms. The long-expected French

fleet was at last assured; it was to make its appearance in the

Chesapeake; and Washington prepared to move his army from the banks

of the Hudson to the distant scene of co-operation. From a temporary

observatory on the heights near Newburg, the anxious commander

watched his army crossing the blue stream; and as he mounted his

horse, to put himself at the head of a march that was to toil over

many hundreds of miles to find a last and effulgent field, far away

in Virginia, he wrung the hand of a French officer who stood in the

group around him, as expressing the new hope that had dawned in his

face, and repledging the alliance that was to win its realization.

And now ensued a combination of circumstances, in each one of which

the French arms determined a crisis, and displayed a dramatic

spectacle.

Lafayette, "the boy" in Cornwallis's estimation, "the tutelary genius

of American independence," as he has been designated by a Virginian

historian and statesman (William C. Rives), was sent forward to

Virginia, to hold in check there the haughty enemy. Washington had

given to this young Frenchman supreme command of the operations in

Virginia. He justified a trust which the pride of the state might

possibly resent, in his own estimate of the qualities of the noble

foreigner. In a private letter to a Congressman of Virginia (Jones)

he wrote: "The Marquis possesses uncommon military talents; is of

a quick and sound judgment; persevering and enterprising without

rashness; and, besides these, he is of a very conciliating temper,

and perfectly sober--which are qualities that rarely combine in

the same person. And were I to add that some men will gain as much

experience in the course of three or four years as some others will

in ten or a dozen, you cannot deny the fact, and attack me upon that

ground." Lafayette was elevated over the heads of both General Wayne

and the Baron de Steuben.

When the Frenchman came to the defence of Virginia, she was well-nigh

conquered. She was open in every direction to the enterprise of

the invader. Her public men were recreant, and under the suspicion

of cowardice. One of her most faithful censors has recorded the

delinquency of the times. In a letter dated the 6th November, 1780,

Judge Pendleton wrote: "We had no House of Delegates on Saturday

last, which, with our empty treasury, are circumstances unfavorable

at this juncture. Mr. Henry has resigned his seat in Congress; and

I hear Mr. Jones intends it. It is also said the governor intends

to resign. It is a little cowardly to quit our posts in a bustling

time." The city of Richmond, for which was to be reserved in history

stains beyond any other American city, was ready to submit tamely

to another occupation. The fact is, painful as the confession may

be to the Virginian of to-day--offending the pride of a state that

has almost invidiously claimed her part in the Revolution--Virginia

had grown reluctant in the war, and disposed to have recourse to

unworthy expedients. She had been prominent in Congress to recommend

the surrender of the navigation of the Mississippi in order to buy

the alliance of Spain. She had twice proposed a dictatorship; and

now, when Cornwallis was advancing, and Mr. Jefferson was resigning

the governorship, and suspicion, as we have seen, had fallen on other

leaders in the "bustling times," no less a person than Richard Henry

Lee, then in retirement at Westmoreland, was willing to surrender the

liberties of Virginia to a dictator as the only resource of safety!

Now, the state had nothing between her and the public enemy than the

twelve hundred bayonets of Lafayette. The address and skill of the

young Frenchman saved the Old Dominion from a subjection that would,

otherwise, have been complete, as far as the swift arms of Cornwallis

could have overrun the state.

Lafayette had retired to the Rapidan as the imposing and triumphant

army of Cornwallis advanced on Richmond. Here, joined by the

Pennsylvania troops under General Wayne and a body of riflemen from

the western part of Virginia, he was able to retrace his steps, and

to press Cornwallis's retreat towards the Chesapeake. Extricating

himself from an unequal engagement at Jamestown, he moved up the

river, and reposed at Malvern Hill--since celebrated as a refuge in

a greater contest of arms. Subsequently, at Williamsburg, he was

joined by the allied forces under Washington and Rochambeau--and then

commenced the combination that was to compass Cornwallis, and to

constitute the last splendid scene of the war.

It was a broad scene. On the 30th of August, 1781, twenty-eight

line-of-battle ships, bearing the flag of France, rode on the

beautiful expanse of the Chesapeake. They had come from the West

Indies. Eight other ships suddenly appeared from the opposite point

of the compass: the French squadron from Rhode Island, which had

entered the Chesapeake, in spite of the efforts of the English

admirals to intercept it. The _Ville de Paris_, the flag-ship of

the French admiral, had held in council the great actors of the

drama--Washington, Rochambeau, and the Count de Grasse; and it only

remained to draw the lines, by sea and land, around the despairing

enemy. The splendid fleet of France was the barrier between

Cornwallis and the succors that Sir Henry Clinton had promised from

New York. It was the element of victory--the apparition of a new

hope risen from the seas. On the other wing of the scene floated the

flags of Washington and Rochambeau. On the land were the splendid

armies of France side by side with the militia of the young republic,

and almost as numerous as the soldiers, a vast concourse of country

people, watching the sublime wonders of a bombardment that laced the

night skies, and enchanted by the music of the French timbrel, an

instrument then unknown in America. Three French commands, those of

the Count Rochambeau, the Marquis de Lafayette, and the Marquis de

Saint-Simon, stood on the field of Yorktown.

In this circle, made possible only by the links of the French aid,

went down the flag of Cornwallis and the hopes of England. It

was a memorable scene, and one which brought into strong relief

the assistance of our ally. In a letter to General Washington

from Mr. Jefferson, who had just retired from the gubernatorial

chair of Virginia, the distinguished patriot, after offering his

congratulations, justly wrote: "If in the minds of any, the motives

of gratitude to our good allies were not sufficiently apparent, the

part they have borne in this action must amply evince them." At the

height of its emotions of joy and gratitude, Congress promised a

monument for the scene. It was resolved that it would "cause to be

erected at York, in Virginia, a marble column, adorned with emblems

of the alliance between the United States and his Most Christian

Majesty, and inscribed with a succinct narrative." The pledge to this

day remains unfulfilled; and no monument testifies our early and

imperishable obligations to France, except such as may yet exist in

the hearts of our people.

Here, with the illumination of Yorktown, we would willingly conclude

the history of the Franco-American alliance. But there is a sequel

not to be omitted--a painful story that belongs yet to the justice of

history.

In the negotiations for peace that followed Yorktown, the American

Congress, new and timorous in diplomacy, betook itself to a refuge,

the shallowness of which is especially conspicuous in diplomacy--that

of supposing wisdom in a multitude of counsellors. It constituted

no less than five commissioners to treat at Paris. The selections

were ill; and in some instances the worst that could have been made.

