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EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
BY THE SAME AUTHOR.
LUKE DELMEGE : a Novel. Crown 8vo, 65.
GLENANAAR : a Novel. Crown 8vo, 65.
'LOST ANGEL OF A RUINED PARADISE.'
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UNDER THE CEDARS AND THE STARS.
Crown 8vo, 55. net.
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EARLY ESSAYS
AND
LECTURES
CANON SHEEHAN, D.D.
AUTHOR OF "LUKE DELMEGE," ETC.
LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.
39 PATERNOSTER ROW, LONDON
NEW YORK AND BOMBAY
1906
PREFACE
I HAVE disinterred these short essays and lectures
from several magazines, some of ancient, some
of more modern date, at the solicitation of a
few well-wishers in Ireland and America, who
have expressed a desire to possess them in
a combined and permanent form. And for this
reason, and also because I have marked them as
" early essays," I present them just as they were
originally written and published, without addition
or modification, believing that those who have ex-
pressed a wish to possess them would prefer to
have them in the shape in which they originally
appeared. Hence, perhaps, some of these papers
will appear out of date just now, when we have
forged so far ahead of the time when such subjects
were deeply interesting. But I hope the greater
number will be considered of more permanent
and vital interest, as they embrace questions that
are not of to-day, nor yesterday, but of lasting
vi PREFACE
human importance. It is quite possible that if
I were to write on these subjects now, I would
treat them in a different manner, and perhaps in
a modified style. But they are at least a record
of certain phases of thought on problems of great
moment during a literary novitiate, extending
over many years.
CONTENTS
ESSAYS
PAGE
I. Religious Instruction in Intermediate Schools . . 3
II. In a Dublin Art Gallery 17
III. Emerson 39
IV. Free-Thought in America 53
V. The German Universities (I.) 68
VI. The German Universities (II.) 85
VII. The German Universities (in.) ..... 102
Vni. The German and Gallic Muses 117
IX. Eecent Augustinian Literature 184
X. The Poetry of Matthew Arnold 150
XI, Recent Works on St. Augustine 165
XII. Aubrey de Vere (A Study) 191
viii CONTENTS
LECTUEES
PAGE
I. Irish Youth and High Ideals 209
II. The Two Civilisations 232
III. The Fiftieth Anniversaey of O'Connell's Death , 256
IV. Our Personal and Social Eesponsibilities . . . 271
V. The Study of Mental Science 296
VI. Certain Elements op Character 310
VII. The Limitations and Possibilities of Catholic
Literature 333
ESSAYS
KELIGIOUS INSTKUCTION IN INTEK-
MEDIATE SCHOOLS.!
EvEEY decade of years in our century brings a fresh
revolution in thought, and every revolution means an
advance, and every advance, if not properly directed, is
a positive retrogression. I am writing from a Catholic
standpoint, from which it is abundantly clear that the
activity of individual thought and the interchange of
ideas amongst men, if not restrained or controlled by
the Gospel teaching, must lead inevitably to that refined
atheism with which we are not altogether unacquainted,
and which to thoughtful minds is more repulsive than
even squalid barbarism. This reflection is of the utmost
importance at the present time when the national pas-
sion for knowledge has been stimulated by competition
for rewards, and artfully directed into those grooves
which modern thought has worked out for itself. The
Intermediate Education Act was hailed as a measure
of infinite good to the youth of Ireland ; its Board was
constituted without an objection ; its programmes have
been issued and accepted almost without demur ; and
its adjudications received as impartial judgments made
by enlightened and liberal minds. On all hands it has
been pronounced a success ; and if in these pages I
point out a few dangerous tendencies, I desire to guard
myself against the suspicion that I am contravening
public opinion. I merely wish to point out the dangers
that would arise if the framers of that Act could follow
out their own designs ; and if ample precautions be not
' Irish Ecclesiastical Record, September, 1881.
1*
4 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
taken to supply palpable defects, and neutralise in the
working of the Act whatever is positively hurtful.
Although this paper is a consideration of the ethical
rather than the educational aspects of the system, limited
to secular studies and secular advantages, I cannot re-
frain from quoting an extract from Sir Charles Dilke's
work, Greater Britain, to show the tendency of modern
American thought on the subject of competitive and
elective systems of education. These conclusions have
been accepted by the Michigan and Cambridge Univer-
sities after experiments which, if not prolonged, were
certainly exhaustive : —
" The system of elective studies pursued at Michigan
is one to which we are year by year tending in the
Enghsh Universities. The Michigan professors say,
and Dr. Hedges bears them out, that a far higher
average of real knowledge is obtained under this system
of independent work than is dreamt of in colleges where
competition rules. They acknowledge frankly that there
is here and there a student to be found to whom com-
petition would do good. As a rule they tell us this is
not the case. Unlimited battle between man and man
for place is sufficiently the bane of the world not to be
made the curse of schools. Competition breeds every
evil which it is the aim of education, the duty of a
university, to suppress — pale faces, caused by excessive
toil, feverish excitement that prevents true work, a
hatred of the subject on which the toil is spent, jealousy
of best friends, systematic depreciation of men's talents,
rejection of all reading that will not pay, extreme and
unhealthy cultivation of the memory, general degra-
dation of labour — all these evils and many more are
charged upon the system."
Such are the doctrines evolved from the free, un-
fettered experience of Young America. They are worthy
of consideration in this land of ancient ideas.
One of those rare minds that can at a glance foresee
consequences said to the present writer immediately after
the passing of the Act of 1878 : " The Tories have out-
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 5
witted the Irish priesthood at last. They have intro-
duced into the primary and secondary schools, and they
will introduce into the university scheme, the system
of payment by results ; and the consequences will be
that in a short time your whole educational system,
from the lowest bench in the country school to the aida
maxima of the university, will be thoroughly secularised."
