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REV. W. P. CONSIDIHE,
383 SIXTH STREET, DETROIT, MICH.
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(From the original design of the Roman Painter, Gagliardi.)
THE MESSENGER
SACRED HEART OF JESUS
VOL. VI (xxvi). JANUARY, 1891.
No. 1
BOTH OLD AND NEW.
By Eleanor C. Donnelly.
EAR her sing through the hush of the night, Sing through the dawn of the fair, young day,
— The Bride to her Spouse, to her heart's delight, — Love-song thrilling the years for aye !
Sweet and strong and tender and true — Hark to the heavenly harmony !
"All my fruits, both old and new,
I've kept, Beloved, for Thee, for Thee !"
All the fruits of the year gone by,
All the fruits of the year begun; Thoughts and words that never can die,
Good deeds ripened in shade and sun : Clear and low, 'neath the vault of blue,
Bride of the Canticles, sing with me !
"All my fruits, both old and new,
I've kept, Beloved, for Thee, for Thee !"
Copyright, 1891, by Rev. R. S. Dewey, S. J. All rights reserved.]
TIMOLEAGUE.
All the fruits of the dead old year,
All the fruits of the year new-born, — Prayers, and labors, and sufferings dear,
Pledges plighted, and vows re-sworn — Gilded with sunlight, gemm'd with dew,
Heart of Jesus, our harvest see ! "All my fruits, both old and new,
I've kept, Beloved, for 1 hee, for Thee !"
KINSALE HARBOR.
TIMOLEAGUE.
r 1 ^HE passenger on board one of the great trans- Atlantic steam- ships for America, as he comes slowly forth from the Cove of Cork (now called Queenstown), sees to the right for many hours a frowning, ruggedly broken sea-wall, iron-gray and mottled with russet weather stains, with here and there a glimpse of the daintiest green fields where some creek or bay opens suddenly inland. Most forbidding and longest seen of all is the low, out- reaching promontory called the Old Head of Kinsale, just beyond the harbor of the same name. Underneath its rocky chine, he is
TIMOLEAGUE. 3
told, the ceaseless beating of the waves age after age has worn caverns from side to side, through which the sea keeps up its ever- lasting booming. When at last he turns the Head, a deep inden- tation of the shore line marks the entrance to
— Courtmasherry's placid bay,
at the end of whose westernmost inlet lie the picturesque ruins of Timoleague Abbey, dear to the lover of the beauty of Irish scenery and the glory of Ireland's antique saintliness.
Timoleague is just an easy, half-Englished way of pronounc- ing the Irish words meaning the "House of Molaga"; and Molaga was one of the early Saints when Ireland was young in the Christ- ian faith for which it has suffered so much. Like many another Saint of that time, he had much to do with his brother missionaries of the Celtic race in Scotland and Wales ; and his own life was spent in much travelling to and fro, studying and founding mon- asteries and doing any good work that came to hand, even to spreading the culture of bees in his own Ireland.
It is common enough among these early Irish Saints — and yet it is strange, when one comes to think of it — that they have left their names bound up with all the different periods of their country's history. This is because of the work done so well by them during their busy lives, and of the work done after they were dead and gone by the devotion of the common people to them through the succeeding centuries. Thus, in the case of Molaga, we have a few antique bits of building in the rude, prim- itive style of the early Celtic Christians, dating from himself or his disciples and telling a story of zeal for the glory of God's house and the salvation of souls. Then we have the fine "Abbey" built much later in his honor by friars who came over from Italy hundreds of years after his death. And, in their turn, these splendid arches now stand broken and open to the day with only the ivy to clothe them round about, and the birds and winds to make music where the priests once sang to the glory of God and the Saint God gave them — Molaga.
All this is in the old sub-kingdom of Desmond, which was South Munster; and just as the faith of Molaga has outlived Celtic
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TIMOLEAGUE. 5
wars and Danish and Norman invasions and persecutions of Eliza- beth and Cromwell, so the old names of his time are well known among his still faithful Irish people of to-day. The "Bed of Molaga" — his own chief abiding-place in life and in death — is near to Mitchelstown, of unsaintly doings in recent days; and the "House of Molaga"- — Timoleague Abbey — is down in Corkalee, the territory of the O'Driscolls. The M'Carthy, or perhaps Barry, founded it for the Franciscans ; and it was defended by the O'Sullivan Bear when the persecutor would have destroyed it root and branch. And since then, how many dead of names familiar to the Saint as to us sleep peacefully amid the ruins in this blessed ground of his!
It was in the territory of Fermoy, on the bound of the present barony of Condons and Clangibbon, far toward the north- eastern corner of County Cork, that our Saint was born, in the old principality of the O'Keefes which was long known as the Roches' country. He was of the family of the O'Dugans, possessors of this territory of the "woodland," as it was called. His parents were humble tillers of the ground, as were many who were kin to the petty Kings then governing the land. They had long been childless, and had all their hopes in the heavenly kingdom. One day, as they were sowing a ridge of flax on the south side of the road that runs along the little river Funshion, a troop of priests passed by travelling somewhither with St. Cummin the Long at their head. The Saint foretold to them that they should bring forth a son to their old age, as did Abraham and Sara; "that he would be a friend of learning, and that he should sit in the smooth hill of the plain as Abbot of the school."
When the child of prophecy was born, his parents brought him to the Cross of the Dun or neighboring Fort; and, behold, St. Cummin was at the ford awaiting to baptize one with whom, indeed, he was to be connected all his life. Here, later on, arose the church of Aghacross. Its ruins remain by the bend in the river ; and beside it is still an ancient well, consecrated to the Saint and flowing with its clear waters
— by lone Molaga's holy cells.
6
TIMOLEAGUE.
The cells of the Saint, which he built for himself and his disciples in the rude fashion of the time, have still their ruins on his "smooth hill of the plain." They are in the Saint's own parish of Tempul Molaga ; for his name, as we have said, remains everywhere here, however far away and dim may be the memories of the period in which he lived. On the southern slope of the hill, with the mountain stream winding below, the cashel or termon wall encloses an open space in which are the early oratory,
DOORWAY OF ORATORY, LEABA MOLAGA.
(After photographic view of Lord Dunraven.)
a church of later date, another square building, and two of those crosses which speak so pathetically of the faith of Erin. The ora- tory is some twenty feet from the church. A great ash tree over- shadows its eastern window, inside which according to ancient custom stood the altar whereon Christ — the mystic Day spring and Orient from on high — was offered in the Holy Sacrifice, even as now in the nearest and scarcely less humble parish church. Forty years ago there were six of these trees, and the walls stood much
TIMOLEAGUE. 7
higher; but everything is slowly disappearing before the hand of man. So much the more necessary is it that the holy associations of the place should be preserved while there is yet time. Eighty feet away and still along the southern side of the hill, are four pillar stones as if to mark a boundary. To the west stretch afar the Galty Mountains in swelling waves, blue in the distance and mingling nearer the deep shadows of retreating valleys with the great russet spots on greenclad slopes which form so character- istic a picture in the memory of the tourist through Southern Ireland.
Molaga — a young Culdee or Irish monk — did not long remain in the monastery after the years of his studies were over. He had gathered together a few disciples in this spot. But there were still Druids and idolatrous practices in the country ; and he felt himself driven forth, sore at heart, from the midst of so many evils. So he set out for Connor in Ulster, where there had been a bishop since the time of the Apostle St. Patrick. It still forms a bishop's see, though long since united under one head with Down. Like the other holy men of his day, he carried a bell with him to give sign of the exercises of devotion. It was lost by him on the way, and its recovery was the occasion of founding a church (now Kill-foda in O'Neil-land East), whose lands were afterward called the Termon of the bell, while the " priest's mis- take of his bell " passed into a proverb. From this he wandered on into Scotland and down to Wales, to the disciples of the great St. David of Menevia, a title which in our own day — after cen- turies of forced apostasy on the part of the Welsh people — has again been given to a Catholic bishop's see.
After some time spent in Wales, the Saint returned to his own country. He had received during his stay in other lands, first, the name by which we know him — for Mo-laga is the kind- hearted Irish way of saying " My Lachen," the name bestowed on him by the religious children of St. David ; — and second, a bell presented to him in memory of the religious ties he had formed with them. This present was enough to leave his name to a place in Wales, long called Boban-Molaga.
8 TIMOLEAGUE.
St. David had always been in communication with his Celtic brethren of Ireland, and another of his disciples — Modomhnog, or Dominic of Ossory — had brought home with him from the Welsh monastery a swarm of bees, the culture of which he introduced among the Irish monks. But by this time " My Dominic's " bees were in need of another trained hand for their due care ; and the services of our own Saint were eagerly demanded by the chieftain of what is now Dublin, as soon as he arrived there on his way homeward. He took this as an indication of the will of Provi- dence ; for he was ever distrustful of the voice of flesh and blood in seeking again his native region among the hills of Munster — Liath-Muine. So a church and land were given him a little to the north of what is now Balbriggan town ; and the King of Dun Dubhline ordered that every person in his domains should pay the Saint a pighin or penny every three years for his support, while he was to take charge of the patriarchal swarm of the Irish bees. In the midst of the blessed ground where the dead of his race are still laid away in the hope of the same resurrection which he preached, are the ruins of his old chapel of Lambeecher in Bremore, which is nothing else than the good Welsh name — Llan-beachaire — or "Church of the Beeman." As late as the year 1200, when these parts were known as Fingall, or the region of the " tribe of the Danes," the Archbishop of Dublin gave the chapel to the Canons serving God in the religious house of the Blessed Virgin at Kilbixy.
These may seem insignificant details; but they point the moral — how, through all the ages and in all things, bees and Danes, home learning and foreign emigration, Ireland has drawn her best life from the Catholic faith. Because of her faith, it is true, she has had suffering which is the reward of faith ; and happiness is the recompense of suffering.
We next find St. Molaga amid St. Kieran's Seven Churches of Clonmacnoise on the River Shannon, the greatest of the ancient Irish establishments of religion and learning. About this time his old neighbors of Fermoy came to beg him to return to his own monastery of lulaeh-mhin — the smooth hill on the plain.
TIMOLEAGUE.
9
They promised him many things, even fifty white milch cows every successive year ; and when he sent them away, they simply came back to him accompanied by their beseeching wives and children. He could no longer withstand so earnest entreaties ; and henceforth, to his death, his name is associated with his native home. It afterward became known by his name as Labba or Leaba Malaga — " the Bed of Molaga ;" — for there, as all tradition has it, his mortal remains still lie awaiting the resurrection.
It is there the ruins here described may be found. You enter the western door of the oratory, which like all these very
PILASTER OF ORATORY. PILLAR STOUP.
> ANCIENT STONE-WORK AT LEABA MOLAGA.
early houses of prayer is little more than a dozen feet in length. Notice by the way the rude yet true art with which the lintel is disposed ; it is the early entablature, used before the arch had yet been introduced into that curious and original system o± architecture which belongs to early Christian Ireland. In its later developments this presents a true progress in art, worthy of the study and admiration which the ancient art of Ireland has only of late — too late, alas — received.
A remarkable pillar stoup, or columnar stone font, is still preserved here. It once stood just within the door. On the south side, near the foot of the altar, there is a large flag stone, lifted above the ground by two low side stones ; and here is the
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TIMOLEAGUE. 11
tomb of St. Molaga. Until these later days devout pilgrims came and, creeping into the space beneath the flag, prayed to the Saint to whose sanctified relics they were thus brought so near. It is only within the last few years that the stone altar under the east window has been destroyed ; but the Holy Mass and, let us hope it, the memory of St. Molaga will not perish from among his faithful people.
One of the latest acts of the Saint had been to imperil his life for his brethren by ministering to them in the time of the terrible "yellow plague" — the Buidhe Chonnuil. And — a final remembrance to bring us up short with a reference to our own so different age — one who worked along with the Saint in his later time was the Abbot of Spike Island, which the passenger for America has also seen, with all its prison recollections, in Queens- town Harbor.
It is not in connection with his last resting-place, but with the great Abbey called by way of excellence the " House of Molaga" — Teach-Molaga — that our Saint's name is chiefly known. Colgan, the historian of the Irish Saints, gives on the 20th of January " the feast of St. Molaga, Confessor, Patron of the Church of Timoleague." This was probably the site of one of the Saint's primitive monasteries ; but its present memories date only from the coming of the Franciscans, in 1240. Even its noble, but irregular architecture — lofty arches resting on pillars without capitals, some cylindrical and some square, windows with mullions and without, lancet-shaped and square-headed and obtuse — all tells of the later art that came in with the Normans and the Cistercian monks of St. Bernard.
Into Courtmacsherry Bay, stretching away from the Abbey's southern side, the Spanish galleons laden with their rich wines were wont to come to trade with the Irish. Hides and fish and wool, linen cloth and squirrel skins, were the unromantic articles the latter offered in exchange. A considerable village grew up ; and, in consequence of the tradition affirming that St. Molaga had once sojourned here, the whole district was put under his invocation and called Timoleague. When the Normans, destined to become
12 TIMOLEAGUE.
more Irish than the Irish themselves, penetrated thus far — Barrys and De Courceys and the rest — they found no difficulty in accom- modating themselves to the devotions of the native Celt ; and when the friars arrived and the great Abbey was to be built, no patron could be thought of but St. Molaga.
The honor of founding Timoleague Abbey is given by some to the Norman Barry, by others to McCarthy, Prince of Carbery. Beside the convent rose the church, with its nave of ninety feet running into a spacious choir half its own length, and a lateral wing or transept extending nearly forty feet to the south. The bell tower, at every period a special feature in Irish churches, rose sixty-eight feet at the junction of choir and nave. Outside, along the sheltered angle with its southern exposure where the tran- sept joined the main body of the church, were the arcades of the pleasant, sunny cloister. There the friars might walk to and fro in sight of the peaceful bay, and
The swelling fields of Barryroe,
And all the westward Carbery heights.
In the choir, the tomb of Daniel M'Carthy, the supposed founder, and the monuments of the O'Donovans and O'Heas were still there in the beginning of the seventeenth century. The De Courceys, Lords of Kinsale, also had their burial place here. One of these, Edmund, Bishop of Ross and himself a Fran- ciscan, was a great benefactor of the Abbey. He induced his nephew, James De Courcey, the Lord of Kinsale, to rebuild a great part of the convent; and, at his death in 1517, he bequeathed to his brethren there many valuable legacies of altar-plate and books.
During Queen Elizabeth's reign, Timoleague suffered much from the Catholic-hating soldiery let loose on Ireland — that "most distressed country." An attack on this home of prayer and charity has inspired one of Mr. T. D. Sullivan's most stir- ring ballads :
In Tinioleague's old Abbey pile By Courtmasherry's placid bay,
T1MOLEAGUE.
13
EAST WINDOW. ^ THROUGH ARCH (BELOW TOWER) DIVIDING NAVE FROM CHOIR.
A monk sat in the bell-tower, while
Down sunk the snn of a summer day ;
He heard his brethren's hymn of prayer Float upward on the balmy air ;
Then clasping in his bony hand His large black bead, he bent and swayed With deep emotion, while he prayed That Ireland's troubles soon might cease.
14
TIMOLEAGUE.
But almost ere the prayer was sped From his pure lips, a sense of dread
Thrilled through him in that quiet hour ; And casting 'round a furtive glance, O Christ ! he saw the quick advance
Of Saxon troops. He scarce had pow'r To call, to shriek, to strike the bell, To rush below from cell to cell,
To summon all his startled freres, When crash ! in splinters went the door — The soldiers tramped across the floor, Burst to the chapel, laughed and swore
A goodly prize was theirs.
WEST WINDOW AND CLOISTER, TIMOLEAGUE ABBEY.
The beautiful windows were smashed in, the carving and statues hacked by sword and axe, and the tombs of the dead trampled under the hoofs of the horses which had been spurred into the house of God. The sacred vessels were torn from the Tabernacle, and the consecrated hosts profaned. Then, to com- plete their sacrilegious work,
Before they went they'd show their grace
By pausing just to say — That was a generous Saint indeed, Who in their day of real need
TIMOLEAGUE. 15
When wine was scarce and cash was slack, Had set them on that blessed track, And after hours of sore fatigue Had led them safe to Timoleague By Courtmasherry bay.
The good friars bent to the storm and prayed for their despoilers. Not so another stout-hearted inmate of Timoleague, not a friar, but only the carpenter who had
— labored gladly here While many a tranquil year went round,
To carve and shape and polish fair What now lies wrecked upon the ground.
This one, in his righteous anger, unto the founder of all
Franciscans
Spoke from his hot brain hastily :
If this base crew before me now
Shall pass from hence unhurt away. O great Saint Francis ! hear my vow —
I'll not work here another day. I'll cast my well-loved tools aside, I'll tramp and travel far and wide,
And let your monks as bast they may Refit their convent by the side
Of Courtmasherry bay.
As if his stern words had moved the Saint to action, his prayer was scarcely ended when the wild cry of the Irish kerns came borne on the breeze.
The valiant Donal of Dunbuidhe —
the O'Sullivan Bear — was coming, not speedily enough to hinder the sack of Timoleague, but not too late to avenge it.
Short was the combat. Fiercely well
The troopers fought, and loud they swore ; By twos and threes and tens they fell
Beside the walls, before the door. The leader of the ribald jest
And mocking prayer profanely bold Felt cloven downward to the breast,
Nor longer clutched the beaten gold.
16
TIMOLEAGUE.
One horseman only, faint and pale,
Sped from the field of death away — Spared to make known the dreadful tale, And shout the warning on the gale — " Beware the Abbey in the vale
By Courtmasherry bay. "
But the sacrilegious spoliation of St. Molaga's House was not at an end. In the profanation leading to its final ruin, the names of two Anglican Churchmen appear — William Lyons, the intruded Protestant Bishop of Cork and a certain Doctor Ham-
GREAT EAST WINDOW OF CHOIR, FROM POINT BEFORE EAST WINDOW OF SIDE-CHAPEL, SOUTH.
mer, a minister. Of course, in speaking of Elizabethan prelates it must be always borne in mind that they were apostates. In the Protestant prelates of a subsequent period, education and long- rooted prejudice were responsible for what in the case of Lyons and Hammer was due to something very akin to demoniacal possession.
Lyons naturally had little love for the friars. As for their beautiful Abbey with its treasures of art, it was of value in his eyes only as available for building materials. In 1590, wishing in his zeal for the Gospel to put up a mill of his own, he made a
TIMOLE/tGUE. 17
descent on a mill the friars had built on their little River Arighi- deen. He carried off everything belonging to it, even to the very stones of which it was built. An inundation, however, swept all his work away when it was completed and the people did not fail to see in this a proof of Heaven's displeasure.
In 1596, the minister Doctor Hammer came in a small vessel to Timoleague, to get timber for a fine dwelling-house which he was building near Cork. He pulled apart the richly carved oaken wainscoting of the friars' cells, and loading his vessel with it sailed away. Hardly had the ship however cleared the bay, when a gale sprang up and sent the vessel with all its freight to the bottom.
On Christmas Eve in 1612, Lyons the Bishop of Cork, who had then reached an extreme old age, was told that the people all around Timoleague were to assemble in the Abbey to assist at the Midnight Mass. Straightway rising up with the band of ruffians who were his ordinary suite, he started out to hunt the friars and their congregation.
He had passed the gates of Cork into the open country, when he was seized with sudden illness. His companions begged him to return. But hatred of the Catholics was stronger in him than the pains of the body. He dismounted and, wrapping himself in warmer garments, bestrode his horse again, determined to accom- plish his bloody purpose. But God was watching over the wor- shippers in Timoleague that night. The pains grew more and more intense till finally they forced him to retrace his steps to Cork.
In 1602, Owen McEgan, the Catholic Bishop-elect of Ross, while acting as chaplain to the troops of the O'Sullivan Bear, fell mortally wounded by the English and died on the field. His remains were brought to Timoleague by the O'Sullivans and the M'Carthys. There they still lie awaiting the coming of the Lord Who shall judge persecuted and persecutor alike. Round about have been laid the ashes of generation after generation of Irish Catholics. Many nameless 'heaving mounds of clay' are here, on which the sun pours its warm ray through the ruined
18 TIMOLEAGUE.
southern window. The uncovered peasant, with that respect for the dead which is so marked among the Irish, still kneels
— before the portals Where of old were wont to be, For the blind, the halt, and leper, Alma and hospitality.
