Cs+h.Gk. in U.S.Ai. /JA&.D53I CATHOLIC PATRIOTISM IN THE UNITED STATES An Echo of the Catholic Patriotic Demon- stration at Washington, D. C., on Mem- orial Day, 1917, in the Plaza Between the Capitol and the Statue of Christopher Columbus Cardinal Gibbons in Attendance SPEECH OF FORMER GOVERNOR MARTIN H. GLYNN OF^NEW YORK ADDRESS Ladies and Gentlemen : — Living examples are better than descriptive words, and, my friends, we have upon this platform to-day three great living examples of Cath- olic patriotism in the United States. As a patriotic American type for men of every race and every creed, I point to Cardinal Gibbons and Chief Justice White and Justice McKenna of the United States Su- preme Court. Their presence here is a more eloquent delineation of Catholic patriotism than any poor words of mine can picture. This is a patriotic demonstration by the Catholics of these United States. But it is a demonstration of emphasis, of recollection, of prophecy; not a demonstration of necessity. The patriotism of the Catholics of the United States is a self-evident proposition. It needs no demonstration: no substantiating evi- dence, no mathematical proof. It is written on every page of this country’s history and no man’s hand can take it out. Catholic patriotism ploughs the At- lantic with Columbus and with Bal- boa it looks upon the Pacific from the peak of Darien. With Leif Eric- son it skirts the shores of Vineland and with Sebastian Cabot sees the snows of Labrador. With De Soto and Marquette it discovers the Mis- sissippi; with Champliain it finds the lake that bears his name; with Cartier it sails the picturesque St. Lawrence; and with Ponce De Leon it seeks the fountain of everlasting youth. With its early missionaries It blazes the trails of our primeval forests, the Cross of Christ in one hand and the banner of civilization in the other. With Verendye it first scales the Rocky mountains, with Menendez it founds St. Augustine, and with Onate starts old Santa Fe upon its way. It draws the first map of the great lakes and writes the first description of Niagara Falls. With C3] Father Mare it finds our mines of torquoise and with Father Hennepin locates our mines of coal; with a Franciscan it finds the salt springs of Onondaga, and with the Jesuits discovers the oil wells of Lake Erie, the copper of Lake Superior and the lead of Illinois. And as it was in the beginning, so it is now and ever will be. “God and Country” was the pillar of cloud by day, the pillar of fire by night of the early Catholics of this country; and “God and Country, Faith and Flag” is the precept and the law of the Catholics of to-day. The patriotism of the Catholics of this country began in 1492, and it will last “Whilst the earth bears a plant And the sea rolls a wave.” This, my friends, is a fitting place; this a fitting day for this celebration. Here before us stands the monu- ment of the people of the nation to Christopher Columbus. Near here, just a few miles away in Maryland over yonder, stands the home of Charles Carroll of Carrollton than whom no man risked more to make this country free. Just below here at Mount Vernon, where the Chesa- peake bears the fragrance of the flowers around his grave out to the meeting of the seas, vdiere the winds sing his requiem among the trees around his tomb, where the rain weeps tears of joy for his glory and his fame and the sun weaves a golden crown above his head sleeps George Washington, who, when the smoke and dust of battle had cleared away and the Revolutionary war was won, wrote a letter of thanks to the Catholics of the United States for the services they rendered in win- ning this country her place in the sisterhood of nations, for the sacri- fices they made in giving this flag its red stripes and white bars and blue field of stars. And to this heritage of patriotism we Catholics are true. We believe that we can live for no better purpose, we can die for no better purpose “than the ashes of our fathers and the altars of our God.” [4] We believe that if we sink to rest in the calm of peace or the hurri- cane of war with our country’s wishes blest “by fairy hands our knell is wrung, by forms unseen our dirge is sung.” We believe that this country has been a haven of lib- erty, a bulwark of protection, a treasury of opportunity to our fa- thers and to us, and, believiing that such it will continue to be to our children and our children’s children, we repeat as religiously as we re- peat our prayers the patriotic senti- ment of these poetic lines:— “Great God, we thank thee for this home, This beauteous birthland of the free, Where strangers from afar may come And breathe the air of liberty. Long may her flowers untrampled spring, Her harvests wave, her cities rise, And yet till time shall fold her