Of the five, Mr. Jefferson did not attend. Mr. Adams was personally

distasteful to the French government. How far Mr. Henry Laurens might

be suspected of undue deference to England might have been judged

from his famous Tower letter, the cringing humiliations of which had

opened the doors of his prison; and it is said that when this letter

was divulged to Congress it would have recalled his commission,

had there not been doubts of the authenticity of the document,

so extraordinary was its tone. But it is justice to add that the

subsequent conduct of Mr. Laurens repelled the charge of partiality

for England; however, the French Government may have had reason to be

displeased at his antecedents. Mr. Jay was of a suspicious temper,

an intrigant rather than a diplomatist; illustrating precisely

that lowest notion of diplomacy, that it is essentially a game of

deceptions--a part that can be performed only with a false face.

Happily, the world has outlived this degrading idea of a really

august office, and has come to question why deception should be

considered more necessary in diplomacy than in any other branch of

public service. Indeed, there is room in diplomacy for the exercise

of the highest abilities, an arena for the busiest and most exacting

competitions of intellectual skill, without calling into requisition

the weapons of chicanery and fraud. There is no political service

that more strongly than the office of the diplomatist tests that

sum of powers which the world calls _character_: the clear, strong

purpose, with its quick and happy selection of opportunities, the

instinct, the tact, and the decisiveness which hold the secret of

what is _greatness_ in history, rather than any amount of learned

accomplishments or any training of the intellectual closet. The

diplomatist must be quick, yet strong and unremitting; he must have

unbounded confidence in himself, without the weakness of vanity; he

must be patient, yet not dilatory; thoroughly imbued with the true

spirit of the French proverb, that "he who learns to wait is master

of his fortune." He must have the faculty of putting things in the

strongest possible light--that best and rarest of rhetorical talents,

the power of _statement_. He must have a nice sense of opportunities;

the delicate touch with the iron will; he must practise what Byron

numbered among the cardinal virtues, "tact"; of all men he must wear

that excellent motto, _suaviter in modo, fortiter in re_. Here,

surely, is a theatre for many virtues and abilities, without calling

to aid the mask and sinister weapons of professional deceit. The

greatest diplomatist of modern times, the unequalled Bismarck, is

said to be remarkable for the bluntness and directness that have

overcome by the very surprises of openness the chicanery of his

opponents. The robustness of his dealings with the finesse of the

old traditional school of European diplomacy reminds one of the duel

in "Peter Simple." A sturdy Englishman engages a master of fence,

and while the latter practises the most scientific attitude and has

his rapier poised according to the figures of the science, he is

infinitely surprised to have it seized in mid-air by the naked hand

of his antagonist, and himself run through the body. Not _secundum

artum_, but a most efficient way of concluding the combat. Of the

open and best school of diplomacy, Franklin at the French court was

a fair representative, the very opposite of Jay. The philosopher of

Pennsylvania has never been justly measured as a diplomatist; he had

been successful beyond all other American envoys; he was now the

Bismarck of the diplomatic collection at Paris, although he unhappily

gave way to the leadership of Jay.

In the negotiations for peace that ensued, Mr. Jay, leading more

or less willingly the other commissioners, was soon over head and

ears in an intrigue with the English ministry; acting on that

lowest supposition of tyroism in diplomacy--that the other party

must necessarily design a fraud, and that a counter-fraud must be

prepared to meet it. Congress had instructed that there should be

made "the most candid and confidential communications upon all

subjects to the ministers of our generous ally, the King of France";

and it took occasion to give a remarkable expression of gratitude to

France, its resolutions declaring "how much we rely on his majesty's

influence for effectual support in everything that may be necessary

to the present security or future prosperity of the United States

of America." Mr. Jay, who had taken the lead in the negotiations,

willingly followed by Adams, "dragging in Franklin," and resisted

to some extent by Laurens proceeded deliberately to violate these

instructions. He had conceived the suspicion that France was secretly

hostile to an early acknowledgment of the independence of America,

and wished to postpone it until she had extorted objects of her own

from the dependence of her ally. It is now known that this suspicion

was wholly imaginary. But Mr. Jay and his colleagues acted upon it,

and were twisted around the fingers of the English ministry to the

extent of treating with them, without giving the French government

knowledge of the steps and progress of the negotiation, thus

contributing to the adroit purpose of England to sow distrust in

the alliance that had humbled her. While the American commissioners

were professing to the French minister that negotiations were yet

at a distance, they had actually signed the provisional articles

of a treaty of peace with the crown of Great Britain. Worse than

this, they had agreed to a _secret_ article, which stipulated a

more favorable northern boundary for Florida, in the event of its

conquest by the arms of Great Britain, than if it should remain in

the possession of Spain at the termination of the war. Spain was at

that time an ally of France; and so it may be imagined how the latter

would be embarrassed by this secret article, and how England might

meditate in it an advantage in disturbing the understanding of France

and America.

Mr. Jay, unconscious that he had been made a catspaw of British

diplomacy, felicitated himself that he had made an excellent bargain

and done an acute thing; possessed as he was with that fatuity of all

deceivers, that omits to calculate the time when the deception must

necessarily become known. When the game that had been played upon

its ally became known to Congress, it plunged that body into the most

painful embarrassment. Mr. Madison, in his diary of the proceedings

of Congress, thus records its impressions: "The separate and secret

manner in which our ministers had proceeded with respect to France,

and the confidential manner with respect to the British ministers,

affected different members of Congress differently. Many of the

most judicious members thought they had all been in some measure

ensnared by the dexterity of the British minister, and particularly

disapproved of the conduct of Mr. Jay in submitting to the enemy his

jealousy of the French, without even the knowledge of Dr. Franklin,

and of the unguarded manner in which he, Mr. Adams, and Dr. Franklin

had given, in writing, sentiments unfriendly to our ally, and serving

as weapons for the insidious policy of the enemy. The separate

article was most offensive, being considered as obtained by Great

Britain, not for the sake of the territory ceded to her, but as a

means of disuniting the United States and France, as inconsistent

with the spirit of the alliance, and as a dishonorable departure from

the candor, rectitude, and plain dealing professed by Congress."

Congress did not extricate itself from the dilemma; it could not

do it. Suppression of what had been done could not be continued;

still less was it possible to make explanations to France; the only

thing to do was to say nothing, and to let the painful exposure work

itself out. The King of France had acted with an openness and an

attention to his allies, the contrasts of which made the exposure one

of great bitterness and shame. The Count de Vergennes had assured

the American commissioners: "The king has been resolved that all his

allies should be satisfied, being determined to continue the war,

whatever advantages may be offered to him, if England is disposed to

wrong any of them." Now, when the articles were brought into council

to be signed, the French monarch could not be other than surprised

and indignant. He put royal restraint upon his speech; but he could

not forbear saying, with a bluntness that must have bruised American

pride, and staggered the self-felicitations of Mr. Jay, that "he did

not think he had such allies to deal with."

The court of France sustained the insult with dignity, and yet with

evidence of a deep sense of wrong. When inquiry was made whether

expostulations would be made to the American Congress, the reply

of M. Marbois was heroic: "A great nation," he answered, "does not

complain; but it feels and remembers."

THE CATHOLIC CHURCH IN GENEVA.

I.