One of the last of the Irish harpers, John Collins who died in 1816, fittingly sang in the old tongue a last " Lament over Timoleague." Sir Samuel Ferguson has translated it from the Irish and preserved it to us in his Lays of the Western Gael.
There, I said in woeful sorrow,
Weeping bitterly the while, Was a time when joy and gladness
Reigned within this ruined pile.
Empty aisle, deserted chancel,
Tower tottering to your fall, Many a storm since then has beaten
On the grey head of your wall.
Gone your Abbot, rule and order,
Broken down your altar stones ; Nought see I beneath your shelter,
Save a heap of clayey bones.
Oh ! the hardship, oh ! the hatred,
Tyranny and cruel war, Persecution and oppression
That have left you as you are !
RUINS OF LAMBEECHER CHAPEL, BBEMORE.
JOSEPH'S DREAM. By Agnes Hampton.
1 HIS is the true story of an Arab child of Christian parents ; his happy, dreams in Bethlehem of the East become real only after weary days in this New World of the West.
The fair blue sky of Palestine looked down on the house where little Joseph was born. There he spent twelve happy, innocent years. The same hills that echoed the Angels' chorus, on the first holy Christmas night, threw their shadows across the spot where he dwelt. Bethlehem, the city of David and the birth- place of the world's Redeemer, was his home.
His parents were pious in their humble condition. They were the descendants of Christian Arabs who for generations had lived in the ancient city. They earned a meagre livelihood by the manufacture and sale of rosaries, crucifixes, and holy images. They had their modest home in a house that had once been almost stately in its architecture and surroundings, but was fast crumbling away for want of the care their poverty would not permit them to bestow upon it.
Near the dwelling, along the hillside, was the garden with a few venerable olive trees. An ancient vine shaded a rustic bench and table ; and there was a shed to shelter the donkey which was the willing servant and the children's playmate. It too shared the family fortunes, feasting when times were good and starving when shekels were few.
Death visited their humble home and called away good old Simon, the father. So the widow was left with her four orphan children, of whom Joseph was the youngest. He was a sprightly, affectionate boy, always active and willing to help, always happy and smiling. Yet his was a thoughtful heart, and
19
2O JOSEPH'S DREAM.
he looked out into the future and planned a high and holy calling for himself.
He was sitting in the doorway at his mother's feet. The evening meal was finished, and the industrious widow was seated with a piece of the curious Eastern needle-work before her. The twilight was fast departing, and she laid down the work and placed a tremulous hand upon the soft, dark tresses of her boy.
" Joseph, my son, they are taking you from me far across the great sea. But I can trust you, my child, my youngest one. Be true to the teachings of your father ; be faithful to the holy Virgin and to your patron St. Joseph ; and the infant Saviour will love you and never forsake you."
" Mother," said the boy in a low voice, " why must I leave you ? Simon does not need me. He is a big man and I am but a little boy. I would better love to stay here with you and my sisters."
" My poor child, since your father's death your brother Simon is the head of the family ; and he thinks it best for you to go with him to that great free land they tell us of, where boys and men can make much money. Here we are very poor and in debt. If you and your brother can do well for yourselves and help me to pay our debts, will it not be better for us all ? O my little one, my Joseph, my Benjamin, it breaks my heart to part from you — and yet, it is best, it is best. God will surely befriend you in that strange land."
She stooped over and kissed him lovingly, tenderly, while large tears ran down her cheeks and sobs choked her voice.
A harsh voice called : " Joseph !"
The boy started up and ran quickly to where Simon stood unloading an unwieldy cart laden with packages of various sizes and shapes.
" Here !" said the latter roughly ; " why are you always worrying the Mother with your foolish whining? Jump about quickly and help me, for we must be ready to leave to-morrow before noon."
The child grew very pale ; he bit his lip and made no reply,
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 21
busying himself with carrying in the bundles his brother was unpacking.
Before his father died, no one had ever thought of scolding him ; but now all was changed. The older son had stepped quietly into his father's authority, and the gentle, timid mother was afraid to check him. So he had forced from her a consent that Joseph should go with his cousin and himself ; for they had promised to join a party of friends and neighbors who were going out to America to sell the wares of the Holy Land. There was no chance of making a living in Bethlehem, he said, and they were already burdened with debt. In the great world beyond the seas they would soon get rich, and they would come back and live like the English lords when they travel.
The boys were very much alike in a way, yet strangely dissimilar.
Simon was about twenty-one, tall, erect and graceful. His complexion was swarthy, his eyes and hair very dark, his nose aquiline, the lower part of his face heavy-set and muscular.
Joseph too had the complexion and hair of his race. But his eyes, fringed by long black lashes, were of a dark hazel tint ; and his skin, though dark, was transparent and easily varied with his emotion from a creamy paleness to a crimson flush. His mouth was small, and his nose and chin delicately chiselled.
Late that night as he lay asleep in his little cot, with the starlight through the open window throwing a gentle radiance upon him, his mother crept stealthily into the room. She leaned over him and saw that his placid face bore the traces of tears. His hands were joined and, tightly clasped between his fingers, was the well-worn rosary she had taken from her husband's hands after his death and given to her youngest child.
She kissed his eyelids, his rosy mouth, his little brown hands, murmuring : " Holy Joseph, protect my fatherless boy ; Holy Virgin, keep him pure ; Sweet Jesus, have mercy on him !"
The child smiled in his sleep. He dreamed he was in the Holy Cave with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. The Virgin Mother had put her Babe into his arms and allowed him to kiss the lips
22 JOSEPH'S DREAM.
of the Divine Lord. Then he thought St. Joseph said kindly : "Little Joseph is my namesake; he shall be a brother to the Holy Child Jesus. He shall live to preach His Gospel, and to break the Bread of Life, unto those who hunger for It."
H.
High Mass was over ; and the crowd was slowly filing out through the narrow portals of St. Joseph's Church in one of our populous cities of the South. It was a poor little weather-beaten edifice, half-brick and half-frame, in which the Catholics of that portion of the city had worshipped for nearly twenty years. They often laughingly called it Bethlehem. But although stable- like in its exterior, within all was light and fragrant of burning incense. The altar was radiant, and the aisles echoed to the same stately hymns that have charmed royal ears in the cathedrals of other lands.
The little old church is now torn away, and a handsome Gothic pile occupies its place. But it is not too late to chronicle one sweet act of mercy which was commenced within those humble walls, hallowed by so many sacred memories.
Two ladies in deep mourning, Miss Fitzhugh and her sister, were slowly proceeding down the aisle. Suddenly Martha, the younger of the two, called her sister's attention to a child kneeling in a sheltered corner near the confessional. He was clad in a coarse woollen suit, and his feet were encased in heavy boots several sizes too large for him. His little hands were bronzed by the sun and roughened by exposure to the cold weather. But these signs of toil and poverty were not what had attracted her notice ; it was the expression of his face.
He clasped in his hands an old rosary ; and his eyes were fixed with rapturous devotion upon the little crucifix, held between his thumb and forefinger. His face was pale, but placid. Great tears streamed down his cheeks and splashed unheeded upon the sacred image.
As Miss Fitzhugh glanced toward him, he reverently blessed himself and rose to leave, when he met her kind eyes fixed upon
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 23
him. She had scarcely time to catch in return a pleading, sorrow- ful look from the large brown eyes, before she saw a young man roughly nudge the boy and push him forward. The little fellow hesitated, glanced at the ladies and said a few words to his com- panion, who replied with an angry scowl and hurried him away.
This is what the boy said : " That sweet lady has eyes like the Mother, like the Holy Virgin. I want to speak to her. Please, Simon, let me speak to her."
" No, Joseph, you act like a simpleton. What has the strange lady to do with you ?"
By this time they were outside the church. Another young man, whom they called Cousin John, was with them ; and thus the three Arabs hurried away, little Joseph running and limping painfully to keep up with the swinging stride of his companions.
" What a beautiful child !" said Miss Fitzhugh, as the sisters walked thoughtfully homeward. "His great, dark eyes haunt me, and I believe he wanted to speak to me. Did you see how roughly that man hurried him away? I know the little fellow was speaking of us."
Several times during the day she alluded to the little scene, and said : " That child is surely in trouble ; I know it. His sad eyes follow me, and I cannot keep them out of my mind. I will speak to him, if we see him again."
Martha, finding that the subject really distressed her sister's tender heart, tried to laugh away the thought of the poor Italians, as she supposed them to be. But her gentle ridicule had not the desired effect.
That afternoon, at Vespers, Miss Fitzhugh prayed for the stranger and asked St. Joseph to help her to befriend the poor child. " For I know," she said, " his little heart is in sore dis- tress, and he must be a good child to say his beads with such tender devotion." Finally she concluded that the good Saint probably knew more about the poor little fellow than she did, and that he would certainly help her to find him and comfort him in some way or another. Hers was a simple childlike faith into which no shadow of doubt ever entered.
24 JOSEPH'S DREAM.
Several weeks passed before another glimpse was caught of the foreigners. Then again they were seen in the vestibule of the church, one morning after Mass. Miss Fitzhugh' had no excuse to speak to them ; but she caught the boy's glance and gave him a radiant little smile that warmed every corner of his lonely heart and brought the bright, glad light into his sorrowful eyes.
A few days after, she met him on the street with a heavy basket of small articles, which he was peddling about the city. She examined his wares, bought a few trifles, and then questioned him about himself.
A child's instinct is rarely mistaken, and Joseph knew he had found a true friend. In broken language, for his English was not yet very intelligible, he told her how he and his brother and cousin had come from Bethlehem. He told of his mother and
•
sisters at home, and of their wants and hopes.
She conjectured that he was badly treated by his brother and cousin, and that he was overworked. He was plainly so foot-sore that he could scarcely walk ; and, worse than all, she found that he was heart-sick and home-sick for his mother and his quiet, peaceful home so far away. That he had refined instincts and aspirations above his station, perhaps unintelligible to his companions, was easily seen ; and the tender, womanly heart of his new friend was at once enlisted in his behalf. She determined that he should be cared for and protected. Giving him her address, she told him to come to see her and tell her all about the Holy Land ; and she would show him pictures of the holy places near his home and of the Saints he loved.
He thanked her, and his expressive eyes sparkled with pleas- ure and gratitude.
Miss Fitzhugh was not wealthy. Indeed she was poor, if we may call one poor whose heart is overflowing with holy thoughts and generous impulses. But she determined to enlist her friends and interest them in this poor, home-sick, desolate child.
He came to see her, as he had promised. She drew from him his whole simple story — his father's death, the parting with mother and sisters, the ocean voyage in the reeking steerage of an emigrant
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 25
ship, the cities they had visited, the rebuffs they had met with, the wearisome tramps, the cheerless lodgings where he had to be cook and porter and drudge at night, after a long, weary day of toil and travel. And finally, with sighs and blushes, came the heaviest, hardest trial of all, his longing to study and learn so that he might grow up to be a priest.
" I know so little," he said sadly, " and I grow so fast. It will take many, many years to make me wise enough, and I shall soon be a man."
Miss Fitzhugh showed him some pictures of the Holy Land, ^nd of the Blessed Mother and the Saints. From these he picked out one of St. Joseph and fervently kissed it. After the Blessed Mother, St. Joseph was his favorite Saint.
This was a very happy day for the little Arab. After a gen- erous repast, he took his leave and, running lightly down the steps, hurried back to his brother's poor lodgings.
Miss Fitzhugh went at once to work devising plans to help this little waif, who had crept so suddenly but surely into her compassionate heart. She learned that he could enter a Catholic night-school in the city. She raised means to clothe him nicely, so that he might present a neat appearance among the other boys. All things were looking bright for the little Arab when, suddenly, he disappeared.
m.
For several weeks Miss Fitzhugh waited in hopes that Joseph would visit her again. Her heart was heavy with fore- bodings of trouble for the child.
At last she met him in a part of the city remote from her dwelling. He was carrying a heavy basket, his face was paler and thinner, his eyes looked unnaturally large, and his steps were weary and lagging. A pathetic look of quiet endurance was on his face.
When he saw his kind friend, the warm blood rushed to his cheeks and his eyes grew bright with joy.
" Well, my little Joseph," she said, " why did you never come again to see me ? I have good news for you. I can help you to go to school and learn ; will not that make you happy ?"
RSSBMPTIOH 1IOSITY LIBRRRY
26 JOSEPH'S DREAM.
He blushed and hung his head, a furtive look crept into the frank eyes, and he painfully stammered some trifling excuse. Finally he told her that his brother had forbidden him to see her again, and had even beaten him for asking to go to her house. He would never consent for him to ro to school. It was no use to ask.
" I will see your brother," said the lady resolutely. " Per- haps he fears I am not a true friend to you and will do you harm."
Procuring Simon's address, she sent for him on the plea of important business. He came, and was at first surly and dis- agreeable. But finally, thawing out under her genial manner, he consented to let his little brother enter the night-school.
They could not spare him, he said, .for his work was worth much money to them and they were very poor. People bought much from him because he was little, and they pitied him. He was too useful on the street to waste his time going to school ; but he might study at night.
The crafty, selfish expression of the older Arab impressed Miss Fitzhugh far more unfavorably than anything she had learned from Joseph. She secretly resolved to free the child, as soon as possible, from the tyranny of his unnatural brother.
Little Joseph entered the night-school, where his polite, gentle manners, his earnestness and attention, won all hearts. The boys loved to gather round him during recess ; they never tired of hearing him recite verses and prayers in his native tongue. He was remarkably bright. Every one that conversed with him remarked what a fine mind he must have to learn so readily, to understand so quickly, a language which a few months ago had been entirely new and strange to him.
About this time John, who was a most plausible fellow, came frequently to see Miss Fitzhugh concerning his little cousin. He finally procured admission for himself to the night-school, where his graceful and insinuating manners and his ready wit won him many admirers. Bat Joseph always seemed ill at ease with him ; and one could detect a nervous, frightened look about him as if
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 27
he were continually on the lookout for a pinch or a blow. His lessons were never so good nor his manners so free when John was watching him. Still, he learned fast and won friends every day. Whether it was his bright, intelligent face or his large, sorrowful eyes, or his quick, attentive manner, I know not ; but there was a charm about the little Arab that proved an " open sesame" to all hearts. He had been fitted up in comfortable clothes, such as are worn by American boys in ordinary life. With his neat suit, hi& clean, shining face, and his soft, dark curls crowned by a red Turkish cap, he made an attractive picture. But the life of hard, grinding toil never ceased. Day by day he grew paler, thinner, more ethereal-looking.
IV.
One Sunday evening, Joseph came to see Miss Fitzhugh, and she noticed that he limped painfully. She asked him if he were tired.
"Some," he said quietly, sinking into the chair to which she motioned him.
Presently she glanced up and saw that, although his face was calm and placid, great tears were streaming from his eyes and his hands were tightly clasped as if in pain.
" My poor child, what is grieving you ?"
"My feet are very bad," he said. "I can hardly walk. Yesterday I walked, walked, \valked all day ; and when I came home at night, I had only sold five cents." Here he held up his five fingers with a little grimace of disgust, which would have been amusing had it not been so pitiful.
Meanwhile Martha, who had quietly left the room, returned with a basin of warm water and Castile soap, a little box of salve, and soft towels.
" Joseph," she said, " I am going to bathe your feet. No, no, you must not move " — for the boy blushed and stammered, putting out his hands to prevent her. " Don't you remember how our dear Lord washed His disciples' feet ? and don't you think it will please Him for me to wash and anoint your feet?"
28 JOSEPH'S DREAM.
While she 'was speaking, she had unfastened and taken off his shoes and stockings. Swollen, discolored with bruises and sores, the poor feet were indeed as he had said, " very bad." It was a mystery to her how he could bear his weight upon them. Her face grew dark with indignation as she thought of the cruel men who could allow a child so to suffer. But she tried, with her wonted gentleness, to banish the uncharitable feeling, remembering
that
Evil is wrought by want of thought As well as want of heart.
Very tenderly she bathed and dried the poor swollen feet, spreading a soothing ointment with a soft linen cloth on the wounded places. Then she replaced his shoes and stockings. They were very much too large, else he could not have borne their pressure.
" Sister," she said, " this is frightful ; something must be done. His brother must be forced to let us get the child a home."
" Do not tell my brother," pleaded the child ; " he will beat me for letting you know."
" But, my boy, you cannot continue walking with your feet in this condition. Only yesterday a good lady told me she would give you a home with her for a month, until something better can be done. You might stay with us, but we have only these two rooms and could not make you comfortable. Miss Halleck is a good kind lady. She is not rich, but she can give you a little room and you can pay your board by helping a bit in the kitchen. And then you can have more time to study. You can still go to the night-school, and she will take you to church and to Sunday-school with her."
The lad's eyes brightened a moment. Then the old helpless look came back as he said : " My brother will never let me go to her. It is no use, no use."
" I will see him this very day," replied Miss Fitzhugh ; and, suiting the action to the words, she donned her bonnet and wraps and started out with Joseph to find his brother.
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 29
Simon scowled at the boy, and spoke a few words in Arabic. Joseph with a mute, frightened look shrank away from his kind protector and retired into a corner of the room. The lady explained her errand, and at first met with a decided refusal.
" No, he cannot go. We are very poor, we need him. It is for his good as well as ours to work. He is strong and well. He walks lame to make people sorry for him ; you should see how fast he can walk when he is with me." Here Simon laughed sneer- ingly. " O madam, you do not know that boy. You think him a little saint because he says his beads and weeps, and because he talks soft. Oh, but he is an idle, deceitful young" — here he stopped for a word, and finally brought out what he evidently considered the climax of a terrible accusation in America — " dude — an idle, whining young dude."
The winding up of this oration was so irresistibly funny to Miss Fitzhugh that, indignant as she was, she laughed heartily. It was the best thing she could have done. Simon accepted her laughter for approbation. He became mollified, and gradually yielded to her persuasions to let the child have at least a month's rest with the kind lady who offered him a home. It was settled that he could go at once.
I know not who slept the most soundly that night, Joseph in his soft downy bed in his new home, or Miss Fitzhugh and her sister on pillows which surely ought to have been blessed by happy dreams.
The next day Simon and his cousin came together and explained that they could not let Joseph stay away from them, unless they could be promised five dollars a month to recompense them for the loss of his services. Deceived by their plausible words, Miss Fitzhugh agreed to this demand. It was impossible for her to do so unaided ; but such was her faith that she felt certain the means would be forthcoming to pay for the child's liberty. She had already embarrassed herself in assisting him, but heretofore she had found her friends glad to advance her charitable designs. She felt confident of their continued gener- osity.
3O JOSEPH'S DREAM.
When she told them of this new imposition they were very indignant. What, were the selfish, crafty fellows not grateful to have the poor child cared for, clothed, and educated? How dared they attempt to extort money from her on such a silly pretext ?
Poor little Miss Fitzhugh was fairly overwhelmed by the tempest she had evoked. But Providence came to her assistance, and before the end of the month she had means to keep her •promise to Simon.
She told him decidedly, however, that her friends had deter- mined to have the boy taken care of, and that under the laws of this country he could be punished for cruelty to children. At this he flew into a terrible rage and went away scowling and muttering : " She will get the worst of it yet, for meddling with that good-for-nothing boy."
V.
Joseph will never forget that happy month with Miss Halleck. How quickly sped the days sweetened by prayer and study and light, cheering toil. He was kept busy assisting the elder ladies of the family just as he had been taught to help his mother. With his deft, tidy ways he accomplished a thousand trifling things that are never noticed until the omission of them recalls their great necessity.
Often he would tell them of his distant home, of the great Convent and Church of the Nativity, of the holy places in Jeru- salem, and of the pilgrims from all over the world who flock incessantly to the scenes of our Saviour's birth and death and resurrection.
"And just to think," Miss Halleck would often say, "our little friend here has played hundreds of times in the hills and valleys of that holy land, his feet have walked over the very spots hallowed by the footprints of our Lord Himself. O Joseph, how- much you must love your home !"
" Yes, I love my home — my poor, humble, holy Bethlehem. How happy we should be if our land were free as your America is."
