The characters and careers of Richelieu and Mazarin furnish one of

those points of comparison which history is so fond of. Richelieu was

undeniably the more brilliant statesman of the two; he was endowed with

greater originality and a larger breadth of view; he left a deeper

impress on his time, and his remote action on France was more enduring;

but if the achievement of peace be more valuable to a people than the

prosecution of war, Mazarin has paramount claims on the gratitude of

his country. The Treaty of Westphalia, and the Peace of the Pyrenees,

are two monuments raised by Mazarin to his own fame that out-top all

the dazzling trophies of his predecessors, and establish a nobler

claim to the admiration of the civilized world than all Richelieu’s

victorious accomplishments in war. Both statesmen were pre-eminently

gifted with that power of reading men which is so serviceable an agent

in the hands of those who are called to govern. It was this electric

instinct which prompted Richelieu to single out Mazarin from the crowd

as the man best fitted to be his successor—a choice which the young

Italian justified by carrying out with unswerving fixity of purpose

the vast unfinished designs of the patron whom death had cut short in

the midst of his work. Mazarin, on the other hand, gave a striking

proof of this same subtle insight when he said of the young king, then

a mere boy in his mother’s leading-strings, and as yet having done

nothing to reveal the future grand monarch: “There is stuff enough in

him to make four kings and one honest man.” Both ministers set their

influence and power above the interest and authority of the sovereign;

but both labored with unflinching steadiness of aim to raise the

monarchy to a height of splendor it had never before reached, and was

not destined long to retain. Both carried their _soutane_ with more

of martial dignity than priestly gravity—that _soutane_ of which

Richelieu boasted: “I mow down everything, I upset everything, and

then I cover it all with my red _soutane_.” Both made it the business

of their lives while at the head of the state to humble Austria and

Spain, and both succeeded. The marriage of Louis XIV. with the Infanta

of Spain was one of Mazarin’s most successful diplomatic acts; he

foresaw in this union the probable succession of the Bourbons to the

crown of Charles Quint. But alongside of his many services to his

country, there is one act of his that goes far to annul them—this

was his introduction of gambling into France. To this deplorable

importation the Abbé St. Pierre traces, not perhaps without a shade

of exaggeration, but with palpable logic, the rapid decadence of the

national morals and character; he says that Mazarin inoculated the

young king with the passion for games of hazard, in order to keep his

mind aloof from things in which it became him better to be interested,

and thereby to prevent his interference in the affairs of state; the

regent, in her turn, became smitten with the novel mania, and would

spend whole nights with her court playing cards. Mazarin himself was

an incorrigible gambler, and often devoted to this passion the hours

he should have given to sleep after his day’s arduous task. He was

looked upon more as a player of doubtful honesty—“_un joueur plus que

suspect_”; but “who allowed others in turn to cheat him, provided they

did it cleverly,” St. Pierre tells us; and he goes on to say: “The

young nobles, first at court, and then all over the country, followed

his example, and took to card-playing; they forsook the athletic

sports and manly amusements which had delighted their fathers, and

gave themselves up to this enervating and ruinous passion; they became

weaker, more ignorant, and less polished; women caught the fever, and

grew to respect themselves less, and to be less respected.” Mazarin’s

avarice was as insatiable as his ambition; he died colossally rich;

but during his last illness, seized with remorse, he made over all his

unjust gains to the king, who, of course, refused to accept them, and

the cardinal then divided his vast wealth between Louis, the queen,

Condé, Turenne, his friend Louis de Haro, and several members of his

own family. He bequeathed a large sum for the foundation of a college,

which he also endowed with his splendid library, recollected after its

dispersion by the Frondeurs at immense trouble and expense. He wished

this college to be called _Collége des quatre nations_, destining it

chiefly for the education of young men belonging to the four provinces

annexed to France during his ministry—Pignerol, Alsace, Roussillon,

and Artois. Le Tellier, who was his executor, punctually obeyed all

his instructions except the last-named. By desire of the king, it

was called Collége Mazarin, which was to become the magnificent

Bibliothèque Royale of to-day.

Henrietta Maria of England occupied the Palais Royal in 1644. The

marriage of her daughter Henrietta to Philip of Orleans, then Duc

d’Anjou, was celebrated here with great pomp, and here the young

princess held a brilliant court for a few years, while her mother dwelt

in the cloistered retreat of Chaillot. The thread of this bright young

life was suddenly snapped asunder. Bossuet’s “O night of horror!” came

like a thunderbolt from a summer sky, scattering the volatile court,

and spreading the news of its loss over the whole of France. Then came

the Regency, which was to add a chapter of such dark and lamentable

notoriety to the history of the Palais Royal. The nephew of Louis

XIV. inherited all the vices and foibles of his race without any of

their redeeming qualities. His selfish, easy-going _bonhomie_ has been

sometimes lauded as clemency; but it may more justly be considered

a combination of weakness and cynical contempt for the claims of

justice. When the enraged populace gathered before his palace, dragging

three naked corpses—the victims of their legitimate but misplaced

anger—along with them, the regent looked out at the tempestuous scene,

and remarked coolly: “The mob are right; the wonder is they bear so

much from us.” And truly it was a wonder; and if the Revolution of

‘93 did not break out under the lawless and exasperating rule of the

Regency, it must only have been because, as St. Simon explained it,

“three things are necessary to make a revolution: leaders, brains,

and funds, none of which were to be found in France at this period.”

The _petits soupers de la Régence_, which have acquired an infamous

celebrity through all the chronicles of the time, can have no place in

our sketch.

The visit of Peter the Great broke in on the luxurious and effeminate

court of the Palais Royal like a Spartan appearing suddenly in the

midst of a banquet of Sybarites. Peter, who had “civilized his people

by cutting their heads off,” set his heart on visiting France during

the preceding reign; but Louis XIV., partly from an insurmountable

antipathy to the semi-barbarous autocrat, partly from political

motives, had signified to his brother of all the Russias that his

absence would be more agreeable than his presence. Peter was compelled,

therefore, to wait until the Grand Monarque had rejoined his ancestors

before gratifying his desire to visit Paris. The regent, far from

making any difficulty about receiving him, made the most sumptuous

preparations for the Northern reformer, and invited him to be his guest

at the Palais Royal. But the hardy Muscovite could not conceal his

contempt for the epicurean habits of his host, and horrified him by

declaring that he never slept on anything softer than a camp-stretcher,

which he carried with him in all his peregrinations, and used on the

field of battle and in his own palace, and which he insisted now on

substituting for the luxurious couch prepared for him. Altogether,

the ways of Peter bewildered the nephew of Louis XIV. He was up with

the birds, and flying over the city to see things and people that

the latter would never have dreamed of calling his attention to. He

expressed a wish to see Mme. de Maintenon, then living in dignified

retreat at St. Cyr. Her Solidity, as Louis XIV. had dubbed her, pleaded

ill-health as an excuse for declining the honor and fatigue of an

official reception. Peter, therefore, set off one morning and scared

the learned and sedate ladies of St. Cyr out of their propriety by

requesting to be shown at once to Mme. de Maintenon’s room. On arriving

there, he entered without knocking, walked straight to the bed, pushed

aside the curtains, and, sitting down beside the astonished lady,

entered brusquely into conversation. The Sorbonne he also honored

with one of these unceremonious visitations; perceiving a statue of

Richelieu in one of the galleries, he rushed up to it, and, clasping

the marble in his arms, exclaimed: “O incomparable man! would that thou

wert still alive, and I would give thee one-half of my empire to teach

me how to govern the other!”

But with all this rough and somewhat ostentatious disregard of

etiquette, Peter had a keen sense of what was due to his imperial

mightiness, and, with the caprice of a despot, could assert it

trenchantly enough when he thought fit. The regent invited a number

of the most illustrious men of the day to meet his eccentric guest

at a banquet at the Palais Royal. As they were about to enter the

dining-room, little Louis XV. stood back to let the czar pass first;

Peter was unwilling to take precedence of the King of France, and

equally reluctant to walk behind a child, so he wittily solved the

difficulty by catching up the small monarch in his arms and carrying

him to his seat.

The regent closed his ignoble life at the Palais Royal in 1723. His

son Louis, Duke of Orleans, succeeded him. This prince brought his

young bride, Jeanne de Bade, there soon after he took possession of his

ancestral home, and lost her after a brief and blissful union. At the

time of her death, Louis XV. was lying mortally sick, it was believed,

at Metz, and thither, in the frenzy of his grief, the bereaved husband

flew, and, going straight to the room of the dying king, demanded

admittance; the attendants expostulated, but Louis pushed them aside,

and kicked in the door to announce his loss to the kinsman who himself

lay battling with death. He survived Jeanne some years, but never

recovered her loss; he led a solitary and desolate life, and gave

himself up to works of benevolence and the study of oriental languages.

He became a perfect adept in the Arabic, Hebrew, and Greek tongues,

and never appeared at court as a widower except when the imperious

etiquette of Versailles occasionally demanded it. He died in 1752. His

son’s reign at the Palais Royal is chiefly remarkable by his having

inoculated his own children with small-pox; the daring experiment,

which was performed by Tronchin, summoned from Geneva for the purpose,

was crowned with success. Paris, transported with joy, made bonfires in

the Place in front of the palace, and for a time the rash and fortunate

father was the hero of toast and song. Another event which signalized

his occupation of Richelieu’s palace was the destruction of the theatre

by fire (1763). The duke rebuilt it on a somewhat larger but infinitely

less gorgeous scale as to decoration. He was an enlightened patron

of art, and especially kind in assisting young men whose talent was

struggling to make head against poverty. He divined the genius of the

young poet Le Fèvre, and encouraged him both by personal notice and by

liberal gifts. He was so pleased with Le Fèvre’s tragedy _Zuma_ that

immediately on its appearance he bestowed a pension of 1,200 crowns

on the poet out of his privy purse; and on the latter’s asking what

services were expected from him in return for this munificence, the

duke answered: “It obliges you to work henceforth more ardently for

your own fame—nothing more.” This prince, though he allowed himself

to be drawn, to a certain extent, into the fashionable follies of

the court, had inherited from his father many sterling and beautiful

qualities. His benevolence was unbounded; but it was only after his

death that his real character was revealed, so carefully did he shun

everything like ostentation in the exercise of his favorite virtue. It

was then discovered that two-thirds of his immense revenue had been

spent upon the poor, in the payment of pensions to artists, men of

letters, widows, etc.; some granted in his own name, others in the name

of one or other of his ancestors. His condescending kindness towards

his dependents endeared him to all who approached him. A chamberlain

coming one day to announce to him the death of a most inefficient

and tiresome valet, who had been twenty years in the duke’s service,

“Poor fellow!” sighed the duke, “for twenty years he served me, and

for twenty years he worried me!” “Why did you keep him, monseigneur?”

inquired a bystander. “Why, he would never have found a place if I had

turned him away,” replied the prince, and then added: “We must see now

that his wife and children are provided for.” Was it not Sophocles who

said, “Only a great soul knows how much glory there is in being kind”?