That there is some foundation for these forebodings is
a fact beyond dispute. The dangerous tendencies of
the system in elementary education have been already
explained in two thoughtful articles that have appeared
in the Record ; but, practically, they can be minimised
by the careful supervision of the managers, by peri-
odical examinations in religious knowledge, by epis-
copal visitations ; and they would be entirely removed
if the system of diocesan inspection, recommended by
the Synod of Maynooth, were introduced into Ireland.
The extraordinary advantages of this system are well
known to those who have visited England, and who
must have been struck by the zeal of the teachers and
the proficiency of the children, not only in Christian
doctrine, but in Scripture and ecclesiastical history, and
the devotional practices and ceremonies of the Catholic
Church. To obviate therefore the dangers in the primary
system, nothing more is required than a patient and
precise use of the remedies at our disposal.
The case is quite different in Intermediate schools.
For here we are dealing with men, not with children ;
with ready and eager intellects, not with infantine, un-
developed minds ; not with youths, impatient of study
and confinement, but with those who are filled with a
passion for knowledge and the ambition of excelling ;
and here there is an evident and powerful temptation
to neglect religious knowledge, which apparently can
be of no practical utility in the race of life, in favour of
the technical and secular learning that is rewarded not
by exhibitions alone, but by the larger prizes which
years will bring. We live in a utilitarian age. Every-
thing must subsidise secular advancement. Spiritual
6 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and intangible things must subordinate themselves to
visible advantages of v^ealth and position. This is the
teaching of the age. This is the cardinal heresy of our
century. And this cui bono doctrine has penetrated our
colleges and schools, and masters and scholars alike are
subject to its influence. The former consult for the
interests of the college ; and for the tv^elve months prior
to the examinations dream of nothing but the place the
college will take in the columns of the Freeman's Journal
in September. The latter strain every faculty that they
may v^^in honours and gladden their parents' hearts by
carrying off exhibitions and prizes. Perhaps there is
anger and mortification from failures during former
years, perhaps a very exalted position that must be
maintained. But there is certainly every incentive to
vs^ork for money and honours, and every temptation to
neglect and set aside altogether the rehgious knowledge,
on which neither teachers, nor commissioners, nor the
world will set a premium.
The consequences of such neglect to the individual
and to society cannot well be exaggerated. For let us
remember again that the question now is, not of chil-
dren in whose minds the absence of positive knowledge
will leave blank ignorance and nothing more, but of
matured intellects, restless, active, and inquiring, and
far more receptive and retentive of the knowledge that
is unto death than of the v^sdom that giveth life. In
such minds we can never find the vacuity of sheer
ignorance. The want of a thorough, detailed, and com-
prehensive knowledge of Catholic theology, will even-
tuate in the adoption of those attractive philosophic
conjectures, that constitute the literature and almost
the religion of the day, and which are so vaporous and
unsound, yet, withal, so grandly spiritual, that they have
been well called " the dreams of fallen angels ".
Even on a lower level there are dangers not the less
perilous because more prosaic. History forms a depart-
ment in these examinations ; and to reach the required
standard, history must be read as a philosophical system,
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 7
and not merely as a narrative of facts and events. That
system of mnemonics with which we are familiar — the
laborious compilation of dates and names in the mind —
is altogether superseded. The senior grade student is
now educated to approach his Lingard or Smith with
something of the critical tastes and comprehensive
views which he has been taught to admire in Hume or
Schlegel. He must collate facts, question authorities,
make allowances for religious prejudices, and in a short
time he will be disposed to take a broad liberal view of
things, which to his inexperienced mind will mean the
rejection of everything he has learned by sound tradi-
tion, and the acceptance of new theories founded very
often on the grossest distortion of facts. He will read
profane history without the sidelights of ecclesiastical
history. He will forget or disbelieve the patent truth
that history can be made to prove anything ; and he
will think himself advancing to the light when he has
been deceived by the dexterity of the playwright. And
the supervision of a Catholic tutor will be of httle use.
The student has formed his opinion on the subject, and
he will look on his preceptor as a judge regards the
special pleader who is feed to prove, in spite of all evi-
dence to the contrary, that right is wrong, that black is
white. Botany and zoology must be studied. What
better manual on the subject than the text-book of the
College of Science, Darioin on Sioecies ? Natural philo-
sophy i must be read. There are Tyndall's admirable
treatises on Light and Heat. Pure mathematics are
bracketed with 2,000 marks. No ancient or modern
writer excels in this logical and deductive science the
young atheist, Clifford, who a few months ago, in
Madeira, breathed his last, and "vanished," as he be-
lieved, " into the infinite azure of the past ". These are
the first writers that have clothed the dry skeletons of
facts and figures with rhythmic nervous rhetoric, and
struck musical poems out of the dumb cold statue of
science. Our young enthusiast cannot help admiring
their transcendent talents. The admiration develops
8 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
into hero-worship. If he have a real love for his work,
they become his saints as surely as Savonarola becomes
the idol of the ecclesiastical zealot. And in the cycle of
time and thought the suspicion darkens his mind for
the first time — perhaps, after all, these men are not
deceived in their higher speculations. Can it be that
the traditions of my youth are but nursery tales ? If
Borne is in antagonism with reason, where is truth?