wing Remain earth’s loveliest paradise.” And from these sentiments and these cenets we assert that we be- lieve that the Declaration of Inde- pendence is the greatest political exposition of a freedman’s rights ever penned by the hand of man, that the Constitution of these United States is the most luminous chart oy which a nation ever steered a ship of state, that the Star Spangled Banner, with all that it symbolizes and all that it actualizes, is the most glorious flag in the history of man- kind. And, my friends, our patriotism is no mere lip service. It is prac- tical as well as ideal, industrial as well as militaristic, physical as well as vocal. It calls upon man, woman and child alike. It finds illus- tration in a boy digging potatoes in a New England garden in Civil war times. When asked by a stranger what his family was doing for the country’s cause the boy replied, “Well, father is fighting and I am digging and mother is praying.” “Fighting, digging and praying” —that is the stuff real patriotism is made of. And “fighting, digging and pray- ing” is the stuff Catholic patriotism is made of. [ 5 ] Measured by this standard we have won our spur's on the field of battle and written our name large on the industries of peace. We have played the part of the soldier when the war drum throbbed throughout the land, and we havie played the builder’s part when peace smiled upon the avocations of men. We have given our labor to make this country and our blood to save this country. We have cherished the Star Spangled Banner in our hearts and defended it with our hands. In the piping-times of peace we have toiled in the ditches, in the shops, in the marts and on the farm —wherever men and women labor that civilization may grow and happiness increase. In the woeful-day of war we have stood where shot and shell rained thickest and death stalked without a mask. In peace-time and in war-time we Catholics have furnished this country our quota of the men and the women who stand out on the pages of the nation’s history like towering moun- tains on the plain. In peace-time and in war-time we Catholics have furnished our share of the men and the women who though they may set no rivers on fire still make the wheels of life go round; we have furnished our share of the men and women who with reverence in their heart, iron in their blood, and in- spiration in their brains, dp their plain duty each day and for it claim no praise; our share of the toiling, struggling, law-abiding men and women who make up the stamina and strength, the backbone and the life-blood of a republic like this; we have furnished our share of the in- dustrious men and the righteous women who belong to the Grand Army of the Unknown the Unhon- ored and the Unsung, but without whom there will be no song in life, no honor in the world. And to-day, on Memorial Day, Rosemary Day, we Catholics claim our share in the notable contribu- tions to the democracy of the world. To-day, we stand within the shadow of the statue of Christopher Columbus, who four hundred and [ 6 ] twenty-five years ago, with a mantle of Catholicity on his shoulders and the Cross of Catholicity in his hands, fell on his knees and chanted a Te Deum for the discovery of this land. That Te Deum of Christopher Columbus inaugurated a new chapter in the annals of mankind and fore- told a form of government where the voice of the people is the voice of God. That Te Deum heralded a land where kings would pass away and manhood wear the crown; a land where the oppressed of the world would find liberty and peace and prosperity under the flag of oppor- tunity and hope. That Te Deum foretold a land where the ballot is mightier than the bullet, where lips and hands are unfettered, where brains are the master of destiny, where labor wears a royal coat of arms, where men reap what they sow, where the weak find protection and the strong bow to a rule of law. That Te Deum gave an impetus to human liberty, religious freedom and individual rights which rewrote the law books of the world, hurled au- tocracy in the abyss of decay and placed justice on the throne once occupied by kingly whims. The discovery of America, my friends, was the most momentous contribution to the cause of democ- racy since the advent of Christ. Christ preached the message of de- mocracy on the Mount, and to it America gave political application. The Sermon on the Mount is the in- spiration of democracy; the epistles of St. Paul its proclamation. With its fetters of tradition, its love of caste, its repugnance to progress, the old world, however, stunted the growth of democracy. For its growth a new world was needed. And for the discovery of this new world, where democracy could grow and spread around the globe, a Catholic Monk gave his eloquence, a