What a germ of true glory there lies buried in this quiet little trait

of Louis d’Orléans!

The death of this magnificent patron, forbearing master, and generous

father of the poor makes way for another prince of the House of Orleans

who has earned a louder but less enviable notoriety on the world-stage

of history. Almost immediately on his becoming master of the Palais

Royal, the new Duc d’Orléans had the vexation of seeing the theatre so

recently rebuilt by his father burnt down again. Discouraged, no doubt,

by this precedent, he refused to rebuild it at his own expense, and

applied to the city of Paris for the necessary funds; but that body

declined to furnish them. The _Comédie Française_ was consequently

transferred to the Porte St. Martin, where a building was erected in

the space of six weeks by Lenoir. It was not till many years later

that Richelieu’s beautiful temple to dramatic art was rebuilt by a

prince of the House of Orleans, to be henceforth hired out on lease to

enterprising managers.

We are told that in his early youth Joseph Philippe d’Orléans gave

promise of an estimable manhood. How wofully this promise was belied by

his after-life and shameful and tragic death we know. He was born at

St. Cloud in 1747, and married, in 1769, the only daughter of the Duc

de Penthièvre—a creature endowed with every charm of person and mind

to make her at once reverenced and loved. Philippe was tall, slight,

and well proportioned, his features finely cut and lit up with vivacity

and intelligence, his manners gracious and dignified. Such is the

portrait handed down to us of him in those early days before the shadow

of coming infamy had obscured the picture. He fell soon into habits of

unbridled dissipation; but, so long as he confined himself to this,

to mad charioteering pranks on the boulevards, and aerial escapades

in balloons, with boon companions as mad as himself, the people

looked on in contemptuous disapproval. It was necessary, in order to

stimulate this passive feeling to one of direct antagonism, that he

should interfere with the popular pleasure and convenience. This he

did by turning his broad and richly planted garden into a huge shop,

thus depriving the _bourgeois_ and idlers of Paris of their accustomed

resort on the sultry days and long mellow evenings of summer. His royal

highness had contrived very soon to compromise a fortune more than

royal in its extent; and, in order to replenish his coffers, he decided

to cut down his ancestral chestnuts, and build up in their place long

rows of shops, to be hired out at a high rent to tradespeople. The

fashionables and the _bourgeois_, and, more important than all in a

Frenchman’s eyes, the children, were thus driven to promenade under a

stone colonnade, instead of enjoying the green shade of Richelieu’s

groves, where the buzz of a multifarious bazaar had replaced the

cooing of doves and the twitter of singing-birds. By-and-by we see the

thermometer rising from resentful dislike to fierce hatred. Philip

is smitten with Anglomania, and spends his time and, what is of more

consequence to Paris, his money in London. He wears only London-made

coats, drives English horses, hires English grooms, altogether affects

the ways and manners of _outre-mer_, to the great disgust of Versailles

and the boulevards. Wretched Philip! well had it been for him and

for Versailles had he dwelt content in these puerile masquerades and

self-degrading follies! But under the frivolous surface there lay

a substratum of cruel vindictiveness, a bristling self-love, that

was quick to see an affront, and implacable in avenging it. Marie

Antoinette had the dire ill-luck to offend her disreputable cousin of

Orleans. When her brother, the Archduke Maximilian, came to see her

at Versailles, the queen, then in her twentieth year, very naturally

desired to see as much as possible of this dear companion of her

childhood during his short stay; so she dispensed, as far as she could,

with court ceremonial, remaining chiefly in her private apartments with

her brother. It did not probably occur to her that, in omitting to

invite the Duc d’Orléans to share this sisterly intercourse, she was

inflicting a wound that would one day distil its deadly poison upon

herself and those dearest to her. So it was, however. Philip never

forgave what he considered a slight, and bitterly did he make the

thoughtless young queen repent having inflicted it.

The gardens of the Palais Royal, which had given rise to his first

unpopularity, were destined to be the scene of the upheaving of the

revolution. All was ready, only waiting for a bold hand to give a push

to the pendulum and set it going. Camille Desmoulins did it. It was

the 12th of July, 1789. Yesterday the great crisis had been prepared,

and to-day it burst. Necker, the universal genius whose advent to the

ministry was hailed as the panacea for all discords, and difficulties,

and threatened dangers; Necker, the “Achilles of computation,” whose,

vigorous hand and capacious brain were to seize France, tottering on

the brink of some invisible gulf, and steady her; Necker, to whom

the timid, apathetic king, and the proud, valiant queen, had all but

gone on their knees to induce him to come and redeem the treasury by

“swift arithmetic,” and save the government and—yes, even at this

date they must have included it in the salvations to be accomplished

by Necker—the throne; Necker, who had yielded to the royal suppliants

with these words: “I yield in obedience to duty, but with the certainty

that I am doomed”—Necker had been dismissed. On the 11th of July,

Louis XVI. signed the letter imploring the minister to leave the

kingdom “at once and without _éclat_.” When his secretary objected that

Necker’s extraordinary popularity was a strong presumption against his

obeying this last command; that he had only to show himself, and the

people would rise _en masse_ to prevent his flight, Louis replied:

“I know Necker; he will guard us against himself; he will obey me

scrupulously, and fly without _éclat_.” And he was right. The minister

received the letter at three in the afternoon, and quietly put it in

his pocket without communicating its contents even to his wife; he

dined at the usual hour with some friends already invited; nothing in

his appearance or conversation betrayed the slightest emotion during

the repast; on leaving the table, he showed the letter of dismissal

to Mme. Necker, ordered his carriage, and they went out for a drive;

when they were about two hundred yards from the house, he pulled

the check-string, and desired the coachman to drive to the nearest

post-station. It was not till the following morning that his daughter

and his numerous friends knew of his departure. The news electrified

everybody. Camille Desmoulins’ grand opportunity had arrived. He

had already made himself notorious as a leader of malcontents; this

afternoon he was drinking with a certain set of them in a _café_ at

the Palais Royal—of late a favorite rendezvous of patriots of his

type—noisy and blustering, believing in copious libations as the

most efficacious proof of patriotism. Desmoulins, on hearing the

news, rushed out, pistol in hand, and, jumping on an orange-tree tub,

proceeded to harangue the assembled multitude. He was afflicted with a

painful stuttering in his speech, but this impediment appears to have

been no hindrance to the effect of his oratory; on the contrary, it

gave it a more vehement character, impelling him to wild and passionate

gesticulation, by way of helping out his defective utterance. He spoke

with his eyes, his teeth, every member of his body; he would shake

out his hair in lion-like fashion, stamp his feet, toss his arms with

clenched fists above his head to supply the word his tongue refused to

articulate, and the energetic pantomine elicited the sympathy, while

it fired the passions, of his hearers. “Citizens!” he cried, “I come

from Versailles.” (He came from a neighboring _café_, as we have seen,

but what of that?) “Necker is dismissed. This dismissal is the tocsin

of S. Bartholomew for all patriots. Before the sun has gone down, we

shall see the Swiss and German battalions marching from the Champs de

Mars to murder us like dogs. One chance yet remains to us. To arms!

Let us choose a cockade whereby we may know each other.” This exordium

was covered with thundering salvos by the patriots. “What color shall

we choose?” continued the orator. “Speak, patriots! Select your own

flag. Shall it be green, the emblem of hope, or blue—the color of free

America, of liberty, and democracy?” A voice from the patriots cried

out: “Green, the color of hope!” But the choice was negatived by the

voice of popular prejudice. Green, it was said, was unlucky. No; they

would not have green.

A scene of indescribable tumult followed while the momentous question

of the cockade was being canvassed. Finally, by what train of argument

history does not record, blue, white, and red were elected to the honor

of representing the patriots. They happened to be the colors of the

House of Orleans. From the tub which served as a rostrum to the orator

the decree was shouted to the serried ranks around, and all through

the gardens it was borne along the colonnade rapid as lightning,

swelling, as it went, into a deafening peal that soon reverberated

from the boulevards and the thoroughfares of Paris to Versailles. It

is said, we know not whether or not on authentic testimony, that while

this wild uproar, which terminated in the adoption of his House’s

colors by the popular party, was going on under his windows, Philip of

Orleans, henceforth to be known under the title of Egalité, was coolly

looking out at the performance, smoking his cigar, and discussing the

probable effect of it all at Versailles. By the time the whole city

was out-of-doors, it was the hour for the performance to begin in

the Palais Royal theatre, close by the scene of Camille’s rhetorical

triumph; other more interesting pieces, beginning with comedy and

ending with tragedy, were now to be performed; a band of patriots,

with Camille at their head, burst into the theatre, and, rushing on

the stage, summarily reversed the programme of the evening. They flung

tricolor cockades right and left, and called the spectators to arms.

“The audience rose _en masse_” at the appeal, like a true-born Parisian

audience, and, surging from pit and boxes, poured out impetuous and

desperate, it knew not well why, at the bidding of Camille Desmoulins.

He marched off, with the swelling stream behind him, to the studio

of the sculptor Curtius; there the patriots seized a bust of Necker

and Philip of Orleans, and carried them in procession through the

streets. This was Egalité’s official _début_, as a leader of the Red

Revolution. It was at the Palais Royal he was arrested. Here, on the

site of its first eruption, the wild demon which he had, in the measure

of his power, evoked and called up from the smouldering lava depths

to the full activity of its satanic life, and flattered and bowed

down to, was doomed at the appointed hour of retribution to raise its

bloody hand against the regicide, and strike him down. On his way to

the guillotine, the car, whether by accident or design, passed under

Egalité’s old home. He raised his eyes for a moment to the windows,

and, surveying them with an unmoved countenance, turned his glance

calmly again upon the yelling crowd.

While the Terror lasted, the Palais Royal remained untenanted. After

the Restoration it was occupied by Louis Philippe while Duke of

Orleans; when the son of Egalité called himself to the throne of his

nephew, he forsook it for the Tuileries, and during the remainder of

his reign it was open to the public as an historical monument and

museum. On the resurrection of the Empire, the Palais Royal became

the residence of Prince Jerome Bonaparte, only surviving brother of

Napoleon I. When this last venerable twig fell from the old imperial

tree, it continued in the possession of his son, Prince Napoleon.

Hither, in March, 1859, he brought his young bride, the Princess

Clothilde, daughter of Victor Emmanuel, and there he resided until the

memorable summer of 1870, when the disastrous war with Prussia came

like a cyclone, and tore up the old tree by the roots, and sent the

branches flying hither and thither over the astonished face of Europe.

The Commune closes our retrospect of Richelieu’s palace. The Tuileries

and the Palais Royal sent up their petroleum flames together to the

soft summer skies where the bright May sun was shining down, serenely

sad, upon the awful spectacle of Paris on fire—a funeral pile whereon

were consumed, let us hope never again to rise from their ashes, the

Commune itself, and the delusions of the few honest fools, if such

there were, who believed in its insane theories. Surely as they fled,

scared from their old historic haunts by the blaze and stench of the

devilish modern fluid, the ghosts of Richelieu, and Mazarin, and Anne

of Austria, and all that band of majestic figures from the unburied

past, must have laughed a bitter laugh, wherein horror was not without

a note of triumph, as they looked back upon the ghastly scene. “Our

little systems had their day,” the dead legislators may have said,

one to another, as they stood in the lurid light of the conflagration

that illuminated, to the eyes of their disembodied spirit, the

far-stretching vistas of the present and the past; “they were all

faulty, how faulty we know now with unavailing knowledge, but, compared

to this, were they not the Millennium, Eutopia, the ideal of the reign

of justice upon the earth?”