In the new revival this temptation is inevitable. It
will arise from scientific or Hterary research as surel}^ as
miasma arises from the prairie mould that is turned for
the first time. It is onl}^ indifference to the students'
highest interests that can believe these dangers proble-
matical. And what provision have we made ? Where
is the prop for staggered faith ? Where the light for
darkened minds ? Is it not a fact that the catechism
of the hedge-schools of fifty years ago is the religious
class-book of the senior grade student of to-day ? And
surely no one can suppose that the categorical question
and answer on the rudiments of religion is sufficient to
meet systematised infidehty, supported by logic that is
incisive enough even to well-trained minds, and pre-
sented in the finest sentences into which the English
language can be moulded.
There is no taste or passion, for it might well be
called a passion, so powerful as the taste for literature.
It is so exalted, so refining, so free from objections, that
it may be indulged at will ; and it has pleasures and
fascinations that are second only to those that are en-
joyed l)y students of the fine arts. The music of poetry,
the subtle analyses of human character that are con-
stantly found in novels, the glowing and luscious de-
scriptions of scenery, and, above all, the high philosophy
that deifies man's intellect and humanity — all these must
have an inexpressible charm for a young and enthusias-
tic mind eager to measure itself with the boundless in-
finity of knowledge. It takes many years and much
experience to humble the human mind, and force man
to confess that after all he is but
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 9
An infant crying in the night,
An infant crying for the light,
And with no language but a cry.
The eager schoolboy does not admit it. He must have
knowledge . even though it be forbidden. And what
that forbidden knowledge is, let those tell who have
tasted the fruit and known the sickness of shattered
faiths and dreary doubtings, and that terrible darkness
that supervenes on partial or total unbelief. And they
can tell, too, how a sentence or a phrase will often
raise doubts and questionings that derive substance and
authority from the ability of the writer. And I appeal
to universal experience to testify, that all the literature
of the day, home and foreign, poetic or philosophic,
didactic or narrative, in books, magazines and news-
papers, is filled not only with phrases and sentences, but
w^ith powerfully developed arguments and elaborated
sarcasms against the Church and Revelation and God.
And it is only a healtliy, well-strung, and thoughtfully
pious mind that can withstand their influence.
I can, however, imagine the reader saying : " What
does a boy who is puzzled over the particles of the
Anabasis, or an irregular verb in Athalie, know of Comte,
or Frederic Harrison, or Swedenborg, or Mill? And is
there not an impassable gulf between the mind of the
young girl who is spelling out the chromatic scale, and
the mighty darkened intellect of George Eliot ? Are
they not infinitely more interested about their marks at
the examinations than about man's future, or the sacer-
dotal system, or the perfectibifity of human nature?"
They who say so know but little of the popular culture
or the ambitious tastes of the day, and make little ac-
count of signs and proofs that daily pass l)efore their
eyes. There is no country in the world in which this
passion for literature has taken such firm hold of the
professional and mercantile classes as in Ireland ; and I
venture to say that in Cork, Limerick, or Dublin there
will be found a larger average of young men acquainted
with current literature than in Manchester itself, the
10 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
centre of English thought and progress. Celtic talent
is very versatile, but it is fond of running in Hterary
lines. More than half the editors of American news-
papers have been born and educated in Ireland ; and
every department of literature in England is illustrated
by the subtle genius of our race.
Last winter I travelled a short distance by rail with
a young commercial, who could not have been more
than twenty years of age. When he had pulled the
collar of his greatcoat around his ears, donned his
travelling cap, and carefully wrapped his rug around
his feet, he took from his valise, to my utter astonish-
ment, the Latter-day Pamphlets of Carlyle, and laid on
the cushion as a reserve the last number of a periodical
published in London and Dublin, which has for con-
tributors some of the most notorious atheists in England,
and which admits every shade of opinion, no matter how
advanced, provided it be representative of modern ideas.
And who does not know that if educated women still
take the Young Ladies' Journal for dress patterns and
fashions, they seek sentiment in The Sorrotvs of Werther
and piquant philosophy in Faust ? A httle brochure,
lately published in Dublin, shows what I mean. It is
called A Son of Man, and is a faithful illustration of the
" calm despair and wild unrest " that must inevitably
follow from advanced secular education, without a re-
ligious training, simultaneous and commensurate. And
I might take as a text one of the sayings of the victim
of the story, who, writing from the university, declares
that "when one commences to study botany and physi-
ology, he must soon forget Revelation and all supernatural
religion ". From the tone of the work it is evident that
the writer has seen all the evils to which I am adverting ;
but the exalted tastes and comprehensive readings of the
day could not be better exemplified than by the author,
for that tale could not have been written without an
intimate knowledge of German habits, the German
language and hterature, which years ago attracted the
fancies and tastes of advanced thinkers like Shelley
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 11
and Coleridge and Carlyle, but are now familiar in all
educated circles, and to students even of incipient literary
tastes. And if our typical boy is now busy with dialects
and accents, he will soon pass from this chrysalis state
with tastes formed, and developing with riper knowledge.
We, too, remember painfully guessing with lexicon and
grammar the Sphinx riddle of the GSdipus. We read it
now, not as a task, but as a splendid tragedy. And he
will revert to his studies ^ to discover in them not dif-
ficulties but beauties ; and the transition is easy from
ancient to modern tragedy, from ^schylus to Swinburne,
and easier still from Racine to Voltaire, from the essays
of Bacon and Macaulay to those of Carlyle and Arnold,
from the ballad poetry of Scott to the mystic, involved,
and refined metaphysics of Emerson, who classifies the
Divine author of Christianity with Shakspeare and
Plato :—
One in a Judsean mangei'.
One by the Avon's sti'eam.
One over against the mouth of Nile,
And one at the Academe.
