acceptance of certain views put forward by a school of physiologists who
imagine that their science is the measure of man in his totality. We
admit that crime is closely connected with cerebral conditions, that the
brain is the organ of manifestation which the mind employs, and that
those manifestations are modified to a considerable extent by the
condition of the organ. But this does not interfere with the character
of the mind viewed as a distinct entity; indeed, it rather harmonizes
with the facts as admitted by the universal sentiment of mankind. Mr.
Dugdale makes a fatal mistake when he supposes that a changed cerebral
state may be accompanied by a change in the moral character; for it is
possible that a chemist may one day discover some substance or
combination of substances which might supply the missing cells or
stimulate the arrested growth. Man is not a machine; neither is he a
mere physiological being. He is a rational animal, consisting of a soul
and a body, two distinct substances hypostatically united; and until
this truth is recognized no reform can be wrought in the ranks of the
criminal classes by even greater men than Mr. Dugdale. If the “whole
process of education is the building up of cerebral cells,” admonitions,
instructions, and example are thrown away on the vicious. There is
naught to do but to “build up cells” and stimulate “arrested cerebral
development.” How false is this daily experience proves; for we know
that a salutary change of prison discipline often converts brutal and
hardened criminals into comparatively good men. Take as an instance what
occurred in the _Maison de Correction de Nîmes_ in 1839. This prison was
in charge of certain political favorites who were fitter to be inmates
than officials. Mismanagement reigned supreme, and the excesses
committed by the prisoners can scarcely be believed. The most revolting
crimes were done in broad daylight, not only with the connivance but at
the instigation of the keepers. At last things had come to such a pass
that the government was compelled to interfere, and, having expelled the
unworthy men in charge, substituted for them a small band of Christian
Brothers under the control of the late venerable Brother Facile, when an
amazing change soon ensued. There was no question with the brothers of
studying the increase of cerebral cells or stimulating arrested
development. They changed the dietary for the better; they separated the
most depraved from those younger in crime; they punished with
discrimination; they encouraged good conduct by rewards; they set before
the convict the example of self-sacrificing, laborious, and mortified
lives; and in three weeks they converted this pandemonium into the model
prison of France.
Can these facts be made to accord with the statement that the whole
process of education is “building up of cerebral cells”? If Mr. Dugdale
would substitute the term “moral faculties” for “cerebral cells,” he
would theorize much more correctly and to better practical effect.
Speaking of subjecting the growing criminal to a system of instruction
resembling the _Kindergarten_, he says:
“The advantage of the _Kindergarten_ rests in this: that it
coherently trains the sense and awakens the spirit of
accountability, building up cerebral tissue. It thus organizes
new channels of activity through which vitality may spread
itself for the advantage of the individual and the benefit of
society, and concurrently endows each individual with a
governing will.”
We agree with Mr. Dugdale that such a system of training is well
calculated to bring about these results, but certainly not in the manner
he indicates. Let us translate his language into that which correctly
describes the process of improvement in the criminal, and we find it to
be as follows:
Let the subject on whom we are to try the system of training in question
be a boy of fourteen rescued from the purlieus of a large city. His
education must be very elementary indeed. His intellectual faculties are
to be treated according to their natural vigor or feebleness, but his
moral faculties are especially to be moulded with care and watchfulness.
He has been accustomed to gratify his evil passions and to yield to
every propensity. The will, therefore, is the weakest of his faculties,
and constant efforts must be made to strengthen it. With this view he
should be frequently required to do things that are distasteful to him,
beginning, of course, with what is easy and what might entail no
discomfort on the ordinary boy. The will is thus gradually strengthened,
both by this direct exercise and by the reaction upon it of the
intellect, which is undergoing a concurrent training.