AN ABUSE OF DIPLOMATIC AUTHORITY.

THE tendency, to which we have heretofore alluded, to ostracize

Catholics, and to take it for granted that this is a Protestant

country, to be ruled exclusively by anti-Catholics, has had even a

more dangerous and far-reaching effect beyond our borders, and that,

too, apparently with official sanction. The popular prejudice has not

unnaturally reached and infected the authorities at Washington. We

do not allude especially to the present Administration or Congress,

for the evil is of long standing; but we have no hesitation in saying

that our diplomatic and consular systems as at present conducted are

unjust to a very respectable minority of the American people, and are

likely to mislead and deceive the nations with which we are on terms of

peace and amity. The foreign appointees are, almost without exception,

taken from the ranks of non-Catholics and without regard either to

the feelings of a large class of our own citizens or the wishes of

the people to whom they are sent. The ministers plenipotentiary to

the great powers of Europe have been invariably selected from the

ultra Protestant class like Motley; while the numerous consuls, with a

few honorable exceptions, have been men of the same way of thinking,

according to their limited understanding. When the Holy Father was yet

in possession of his dominions, we used to delight in sending him now

and then a specimen of a genuine Know-Nothing; and when Spain—Catholic

and conservative Spain—began to feel the Gem of the Antilles slipping

from her grasp, we despatched an atheistical _filibustero_, Soulé, to

assure her of our friendship and good-will With Catholic countries

generally we have acted in the same spirit of contradiction, as if our

object were to excite hostility rather than to perpetuate kindness and

harmony, as among them, particularly in South America, each legation

and consulate habitually formed the nucleus of anti-Catholic society.

As long as this blundering—we will not call it by a harsher name—was

confined to our European appointments, it mattered little; for the

relative condition of Catholics and the sects in this country is there

pretty well known, and, the faith of the people being well fixed,

prejudice and bigotry, even when protected by the stars and stripes,

could do little harm.

It is of the character of our representatives in Turkey, Africa, India,

China, and other places _in partibus infidelium_ that we have most

reason to complain. These American envoys and consuls seem to become

volunteer lay evangelizers; and if, like our friends of the Methodist

and Presbyterian missionary societies of this city, they do not succeed

in converting the benighted heathen from the error of their ways, they

endeavor, by the exercise of all their delegated authority, to thwart

and depreciate the labors of those who can—the Catholic missionaries

from other countries. Take, for example, India and China, the great

missionary fields of the world, containing as they do at least one-half

of the whole human race in a comparative state of civilization. The

former being a province of Great Britain, it is natural that sectarian

missions should receive at least a semi-official recognition and

protection from the appointees of the head of the Protestant Church “as

by law established”; but even in this respect the English officials

have been outdone in zeal and officiousness by our own agents in the

Indian Peninsula, as we learn from a late work on that country.[44]

But in China, with its four or five hundred millions of idolaters,

the case is different. There the Catholic priest and the devoted

Sister of Charity, unsupported by the temporal arm, and unawed by

threats, torture, and death, have been most active and most successful

in advancing the standard of the cross and winning souls to Christ.

Their converts are numbered by tens of thousands, and their churches,

schools, and orphanages dot the southern and western coasts; while the

sectarian missionaries, lacking the sustaining power of the state, have

practically done nothing. This has long been a source of much chagrin

to the various dissenting proselytizing societies in England and the

United States, as it also seems to have been the cause of exasperation

to our Minister at Peking, Mr. Frederick F. Low.

That gentleman’s mission to China appears to have embraced but three

objects, if we except his attempt and absurd failure to bring the

Coreans into communication with the outside world. The first of these

was the protection of American Protestant missionaries, and them only;

the second, to convince the Chinese officials that the United States

have nothing to do with Catholics, or, as he is pleased to style them

on all occasions, “Romanists”; and the third, to send home false

despatches and mistranslated documents.

In looking over the foreign correspondence of our government for 1871,

as presented to Congress with the President’s Message,[45] we find

that, in October, 1870, Mr. Low, without any authority whatever from

Washington, ordered a United States war-vessel from Chefoo to Tungchow,

for the sole purpose of returning some Protestant missionaries to

the latter place, who, with their usual regard for the first law of

nature, had fled from it upon the slightest rumor of danger. The

ship was the _Benecia_, and her precious cargo consisted of “the

missionaries (number not stated), their teachers and servants, also

_their children_, amounting to a total of twenty-four persons.” Of

the reverend gentlemen at whose disposal a public vessel had been so

obsequiously placed by the accommodating Mr. Low, Commander Kimberly,

in his report, bluntly says:

“The missionaries expressed themselves perfectly satisfied with

everything that had been done in regard to returning them to their

homes, and wished me to visit the shore and walk about the city with

the officers of the ship in full uniform, which I declined to do,

as, after the promises made by the Chinese officials, I considered

it unnecessary, and the Chinese being perfectly willing and pleased,

as far as I could judge, that they had returned. From my interview,

I came to the conclusion that there never existed any real danger at

Tungchow-foo, but the missionaries were frightened by the threats of

some Chinese not in authority. Mischievous persons are found in every

community, and Tungchow-foo is not free from this infliction. The

massacre of Tientsin capped the climax, and the missionaries left in

consequence.”

The cowardly conduct of the missionaries, who were thus so honorably

reconducted to their homes, is even partially admitted by the minister

in his explanatory despatch, for he says: “In this connection, I desire

to say that I have had no information from the missionaries, except a

short note from one of them saying that they had all reached Tungchow.

Without expressing any opinion as to the real peril they were in, or

whether there was or was not cause for the step they took, I am of the

opinion that their removal and the manner of their return will, on the

whole, result in good.”

We admit that it is the duty of every envoy, consul, or other foreign

agent of our government to succor and protect our citizens abroad in

all things lawful; but here, in this respect, their duty ends. They

have no shadow of right to employ the public vessels of the country,

paid for by the public at large, and destined for far other purposes,

in any other business, much less for the transportation of runaway

missionaries, “their teachers, servants, and children.” This is not

a Protestant country _de facto_ or _de jure_, and, as far as the

national government is concerned, no religion whatever is recognized.

If it were an equal number of merchants or traders who had fled in

terror from imaginary danger, is it likely that Mr. Low would have

depleted our small squadron in the Chinese seas by putting at their

service, and that of their “teachers, servants, and children,” one of

the best vessels in the fleet? Or does any one suppose that, if those

persons had been Catholic missionaries, he would have been guilty of

a similar abuse of authority? But he apologetically says, “The manner

of their return will, on the whole, result in good.” Just so. Good to

Mr. Low, though we have not yet heard of a vote of thanks having been

presented to him by any of our numerous foreign missionary societies,

or that they have sent on to Washington deputations for his retention

or promotion. That his conduct deserves such commendation from these

bodies no one can doubt who reads further his despatches to the State

Department.

In 1858, a treaty was formed between China, on the one part, and the

leading Western powers, on the other, whereby, among other things, it

was stipulated that the Christian converts in the former country should

practise their religion without molestation, and also enjoy certain

immunities; and that in the free or open ports and districts the

ministers of religion should be guaranteed the full exercise of their

functions, etc. In 1870, as previously agreed upon, this treaty came

up for revision, and France, ever foremost in the work of civilization

and conversion, proposed five amendments to the treaty, all relating

directly or indirectly to commerce. The second of these reads as

follows:

“You have expressed a desire to know the demands which I have engaged

my government to make from the Chinese government when the treaty of

1858 is revised. I have no objection to satisfy you, for I believe

that the alterations are indispensable, and I shall be happy to learn

that the other governments allied with China have decided also to

demand them.... Second, I demand that we shall have the right to place

salaried consuls wherever we judge proper, and that those cities where

consuls reside shall also be opened to foreign trade.”

These demands seemed rational enough, and have since, we understand,

been substantially complied with; but our clear-sighted minister

immediately detected the danger that lurked beneath them, particularly

the one just quoted, and hastened to advise his government not to

second the propositions of the French ambassador. Here is one of his

reasons:

“I see so many objections to such a treaty provision, and so many

chances of its proving a delusion and a snare, that, unless the

proposition can be more definitely defined, I should not be inclined

to favor it. If the exact truth could be ascertained, it would be

found, I expect, that the whole idea of the French _chargé_ in this

scheme is the better protection of the French missionaries; and were

it possible to obtain the concession asked for, these additional

consuls would be, to all intents and purposes, agents of Roman

Catholic missionaries. Their official positions and influence would be

used to sustain missionary claims and assumptions, some of which have

been described in a former despatch. So far as trade is concerned, it

may well be questioned whether the presence of French consuls in the

interior would not prove a damage instead of a benefit.”

And this is the representative of a free and commercial people who

desire to be considered Christian! Rather than see Catholic missions

extended, and paganism eradicated from the hearts of millions of

human beings, he would be willing to keep some of the most populous

and fertile portions of the Celestial Empire closed for ever against

civilization and commerce. But let us follow this model minister a

little further.

In February, 1871, the Chinese Foreign Office submitted to the foreign

representatives at the capital, for consideration and approval, the

draft of a minute, and eight rules for the guidance and government

of missionaries in the entire empire. They were drawn up with true

Tartar cunning and ingenuity, and were intended, if adopted, to baffle

the straightforward demands of France. In terms they were plausible

enough, but in reality exceedingly restrictive, and evidently aimed

at the Sisters of Charity, whose schools and orphan asylums were

rapidly increasing, and at those zealous and enterprising missionaries

who, under various disguises, and despite the vigilance of the local

authorities, are in the habit, at imminent personal danger, of

penetrating into the very heart of the country, and preaching the Word

of God where his name has never before been heard. This was a chance

for Mr. Low to exhibit his sectarian bigotry before the mandarins, and

he eagerly availed himself of it. Answering their communication in his

official capacity, and while dissenting generally from their views, he

takes occasion, we think very gratuitously, to say:

“It is a noticeable fact that, among all the cases cited, there does

not appear to be one in which Protestant missionaries are charged

with violating treaty, law, or custom. So far as I can ascertain,

your complaints are chiefly against the action and attitude of the

missionaries of the Roman Catholic faith, and, as these are under

the exclusive protection and control of the government of France, I

might with great propriety decline to discuss _a matter with which the

government of the United States has no direct interest or concern_,

for the reason that none of its citizens are charged with violating

treaty or local law, and thus causing trouble.”