JOSEPH'S DREAM. 31
He never tired of geography, but studied it greedily. He would hunt for the map of the world and trace with his finger the long route he had journeyed over. He would linger along the shores of Italy and Southern France, then out the Mediter- ranean and across the Atlantic into the harbor of New York. When he reached that city, a sad, frightened look would come into his eyes, as though painful memories were aroused.
" I like it not — it is a great place ; but oh, the noise !" and then he would clap his hands to his ears as if to shut out a deafen- ing roar.
He was quick and agile in every movement and full of gesticulations ; indeed there was scarcely an emotion that he could not portray with the joint movements of hands and eyes.
The beginning of another month brought a new change into the boy's life. Mrs. Lee was an amiable widow lady with two daughters, living in a charming country home a few miles from the city. She had seen Joseph and heard his story. She became very much interested in him, and offered to give him a home as long as he should need it.
Here he was in another quiet, refined Catholic family. Under the gentle influence of these kind ladies, the child's mind expanded like a beautiful flower opening to the sunshine. At the same time, the pure, invigorating country air brought back the roses to his wan cheeks and the buoyancy of childhood to his limbs. The poor home-sick boy became deeply attached to his new friends, and they in turn grew very fond and proud of their young ward.
Meanwhile, Miss Fitzhugh was enjoying an animated corre- spondence with a New York priest — the Father of blessed memory for homeless boys. It resulted in securing a permanent home for the poor child.
Mr. Barry was a gentleman of charitable disposition and some little means. He interested himself in the case, and promised to help Miss Fitzhugh who was always fearing the trouble they might have with the older boys. They had lately grown very abusive and threatening.
32 JOSEPH'S DREAM.
Mr. Barry went to the Orphans' Court of the Southern State, told the whole story, and asked to be appointed the boy's guardian. The authorities replied that such a step was unnecessary, there being no property involved. They directed him to act as he thought best for the child's welfare. Accordingly, he fitted Joseph out nicely and took him with himself to New York. He parted with him only after he had placed him safely in the Father's mission school, under the patronage of the Immaculate Virgin.
Joseph's leave-taking of his friends was very touching. Miss Fitzhugh and her sister were at the depot to bid him " God speed !" Martha stood a little behind her sister, carefully hold- ing a small basket packed with cakes and fruit. Joseph greeted them with the innocent affection of a little child. But the New York train was ready, and so he followed his guardian into the coach. He sat gazing back as long as the ladies were in sight. At last, as he turned his head from the window, his eyes were full of tears.
VI.
Joseph's journey to New York had taken place while his brother and cousin .were out of the city on one of their periodical tramps, peddling through the adjacent counties. On their return they learned what had happened, and were furious.
John was particularly disagreeable. He appeared several times at the door of Miss Fitzhugh with surly, downcast counte- nance and threatening language. He commenced dogging her footsteps. He appeared suddenly at the most unexpected times and places. At last, fairly worn out with his persistence, she threatened to appeal to the police for protection. He in return declared he would take his grievances to the Turkish minister.
A few days after this last threat, the ladies were startled by a summons to the parlor. It was from a gentleman whose name was not familiar to either of them. He introduced himself as the Secretary of the Turkish legation. He explained his visit by saying that he came to inquire into the case of a little Arab whom they had befriended.
The Secretary was accompanied by his wife, a gentle little
JOSEPH'S DREAM.
33
foreigner. He was himself of French training and marriage, and his manners were extremely suave and polished. He apologized profoundly, in his broken English, for disturbing them.
" I wish not to trouble you," he said, " or to cause you any uneasiness. But these boys, these Arabs have complained to the minister, and he directed me to investigate." He then listened attentively, while Miss Fitzhugh related the whole story.
When she finished there was a suspicious moisture in the bright eyes of the French lady. She murmured, "Poor child, poor child !"
It was the critical moment. The Secretary arose, looked doubtingly at his wife, and then grasped Miss Fitzhugh's hand impulsively :
"Allow me, madam, to say you have done a noble work. God will bless you for it. I promise you shall not be again annoyed by these men."
The trial was over ; he kept his promise.
Long afterward, poor, frightened, yet firmly charitable Miss Fitzhugh learned that the two cousins were living honest, indus- trious lives. What was more — it is a side-light on the Oriental character — they had at once begun corresponding regularly with little Joseph in his New York home !
And now for Joseph's dream which came to him as he left, perhaps forever, his own and the Christ-Child's birthplace ?
In far Bethlehem, his mother's heart is comforted ; for he is safe. The child who has inherited from her the blood of the desert wanderers cannot but chafe at times against the confinement of school. But when the longing for home and mother swells his heart almost to bursting, he knows to whom to go for comfort. His Christian mother and his dream in Bethlehem have taught him. For in the Holy Family of Bethlehem — with the Divine Child Jesus and His Virgin Mother Mary and His foster-father St. Joseph — the whole world can find their true home.
MOSAIC OP ST. APOLLINARIS PROM RAVENNA *(6TH CENTURY).
THE CHASUBLE.
By the Secretary of a Tabernacle Society.
"And thou shalt make a holy vesture for Aaron, thy brother, for glory and for beauty ... in which he, being consecrated, may minister unto Me in the priest's office." Exodus, xxviii. 2, 3.
r I THE more we look into the ritual of the Church, the more we are impressed by the deep significance of her ceremonies and accessories. The Church of Form, she is called ! How little do those who so name her understand the beautiful lessons of holiness and of truth she thereby teaches her intelligent child- ren. The pomp of a court is looked upon with awe, even in democratic America ; when we go abroad, we willingly join in and enjoy the least part of ceremonial to which we are admitted ; we watch, with intense interest, the customs handed down through generations, and we long to be acquainted with their significance. Can any court be more worthy of our attentive study than that of the Great King of Kings ? As we kneel before His throne, the lighted candles take us back in imagination to the Catacombs and show us there the courageous piety of the early Christians, which we are so slow to imitate. The floating incense calls to mind our own vocation to Christianity in the offering of the Magi to the Babe of Bethlehem, while it fills us with the spirit of prayer which we beg of God may be directed like incense in His sight.
34
THE CHASUBLE.
35
So with all other things relating to the service of the Altar, and more than all, with the Church Vestments, those robes ' for beauty and for glory ' in which the eternal priesthood minister unto God !
Most striking of these is the Chasuble, the last garment put on by the priest in celebrating the sacrifice of the Mass. He is vested in Amice and Alb, in Girdle, Maniple, and Stole ; then he places over all the Chasuble, embroidered with a cross to repre- sent that which was borne by Christ upon His sacred shoulders. It is a question much discussed among litur- gical writers, as to whether the Apostles and their immediate successors had distinct vestments for Divine Office, or whether they celebrated in ordi- nary dress. The latter was probably the case, though Cardinal Bona tells us that St. Peter's Chasuble was brought from Antioch to the Church of St. Genevieve at Paris, and there carefully pre- served.1 This, however, may have been his ordi- nary mantle which most certainly would have been held in great reverence by the early Christians.
I. HlSTOEY AND DEVELOPMENTS.
The word Chasuble — Casula — is thought by some, among others by St. Isidore, to be derived from " Casa " meaning a little house. In the thirteenth century it seems to have been identical with the Planeta and the Penula of earlier times, being the cloak worn by the Romans for protection against the weather and also in military service. There were two kinds, varying in adornment according to the wealth and position of the wearer ; that of the people, short and of coarse cloth, was called penula, while that worn by senators and dignitaries, of rich material and ample folds, was called Planeta. The Church retained the Planeta for her priests after it fell into disuse among the laity, as she has kept the Latin for her service though it is no longer a living language. 1 Rer. Liturg., p. 206.
(llTH CENTURY.)
36
THE CHASUBLE.
It is certain that it was early associated with the ministry. We read that at the dedication of the church at Tyre Eusebius thus addressed the Bishops : " Priests, beloved of God, who are clothed with the holy tunic, adorned with a crown of glory and covered with the sacerdotal robe."
St. Jerome, speaking of the dress worn by the priests and levites in the Old Law on entering the Temple, says : " Let us learn from this that we should not enter the sanctuary with the clothes of every-day life, but that the mysteries of the Lord should be treated with a pure conscience and proper dress."
When St. Germain was made Bishop of Auxerre in 419, after the ceremony of the tonsure came that of taking off the
vain ornaments of the time, to be clothed with the robe of religion — habitus reli- gionis. From this time authors began to speak of the sacred vestments as distinguished from those of the laity, but the exclusive adoption by the Church of the Roman robes of rank and position in the early days of Christianity may be dated from the end of the sixth century.
The Chasuble was not put in the number of sacred vestments till after the Stole and even the Alb and the Dalmatic had been counted among them. It is mentioned as such for the first time in one of the Canons of the Fourth Council of Toledo.
In the Latin Church, all wear the same Chasuble ; but among the Greeks the Chasuble of a Bishop has a number of crosses, while an Archbishop wears a different vestment altogether which is supposed to resemble the garment of our Lord during His Passion. In Russia, since the time of Peter the Great, even Bishops wear this garment, to the sides and sleeves of which are attached a number of little bells.
CHASOBLE OF ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY, FRONT VIEW.
THE CHASUBLE.
37
A circular or oval garment of ample dimensions, the Chasuble of the early Christians (old English form, Chesible or Chysible) completely enveloped the priest. It had no opening at the side, but only one for the head to pass through. This form without change is retained by the Orientals, Catholic or schismatic, but in the Latin Church it has been gradually modified. Most of the early monu- ments show us the loose round form ; but mosaics of the sixth cen- tury, which are known to be correct for the vestments, represent the Chasuble pointed back and front, though reaching to the feet.
In the collection of Buonnarnoti, St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. Lawrence Deacon, are clothed with planetae or Chasubles, sloping
into points.
The Chasuble of John XII.
in the curious mosaic formerly at the Lateran Basilica, and of which a copy exists at the Barberini Museum, is of the same shape. This dates from the year 960 and represents the Pope clothed with a tunic, bowing his head to receive from the hands of the deacons the Chasuble, which is sloped on the two sides and ends in a point back and front ; it reaches only to the knees.
In the twelfth century it was much cut and shortened in front and at the sides ; and, later, in the Rococo period all resemblance to the first type had disappeared. This excited much indignation among the writers of the day and attempts were made to revive the ancient shape; St. Charles Borromeo," in a pro- vincial council, ordered that the Chasubles should be about four and a half feet wide, and should reach nearly to the heels.
St. Thomas of Canterbury's Chasuble is described as three feet ten inches deep, and its shape formed the half of a perfect circle joined together; the seam was in front and there was no opening but the one through which to pass the head.
2 See November MESSENGER, 1890, frontispiece, for an excellent specimen.
CHASCBLE OF ST. THOMAS OF CANTERBURY, BACK VIEW.
38
THE CHASUBLE.
These changes of form seem to have come about naturally. The priest, robed in the ample Chasuble of the early centuries, needed deacons to assist him. In celebrating, he kept his hands beneath it during the Conftteor, after which the attendant gathered up the pliant folds and placed the Maniple on his arm. During the solemn parts of the Mass, when he needed the free use of his arms, the deacons had again to gather up the vestment. The Church, ever jealous of the least ceremony showing her antiquity, keeps in her service this act of the deacon though it is no longer neces- sary. For how many interesting facts and customs are we not indebted to her?
Another reason for the change of form may have been the introduction of the Latin cross. Its straight lines could not well be preserved on the flowing robe of the early Church. In the Middle Ages, too, there was great difficulty in procuring pliant material, and as the vestments became rich with embroid- ery of gems and gold it was very necessary for them to be of portable shape.
It is a rather remarkable fact that these changes seem to have been the work of private individuals; there is no known decree of Popes or Councils which have sanctioned them.
The present form of Chasuble, though it has gained in con- venience, has lost much of the grace and dignity of that of the earlier times.
ABBOT OF ST. ALBAN8, (14TH CENTURY.)
ORPHREY, 14TH CENTVRY.
THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND."
THE LAST HOURS OF DR. LEVI SILLIMAN IVES.
> HE morning mail of November 7, 1890, brought me
a note with a letter from William Jefferson Guern- sey, M. D., of Frankford, Pa., a recent convert, which has occasioned the writing of this article and the postponement of the one promised on the spiritual side of Cardinal Newman's life.
The note, written in a feminine hand, read as follows :
" Bishop Levi S. Ives died in the communion of the Epis- copal Church. He publicly read his recantation of the Church of Rome. He died about 1867. This book [which contains the statement] dates 1884."
It was while Protestant Episcopal Bishop of North Carolina, during a visit to Rome, that Dr. Levi Silliman Ives resolved to become a Catholic. After his conversion he wrote The Trials of a Mind in its Progress to Catholicism as " a letter to his old friends and his late brethren of the Protestant episcopate and clergy." In his Introduction he gives us an insight of himself :
It is due both to you and myself, as it is more especially to the cause of God, that I yield to the promptings of my heart and conscience, and lay before you, as best I can, the reasons which have constrained me to take so serious, and to many dear ones, as well as to myself, so trying a step as that of abandoning the position in which I had acted as a minister of the Protestant Episcopal Church for more than thirty years, and as a Bishop of the same for more than twenty years, and of seeking, at my time of life, admission, as a mere layman, into "the Holy Catholic Church, " and with no prospect before me but simply peace of conscience, and the salvation of my soul.
Further on he tells vividly and candidly how the denial of Sacramental Confession by his Church made him doubt whether it was " an institution of God."
But the circumstance which at this period shook my confidence most of all, was the absence, in my view, of any instituted method among Protestants for the remission of post-baptismal sin. Sins before baptism were expressly forgiven in that sacrament. But for the remission of those committed after, however deadly,
4O THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND."
I could see in Protestantism no provision. That Christ left power in His Church to remit these 1 had no doubt. And for a time, after my mind had become alive to the importance of the exercise of this power, I believed that it existed and might be lawfully exercised in the communion of which I was a bishop. But upon stricter examination and more mature thought, I became convinced that if the existence of such power was not actually denied, its exercise, except in a very modified sense and within very restricted limits, was virtually prohibited. The discovery filled me with dread, which daily observation increased, till finally it passed into absolute consternation. No one. who has not been in my state, can fully appreciate my sensations, when I opened my eyes to the fact that multitudes around me, intrusted to my care, were goaded by a conviction of mortal sin and demanding relief, and I was not allowed by my Church to administer that relief in the only way which seemed to me to be directed by God's word as understood by His early Church. The question now forced itself upon me, Can that be an institution of God which thus locks up the gifts (supposing it to have received them) which He commands His priesthood to dispense to the needy and perish- ing souls for whom Christ died?
This state of doubt and fear awakened in my mind the inquiry, why I should not more thoroughly examine the ground on which I stood, and on which were based my hopes of eternal salvation ?
Doctor Guernsey's letter, enclosing the note printed above, asked these questions: "My DEAR FATHER:
"Is this story true? If not, can you inform me where I can obtain facts to contradict it?
"Very respectfully yours,
JEFFERSON GUERNSEY."
I was positively sure that the "story" was not true, but when appealed to for "facts," I was not so positive. I knew, however, where the facts could be obtained, and I wrote a few days after to Miss Isabel Shea, the daughter of the distinguished historian, Dr. John Gilmary Shea, enclosing Dr. Guernsey's note and letter to her. Miss Shea kindly sent me the following interesting answer :
"ELIZABETH, K J., November 26, 1890. "REVEREND AND DEAR FATHER:
" I was in the West with my father when your note reached Elizabeth, and I only received it on my return home. I gave the note and letter from your friend, Doctor Guernsey, to my father. He will, I am sure, give you the information you wish regarding Doctor Ives.
" The Ives family have been friends of ours for many years. I remember seeing the Doctor's grave in the Catholic Cemetery at
THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND." 41
Westchester, New York, some time ago. With very many kind regards, believe me,
"Most cordially,
"ISABEL SHEA."
The same mail, in which his daughter's letter came, brought one from Dr. Shea.
"ELIZABETH, N. J., November 22, 1890. "REVEREND AND DEAR FATHER:
" Dr. Levi Silliman Ives died in the house of Richard H. Clarke, Esq., brother of the late Father Clarke, S. J., at Manhat- tanville, N. Y. He was attended during his last illness by Mrs. Clarke and her sister Mrs. Fitzgerald, who held him up in his dying moments. So far as I can learn, he was attended by Rev. Mr. Breen, his weekly confessor for a long time.
" Mr. and Mrs. Clarke are still alive, as is Mrs. Fitzgerald, and a line from you to Dr. Clarke will obtain a distinct account of his last moments.
" Their statement can be verified by Mr. Edward Ives, of this city, who saw Dr. Ives constantly in his last days, and who knows that Dr. Ives sent for his two brothers, Protestants, and urged them to become Catholics.
" I had never heard the story manufactured by the evil- minded, but on inquiry, I find that it is not recent. If you can obtain an authoritative statement from Dr. R. H. Clarke and print it, you will render good service to the truth.
" Mr. Edward Ives will add what he knows from personal knowledge.
" With sincere regards, and a petition for your prayers, I remain, Reverend Father,
" Yours truly in Christ,
" JOHN GILMARY SHEA."
So far I had only sought personal satisfaction for the purpose of answering Dr. Guernsey; but Dr. Shea's suggestion "to print" the truth concerning the circumstances of Dr. Ives' death deter- mined me to write to Dr. Clarke and Mr. Edward Ives to learn the whole truth of Dr. Ives' death. It is due to Dr. Shea's hint that the MESSENGER readers are put in possession of testi- mony that vindicates the faith of the worthy Dr. Ives.
Meantime a kind note was received from Miss Shea, together with the subjoined letter written by Rt. Rev. Mgr. Preston,
42 THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND."
now Vicar General of New York and a dear friend of Dr. Ives long before the latter's conversion.
"Saint Ann's Church, "NEW YORK, November 23, 1890.
" The story about Dr. Ives is a calumny. He died an ardent Catholic. I saw him a few days before his death, and he could not find words sufficient to express the joy of his faith, nor the consolation of dying in the one Church of Christ.
" Yours very truly,
" T. S. PRESTON."
In reply to my letter Mr. Edward Ives wrote :
"ELIZABETH, N. J., November 27; 1890. " REVEREND AND DEAR FATHER :
" Your esteemed favor of the 21st inst. has just this moment come to hand, and it will give me great pleasure to see at once that evidence be sent to you from members of the family of Dr. Ives, even more closely related to him than I, proving the utter groundlessness of the report to which you allude.
" I lived near and was a daily visitor to the home of Dr. Ives, during the last days of his life. It was my privilege to receive his solemn blessing a few hours only before his death, in words such as only a most devout Roman Catholic could utter.
"The members of his own household will testify that he daily received the Blessed Sacrament during his last illness. They also remember the earnest appeal which he made to two of his Protestant relatives, who from a distance had come to visit him on his dying bed. Nothing could exceed the earnestness with which he charged them to examine and study the evidences of the^ truth of our holy faith. q™ qTH ^T* 1TH ^T* Vr*
" I have now lying before me a most beautiful book entitled Devotion to the Blessed Wrgin Mary, which at the time he directed to be sent to me. The presentation on the fly-leaf in his own feeble handwriting bears the date of August 21, 1867. ^T/H
"Of all the inventions of the enemy, surely not one can be more unfounded or more easily disproved than that Dr. L. Silliman Ives ever made a recantation of the Roman Catholic Faith.
" I remain, Reverend and dear Father,
" Faithfully your obedient servant,
"EDWARD IVES.
" To Reverend F. X. BRADY, S. J."
THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND." 43
Some days later the desired information was received from the learned author of The Lives of Deceased American Bishops, Richard H. Clarke, LL.D. Dr. Clarke's testimony, from the intimate relations which he had with Dr. Ives as will be seen in his letter, dispels forever any doubt, ignorantly or maliciously entertained, regarding the manner of Dr. Ives' death. The account tells more than that Dr. Ives died a Catholic. It gives us the beautiful scene of a Christian death-chamber where the soul of a great hero was passing out through earthly shadows up to the Eternal Light Whose guiding rays of inspiration and calling he had ,in prosperity and adversity, in storm and quiet, always conscientiously striven to follow. The calm and peaceful death, the ardent devotion, tender piety and simple faith, as described by Dr. Clarke, are in striking contrast to The Trials of a Mind, as Dr. Ives has himself so vividly depicted them in his own case in his work of this title ; but it is the usual reward with which God crowns the honest efforts of those who have ever kept their face toward Him. The following is what Dr. Clarke wrote :
"NEW YORK CITY, November 30, 1890. " DEAR FATHER BRADY :
" Your favor of November 26 informed me that it had been stated in a book, published in 1884, that the late Dr. Levi Silliman Ives who, after having been the Episcopal Bishop of North Caro- lina from 1831 to 1852, became a Catholic and was received into the Catholic Church at Rome in 1852, afterward, shortly before his death, had apostatized from the Catholic faith and had returned to the Episcopal Church. You ask me if I can .furnish any evidence as to the truth or falsity of this statement.