In order to understand the events which have lately taken place in

Geneva, and those that are preparing there, it is necessary to cast

a general glance over the past and present state of the Catholic

religion in that little commonwealth.

Most people know what Geneva was prior to the French Revolution:

an independent state, separate from the Swiss Cantons, reduced by

Calvinism to an aristocratic theocracy, and shorn of those ancient

democratic franchises which it had enjoyed before breaking away from

Rome. The dominant principle in its customs and legislation was fear

and hatred of the proscribed worship. A minute and jealous care was

taken to repress the expansion of Catholicism--one exhibition of

which was seen in the strict closing of the city gates on the grand

festivals of the church, and the fine of ten crowns imposed on those

who held intercourse with the Bishop of Annecy on the occasion of

his pastoral visits. Under these circumstances, only a small number

of Catholics clung with heroic constancy to the ancient faith, and

secretly practised their religious duties in the recesses of their

houses. There were in 1759 but two hundred and twenty-seven Catholics

in Geneva--and in this number even Voltaire and his hangers-on were

included.

It was the French Revolution that forced open the gates, up to that

period so carefully closed, of this Protestant Rome. Geneva became

under the Empire a French department, and the Catholic religion in

the persons of the imperial functionaries was officially recognized.

Permission to erect a church was granted; but this first move

toward a less hostile attitude was not taken without the bitterest

opposition from the old Protestant party. In the remodelling of

Europe, after Napoleon's downfall, it was found desirable to

provide against the absorption of Geneva by uniting it to the

Swiss Confederation; but in order to overcome the difficulties of

geographical position, and make such an acquisition of territory

acceptable to Berne, it became necessary to join to Geneva certain

strips of land from the Catholic districts of Gex and Savoy. The

Genevans, who looked with dread upon this annexation, strove to

assure in any case their own supremacy, but the Catholics found

defenders in diplomatic circles, and their cause was protected by the

several treaties of Paris, Vienna, and Turin (1814-1816). In virtue

of these, all civil and political rights were guaranteed to the new

citizens, the Catholic religion was recognized, its exercise in

Geneva permitted, religious freedom solemnly pledged to the annexed

populations, and the expenses of their public worship assumed by the

state.

At this period the Catholics were not over a third of the whole

canton; but they rapidly increased, less, indeed, through conversions

than by immigration. In 1834, there were 25,000 Protestants and

18,000 Catholics. What was the attitude of the Genevan government

then? Power was still in the hands of the old Protestant

aristocracy--the strongest and only organized party, and a singular

admixture of good qualities and defects. The patrician of Geneva

was, indeed, a strange and now fast-disappearing type. Living in

his old town surrounded by ramparts, and in his old society even

more stringently closed, clad in sombre colors, speaking little and

laughing less, vain, stiff in his manners, with a stony cast of

countenance, he was devoid of generous sympathy and largeness of

heart, without, however, being altogether incapable of a certain

pecuniary liberality; benign to his clients, implacable to rivals,

marking out in everything a conventional line, and merciless to the

one who should cross it; a man of letters, but an enemy to literary

liberty, the friend of order, respecting traditions, an ardent

patriot, but of a narrow and exclusive patriotism, he was attached

more to his caste and party than to his country. Often sincerely

pious, this Genevan gentleman of the old school was sometimes a

hypocrite and Pharisee; a formalist himself, he was quick to cast the

first stone at the transgressors of the law. But what was strongest

in this class of men was the Protestant sentiment in its most odious

and intolerant shape. Having seen with displeasure the annexation of

the Catholic districts, and agreed very unwillingly to the religious

liberty insured by treaty, this party found it hard to extinguish

its traditional spirit of bigotry. Every movement of vitality on the

part of Catholics excited distrust, and looked like a revolt; and

proceeding to open acts, it struck successively at the liberty of

instruction, the freedom of the pulpit, and the right of endowment.

The attempt to enforce civil marriage failed only when Sardinia

threatened to intervene. Catholics were eyed with disfavor, and of

the thousand servants of the government, only fifty-nine belonged

to their creed. Finally, if Protestants were obliged to endure the

official existence of the Roman Church, it seemed to them quite

proper to try and make it a state affair. They obtained from the Pope

in 1819 the transfer of jurisdiction over Geneva from the Archbishop

of Chambéry to the Bishop of Lausanne--their secret object being to

subject the Catholic clergy to the direct influence of government,

through the dependence on the state to which the bishops of

Switzerland had long been accustomed, and in particular by using the

conciliatory and somewhat weak character of Monseigneur de Lausanne.

In fact, an agreement was drawn up with the bishop, by which the

civil power was permitted to interfere in the nomination of pastors,

exact from them an oath, publish and circulate episcopal charges.

Soon after, a law made the _placet_ obligatory for all documents

emanating from the diocesan or papal authorities. A few official

honors and some pecuniary advantages were the only compensation made

to Catholics for the prejudice done their liberty. These, however,

struggled perseveringly against all exertions to enthrall them,

and continued in spite of every difficulty to increase and gain

strength. This success they owed chiefly to their courageous pastor,

the Abbé Vuarin, "an admirable man for a conflict," as his friend

Lamennais used to say of him: one whose indefatigable industry,

fearlessness, and devotion to duty made every sacrifice light. He

travelled Europe in the interests of his flock, and Turin, Berne,

Paris, Munich, Rome, heard him defend their cause. He had friends in

all places, and corresponded with popes, kings, and the great men

of his day; and, during the continual hostilities which he carried

on against Protestants, wrote some severe things, for the most part

anonymously, but other times under his own name, wherein the only

subject of regret is too great fieriness and irony. He used to watch

the ballot-boxes while reciting his breviary, which drew from M. de

Maistre the remark, "When I see his way of working, it recalls the

success of the apostles." M. Vuarin had said, "A priest who is named

pastor at Geneva should go, should remain, and should end there";

and, true to his own word, he died there, parish priest, in 1843,

having been appointed under the Empire. Before his time, it was only

now and then that a cassock ventured to appear in Geneva: at his

funeral, two bishops, two hundred priests, and thousands of Catholic

laymen defiled through the streets of the old Protestant city.

It turned out, however, that Catholic progress only irritated the

intolerant spirit of opposition, and at the centennial jubilee of

the Reformation, in 1835, the inflamed passions of the multitude

broke out in insults and deeds of violence against the faith of the

minority. The Protestant Union, a sort of secret society, was formed

to sustain and encourage exclusivism and anti-Catholic feelings; and

when a collective address, signed by the clergy of Geneva, denounced

the movement to the bishop, the council of state, in retaliation,

refused to admit the nomination of any priest who should not have

expressed regret for appending his name to the paper. At M. Vuarin's

death, Geneva was for several years deprived of the ministrations

of his successor, M. Marilley, who had been arrested by the public

officers and conducted to the frontier. Such, in 1846, was the

position of the church: misunderstood in her spirit, the full

measure of her rights withheld, strong only in the energy of her

defenders. Then a political change took place, which considerably

modified the situation.