And again, with equal truthfulness and appositeness, he adds:

“Whenever cases occur in which the missionaries overstep the bounds

of decorum, or interfere in matters with which they have no proper

concern, let each case be reported promptly to the minister of the

country to which it belongs. Such isolated instances should not

produce prejudice or engender hatred against those who observe their

obligations, nor should sweeping complaints be made against all on

this account. Those from the United States sincerely desire the

reformation of those whom they teach, and to do this they urge the

examination of the Holy Scriptures, wherein the great doctrines of the

present and a future state, and also the resurrection of the soul, are

set forth, with the obligation of repentance, belief in the Saviour,

and the duties of man to himself and others. It is owing, in a great

degree, to the prevalence of a belief in the truth of the Scriptures

that Western nations have attained their power and prosperity.”

Having thus, as he thought, directed the prejudice and hostility of the

authorities against the Catholics exclusively, and put in a good word

for the evangelizers; and assured them that, as far as the former were

concerned, the United States had no concern whatever, and by inference

that they might maltreat and murder as many of them as they pleased

without let or hindrance from us, Mr. Low next proceeds to mislead his

government in a manner which may be diplomatic, but is certainly far

from honorable.

In transmitting to the Department of State a translation of the rules

alluded to, he remarks:

“A careful reading of the memorandum clearly proves that the great, if

not only, cause of complaint against the missionaries comes from the

action of the Roman Catholic priests and the native Christians of that

faith; although the rules proposed for the government of missionaries

apply equally to Protestants and Catholics.”

“A careful reading” of the document as translated under his auspices

would indeed seem to bear out Mr. Low’s views, for it is filled with

complaints and denunciations of “Romanists,” and the derivative

adjective “Romish” is used with a freedom that would delight the heart

of the most virulent _colporteur_. But, unfortunately, there was

another translation of the same document in England, and in it, behold,

all the “Romanists” are turned into “Christians”![46] Even Mr. Davis,

of the State Department, could not help noticing this discrepancy

between the two papers, and in a letter dated Oct. 19, 1871, calls upon

the Peking minister for an explanation, which, of course, was never

given, for the good reason that the deception was intentional. If, as

according to Blackstone, forgery consists in the material alteration

of the body of a written instrument, as well as in the imitation or

alteration of a signature, we fear our respected representative has

been guilty of a very serious legal mistake. The assistant secretary

writes:

“Two versions of these regulations have found their way to the

Department—the translation enclosed in your No. 56, and a translation

apparently made from a French version presented to the houses of

Parliament in Great Britain in June or July last, and printed in

_British Blue-Book_, entitled “China, No. 3, 1871.” These versions

differ widely in form and expression, and, to some extent, in sense.

“The version presented to Parliament has been or will be made the

subject of instructions by her Majesty’s government to Mr. Wade.

A copy of these proposed instructions was communicated to this

Department by her Majesty’s _chargé_ at Washington in August last. A

copy is herewith enclosed, and also a copy of the version to which

they relate.

“The most material variance between the two versions is in the

designation of the missionaries against whom the Chinese Foreign

Office complains. Your version limits the complaints to missionaries

of the Roman Church. The British translation, following the French

version, represents the complaints against ‘Christians.’ For instance,

the British version renders the beginning of the first article or

rule as follows: ‘The Christians, when they found an orphanage, give

no notice to the authorities, and appear to act with mystery.’ Your

translation of the same sentence reads: “The establishment of asylums

for training up children by the Romanists has hitherto not been

reported to the authorities, and as these institutions are carefully

kept private,’ etc., etc. From the English version of the accompanying

note from the Yamên, it is evident that the Chinese Foreign Office

recognizes that there are in China Christian missionaries of different

faiths; for they say that ‘the people in general, unaware of the

difference which exists between Protestantism and Catholicism,

confound these two religions under this latter denomination.’”

The sectarian views of the minister in Peking were ably seconded by his

subordinate, the consul-general at Shanghai. That official, Mr. G. F.

Seward, under date August 22, 1871, sends to the Assistant-Secretary

of State a cursory review of the general condition of China, and

a detailed account of the horrible massacre of Tientsin, June 21,

1870; with a report of the trial and execution of some of the

miscreants engaged in it. His communication, as might be expected, is,

whenever possible, thoroughly anti-Catholic, filled with innuendos,

insinuations, and even broad statements against the missionaries of

that faith, and the Sisters of Charity; the usual elegant phrases

“Romish” and “Romanist” being used at every opportunity. As a sample of

this _commercial_ agent’s style and skill in the art of hinting a fault

and hesitating dislike, we quote the following passages from his letter:

“Various allegations have been made against Roman Catholic

missionaries. It has been alleged that the bishop of one of the

western provinces resides in a palace which vies with that of the

viceroy; that he uses a palanquin decorated in a way allowed only to

the highest officials of the empire; and that his progresses from

one part of his diocese to another are made in a regal way. It has

been asserted that the priests claim the right to correspond with the

officials on terms of equality; that they combine with and arrange

combinations among their converts to defeat the objects of the

government; that they claim for their converts various unusual and

objectionable immunities; that, in fact, they are building up a rule

within the territorial rule which is very dangerous to the state. One

who has studied the history of the Roman Church cannot be surprised

when he hears that China is seriously alarmed; but we can estimate the

actual danger more perfectly than she. Any exposition of her fears

which she is likely to make will exhibit many puerilities. Yet we must

admit that her statesmen would be unwise if they should fail to study

the problems which the presence of the church presents.”

So much for some of our diplomats in Asia. If they had been sent out

by the Methodist missionary body or any other fanatical society, they

could not have shown more narrow-minded bigotry or less regard for the

advancement of religion and true civilization; but as representatives

of this republic, where all are regarded as equal, and where the

general government is supposed to represent the interests of every

class and creed alike, it is not too much to say that they have been

sadly recreant to the trust reposed in them.

Turning over the pages of this voluminous collection of foreign

correspondence from all parts of the world with the Department of

State, we came upon the following curious despatch. It is dated Mexico,

April 29, 1871, signed by our minister, Mr. Thomas H. Nelson, and

referred to in the index as “The Spread of Protestantism”:

“The Protestant movement in Mexico has for the past year been making

considerable progress, chiefly owing to the efforts of the American

clergyman, Rev. H. Chauncey Reilly, a letter from whom upon this

subject was forwarded by me, forming an enclosure to my No. 38, of

August 9, 1869. There are now about fifty congregations or assemblies

of Mexican Protestants in this city and vicinity, and an equal or

greater number scattered throughout the country. Most of these

assemblies still meet in private houses, though in some small places

of the interior they form a numerical majority, and have, therefore,

acquired possession of the parish churches. In this city, through the

efforts and personal liberality of Mr. Reilly, the Protestants have

acquired two fine churches of those which were secularized and sold by

the government some years since; one of these is the former convent of

San Francisco, the most magnificent as well as the first one erected

in Mexico. It is now being repaired for its new use. The other is the

commodious church of San José de Garcia, which, having been thoroughly

repaired, was dedicated to the Protestant service on Sunday, the

23d instant, in the presence of an immense multitude. Two or three

Catholic priests of some prominence have, within the past two or three

months, joined the Protestant communion, and two of them have ventured

upon the decisive step of matrimony. One of the recent converts,

Father Manuel Auguas, formerly an eloquent preacher of the Dominican

Order, has become the pastor of the new church. This event has caused

a vigorous polemic in the newspapers of this city; the two papers

considered especially Catholic have been filled with attacks upon the

new religious movement, while most of the other papers have exhibited

a commendable spirit of tolerance or even of good-will toward the

Protestants. I enclose an interesting article upon this subject from

the _Two Republics_ of to-day, translated from the _Federalista_, and

written by M. Ignacio M. Altamirano, who is considered as the chief of

the Mexican literary writers of the present day. Yours, etc.”

This is the entire communication, no other subjects being touched upon;

but the matter seems of so much importance and of so great national

interest as to warrant the sapient Mr. Nelson in making it the basis

of a special official despatch. Is this gentleman the envoy of the

United States, or a commissioner appointed by some Bible or tract

society to report on the “spread of Protestantism” in the neighboring

republic, or does he unite the two characters in his own person? Does

he receive the public money for puffing the Rev. H. Chauncey Reilly,

and transmitting his diatribes and the effusions of a certain M.

Altamirano for preservation in the archives of the nation? If so, it is

time the public should know it. Mr. Nelson’s letter, however, explains

an incident that occurred in Washington a few years since. It was this:

the mission to Mexico was vacant, and it was applied for by a gentleman

every way qualified for the post. He was thoroughly educated, knew

the Spanish language well, and had served with high rank and marked

distinction during the late war. He was appointed by the President,

and his nomination by the Senate was urged by several influential

citizens, including the then Secretary of State, the late Mr. Seward.

The committee of the Senate refused to report his name favorably, and,

in reply to the query of the writer what objection could be urged

against the applicant, a leading senator replied that “he understood

him to be a very violent (meaning practical) Catholic!” The policy of

this gentleman, like that of many others at the national capital, was

not to send a Catholic to a Catholic country, but one who would report

on the “spread of Protestantism,” and doubtless, find materials for his

despatches.

Nor must we blame the government too severely for their injudicious

sectarian appointments. Its views are but the reflex of popular

opinion, and, as long as we tolerate bigotry and proscription in our

popular elections, we must expect that those who are supposed to

represent us will follow the bad example thus set them. The fault

hitherto has been partly ours, and the remedy is in our own hands. This

remedy consists in discountenancing all subsidized newspaper writers

and demagogues whose abuse and slanders prevent good men from filling

the national and state councils; in trampling under foot all party and

religious prejudices, and invariably voting against those who would

maintain them; and by supporting for offices, both at home and abroad,

only those who will attend to the public business, and let sectarian

missionaries and the “spread of Protestantism” alone.

A LEGEND OF S. MARTIN.

AFTER many strifes and battles, and after having been for years

Administrator of Thrace, Asia, and Egypt, with Dacia and Macedonia,

to which the dethroned and executed Emperor of the West, Gratian,

had appointed him, Theodosius I., the Roman emperor, returned from

Thessalonica, his former headquarters, to Constantinople.

The day was cold and stormy, and many a one of the emperor’s suite

wrapped his cloak closer around his shivering body, as the snowflakes

fell thicker and faster, covering the road quickly in the white mantle

of winter.

The troop had just entered a small village, when the emperor’s horse

was stopped by a man miserably clad and trembling with cold.

Impatient of the detention, Theodosius pressed his spurs into the sides

of his steed, and flew past the wretched beggar.

But a knight called Martin, from Pannonia, who followed next, halted

and looked pityingly upon the poor trembling form. Willingly would he

have given him money or clothing, but a soldier seldom has much to

give, and, except his hat and coat, the knight possessed nothing. One

moment only he reflected, and the next he drew forth his sword, and cut

in two the large cloak hanging over his shoulders. Handing the one half

to the beggar, and wrapping himself closely in the other, he followed

the emperor with lightning speed, without listening to the words of

blessing which fell from the lips of the mendicant.

After the sun had set, the emperor and his followers took quarters for

the night.

