[1] The scope of this article does not admit of much extension on
account of the great demand on the space of the MAGAZINE, but inasmuch
as Col. Byrnes was the most conspicuous officer of any who had to do
with this gallant regiment, a few words concerning his personal career
must seem appropriate. Richard Byrnes had served fifteen years in the
regular army, reaching the commission of first lieutenant in the
cavalry, when he was appointed to the command of the Twenty-Eighth
Massachusetts Volunteers. He was assigned to it by orders in October,
1862. He perfected its discipline with soldierly skill, led it in battle
with the valor of a true Irish-American hero, and commanded the respect
and admiration of his troops. While in command of the Irish brigade at
the battle of Cold Harbor, June 3, 1864, he was mortally wounded and
died at Washington, June 12. His wife soothed his dying moments. He was
interred with due military honors in a cemetery near his home in Jersey
City. The likeness of Col. Byrnes, published in the March number of this
MAGAZINE, is pronounced a most excellent one. The copy was procured from
Col. Jeremiah W. Coveney, of Cambridge, who served with distinction and
honor in the Faugh-a-Ballaghs with the regular army hero.
Drunkenness in Old Times.
The offence of drunkenness was a source of great perplexity to the
ancients, who tried every possible way of dealing with it. If none
succeeded, it was probably because they did not begin early enough by
intercepting some of the ways and means by which the insidious vice is
incited and propagated. Severe treatment was often tried to little
effect. The Locrians, under Zaleucus, made it a capital offence to drink
wine if it was not mixed with water; even an invalid was not exempted
from punishment, unless by the order of a physician. Pittacus, of
Mitylene, made a law that he who when drunk, committed any offence,
would suffer double the punishment which he would do if sober; and
Plato, Aristotle and Plutarch applauded this as the height of wisdom.
The Roman censors could expel a Senator for being drunk and take away
his horse; Mahomet ordered drunkards to be bastinadoed with eighty
blows. Other nations thought of limiting the quantity to be drunk at one
time or at one sitting. The Egyptians put some limit, though what is not
stated. The Spartans, also had some limit. The Arabians fixed the
quantity at twelve glasses a man; but the size of the glass was,
unfortunately, not clearly defined by the historians. The Anglo-Saxons
went no further than to order silver nails to be fixed on the side of
the drinking cups, so that each might know the proper measure. And it is
said that this was done by King Edgar after noticing the drunken habits
of the Danes. Lycurgus, of Thrace, went to the root of the matter by
ordering the vines to be cut down. His conduct was imitated in 704 by
Terbulus of Bulgaria. The Suevi prohibited wine to be imported. And the
Spartans tried to turn the vice into contempt by systematically making
their slaves drunk once a year to show their children how foolish and
contemptible men looked in that state. Drunkenness was deemed much more
vicious in some classes of persons than in others. The ancient Indians
held it lawful to kill a king when he was drunk. The Athenians made it a
capital offence for a magistrate to be drunk, and Charlemagne imitated
this by a law that judges on the bench and pleaders should do their
business fasting. The Carthagenians prohibited magistrates, governors,
soldiers and servants, from any drinking. The Scots, in the second
century, made it a capital offence for magistrates to be drunk: and
Constantine II. of Scotland, 1761, extended a like punishment to young
people. Again, some laws have absolutely prohibited wine from being
drunk by women; the Massillians so decreed. The Romans did the same, and
extended the prohibition to young men under thirty. And the husband and
the wife's relations could scourge the wife for offending, and the
husband himself might scourge her to death.
The Paschal Candle.
From the French of Rev. Michael Romanet, Augustinian, by Th. Xr. K.
From Septuagesima to Holy Saturday, everything in the liturgy breathes a
profound sadness. During those seventy days, like the captives of
Babylon, the sacred spouse clad in mourning garments, no longer sings
her glad canticles; she, too, has hung her harp on the willows beside
the brook. The song of the angels is heard no more at Mass except on the
festivals of the saints, instead of that loud cry of gladness, the
divine _Alleluia_, there is naught but a severe and _dragging_ melody;
and, on Sunday, the night office loses its magnificent Ambrosian hymn.
The closer the day of her spouse's death approaches, the deeper the
Church is plunged in grief.
On Good Friday, violet does not suffice for her moaning: she covers
herself with vestments of black.