"As Dr. Ives resided in our family and was our daily asso- ciate as a member of my family from February, 1864, to the day of his death, October 13, 1867, my testimony as to whether he lived and died a Catholic or apostatized from that faith, ought to be of some weight ; and I can say from my own personal know- ledge and daily intercourse with him that, in his professed faith as a Catholic, his practice of every Catholic devotion and his fre- quentation of the Sacraments of the Catholic Church, he never faltered, deviated, or wavered at any time before and up to the day and moment of his death.
44 THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND."
"So far from apostatizing from the Catholic faith, he availed himself of every opportunity of making public and private pro- fession of it during his entire life. He had several severe attacks of illness, including his last illness, and during all these he fre- quently received Holy Communion, and he was a weekly communicant all the time. The Holy Communion was brought and administered to him while confined to his bed in my house, at least every week, by Catholic clergymen during the whole period of his last illness to his death, and on each of these occasions he went to confession.
" He received Extreme Unction and the last Sacraments just before his death.
" He was President of the Manhattan ville Conference of the Society of St. Vincent de Paul, and Vice-President of the Superior Council of that Society, during all this period and to the moment of his death. He was also during this same period Presi- dent of the New York Catholic Protectory and was its President at his death ; and after his death the Protectory managers adopted and had engrossed and printed resolutions of respect to his mem- ory. These resolutions hang on the walls of the Protectory as well as his portrait to this day, and a marble bust of him was made and now stands among the memorials of illustrious Catholics and Presi- dents of that Institution, in the main hall of the Male Depart- ment.
" Being now one of his successors as President of the Protect- ory, I see his memorials preserved there with veneration, weekly or oftener, in my official visits to that Institution. His remains and those of Mrs. Ives were buried in consecrated ground in the lands of the Protectory, and over them stands the monument erected in his honor by the Protectory after his death : and on this sacred spot memorial ceremonies in his honor have frequently been held since his death.
" During his last illness he was visited by many Catholic clergymen and, among others, by Archbishop McCloskey, after- ward elevated to the Cardinalate, who celebrated Mass in his bed- room for him, and then and there administered Holy Communion to him, shortly before his death. This scene was very impressive on account of the high dignity of the officiating minister, the eminence of the dying man and his profound devotion and child- like piety, which remained conspicuous in him to his last breath ; and because there hung on the wall of his bedroom and over the little altar, which was erected for the occasion, a copy by McClel- land of the famous picture at Rome of the Communion of St. Jerome. All present were struck with the resemblance between the last Communion of Doctor Ives and that of St. Jerome, both
THE END OF "THE TRIALS OF A MIND." 45
of them being aged and infirm, and requiring from weakness to be held up by their sympathetic and venerating friends, in order to receive the Blessed Sacrament.
" During his last sickness Doctor Ives was visited by his two brothers from Wallingford, Connecticut, one of whom was a Pro- testant minister, and perhaps both. On this occasion, he requested Mrs. Clarke and the other members of my family to be with him during their presence in his room, and when all were standing around his bed, he solemnly made a profession of the Catholic faith, with a loud voice ; and, in the presence of his two brothers, he pronounced his adherence to the Catholic Church, his commu- nion with the See of Peter, and his determination to die a Catholic. This was a few days before his death. He continued to repeat these sentiments during his few remaining days and up to the hour of his death.
" He received Catholic burial from St. Stephen's Church in New York City, at which Cardinal McCloskey pronounced his eulogy. His remains were afterward interred and still lie at the Catholic Protectory in consecrated ground. To all who have the least acquaintance with the laws of the Catholic Church, it is well known that none but persons dying in the Catholic faith can receive the Sacraments on their death-bed, or have Catholic burial, or be interred in consecrated ground.
" Doctor Ives never for a moment wavered in his Catholic faith, but professed it every day of his life, and during his last illness to the moment of his death. He was very devout ; he said the Rosary and other prayers every day ; and his faith throughout his entire life was like that of a child, implicit and undoubting.
" I had heard, before receiving your letter, that it had been asserted in some published work that Doctor Ives had apostatized from the Catholic faith before his death, but I have never seen the work or the statement in print.
"I hereby, of my own personal knowledge, pronounce the statement to be utterly false.
" I remain sincerely and respectfully yours,
" RICHARD H. CLARKE."
In the presence of this array of eminent witnesses, men of more than national reputation and distinguished alike for their learning, for their loyalty to religion, for their love of truth and for their personal honor, who will have the hardihood, in future, to deny that the venerable Doctor Ives died the truly edifying death of a fervent and loyal Catholic ?
'
EUCHARISTIC THOUGHTS.
By the Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J. I.
A SAINTLY and exquisitely gifted Frenchwoman, whose ^~j^ letters and journals, meant for no eyes but her own and her brother's, have nevertheless made her already a classic in the literature of her country — this Eugenia de Gu6rin writes somewhere in her Journal : Oh, quel don! Que dire de VEucha- ristie ? Je n'en sals rien. On adore, on possede, on vit, on dime ; I'dme sans parole se perd dans un abime de bonheur. " Oh, what a gift ! What can be said of the Eucharist ? We adore, we possess, we live, we love ; the soul, speechless, loses itself in an abyss of happiness."
That beautiful soul passed out of this world many years ago ; but the same devout joy that she felt in her country chapel in southern France is, thank God, felt at this moment by many a beautiful and holy soul in convent chapel or in public church in thousands and thousands of places over all the world. With these pure and fervent souls I now unite my poor tribute of praise and prayer. O Lord, infuse Thy love into my heart, that I may adore Thee under this sacramental disguise as I hope to adore Thee in Thy heavenly beauty and majesty for ever.
n.
I wish I could feel now, here at Thy feet, O Lord, the most burning love, the most vivid faith, the firmest hope, and the truest contrition that ever any heart felt before Thy tabernacle. But this would be the purest happiness, this would be heaven on earth, no matter what sweet sadness might accompany such holy feelings ;
46
EUCHARIST 1C THOUGHTS. 47
and I, being what I am and having been what I have been — how could I dare to expect such grace and happiness ? But at least I can be happy in the thought that there are many innocent and penitent hearts feeling this happiness at this moment in many a nook of this sinful earth ; and I can bless God with all my heart for the countless acts of faith and love that are now being made before so many tabernacles over all His Church.
III.
What is told of many of God's saints is not true of canonized saints alone ; there are even mortal creatures like ourselves whose presence is a sort of vicarious presence of God — whose voice, whose look, whose smile, whose very neighborhood, nay the mere thought of them, the remembrance that such beings exist, tends to purify, refine, and elevate the soul and to make what is vile and ignoble impossible, even in secret thought. And if this is true of some of God's poor creatures still on their probation, how much more is it true of the glorious company of heavenly citizens — of St. Agnes, St. Aloysius, and so many others of the special patrons of purity ! And what are all these to their Mother and their Queen, the Virgin of virgins, Mary Immaculate ? But if the Sun of Justice thus communicates His divine influence to His creatures and most of all to her who is "fair as the moon" — if her borrowed light, the moonlight of her smile, puts to flight unholy thoughts and all the demons of darkness : how transcendently must all this hold good of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ Himself, the incarnate God of Purity ! Nay, all this would have been true if God had never become incarnate, if Jehovah had never made Himself our Emmanuel, if God had remained (or had seemed to remain) far away. But He has not remained far away ; He has drawn near to us, very near, nearer than He was to the favored disciples in the Garden when He withdrew from them a stone's throw. And even this was not enough for the incom- prehensible yearning of our Saviour's love : He comes nearer still, and, not content with abiding in the tabernacle of our altars, He makes our very hearts His tabernacle.
48
EUCHARIST 1C THOUGHTS.
IV.
From how many sins and miseries has Jesus preserved us through the means of this sacrament from our First Communion — how many years back in the past ? From how many dangers will this sacrament continue to preserve us, on till our last viaticum — how many years (or days) forward in the future ? And the sacra- ment of purification which prepares for the sacrament of union — how many sins that we committed have been pardoned, and how many sins that we might have committed have been prevented, through the thrice blessed influence of the tribunal of penance, from the first trembling but happy confessions of our childhood long ago, and by the watchfulness and self-restraint which, please God, have linked confession with confession ever since, on to the last absolution to be received, as we pray and hope, with the most perfect dispositions on our deathbed which we think to be far away, as many a one has thought to whom death in reality was very near.
May the Food which makes the young heart chaste strengthen us in our dying hour, and in the strength of that Food may we reach safely the judgment-seat of our Eucharistic Lord Himself, Whose merciful Heart will then yearn (may Its yearning be satisfied !) to give His blessed Mother to us for ever as our nurs- ing Mother.
THE ALBAN HILLS. DISTANT VIEW FROM THE JANICULAN, ROME.
A VISIT TO THE FALLEN JUPITER.
sunny day in late October I was standing on the crest of the Janiculau where it rises up steeply from the western bank of the Tiber. Below me the yellow waters of the river wound lazily beneath the arched bridges and beside the palaces and churches, which also shone out yellow under the golden Roman sun. Along the hilltop to my right was the church and convent of St. Peter in Montorio. For this is the "golden mount" — Mons Aureus — of the Latin god Janus who, here in his stronghold, held the key of Rome against all the outer world. And this, as tradition has it, is the hill climbed by Peter, Christ's key-bearer of the kingdom of heaven, and the scene of his martyrdom. His power of the Keys, left to his successors in Rome, has opened the way hither to a universe the ancient Latins little dreamed of. Its sign for all time may be seen over there to the left where the giant dome of St. Peter's — the world's greatest church — lords it over the Eternal City.
Away to the east, a dozen miles across the Roman Field,
49
5O THE FALLEN JUPITER.
mountains sweep round southward in clear-cut prisms of blue and purple till they reach a last central summit and then sink down in gradual hills toward the sea. This distant peak has an outline as much its own as is a profile to a person's face. It stands half apart from the other mountains and hills that make up the semi- circle to north and east and south of the rolling Campagna, in the middle of which Rome has her seat. All the lines of the land- scape centre in it ; and the fishermen along a hundred miles of the western sea hail the white walls glistening from its height in the rays of the setting sun. Wherever we may go between the moun- tains and the sea, and wherever within the city a vista opens out across the plain, that one peak will draw the eye to itself.
It might also well draw the mind's eye to its story of three thousand years. If the traveller of a day who looks and passes, or who climbs to the broad platform upon its summit only that he may enjoy its view beyond compare, would take its lesson to
heart, i «
there ^^^^^^Hfc. 9 would be for him no need of other miracle to con- firm his faith in the Church whose Head bears the Keys of Peter. This is the moun- tain at whose foot lay THE LAKE OF ALBA- the long white walls of that Alba which was the mother of great Rome ; and on its summit for a thousand years, even when Rome had become mistress of all, the many cities of Latium met before the shrine of their Latin Jupiter. But all this has fallen from its
THE FALLEN IUPITER.
51
PALAZZUOT.O.
high estate, the religion of the ancient world and its material embodiment alike. Of Alba Longa not one stone remains above another ; and the worship of Jupiter and his idol gods has faded from the earth before the faith of Peter.
At last, in the crisp January morning, I went on foot to the top of the mysterious mountain. The path skirts the southern end of the Alban Lake before it plunges into the dense thickets of oak and hazel and chestnut along the mountain slope. The lake is sunk down into the earth like a huge bowl, and the banks descend over four hundred feet before reaching the motionless green sur- face of the water. There is no apparent outlet, but at the water- level toward the west there is an artificial channel tunnelled for a mile and a half through the tufa rock and discharging its waters into the Campagna on the other side of the hill. This is the famous Emissary, from seven to nine feet high and never less than four feet in width, which was made by the Romans at a time when they feared the waters of the lake might burst their banks and sweep down upon the plain. This was four hundred years before the birth of Christ ; and the work remains a marvel of
52 THE FALLEN JUPITER.
engineering which could not easily be accomplished with all the resources of our modern civilization.
Just above the Emissary, on the highest point of the ridge which thus holds the lake in check from leaping across the plain to the Tiber and the sea, is the square outline of the Pope's palace with the domed church and clustering houses of Castel Gandolfo. Directly opposite us, at the northernmost end of the bowl more than two miles away, the banks are somewhat lower. Over the outer corner Rome — a great modern city, into which lines of rail- way converge across the plain, but which is still lorded over by the overshadowing dome of St. Peter's — spreads its yellow streets in the middle of the brown Campagna.
But we must hurry on, though it is hard to know when we could have enough of such a place. Whole volumes could not con- tain all the thoughts which arise of themselves ; for from this semi- circle of land before us all the present history of the world has taken its rise. The very air seems to thrill with the fulness of its life.
From the eastern shore of the lake the Alban Mount rises up over two thousand feet. As the lake is nearly a thousand feet higher than the silvery sea glistening yonder, the pagan Jupiter must have been cast down from a throne over three thousand feet up in the sky. Perhaps he still lies beneath the waters of the lake. This mountain bowl is simply the crater of an extinct volcano ; and even within the memory of man, it is said, there have been tremors here as of some one below the waters laboring to upheave the solid earth. "When the world is wicked enough," the peasants say, " the volcano shall wake again to life and swallow up Rome and the world." And that the world will come to an end with the Rome of the successors of St. Peter, I think no one who rightly reads the history of this spot will doubt.
In a way, the mountain itself has made the land on which Rome is built. It should seem to have the right to reclaim it when the world refuses to leave Rome to fulfil the designs of Providence in making her the mistress, first of this Latin land and then of the entire known world, and finally the sure home and centre of God's faith on earth.
54 THE FALLEN JUPITER.
This peak, whose hollowecl-out profile is so peculiarly its own — and from this, perhaps, it has its name of Monte Cavo — is indeed only the great outer lip of a giant volcano that once burst its rim to westward and poured over all the rocks below the lava which has formed so much of the soil of the fertile Campagna.
Between the mountain and the lake, is a narrow tableland on which Alba Longa was built. Only the painful excavations of recent explorers could determine this, so complete had been the ruin of the city of which Rome was the colony two and a half thousand years ago.
Toward the southern corner of the lake, at the end of the tableland, there is the solitary Franciscan convent of Palazzuolo. In the winter, with two stalwart priestly companions from Venice, I had held my way straight up the mountain side. But I came out to this interesting foundation of the Middle Ages later on, in the flush of early summer. There is just room for the road to wind between the brink of the cliff, which in several places breaks away into deep chasms yawning startlingly at your feet, and the wall, in some places thirty feet high, which keeps the convent garden from sliding down into the lake. From every crevice in these gray stones grew snapdragon all in flower and clothing the long wall with a crimson flame.
There is a view of surpassing beauty from the platform in front of the church, across the lake to Castel Gandolfo, over the Campagna with great Mother Rome in its midst, and beyond all the silver line of the Mediterranean Sea. But these views, ever varied and yet ever the same in their changeless splendor to eye and soul, form the charm of all these hills.
This is one of the few convents which the present Italian Government has not seized, owing to the fact that it was the foundation of a Portuguese Bishop and so is under the protection of that Crown. Otherwise Humbert the First of United Italy would have shown here as elsewhere how, according to his latest boast, " he ever respects the religion of his ancestors." As it is, only a few friars remain on in utter poverty and loneliness. One — a pathetic figure, of more than fifty years in the rough gown
THE FALLEN JUPITER.
55
STREET CORNER, ROCCA DI PAPA.
and knotted cord and bare feet of St. Francis — gladly showed us a short-cut through the fields of Prince Colonna to the next station of our pilgrimage, on the carriage way which has been terraced round the face of the mountain.
This is the shrine, of great local fame, of the Madonna del Tufo, " of the Fallen Rock." Its name declares the miraculous
56 THE FALLEN JUPITER.
escape to which its foundation was due. The rich marble altars and numberless ex-voto offerings within the modest chapel, and the platform shaded by dark ancient ilex trees whence there is a view more stupendous than ever, declare that this is the home of faith and the land most favored of Heaven.
Up the road, which has been lately much improved by the comfort-loving Englishmen who have built their villas and spend ' their guineas here, is the quaintest town you well might meet. Rocca di Papa, named from some anti-pope of long ago, huddles up and around the slopes of a cone that stands off from the hollowed-out side of the mountain near its top. The houses seem literally to climb one upon another ; and it is no easy work to mount up the narrow paved streets on the few days in winter when the tramonta or north wind has congealed into frost and ice the mists which float up here from the sea.
Passing beyond the broken tower of the old citadel, we come out on a broad plain setting back into the hills. This is the Campo d'Annibale, from some traditional connection with the invasion of the Carthaginian leader. In late years it was used by the troops of Pius IX. as a summer escape from the heats, and here now encamp their usurping successors. The Pope meanwhile must breathe as best he can in his not too large garden of the Vatican far below.
But when, at last, after much puffing along the steep ascent, we reach the height and see the whole of the Latin land out- stretched below us, from the twin hills of Civita Vecchia at the northernmost point of the coast to the Circean Mount where Homer's Ulysses came at the south, Rome draws all our hearts to herself. Yes, this deserted spot tells us Jupiter is fallen ; and Christ and Peter, His Vicar, reign forevermore from Rome. The building behind us, it is true, tells also that the enemies of the Christian faith are powerful ; for within the past two years the Passiouist monks have been expelled from it in the name of " Free and United " Italy. But this is for the sake of having no religion at all, not for the false gods of old. Their overthrow, and the fact that the contest is henceforth openly between the faitli of Christ
THE FALLEN JUPITER.
57
and no faith, is the miracle wrought by Peter and his successors below there in the Roman Field.
As I turned to depart, the sweet tones of the Angelus floated up from Albano beyond the lake. The Angel of the Lord declared unto Mary . . . and the Word was made Flesh, and dwelt amongst us.
I remembered words written by an American traveller far back in the century when Rome was the Rome of the Popes, not only as now by the strong and unquenchable spirit of faith that will not down, but outwardly and publicly in the name of its government — the much belied Temporal Power of the Roman Pontiffs. This was Horace Binney Wallace, a lawyer of Phila- delphia, I believe, and an amiable writer though now forgotten. In this land of Italy, there was one thing above all others that drew his attention. It is the result of the century-old miracle of which this short sketch has depicted the scene. Jupiter is fallen. This is the laud of Christ and Peter, His Vicar, and of His Mother Mary. "Ihis is the land of the Madonna"
THE MORNING OFFERING. A FIRST DIALOGUE.
DISCIPLE. How easy it is for ideas to go in at one ear and out at the other. I have heard the main principles of the Apostleship of Prayer, and its organization in a universal League of the Sacred Heart, explained many times over ; and yet there are points on which I am always wishing for information.
Teacher. Can you get your ideas together, from time to time, so as to tell me briefly just where your difficulties lie? I might then be able to give you a talk a month, as I remember having done some three years ago.
Disciple. My difficulties are somehow all in a bunch. I will do my best to separate them.
I see that where the League is spread the habits of devotion — prayer, saying the beads, receiving the Sacraments — are very much increased among all classes of people, even among those who are not attracted by the more formal associations of the Church. And I also believe, as a Christian, that this accumula- tion of prayers on the part of so many souls for the same objects must have great power over the Heart of God. Otherwise, I could not believe in the power of prayer at all.
But I do not see clearly how it is that people take up so readily with the idea of praying in union with each other. It is hard enough to get men to understand practically any principles of faith. Now these principles of praying for certain intentions, and of offering one's own sufferings and works as so many prayers, do not seem to be the easiest things in the world to explain to any and every one. Yet I constantly see the people you would least suspect of being given to piety, taking up with the League and drawing great profit from it. It is like an effect without a cause, or rather with a cause I do not understand.
Teacher. We priests often find the simple faithful putting in practice what theologians find it difficult to explain in theory.