In the plain on the other side of the Rhone, facing the steep hill

whereon are the dwellings of the Genevan aristocracy, along which

are drawn out the narrow streets of the old town, and on the summit

of which rise the city hall and St. Peter's church--that Acropolis

of Calvinism--extends the democratic and laboring suburb of _Saint

Gervais_. Here for several years a work had been going on whose

gravity the ruling class of Geneva did not comprehend. A radical

and demagogical party, intimately connected with the revolutionists

of other countries, was being organized. Its newspapers, pamphlets,

and the affair of "Young Italy" in 1836 revealed its boldness and

vigorous action. On the occasion of the Sonderbund disturbances

in 1846, the radicals got excited, the Faubourg St. Gervais rose

in tumult, and after a sanguinary struggle the conservatives were

put down, the old town was occupied by the victorious workmen,

and the power of the state passed into the hands of the leaders

of the insurrection--M. Fazy and his friends. The extinction of

the ancient oligarchy was known to be their object. Catholics had

kept aloof from this conflict, feeling little sympathy with the

revolutionary passions of the radicals, whose pretext, moreover, for

rising had been the aid extended by the Genevan government to their

co-religionists of the Sonderbund. But when once in power, the new

party, more astute than its predecessor, understood the importance of

the Catholic element when it came to a question of votes.

M. Fazy, although ultra in politics, had no religious prejudices,

and, neither Catholic nor Protestant, all he cared for was to bring

about the ruin of the Calvinist aristocracy. In so much (as the

Bishop of Lausanne observed in 1849), he was acting to the advantage

of Catholics. After the radicals had destroyed the ramparts of the

old town, Geneva began rapidly to change appearance: entirely new

quarters were soon laid out, strangers came in large numbers, and the

Catholic population visibly increased with the immigration. In 1850,

the canton counted 34,212 Protestants and 29,764 Catholics; ten years

later, the figures stood 42,099 of the latter to 40,069 of the former.

The radicals had the good sense also to respect the liberty of

Catholics; they gave them ground to build another church on, and in

the central part of the new districts, hard by the railway-station, a

Gothic edifice, which people used to call the cathedral-citadel--the

temple of liberty--was erected. Thus little by little the two classes

were drawn together, despite so many profound differences. The

conservatives themselves contributed to this, for the concessions

to Catholics were their chief point of opposition; and in the next

electoral campaign they took for rallying-cry, "Fazy sold to the

papists." Thereupon it became a necessity, if Catholics would keep

their rights, to vote with the radicals; they did so in 1855, and

the conservatives were utterly defeated. Things remained in this

state until 1860, the government continuing to respect Catholic

liberty; the bishop also was allowed to return to Geneva, and Fazy

ably defended him against the narrow prejudices of a few friends.

When the church of Our Lady was finished, the consecration sermon

was preached by the eloquent mouth of the man who to-day exercises

over the faithful of Geneva, although with different qualities, the

influence that M. Vuarin once had. This was the Abbé Mermillod.

Untrammelled by attachments either to person or party, clever, firm,

yet pacific, uniting to the authority of virtue all the charms of

talent and character, his liberal ideas no one could gainsay, and his

devotion to the church the Holy Father has on more than one occasion

publicly recognized. Nevertheless, if the rule of the radicals was

in some respects profitable to Catholics, it was baneful to them

on more than one account. The sources of moral and intellectual

corruption were multiplied in the canton; freemasonry received the

same concessions as religion; the professorships in the academy were

bestowed upon the enemies of every form of Christianity; and all the

while an active proselytism was spreading immoral sentiments and

infidelity among the people. In this state of affairs, the opposition

daily waxed stronger, and after fifteen years of administration, the

radicals were defeated (1861) by the conservatives, rejuvenated and

transformed into an independent party.

II.

The party that now came in was no longer the same old purely

aristocratic one of former times; it had allies among the democrats.

A popular society, known as The String, established in the very

centre of the working Quartier de Saint Gervais, furnished it with

brawny arms and clubs to repel at the polls the violence which the

radicals had initiated. From 1861 to 1864, the independents gained

ground rapidly, and the bloody riots that disturbed Geneva in the

last-named year only served to assure their success. It may be

asked, What did the Catholics do during this political change? They

could not aspire to rule: they were forced to choose between the

Protestant haters of their faith and the radical indifferentists who

treated all religions alike--one might say with equal contempt--but

which had at least the merit of respecting liberty of conscience.

A handful of Catholics, disgusted with the subversive doctrines of

the radicals, sought alliance with the independents; but the mass

remained liege to their first protectors. Some of the leaders, too,

of that party belonged to Catholic families, and were, nominally,

Catholics themselves; whereas all the chief men of the independents

were Protestants.

At this period, a great event in the Catholic life of Geneva took

place. Pius IX. in 1864 raised the Abbé Mermillod to the episcopal

dignity; only by a prudent reserve he did not immediately confer upon

him the title of bishop of that city, but of Hebron _in partibus

infidelium_. In order not to encounter too many obstacles at the

outset, the authorities of the canton were not officially notified

of the fact, which was brought to their knowledge indirectly. The

independents affected to ignore the new arrangement, and consider

Mgr. Mermillod as only the vicar-general of Bishop Marilley. Whenever

he spoke as a prelate, they showed themselves surprised and angry.

The radicals, on their part, saw the establishment of an episcopal

see with the same unconcern as they had witnessed the erection of the

cathedral. And yet a few were provoked; they were principally leaders

from the Catholic ranks, who foresaw the blow their influence would

receive from such a quarter. On the other hand, Mgr. Mermillod's

European reputation flattered the self-love of the Genevans, thus

lessening political and religious repugnances; while his amenity,

conciliatory spirit, the irresistible seduction of his ways, his

political prudence, which caused him to avoid the entanglements of

party strife, helped to surmount many obstacles.

A question of great importance to Catholics soon came up. In 1815,

when parts of Savoy and the Pays-de-Gex were annexed, although the

religious liberty of the new-comers had been diplomatically secured,

Geneva reserved to her own sons, under the modest designation "rights

of property, burghership, and district residence," the enjoyment

of considerable wealth coming from old foundations, and destined

particularly for hospitals and other charitable institutions. The

new-comers had no share in the distribution of these funds: hence

arose the distinction in the community of _elder_ and _younger_

brothers. About the year 1866, a motion was put forward to abolish

this privilege of the ancient citizens, and to induce the new ones to

renounce the treaty stipulations in their favor and come under the

common law. The project fell through at the time, but was finally

adopted in 1868. The Catholics took a liberal and generous stand.