But, behold, suddenly, on Saturday morning, while the Christ is still in
the tomb, she seems to forget her mourning. The aspect of grief of the
eve is gone. See the deacon after the blessing of the new fire. He comes
forward, wearing the white dalmatic, the garb of joy, with a triangular
candle in his hand, the image of the Trinity, and sings three times,
"Lumen Christi"--a triple proclamation of the divinity of the Father,
the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He then goes towards the _Paschal Candle_.
Why, then, these emblems of joy in presence of this torch? What are the
memories it brings to the heart of the Spouse thus to make gladness take
the place of grief? Let us ask the author of the blessing of the
Paschal Candle, St. Ambrose, for the explanation of this mysterious
symbol. Let us question, too, the faith of the Middle Ages. Let us
listen to the symbolic language so familiar to our fathers, and with
which we are so little acquainted. Perhaps, even, we have sometimes
surprised a smile on our lips at the sight of that candle, and of
certain other exterior practices of worship, whose significance we did
not understand; for, in our days, how great, generally, is the ignorance
of the faithful in the matter of liturgy and symbolism. Now, we see how
magnificent is the meaning of that ceremony of the blessing of the
Paschal Candle which was extended by St. Zozimus in the middle of the
fifth century to the other churches of the city of Rome, although
baptism was conferred only at the baptistery of Lutran, and later on by
other popes to all the churches, even to those which have no baptismal
fonts: so holy and salutary did the sovereign pontiffs consider the
impressions which this great rite should produce.
In this candle, superior in weight and in size to the candles which are
generally lighted on other solemnities, in this unique candle, the
princes of liturgy show us the image of Jesus Christ, a precious symbol
which is impressed on it by the virtue of the blessing.
This blessing is reserved for the deacon. To him belongs this
prerogative when the priest, and even when the bishop is present. This
is because the deacon represents on this occasion the holy women, who,
notwithstanding the inferiority of their sex, were commissioned by the
Saviour to announce His resurrection to His Apostles, and that, by a
disposition of Providence, woman, in the first days of the world, sent
by the demon to man, brought him death; woman was to be sent by the
risen Christ to man to proclaim life to him. The Apostles were still in
tears, when, in transports of gladness, Mary Magdalene and her
companions announced to them the mystery of the resurrection. The priest
and the bishop, too, still wear the color of mourning, when, clothed in
white, the deacon freely and loudly chants the beautiful prayers of the
blessing, and is thus the herald of the resurrection's joys.
In consequence of the deacon's blessing, the candle then becomes the
symbol of Christ. "Before it is lighted," says Dom Gueranger, summing up
on this point the interpretations of the olden liturgists, "its type is
in the pillar of cloud which covered the departure of the Hebrews as
they went forth from Egypt; under this first form, it is a figure of
Christ in the tomb, inanimate, lifeless. When it will have received the
flame, we shall see in it the pillar of fire which gave light to the
holy people's feet, and also the figure of Christ, all radiant with the
splendors of His resurrection."
This majestic symbolism is demonstrated by the prayers of the blessing.
And first those cries of gladness, those outbursts of joy, and that
lavishness of praise on the part of the deacon, as he stands before that
waxen pillar, we now understand, knowing that _He_ whom the candle
represents, the Divine Light, is the one to whom they are addressed.
The deacon begins with a lyric exordium. Let those who understand Latin
read in the text itself that magnificent prayer of the _Exultet_; the
translation cannot entirely reproduce its beauties:
"Let now the heavenly troop of angels rejoice; let the divine mysteries
be joyfully celebrated, and let the sacred trumpet proclaim the victory
of so great a king. Let the earth rejoice, illumined with such
resplendent rays, and let the whole world feel that the darkness is
driven from it by the splendor of the Eternal King. Let the church, our
mother, also rejoice, being adorned by the rays of so great a light, and
let this temple resound with the joyful acclamations of the people.
Wherefore, most beloved brethren, who are now present at the admirable
brightness of this holy light, I beseech you to invoke with me the mercy
of the Almighty God. That He, who hath been pleased without merit of
mine, to admit me into the number of the Levites will, by an infusion of
His light upon me enable me to celebrate worthily the praise of this
taper."
No, this candle would not merit as much praise if it did not represent
the Christ. The Son alone, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, is
deserving of praise.