And if habits of restraint and self-respect be not
engrafted in him by the discipline of his college career,
he may also become liberal in his ethics, and easy in his
morals, and may learn in time, with the exponent of
our latest school of poetry, to despise
The languor and lilies of virtue
For the raptures and roses of vice.
The consequences, therefore, of this revival of thought,
if not wisely restrained or directed, must be mournful
in the extreme. Admiration is soon succeeded by imita-
tion. It is hard to admire the style without adopting
the sentiment ; and it must be admitted that in our day
English writers have brought style to a perfection that
^ " The love of study is in us almost the only eternal passion.
All the others quit us in proportion as this miserable machine
which holds them approaches its ruin." — Montesquieu.
12 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
was undreamt of in the days of Johnson and even of
Macaulay. And the more daring the impiety of the
idea, the more resonant and thrilhng is the language
that articulates it. It is a strange and significant fact
that Catholic writers cannot catch the fire and the glow
that illuminate every page of profane literature. Since
the Oxford revival, England has heen crying for its
Catholic poet, who is to eclipse the great pagan poets
of the day, and awaken by his music the faith that is
fondly believed to be dormant, but not dead, in the
hearts of the English people. He is not forthcoming ;
and meanwhile human love has its lyrists, and philo-
sophy its doctors, and even vice has its hierophants, and
the priests of Baal are silver-tongued, and they ring
out their new teachings with an audacity that must
carry conviction to weak minds. And if the ears of
our youth be enchanted, who is to defend their reason,
or take the poison from the food that is honey in their
mouths? Will they believe that the wisdom of the
world is folly before God, or appreciate the subhme
humility of the apostle who, from his reverence for
truth, would not condescend to use " the persuasive
words of human eloquence " ? How will the intellects,
trained to believe in the majesty and grandeur of the
human mind, suffer to have their belief shaped for them
by the Divine dogmatism of the Church? How will
they bend before the village curate, whose knowledge,
however great, is mediaeval, and whose ideas are so
reactionary, to acknowledge their weaknesses, and beg
pardon for their transgressions ? How can they, whose
ears are filled with the pet phrases of some German
transcendentalist, listen to the Sunday homily according
to the Petite Methode of St. Alphonsus, the gravity and
monotony of which are unrefieved by one racy expres-
sion or one bold idea ? Of course the semblance of
religion will still be maintained. They know that
" free-thinker " is a word that means unutterable things
to the minds of our faithful people, and the priest is
still a power in the land, and there is the dispensary
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 13
to be competed for, and the suffrages of clients for the
Petty Sessions Court to be obtained. But reHgion is
not the active principle of their lives ; and take away
the restraints imposed by the character of our people,
put our young and clever professionals in the mess-
room of an English barrack, or on the deck of a British
troop-ship, throw them amongst literary men in London,
or into the fierce battle of life that is fought out in
America, and very soon they will lay aside the mask,
talk of religion and country with the easy levity of a
Frenchman, and supply the lost objects of early faith
with ambitious dreams, or limit their belief, hke Mill,
to the caprices of a woman.
How is all this to be prevented ? The Intermediate
Education Act is practically irrevocable. It has passed
from its tentative state, and stands endorsed with the
nation's approval. And its principles have been taken
up, and are about to be developed and applied to a broad
liberal measure of university education. And we, who
are particularly interested in this vital subject, have seen
with pleasure the nation's pulses quicken under the
new-born ambition of proving itself again a nation of
scholars. We have witnessed with pleasure the excite-
ment that has thrilled the entire country, when the
hope was given to it of realising and exhibiting all the
grand things that its orators and poets have said and
sung. We see the universal interest excited when the
results are given to the country, and it is a novel and
pleasant experience to behold the farmer or labourer,
whose son is in the favoured class in the national school,
quite as hopeful and as eager to see the list of prizes,
as the city merchant or professional man whose child is
in the first bench at Blackrock or St. Colman's. But
the system is not complete. It does not form a perfect
man. As a means to a projected end, it is very nearly
successful. But the end and object of the Act are not
quite in unison with the views of the Church on educa-
tion. The Christian ideal does not enter into the cal-
culations of premiers. The Vivian Grey of Beaconsfield
14 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
is not quite a model for Irish youth. We have higher
aspirations. Our ambition does not expend itself in
sending year after year into public life, the clever, flip-
pant, and sensuous youth, that graduate in English public
schools or in Parisian lycees. But if these secularists do
their part, why should not we do ours, and establish in all
our intermediate schools a system of religious instruc-
tion adequate to the wants of the age, correlative with
the secular system, and made obligatory either by epis-
copal supervision or by public criticism, that can be
directed on religious as well as intellectual advance-
ment ? This has not yet been done. There is no such
thing as a system of religious instruction in our schools.
There are, perhaps, the Catechism lessons and the weekly
lecture ; but who will say that these are commensurate
with the rapid development of thought and taste that
are generated by superior systems of education ?
It is not the object of this paper to formulate such a
system or enter into its details. I merely paraphrase
the many words of wisdom that have been spoken on
this subject by the leaders of thought among ourselves.
And perhaps this application of great principles to
present necessities will not be unacceptable to that
great brotherhood, the Irish priesthood, into whose
hands the gift of Irish faith is committed.
From every side we receive warnings of the inception
of a great apostasy amongst the nations of the earth.