This is all that Mr. Dugdale means to convey when his words are
translated into ordinary language. When he dismounts from his scientific
hobby, however, he imparts counsel for the treatment of criminals which
we heartily endorse. Thus, in speaking of industrial training, he says
(p. 54): “The direct effect, therefore, of industrial training is to
curb licentiousness, the secondary effect to decrease the craving for
alcoholic stimulants and reduce the number of illegitimate children who
will grow up uncared for.” He tells us that with the disappearance of
log-huts and hovels—and, we might add, the reeking tenements of our
cities—lubricity will also disappear. This is true to a great extent,
but surely it is not all that is required. We might cultivate the
æsthetic tastes to the utmost, we might have a population dwelling in
palaces and lounging in luxurious booths, and be no better morally than
those who, while enjoying those privileges, tolerated the mysteries of
the _Bona Dea_ and assisted at the abominations which have made the city
of Paphos the synonym of every iniquity. All attempts at the reformation
of our criminal classes without the instrumentality of religion will
prove unavailing. You may “make clean the outside of the cup and of the
dish, but within you are full of rapine and uncleanliness.” These words
will for ever hold true of those who inculcate and pretend to practise
morality without religion. The attempt has often been made, and has as
often signally failed, so that we regard the presentation of proof here
superfluous. The student of the history of social philosophy is well
aware of the truth of this principle, and none but the purblind or the
unwilling fail to perceive it. Religion is the basis of morality, and
morality the pivot of reform. Let the friends of the criminals recognize
these fundamental truths, and they may then hope to make some progress
in their work. Then it will be time to defend and demonstrate the merits
of the congregate system of imprisonment; then we might with profit
insist upon the proper classification of prisoners, the necessity of
proportioning penalty to offence, and not blasting the lives of mere
boys by sending them for twenty years to Sing Sing for a first offence,
thus compelling them to consort with ruffians of the most hardened
description during the period which should be the brightest of their
lives. Then all those reforms which philanthropists are ever planning
might be wisely introduced, but not till then can we hope for the
millennium of true reform to dawn upon us.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
RELIGION IN JAMAICA.
The population of Jamaica numbers about half a million, of whom nearly
four-fifths are blacks, one hundred thousand colored people, and only
thirteen thousand Europeans. In addition to these there are several
thousand Cubans and Haytians, who have been driven from their homes by
political troubles, some thousands of Indian coolies, and a few Chinese
and Madeira Portuguese.
Of this motley population only a few thousand are Catholics. The greater
part of the English belong to the Church of England, which, however, has
been disestablished in Jamaica for some years. These enjoy the full
benefit of the usual High Church and Low Church party warfare. One of
the leading clergy of this denomination has started a monthly paper in
Jamaica, called the _Truth-Seeker_. It is to be hoped that he may be
successful in his search. The last number which the writer saw contained
arguments in favor of spiritualism, homœopathy, and Extreme Unction. The
editor is a vegetarian and teetotaler, and is said to have employed in
the communion service, as a substitute for wine, the juice of a few
grapes squeezed into a tumbler of water. When the bishop was asked about
it he made a wry face and expressed a hope that he might never receive
the communion in his teetotal friend’s church again. This reminds us of
an incident related by a Church of England parson. He arrived at
Kingston by the mail steamer from England on a Sunday morning, and duly
betook himself to a church. It happened to be communion Sunday, and he
“stayed.” He noticed that most of the white people went up to receive
first, and that the few who neglected to do so, and who communicated
with the negroes, came back to their seats screwing up very wry faces.
Our friend solved the mystery when, going up nearly last, he found that
his black friends’ lips had imparted such a flavor to the cup that he
did not lose the taste of it for hours!
But the most popular sect amongst the blacks is the Baptist. The Baptist
ministers are credited with having been the cause of the insurrection a
dozen years ago, which was attended with so much bloodshed. Their great
recommendation to the people appears to consist in their teaching
virtually that the country belongs to the black man, and that the whites
endeavor to defraud them of their rights by giving them insufficient
wages and by other means. The consequence is that the negroes frequently
defraud their employers by theft, shirking work, injuring their
property, and so forth.