All had gone to rest, and Knight Martin also had laid himself down,

and soon was fast asleep. Shortly, however, he felt as if his eyes

were forced open by a most brilliant and dazzling light. He sat up,

and perceived at his feet a man upon whose head was a crown of thorns.

Shining angels surrounded him, and the mantle which Martin had given to

the beggar hung around his shoulders. Pointing to it, he asked S. Peter

(who stood by his side) in sweet and gentle voice: “Do you see this

mantle?”

“From whom did you receive it?” S. Peter questioned.

“From Martin here,” was the reply, given in a heavenly voice, his

finger pointing at the same time to the astonished soldier. “Rise, my

son,” he then continued—and his angelic smile was ravishing to the

eyes of Martin—“I have chosen thee henceforth to be my servant. Until

now thou hast been a blind heathen: thou shalt now become a shining

light in my army. Put up thy sword; thou shalt be a soldier of God.”

And then Martin knew that it was the Lord himself who spake to him.

An angel kissed the mantle’s border—and Martin awoke.

The morning broke. He rose quickly, and left the place, never resting,

never stopping, until he had reached the portal of a cloister; there he

knocked and entered.

Soon he became famous for his goodness and piety, and, as bishop,

served his Master with spiritual rather than material weapons.

NEW PUBLICATIONS.

MY CLERICAL FRIENDS, AND THEIR RELATION TO MODERN THOUGHT.

New York: The Catholic Publication Society. 1873.

We are glad to announce the publication of the American edition of this

work, our previous notice having been based upon the advance sheets of

the English edition.

The Catholic Publication Society has done good service to religion by

its handsome edition of this most important book. It is divided into

four chapters, which treat of “The Vocation of the Clergy,” “The Clergy

at Home,” “The Clergy Abroad,” and “The Clergy and Modern Thought.”

Under these divisions, the distinguished author has grouped together

a most interesting series of facts and arguments which cannot fail to

carry conviction to any honest mind. He deals principally with what may

be called the advanced clergy of the Anglican Church, shows their real

position in the present state of controversy, and the utter absurdity

of their claims. If there is anything properly called ridiculous, it

is the aspect of a small portion of a sect pretending to be that which

every one else in the world denies them to be, and flaunting their

professions to the entire denial of history, tradition, and even common

sense. Our Ritualistic friends have no regard for anything in the past,

present, or future but themselves, and, therefore, they cannot be

reasoned with. Their half-way house may be a stopping-place for a time

for honest hearts, but no sincere mind can rest there, for Almighty

God never leaves the true in mind without the assistance of his grace

or the use of their natural faculties. We commend this book to all in

the Anglican communion who desire to look facts in the face or to save

their souls. And we beg in all charity to tell them that they cannot

save their souls without sacrifice. If they prefer to keep this world,

they will lose the next. There may be in our author’s clear and bright

presentation of truth something that may seem to them harsh or severe.

We can assure them that there is no kinder heart than that of our

distinguished friend, the author; but he has such keen perceptions of

right and wrong that he cannot fail to put, with telling effect, the

absurdity of their religious position. And deny it as they may, and

perhaps will, the whole world appreciates the inconsistency of their

actions with their professions. Kind people pity them, while worldly

people laugh at them.

Beginning with the theory that the _one_ church of God can be divided,

which is a contradiction in terms, they claim to be a _branch_ of

something that confessedly can have no branches. Then, they are not

simply a branch, but a _branch of a branch_. And the branch of which

they form part renounces them, and casts them out, but they will not be

cast out. Their mother, the Church of England, does not know herself as

these her children do. Then, there is one thing they can hang on to the

last, even if everything else fails. They were admitted to apostolical

ordination by _Barlow_, whom they will have a bishop, though there is

no proof whatever that he was one, and while he himself denied the

necessity or the virtue of the sacrament of order. “If schism,” as Dr.

Newman says, “depends on the mere retention of the Episcopal order,

there never was and there never will be a schism,” for bishops are

as likely to be corrupted as priests. But the truth is, nobody ever

pretended to any apostolical succession in the English Church until the

Dissenters became so strong that, out of opposition to them, “a few

Anglican prelates began to talk of pretensions which, during several

generations, they had treated as a jest and a fable.” “According to

Barlow, an English bishop could dispense with orders; and, according

to Cranmer, with grace.” There was no pretence of any doctrine of

priesthood on the part of the _founders_ of the Church of England, and

surely these intelligent men ought to have known what they intended to

do. Hooker is one of their greatest defenders, and he expressly denies

the necessity of Episcopal ordination. “Being about to appear before

God, he sent—not for an Anglican minister—but for his friend Saravia,

and accepted from his unconsecrated hands those quasi-sacramental rites

which, according to Ritualistic views, he had no power to dispense.”

These divines were the faithful interpreters of the mind of their

church.

“‘It is quite clear,’ observes Bishop Tomline, expounding the 25th

Article, ‘that the words of the Article do not maintain the necessity

of episcopal ordination.’ Bishop Hall, again, though he wrote a

well-known book in defence of episcopacy, gave up the whole question

when he said: ‘Blessed be God, _there is no difference_, in any

essential matter, betwixt the Church of England and _her sisters of

the Reformation_.’ And this was the language even of men who had

written the most earnest apologies for episcopal government. They

never attempted to maintain that the apostolical succession was

necessary to the integrity of a church. Thus Bramhall said, with

easy composure: ‘The ordination of our first Protestant bishops was

_legal_,’ _i.e._ it had the royal sanction; ‘and for the _validity_ of

it, we crave no man’s favor.’ Andrewes is a more important witness.

Though Ritualists may not approve his subservience to that robust

theologian, James I., he is still held in honor among them as almost

a High-Church prelate, and is regarded as the most imposing figure of

his time. Yet Andrewes, on their own principles, was as flagrant a

betrayer of the doctrine of the Christian priesthood, if he ever held

it, as Hooker himself, or even as Barlow or Whittaker. He not only

gave the Anglican sacrament to a Swiss Protestant, Isaac Casaubon, but

related afterwards, with impassioned and approving eloquence, that his

friend died loudly professing with his latest breath the strictest

tenets of the Calvinists of Geneva.”

There are many other points that will attract the attention of the

reader, and which we cannot speak of in this short notice. The last

chapter, upon “The Clergy and Modern Thought,” is particularly adapted

to the superficial age in which we live, and answers all the objections

which are made by the really shallow thinkers who, according to the

language of the apostle, “professing themselves to be wise, have become

fools.”

We bespeak for this most interesting and instructive book a large

circulation and many attentive readers, who will unite with us in

thanking the accomplished author for the pleasure and profit they have

received from him. May God grant him yet many years to live in which to

do good with his able pen!

The following letter of the author, correcting a mistake into which he

had fallen, appeared in the London _Tablet_ of February 8:

“MR. LECKY AND ‘MY CLERICAL FRIENDS.”

“_To the Editor of the Tablet_:

“SIR: I am assured by friends of Mr. Lecky, the well-known

author of the histories of _Rationalism in Europe_ and of _European

Morals_, that I have misunderstood a passage in the latter work, and

attributed to the distinguished writer sentiments which he disavows.

Mr. Lecky has displayed in his remarkable writings such unusual

candor, and even, in spite of much that is painful to a Christian,

such elevation of thought, that to do him wilful injustice is a fault

of which no Catholic ought to be capable. I ask your permission,

therefore, to make the following explanation.

“The passage which I am said to have misunderstood is this: ‘Had the

Irish peasants been less chaste, they would have been more prosperous.

Had that fearful famine, which in the present century desolated

the land, fallen upon a people who thought more of accumulating

subsistence than of avoiding sin, multitudes might now be living who

perished by literal starvation.’ Interpreting these words by the

light of other statements of the same author, and especially by his

announcement that ‘_utility_ is perhaps the highest motive to which

reason can attain,’ they seemed to me, as they seemed to all whom I

have been able to consult, to bear only one meaning. I was mistaken.

They really meant, I now learn, ‘that the habit of early marriages in

a nation is detrimental to its economical prosperity.’ I am further

reminded that Mr. Lecky has written admirably on the grace of chastity

which adorns the Irish nation, and could not, therefore, have wished

to say that sin is a less evil than famine and destitution.

“I am too familiar with the writings of Mr. Lecky, which I have read

more than once, and always with extreme interest, not to recognize his

great moral superiority over the contemporary school of Rationalists.

The study of his books has even created in me a strong personal

sympathy for the writer. In quoting him frequently, I think I have

manifested this feeling. But if I have done him injustice in the case

referred to, I regret that he did not more carefully guard himself

from a misapprehension which was purely involuntary, and into which

others fell who share my admiration of his candor and ability. I have

only to add that, if the opportunity should occur, I will suppress the

passage to which Mr. Lecky’s friends have called my attention. Yours

faithfully,

“THE AUTHOR OF ‘MY CLERICAL FRIENDS.’”

SERMONS ON ECCLESIASTICAL SUBJECTS. By Henry Edward,

Archbishop of Westminster. American Edition. Vol. II. New York: The

Catholic Publication Society. 1873.

This dauntless champion of the faith is once more in the field. In

the present volume, the great Archbishop of England presents himself

in that which is his special character and vocation, to wit, as the

defender of the rights and doctrines maintained and promulgated by

Pius IX. in the face of his enemies and of some timid or misguided

persons among his friends. The sermons are not all new ones, since they

range in time from 1866 to 1872; but as now collected they make a new

whole out of previously separate parts belonging to one great theme,

the rights of the Holy See and the church as opposed to the nefarious

system of modern liberalism. The masterpiece of the volume is, however,

the Introduction, a most able and eloquent analysis and confutation

of the principles of the revolutionary party in Europe which aims at

the overthrow of the Catholic Church and of the Christian religion.

Archbishop Manning has done immense service to religion, and his power

seems to have been continually and steadily increasing since he first

entered the lists as a champion of the true church. Before the Council

of the Vatican, he was one of those who contributed most efficaciously

to the preparation of the greatest event of this age, the definition

of the dogma of Papal Infallibility, by which Gallicanism, the mother

error of that brood of false doctrines condemned in the Syllabus of

1864, was destroyed. During and since the Council he has combated these

errors with equal ability and courage, and seconded the great Pope, who

now fills the place of Christ on the earth, by re-echoing the divine

harmonies of his doctrine through the English-speaking world. It is

most important that all our educated laity should be thoroughly imbued

with this pure and saving doctrine, in which alone is contained, not

only the salvation of the soul, but of sound science, of nations, of

society, and of all human interests. We know of no such thorough and

perfect interpreter of Pius IX., the infallible teacher of the nations,

in the English language, as the Archbishop of Westminster. His writings

are those which ought especially to be circulated and read among the

educated laity, as the exposition of that truth which is the special

antidote to the fatal errors of the times. They are especially suitable

for this purpose, because they are the writings of a bishop; and it

is to the priests of the church, and especially to the chief priests

and pastors, to whom is committed the office not only of teaching the

faithful personally, but of giving to the writings of the subordinate

clergy and of learned laymen the only canonical sanction which they

possess, that the laity are to look for instruction in sound doctrine

under the supreme authority of the Holy See. The private opinions of

a bishop have, indeed, no more weight than is given them by their

argumentative value. This is always very great in the writings of

Archbishop Manning, who is accustomed to sustain his positions by a

very great force of evidence and reasoning. But a still greater merit

of his writings is found in the fact, that he never obtrudes his

private opinions as Catholic doctrine, or goes beyond the mark placed

by the authority of the church or the common teaching of approved

theologians. Not only does he avoid extenuating, but he equally

avoids exaggerating statements respecting Catholic doctrine. And,

moreover, although of uncompromising strictness in his orthodoxy, and

apostolic severity in his language respecting contumacious heretics

and rebels against divine authority, he is considerate and gentle

towards those whose errors may, in charity, be regarded as excusable.