"It is truly meet and just to proclaim with all the affections of our
heart and soul, and with the sound of our voice, the invisible God the
Father Almighty, and His only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who
paid for us to His eternal Father the debt of Adam, and by His own blood
cancelled the guilt contracted by original sin."
As though to give a reason for his songs of glory, the deacon hastens to
proclaim aloud the coming of Easter: "For this is the Paschal solemnity
in which the true Lamb is slain, by whose blood the doors of the
faithful are consecrated." The Hebrews celebrated the ancient Pasch at
night. Standing, with loins girded and staves in their hands, they
awaited the passing of the Lord. This expectation at night the faithful
renew on Holy Saturday. St. Jerome tells us in fact that it was an
Apostolic custom maintained by the Christians of his day to remain
united in prayer until midnight, awaiting the coming of Christ. But
another mystery is included in that night, and, in its mute language,
the candle unites with the deacon in reminding us that in the Old
Testament there was another night and another pillar. The Lord, it is
said in Exodus, went before the sons of Israel, when they went forth
from Egypt, by day in a pillar of cloud, to show them the way, and
during the night in a pillar of fire, to be their guide both day and
night. Now, this pillar of cloud like the pillar of wax still unlighted,
is the humanity of Christ, the cloud in which Divine wisdom has placed
its throne: _thronus meus_ in _columna nubis_ (Eccl. xxiv.). But this
candle will soon be lighted by contact with the new fire, as the
humanity of Jesus Christ will recover life by the approach of the fire
of the Divinity. Then, indeed, is this a night of exultation for the
Church when she sees coming to her, triumphant over death, the Divine
Spouse whom she bewailed but recently, buried in the darkness of the
tomb. So with what complacency does not the deacon celebrate this
thousand-fold happy night. He hails it as the dawn of the glorious
mystery of the Resurrection:
"This is the night in which Thou formerly broughtest forth our
forefathers, the children of Israel, out of Egypt, leading them dry-foot
through the Red Sea. This, then, is the night which dissipated the
darkness of sin by the light of the pillar. This is the night which now
delivers all over the world those that believe in Christ from the vices
of the world and the darkness of sin, restores them to grace, and
clothes them with sanctity." This is the night in which Christ broke the
chains of death, and ascended conqueror from hell. Naught would it have
profited us to be born, if we were not redeemed.
"O how admirable is Thy goodness towards us! O how inestimable is Thy
excess of love! To redeem the slave, Thou hast given up the Son. O truly
necessary sin of Adam, which the death of Christ has blotted out! O
happy fault that merited such and so great a Redeemer!
"O truly blessed night! which alone deserved to know the time and hour
when Christ rose again from hell. This is the night of which it is
written: And the night shall be as light as day; and the night shineth
upon me in my pleasures. Therefore the sanctification of this night
blots out crimes, washes away sins, and restores innocence to the
fallen, and joy to the sorrowful. It banishes enmities, produces
concord, and humbles empires."
The deacon then fixes in the candle, in the form of a cross, the five
grains of incense which were previously blessed at the same time as the
new fire, a visible image of the five wounds made in the flesh of the
Crucified. Liturgists also show us in this incense the perfumes and
spices which Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome
bought to embalm Jesus (St. Mark xvi. 1).
"Receive, O holy Father, receive on this night the evening sacrifice
which Thy holy Church, by the hands of her ministers, presents to Thee,
in this solemn oblation of this wax candle, made out of the labor of
bees."
The Passion was truly the evening sacrifice, according to David's
prophetic word, _Elevatio manuum mearum sacrificium vespertinum_ (Ps.
cxl. 3), because it was in the evening of the world, as at the decline
of the day, that the Divine Victim expired, uttering a loud cry to
heaven, after having declared that all was consummated!
It was in the evening, too, _ad auram post meridiem_ (Gen. iii. 8), at
the hour when a gentle wind arises, when through the earthly paradise
resounded the voice of the Lord: "Adam, where art thou?" At the very
hour when He found Adam guilty of disobedience, four thousand years
afterwards the Father called His Son to Him and found the new Adam
obedient, and obedient even to the death of the cross.
"_Sed jam nunc columnae hujus praeconia novimus_," the deacon continues to
sing. "And now we know the excellence of this pillar, which the
sparkling fire lights for the honor of God."