58
THE MORNING OFFERING. 59
This is sometimes from the direct Providence of God, stirring up a devotion in His Church for His own merciful designs. In that case, we usually come to understand how it is that His grace is working. The first spread of the devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus seemed very mysterious, and yet it was evidently designed to bring back Christian souls from cold indifference to a personal love for our Divine Lord. It is, perhaps, not too much to say that something of this kind is going on in the work of the League. Circumstances are such nowadays that many Christians are in great danger of forgetting about prayer almost altogether ; and the League stirs up an active public opinion in favor of praying. Then everybody is organizing together ; and here is a world-wide organization for getting people to pray together.
Disciple. Yes, I had got as far as that. It has always struck me that the Apostleship of Prayer is a great providential League for collecting prayers for the needs of the Church and her children, just as the Propagation of the Faith and the Holy Child- hood are Leagues for collecting alms for the foreign missions.
Teacher. This is so much the case that even the outward form of the Apostleship, as approved by the Church, is not that of a Sodality or Confraternity, but that of a League. It is governed by the same laws as the two zealous Associations you have named. They have Head Directors, under the one General Director, who issue Annals and have other means of communication with the different centres depending from them ; and we have our MES- SENGERS and Intention Tickets in all the different languages. They have their groups of contributing members with collecting heads, and special medals and insignia are used to distinguish them ; so we have our bands, with Promoters who wear the indulgenced Cross and Associates with the indulgenced Badge. Probably without this unity of organization the work of the League would never be done. For this reason the Church has made it a con- dition of the spiritual favors granted, that they can be gained only by those centres which remain united with the Head Direc- tion.
Disciple. I think you are coming to the point which puzzles
6O THE MORNING OFFERING.
me, though I must acknowledge the people seem to find it all plain sailing.
Teacher. That is because they are sensitive to the power of associated prayer. Their instinct of faith makes them desire to share in the prayers of so many Christians, united together in all the different parts of the world.
Disciple. I suppose that is it. I certainly have known several members of the League who, I suspect, would have done little praying if they had not had this desire of sharing in the prayers of the others.
But all this does not explain fully the success of the Apostle- ship of Prayer. True, its organization into a grand League encourages many to practise it ; but prayer is always a difficult thing, all the same. I wish to know how the League lightens the burden, rather than how it encourages its Associates to bear it.
Teacher. So you think it is a burden for most people to pray, even under the light conditions required by the League. Perhaps it is. Where precisely do you think the burden falls ?
Disciple. On the will of a man, and that all along the line.
You have first of all to will to remember to pray. The reason why lukewarm Catholics forget their morning prayers is regularly because they haven't a mind to remember them.
leaclier. Stop there, please. You go on the principle that no one likes to make an effort. And, to remember one's prayers requires an effort ; so the majority of men will not remember them. How then is the League going to induce them to make the effort ? That is very easily answered, even from a natural point of view. Your principle does not take in the whole truth. It should be — No one likes to make an effort without some reason ; but men regularly do make efforts when they see it is worth their while.
This is the principle the League goes on. It manages, by its popular organization, to make even unpraying people see that it is very much worth their while to pray, at least so far as the essen- tial condition it requires of them is concerned — the short Morning Offering at their morning prayers. The reason it gives them they easily understand : if they will pray this much for others, then
THE MORNING OFFERING.
61
innumerable others will pray for them. Even hard-headed Dr. Brownson says that one of the things which most affected him before his conversion to the faith was his having heard that Cath- olics were praying for him. And Dr. Pusey, who showed so many the way into the Church without ever entering it himself, is reported to have said sadly in his later days : " When I heard that the Catholics were praying for Newman (the late Cardinal) I lost all hopes of his staying with us ; they never prayed for me." There is but one family of man ; no man is indifferent to the prayers of others, especially when he has the faith to whisper to him his sore need of grace, which is obtained by prayer.
Disciple. I think you are running beyond the merely natural point of view. The need of grace is something beyond the natural man, isn't it?
Teacher. It is not at all beyond the natural reason of a man to know that he is in great need of something in face of death and an unknown future. Of course, it is only God's interior grace in the soul which can make this knowledge fruitful. But the League appeals to Catholics, who already have the grace of faith. However careless they may be, there is something to work on in them. They are sensitive to just such thoughts as this : if I will but pray a little — say the Morning Offering with my prayers — I shall receive help and blessing from God because of the prayers of all the other Associates, offered up for me on that condition.
But you must let me say that these easily understood motives of the League are not only for the careless ; they apply in their measure to the half pious, and to the wholly good. We must speak of this again.
THE READER.
*
With the New Year the MESSENGER brightens its face. The old features remain, but there is a livelier air about them ; and the wrinkles have been smoothed away. We speak of our new cover.
A mere magazine cover, destined to disappear in the binding, is not of the very greatest importance, to be sure ; yet it should give some sign of what may be expected within. And, to the end, there will be many who persist in "trusting to appearances" or — as the Latin proverbs warn them not to do — they "believe in the face of things, and trust too much to the color." Ne fronti crede! Nimium ne crede colori! Even a mere magazine cover, by its bright face as with a smile, may draw eyes to itself and to
the thoughts contained within.
* *
The exact name of our new cover paper is, we believe, rose antique laid ; which would be neither here nor there, were not rose color — the color of flame and of love — devoted to the burning love of the Sacred Heart of Jesus for men. It is also the color of hope ; and should not the heart of the MESSENGER beat high with hope, now that it has successfully outlived twenty-five years ? It is no easy thing for a religious magazine to live at all nowadays; it is so much easier for the magazines of this world to put on a bright face that quite carries away the hearts of easy-going men.
The features, we say, remain. Only now, through a window beside the Contents, are seen steps along the mountain side. Up these the various works put forward in our pages may lead the reader toward the Dayspring — the Orient from on high, as our Lord is called in the Christmas Scripture. Curiously enough, our dayspring is a real sunburst; and the pointed arches, through which all is seen, have trefoils to the capitals of their columns, and the cross above is quite a Celtic one. What is the harm? The race which owns these emblems will not grudge their use to
62
THE READER.. 63
all Christians. It is because it is a Christian race that it has them; and perhaps, because it is Christian, the MESSENGER can live here in America. The trefoil was St. Patrick's symbol of the Trinity Most Holy ; and where the Irish Cross has cast its shadow the heavenly sunburst — the Orient from on high — appeals to us all.
The article in the November MESSENGER on the Maronite Christians of Lebanon has brought us a letter containing correc- tions of the statements made and additional items of interest.
ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, FOEDHAM, K Y.
November £, 1890. REVEREND FATHEE :
I am a Marouite from Lebanon ; it has been my privilege and my good fortune to have been educated by the Jesuit Fathers of the Seminary of St. Francis Xavier at Ghazir and Beyrout. At present I am the companion of a missionary of my nation sent by our Patriarch, Mgr. John Peter el Haj, to take charge of our countrymen who have emigrated to the United States. As Maronite and student of the Seminary of St. Francis Xavier I have had opportunities to inform myself on all points regarding my nation, and the condition of the Reverend Jesuit Fathers who are among us. I have already published in the Catholic Review of New York, for September 20, an article entitled ' The Jesuits' University at Beyrout, Syria. '
Some inexactitudes having crept into the article in the MESSENGER on the Maronites on Mount Lebanon, I beg you to permit me to point them out so that they may be corrected in your next number.
In the first place the origin of the Maronites is quite well known. They were the first Christians enlightened by the preaching of the Apostles and notably of the Vicar of Jesus Christ, who established his first See in Antioch among the Maronites who were then called Syrians. It is of them that we read in the Acts of the Apostles : "The inhabitants of Antioch and of Cilicia and of Syria have received the preaching of the Apostles." They were known as Syrians until the seventh century.
As they would not allow themselves to be corrupted by the Monothelites, nor by the Jacobites and Nestorians, despite the efforts of the princes of Constanti- nople and the persecutions of these latter, they were called Mardaites, Rebels, and a little later, Maronites, which name they still retain.
In another part of your article you speak of the Chair of Law in the Semi- nary of Ain Ourakat. It never had a course of law, nor did any one ever study law there. [The Illustrated Catholic Missions published in Manchester, Eng- land, in the September number of this year, has this statement : " John Peter el Haj, the present Patriarch of the Maronites, was ordained priest in 1849, lect- ured for a few years at the same college (Ain Ourakat) on Mahomedan law, and formed many excellent lawyers." — EDITOE.]
The French Protectorate over Lebanon dates from the Crusades, from the time of St. Louis IX. especially. During the reign of Louis XIV., however, it
64 THE READER.
was exercised more effectively than before. The Maronite chief of whom the article speaks who was made afterward the French Consul at Beyrout, was the same who gave the Residence of Antoura to the first Jesuit Fathers. The Fathers had been cast by a storm on the shores of Lebanon -and the inhabitants at first took them for pirates.
The Convent of Loueizeh is not the Mother House of all the Maronite Monks. These monks, who all follow the rule of St. Antony, are divided into three branches. The Convent of Cozhara built near a cavern where St. Antony spent a number of years as an Anchoret is the Mother House of the 1st branch, which counts about 800 members. The 2d branch numbering about 350 monks has for its Mother House the Convent of St. Elias. Loueizeh is the Mother House of the 3d branch, the Alepin Monks who number about 80. The Feast day which reunites all the monks, the Solitaries as well as the Conventuals, is St. Antony's day, and the object is the renewal of vows. In general the novitiate lasts two years.
As for the Maronite rite, the article in the MESSENGER is quite wrong on one point. The Maronites consecrate with unleavened bread, and Communion is given under one kind exactly as among the Latins.
The Mariamettes and the Xaverian Brothers no longer exist. The Seminary at Beyrout is not called St. Joseph's Seminary, but the Oriental Seminary of St. Francis Xavier.
Speaking of schools and the efforts of the Protestants to proselytize, a Pro- testant minister came to open a school in a village near Beyrout. He was asked the object of his coming. "To open two schools," he replied. "Would not one school be enough for you?" was then asked. "Oh," said he to me, "I will open only one ; but the Jesuits will soon be after me to open another ; so I can truly say I am going to start two schools." He knew well that the Jesuits' • whole heart was in counteracting his efforts.
Your devoted servant,
JOSEPH YASBEK,
Maronite.
Among the works carried on at the MESSENGER Office, is one called the "Holy Childhood." This is a nineteenth-century way of conversion — to buy pagan babies, otherwise cast out to die, and make Christians of them. We heartily recommend it to all our readers. Practically, a cent a month is all that is asked to be paid in to the head of a group. Instructions and the little blanks, with all else needed, may be had on application.
GENERAL INTENTION
FOR JANUARY, 1891.
Designated by His Holiness, Leo XIII., with his special blessing, and given to His Eminence the Cardinal Prefect of the Propaganda — the Protector of the League of the Sacred Heart, called the Apostleship of Prayer — for recom- mendation to the prayers of the Associates.
DEVOTION TO ST. ALOYS1US.
A" the opening of the new year the Holy Father invites the Associates of the League to pray for the spread of devo- tion to St. Aloysius. As such devotion, if it be real, neces- sarily implies an imitation of the Saint's virtues, there could not bo an aim more worthy than that of spurring the minds of the young to follow in their lives the example of that holy patron of youth. The young of to-day will be the men and women of the next generation; and much of the progress of Christianity depends upon the preparation which they must make betimes for the acting of their part in the serious drama of human life.
I.
Aloysius Gonzaga has, for three hundred years, stood out before the Christian world as a blameless pattern of youthful holiness. His life covered but the short space of three and twenty years. And yet, within that narrow span, we find him giving sublime example of heroic virtue in prudence, fortitude, puirity, obedience, poverty, and mercy.
Even in early childhood he was noted for a wisdom far beyond the ordinary capacity of his age. At the very dawn of reason, he seemed to have caught the import of that message which the Spirit of God had sent down to the children of men. It is a proverb : A young man according to his way, even when lie is old, he will not depart from it (Proverbs, xxii. 6). Forthwith he set himself to learn and to practise the virtues which make up the honor of age and are the passport to everlasting glory. He
65
66 GENERAL INTENTION.
•saw ever shining out before him, in clear splendor, the noble end ibr which he had been created ; and the one aim of his life was to make earnest use of the means by which he could most securely attain it.
Belonging to a noble family and having every advantage that could help toward a brilliant career ; having, moreover, a father whose fortunes and successes made the way to a lofty station easy for his son to walk in, Aloysius, with noble intrepidity of soul, spurned all earthly glory and, with respectful firmness, stood out against the wishes of a parent whom he loved most .tenderly. The rank of a marquis, the fame of a diplomat, the :riches of a princedom — these things were as nothing to him who had set his heart upon securing the heavenly inheritance to which, ;at Baptism, he had received the title.
Difficulties stood in his way, manifold and great. But, with a grand firmness of purpose, he swept all opposition aside and strode on to the goal set before him. Even the sturdy determina- tion of his father to thwart what seemed to him an ill-considered project on the part of his eldest-born, had to give way in the end before the steady, unwavering valor of a youth still in his teens. And thus it came to pass that Aloysius, with his father's reluctant consent, gave up his titles, his riches, his worldly prospects, and was enrolled among the novices of the Society of Jesus in Rome. The novitiate, the house of studies, and the hospital were to be henceforth and until the end the sphere of his achievements.
H.
Young men, according to the world's standard, are estimated by the progress which they make in their chosen career. Here was one who always, in the judgment of the sagest, stood eminent among his fellows. In philosophy, in theology, in all things wherein depth of understanding and quickness of memory were of value, among the first stood Aloysius Gonzaga. He had even among his fellows the honors of a genius.
And yet he valued all this as naught beside the privilege of being considered one among the many who were working out the
GENERAL INTENTION. 67
will of God and trusting in God to make their labors fruitful. Thus he had brought himself down deliberately and, it might seem, unnecessarily, to the common plane of a common man, in order that he might lead others to follow him toward the higher plane of superhuman, that is Christian, prowess.
Aloysius Gouzaga in the Jesuit Novitiate was simply a unit. His titles, prospects, immense family influence counted for noth- ing : and he knew it. But he knew, as well, that the faithful walking in the path of duty was the one highway to honorable eminence before God ; and so he kept every rule that bound him. Thus he has won the full honor of perfect performance, in being declared blameless of all disobedience, a pattern of exact fidelity in the keeping of his rule. Thus, too, he led the way wherein others may follow. We must look up to Aloysius Gonzaga as a giant in the race wherein we are but stragglers. And we ask him to aid us by his prayers that we may keep on running — for some that began have dropt away !
III.
The Associates of the Holy League ought to have great con- fidence in praying for the spread of devotion to St. Aloysius. With their success his honor is inseparably bound up. It is won- derful, as well as edifying, to know how many Associations or Sodalities have chosen St. Aloysius for their Patron.
What does it all mean ? Just this. In these days of ours when sights of evil everywhere meet our eyes and when sounds of evil are in our ears, it will be a reminder and a help to look up to St. Aloysius Gouzaga as a perfect model of the guardianship of both ear and eye from all evil assault. Imitating him, we may hope to escape the evil influence of the numerous enemies that assail us. Under his patronage our youth will find those helps of grace without which they can never withstand the torrent of evil around them. Thus the spread of devotion to St. Aloysius, Patron of youth, will bring with it Christian modesty and morti- fication of the senses on the one hand, and on the other that grace of holy and blessed living which is won by prayer and the fre- quentation of the Sacraments. The unfailing result of our prayers,
68 GENERAL INTENTION.
which should be continued all this year — the three-hundredth anniversary of the Saint's death — will be a chaste generation like unto himself.
And it is well worth while to remember that young men fashioned after such a pattern will never be found lacking in what are specially looked upon as manly qualities. Aloysius was no mere lay figure set up to display the shapes and lineaments of holiness : he was a genuine, thorough-going, brave young man whose every action had a higher worth than what human eyes could look upon or human lips extol. Some idea of his character may be gathered from the inscription beneath the statue raised to his honor at the Hospital of Santa Maria della Consolazione in Rome. It reads thus :
"Whilst a plague was wasting the city, the holy Aloysius Gonzaga, of the Society of Jesus, took upon his shoulders one of the stricken and carried him to this hospital. Soon thereafter, smitten himself by the scourge of pestilence, he died a victim of Christian charity, in the year of our Lord, 1691."
Whilst, therefore, we pray that our Catholic youth may follow hini in his blameless life, we may also implore that they may be like him in Christian valor : the pure who are brave, and the brave who are pure, are the worthy followers of Aloysius Gonzaga.
OFFERING FOR THE INTENTIONS OF THE MONTH.
O Jesus, through the Immaculate Heart of Mary, I offer Thee all the prayers, work, and sufferings of this day for all the intentions of Thy Divine Heart, in union with the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, in reparation for all sin, and for all requests pre- sented through the Apostleship of Prayer : and in particular, for the spread of a true devotion to St. Aloysius, whom the Church has declared the Patron of youth. Amen.
TWO APOSTOLIC CIRCULARS.1 FROM THE RIGHT REVEREND BISHOP OF COLUMBUS, OHIO.
I.
COLUMBUS, ()., October 8, 1890. REV. AND DEAR SIR:
The 1 7th of this month will be the two-hundredth anniver- sary of the death of Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoque, the favored and holy instrument in the hands of our Lord to promote devotion to His Sacred Heart. It is my desire that this Second Centenary shall be celebrated in this diocese in a fitting manner. I wish that all the children that have reached the age of reason, shall consecrate themselves publicly and solemnly to the Sacred Heart, either on the 17th of October or the Sunday following, according to a form of dedication that will be sent to you next week, and that their names shall be inscribed on Lists, to be furnished you for this purpose, and sent to Rev. R. S. Dewey, S. J., MESSENGER OF THE SACRED HEART, 114 South Third Street, Philadelphia, Pa., who will have them bound into Albums and sent to Paray-le- Monial, to be placed in the shrine where the Blessed Margaret Mary breathed her pure soul into the hands of God.
If Sunday, the 19th, will be too soon for you to prepare your children for this important act, let everything be completed and the Lists sent to Philadelphia before the 28th of this month, as none will be received there later than the 1st of November.
You will please prepare the children for their Act of Conse- cration by special instructions, both in the schools and in the Church, on the nature of the devotion and the love of the Sacred Heart for all mankind. As many of the children as have made their First Communion should receive the Holy Eucharist on the day of Consecration, and if possible the rest should go at least to confession.
1 These Circulars, we regret for the sake of our readers during the past year of consecration to the Sacred Heart, came to our notice too late for earlier insertion.
69
7O TWO APOSTOLIC CIRCULARS.
I grant you the permission to have the children make the Consecration of themselves to the Sacred Heart during the Bene- diction of the Blessed Sacrament on any day yoii may choose for this purpose. You should expose the Blessed Sacrament and after the incensation and the singing of the O Salutaris, pronounce the words of the Form of Consecration, and let the children repeat them after you.
Ask the children to join with the other devout clients of the Sacred Heart throughout the world, in beseeching our Blessed Lord so to manifest the sanctity of His beatified servant, Margaret Mary, that, if it be His holy will, she may be entitled to the honor of canonization, for the greater glory of His Divine Heart.
I earnestly exhort you to cultivate the devotion to the Sacred Heart of our Lord among all your people, and to establish in your parish the Apostleship of Prayer called the League of the Sacred Heart. The Consecration of the grown people can take place later.
Yours in Christ,
©JOHN A. WATTERSON,
Bishop of Columbus.
II.
COLUMBUS, O., October 10, 1890. REV. AND DEAR SIR:
I send you some more of the Forms of Consecration to the Sacred Heart, together with the children's Lists and an envelope, in which to return them to Rev. R. S. Dewey, S. J., 114 South Third Street, Philadelphia, Pa. In filling the Lists, besides the family names, use the full baptismal names : e. g., Mary, Cath- erine, John, Charles, and not diminutives, such as Mollie, Kittie, Johnnie, Charlie. I now and then find such diminutives on the announcement books of some of our churches. They ought not to be used in the church or on the church records. Please place the name of the diocese, parish and town, or district at the head of the Lists, and keep the names of the boys and girls separate. If you have schools, the Sisters will be glad to write the names for
TWO APOSTOLIC CIRCULARS. 71
you. Do not confine yourself to the day-school and Sunday-school children. Get, if possible, all the young people in the parish to interest themselves in this work, and to make the Form of Conse- cration. Be enthusiastic yourself and try to excite enthusiasm in them for the glory of the Sacred Heart. Read and explain the Form of Consecration to the children before they make it, and dis- tribute copies of it among them. If you want more Lists, let me know, and I will send them.