The Wesleyans and Presbyterians have large followings. There are also
some Moravian stations. After a certain term of years the Moravian
missionary is judged worthy to be rewarded with connubial bliss, and a
spouse is selected by the authorities in Europe and sent out to him. The
Jews are numerous and opulent, a great part of the commerce of the
country being in their hands. But they are said to be very indifferent
as to their religion, Jewish ladies often marrying people of other
religions and ending by professing none at all.
It is pleasant to turn from these conflicting sects to consider the
Catholic Church. Kingston, the capital of Jamaica, contains forty
thousand people, and of these seven thousand are Catholics. The Jamaica
mission is in the hands of the Jesuits. They do not number more than
half a score, and are consequently hardly worked. They have a convenient
house, popularly called the “French College,” though there is only one
French priest there. Attached to it is a small college for the education
of Catholic youths, but several Protestants are permitted to benefit by
the instruction there given. In the little chapel at the back of the
house the Blessed Sacrament is reserved. Among the priests is a
venerable man whose tall, ascetic figure commands universal respect. He
was formerly a Protestant clergyman, a fellow of his college at Oxford,
and one of that remarkable band of men who founded the Oxford or
Tractarian party. His quiet, instructive sermons are of a very high
order, simple, admirably expressed, and pregnant with matter. Equally
beloved is a white-headed French priest who has labored in Kingston for
thirty years, and who endeared himself to all by his indefatigable
devotion to the sick and dying during a terrible epidemic of yellow
fever which raged there some years ago. He is well acquainted with, and
sympathizes in, the joys and sorrows of all the congregation, and, in
spite of a strong French accent which renders his conversation nearly
unintelligible to a stranger, all seem to understand him perfectly.
There are several younger priests who conduct the college, and one
devotes his energies especially to work amongst the Cubans. There is
also an excellent lay brother, a convert from Protestantism, who
presides over a school for the children of poor Catholics. The church,
dedicated to the Holy Trinity, is a plain brick structure, like all the
churches and chapels in Kingston, but it is distinguished from the
others by crosses on the gable ends. There are two side altars in
addition to the high altar. The latter is handsomely adorned, and above
it is a rose-window of stained glass. There is a good attendance at the
daily Masses, which are said from five to half-past six, the
congregation consisting mainly of black or colored people.
Besides the large church there is a smaller one dedicated to St. Martin,
and commonly called the “Cuban Chapel,” because it is employed
especially for their use. Spanish sermons are preached there at the
eight o’clock Mass on Sundays. At the commencement of the month of May a
handsome new altar was built and High Mass celebrated, the church being
crowded with devout worshippers.
Near the large church is a convent with a private chapel, the nuns
devoting themselves to the education of a number of young ladies, mostly
Haytians, who reside with them.
A mile from the town is the camp of the First West India Regiment, a
corps of Black Zouaves. Some of them being Catholics, Mass is said there
on Sundays by a priest from Kingston. Another goes on alternate Sundays
to Port Royal, a few miles from Kingston, where the guard-ship, the
_Aboukir_, is stationed, and says Mass for the Catholic seamen.
The whole of the remainder of the island is served by three priests, who
lead a most arduous life, constantly riding or driving from one station
to another. Newcastle, a beautiful place in the Port Royal mountains
nearly four thousand feet above the sea, is the station of the
Thirty-fifth Regiment of the Line, and Mass is said here on alternate
Sundays by a young priest who has just arrived from England, and
replaced a stalwart father who was formerly senior captain in his
regiment. Another extensive district is served by a worthy Belgian
father with venerable beard and simple manners. This apostolic man rides
long distances, often having to ford dangerously swollen torrents, and
frequently having no lodging but the sacristy of a rural chapel, and no
food but a little yam and salt fish.
But the most experienced missionary in the island is the superior of the
Jesuits, who is vicar-apostolic. He has travelled about Jamaica on
missionary journeys for sixteen years, and boasts that he knows every
road and track in the country. He is generally beloved by Catholic,
Protestant, and Jew alike, his genial manners and cheerful conversation
making him a welcome guest everywhere, and his medical skill (for he was
a physician before he joined the Society of Jesus) having enabled him to
confer material benefits on many suffering persons. He has always led an
active life, and is especially fond of relating his reminiscences of the
siege of Sebastopol, where he was senior Catholic chaplain to the
British forces. He drives about in a buggy, with spare horses following
under the charge of his servant, or “boy,” who rides on horseback. The
Jamaica horses are small, poor-looking animals, costing little, and very
hardy and inexpensive, but they are capable of a great deal of trying
work.