The sacred minister then lights the Paschal Candle. He lights it with
the fire which was recently struck from the stone, that is, from Christ,
the Corner-Stone who, beaten by the rods of the scourging, produced in
us the divine spark of love pre-eminent of the Holy Ghost. This is the
fire which the Son came to bring upon the earth with the desire to see
it enkindle the world. Lighted and fed by the wood of the cross, its
divine flame is fanned by the breath of the Holy Ghost. This new fire
is also the new doctrine of the Saviour, the _mandatum novum_ of which
St. John speaks.
The candle thus lighted is thenceforth the figure of the risen Saviour,
as we have said. The humanity of Christ lay, too, extinguished in the
shades of death; but, behold, beneath the burning breath of the
divinity, it has suddenly recovered life, and Jesus emerges from the
night of the tomb all resplendent with light.
The image of the Son is now revealed to us more completely in the
symbolism of the candle. According to the interpretations of the
liturgists, the three elements of the candle are not without meaning.
The wax formed from the juice of the flowers by the bees, which
antiquity always regarded as the type of virginity, signifies the
virginal flesh of the Incarnate Word. Mary, without ceasing to be a
virgin, Mary, the industrious bee, says the Abbot Rupert, has brought us
forth a God in the flesh, like honey in wax: _Maria nobis puerum in
carne quasi mel in cera protulit_.[2] St. Anselm teaches us to behold in
the wick, which is in the inside of the candle, the soul of Jesus
Christ, and His Divinity in the light which burns in the upper portion.
If the candle is the image of the Word made flesh, it was with reason
that on it was inscribed the current year counting from the Incarnation.
This inscription, of which the ancient liturgists tell, indicates that
Christ is like the ancient year, the great year, the year full of days,
of which the twelve apostles are the months; the elect, the days; and
the neophytes, the hours. We see in the Abbot Rupert that this
inscription was engraved in the wax itself in the form of a cross, and
Durand of Mende speaks of a tablet which was fastened against the candle
as Pilate's inscription was placed on the cross: _Jesus Nazarenus Rex
Judaeorum_.
The Paschal Candle will serve to light the neophytes to the holy waters
of baptism, as the pillar of fire guided the Hebrews on their
going-forth from Egypt through the waters of the Red Sea to the Promised
Land; a twofold light, which is for us the emblem of "that light which
enlighteneth every man coming into this world," of Him who is the way,
the truth, and the life, and who, after having delivered them from the
bondage of Satan, after having led them through the waters of baptism,
guides His people to the land of the living, the true Promised Land.
An ancient author remarks that it was not at the first or at the second
stopping-place of the Hebrews, but at the third, that the pillar went
before them, and he applies this triple encampment of Ramatha, Segor,
and Ethan to the three days of the Passion, the sepulture, and the
resurrection. Ramatha (_commotio tineae_) well represents the day of the
Passion, when the Jews, after having torn the flesh of Jesus, like the
moth, attack His garments, His seamless tunic, endeavoring to rend the
unity of the Church. But death was the road by which He passed from
Ramatha to Segor (_tabernaculum_), that is, into the tent of the tomb.
The tent is for the soldier: like an indomitable warrior, Christ in the
tomb despoils His vanquished foe. Finally, the day of the resurrection
was the day of arrival in Ethan (_firmum vel signa ejus_), because,
thenceforth, death has no sting for Him, _mors ultra non dominabitur
illi_, and also because it was as a sign for the Apostles when He
appeared to them radiant after the night of the tomb, illumining them
like the pillar of fire.
But let us return to the deacon's prayers. He thus continues the chant
which he had broken off to light the candle:--
"This fire, though now divided, suffers no loss from the communication
of its light, because it is fed by the melted wax, produced by the bee,
to make this precious taper."
Then the lamps hanging in the church are lighted. This lighting takes
place only some time after that of the Paschal Candle, because the
knowledge of the resurrection was diffused only successively. Finally,
the deacon concludes the blessing in these words:
"O truly blessed light! which plundered the Egyptians and enriched the
Hebrews. A night in which heaven is united to earth, and the Divine to
the human! We beseech Thee, therefore, O Lord, let this candle,
consecrated to the honor of Thy name, continue burning to dissipate the
darkness of this night, and, being accepted as a sweet odor, be united
with the celestial lights. Let the morning-star find it burning. That
Morning-star, I mean, which never sets; which, being returned from hell,
shone with brightness on mankind."