Ask the Sisters in the schools to teach the children some easy hymns and prayers to the Sacred Heart, and get them all into the habit of using them frequently and devoutly, and the enthusiasm will not easily die out. It will be very edifying, if you can have the fathers and mothers present at their children's consecration. Make the ceremony as impressive as you can. Father Dewey will be very glad, if you will send him an account of it, to be published in THE MESSENGER OF THE SACRED HEART.
I earnestly recommend to you and to all under your charge THE MESSENGER OF THE SACRED HEART and The Pilgrim of Our Lady of Martyrs, otherwise called The Little Messenger of the Sacred Heart. The latter will be specially interesting and useful to the children. I have asked Father Dewey to be good enough to send you sample copies of them. They are most entertaining and edifying to ecclesiastics as well as lay people ; and you will be abundantly consoled for any trouble you may put yourself to in introducing them into your parish. Old and young will be delighted with them. The terms are very moderate. You will find them on the title-page.
In my circular the other day, I exhorted you to establish in your parish and missions The League of the Sacred Heart, other- wise called The Apostleship of Prayer. I do not wish you to ''treat this as a mere exhortation, but as a command, which the charity of Christ presses me to make, and which I know the same charity of Christ will press you to put into effect. Let us all say with St. Paul : Caritas Christi urget nos. To organize the League and keep it going will cost you some work and trouble ; but what are we for, but to put ourselves to trouble for the good
72 THE LEAGUE AT WORK.
of souls? Be assured, however, that the happy results in your missions will well repay you for all your zeal and pains. My heart is in the work, and I hope yours will be too, and I promise you, our Lord's will be in it likewise with many graces to your people and consolations to yourself.
To save you trouble at the outstart, I will send you some preliminary instructions and documents in a couple of weeks, together with a copy of the Handbook of the Holy League. A little study of it will show you how to organize the League and keep it alive and active. It will be of small use to start it, if it be not kept going. I want your heart to be in it, and from the fulness of the heart the mouth will speak. You will preach it from the altar, teach it in 'the confessional, talk about it in private, and pray for it in the secrecy of your own heart. Its success under God will be largely in proportion to your xeal. I commit the work to your charity in the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Yours sincerely,
® JOHN A. WATTERSON,
Bishop of Columbus.
THE LEAGUE AT WORK. ST. JOHN BAPTIST'S CHURCH, SYRACUSE, N. Y.
I AM pleased to tell you that the League is doing much good in this parish. We have large Communions on the First Fridays and many conversions have been effected through this consoling devotion. Very many have been brought to the Sacra- ments who have been away from God for years. Many beautiful gifts have come to the church through our petitions, for which I am most grateful.
We have yet much to desire. I have a few families in the parish who have not been reached yet, but with the prayers of the League I look for a change of heart soon.
I remain, gratefully,
J. F. MULL A NY.
THE LEAGUE AT WORK. 73
ST. JOSEPH'S CHURCH, NEWPORT, R. I.
Through the /eal arid discretion of the Promoters the League lias made enormous strides, the vast majority of the members taking the Second and even the Third Degree. I know I have bothered you about the Rosary sets, but the demand so far exceeded expectation that I am hardly to blame — I will be able, I). V., to send you an accurate order for January. — Thank God for the League and for the untold blessings it has brought on this parish and city. In Corde Jesu,
JAMES COYLE.
ST. PATRICK'S CHURCH, MEMPHIS, TENN. Our League, thank God ! is doing much good. A very large number, indeed scores, go to Holy Communion now on the First Friday when but a few were previously accustomed to approach it.
The Promoters bring us every month many new accessions into the ranks of the League, a large proportion of whom promise to practise the 2d and 3d Degrees. It is a glorious work and will be a saving power to numbers of our people.
Very fraternally yours in the Sacred Heart,
JNO. VEALE.
ST. COLUMBA'S CHURCH, YOUNGSTOWN, OHIO.
On the 15th of June, our new Promoters, to the number of thirty-four, received the much coveted Cross and Diploma. The ceremony took place before Benediction in the evening. Our Rev. Pastor explained in a beautiful and very clear manner this grand devotion of the present, and urged all to lose no time in earning the privilege of wearing the dear Sacred Heart Badge. He then solemnly blessed and conferred the Badge upon fully one thousand persons, who approached the altar for that purpose, while the choir sang O Cor Amoris and other beautiful hymns. There is some- tiling so touching and sublime in this devotion to the Sacred Heart of our Lord, and its public observance seems, more than any other, to lift the soul and bear it " out beyond the bounds of
74 THE LEAGUE AT WORK.
space," only to bring it more sweetly and at peace back to the world's homely duties, already consecrated in the Morning Offer- ing. LORENE H. DUBBIN, SEC'Y.
DANBURY, CONNECTICUT.
I thought of writing to you several times during the past months, to tell you of the marked success which the League of the Sacred Heart is having in my parish ; but one thing or another kept me putting it off, until now I am ashamed of myself. Well, I am glad to tell you that its effects are simply astonishing. Nearly all the " stay-aways " of the parish have returned to their duty. Immense crowds — nearly 1500 — go to Communion monthly. I have in all, about 2000 enrolled in it.
Sincerely in Christ,
H. J. LYNCH.
RANDALL'S ISLAND, NEW YORK.
Since the establishment here of the Holy League, by our venerable pastor, a marked change has manifested itself in the increased piety and devotion of all the Catholics, and we earnestly beg through the prayers of the League, that this spirit of devotion may continue and daily increase, until each one of us is called to receive the reward in the bosom of the Divine Heart, that is promised for those who have been faithful, and have persevered to the end.
TRANSFIGURATION CHURCH, NEW YORK.
Enclosed find our Intention-blank. I think it will open your eyes, as it certainly did mine, when I saw the grand total of Intentions. The people are gradually recognizing the power and efficacy of " co-praying," and each month is more and more prolific in obtaining favors. Nothing is better calculated to keep alive the interest in the devotion of the Sacred Heart than is this feature of special intentions. May all the Associates of the League learn of the efficacy of these prayers and make use of this means of obtaining favors from the Sacred Heart.
W. F. DOUGHERTY.
APOSTLESHIP in 1 NOTICES.
RECENT AGGREGATIONS. — To the Apostleship of Prayer, League of the Sacred Heart of Jesus (December 12, 1890, to January 12. 1891).
(Name of diocese in italics, before parish or community aggregated. )
Baltimore) Maryland : St. Peter Claver's Church, Baltimore ; Our Lady of Mercy Convent (Sisters of Mercy), Mount Wash- ington.
Belleville, Illinois: St. Joseph's Church, Olney.
Boston, Massachusetts: St. Joseph's Church, Wakefield.
Grand Rapids, Michigan : St. Joseph's Church, Grand Rapids.
Hartford, Connecticut : St. Francis' Church, New Haven.
Helena, Montana: St. Francis Xavier's Church, Missoula City.
Kansas City, Missouri : St. Mary's Church, Kansas City.
Newark, New Jersey: St. Antoninus' School (Sisters of Charity), Newark ; Convent of St. Joseph (Sisters of St. Joseph), Orange Valley.
New Orleans, Louisiana : Holy Angels' Academy (Marianite Sisters), New Orleans.
New York, New York : St. Mary's Church, Clifton.
North Carolina, North Carolina: Sacred Heart Church, Ohio.
Ogdensburgh, New York: St. Mary's Cathedral, Ogdens- burgh ; St. Andrew's Church, Norwood ; Visitation Church, Norfolk.
75
76 APOSTLESHIP NOTICES.
Philadelphia, Pennsylvania : St. John Baptist's Church, Pottsville.
Savannah, Georgia : St. Patrick's Church, Savannah.
St. Louis, Missouri: St. Vincent's Seminary (Lazariste) and Academy of Loretto (Sisters of Loretto), Cape Girardeau.
Trenton, New Jersey : Sacred Heart Church, Mount Holly.
Vincennes, Indiana : St. Michael's School, Madison.
THE SODALITY OP THE BLESSED VIRGIN.
Diplomas of Affiliation, received from the Prima Primarifi, have been transmitted to the following :
Chicago, Illinois : Catholic Industrial School, Chicago.
Detroit, Michigan: Immaculate Conception Church, Lapeer, Michigan.
Scranton, Pennsylvania : St. Leo's Church, Ashley.
St. Louis, Missouri: St. Joseph's Church, JCdina.
THE TREASURY OP THE SACRED HEART.
Associates can gain 100 days' Indulgence for each action offered for the Intentions of the League.
Offerings for the Intentions of the Sacred Heart, received from December 12, 1890, to January 12, 1891.
No. OF TIMKS. No. or TIMES.
1. Acts of Charity . 481,994 11. Masses Heard .... 135,613
2. Beads 217,574 12. Mortifications .... 188,117
3. Stations of the Cross . 45,606 13. Works of Charity . . 116,287
4. Holy Communions . . 48,518 14. Works of Zeal .... 115,032
5. Spiritual Communions . 262,184 15. Prayers 2,197,168
6. Examens of Conscience 87,163 16. Charitable Conversation 80,104
7. Hours of Labor . . . . 407,728 17. Sufferings or Afflictions 76,171
8. Hours of Silence . . . 189,744 18. Self-Conquest .... 86,136 1 9. Pious Reading .... 86,376 19. Visits to B. Sacrament 179,728 10. Masses Celebrated . . 1,701 20. Various Good Works . 235,568
Total 5,238,512
The above returns represent five hundred and fifty Centras.
The Treasury is made up of prayers and good works specially offered for the Intentions of the Holy League. Promoters and Associates are exhorted to make use of the printed lists (on Intention Blanks), which, when filled up, should be forwarded with the Intentions to the MESSENGER.
ALL YDU THAT LABOURED ARE BURDENED
IN THANKSGIVING FOR GRACES OBTAINED.
TOTAL NUMBER OF THANKSGIVINGS FOR LAST MONTH, 95,424. For I say to you, Ask and it shall be given you (St. Luke, xi, 9.)
PASSAIC, N. J., NOVEMBER 12. — A person in debt, having no means of meeting his engagements, recommended the matter to the prayers of the League. Two days after, this person received word that the debt was cancelled, the demand having been satisfied by other parties.
SCRANTON, PA., NOVEMBER 14. — Sincere thanks to the Sacred Heart for the recovery of an invalid from the influenza : also, kindly offer our heartfelt gratitude for the preservation of the same person's sight, which was threatened to be taken away by ulceration of the eyes.
, PA., NOVEMBER 16. — Especial thanks for the return
of my husband to his duties — he had not been to confession for more than a year.
OMAHA, NEB., NOVEMBER 17. — Thanks are returned to the Divine Heart for an extraordinary improvement in health, and a great spiritual favor bestowed on a person recommended some months ago ; for a lady's return to the Church after an apostasy of twenty years ; for the cure of several cases of diphtheria in which Blessed Margaret Mary was invoked, her relic being applied in two of them ; for removal of obstacles to a religious vocation, and for several spiritual and temporal favors.
COLORADO, NOVEMBER 21. — Heartfelt thanks to the Sacred
77
78 IN THANKSGIVING FOR GRACES OBTAINED.
Heart for bringing me safely through a night of danger, which was nothing short of a miracle from Heaven.
JOHNSVILLE, CAL., NOVEMBER 22. — I asked some time ago for my brother to get a chance to make his First Communion before winter. A priest came last week and he received his First Communion last Sunday.
ST. Louis, NOVEMBER 24. — For the blessing of relief from a very painful and severe illness, of a very slow and tedious nature. Great relief came within the nine days of the Novena, and almost complete cure since.
CANTON, O., NOVEMBER 25. — Some weeks ago the baby had an attack- of pneumonia ; the doctor on being called said he was a very sick child and only very careful handling would bring him through in safety. I placed a picture of Blessed Margaret Mary on his chest, and promised that I would write to the MESSENGER OF THE SACRED HEART, if she would obtain his recovery from the Sacred Heart. He recovered rapidly and I now fulfil my promise.
LOGAN, O., NOVEMBER 27. — Thanks to the Sacred Heart for two special favors granted, along with many smaller ones.
LEE, MASS., NOVEMBER 27. — A young girl wishes to return sincere thanks for a position she has obtained as book-keeper through the prayers of the Associates.
PETALUMA, CAL,., NOVEMBER 29. — Thanksgiving for the conversion of a young man, who though belonging to a good Cath- olic family, ignored all religious sentiment, and had never made his First Communion. After some years of a reckless life he returned home in the last stages of consumption. He positively refused to hear one word on the subject of religion. Some days before his death, he consented to see a priest, who was immediately summoned ; with sentiments of heartfelt contrition he made his confession, received Holy Communion, and the next day, Extreme Unction. The change wrought in him by the reception of the Sacraments was truly a miracle of grace ; from a peevish, irreligious man he became a perfect lamb of patience and mild- ness, edifying every one by his faith, piety, and resignation until his last breath.
IN THANKSGIVING FOR GRACES OBTAINED. 79
SPRINGFIELD, MASS., DECEMBER 1. — Many thanks are returned to the Divine Heart of Jesus for employment obtained the day after the intention had been recommended.
CHICAGO, DECEMBER 2. — Will you thank the Sacred Heart for many spiritual and temporal favors granted during the past month, especially for three happy deaths.
, DECEMBER 3. — Please thank the loving Heart of Jesus
through the MESSENGER for employment obtained by my two brothers in a most unexpected way.
NEW YORK, DECEMBER 4. — An Associate returns most heart- felt thanks to the Divine Heart of Jesus, for her child's miraculous escape from being killed. It fell from a great height, but was found unhurt.
An Associate returns thanks for the conversion of one who was wayward, recommended for two months.
An Associate returns thanks most gratefully for being speedily cured of an affliction, recommended last month.
A Protestant friend borrowed the MESSENGER last month. On returning it a few weeks later, she requested to be recom- mended to the prayers of the League. She is now receiving instructions in the Catholic Faith, and owes her change for the better to the prayers of the Holy League. May I ask the prayers of MESSENGER readers, for the grace of perseverance for her.
PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 5. — Thanks to the Sacred Heart for a very great favor. The favor I received was almost a miracle — and I feel and know I received it through the prayers of the Holy League.
ST. Louis, Mo., DECEMBER 7. — Thanks to the Sacred Heart for the grace of the last Sacraments to a man who had neglected his religious duties since the time of his first Communion, a period of more than thirty years. He had also been long addicted to the vice of intemperance and had opposed his family in the practice of their Christian duties. — A mother of six children returns heartfelt thanks to the Heart of Jesus for the conversion of her husband from the vice of intemperance. He had also long neg- lected his duty to God, and had abused and neglected his family. He is now temperate, and a model husband and father.
8O IN THANKSGIVING FOR GRACES OBTAINED.
TOLEDO, O., DECEMBER 11. — My husband lost his position in the middle of the year, and in his business it is very difficult to get another at that season ; but thanks to the Sacred Heart, St. Joseph, and Blessed Margaret Mary he got another one.
FREDERICK, MD. — \Ve, the Catholic deaf-mutes of Frederick, wish to give our grateful thanks to the most Sacred Heart of Jesus for one very great spiritual favor, obtained through the prayers of the League, as also for many other blessings given to us and our teachers.
. — A family desires to return thanks to the Sacred
Heart by publishing the conversion of their grandfather, whose advanced age and peculiar disposition precluded all hope of his acceptance of our holy faith. However, his daughter, her husband and five children have been faithful Associates of the League for some years and constantly implored the Sacred Heart of Jesus to give him the light of faith. Last April the youngest of the grandchildren, who is an Associate of League, being about to receive his First Communion, said he would ask our Lord the favor of liis grandfather's conversion. This child had been remarkable in always asking this conversion in the monthly inten- tions. On the afternoon of the day on which the little fellow received his First Communion a letter came from the grandfather, saying that on the following morning he was to be baptized ! The conversion is especially remarkable in its entire completeness, and the aged man, before so self-sufficient, is now with the humble docility of a little child preparing for his First Communion.
VARIOUS CENTRES. — Thanks through the MESSENGER for the baptism of three of my children. — Thanks to the Sacred Heart, through the MESSENGER, for a business position for a young man, which he obtained after the Intention had been recommended to the prayers of the League. — Heartfelt thanks are returned for the obtaining of a temporal favor from the Sax; red Heart, through a Novena made to Blessed Margaret Mary. — Thanks for the settle- ment of a lawsuit between relatives.
TflKIH /^©©OT M TO!
(From a Diisseldort design ot C. Schonherr)
SACRED HEART OF JESUS
VOL. VI (xxvi). FEBRUARY, 1891.
No. 2
THE HOLY HOUR,
By M. Regina Colgan.
ADST thou been in Gethsemani
That darksome night and drear When Christ the bitter chalice drained,
With none to comfort near, When all the crimes of sinful men
His cup filled to the brim, And trickling fell the sweat of blood —
Wouldst thou have watched with Him?
All agony that heart can bear,
All sorrow earth hath known,
He suffered in that cruel hour And suffered it — alone.
The comfort that the Angel brought Had rapture been from thee :
Oh, hear His cry of wounded love : "Wilt watch one hour with Mef"
His Heart is calling to thee still : Canst thou resist its power?
Oh, bow before His lonely shrine, To watch with Him one hour !
Copyright, 1891, by Rev. R. S. Dewey, S. J. All rights reserved.]
81
TOMB OF CECILIA METELLA.
THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
THE sun of Rome is mighty. In the clear winter days it glorifies the earth and sky with a semblance of the summer
of less favored lauds. Then many a stranger who is "doing Rome" is tempted beyond the city walls, at least so far as a carriage will take him. There are plenty of things for him to see, yet for the most part nowhere is there less really seen. It is because the "mind's eye" of the traveller has not been fitted beforehand with a glass for proper insight.
The average tourist will go out beyond the Porta San Sebas- tiano to the Catacombs of St. Callistus. Perhaps his excursion will be prolonged to the Basilica of St. Sebastian — one of the seven of Rome — a little further on. He is told that he has seen the famous Via Appia. He has indeed been driving along its
82
THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS. 83
course, but always between high walls of brick roughly plastered over with cement, and shutting out the view of everything except the intensely blue sky above and the black polygonal century- old paving-stones over which he jolts below. The most curious thing he will have seen by the roadside is the rare species of ivy growing over the walls and showing in this season its clusters of yellow berries. Here and there, through a clumsy gate, there is a break into some vigna where there are antiquities to show and perhaps to sell to the unshrewd traveller. But the real Appian Way — "the Queen of High Ways," as the ancient poet called it — he has not seen at all.
The more's the pity. All the surroundings of Rome might give him an education in this world's history and point its moral, if he only visited them with some proper insight into what they all mean. A little further along this Appian Way, for instance, the mind's eye can look through all the periods of Roman history from the time it became the world's centre until now, quite as easily as the eye of the body can look down its long line of ruined monuments.
If he would silver over his persuasion, the vetturino who is his charioteer would readily bring him a mile or so beyond the Basilica, and then alighting he could wander at will on foot along the wonderful High Way. There he would tread the soil over which passed the feet of heroes, Apostles, and Martyrs. But if city life has altogether unfitted him for a pedestrian excursion, still from the first elevated point he may have a fair view of all that has been preserved of the great way which once led from the Eternal City down to Capua and then across Italy to where the ships started for Greece, Egypt, and the East. He should certainly find it as interesting as two thousand years from now posterity will find our own lines of railway, if indeed our work will endure so many years.
All this part of the Roman Field is a continuous up and down of the surface of the ground, never rising so high as the hills of Rome and never descending lower than some deeply cut water-course which drains the hills far away. The elevation near
84 THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
which we emerge from the line of walls that shut in the way is the great circular tomb of Cecilia Metella, wife of a certain Crassus, perhaps the "lean and hungry" conspirator against Caesar.