Catho- lic King gave his treasure, a Catholic Queen gave her jewels, and a Catho- lic Navigator gave himself, his en- ergy and his brains. Yes, this is Memorial Day, Rose- mary Day, a day of remembrance, when the nation makes a pilgrimage [ 7 ] to the temple wherein is enshrined the memories of the men who have served their country wrell and who deserve t'heir country’s praise. This is the day when roses and lilies and violets—with their red, their white and their blue—scattered over our heroes’ graves, speak more eloquent- ly than the tongue of man can ever speak. This is the day when we gather “the ashes of our honored dead into the urn of immortality and write their names on the nation’s roll of honor.” And so to-day we Catholics love to tell the names of our own on the nation’s roll of honor as we lovingly tell the beads of our Rosary. We love to remember that the Magna Charta, the inspiration of our own Declaration of Independence, the foundation stone of the Constitution of these United States, was wrested from old King John by Cardinal Langton and the Catholic Barons of England. We love to remember that the Gospel of Christ was first preached on this continent by Catholic priests from Spain, and that for Civilization and Christianity Father Jocques and seven other priests died as martyrs die. We love to remember that Las Casas, our first ordained priest, was the first anti-slavery advocate in this Western Hemisphere. We love to remember that Antoine Cadillac founded Detroit and vizual- ized the interlake canals. We love to remember that years and years before the Colonies began to fight for it in 1776, Lord Balti- more had written into the charter of Catholic Maryland the inspira- tional principle of “no taxation with- out representation.” We love to remem,ber that George Calvert of Maryland and Governor Dongan of New York gave this coun- try its first examples of freedom in religious worship. We love to remember that Charles Carroll once said, “If there was a single Catholic traitor to the cause of the American Colonies in the Revolutionary war, the world never heard of him.” [ 8 ] I We love to remember that while Benedict Arnold was accepting traitorous gold from England’s king and giving as one of the excuses for his being a traitor his objec- tion to associating with so many Catholics in the American army — there was a Catholic officer in the American Revolutionary navy who refused a bribe of a hundred thou- sand dollars from Lord Howe to sur- render the good ship Effingham. And as he refused the bribe this Catholic officer said, “Go tell Old King George he has not enough gold in all his realm to buy a single hair on the head of Saucy Jack Barry.” Thank God, there never has been, and, praise God, there never will be a Catholic Benedict Arnold in these United States. We love to remember how the “Colonials” applauded as Pulaski fought, and “Freedom shrieked when Koscinszko fell.” We love to remember how Charles Carroll and Father Carroll, assisted by Benjamin Franklin and Samuel Chase on that mission to our broth- ers of the North, would have made Canada a part of these United States; if John Jay and others had not written impolitic letters. We love to remember that in June, 1780, an assembly of Catholic priests and Catholic bishops from every district of France contributed six million dollars to the cause of American freedom, and to raise this six million dollars these Catholic bishops and these Catholic priests mortgaged every acre and every edifice of the Catholic Church in France. Oh, yes, we love to remember how Catholic France loaned us sixty-six million francs to win the Revolu- tionary war; how the Catholic sol- diers and sailors under Lafayette, Rochambeau and De Grasse com- prised fifty per cent and more of the American forces under Washington that smashed Cornwallis at York- town and forever banished foreign domination from this land. We love to remember how Father Peter Gibault helped give the Great Northwest to these United States — how he handed over every dollar he [ 9 ] had in the world to aid Clark in that historic expedition and from this government never received a single cent in return; how he won old Vin- cennes over to our cause without firing a gun, and how for his work Judge Law writes, “Next to Clark and Vigo the United States are more indebted to Father Gibault than to any other man for the accession of the states embraced in what was for- merly the northwestern territory. ” We love to remember how the only Catholic priest who ever held a seat in Congress was the pioneer of this country’s Good Road movement from which we enjoy untold blessings to- day. His name was Father Rich- ards, Gabriel Richards. He was a Congressman from Michigan, the companion of Louis Cass and the friend of Henry