They come to us in grave and earnest admonitions from
the princes and pastors of the Church, and in the loud
and defiant vauntings of the prophets of agnosticism in
England and America. Ten years ago the great prelate
who rules the Cathohc Church in England said : " There
is a period setting in — not for the whole world, not for
the Church of God, but for individuals, races and nations
— of a departure from faith, in which the human reason
will have to wander once more alone without guide or
certainty ; not, indeed, as it did before, but in a worse
state, in a state which is, in truth, a dwarfing and a
degradation of the human intelligence ". And again :
RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION 15
" I am old enough to know that, forty years ago, men
believed more than they believe now, that doctrines
were then held as indisputable which are now openly
disputed ". And again : " I will try to bring before you
the signs or marks of this rising or revolt of the intellect
of men that were once Christians, and to show that the
intelligence of Christian nations has, in these last ages,
begun to manifest the phenomena and signs of a depar-
ture from faith, which shows that there is a current
carrying the minds of men away from faith in Christ
and in God unto the darkness of unbelief ". ^ And the
following contains the pith and marrow of the philo-
sophy of morality advocated by one of the boldest of
modern scientists : —
" Sin is a word that has helped to retard moral and
social progress more than anything. Nothing is good
or bad, but thinking makes it so ; and the superstitious
and morbid way in which a number of entirely innocent
things have been banned as sin, has caused more than
half the tragedies of the world. Science will establish
an entirely new basis of morality ; and the sunlight of
rational approbation will shine on many a thing hitherto
overshadowed by the curse of a hypothetical God." '-^
To prevent the adoption of these pernicious doctrines
by our Irish youth must be the proximate and pressing
duty of those to whom the faith and morals of the
rising generation are largely entrusted. There is sound
material for a new knighthood of chivalrous faith and
virtue, if all the generous impulses and ideas of virgin
minds and hearts be swayed by the convictions that have
hitherto governed our people. The possibilities that
the future has in store for Ireland are unlimited. Every-
thing depends on our foresight and activity. If religious
instruction be practically eliminated from our pubhc
schools, by not being raised to a level of importance
with secular learning, we shall not remain a high-
* Manning, The Four Great Evils of the Day.
^ Mallook, The New Eepublic.
16 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
principled race nor become a cultured one. For, as
Emerson says, " The foundation of culture, as of char-
acter, is at last the moral sentiment ". But if, to use
the well-known figure, human knowledge be made to
take its place side by side with its elder sister, the
wisdom that is from above, — we may hope to see in our
own time our Irish youth abreast of the youth of other
nations in the rush of progression, with large compre-
hensive knowledge, ready wit and facile eloquence, and
with all their generous impulses and enthusiasm swayed
and directed by loyalty to Mother Church and Mother
Ireland.
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY.^
" For the artists of our age are steadily turning their
eyes from the saints, and madonnas, and martyrs of the
past, and finding in Nature alone the fittest subjects for
their pencils," etc. This statement, taken almost liter-
ally from the speech of the late Lord Beaconsfield at
the Academy banquet, 1879, and expressive of the
speaker's desires as well as of his opinions, irresistibly
came to mind as we gazed on its most emphatic contra-
diction in one of the noblest works of modern art, the
famous picture by Sir Noel Paton, " Satan Watching
the Sleep of Christ ". It was exhibited in one of the
art galleries of Dublin last year ; and hundreds, at-
tracted by the quaint title, as well as by the laudatory
notices of the picture that had appeared in the press,
visited the gallery, and found, if we may judge by their
expressions and visible emotions, that they were stand-
ing in the presence of a great work, touching and
sublime in conception, and, so far as amateurs could
judge, faultless in the many details that are necessary
to interpret to the public the artist's mind.
The subject of the picture has not been taken from
Scripture narrative. The artist has followed either
some pious tradition, or a fancy suggested by his own
poetic instincts, or one of those terrible Dantesque con-
ceptions, so vivid and painful, that rise before the mind
" when the soul follows a dream in the house of sleep ".
Darkness still hangs in the sky, except where behind
rocks and boulders, and far away and far down across
the valley, the blue-grey dawn is showing against a
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Record, December, 1881.
17 2
18 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
jagged cloud. The morning star is shining, liquid and
lustrous, in the sky ; and dark and brown against the
dawn, the form of Satan looms up in the centre of
the picture. The tejupter, naked but for a loose strip
about the loins, is seated on a rock, one hand convul-
sively grasps his knees, on the other he is resting his
head. The spear leans against his shoulders ; a strange
bluish hght quivers from his hair, and his wings are
half closed. So far, in colour and form, the Satan of
the picture is only partly original. But when we look
on the face we see at once the power of the artist. For
into those features he has knit all those passions of fear
and anger and hate, which Satan's defeat on the previous
night, by one whom he considers a mere man, must
have created. He is looking on the face of the sleeping
Christ. The Saviour is stretched on the rocks at his
feet. His hands are clasped on His breast, and His
face is partly in the light which the dawn is shedding
on the desert. And what a face ! Traditional ? So it
is. The features with which pious pictures have made
every Catholic familiar are there, but the long and
weary vigil of forty days has wasted them, the temples
are sunken, the cheeks hollow and tinged with a pale
hectic flush, and the terrible struggle with the tempter,
through which He has passed, or perhaps the proximity
of Satan at the moment, has left a shadowy expression
of pain on the brow and closed eyes, which is inexpres-
sibly touching. It is a great work — so great that the
artist is forgotten completely. These two figures — the
fallen archangel, still great in his strength but baffled,
glaring on the Man-God unconscious and the conqueror,
but yet troubled — are so terribly realistic and representa-
tive, they must remain a memory for ever. Looking
on the face of the arch-fiend, we could not help conjec-
turing the thoughts that were passing through his
mind. He had remained on that rock through the
night, and as passion after passion rolled in storms
over his soul, one cry echoed ever, ever answered, but
never hushed, "Who is He?" There is a far-off look
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 19
in the fierce, questioning eyes, as if he had seen that
face before, and a patient and hateful expression, as if
he waited only the opening of the Saviour's eyes, to
challenge Him again to conflict. And turning from
that fierce, dark countenance to the worn and gentle
features of Christ, " the eternal strength made perfect
in His weakness," we asked ourselves the tempter's
question: "Who is He?" and that glorious outburst
of eloquence, with which Lacordaire made the hardened
infidels of Paris grow pale, and breathe hard with
emotion, came to the mind : " There is a man, whose