Her name goes back to the early Republic, when the plebian family bearing it gradually grew rich and strong until it was ennobled. But it was later, in Christian times, that the Martyr St. Cecilia became the crowning glory of her race in the Cata- combs we have just passed. All along here the Cecilian family had its possessions. Back from the broad High Way were the sumptuous mansions. Along the great Way, after the ostenta- tious manner of the Romans when they grew rich, they housed their dead in great masses of brickwork, three and four and more stories in height, all encased in precious marble. The marble disappeared centuries ago and went to adorn churches and palaces in the City, or was ground up into lime for whitewashing the vineyard walls of the neighboring peasants. But the brickwork remains and, to all appearances, may remain for ever. The Roman bricks were long thin slabs, and when firmly set together with the tenacious cement of the ancients in which broken earthenware was freely mixed they form a conglomerate mass of rubble that seems a part of the earth's living rock.
From this point on for many miles the whole Way is lined with these monuments, more or less dilapidated. On the top of some of them is found a modern tower, if that can be called modern which was built nearly a thousand years ago. These towers were places of refuge against the Saracens when they made their inroads, or for the shepherds of one powerful family when harried by the sudden onset of the retainers of the next powerful family at feud with their own lords. At the end of the vista from this first great tomb, some few miles away toward the Alban mountains, one of the most curious of all these Roman ruins may be seen. Over the very top of a great circular tomb, the ages with wind and weather have scattered so much fertile soil that a farmhouse has been set up there as on some natural mountain, and an olive orchard may be seen growing far above the remains of Rome's proudest nobility.
86 THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
When this part of the Appian Way was first- excavated and laid open to - the ordinary traveller by Pius IX., then ruler in Rome and public-spirited in all his works, many travellers came out here to refresh their classical memories. But either the lazi- ness of recent tourists, or the short time in which they hurry over all these scenes that would need years of study, has caused this excursion to be again neglected except perhaps by a few profes- sional students. Yet nowhere are there finer views to be seen.
To the left of the great road you see stretching for miles across the plain the lofty broken arches of the Roman aqueducts, over which the water from the distant mountain streams was con- veyed to the City when it had outgrown the use of the muddy Tiber. Further still against the horizon you have the framework of the Sabine Mountains and the Alban Hills. The former are of limestone worn away into all manner of angular and prismatic shapes. All through the winter season their tops are covered with snow and shine forth in the sunlight like masses of rose quartz. The Alban Hills nearer have their rugged sides clothed with the russet-brown hues of the Campagna at their feet, except where, far away, they show dark-blue against the intenser azure of the sky. On their sides here and there gleam the yelloAv walls of the Italian villages.
To the right, the eye passes over the fields of the Campagna toward the sea, which however can be seen from few points. When seen at all it is only as a silver streak at the horizon, some twelve miles distant. The Campagna itself is the despair of painters. Every shadow of the clouds, every change of light from the sunrise over the Albali summits to the western sheen across the sea waves gives a vital change in color to its surface. In the dis- tance it looks like the smooth floor of an American prairie, but coming nearer you find it the same continuous up and down variety of hill and dale which we have along this part of the Appian Way. Grazing here and there are herds of the light dove- gray, sleek-coated oxen, so famous for the immense span of their ebony-black shining horns. Then there may be some of the humped-backed black and white Roman buffaloes, now becoming
88 THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
rare, or again black goats with glistening yellow eyes waging their gray beards. For the tourist from the New AYrorld, as interest- ing as any are the herdsmen themselves in their coats of sheepskin, with sheepskin leggings curiously protecting the front of the leg.
All this region — the ruined tombs, the amphitheatres, the High Way and the ruins which border it, even the names of its insignificant streams — is bound up with some one or other impor- tant part of the world's history. To explain all its transforma- tions of land and population would go far toward determining many of the vexed questions of our own day. Here, in the oldest period of which we know, were scattered the fifty or so small independent towns which made up together the confederacy of Latium. Alba Longa, far away on the mountain yonder, was at first the head of the confederacy, until supplanted by its all-con- quering daughter, Rome. Some three hundred years before the Christian era, Rome had nothing more left to conquer in her own immediate neighborhood. Then she began absorbing all to herself. Means were found by which the population of these towns was drawn to the great City, and then the more powerful citizens of the Republic — the leading politicians, or those who had "political influence," as we would say — began buying up, or appropriating without buying, all the land into great estates. These estates were cultivated by slaves and little by little ceased to be ploughed, as under the old system of careful cultivation. Then home-grown food had been eaten and home-made garments worn ; now every- thing became foreign and exotic, and the land at home was turned over to pasture. Thus began the second period, of which the Roman historian says sententiously, Latifundia perdidn°e Latium "Great landholdings ruined Latium."
But the Roman landlord now found an enemy witli which he could not deal as with those of his own kind. When the careful cultivation of the soil had ceased and only great herds roamed over the broad Campagna there came forth a subtle influence from the land which, little by little, has reduced it to its present desolate condition.
The soil is made up of the friable tufa coming from the
THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
89
decomposition of the great streams of lava sent forth ages ago by the Alban Mountain. It is only along a narrow strip of the plain, beginning just here at the tomb of Cecilia Metella, that we find the strong lava rock resulting from a later eruption over the earlier tufa. It is the property of this volcanic soil greedily to suck up moisture and tenaciously to retain it. In autumn and winter all this land is brown and bare with little but dry stubble upon it, because the intense heat of summer has at the very last dried up its moisture. But with the heavy rains of winter and springtime
SHEPHERDS OF THE CAMPAGNA.
9O THE QUEEN OF HIGH WAYS.
the soil will again become spongy and damp, and so remain month after month through the greatest heats into the Dog-days.
Then such vegetation as can be seen, perhaps, nowhere else in the world will spring up on every hillside. Myriads of flowers, homely or exotic elsewhere, will here bloom together — crimson-tipped daisies, daffodils with perfume as of the tuberose, fox-gloves and hollyhocks, lupins and gorgeous scarlet poppies that wave from the top of every tomb and crumbling tower — even the very thistles will flaunt their purple tufts and give a crown of glory to the land. But then the tourist will be warned not to pass through these beautiful vales after the sunset, for it is the hour when the subtle influence is rising to stalk abroad through the land. It is the dreaded malaria, generated by the moisture left stagnating in fertile soil through lack of cultivation ; and the lack of cultivation began with the great landholdings, when the people were driven away and all this fair region was turned to the pasturage of cattle by landlords, "absentee" in Greece or by the Hellespont.
This is the state of the Roman Campagna down to the former Neapolitan frontier. Perhaps no government will ever command the necessary means and men to bring it back to that state of fertility when fifty independent nations two thousand years ago lived from its broad acres. But their natural fertility is so great that they prove a source of riches to the few owners who can induce the peasants to brave the deadly fever. Even so, in the summer season all with the night seek the protection of some neighboring hill, or of the City itself, against the subtle enemy.
But so far we have said little of the tomb before us. It is an immense round tower of Roman brick, once cased with marble, resting on a square foundation of massive blocks of travertine. Nearly all that remains of ancient adornment is a band of ox skulls alternating with festooned garlands round the upper part. From this the neighboring peasants have called it for centuries the Tower of the Bull's Head. Conspicuous above it are the forked battlements which distinguished the Ghibellines of the Middle Ages. For these Roman tombs have suffered many a
THE QUEEN OF HIGH IV AYS. 91
curious change in the course of time. This one was used by the great Gaetani family as their stronghold ; and from its wall to the ruins across the road they extended their castle like a monstrous toll-gate whence they might domineer over the whole Appian Way, lords or brigands as we choose to consider them. The great tomb far away at the end of the long line was used in like fashion by the Orsiiii family, which still remains in its broad possessions of the Roman Field.
Another curious thing of this tomb is that it has the same buff color which distinguishes ruins and ancient buildings alike through all this part of Italy, as if the Italian sun had somehow got into the eyes of men and created in the color-sense a craving for something of its own sheen.
The period of Rome's boundless wealth and luxury passed away, and with it the memory of most of these great landed proprietors who, to the ruin of their country, built up these monuments of an idle ostentation.
This much alone we know — Metella died,
The wealthiest Roman's wife : behold his love or pride.
It was in those last days of human vanity, which were to- end in the subtle malaria of these fields, that another influence sprang up, subtler and more powerful and which from here was to spread little by little through the whole world. This was the religion of the Christian Martyrs who lie by hundreds of thou- sands in the Catacombs beneath these fields.
From his prison in Jerusalem the Apostle Peter came out hither to the Jews who had settled around the gate opening on the Appian Way. They were the lowly and despised of this world; but their traditional industry and enterprise, and the purity of their social relations had already made them felt as an element in the corrupt Roman society. Along this Appian Way St. Peter, and later on St. Paul, came to find their countrymen and to spread among them, and among the Romans in whose midst they lived, the faith of the Crucified God. To Him they had given up their lives, and for Him they were to suffer death in this same Rome. St. Luke, who was St. Paul's companion,
THE QUEEN OF HIGH IV AYS. 93
in the Acts of the Apostles tells how the new Christians of this Jewish colony came out to meet them far along the Appian Way when the great Apostle was brought as a prisoner to Csesar. But there is something more interesting yet about this Way than the passing over it of those who were to give the beginning to the Roman Church. It is connected with the great estates whose palaces and monuments lined the Queen of High Ways.
The Cecilian family, as has been said, found its crowning glory in the Martyr St. Cecilia, who was laid to rest with count- less other martyrs, Popes and priests and simple faithful, in the Catacombs on her own estate. But these Catacombs had long before been opened to Christian burial by a more ancient member of her race, one who has been eulogized by no less a pagan than the historian Tacitus and who may have received St. Peter himself when he first came to Rome. It is only the diligent deciphering of inscriptions long hidden under the ground, which has made it possible during the last few years to identify this noble matron. Tacitus, who saw in the Christian religion only an " execrable superstition," was still able to appreciate the fruits of that relig- ion in a saintly life which he wondered at and eulogized without understanding.
In the year 43 after Christ, shortly after the arrival of St. Peter in the Capital of the World, Pomponia, a matron of high rank, suddenly changed her worldly life to the unqualified aston- ishment of her pagan friends. She withdrew from society, she put on the garments of mourning, and went to live retired on her country estate. Some thought she was mourning her intimate friend, Julia of the family of Csesar, who had been put to death under Tiberius in one of the endless intrigues of his corrupt court. But the years passed by, and there was no change in the manner of her life. " She lived long," says Tacitus, " always in her Bad- ness. During forty years she wore only the habit of mourning."
At last this existence, so singular in the world of that day, excited suspicion. Pomponia was accused of joining in " foreign superstitions." According to the Roman law, she was handed over to the judgment of her husband. He was an old consul, who
©4 THE QUEEN OF HIGH IV AYS.
had had a hand in the conquest of Britain. He seems to have had something of the oldtime honor. After holding a council of his noble family, he declared his wife innocent and free to continue in the way of life she had chosen. Recent discoveries made in the excavation of the first Christian cemeteries along the Appian Way show that the famous crypt of Lucina, which ran into the Cata- combs of St. Callistus where St. Cecilia was buried, was the private property of Pomponia. Among the earliest Christian inscriptions there is one narrating the virtues of a young Pom- ponius, two generations later, showing that this Christian matron had left the heritage of her faith to her descendants. It is not certain even that the name Lueina, which means the "enlightened one " and which is attributed to the powerful Roman matron who preserved the bodies of the first Christian martyrs, is not the mystic name of this same Pomponia.
So does this Appiau Way bring back the memory of the good and the evil of ages past. In its present desolation, it tells the story of that "foreign superstition" which from Rome and the See of Peter has spread and subtly transformed the whole civiliza- tion of the world and the lives of men, even of those men who would now drive it from the earth. Without Rome the world had not been Christian, nor without Christianity had our brief life been worth the living.
Awe-struck I gazed upon that rock-paved way. The Appian Road ; mannorean witness still Of Rome's resistless stride and fateful Will.
Which mocked at limits, opening out for aye
Divergent paths to one imperial sway. The Nations verily their parts fulfil ; And war must plough the fields which Law shall till ;
Therefore Rome triumphed till the appointed day.
Then from the Catacombs, like waves, up-burst The Host of God, and scaled, as in an hour, O'er all the earth the mountain seats of Power.
Oladly in that baptismal flood immersed
The old Empire died to live. Once more on high
It sits ; now clothed with immortality !
(Aubrey de Vere.)
EUCHARISTIC THOUGHTS.
By the Rev. Matthew Russell, S.J.
V.
IN our moments before the tabernacle we might be supposed to be occupied with nothing else but prayer ; and these are not prayers. No ; because I think it is well in our devotions to practise sometimes one of the wise suggestions of St. Ignatius. He tells us that we ought to show more reverence when we address God directly in prayer than when we are only thinking about Him and His eternal truths.1 Now our sloth is not capable of much strain, and therefore we quickly tire of our attempts at direct and fervent prayer, taking refuge in that exercise of the powers of the soul which exacts less reverence and less restraint. And therefore it does not seem to me wise to impose it on our- selves as a duty to be always formal and solemn in the thoughts and words which spring up in our hearts or rise to our lips during our moments before the Tabernacle. We may very properly and very fruitfully occupy ourselves with holy and appropriate thoughts of any kind cast in any form. And therefore, kneeling or sitting before the Tabernacle, we may now perhaps dwell with profit on a eucharistic thought, which I will set down here, not by itself but with some of its surroundings.
VI.
In the Life of Felix Dupanloup, Bishop of Orleans, there is given incidentally an account of an English governess, Harriet
1 Exerdtia Spiritualia, Annotatio 3. The Directoriuin (chapter 15, section 7) says that our colloquies with God and His Saints in meditation require greater reverence than our meditations and speculations.
95
96 EUCHARIST 1C THOUGHTS.
Shillito, who was received by him into the Catholic Church, and who has been for more than twenty years a Poor Clare in Eng- land, if she is living still. Her name occurs to me now before the altar, not on account of the Bishop's words to her : " Why are you not a Catholic? Are you quite sure you are in the truth, your religion having so many separate sects? Can you strike the Tu es Petrus out of the Gospel?" Not for those words of the Bishop, but for these other words of Harriet Shillito herself. "The Church has the Eucharist, the most complete and perfect gift of God to man; the Church produces Virginity, the most complete and perfect gift of man to God. I think that perfect truth must be there where there is perfect love."
VII.
The foregoing words join together, with a slight variation, two ideas which I have long been accustomed to link with certain words of a great and good man wrhose death has called forth a wider and more earnest expression of affectionate admiration than has marked the departure of any man of our time or perhaps of any time. Yes, the truly Christian heart needs no other notes of the true Church of Christ than the Holy Eucharist and the Blessed Virgin. Ecce Mater tua. Hoc est corpus meum. But with these grand war-cries and watchwords of the Faith let us join Tu es Petrus,
The great and good man from whom we take the eucharistic thought on which wre are going now to dwell for a little, is Cardinal Newman. Long before that title belonged to him, in his first year as a Catholic priest, he preached some sermons which even he never before or since surpassed, and wThich form his first Catholic book, Discourses to Mixed Congregations. In the last of these he makes a remark which I have often repeated to others, and to myself hundreds of times as a sort of meditative ejaculation : for I hold strongly that the practice of ejaculations ought not to be confined to direct aspirations to God and His Saints but ought to include mottoes and principles and reflections of many kinds, not all directly spiritual. But this saying is directly spiritual. "It
EUCHARIST 1C THOUGHTS. 97
is the boast of the Catholic religion that it has the gift of making the young heart chaste : and why is this but that it gives us Jesus for our Food and Mary for our nursing Mother?"
vin.
It is the name of Jesus and not of Mary that brings these words before our minds in these moments before the Tabernacle ; yet He will let us think first of His nursing Mother. She was so indeed for Him in reality.
Et lade modica pastus est Per quern nee ales esurit.
"He on a little milk is fed Who gives the birds their daily bread."
Did the great neophyte mean by calling Mary not only our Mother but our nursing Mother to claim for her again, in her mystical maternity, not the half only but the whole of the bene- diction pronounced on her of old by the good woman in the crowd : " Blessed is the womb that bore Thee, and the breasts that Thou hast sucked !" St. Clement of Alexandria says that the mother who does not nourish her infant at her breast is but half a mother. Quce parit et non lactat dimidium matris est. All the love. and tenderness of the best and truest mothers must yield to the higher and truer love that yearns toward us all from the Immaculate Heart of Mary our nursing Mother. She is our Mother and our nursing Mother. The relations we hold to the Blessed Virgin are not those of the grown-up son or daughter to the venerated parent on whom they lavish marks of respect and affection, the arrears of gratitude accumulated during the long years during which they were, first, the wholly unconscious and then the only half conscious objects of a mother's self-sacrificing love. We are not so far independent. We have not outgrown the wants of childhood. We are helpless children always, quasi modo geniti infantes, like new-born babes needing always to be nursed and tended, needing always the Blessed Virgin for our nursing Mother.
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
By Joseph E. Barnaby.
I.
4<TT TA-WA — Germantown — Mauch Chunk — Through traiu \ \ — Bel-vi-dere division !"
Every frequenter of the superb railway station on Broad Street in Philadelphia knows that this is not quite the way the words run. But this seemed about their sum to the tired little woman in black who had been waiting till late in the night for a train that was never called.
Her clothing was old and rusty, but very neat. A soft white handkerchief was pinned round her wasted throat in motherly fashion. The dingy crape veil pushed back over her antique bonnet set off a pale worn face from which smiles had long since fled. On her arm was an old-fashioned wicker-basket ; and the fingers of her thin hands were nervously locked together in her lap.
She sat at the end of one of the long benches of the waiting- room. It was close to the great door opening out on the platform. She could hear the first words of the " usher " or caller-out of trains, as he came in to announce their departure. She looked him steadily in the face, leaning a little forward that she might not miss a word of what he was saying so deliberately. But her train never came. After a time it seemed to her that he only called out over and over the same thing.
" Wa-wa — Germantown — Mauch Chunk — Through train — Bel-vi-dere division !"
Her expectation grew more anxious each time that she settled back into her place. She looked timidly after the usher to see if she might not speak to him the next time he should pass her by.
He was very different in look from herself. Youth was still a-Maying with him ; and he stood straight upright in the dark blue uniform and close cap worn by the employees of that great
98
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 99
company which, it is said, owns the State of Pennsylvania. He was a handsome figure of a man. His black hair and kindly grey eyes were set off by a bright healthy flush on cheeks of dusky firm complexion. All this belongs to the " dark Irish " \vho are the true Milesians, and came from Spain two thousand years ago. He was known as "Irish Charley," though American-born."
He was very proud of his calling out. When his turn came on, all the waiting passengers looked relieved. They were sure to understand in time when their train was ready.
He had noticed the poorly dressed little woman in black. She had given a twinge to his heart-strings, which were tender after his race's wont.
Only a few years brought him back to his childhood when he had seen his mother seated like that in the waiting-room of these great railway offices. That was after his father had been crushed to death between two freight cars he was coupling one stormy night. She had grown old and wasted then like this woman before him. She worked hard and ate little that he might have enough, until at last some one in the great corporation was found willing to take him in and pay for the life of the father by enabling the son to earn a living. He earned more than that, now he had been promoted to call out the trains ; and the mother could rest a little and try to grow young again.
At least, this should have been the case. But it was just here that the twinge came to his heart-strings. He called out the trains so loudly that all the waiting crowd turned agape to hear what was so specially announced. He half excused himself by winding up with a prolonged — " Local !" Then all the people who were for the through trains settled back and looked at the long gilt hands on the black dial of the clock up against the wall before them.
Irish Charley stood with a deepened flush on his face beside the little old lady who had betrayed him into this unusual out- burst. Her faded eyes were looking straight up to his, with a wan look. The frank kindliness of his own questioning gaze emboldened her to speak.
1OO THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
"If you please, sir, when is the train for Paradise?"
He gave a surprised start, but she went on quickly: "I try and be patient; but I have been here very long and you never call out that train. And I'm so tired."
By this time he was reassured. "Oh, I see now. I've heard of the place. It's not on this line — that's why I don't call it."
The poor creature shrank back in her corner trembling violently as with cold and misery combined. It was time for him to be back at the platform for another train ; but he said a word to comfort her in her dismay.
"Don't be afraid. There's a connection somewhere — I'll ask out at the Inquiry Window and tell you the next time I come in. Sorry I didn't know before. 'Twill be all right — don't be afraid. We connect here with everywhere — no trouble at all."