Clay. To him be- longs the honor of conducting the fight that first committed this gov- ernment to the policy of building roads and bridges within the con- fines of the states. Of Father Rich- ards, though, we like especially to remember that he was such an uncompromising, such an ardent and such an eloquent patriot in 1812 that when he dared to cross the Detroit river into Canada he was taken a prisoner of war by the English military officials and held a prisoner until the treaty of Ghent was signed. Oh, yes, this is Memorial Day, and we love to call the roll of honor of our own. Come forth, Stephen Moylan, and tell us how you lead the dragoons in every battle in which Washing- ton participated. Come forth, Charles Carroll, and tell us how you signed the Declara- tion of Independence though a king’s hangman threatened you with his rope; come forth, Daniel Carroll and Thomas Fitzsimmons, and tell us how you signed the Constitution of the United States though a king’s axeman threatened you with his axe. Come forth, John Carroll, first bishop of the United States, and tell how the Congress of this nation se- lected you to pronounce the panegyric over Washington, when time had sheathed his sword and enshrined [ 10 ] him among the Immortals of man- kind. Come forth, Fighting Jack Barry, thou Father of the American Navy, come forth and tell us how your sallies on the sea brought $3,000,000 home to make this country free; come forth and tell us how one hour after your ship was burned on the Delaware, you converted your sail- ors into soldiers and marched away to join Washington at Trenton; tell us of thy battles on the land and sea which made the poet write “There are gallant hearts whose glory Columbia loves to name, Whose deeds shall live in glory And everlasting fame; But no man ever braver Our Starry Banner bore Than Saucy Old Jack Barry, The Irish Commodore.” And now, Great Makers, and Saviors of this glorious land, I sum- mon you as everlasting witnesses of Catholic patriotism to these United States. George Washington, I summon thee from Shadowland, to write anew your famous letter of recognition of Catholic service to the winning of our freedom and the founding of our nation—I summon thee, George Washington, to tell how Bishop John Carroll helped you maintain neu- trality between England and France while ten thousand howling fanatics gathered about the White House and threatened to drag you from the Presidential chair. And Thomas Jefferson, I summon thee from Shadowland, to tell how while others attacked you, every Catholic pulpit in the country sup- ported you, as you flung the Star- Spangled Banner over the Louisiana Tract and sent it on its march to the Golden Gate of the Western sea. And James Madison, I summon thee, to tell how certain influences, especially in New England, almost universally opposed you in the war of 1812—while every Uatholic in New England, and everywhere else in the country, zealously supported you that our seamen might be free- men and our flag sail the seas in majesty and peace. [ 11 ] And Andrew Jackson, come tell us how Catholics from Louisiana helped you win the battle of New Orleans. And James K. Polk, from Shadow- land I summon thee, to tell that while in the war with Mexico in 1846 opponents sang the siren song of bigotry, the vampire cry of hate,—every Catholic influence in the land, in congress and out of congress, when country called/helped you plant our Star of Empire o’er the stretches of the Great Southwest. Come tell us, President Polk, that while others hampered you, Bishop England of Charleston, Judge Wil- liam Gaston of North Carolina and Governor Edwin Kavanaugh of Maine upheld your hands as Aaron and Hur upheld the hands of Moses in his battle with Amalek. And Abraham Lincoln—keeper of a nation’s heart and treasurer of a nation’s tears,—I summon thee from thy celestial mansion to tell us how John Hughes, Archbishop of New York, crossed the seas and kept France from trying to wreck the Union; to tell how Bishop Dominic of Pittsburgh crossed the seas and kept Spain from trying to make this a land of two flags and two nations. And Ulysses S. Grant, I summon thee from the eternal camping ground whereon you tent to-day, to tell us of the thousands of valorous Catholics who fought the Union’s cause from Bull Run all the way to Appomattox; of Francis Meagher and the valiant Irish heroes of the Fighting Sixty-ninth; to tell us how the spirit of Napoleon found re- incarnation in that dashing, crash- ing, unbeaten and unbeatable Irish- Catholic soldier, Little Phil Sheri- dan, than whom you said “No greater general ever lived”—of whom your soldiers sang “There is one we love to call our own, Renowned by sword and pen; His plume alone, where’er it shown Was worth ten thousand men. ’Twas he