To reach Kingston for the confirmation on Pentecost Sunday, the good
father had to drive for some miles over a road on which the water had
risen from a neighboring river to such an extent that it was as high as
the axles, and sometimes even came into the buggy. Fording swollen
streams on horseback in the rainy season is often very dangerous work.
This father having one day with difficulty crossed such a stream, a
negro, who had been watching him all the time, told him that he was the
first person who had succeeded in crossing there for some days, three
men who had attempted it having been drowned.
“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” asked the priest.
“My sweet minister, me want to see what you do.”
Not that the man bore him any malice, but these people seem to be
totally reckless of human life.
If he can be said to have any home, the vicar-apostolic lives in a
pretty little house on the northwest coast. It is about a mile from the
sea, but some hundreds of feet above it, and commands a magnificent view
of the well-wooded hills, the sea, and the numerous small islands
covered with mangroves. Near the house is a small oratory, built as a
coach-house. It is very plain, and yet unpaved, the congregation
kneeling on small pieces of board placed on the earth. Attached to the
house is a pen, or grazing farm, of about seven hundred acres. It is for
the most part overgrown with bush, the property having been much
neglected; but strenuous efforts are being made to set it in good order,
and not without success. It is hoped that it will eventually realize
sufficient to support four or five missionary priests, which will be a
great advantage to the church in Jamaica, as the mission there is very
poor. The property was left to the church by a Catholic gentleman who
resided on it and died some few years ago. It now supports about one
hundred head of cattle, besides which it is planted with a number of
pimento, lime, and cocoanut trees, the fruits of which are of value.
A private chapel, which stands in the grounds of a gentleman who resides
on one of the most beautiful pens in the island, is well worthy of
mention. This gentleman is a convert and has done much for the church.
His chapel is the most charming little rustic oratory imaginable, the
chancel screen and other wood-work being made of rough twisted branches
of trees, and the staircase to the gallery consisting of the trunk of a
pine tree with steps cut in it. On the Sundays when Mass is said here
the Catholics from eight or ten miles round drive or ride in, and the
chapel is sometimes nearly filled. After Mass they take their dinner,
which they have brought with them, and walk about and admire the
beautiful garden, the hospitable proprietor and the ladies of the family
saying kind words of welcome to their humbler friends. An hour after
Mass there is rosary and benediction, after which the people return to
their distant homes.
But not always can a church be had for Mass. In some places a room in a
private house is all that can be obtained, and the Catholics of the
neighborhood, having been warned by letter of the intended service,
assemble at the appointed hour. The priest will sit in one room to hear
confessions, whilst the people wait in an adjacent one, where a
sideboard or table is prepared as an altar. After Mass will often follow
baptisms, marriages, or confirmations. But the great work before the
church in Jamaica now is to form stations with churches where Mass may
be celebrated at stated times. Several such are already established, and
things are better than formerly, when the Holy Sacrifice had often to be
offered up in the houses of Protestants. But much has yet to be done,
and there is good reason to hope that the time will come when the small
Jamaica church will develop into a flourishing diocese. In spite of the
prevalent indifference as to religion, some of the Protestants are
beginning to see that truth is not to be obtained in their conflicting
sects, and they are turning their eyes Romeward in search of peace.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
MARGUERITE.
“Frogs, fresh frogs! Buy a few frogs!” cried a sweet girl’s voice, which
blended strangely with the other sounds and voices round about the
little booth near Fulton Market. “Frogs, fresh frogs!”
“Ride up, gentlemen, ride up!”
“Move on quick, move on!”
“Look out, mister, or I’ll run over you!”