She pressed her fingers tightly together, and the look of patient expectation slowly came back to her eyes. She still shivered slightly under her faded shawl. When the door next opened, she sat forward to hear, with a touching glance of recog- nition at the usher. He was flustered, and his calling out was not nearly up to the mark. When he had finished, he stopped beside her once more.
"I've found your connection. It's up above Lancaster, and you'll have to ask the conductor where you're to change. I guess you'll have to stage it part of the way."
She looked gratefully up at him and laid her withered hand anxiously on his sturdy arm, though he was not moving away.
"Can I go now? Is it long before the train goes? Oh, I'm in such a hurry — and I'm so tired."
He flushed up once more and turned aside his look as he answered almost timidly: "Well, the truth is, lady, there ain't any more trains that way to-night. The Harrisburg Express was the last, and that's gone half an hour."
The woman was trembling violently again, and warm-hearted Charley could not endure the suffering and agitation visible on her pinched features as he hastily glanced down at her.
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 1O1
"Now, now, it can't be helped and 'twill all come out right, I know. Have you no friends you can go to for the night, here in the city?"
She stared straight before her, without saying a word. Charley was afraid she was going to faint clear away. Her hands were clasped together again on her lap, but she no longer leaned forward with expectation. He touched her on the shoulder and bent slightly over to say soothingly: "Well, don't mind it now. I'll be off work in a few minutes now, and then I'll see to getting a good cheap lodging for you near the station. Then you can get the early train. The evening train would have landed you any- way in the night ; and I don't think that's pleasant out in those country-places. Now, do you?"
If she could answer his question, he thought, she would not faint. She mumbled something faintly, but he could only catch as he bent more closely — " I'm in such a hurry to see the King—."
It was time for him to be back at his post. He did the best thing to be done with women and children and even men, when they are weak and in trouble. With a firm, cheery voice and giving a little pat on her shoulder to draw attention to his words, he said : "Now, see here. Just stay quiet where you are till I'm through, and I'll see everything is all right."
She turned her eyes toward his steady gaze, and after an anxious scrutiny bowed her head in assent. There was an old- fashioned ladylikeness about the gesture, and her lips formed the word " Thanks " without uttering it.
When the next train had been called, Charley stopped at her side and said : " There is only one more. Then I'll be ready."
H.
At last it was midnight, and the special officer came on. He was to attend to the duties of the usher as well as of several other functionaries of the more busy time of the day, until six in the morning when the railway public would again begin ebbing and flowing in its ceaseless tide. Charley ran hastily off to the coat-
102 THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
room to doff the cap and insignia of the Company and to put on the ordinary attire of an American citizen. It is one of our national characteristics that, outside of the duties of our respective offices, we desire to look each quite like the other, excepting always the inborn American principle that clergymen should wear their cloth.
Just as he was leaving the room, with his neat black hat and grey coat, one who had come in on the same errand clapped him on the shoulder.
" Oh, here you are, just in time ! The boys are all ready, and we'll have a night of it. You know the officials of the Steel Ring will be up, and if you make friends with them you will not be black-balled at the election."
Charley started back, and the flush on his face grew several shades deeper. "Sorry," he mumbled, "but really I can't go to-night. I have to hurry up home on important business."
The new-comer was employed like himself in the great Rail- road Company. He was very different in appearance. Of about the same age, he had lost all frankness of look, if indeed he had ever had it. His pink-and- white cheeks were inclined to hang down in pockets, and the moustache which railway men favor only partly hid those cruel lines about the mouth which betoken a disposition sure to follow on prolonged self-indulgence. His eyes too had taken that half-almond shape which we see in the worst classes of the Chinese, and which perhaps has something to do with their general paganism in religion.
He looked sharply, and for a moment threateningly, at his Irish companion. Then, smoothing his face, he spoke persuasively. " You are not going back on me now, after all the trouble I have taken with you, are you ? It isn't everyone I could get into the Steel Ring, you know, and if you do not make yourself solid with the boys to-night you might as well give up all hopes of it."
Charley looked up resolutely, though a little stunned, and said: "Never mind about the Steel Ring just now. I have to go home — and home I am going."
The other looked at him with the same fell look on his face,
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 1O3
before he spoke again : " I suppose you know the harm this will do you, my fine fellow?"
Charley laughed lightly, though there was something forced in his manner, and answered: "I guess I'll live through it all right. I am sound enough with the Union, and your Steel Ring don't seem so powerful around here anyway."
His companion, with an ugly sneer, replied: "Yes, since you Irish took possession of the Union, we decent fellows don't seem to have the power we ought to have by rights. All the same, you will be fixed if you go back on us now."
On the whole, he seemed greatly vexed at the conduct of Irish Charley. However, he had reason to see that he was not gaining ground, but rather exciting the natural obstinacy of the one he wished to persuade. So he tried another tack.
"Now, what is to prevent your coming with us to-night, after all the plans we've made? It ain't right you should lead us into all this expense and then back out. Sunday's our only day, and here you are, free till morning, with your turn not on again till four in the afternoon. Why, you'll sleep everything oif by that time."
Charley laughed again, this time more easily, and answered lightly: "Well, you're not putting things very nicely for an employee of the corporation that owns the State of Pennsylvania. What would the Governor say if he heard you? You boys will enjoy yourselves just as well without me, and I can't get out of it — I have to go home."
The other was not to be rebuffed so easily. There was evidently some reason for his wishing to get the usher into the Steel Ring. This was a new secret society among the employees, half-convivial and half-beneficial, and generally dreaded by the employers and looked on with suspicion by the more honorable members of the ordinary Labor Union. It was one of those societies whose name, as it were, "left a bad taste in the mouth." On the present occasion its advocate had said the very worst things possible to persuade his friend. An Irish workingman — even an Irish American — may be drawn with his eyes closed into
1O4 THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
any number of ill-meaning associations; but when his eyes are open, and especially when his nationality or his religion are attacked, it is not easy to draw him forward. .
The advocate of the the Steel Ring, with another sneer, now said: "See here, Charley, you're an Irishman. I didn't think you folks got religion so strong. Have any of your priests been at you about the Steel Ring?"
A flush now came to the usher's face, which did not leave it speedily. He answered, almost bitterly: "If I did get religion in the Catholic way it certainly wouldn't bring me oif with you boys to-night, let alone the Steel Ring. Perhaps it would be better for me if I had got it ; but since I have been going with you, you know as well as I that religion is easy. And no priest has been talking to me. He wouldn't be likely to," he added, with an additional tone of bitterness in his voice, "unless he came to change me from what you've made me." Then, hastily button- ing his coat, he added: "Well, I can't go with you, and that is the end of it. There is a person waiting for me there in the waiting-room, and if you wish to see me again to-night you'll have to follow me where I'm going."
So saying, he stalked off with rather more dignity than became his station in life. He found the little old woman still sitting at her place near the door. She looked at him timidly, . and there was again the twinge at his heart-strings as he noticed the resemblance between her and his mother. He went up to her hastily, and bending over said: "My work's over now, and you had better have a cup of tea with me here in the restaurant. Then I'll take you home to my mother. She'll be the best one to take care of you for the night, and to-morrow we'll get you a nice train for the place you want to go to."
His face was still agitated, but his voice had recovered the cheery tone which is so affective with those who are shaken in mind and whose dependence has been thrust home upon them. She allowed herself to be raised from the seat, and taking him by the arm feebly walked through the great doors into the dining room. He placed her at a table and gave an order to the sur-
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 1O5
prised waiter, who knew him from his daily familiarity with the station.
The Steel Ring advocate had followed, looking curiously at what he was doing. Coming up behind him he leaned over and said quietly, " Is that your mother ?"
Charley again flushed angrily, and said : " No. But it's not your business to ask."
The other scowled and said : " Well, you're not the fellow I thought you were. You are just a big Mamma-boy. You may expect that we'll show you small favor, after leaving us in the lurch like this."
Charley felt himself insulted in his nation, his religion, and his family. Under other circumstances, he probably would have felt inclined to resent the treatment in some more violent manner. As it was, the presence of his charge restrained him. He simply answered in a low voice, between his teeth : " I expect from you just what you are likely to give me. You can go your way and I will go mine. That is the end of it."
The workman flung himself out of the room. The waiter, who had been watching the incident with interest, remarked in an aside to his nearest mate : " I believe it is that young fellow's mother. She's keeping him tight. She knows the Saturday night business." And the two laughed together until all the teeth in their heads glistened.
Charley was considerably discomposed. Yet he took the tenderest care of his charge ; and when the cup of tea, which is the comfort of the poor, seemed to have brought a little warmth into her face he led her down the great stairs, and calling one of the few hansoms that remained at the stand drove oif to the little side- street where the mother had all but given up waiting for him.
III.
As the door opened, Charley's mother came forward with a little glad cry of surprise, which was at once changed into an exclamation as she saw her son's companion.
Charley felt again the troublesome twinge at his heart-strings.
106 THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
He was more conscious than he had been for many a long day how he had neglected latterly the good mother who devoted her life to him. It was a new drop in the cup of his bitterness against his fellow- workman that even to-night he would have left her waiting against hope, had it not been for this poor old creature whom Providence had so strangely thrown in his way.
Without hesitation, however, he spoke up in a cheery, resolute way : " Mother, here is a poor old lady who was unfor- tunate enough to miss all her trains. I am the usher, you know, and I felt a little responsible as she had no friends with her. So I thought it best to bring her home to you for the night."
Charley's delicate heart suggested to him this way of introduc- ing the stranger in order that she might not feel so dependent. For herself, the stranger seemed rapidly sinking beyond any feel- ing of dependence. She was trembling again and looking wistfully at Charley's mother, who at once stepped forward and taking her by the hands brought her into the warmth of their little room.
It was in one of those " detached residences," as they are curiously called — since they all seem attached to others, in a single row of small brick houses with white doors and steps and shutters, easily the most striking object to the strange visitor to Philadelphia. None the less, they are one of the great helps to the solution of what is called "the workingmen's problem." Here, in this little four-roomed house, with its cheap rent, was a true home for Charley and his mother, and the independence of one who has his own front-door key in his pocket. The room was neatly furnished. The young man's supper, waiting for him after his night's work, gave forth its pleasant fragrance in the room.
Just at present, however, the whole attention of the two was demanded by the new-comer. She seemed on the point of fainting. Charley briefly informed his mother of the events of the afternoon. With the usual sense of womenkind, she at once devoted herself to the care of the poor creature.
"I could not send her off to the station-house in her condi- tion," said Charley, as if to excuse himself.
"You have done for the best," said his mother, thinking
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 1O7
perhaps it was this that had brought him home to her side. " Only help me now until I can warm her up a little ; and then, if neces- sary, we will send for a doctor."
The poor woman soon seemed more easy and was placed on the mother's bed, but her mind now began wandering. The two soon learned her simple story — common enough in this world of ours and yet always new to the individuals to whom it comes for the first time.
She was an English woman from one of those great Lanca- shire manufacturing centres where Catholics have remained on without changing their religion in spite of Henry VIII., Elizabeth, and all the other Reforming sovereigns. Her journey to America was comical enough in a way, though the two hearers could not refrain from tears as they listened to her tale. She was a widow, with a son — his name too was Charley — who had employment in one of the great railway stations at the junction of many lines. Here he had worked his way up, until he had been given a post of considerable responsibility. It occupied him constantly about the tracks, which he had to traverse every few minutes. He had much to do with the incoming and outgoing of those trains which, to an American, seem to dash about heedlessly and without system in the railway centres of England.
Charley, who had a professional interest in the matter, could not make out to just what office in his own station this other Charley's position in England might have answered. But what happened to him became clear as the poor mother went on with her story.
He had been led away, little by little as the case always is, by some of his fellow-workmen. He had first been taught to drink; then he had joined in their convivial societies. He had finally been initiated into some one of the secret associations with which the paternal government of England has more than once tried to interfere by law. At last, one Saturday night like this, just as he was finishing up his duties and in haste to join his boon companions, he had tripped on the rails as the flying Liverpool Express came thundering by. All that was left of his mangled
108 THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE.
body was brought home to add its horror to the misery of his mother's loss.
Her sympathetic hearers gathered that at that time a strange mixture of ideas had been set going in her poor brain. She told it very simply in her own words, —
" When my Charley was brought home and the priest tried to comfort me, I fell so ill that I remember nothing more for many days. When I awoke they told me as how he had gone to Para- dise, and the priest had sung a Mass and had sprinkled the holy water over his grave. Then I remembered how in the Church we school-girls sang about Paradise."
And in her cracked old voice, flightily, she struck up a hymn which, without much sense, has touched the popular sentiment all through England :
O Paradise ! O Paradise ! The world is growing old- —
and so it goes on. Now, if she could reach the King in Paradise she might get back from him her dead Charley. Through all her other flighty thoughts ran this one settled idea, that he had gone into the next world unprepared to meet the King.
By some strange chance, her case had not been understood. With that dread of the workhouse which settles down upon every English laborer in distress, she concealed many of her ideas and actually obtained a passage to America which she had always heard called the " New World." And, if " this world was grow- ing old," Paradise must certainly be found in the New. With her neat upper-servant air she passed unnoticed through the port. When questioned as to her destination, she had managed to interest some of the officials in her search. They simply understood that in some American town called " Paradise " was the son from whom she had been separated ; and finding there was a place of this name in the southern part of the State of Pennsylvania they had forwarded her from New York. She was waiting patiently to go still further on toward Paradise, when she fell under the observa- tion of Irish Charley.
It would be hard to say who was the more touched by this
THE THROUGH TRAIN TO PARADISE. 1O9
simple tale — the mother or the son. The mother of Irish Charley had had many occasions of late to fear a fate much like that of this English Charley for her own boy. The latter had himself heard every word with a little stab of self-reproach for his own past conduct. He could not help thinking that the fate of English Charley might have been his own, if it had not been for this poor crazed being so strangely thrust into his life.
All manner of good resolutions began waking in him, but just at this tune the state of their guest demanded all their atten- tion. The nervousness, the nighty manner, the disposition to faint, increased so much that Charley hastened out for the nearest doctor and the priest. When he came back with the latter he saw that all was nearly over. She recognized the priest and said a word about the King in Paradise; that she should find her Charley ; that if she could get to the presence of the King he would give him back to her. Then she sank away into uncon- sciousness.
Charley and his mother sat by the bedside watching through the remainder of the night. As the early morning light came in through the white curtains of the window, the two could see that the end was at hand. The mother read from a worn prayer-book the Prayers for the Dying which are so dear to every Catholic heart; and Charley kneeling by her side answered her.
At last the sun shone between two gaunt brick walls that stood on the other side of the way. A ray came stealing down and fell full vupon the white face on the pillow. All the hard drawn lines of suffering had faded away, there was a look of peace on the worn features. The mother and son knew that the King in Paradise was listening to the petition of the mother of English Charley.
Irish Charley, still upon his knees, looked up doubtfully to his mother as she arose from her place. Then he spoke huskily : "Dear Mother, do you remember how I used to tell you every- thing when I was a child?"
The mother, whose heart was full, could only bow her head in assent.
HO THE STAR IN THE EAST.
The boy went on : " You will not expect me to do that now that I am grown. But I promise you here that you shall never have from me the suffering which this poor woman has taught me would have been waiting for you, had she not" found me last night."
The mother placed her hands on the dark locks of her boy in silent benediction. The sunlight crept over till it shone around them both. It was not alone the soul which had dwelt beneath the pinched features of the corpse on the bed that had taken a through train to Paradise that night. Two others also had heard it called out, and were henceforth on the way.
THE STAR IN THE EAST.
Unhappy man that I am ! Who shall deliver me from the body of this death f
St. Paul, to the Romans, vii. 24.
O ancient Kings, O Wise ones of dim story, Through what dark depths of Time your eyes were aching ! One flash" of light upon your figures breaking,
And then the vision blinded by New Glory !
Enough, enough, ah, keep your secret hoary ! I too, from blackest darkness now awaking, May share the pilgrimage that ye are making,
Though giflless, sad, and weak and dilatory.
" His star we've seen ?" I, too, have seen it sadly ; I, laggard on the track that Kings have run, Crawl toward the goal for which great hearts beat madly. Without avail ? Yet I would worship gladly :
Oh, body of this death, when wilt have done ?
S. H.
THE CHASUBLE.
CS}> /fo Secretary of a Tabernacle Society. II. ORNAMENTATION.
A MONG the Romans a white toga with a purple border was £\_ worn as a distinction by those holding office. Following the custom of the times, as well as' the seemliuess of it for the sacrifice of the Lamb without spot, it is probable that the Eucharistic robe was originally white. In the life of St. John Chrysostom we read that, being about to die, he desired to celebrate the Holy Mysteries and called for the white vestments that he might clothe himself therein. The purple border of the toga, was repeated in the bands of purple, called clam, which adorned the planeta of the Romans. These usually went to the end of the robe and were made rich with arabesques and embroidery ; they varied in elegance according to the wealth and dignity of the wearer. When the planeta passed from profane into ecclsiastical use, these adornments were retained for enriching the sacred vestments of priests and deacons. It is cer- tain that in the first centuries the richest chasubles had a band of stuff of distinctive color back and front. In certain places it took at the back the form of a cross.
In the frescoes of the Cata- combs and in early mosaics, we
111
112
THE CHASUBLE.
see vestments adorned with the bands of purple. This color does not mean the purple of our day. Crimson, blood-red, scarlet, and what we call rose-purple, were all comprised under this name. Sometimes the band was of gold ; it was then called aureus cla.vus, and later Aurifrigium or Orphrey.
From the earliest days of Christianity the spirit of faith delighted to lavish adornment on the vesture of the priest. The historian Anasta- sius speaks much of the beauty and costliness of the sacrificial vestments from the time of the Emperor Aurelian, A. D. 275, until the conver- sion of Constantino after 300, when the sacred ritual naturally became magnificent. Then the scarlet stripe, which bordered the white vestment, began to be exchanged for bands of costlier mate- rial to correspond with the greater splendor of the material of the vestments. Gold, silver, and precious gems made them brilliant ; and images of the Blessed Virgin and of the Saints, or symbolic flowers and animals were embroidered on them, a custom consecrated by the Fathers of the Second Council of Nice, A. D. 787.
A curious fashion sprang up in the Diptych Chasubles, representing the successors of bishops or pontiffs who had governed the Church. One belonging to the Church of St. Apollinaris at Ra- venna bears in needlework the images of thirty- five bishops of Verona, from the third to the sev- enth century. They are in as many medallions on a large band of gold cloth sewed front and back and dividing round the neck. This chasuble was six feet ten inches in length, while the front meas- ured six feet. A few fragments of it yet remain.
The earliest deviation from the straight band or clavus was, according to an English authority on church em-
I
THE CHASUBLE.
113
r«j«\S
I
broidery, what is called the Y- cross, within the fork of which were placed elaborate needlework, gold, and jewels. Dr. Rock says : " The most beautiful and rarest stuffs were sought after to make this ornament (called the 'flower'), which consisted of a mass of rich golden needle- work which spread itself in broad thick branches, sometimes before all over the breast, and always behind upon the higher part of the back and about the shoulders of the chasuble, while all around its neck ran a broad band of gold studded with jewels."
When the Latin cross was introduced the orphreys followed its straight lines ; and figures of Christ, the JBlessed Virgin and the Saints, as well as sacred symbols, were embroidered on it. In the South Kensington Museum, London, many of the sacerdotal vestments of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries are preserved and are a most interesting study of sacred subjects for embroidery and painting.
In mediaeval times, spinning and embroidery were the occupation of women of all ranks. Imi- tating Mary, the Virgin Mother who ' worked and prayed/ pious women delighted in enriching the robes of the house of God with the work of their hands. St. Etheldreda, Queen and first Abbess of Ely, presented to St. Cuthbert a stole and maniple marvellously embroidered and em- bellished with gold and precious stones.
In the tenth century, in France, Queen Adelaide wife of Hugh Capet, presented to the Church of St. Martin at Tours and to the Abbey of St. Denis chasubles of different designs and of wonderful workmanship. Emma, wife of Canute, gave costly vestments to the church at Ely, one of which had been embroidered all over with orphreys by the
114 THE CHASUBLE.
queen herself, and embellished with gold and gems disposed