They might regret the international engagements to respect their

religious liberty; they could loudly complain that by a provision of

the bill the independents endowed the Protestant Church with a part

of this appropriation, consequently securing it against loss in the

event of a separation between church and state, whereas nothing was

set apart to defray the expenses of Catholic worship; nevertheless,

the great majority voted to let it pass. God grant that they may not

have been deceived! If they had been organized into a political

party, they could and they should have had inserted some similar

allowance in their favor. For all this, the Catholics, while they

continued to make rapid progress, assumed an attitude of moderation

and straightforward liberality. Mgr. Mermillod openly declared, "The

Catholics have not the preponderance, or the means of obtaining it;

they do not think of it, they cannot have it, they do not desire it.

They have no privileges to petition for, but all more than ever must

love our native Switzerland, which turns now her eyes upon us, and

must cling to our institutions and to that liberty which they secure

us." The bishop's adversaries could not find fault with him, and the

_Revue des Deux Mondes_ was obliged, however unwillingly and tardily,

to acknowledge his liberal tone. And yet this attitude of Catholics

and their progress only excited greater distrust and hatred. The

society of The String raised in its manifestoes the phantom of

ultramontanism, the press insulted them, and they were threatened

in their rights of association, of burial, of instruction, and of

preaching. It is principally at Carouge that they have had to suffer.

This place is under the influence of certain so-called Catholic

radicals, who in truth are more anti-Catholic than the Protestants

themselves. When these people attack the church, the independents

support them; sometimes, however, the latter have known how to

maintain an at least apparent neutrality.

It is chiefly in view of the eventual re-establishment of the

bishopric of Geneva that anti-Catholic prejudices are manifested.

The Protestants understand that _Hebron_ is only a first step, and

they recoil at the idea of having at Geneva itself a Bishop of

Geneva. Several times already the question has been discussed in the

council of state, and the opponents of the church seek in Gallican

and _Josephine_ traditions, in the text of treaties, everywhere, for

reasons to deny to Catholics the right of having a bishop. Common

sense, equity, treaties, all is against them, but prejudice prevails.

The Catholics on their side are determined that they shall have their

own bishop, and this to-day is the great dispute between them and the

Protestants. Mgr. Mermillod acts in all these troubles more like an

apostle than a politician. He is right. He believes in his mission;

and, without being able exactly to point out the course which

Providence will keep, he is convinced that the church will prosper in

Geneva. May his hope be realized! At any rate, the Genevan Catholics

are fortunate to have such a bishop. To conclude, their present

situation is a critical one. It is fraught with dangers and yet full

of hope.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

PATRON SAINTS. By Eliza Allen Starr. Baltimore: John

Murphy & Co. New York: The Catholic Publication

Society. 1871.

This is an uncommonly interesting and readable book. Lives of saints,

especially of such as those who form its subject, ought, of course,

always to be interesting to Catholics, and even to others; but,

unfortunately, the abundance of facts which are often put in a small

space, and the dry and sometimes unsystematic way in which they are

presented, make them usually, perhaps, unattractive to any except

those who wish to make what is called spiritual reading, and put

them, if not entirely beyond the reach of children, at least much

less useful to them than they might be made, and than they have been

made in the present work. The aim of the author has been to bring out

the lives of the servants of God in their true light, as something

more wonderful than any fairy tales or fictions, as, indeed, they

are; to satisfy the natural desire of the young for the marvellous

with what is not only wonderful but admirable, and to supply the

place of fiction--to some extent, at least--with truth. And in order

that they may answer this end, they are told in an attractive and

conversational way, with occasional digressions and episodes, and

the style is such that, instead of searching about for the most

interesting of the lives to begin with, one begins at once wherever

he may happen to open, and keeps on till it is more than time to

leave off. For, though these sketches seem to have been intended

principally for children and young people, there can be no one who

will not be pleased with them or who is too far advanced and well

informed to profit by them. There are twelve illustrations. The book

is well printed and elegantly bound.

NEVER FORGOTTEN; OR, THE HOME OF THE LOST CHILD. By

Cecilia Mary Caddell. London: Burns, Oates & Co. 1871.

For sale by The Catholic Publication Society, 9 Warren

Street, New York.

Details of the self-denying lives of those who devote themselves to

works of charity, under the rules of a religious order, are always

interesting to the earnest Catholic. In this attractive volume, we

have a touching record of the devoted lives of the Sisters of the

Good Shepherd, woven with the story of one who came to them dead

in sin, but was brought to life, faith, and peace, by the blessing

of God on their unfailing efforts. There is no charity that calls

more urgently in these times for the countenance and help of pious

souls living in the world than this twofold task undertaken by these

good sisters--the raising of fallen women to lives of purity, and

providing a place of refuge from temptation for destitute young

girls. All other efforts to reform abandoned women seem to bring

forth but little fruit, while the nuns of the "Good Shepherd," both

in this country and abroad, have been instrumental in rescuing a vast

number from lives of infamy, and bringing them to true penance. This

volume is interesting and instructive, and cannot fail to impress the

reader with its truthfulness. May our dear Lord, through its pages,

excite in many souls asking for work in his vineyard, the desire to

assist in bringing back these lost sheep to his fold!

THE CATECHISM ILLUSTRATED BY PASSAGES FROM THE HOLY

SCRIPTURES. Compiled by the Rev. John B. Bagshawe,

Missionary Rector of St. Elizabeth's, Richmond,

England. Boston: Patrick Donahoe. 1871.

"This compilation is intended," says the author, in his preface,

"to assist our children in acquiring a better knowledge of Holy

Scripture." But it will also prove useful and suggestive to those who

have to teach children, even should the latter not use it themselves.

Its plan is very simple and good, the most appropriate passages of

Scripture being selected in illustration of the successive questions

and answers of the catechism, and appended to them, the text being

in one column and the illustrations in a parallel one. Such a plan

is, of course, very difficult to carry out with perfect success,

and the author does not claim to have always made absolutely the

most appropriate selection; but one would be very foolish not to

duly appreciate what is good where perfection is evidently next to

impossible. An appendix is added, with references to the principal

texts quoted, which can be used independently.

THE HOLY EXERCISE OF THE PRESENCE OF GOD. In three

parts. Translated from the French of T. F. Vaubert, of

the Society of Jesus. St. Louis: P. Fox, Publisher, No.

14 South Fifth Street. 1871. For sale by The Catholic

Publication Society, 9 Warren Street, New York.

This is a beautiful little book, and contains a great deal in a very

small space. Its purpose is sufficiently explained by its title: to

make Christians practically familiar with, and constantly attentive

to, the presence of God, surely one of the greatest of all means of

sanctification, and one specially necessary in this age and country,

in which there is such a tendency to distraction and useless

occupation of mind. The translation is good, and the type clear.

A BRIEF HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

ON LONG ISLAND. By Patrick Mulrenan, Professor of

Rhetoric, etc., etc., etc., etc., etc. New York: P.

O'Shea. 1871.