snatched victory from de- feat, Our heart’s commander still, Where’er we meet, his name we greet, Our matchless Little Phil.” [ 12 ] And from the pages of history step down, you multitudinous Catho- lic soldiers, you countless Catholic sailors, who played your part so splendidly in the recent war with Spain. And before I leave this topic let me paint you a picture forever traced on the retina of my eye. When our valiant dead were brought home from Vera Cruz in 1914, I stood beside the President of the United States as he delivered that wonderful panegyric over our soldier dead; and, as the inspiring words of our President fell upon my ears my heart sang with joy as I remembered that a goodly propor- tion of these patriotic martyrs whom the President extolled and to whom the assembled thousands paid silent tribute were Roman Catholic boys who had proved their blood to be as red, their skin as white, their veins as blue, as the Red, the White and the Blue of the flag which crowned their coffins. And now to the Southland I turn and I summon Robert E. Lee and Jefferson Davis and the other lead- ers of the Confederacy to tell us of Father Ryan, who sang for a cause and fought for a. cause, and when that cause was lost, like all brave sons of the South, returned to this nation with the Flag of the Lost Cause entwined in the folds, en- wrapped in the sisterly embrace of the Old Stars and Stripes. And now to the Seats of the Mighty here at Washington I turn, to the Capital of the Nation, and I summon the present President of the United States, the members of his Cabinet, the members of Congress, the Generals of our Army and the Admirals of our Naviy, as witnesses to the living fact that as Catholics in past wars rallied to Washing- ton and Jefferson and Madison and Polk and Lincoln, so in the present war the Catholics of to-day will rally to the support of Woodrow Wilson, President of the United States. And as they rallied to Washing- ton to make this nation; as they rallied to Lincoln to save this nation; so they will rally to Wood- row Wilson to plant the flag of [13] democracy so high on the citadel of time that no man’s hand can ever pull it down, so they will rally to Woodrow Wilson “to write our scroll of honor o’er the sea and make the broad Atlantic roll a ferry to the free.” “From the North and the South, the East and the West, they will rally with the sentiment in their hearts, the cry upon their lips, “My country, may she always be right, but right or wrong, my country, shoulder arms and forward march!” There are fourteen million Catho- lics within the United States,—four- teen million Catholics, of whom, ac- cording to accepted statistical ratios, twenty-eight hundred thousand are men of fighting military age. In ’61, my friends, in the Civil War, the Union soldiers sang “We Are Com- ing, Father Abraham, Three Hun- dred Thousand Strong.” In 1917, in this war, we Catholics sing—We Are Coming, Father Woodrow, Twenty- Eight Hundred Thousand Strong, Ready for the Battle and Eager for the Call: We Are Coming, Father Woodrow, Twenty-Eight Hundred Thousand Strong, Fourteen Million Hearts Behind Us, Fourteen Million Minds to Guide Us, Fourteen Million Lives to Bind Us to Our Country and Her Cause. So to-day we Catholics of the nation place all that we have and all that we hope to have, all that we are and all that we hope to be upon the resplendent shrine of our nation and the majestic altar of our country. And when we sing “My Country ’tis of thee”—the greatness of Amer- ica surges over our understanding, the splendid hope of America fills our hearts. And inspired by that hope, strengthened by that under- standing, we Catholics of the United States to-day and every other day cry out so that all the world may hear —“My Country ’tis of thee, to thee we offer our hearts and hands, our strength and talents, our nights and days, that all thy children, now and forever, may reap the full fruition of happiness and freedom under the star gemmed banner of liberty and hope. [14] And then inspired hy the spirit of our sires, inflamed by our own hearts’ desire we turn to this old flag of ours and sing:— “Your Flag and my Flag, And how it waves to-day. O’er your land and my land And half the world away; Rose-red and blood-red Its stripes forever gleam; Snow-white and soul-white The good forefathers dream; Sky-blue and true-blue With stars that shine aright, A glorious guidon of the day, A shelter through the night.” “Your Flag and my Flag And, oh! how much it holds Of your heart and my heart Secure within its folds. Your heart and my heart Beat quicker at its sight Sun-kissed and wind-tossed The red, and blue and white, — The one Flag, the great Flag, The Flag for me and you, Glorified, all else beside, The Red, the White, and Blue.” L15J