In this respect, his writings are a model for those who undertake the

advocacy of the great Catholic truths which are opposed to the errors

of the day. May God preserve the worthy successor of the great English

cardinal to see the triumph of the church in the land of S. Edward and

S. Thomas of Canterbury!

LENTEN THOUGHTS: Drawn from the Gospel for Each Day of Lent.

By the Bishop of Northampton. New York: The Catholic Publication

Society. 1873.

We recommend this little book to all who wish to spend the season of

Lent in conformity with the spirit and intention of the church. The

style is simple and chaste; the thoughts are elevated and suggestive.

There is, too, an air of serenity and even cheerfulness about the book

which we cannot but consider as in perfect accord with the true nature

of penance as understood by the church:

“Chords that vibrate sweetest pleasure

Thrill the deepest notes of woe.”

“When you fast, be not as the hypocrites, sad,” says the church to her

children on Ash-Wednesday, re-echoing through the ages the words of her

divine Spouse.

MEDITATIONS FOR THE USE OF THE CLERGY, for Every Day in the

Year, on the Gospels for the Sundays. From the Italian of Mgr. Scotti,

Archbishop of Thessalonica. Revised and Edited by the Oblates of S.

Charles. With a Preface by His Grace the Archbishop of Westminster.

Vol. I. From the First Sunday in Advent to the Sixth Saturday after

the Epiphany. London: Burns & Oates. 1872. (New York: Sold by The

Catholic Publication Society.)

The remaining three volumes of this work, we are told, may be looked

for in the course of the present year. The whole will form a manual of

meditations for priests to which we have seen nothing comparable. That

such a work is needed who will deny? For if any one ought to meditate,

it is a priest; and how few books of meditation in our language are

at all what he wants! Of the present compilation, then, his grace the

Archbishop of Westminster, in his prefatorial letter to his clergy,

says: “In dedicating to you this first part of Scotti’s _Meditations

for the Clergy_, I need only add that it is a book held in high esteem

at Rome. Having found by the experience of many years its singular

excellence, its practical piety, its abundance of Scripture, of the

fathers, and of ecclesiastical writers, I have thought that it would be

an acceptable and valuable addition to your books of devotion.”

After this recommendation, let us simply express a wish that the work

may become known to every priest who speaks the English language.

And again let us thank the good Oblate Fathers for one of the most

estimable services they have ever done for religion.

S. ANSELM’S BOOK OF MEDITATIONS AND PRAYERS. Translated

from the Latin by M. R. With a Preface by His Grace the Archbishop

of Westminster. London: Burns & Oates. 1872. (New York: Sold by The

Catholic Publication Society.)

These meditations differ very much from ordinary compositions with

that name. They are divided into brief sections, a single one of which

will suffice the devout soul for a whole day’s food. There is nothing

stiff and formal, nothing meagre, nothing dry. While, together with

honeyed colloquies—now with ourself, now with God or the saints—there

is a deep philosophy in a very simple guise. We are, therefore, most

grateful for such an addition to our devotional literature.

THE ‘OLD CATHOLICS’ AT COLOGNE. New York: J. A. McGee. 1873

This clever _jeu d’esprit_ is by the brother of Dr. T. W. M. Marshall,

who was one of the joint authors of the _Comedy of Convocation_. It is

a little coarse in some parts, too much so for our taste, and in this

respect inferior to the famous _Comedy_, which was unexceptionable

in that respect. Nevertheless, it has a great likeness in some of

its salient points to that remarkable piece of logical sarcasm. The

argument is unanswerable, and very cleverly put; and terrible as the

ridicule is which is heaped on the Janus clique, whose final fiasco

was made at Cologne, they deserve it richly; for never was there a more

absurd as well as detestable little generation of vipers among the

whole of the noxious brood of heretics who in various ages have hissed

against the decrees of the Œcumenical Councils. We can assure all

readers that they will be amused and instructed by this brochure.

SŒUR EUGÉNIE: The Life and Letters of a Sister of Charity.

Baltimore: J. Murphy & Co. 1873.

The subject of this memoir was a French lady of rank, brought up a

Protestant, but converted in early life to the Catholic faith. It is

an interesting, edifying, and well-written, as well as beautifully

printed, little book, not at all commonplace, but with the freshness of

unusual incidents told in the charming style which belongs to modern

English literature of the best class.

There is something very attractive in the French character when

unperverted by scepticism and frivolity. The energy, zeal, and

enthusiasm they throw into their work for God are very captivating to

colder natures. And the higher one ascends in the social scale, the

more decided, apparently, do these traits become. Whereas, in other

nationalities, prosperity and position frequently have a deleterious

effect; they often bring a Frenchman’s better qualities into higher

relief. In the religious orders, many illustrious examples of this

remark may be found—of men brought up in ease and affluence who have

adopted the mortified life of missionaries, braved every danger, and

courted death itself, if thereby they could win some souls for Christ.

The French nuns and Sisters of Charity have also been preeminent, as

the unwritten history of the late war alone would demonstrate. The

charitable spirit which lies at the foundation of that suavity and

grace too often characterized as surface politeness, peculiarly fits

them for the delicate and trying duties they assume.

In the subject of this memoir we recognize the same winning

characteristics to which we have adverted. Of high birth, she left all

which usually attracts youthful ambition for a life of self-abnegation

and charity. The name Eugénie, already endeared to thoughtful readers

through the _Letters_ and _Journal of Mlle. de Guérin_ (for we learn

to appreciate a character full as much through the productions of the

subject as by the portrayal of others), will receive new lustre from

the memoirs of another saintly wearer. Such a record, though simple, is

full of beauty and edification to those who follow in the same path, as

well as those whose sphere of duty, though lying in the world, is yet

elevated above it.

TRUTH AND ERROR. By the Rev. H. A. Brann, D.D. New York: D. &

J. Sadlier & Co. 1873.

This book is of small size, but on an important subject, viz., the

nature and sources of certitude. It is clear, logical, sound, and

written in a good style. As an antidote to the wretched, poisonous

trash sold under the name of philosophy, which is nothing but

methodical scepticism and materialism, this little book must do

good if it is read and understood by those who have need of it. The

unhappy intellectual vagrants of our day are afflicted with the two

great miseries which poor “Jo” complained of: “Not knowing nothink,

and starwation.” Jo often sadly muttered to himself, “I don’t know

_nothink_!” Mr. Bain and all that set are so many Joes, repeating for

ever, “I don’t know nothink, you don’t know nothink, nobody don’t and

nobody can’t know nothink.” The sophist of Königsberg was a Jo of

genius, nothing more. Dr. Brann will give a substantial breakfast to

any one of these hungry Joes who will read his book.

AUNT JO’S SCRAP-BOOK. Vol. II. Shawl-Straps. By Louisa M.

Alcott, author of _Little Women_, _An Old-fashioned Girl_, _Little

Men_, _Hospital Sketches_. Boston: Roberts Brothers. 1872.

This book is written in a light, trifling, flippant style, which may be

very pleasant and appropriate when used to describe certain things, but

when applied indiscriminately to all that one sees abroad, it certainly

is not agreeable, to say the least of it. Neither is it pleasant, in

a book of travels, to find that nothing is considered true, or even

worthy of respect, unless the _author_ believes in it. A Mass at S.

Mark’s, Venice, is described in this way: “The patriarch was a fat

old soul in red silk, even to his shoes and holy pocket-handkerchief;

and the service appeared to consist in six purple priests dressing

and undressing him like an old doll, while a dozen white-gowned boys

droned up in a gold cockloft, and many beggars whined on the floor

below.” A visit to the Carthusian Convent, Pavia, calls forth the

following comment: “A nice way for lazy men to spend their lives, when

there is so much work to be done for the Lord and his poor! Wanted

to shake them all round,” etc. In the description of the inundation

of parts of the city of Rome we read: “Livy indulged the sinful hope

that the pope would get his pontifical petticoats very wet, be a

little drowned and terribly scared by the flood, because he spoiled

the Christmas festivities,” etc. Victor Emmanuel is spoken of as “the

honest man,” with the remark that “that is high praise for a king.”

Such expressions as “sullen old gentleman in the Vatican,” “silly

Madonna,” and others of the same character, enliven the pages in

various places.

We can scarcely believe that this book is from the same pen as _Little

Women_, and we think it would be far better, when one is only willing

to see things through their ignorance and prejudices, not to attempt to

make others see with their eyes.

GOD OUR FATHER. By a Father of the Society of Jesus, author

of _The Happiness of Heaven_. Baltimore: John Murphy & Co. 1873.

After reading this little book, we felt an ardent desire to tell

everybody we had found a treasure. Its title, a rather unusual thing

nowadays, is the true exponent of its contents. That God is our

Father—our kind, indulgent, beneficent, merciful, loving Father—it

proves as we have never seen proved before. We do think, if Voltaire

had seen this little treatise, he would not have called God a “tyrant

and the father of tyrants,” and he, Voltaire, would not have been a

fool and the father of a generation of fools. Some Christians other

than Calvinists are accustomed to regard God as a stern judge or an

exacting master, ignoring altogether his parental relationship. This

way of regarding God not unfrequently produces a morbid spirituality,

if not worse. Under its baneful influence, the soul is parched up and

rendered incapable of any other sentiment than that of fear. It is true

that “fear is the beginning of wisdom”; but it is no less true that

“love is the fulfilment of the law” and the sublime summary of the new

dispensation. And who can love a being whom he sees only in the light

of a stern judge, an exacting master? God, as he is represented in this

work, is a being whom you cannot but love. In very truth, the author

himself must love much, or he could never write so eloquently of divine

love.

To all Catholics who look with a filial confidence to God, and love him

as their Father, we recommend this book as a means of strengthening

their confidence and increasing their love. To those Catholics,

happily few, who see in God only a rigid master, we prescribe the

perusal of this work as the best remedy for their dangerous disease.

To our separated brethren, who want to get a Christian idea of our

common Father, we would respectfully suggest the careful study of this

treatise; they will find it sufficiently scriptural and sufficiently

simple for their tastes.

We cannot, perhaps, pay the publishers a higher compliment than by

saying that the setting is in every way worthy of the gem.

LECTURES ON THE PRINCIPAL DOCTRINES AND PRACTICES OF THE CATHOLIC

CHURCH. By Cardinal Wiseman. New York: P. O’Shea.