tomb is guarded by love. There is a man, whose
sepulchre is not only glorious, as the prophet declared,
but whose sepulchre is loved. There is a man, whose
ashes after eighteen centuries have not grown cold, who
daily lives again in the thoughts of an innumerable
multitude of men, who is visited in His cradle by shep-
herds and kings, who vie with each other in bringing
to Him gold and frankincense and myrrh. There is a
man, whose steps are unweariedly trodden by a large
portion of mankind, who, although no longer present,
is followed by that throng in the scenes of His bygone
pilgrimage, upon the knees of His mother, by the borders
of the lakes, to the tops of the mountains, in the byways
of the valleys, under the shade of the olive-trees, in the
still solitudes of the deserts. There is a man, who was
scourged, killed, crucified, whom an ineffable passion
raises from death and infamy, and exalts to the glory of
love unfailing, which find in Him peace, joy, honour,
and even ecstasy." And when we looked around, and
saw the representatives of the intellect and wealth of
the metropolis gathered together in this quiet gallery,
and studying silently and reverently the great work and
the great lesson before them, and when we saw the
wonder excited by the bold figure and terrible face of
Satan, give way to looks of reverential pity and awe, as
the hard, worldly, deep-lined faces were bent on the
figure of Christ, we thought that, after all that has been
doubted and denied, the preacher is right, religion is
2 *
20 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
still the absorbing subject for human thought, and
great artists, like Sir Noel Paton, consult wisely for the
interests of art and their own fame, when they refuse
to submit themselves to the deteriorating influences of
their age, and rise above the world of Nature to steal
the fires of artistic inspiration from that world over
which God more immediately presides.
We use the word Nature here of course in a restricted
and limited sense, and as it is used in the remark that
opens this paper. Lord Beaconsfield speaks of Nature
as the negation of everything supernatural, everything
that does not come under the domain of intellect and
sense. And he hopes and believes that the artists of
our age are emancipating themselves from beliefs that
have hitherto been held sacred, and traditions that have
been proudly cherished, from the magic of names that
have been household words in art circles and schools,
and from the inspirations that have been shed on past
generations from the deathless works of the dead, from
the stone that sprang into life, and the canvas that
breathed immortality^ at the touch of vanished hands.
And he thinks that art will have reached its highest
level, when its disciples, freed from the deadlights of
superstition, paint Nature as she shows herself to them,
and the humanities of life as they can interpret them ;
and, adapting their taste to the materialistic tendencies
of the age, exclude everything that will not bear analysis
from the scientist, or attract the sympathy of men,
whose taste may be refined, but whose ideas on Re-
ligion and Nature are very superficial.
It is not much to be wondered at that the ruling
passion of our age^this passion of ^stheticism, the
worship of sensuous beauty, the careful elimination
from all art and science of everything moral, didactic, or
spiritualising — should have found its way into that art,
which more than any other appeals to the senses. The
hard, cold materialism of our day, which treats as
shadowy and unreal whatever does not submit itself
to the arbitrary tests of science and sense, is not con-
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 21
fined to the study of the natural philosopher, or the
laboratory of the chemist. It has filtered down from
these high places into all the strata of society, has
created in poetry what is called by the ill-sounding
name of the " fleshly school," and in the sister-art of
painting has tried to establish the principle that Nature
alone must be studied and reproduced. If fancy must
have its flights, let them be limited to the absurdities
of pagan mythology ; if models or types are needed, let
them be the few relics that Grecian art has left us.
The Victorian age has set itself to rival the ages of
Pericles in Athens, and the Medici in Florence. These
were the two great epochs in human history, when art
is, supposed to have been most carefully cultivated, and
to have been brought to its highest perfection. That
such is not the opinion of the first art critics of our age
we shall immediately show. But such is the tendency
of present ambition. It aims at excelling or equalling
the best works of these periods, whilst adhering so
closely to their traditions and principles, that it does
not even afl^ect invention or originality. It has taken
for its idol the to kuXov, careless whether that beauty
be wedded with baseness, or be the reflex of that
inner sacredness and spiritual beauty, that lies deep in
the heart of all things. The Athenians had their gods
and goddesses, their fauns and satyrs, and nymphs and
dryads, tales of fleshly love and records of shameless
intrigues, histories of triumphs of brute force and of
daring deeds, heroic only in their defiance of all natural
and moral law. From these their poets had to weave
tragedies, and their painters and sculptors had to design
groups ; and, as we may well imagine, in this poetry
and its kindred arts there is much beauty, perfect and
exquisite in every detail, but wanting in that majesty
and sublimity that must be suggested by a higher
faculty than fancy, and that can be thrown into form
only by those who have recognised and cultivated in
themselves what we may call the higher supernatural
sense. It wanted more. It lacked the suggestiveness
22 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
that can be produced only by high moral and intellectual
perceptions, and by the conviction that art has far-
reaching, immortal aims, and that a work of art is
even of less value than a fashion in dress, if it merely
pleases the eye or the fancy for a moment. Nature to
them was dead and uninformed, and as such thej' inter-
preted it. The great Being, whose existence they knew
to be necessary, was "unknown". They substituted
for Him such weak representations as poetic fancy
could suggest. They knew nothing of the economy of
creation. The world was
An altar-step without a priest,
A throne whereon there sate no king ;
and as they could not grasp the mighty mystery, the
interpretation of what they did see was necessarily weak
and defective. " For we do, indeed, see constantly," says
Euskin, " that men having naturally acute perceptions of
the beautiful, yet not receiving it with a pure heart, nor
into their hearts at all, never comprehend it, nor receive
good from it, but make it a mere minister to their de-
sires, an accompaniment and seasoning of lower sensual
pleasures. And this which in Christian times is the
abuse and corruption of the sense of beauty, was, in that
Pagan hfe of which St. Paul speaks, little less than the
essence of it, and the best they had. I do not know
that of the expressions of affection towards external
nature to be found in heathen writers, there are any
of which the leadmg thought leans not towards the
sensual parts of her. Her beneficence they sought, and
her power they shunned ; her teachings through both
they understood never." Yet their representations of
the objective realities of life, though piecemeal, were
perfect. WTaat they wanted was inspiration. But what
shall we say of their modern admirers, who confess their
despair of approaching the perfection of Grecian work-
manship, w^hilst they reject the Christian ideals and
Christian inspirations that would enable modern artists
to rival and even surpass the ancients ?