Truly this is a world of disappointments. When this book, handsomely

bound and printed in bold type on delicately tinted paper, was placed

before us, and upon reading the numerous titles of honor which the

author, with more frankness than modesty, had appended to his name,

we hastily came to the conclusion that the Catholic Church on Long

Island had at last found a worthy and erudite historian. Alas for the

vanity of human hopes! Ere we had perused a dozen of its hundred and

thirty pages, we discovered that the brilliant and costly setting,

which we fondly hoped contained a literary gem beyond price, enclosed

nothing but a paltry imitation in paste. Our chagrin was the greater

on account of the importance of the subject, affording, as it does,

many salient points of interest that deserve to be perpetuated in

something like good language and in proper method; but candor compels

us to say that this book seems more like a scrap-book, made up of

slip-shod newspaper paragraphs unartistically retouched and strung

together. And then the reckless scattering of polyglot adjectives,

the continuous recurrence of the same words and forms of expression,

the forgetfulness of facts within the knowledge of most of the school

children of Brooklyn, and the inexcusable ignoring of the simplest

rules of grammar, which characterize this production, are, we venture

to affirm, unparalleled in the history of modern book-making. The

last chapter, however, surpasses all the others in verbosity. In

thus coming before the public as the historian of the Catholics

of Long Island, the author seems to have forgotten that the art of

book-writing can only be learned by years of patient study, and that

the high-sounding phrases which would do well enough for a class

of young students are altogether out of place in the pages of a

book intended to be placed in the libraries of our most intelligent

citizens. Literary vanity is generally a harmless and sometimes an

amusing weakness, but, when gratified at the expense of serious

subjects, it deserves neither encouragement nor the charity of our

silence.

THE HISTORICAL READER. By John J. Anderson, A.M. 1 vol.

12mo, pp. 544. New York: Clark & Maynard. 1871.

This work, compiled for the use of schools, has many merits and some

grave defects. The task of culling from the best writers choice

passages descriptive of striking historical incidents is one that

requires much judgment and experience for its proper performance;

while the difficulty of avoiding even the appearance of national

prejudice or religious bias is almost insurmountable. Most of us have

our favorite authors, whose merits we are apt to exaggerate, and

whose peculiar views we too often accept without much investigation.

Professor Anderson is not free from this weakness, though, as a

rule, his selections are made with discretion and fairness. Milton's

eulogy on Cromwell is one of the exceptions, for we hold it not

good that our children should be taught to reverence the memory of

that monstrosity whose hands were so repeatedly imbrued in innocent

blood. Froude's "Coronation of Anne Boleyn" is another, for, as the

readers of The Catholic World well know, very little dependence can

be placed on the historical veracity of that gentleman. But the most

serious mistake of the compiler lies in the fact that only American,

English, Scotch, and French history, with a few passages from ancient

authors, is presented; Ireland, Spain, Germany, and other European

countries being completely ignored. Taking into account the vast

number of children Of German and Irish descent in our public and

private schools, who ought, we think, to be taught something of the

history of their ancestors, we should expect that at least one-half

of this book would be devoted to extracts from the historians of

these races, whose writings are now as accessible to compilers of

history as those of any other nationality. Of Spain, the discoverer

and first colonizer of the New World, we have not a word; and Italy,

the birthplace of Christopher Columbus and Amerigo Vespucci, the

cradle of modern art and poetry, is altogether overlooked. In this

respect, therefore, _The Historical Reader_ is sadly deficient in

universality and completeness. The Vocabulary attached will be found

useful, and the Biographical Index would be more interesting if the

writer had used his adjectives less generously, and more reliable

if he had not insisted on calling Burke a British statesman and

Goldsmith an "English" writer.

A HISTORY OF THE KINGDOM OF KERRY. By M. F. Cusack.

Boston: P. Donahoe. London: Longmans, Green & Co. 1871.

8vo, pp. 512.

This latest contribution to the historical literature of Ireland is

in every respect worthy the genius and industry of the accomplished

author of _The Illustrated History of Ireland_, and other works

of an historical and biographical character. Hitherto the remote

county of Kerry has been known to tourists and artists for the

beautiful scenery of the Killarney Lakes, and to the general reader

only as the home of the great orator and politician O'Connell;

for the meagre and antiquated history of the county by Smith has

long since passed into oblivion, and can scarcely be found in any

of those receptacles for worn-out authors, called second-hand book

stores. It remained for Miss Cusack (Sister Mary Frances Clare),

who, of all contemporary Irish writers, seems most imbued with a

passionate desire to produce and reproduce incidents illustrative of

the past glories and sufferings of her native country, to undertake

the task of writing a history of this, in many respects, the most

interesting of the thirty-two counties of Ireland, and it must be

confessed that, considering the unpromising and limited nature of the

subject, she has performed it with wonderful accuracy and success.

The large and handsome volume before us, as a local history, may be

considered a complete narrative of every event connected with Kerry,

from the very earliest period of the traditional epoch down to the

close of the seventeenth century, with occasional glances at the

affairs of adjacent counties, when necessarily connected with those

of her favorite locality. Several, and not the least attractive of

the chapters to a scientific student, are devoted to the geology,

topography, and archæology of Kerry and other kindred topics, in the

preparation of which the author has been assisted by some of the

best scholars in Ireland, whose readiness in thus contributing the

result of long years of study and experience not only does credit to

their generosity and gallantry, but demonstrates that Miss Cusack's

patriotic and charitable efforts are fully appreciated by those who

know her well and are best fitted to appreciate the value of her

labors. The appendix, which is very full, will be found particularly

interesting to such of our readers as derive their descent from

the ancient Kerry families, containing, as it does, a minute

and doubtless correct pedigrees of the O'Connors, O'Donoghues,

O'Connells, O'Mahonys, McCarthys, and other septs whose names are

indelibly associated with the history and topography of the county.

The illustrations of local scenery are passable, we have seen better,

but the letterpress is excellent, and the whole mechanical execution

of the work is worthy of the subject, and very creditable to the

taste and enterprise of the publishers.

MANUAL OF GEOMETRICAL AND INFINITESIMAL ANALYSIS.

By B. Sestini, S.J., author of Analytical Geometry,

Elementary Geometry, and a Treatise on Algebra;

Professor of Mathematics in Woodstock College.

Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1871.

"We leave it to the reader," says Father Sestini in his preface,

which, by the way, corresponds to the book in shortness, "to judge

whether, without detriment to lucidity, our efforts to combine

comprehensiveness with brevity and exactness have been successful."

It seems to us that they have. It is impossible to understand

analytical geometry and the calculus, the principles of which are

developed in this work, without patient thought and application of

mind; diffuse explanations may be written, no doubt, which will

enable an ordinary student to master the actual text of his lesson,

but they will not be likely to set his mind to working on its own

account; and the discovery of the meaning of a sentence which seems

obscure, but is only so from the student's want of mental exercise in

these matters, is of more real service, and at the same time gives

more pleasure, than the most copious elucidations. To use these

is like taking a light into a dark place; it shows clearly what

is immediately around, but does not allow the pupils of the eyes

to expand. And without a similar development of the mathematical

faculty, which is probably really more common than is generally

supposed, needing only proper exercise to bring it out, the study of

the science will be comparatively fruitless, and a mere labor instead

of a pleasure.