These two volumes belong to the uniform series of Cardinal Wiseman’s

works now being issued by Mr. O’Shea, and, as we understand, are

printed from the same plates as the one-volume edition heretofore

issued by Kelly, Piet & Co.

It is a strong evidence of the permanent interest which attaches

to Catholic doctrine—the faith ever ancient, ever new—that these

lectures are read now with almost equal avidity with that which greeted

their appearance almost forty years ago, while as many weeks suffice to

lay on the shelf the productions of many a popular preacher of the day.

This course constituted the _Lent_ at S. Mary’s, Moorfields, in 1836,

when the Oxford movement had already acquired considerable headway, and

the public mind was alive to the subjects discussed. In view of the

audience which he addressed, they were doubtless prepared with great

care, and may therefore be considered most favorable specimens of the

distinguished author’s style.

One is struck, in looking over Cardinal Wiseman’s works, by the fact of

the singular diversity of his gifts, and his preeminence in the varied

fields of research and discussion—as if he had made each a specialty.

His _Lectures on the Connection of Science and Religion_, delivered the

preceding year, has maintained a position in the front rank of works

devoted to that subject, and may be said to have become obsolete only

in so far as science has presented new phenomena and discoveries for

elucidation; while the present work has remained, to our thinking,

the most exhaustive popular exposition of Catholic doctrine in the

language. His more elaborate historical and critical essays have

attracted marked attention, and been thought worthy of publication in

separate volumes, while his distinctively belles-lettres works have

enjoyed almost universal favor. His _Fabiola_ confessedly stands at the

head of Christian fiction. It is a little remarkable that _The Hidden

Gem_, and one of the most acute critiques of the day upon Shakespeare,

should have been the production of one who it is fair to infer scarcely

ever-witnessed an acted drama.

The same house has brought out in similar style the _Four Lectures on

the Offices and Ceremonies of Holy Week_ by the same author, which we

hope will prove a valuable aid to the intelligent participation in

the devotions of the present season. The interest in the Lectures is

enhanced by the fact that they were delivered at Rome, and relate to

the ceremonies in the Papal chapels.

* * * * *

The Catholic Publication Society will publish in a few days, from

advance sheets, a new work by the author of _My Clerical Friends_,

entitled _Church Defence: Report on the Present Dangers of the Church_.

AN ERROR RECTIFIED.

_Card of the Editor of The Catholic World._

AN error in respect to a matter of Catholic faith into which the

author of an article in our last number inadvertently fell, and which

escaped my notice until it was too late to make any earlier correction,

requires me to make the present explanation. I do it for the sake of

the reverend gentleman who first animadverted upon this erroneous

statement, and for others at a distance who are not in a position to

know personally the utter impossibility of any statement bordering on

“Gallicanism” being admitted into THE CATHOLIC WORLD with the

knowledge of the editor. The passage in question is as follows, and is

found on p. 784: “Who can wonder if the Church, in this dire emergency,

_delegates to one man_ the power she can no longer collectively

exercise in peace?” The mistake of the writer, who is a lay Catholic

and not a theologian, is very excusable. The responsibility for the

doctrine of the articles published rests exclusively with me, as the

editor in the absence of the Very Rev. F. Hecker. If any statement

which is contrary to Catholic doctrine or sound theology is allowed

to pass in any article, it is by accident, and any reverend gentleman

or layman who notices anything of the kind will oblige me by sending

a communication to me directly, pointing out the error. Any such

communication will receive due attention from myself or from the

editor-in-chief, when he is in town and able to attend personally to

the duties of his office. In this connection, I take occasion to remark

that another worthy clergyman, entirely unknown to me, who has recently

expressed himself as aggrieved by the remarks of THE CATHOLIC

WORLD upon Italy, has wholly misapprehended their intention.

The articles on this subject which have appeared have been generally

written by myself, or prepared under my direction. I have no hostility

except against the wicked party which tyrannizes over the Catholic

people of Italy, and would with pleasure have admitted the letter of

the Italian missionary, pleading the cause of his country, to the

columns of THE CATHOLIC WORLD. It is the aim of the editors

of THE CATHOLIC WORLD to make it Catholic in its spirit and

tone of charity and courtesy, as well as orthodox in doctrine, and

to remember that it becomes those who profess a special loyalty to

the Holy Father to pay attention to _all_ his admonitions, especially

to that one in which he gave such an emphatic warning against the

violation of charity by those who are very zealous for his authority.

AUGUSTINE F. HEWIT, C.S.P.

THE

CATHOLIC WORLD.

VOL. XVII., No. 98.—MAY, 1873.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by Rev.

I. T. HECKER, in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at

Washington, D. C.

THE EVOLUTION OF LIFE.[47]

THE question of the origin of species—the question, namely, whether

the vegetable and animal species now on the earth, and those which from

the study of its strata we know to be extinct, were in the beginning

called into existence by the direct creative _fiat_, and substantially

with the forms they now have; or whether they have been developed

from other and pre-existing beings with forms essentially different

from their own, in obedience to natural law—is one upon which, since

Charles Darwin published the first edition of his book upon the

subject, now about twelve years ago, much has been said. We may add

that the answer given to it by Mr. Darwin has been much misunderstood.

It has been misunderstood in _itself_ by those who would not take the

trouble to inquire in what its precise merits consisted: how much of

certainty, and how much of mere theory, it contained; what facts or

series of facts, if admitted, it was incompetent to throw light upon;

and whether there were any facts, botanical or zoological, in conflict

and irreconcilable with it. It has been misunderstood, too, _in its

bearings on revelation_, and that by two classes of men: on the one

hand, by mere scientists, for the reason that they knew nothing of

theology, and were therefore not in a way to decide whether the Bible

and the theory of development are compatible with each other; and,

on the other, by well-intentioned advocates of Christianity, because

frequently they knew nothing of science in general—little of this

question, and the precise meaning and worth of Darwin’s answer to

it in particular. The former have been at fault in asserting that a

science—theology, Catholic theology, we mean, is a science—of which

they knew nothing did not harmonize with a hypothesis of which they

knew perhaps all that is to be known; the latter, in not acknowledging

distinctly the grain of truth or of certainty contained in the

speculations of Darwin.

The question is an interesting one, and has accordingly called forth

a large literature in England, Germany, France, and Italy. Mr.

Chapman’s book is, we believe, the only one written in this country,

and professedly devoted to the advocacy of the theory that, to use the

author’s own words, “the development of the higher forms of life from

the lower has been brought about by natural selection, and that man has

descended from a lower extinct form of which the gorilla and chimpanzee

are the nearest living representatives”—which is Darwinism pure and

simple, and which ought to be distinguished from the more general

theory of “evolution.” That Mr. Chapman’s book has been published in

America, and that we wish to say a few words on the question which it

treats, and especially on the bearings of that question on revealed

religion, constitute its only claims on our attention; for neither the

style of the writer nor the lucidity of his argument, much less its

originality, entitles it to any particular notice. The work is a mere

compilation, which, however, may be of service to those who desire to

possess in a convenient shape the facts, and to examine the nature of

the reasoning, by which the Darwinian hypothesis is supported.

When we have said this, and that Mr. Chapman devotes a chapter of

his book to the argument from zoology, geology, embryology, etc.,

respectively, in favor of Darwinism; that these arguments are neither

as elegant, scholarly, or cogent as they might be made; that he has

followed the materialists of Germany in their version of the theory,

and further than there is even the shadow of a warrant to follow it, we

have said all that we wish to say about his book, and bestowed upon it

the highest praise it is in our power to bestow consistently with truth.

What our views on the Darwinian theory are will appear in the sequel.

Here we wish simply to say a few words on certain doctrines drawn

from it by Mr. Chapman, or, if not drawn from it, associated with it

both by him and others—doctrines which, in our view, are not part

and parcel of it because mere assumptions in no way countenanced by

facts. Thus, Mr. Chapman desires us expressly to understand that

“natural selection,” the meaning of which we will explain in a

moment, does not imply the existence of a “natural selector”; and

this, without any forced interpretation, may be construed into a

profession of atheism. Now, as we will see a little further on, the

admission of the Darwinian theory does not necessarily lead to any

such conclusion. Again, he informs us, p. 14, that life is only a

“physical phenomenon, and that the nervous system produces ideas and

all the acts of intelligence”—which is rank materialism. That Mr.

Chapman advocates fatalism is no less plain, for he assures us that

morality is necessarily progressive. On the last page of his book, he

defines morals to be “duty to one’s self.” We confess that we do not

understand how he reconciles his assertion that morality is necessarily

progressive with his definition of morals. It seems to us that, if

necessarily moral, men will necessarily do their duty; or rather,

they will have no duty to do, since necessity and duty exclude each

other. According to this theory, there can be no distinction between

good and evil, and all the crimes that are committed are the necessary

consequences of man’s origin. Indeed, the author tells us, p. 180:

“Crimes and outrages are committed even among the most civilized,

simply, in the words of Mr. Spencer, because man ‘partially retains the

characteristics that adapted him for an antecedent state. The respects

in which he is not fitted to society are the respects in which he is

fitted for his original predatory life. His primitive circumstances

required that he should sacrifice the welfare of other beings to his

own; his present circumstances require that he should not do so; and in

as far as his old attribute still clings to him, in so far he is unfit

for the social state. All sins of men against each other, from the

cannibalism of the Carib to the crimes and venalities we see around us,

have their causes comprehended under this generalization.’”

Now, if all this be so, we cannot see why murder, or robbery, or any

other crime, is not perfectly legitimate. If to the exercise of his

“old attributes” in the struggle for existence man owes his “survival”

and his place among the fittest, in any degree, however small; and

if there be nothing in man not produced by natural selection, we

cannot see why he should not even now continue the exercise of these

“attributes”; in other words, we do not see why any propensity,

passion, or inclination originated by the agency of “natural

selection,” to the exclusion of all other agencies, cannot legitimately

be exercised to the full extent to which “natural selection” has

developed it. If man exercises these “attributes” simply in obedience

to a law of nature, we should not if we could, nor could we if we

would, resist them. If, indeed, these views of morality be correct,

then might is right, the Decalogue a code against nature, civilization

an abnormal condition for man, and barbarism his only true state.

So much for the atheism, materialism, and fatalism, we do not say of

Darwin—for we have reason to believe that that gentleman himself is

none of these—but of Mr. Chapman’s version of evolution. There is

one very important point, however, on which Mr. Darwin, the man of

science, and the compiler, Mr. Chapman, are at one—a point of very

great consideration because of its bearings on revelation—the doctrine

that the difference between man and the lower animals is not one of

“kind,” but of “degree.” We do not wish to argue this point here in

full. What we wish to say is that men of the school of Darwin, etc.,

should be the very last persons in the world to make an assertion of

this character, for the reason that they confine our knowledge to

appearances, to phenomena. The question, however, whether man and the

lower animals differ in “kind” or only in “degree” is not a question of

phenomena or appearances: it is a question of _noumena_, of essence, of

reality. We do not grant that even appearances warrant the assertion

that man differs from the lower animals in nothing essential. There

are appearances which forbid any such conclusion. But we maintain

that, whether they so differ or not, Darwin and his school are, by the

principles of their philosophy, estopped from asserting that they do or

do not. They cannot say that the same phenomena imply the same noumena,

the same accidents, the same essence, the same appearances, the same

reality, because, to assert the identity of nature of two things, both

must be known in what constitutes their essence, whereas these men

expressly say that of noumena, reality, or essence nothing can be known.