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 23
This vast distinction between the Pagan and Chris-
tian conceptions of art, and their relative influences
on artists themselves, on contemporary students and
admirers, and on posterity that has inherited the ac-
cumulated treasures of the ages, v^^as most distinctly
shown about that period, when the Medici had made
Florence a modern Athens, and Greece was robbed of
its priceless wealth of statuary and paintings to please
the over-refined tastes of the aesthetic city. The two
great schools of art, of which all the succeeding classic
schools were merely subdivisions, were then brought
face to face, their principles were tested by the works
of their pupils, they were supported by the dominant
influences of the age, they contested the supremacy
with all the calm, earnest, unimpassioned vigour on the
one hand, and all the fierce, intemperate zeal on the
other, that have characterised the eternal war between
the Church and the world. It was another and not
very dissimilar phase of that uprising against faith and
morality of which we are witnesses, the only difference
being, that the struggle which is now waged by the pen
and the press was then carried on by brush and pencil
in the studios and art galleries of the Italian cities. It
was the Eenaissance of Pagan ideas. Pagan worship,
Pagan theories of art. Pagan habits of life, of which,
after all, art and literature are but faithful reflections.
On the side of this new Paganism were arrayed artists
and men of letters — the restless, unquiet, but gifted
spirits that haunt a city of revolutions like Florence ;
wealthy and powerful merchants, like the Medici them-
selves, proud and retiring aristocrats, like the blind
father of Bomola. On the other side, which clung with
the tenacity of love and principle to Christian tradition,
was the Church, then as now combining a magnificent
contempt for the transitory passions of the age with
maternal anxiety for truths that might be neglected, and
souls that might be imperilled ; and, under the shadow
of the Church, protected, encouraged, and inspired, were
her faithful servants, working out on canvas or on the
24 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
bare wall the thoughts that were ennobling their minds,
and the feelings that were sanctifying their souls. The
Renaissance ushered in the Reformation. It was the
preliminary and partial revolt that preceded the great
rebellion against the majestic dogmas, and the stern dis-
cipline of Christianity. The world was growing tired
of the supernatural, and was yearning after the human-
ities of ancient times, and the soft heathen freedom and
voluptuousness to which Rousseau says mankind is per-
petually tending. And the first symptoms were exhib-
ited in the new departure in art from all that twelve
centuries of Christian civilisation had prized, and the
new passion for reproducing and embeUishing that
ancient civilisation, which had been branded as " an-
athema " by the prophets and priests of the Catholic
Church. It is true that, before that time, there had
been a few attempts to break away from Christian
traditions, and establish new schools that might eman-
cipate themselves from the prevailing ideas, and fly to
the buried past for inspiration. But the faith of the
ages would not brook this disinterring of Paganism,
nor tolerate representations of the "grand old gods of
Greece and Rome," when the pm-e and sublime art of
the catacombs was still modern, and painting was yet
what St. Basil called it, and the Council of Arras defined
it in 1205, " The book of the ignorant who do not know
how to read any other ".
And when the primitive art school of Florence was
established, of which Giotto was the founder, it seemed as
if Christian art was so thoroughly regenerated, that no
succeeding attempts could revolutionise it, nor introduce
again a passion for Pagan or Byzantine types. Work
after work came from the pencils of holy men who were
inspired, not by anticipation of public applause in
national galleries, nor by the hope of amassing money
by painting to please the passions of an hour, but by a
pious desire of lending their talents to God's service,
and raising men's minds far above mundane things to
the celestial heights where themselves in spirit were
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 25
dwelling. And, therefore, the Christian Gospels, and
not Pagan mythology, were the sources whence they
drew subjects for portraits and for larger works. It is
marvellous to see how faithful they were to these lofty
ideas. Still more marvellous that, though circumscribed
within comparatively narrow limits, they were able to
infuse variety into their works, and stamp on every pro-
duct of their pencils the individuality of their own
minds. There is scarcely a name, for example, worthy
of respect in the Catholic schools of Italy, that cannot be
found subscribed to some painting of our Blessed Lady.
In the Siennese school, there are Madonnas by Guido,
Lorenzetti, Bartoli, Matteo da Siena, Pacchiarotto,
Beccafumi, Eazzi. In the Florentine school, we have
Madonnas from Giotto, Buffalmaco, the Gaddi, Giottino,
Orgagna, Fra Angehco, Gozzoli, Botticelli, Ghirlandaio,
Lorenzo di Credi, Lippi, Fra Bartolommeo, Albertinelli.