It is, of course, possible to carry this principle too far, and

make a book which will be incomprehensible without profuse oral

explanations, which will equally prevent a profitable exercise of the

mind. The author seems to have carried it just far enough. No one to

whom the study of the higher mathematics will be profitable at all

can find a better work to set him upon the track and give him a grasp

of the subject than F. Sestini's manual. The expert also, as well as

the student, will be pleased with the neatness of its execution, both

in the mathematical and in the ordinary sense.

VERMONT HISTORICAL GAZETTEER. A Magazine embracing a

Digest of the History of each Town, Civil, Educational,

Religious, Geological, and Literary. Edited by Abby

Maria Hemenway, compiler of the _Poets and Poetry of

Vermont_. Burlington. 1870.

New England is the home of American local history, for, of the works

devoted to the annals of cities, counties, and towns, there are more

relating to New England than to all other parts of the United States;

and outside of New England limits the cultivation of local history

is, in many cases, due to natives of that division.

Miss Hemenway has done good service by her gazetteer, which is really

a general local history of the Green Mountain State. Known favorably

already, she has succeeded in obtaining the hearty co-operation of

gentlemen and ladies in all parts of the state, and she thus gives

the history of each county in turn. The history of each church is

given by some one connected with it, and full justice done to all.

In some local histories, the prejudice of the author sometimes leads

him to ignore all but his own church, or give only such notices as

he cannot avoid. We have in our eye a _History of Elizabeth, New

Jersey_, by the Rev. Mr. Hatfield, in which other denominations

than his own are very slightingly treated. There are three Catholic

churches, a Benedictine convent, a House of Sisters of Charity, and

an orphan asylum in the place, yet the reverend author sums up their

history in five lines, and quotes as his authority for their annals

the City Directory.

If any institution, church, or author fails to receive due space

in the _Vermont Historical Gazetteer_, it is not the fault of

Miss Hemenway, who has labored most indefatigably to extract

their history, and given them wherein to lay it before the world,

impartially allowing each to give their own version of affairs. Her

work is, of course, not of equal merit; but it contains many articles

of far more than local interest and value. Her state owes her a debt

of thanks; and in her plan and scheme of the work, as well as in her

untiring industry, she sets an example that may well be imitated in

other states.

HISTORY OF FLORIDA, FROM ITS DISCOVERY BY PONCE DE

LEON, IN 1512, TO THE CLOSE OF THE FLORIDA WAR, IN

1842. By George R. Fairbanks. Philadelphia: J. B.

Lippincott & Co. 1871.

Mr. Fairbanks is not unknown as an author, and this little volume,

handsomely issued by an eminent publishing-house, would seem to

be a welcome addition, as furnishing, in a compendious form, the

romantic annals of the oldest settled, though not the oldest, state

in the Union. We regret to say that we regret the appearance of the

work. There is such abundance of material accessible to the ordinary

student, even without entering upon the vast manuscript material

which the late Buckingham Smith spent his life in delving, that

exactness is of the utmost necessity.

Mr. Fairbanks evidently quotes his Spanish authors at second-hand,

and must be unfamiliar with the Spanish language. No one at all

conversant with it would quote Cabeza de Vaca, as he repeatedly does,

under the name of De Vaca. Cabeza de Vaca is the family name, meaning

Head of Cow--an odd name, but with its analogy in our Whitehead,

Mulford (mule-ford), Armstrong, etc. To quote him as "Of Cow" is like

citing one of the English names as Head, Ford, or Strong. Quoting

Garcelasso as L'Inca also betrays ignorance. The Spanish article

is El, while the elevation of Menendez Marques to the Marquis de

Menendez is equal to Puss in Boots, who made marquises offhand.

It is not surprising, then, to find the period from 1568 to 1722

embraced in 34 pages, and in those only four references to Barcia,

and these not all correct, though in the 228 pages given by the

Spanish historian of Florida to that period much interesting matter

might have been found.

Nor is his acquaintance with the works that have appeared in English

such as we should expect.

The later portion of the history seems more within his grasp; but

without entering into too great detail, we miss any reference to

Farmer's account of the siege of Pensacola.

Much of the space in the earlier portion is devoted to the French

colony and its bloody extinction by Menendez, and to Gourgues's

attack. In this matter he does not treat the matter as Sparks did

years ago, or Parkman recently. By all these writers, moreover,

some points are overlooked. The piratical character of the French

cruisers, who, after the Reformation, made religion a cloak for their

murders and piracy; the object in selecting Florida, which was to

form a base for operations against Spanish commerce; the long-settled

determination of the Spanish crown to root out any colony planted in

Florida, upon the most plausible pretext the occasion would give;

the overt acts of piracy of the new French colony in Florida; and,

finally, the critical position of both parties, neither of whom,

in case of victory, would have dared to keep any of the enemy as

prisoners.

He takes the De Gourgues account as the French give it, and, with

them, multiplies forts at San Mateo; but we must confess that there

are discrepancies in it which have always excited our distrust,

although the story is accepted generally by French Catholic writers.

PINK AND WHITE TYRANNY. A Society Novel. By Mrs.

Harriet B. Stowe. Boston: Roberts Brothers.

Mrs. Stowe has given us in this volume, with her usual distinctness

of purpose, a true picture, not overdrawn, of fashionable life

as displayed at our popular watering-places and in many of our

fashionable homes. The author's "views," so pronounced on all

subjects, are generally given with characteristic energy and

earnestness, if not always with discrimination. So graphic are her

descriptions that the reader can see the places she describes, and

has a clear insight into the hearts of her characters.

It is well that one whose writings are always so extensively read

should show up the corrupt condition of manners and morals that

prevail in what is technically called "high life," and in this book

Mrs. Stowe has given an interesting and lifelike picture of the

everyday well-known scandals that are sapping the very foundation of

our existence as a nation.

It is hardly just, however, to put all the folly, all the

extravagance, and all the sin of our demoralized belles and beauty

to the credit of France; poor France has enough of her own to bear.

French morals, French manners, French novels, French literature, and

even the French language are put down in this volume as the source

of all in the morals of this country that is not pure and elevating.

The root of the trouble lies nearer home, and spreads far back to the

childhood of these vain men and women, when they were taught that to

_enjoy themselves_ was the great end for which they were made. "Have

a jolly time in life, honestly if you can, but have the jolly time

any way," is the chief lesson given to the children and young persons

belonging to the world of to-day; and this peoples our places of

public resort with the "fast" and the shameless.

A poetic picture of New England life is Mrs. Stowe's specialty,

and refined, cultivated, quiet Springdale is refreshing after the

flirtations and assignations of the watering-places.

We find in these pages a just and charming tribute to the Irish

character as wife and mother; while the author's views of marriage

are in accordance with the teachings of the Catholic Church, and

it is no small merit in the book that it strongly advocates the

doctrine, "one with one exclusively, and for ever."