By the mouth of the deacon, therefore, the Church praises in the Paschal
Candle the Christ-light. Borne before the catechumens, this candle
denotes that it is by Christ Jesus their darkness is dispelled. So, too,
it is from the divine torch of His doctrine that we all must get light.
We are invited to it by that other ceremony in use in certain churches,
according to the testimony of many ancient liturgists. Durand of Mende
and the Abbot Rupert tell us that a second candle was lighted from the
Paschal Candle, and from it all the others were lighted. Christ is the
light above all others; but He projects His rays upon the Apostles to
reflect from them upon the whole Church. St. Augustine tells us of that
twofold lighting of the Church by Christ and the Apostles when he
explains to Januarius why the faithful should receive communion fasting,
although the Apostles received after the Last Supper or evening meal:
_Namque Salvator, quo vehementius commendarit mysterii illius
altitudinem, ultimum hoc infigeri voluit cordibus et memoriae
discipulorum a quibus ad passionem digressurus erat; et ideo non
praecipit quo deinceps ordine sumeretur, ut apostoli per quos ecclesias
dispositurus erat servarent hunc locum_. The Saviour, the more to fill
the minds and hearts of His disciples with the greatness of this
sacrament, would have it the last act which he was to perform with them
before separating from them for His Passion. He Himself did not arrange
the order thenceforth to be followed in the reception of that sacrament.
Why? _In order to leave that question to the Apostles._ Hence he calls
them the light of the world, as He calls Himself: _Ego sum lux mundi.
Vos estis lux mundi_.
Finally to the right and the left of these two candles were sometimes
placed two others lighted from the Paschal Candle. Let us here admire
the saints of the Old and the New Testament. They all, in fact, received
the divine irradiations of the Sun of Justice, the former through the
doctrine of the Prophets, the latter through that of the Apostles.
Such is the significance of the blessing of the Paschal Candle, in which
the Church delights to display all the pomp of her inspired language!
What a lesson in this ceremony! a lesson at which some, perhaps, will be
greatly astonished, because they do not know that the ceremonies of the
liturgy are a continual preaching.
_Jam columnae hujus praeconia novimus_, yes, we now know what that pillar
of wax, itself the image of the pillar of old, denotes: it is Jesus
Christ, Jesus Christ everywhere. He is the true pillar, a pillar of
cloud when, through the Holy Ghost, He protects us with His shadow
against the devouring fire of the passions, and, at the same time, a
pillar of fire, because His doctrine is the light which enlightens us
through the darkness of the light of this world.
Now, for the true Catholic, Jesus Christ lives in the Roman Pontiff. Our
Holy Father the Pope is the depositary of the light of truth. Never must
we lose sight of that bright beacon; but above all in the hour of storm,
when only fitful gleams are seen, it is for every Catholic a strict duty
to turn towards Him, under penalty of sinking in the darkness without
being able to find the haven.
This lesson, especially in this Paschal time, may be applied to all,
although in degrees proportioned to the condition of each. And who has
not more or less need of approaching God? Woe to him who will not have
the beneficent shadows and the salutary lights of the Christ! he will
perish in his infirmity. Thinking that he can see far from the light, he
will remain in darkness, while by drawing nigh to Him the blind will
recover sight. _Cur non ergo et nobis Christus columna?_ let us say with
St. Augustine, _Quia et rectus et firmus, et fulciens infirmitatem
nostram per noctem lucens, et per diem non lucens, et ut qui non vident
videant, et qui vident caecci fiant!_ (S. Aug., in libro contra Faustum,
xii.)
[This will be followed by the translation of an article on
the Agnus Dei, made from the wax of the Paschal Candle.]
* * * * *
Mgr. Ridel, the holy missionary bishop of Corea, lately gone to receive
the reward of long privation and cruel sufferings endured for the faith,
was indebted to his pious mother for his vocation as a missionary. One
day, whilst he was yet a mere child playing at her knee, he saw on the
table a beautiful blue book,--a volume of the "Annals of the Propagation
of the Faith."--"Mamma," said the child, "are there any stories in that
book?"--"Yes, my child: it is full of stories about missionaries."--"What
are missionaries, mamma?"--"Missionaries are priests who go to far-off
countries, amongst savage races, to teach them how to save their
souls."--"Then I am going to be a missionary, too, and tell them how to
get to heaven with us."