Mr. Chapman is more a disciple of Haeckel than of Darwin, and follows

that gentleman in all his vagaries—a course well calculated to

increase rather than decrease the amount of prejudice against what

there may be of truth in Darwinism. Among the advocates of this, as of

almost all theories, there are extremists. Our author seems to have

gone to school to all of them, and swallowed all they told him, no

matter how paradoxical, no matter how little proof to substantiate it.

On the other hand, of all that has been said against pure Darwinism,

not a word has been recorded by Mr. Chapman; and of those who, like

Prof. Agassiz, do not agree with Mr. Darwin, or who, like St. George

Mivart, have, as we think, dealt his theory blows from which it will

not recover, he does not make the smallest mention. Yet it cannot be

that Agassiz and Mivart are too small to be noticed by Mr. Chapman.

Agassiz is too venerable a name in science to need any demonstration

that his opinion on scientific matters is entitled to consideration.

Mivart is, we take it, a younger man; yet, if he has not made himself

an abiding reputation by what he has the modesty to call his “little

book,” the _Genesis of Species_, he has made a name which must live, if

Darwin’s, and Lyell’s, and Huxley’s do; since all these men have found

in him a foe worthy of their steel—and the latter of the vials of his

wrath.

We would not consider this article complete without a condensed history

of the controversy between Mr. Huxley and Mr. Mivart, occasioned by

the publication by the latter of his admirable work, the _Genesis of

Species_. We give it here for this, as well as for the reason that it

will serve as the best general answer it is in our power to give to Mr.

Chapman and other writers of his character.

But first a few remarks on Darwin’s theory. It is only a theory, a mere

hypothesis. Mr. Darwin does not pretend to have proved it himself; nor

does his advocate, Mr. Huxley, who seems to have taken Mr. Darwin and

the Darwinian theory under his special protection, pretend that it is

proved.

Bearing in mind that the Darwinian theory is only a hypothesis, we must

estimate its value as we estimate that of other hypotheses, viz., by

its ability to account for all the facts of which it pretends to be the

solution.

The Copernican system of astronomy, for instance, is only a hypothesis;

yet, as there is no known astronomical fact absolutely contradictory

to it, we accept it as true. If there were only one fact which it did

not explain and could not explain; above all, if there were one fact

at variance with the hypothesis, the hypothesis must give way, and the

fact stand; for one fact is worth a thousand hypotheses, and one fact

in cases of this kind, as Mr. Huxley says, as good as five hundred.

Are there, then, any facts which the Darwinian theory of development by

natural selection should explain and does not? Mr. Huxley himself says

there is one set of such facts—the facts of hybridism; and, as we will

presently see, there are a great many others.

To St. George Mivart, a scientist, but more than a scientist, a

philosopher in a degree, somewhat of a theologian as well, and

therefore a man of greater intellectual grasp than either Darwin or

Huxley, we are indebted for the fullest presentation of the facts

inexplicable by natural selection that has yet been given to the

reading world. This that gentleman has done in his book before referred

to, _The Genesis of Species_.

One of Mr. Mivart’s great merits is that he accords to Mr. Darwin’s

theory its full meed of praise. He is a scientific man, and as such

a good judge of its merits and demerits, therefore competent to

acknowledge the one and point out the other.

We are not at all prejudiced against Mr. Darwin or his theory. We agree

entirely with Mr. Mivart that it “is perhaps the most interesting

theory, in relation to natural science, which has been promulgated

during the present century.” Before pointing out, however, why it is

the most interesting theory of the kind, let us see in brief what the

Darwinian theory of natural selection is.

In the words of Mr. Mivart it may be stated thus:

1. “Every kind of animal and plant tends to increase in numbers in a

geometrical proportion.

2. “Every kind of animal and plant transmits a general likeness with

individual differences to its offspring.

3. “Every individual may present minute variations of any kind in any

direction.

4. “Past time has been practically infinite.

5. “Every individual has to endure a very severe struggle for

existence, owing to the tendency to geometrical increase of all kinds

of animals and plants, while the total animal and vegetable population

(man and his agency excepted) remains almost stationary.

6. “Thus, every variation of a kind tending to save the life of the

individual possessing it, or to enable it more surely to propagate

its kind, will in the long run be preserved, and will transmit its

favorable peculiarity to some of its offspring, which peculiarity will

thus become intensified till it reaches the maximum degree of utility.

On the other hand, individuals presenting unfavorable peculiarities

will be ruthlessly destroyed. The action of this law of ‘natural

selection’ may thus be well represented by the convenient expression,

‘survival of the fittest.’”

Now as to the series of facts which this theory throws light upon. Here

they are as enumerated by Mr. Mivart. It explains:

1. Some singular facts “relating to the geographical distribution of

animals and plants; as, for example, on the resemblance between the

past and present inhabitants of different parts of the earth’s surface.

2. “That often, in adjacent islands, we find animals closely resembling

and appearing to represent each other; while, if certain of these

islands show signs of more ancient separation, the animals inhabiting

them exhibit a corresponding divergence.

3. That “‘rudimentary structures’ also receive an explanation by means

of this theory.

4. “That the singular facts of ‘homology’ are capable of a similar

explanation.”

5. That “that remarkable series of changes which animals undergo before

they attain their adult condition, which is called their process of

development, and during which they more or less closely resemble other

animals during the early stages of the same process, has also great

light thrown on it from the same source.”

6. That “by this theory, and as yet by this alone, can any explanation

be given of that extraordinary phenomenon which is metaphorically

termed ‘mimicry.’”

To explain in detail the exact import of each of these heads would

carry us beyond the limits of a magazine article; and the reader who

wishes for more minute and definite information on them we must refer

to Mivart’s own book, or to Darwin’s _Origin of Species_.

Pass we now to those facts which Darwin’s theory is incompetent to

explain, and to the arguments against it. Mr. Mivart enumerates them

thus:

1. “That ‘natural’ selection is incompetent to account for the

incipient stages of useful structures.

2. “That it does not harmonize with the coexistence of closely similar

structures of diverse origin.

3. “That there are grounds for thinking that specific differences may

be developed suddenly instead of gradually.

4. “That the opinion that species have definite though very different

limits to their variability is still tenable.

5. “That certain fossil transitional forms are absent which might have

been expected to be present.

6. “That some facts of geographical distribution supplement other

difficulties.

7. “That the objection drawn from the physiological difference between

‘species’ and ‘races’ still exists unrefuted.”

Our readers will readily understand that, if species, or rather

individual animals, were originated by natural law, and if that law be

“natural selection,” the action of “natural selection” must be able

to explain not only the production of the animal as a whole, but of

its several organs, both when they have reached the point of maximum

utility, and at all stages previous thereto.

Mr. Mivart shows that it does not accomplish this; that it does not

account for “the incipient stages of useful structures, _e. g._ the

heads of flatfishes, the baleen of whales, vertebrate limbs, the

laryngeal structures of the new-born kangaroo, the pedicellariæ of

echinoderms”; and thus he established his first charge on purely

scientific grounds, as a scientist writing for scientists. The other

charges are equally well sustained. It would, however, require the

rewriting of Mr. Mivart’s book to follow him through all his facts and

arguments, and we must beg again to refer the reader who would study

the matter in detail, to the book itself.

Another series of objections brought forward by Mr. Mivart against the

same theory is equally well sustained—objections that go to show that

“it cannot be applied at least to the soul of man,” as Mr. Darwin has

applied it.

Here, again, everyone will see that, if the human soul is not created

by God, it, too, must have been gradually evolved from what, for lack

of a more convenient term, though not without protest, we must call

an animal soul, by the process of natural selection; and therefore

there is nothing in man’s soul which was not in the ape’s—the same

faculties, moral and intellectual, in kind, different only in degree.

This question Mr. Mivart discusses in a separate chapter on “Evolution

and Ethics.”

The result of the discussion he thus sums up:

1. “Natural selection could not have produced, from the sensations of

pleasure and pain experienced in brutes, a higher degree of morality

than was useful; therefore it could have produced any amount of

‘beneficial habits,’ but not an abhorrence of certain acts as impure

and sinful.

2. “It could not have developed that high esteem for acts of care and

tenderness to the aged and infirm which actually exists, but would

rather have perpetuated certain low social conditions which obtain in

some savage localities.

3. “It could not have evolved from ape sensations the noble virtues of

a Marcus Aurelius, or the loving but manly devotion of a S. Louis.

4. “That it alone could not have given rise to the maxim, _Fiat

justitia, ruat cœlum_.

5. “That the interval between material and formal morality is one

altogether beyond its power to traverse.”

Mr. Mivart further shows “that the anticipatory character of moral

principles is a fatal bar to that explanation of their origin which

is offered to us by Mr. Herbert Spencer”; and “that the solution of

that origin proposed recently by Sir John Lubbock is a mere version

of simple utilitarianism, appealing to the pleasure or safety of the

individual, and therefore utterly incapable of solving the riddle it

attacks.”

It is hardly necessary that we should dwell on these points. Our

Christian readers need no demonstration of them. Knowing, on the one

hand, what Christian morality is, and, on the other, what mere animal

behavior, they must know the difference between them, and, knowing this

difference, that by no possibility could the one be developed from the

other, there being no oneness of kind in them.

Just here we would remark that, in addition to his other arguments, Mr.

Mivart might have added that from philology against Darwinism, and with

good effect. There are those who, from that science, argue the other

way. But, in a series of able articles on “Darwinism and the Science

of Language,” the Rev. J. Knabenbauer, S. J., has shown that philology

points to a diversity of origin for man and the lower animals.

He argues that the ultimate elements, the roots of all language, are

expressive of general ideas. Now, general ideas are the products of the

intellectual processes known as abstraction and generalization. Hence,

before the formation of roots, before the beginnings of language, man

was man, since he could abstract and generalize. Hence, also, language

is not a development of animal cries, nor man of the brute, since the

brute can neither abstract nor generalize.

Finally, Mr. Mivart shows in his chapter on “Evolution and Theology”

that evolution and creation by no means exclude one another; and that a

Catholic—Mr. Mivart is a Catholic—may accept the theory of evolution,

ancient writers of authority in the church having “asserted abstract

_principles_ such as can perfectly _harmonize_ with the requirements of

modern science,” and, “as it were, provided for the reception of its

most advanced speculations.”

In support of this view, Mr. Mivart quotes from S. Augustine, S.

Thomas, Cornelius à Lapide, and refers to the Jesuit Suarez, with the

doctrines of all of whom it is perfectly consistent to hold that animal

species were created only potentially, _potentialiter tantum_.

By that we do not mean to insinuate that the naked Darwinian theory is

compatible with Catholic faith; but of this more hereafter.