THE LIFE AND REVELATIONS OF SAINT GERTRUDE. By the

author of "St. Francis and the Franciscans," etc.

London: Burns, Oates & Co. Boston; P. Donahoe. 1871.

This is another of the "Kenmare series of books for spiritual

reading." It needs no other recommendation. The profit to be derived

from a devout reading of the revelations of this great saint is

inestimable. They cannot fail to have a lasting influence on the mind

that opens itself to their teaching. If some may object that such a

book as this is too mediæval for the nineteenth century, we answer

that there are plenty of chosen souls who look back to the middle

ages as the millennium of the Church, when earth was nearest heaven.

ST. PETER: HIS NAME AND HIS OFFICE. By Thomas W.

Allies, M.A., Author of "The See of St. Peter the Rock

of the Church," and other Works. 1 vol. 12mo, pp.

299. London: R. Washbourne; New York: The Catholic

Publication Society. 1871.

This work, partly drawn from the _Commentary on the Prerogatives of

St. Peter, Prince of the Apostles_, of Passaglia, and partly the

composition of the learned author, was first published in 1852, and

elicited the highest encomiums from the most learned portion of the

Christian world. Its republication at this time, when so much is

said, and so little is actually known, by persons not Catholics, of

the apostolic succession, and the divine power vested in the visible

head of the church, is exceedingly well timed. The book, though

small in compass, contains not only all the leading incidents of

St. Peter's life, but irrefutable proofs of his holy mission and

supremacy in the church. Those who have any doubts of the primacy of

the See of Rome, or who wish to satisfy themselves as to the extent

of the power delegated to our Holy Father, should give Mr. Allies's

book a careful and serious perusal.

GOLDEN WORDS; OR, MAXIMS OF THE CROSS. By F. H.

Hamilton, M.A. 1 vol. pp. 78. London: Burns, Oates &

Co.; New York: The Catholic Publication Society.

This beautifully printed little book is, as the author candidly

confesses, made up mainly from selections made from the writings

of the celebrated Thomas à Kempis. To say this is to pronounce the

highest eulogy that can be expressed, for we believe there is no

person who claims to be Christian, and who has read _The Following of

Christ_, but admits that, of all the uninspired writers, its author

is foremost in wisdom, piety, and practical illustration. Though in

large, clear type, this work is so judiciously condensed that any

person can carry it in his pocket, and thus have it at all times for

reference and edification.

The Catholic Publication Society has just published new editions

of _Gahan's History of the Catholic Church_ and _Mylius's History

of England_. Both works are continued down to the present time.

The Society also publishes a new and improved edition of _Fleury's

Historical Catechism_, revised, corrected, and edited by Rev. Henry

Formby. This excellent work is intended as a class-book for schools,

and, if ordered in quantities, the Society is prepared to furnish it

at an extraordinarily low price. The Society has also in the hands of

the binder Fr. Formby's _Pictorial Bible and Church History Stories_.

This work ought to be introduced into our schools.

Mr. P. F. Cunningham, Philadelphia, has in press _Cineas_, a story

of the time of Nero, the burning of Rome by that tyrant, and the

destruction of Jerusalem. Mr. Donahoe, Boston, announces as in press

a _Compendium of Irish History_, _Ned Rusheen_, and _The Spouse

of Christ_--all by Sister Mary Francis Clare; also, _The Monks of

the West_, by Montalembert; a _Life of Pius IX._, and _Ballads of

Irish Chivalry_, etc., by R. D. Joyce. Messrs. Kelly, Piet & Co.,

Baltimore, announce as in press _Mary Benedicta_ and the _Pearl of

Antioch_. Messrs. Murphy & Co., Baltimore, have just completed their

_Church Registers_, comprising Baptism, Matrimony, Confirmation,

Interments, etc.--in all, three Latin Registers and four _Church

Records_, uniformly bound and put up in neat boxes.

* * * * *

A MISTAKE CORRECTED.--Mr. Robert A. Bakewell desires us to correct

a statement which was made in our last number, in the article "The

Secular not Supreme," respecting the views formerly expressed by that

gentleman in _The Shepherd of the Valley_, on the subject discussed

in the aforesaid article. Mr. Bakewell has frequently contradicted

a misquotation and misinterpretation of his language by secular and

sectarian papers, which has made him say that Catholics, if they

ever became a large majority of the people of this country, would

suppress religious liberty. What he really did say was that, in the

event supposed, they would, in accordance with Catholic principles,

restrain by law the teaching of those errors which are subversive of

_natural religion and morality_. Mr. Bakewell states, also, that he

has never retracted the views which he expressed in his published

writings on this subject, and says that they were impugned by two

only of the Catholic newspapers at the time.

BOOKS RECEIVED.

From GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS, New York: The Coolie: His

Rights and Wrongs, 1 vol. paper.

From LONGMANS, GREEN & CO., London: Ignatius Loyola and

the Early Jesuits. By Stewart Rose, 1 vol. 8vo, pp. 548.

From R. WASHBOURNE, London: The Men and Women of the

English Reformation, from the Days of Wolsey to the

Death of Cranmer. Papal and Anti-Papal Notables. By S.

H. Burke, author of The Monastic Houses of England.

Vol. 1.

From BURNS, OATES & CO., London: The Life of St.

Ignatius Loyola. By Father Genelli, of the Society

of Jesus. Translated from the German of M. Charles

Sainte-Foi, and rendered from the French by the

Rev. Thomas Meyrick, S.J. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 357.--Of

Adoration in Spirit and Truth. Written in Four Books.

By John Eusebius Neremberg, S.J., native of Madrid, and

translated into English by R. S., S.J., in which is

disclosed the pith and marrow of a spiritual life of

Christ's imitation, and mystical theology; extracted

out of the Holy Fathers, and greatest masters of

spirit, Diadochus, Dorotheus, Climachus, Rusbrochius,

Suso, Thaulerus, a Kempis, Gerson; and not a little

both pious and effectual is superadded. With a preface

by Rev. Peter Galloway, S.J. 1 vol. 12mo, pp. 438.

* * * * *

Transcriber's Note:

_Underscores_ surround italicized words; =Equal signs= surround bold.

Obvious typographical errors were repaired, but legimate archaic

spellings were retained (for example, villany, villanous, stalworth,

reconnoissance, idyl, etc.)

"To Be Continued" on P. 412, 476, 541, and 618 were missing from the

original, and were added to alert the reader to continuations.

P. 51-54, in the article on "Sor Juana Ines De La Cruz," the Spanish

stanzas and their English translations were in opposite columns. For

ease of reading in multiple formats, each English stanza has been

indented below its Spanish original.

P. 633, "Memoir of Father John de Brébeuf": "what a martyr bore a

Christian may have courage to Three.'and bringing the scalding water

from the caldron"--there appears to be text missing between "courage

to" and "Three" in the original publication. Unable to determine what

that text would be.