And on the ’buses and drays and express-wagons rumbled and rolled, and
the policeman screamed himself hoarse trying to keep the great
thoroughfare clear; the mud, which was knee-deep, flew in all
directions, the jaded horses floundered and fell in the grimy slough,
and ’twas Pandemonium indeed just here where pretty Marguerite’s
frog-stand stood. But the girl, who was used to the bustle and din, went
on quietly knitting a stocking and calling out, “Frogs, fresh frogs! Buy
a few frogs!” while her words, like a strain of sweet music, floated
away upon the muggy April air, heavy with oaths and villanous cries.
We have called our heroine pretty; yet this was not strictly true. Many
a young woman passed through the market with more beautiful features
than she had. Her nose was of no particular shape—we might term it a
neutral nose—and her mouth was decidedly broad; while the tall, white
cap she wore gave her a quaint, outlandish appearance that made not a
few people stare and smile. But Marguerite’s eyes redeemed, ay, more
than redeemed, whatever was faulty in the rest of her countenance. Oh!
what eyes she had—so large and black and lustrous. Like two precious
stones they seemed; and when she turned them wistfully upon you, you
were fascinated and rooted to the spot, and if the girl ever sold any
frogs it was thanks to those wonderful eyes.
Poor thing! at the age of seventeen to be left an orphan, alone and
friendless in the big city of New York. Poor thing! From the Battery up
to Murray Hill, and across from river to river, not a solitary being
knew or cared about her; and had she died—died even a violent,
sensational death—the coroner’s inquest would have taken up scarce three
lines in the daily papers, after which, like a drop of water falling
into the ocean, she would have passed out of sight and mind for ever.
But no, we are wrong; there was one who did care for Marguerite—one who
had known her parents when they first came over from France, and had
done everything she could to help them. But, alas! down in the whirlpool
of poverty husband and wife had disappeared and died, and many a pang
shot across Mother Catherine’s breast as she thought of the child left
now to shift for herself like so many other waifs.
The girl’s home was in a tenement-house, and the room where she slept
was shared by three other women, who would have made it a filthy,
disorderly place indeed except for Marguerite. Every morning she swept
the floor, opened the window to let in fresh air, and imparted a cosey
look to what would otherwise have been the most squalid chamber in the
building. By her mattress hung a crucifix, a gift from Mother Catherine,
and near the crucifix was a piece of old looking-glass which Marguerite
had found in a dust-barrel. Before this she would daily spend a quarter
of an hour making her toilet. Her dark hair was neatly gathered up
beneath her Norman cap—only one little tress peeping out; across her
bosom was pinned a clean white kerchief; the mud-spots were carefully
brushed off her tattered gown; then, after lingering a moment to admire
herself, she would sally forth, the envy of all the slatterns in the
neighborhood, and the boys would wink to one another and say: “What a
nice-looking gal!”
Marguerite often wished that she had a better class of admirers than
these. “But, alas!” she would sigh, “I am poor. Poverty like a mountain
presses me down. If I could sell more frogs and get a new dress, then
real gentlemen might notice me. But, alas! I must be thankful I have
this old calico thing to cover me. But even this is falling in rags, and
I may soon be without shoes to my feet.”
One day, while she was thus inwardly bemoaning her hard lot and crying
out: “Frogs, fresh frogs! Buy a few frogs!” without having anybody come
to buy even a dime’s worth, her attention was drawn to a middle-aged
man, dressed in a faded suit of black, who had paused on his way up the
street, and seemed to be listening with wonder to her cry.
He was not at all handsome, yet there was something very striking about
him, and you would have marked him out in a crowd as one who did not
follow in the beaten ways of other men.
When he first halted, his thin, wan face had assumed an air of surprise;
but presently, advancing nearer to the booth, this changed to an
expression of melancholy which caused the girl to feel pity for him.
“Are you selling frogs, miss—frogs?” he said, fixing his deep, sunken
eyes upon her.
“Yes, sir. Would you like a few?” replied Marguerite, her heart
fluttering with hope.