In the Umbrian school, by Perugino, Pinturicchio,
Eafaello. In the Bolognese school, by Dalmasio,
Francia, who seemed to be able to paint nothing else,
for every city in Italy has a Madonna from his pencil ;
in the museum at Berlin there are several from his
hands, and at Munich and at Vienna. In the schools at
Ferrara, the same subject is treated by Panetti, Costa,
Grandi, Mazzohno, Garofalo. In the Venetian school,
by the Vivarini, Gentile and Giovanni Bellini, Carpac-
cio, Vecelli. And so strongly were these artists imbued
with Christian feeling, that a sodality was established,
the members of which bound themselves to paint no
other subjects but holy men and women on the walls
and altars of churches, that by this means the world, in
spite of the demons, might be attracted towards virtue
and piety. This is the first academy of painting of
which history makes mention : the Confraternity of St.
Luke, founded in 1350. A century later, so rapid are
the revolutions for good or evil, the Medici had per-
verted public taste, and mythological subjects came into
request. Little by little, painting became the servant
of vanity and vice, the pedantry that pervaded the
26 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
schools invaded the studios, and art had fallen very low,
when the portraits of patrons were no longer seen at
the foot of the pious picture in an attitude of humble
supplication, but introduced into the picture itself, and
attached with unblushing effi'ontery to the most holy
and sacred personages. In former days, the faces of art
patrons were seen amongst humble shepherds or en-
thusiastic disciples ; now they were to be seen amongst
angelic choirs, or representing the holiest that ever trod
the earth, and then alternating as an Olympian god or
hero. Ancient sources of inspiration were abandoned.
The histories of Greece and Eome superseded sacred
history. "Pagan inspirations," says M. Eio, "were
received at the time from two sources — the majestic
ruins of ancient Rome, and the court of the Medici.
The Paganism of the Medici sprang from the corruption
of morals, as well as from the progress of learning.
What did Lorenzo de Medici demand from the artists
of Florence, when he wished to exercise towards them
that distinguished patronage of which we hear so much
in history ? From Pollajuolo he demanded the Twelve
Labours of Hercules ; from Ghirlandajo the edifying
story of Vulcan's misfortunes ; from Luca Signorelli
nude gods and goddesses ; and, as atonement, a chaste
Minerva from Botticelli, who, despite the natural purity
of his imagination, was also obliged to paint a Venus for
Cosmo de Medici, and to repeat the same subject several
times with all the changes suggested by his learned
protector." This materialism, thus introduced under
powerful patronage, and adopted by men of light and
leading, has to this day dominated the art of painting.
It would reach its final stage of development if the
hopes of Lord Beaconsfield could be realised. But as
Christian art not only survived Medicean influence, but
reached its perfection stimulated by the hostility raised
against it, so we may hope that, in our own age, the in-
telligent and natural sympathy of artists for purity and
subhmity will keep them faithful to the highest tradi-
tions of their art, and help them to sustain Christian
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 27
ideas, and follow Christian types, undeterred by false
criticism or vitiated public taste.
Driven by princes and presidents from museums,
academies and private collections, mysticism in art
found an asylum in convents and monasteries, w^here
the art of painting in miniature was brought to per-
fection. The Dominicans and Camaldulenses cultivated
the art with the greatest success. The magnificent
productions of these monks, and the solitaries of Monte
Cassino, can still be seen at Sienna, Ferrara, and the
Vatican. They were the immediate precursors of that
great saint and painter, still known in Florence as II
Beato, the Blessed John of Fiesole, better recognised
by the title Fra AngeHco. It was he who never took
pencil in hand without previous prayer ; it was he who
never painted a Crucifixion without shedding bitter
tears at the memory of his Saviour's sufferings. A
bare catalogue of his principal works will show the
source of all his inspirations. In Paris, at the Louvre,
the Life of St. Dominic. In Orvieto, at the Cathedral,
Our Lord at the Last Judgment, and the Choir of
Prophets. In Kome, at the Vatican, in the Chapel of
Nicholas V., The History of SS. Stephen and Laur-
ence ; in the Corsini Gallery, The Ascension and The
Descent of the Holy Ghost ; in the Fesch Gallery,
The Last Judgment. At Fiesole, in the Church of St.
Dominic, a Madonna with several saints ; at the Church
of St. Jerome, a Madonna between St. Jerome and St.
Stephen. At Cortona, in the Gesu, the Annunciation,
the hfe of Our Blessed Lady, the life of St. Dominic. At
Florence, in the cloister of St. Mark, a Crucifixion with
St. Dominic ; in the Chapter Hall, a Crucifixion with
many saints, and a genealogical tree of the Domini-
cans ; in each cell, a fresco of the Crucifixion ; in the
Ulfizi Gallery, St. Peter, St. Mark, a Madonna with
many saints, the Martyrdom of St. Peter, the Nativity of
St. John, the Preaching of St. Peter, the Espousals, the
Adoration of the Magi, the Death of the Blessed Virgin,
the Coronation of the Blessed Virgm in the midst of
28 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
celestial choirs ; at the Academy of the Fine Arts, the
Descent from the Cross, St. Thomas and Albertus, the
Life of Our Lord in thirty tableaux, the Last Judg-
mient, the chef d'osuvre of Christian art. In Berlin, at
the EiOyal Museum, St. Francis and St. Dominic em-
bracing. Yet such is the degeneracy of modern art,
that Fra Angelico is numbered by modern connoisseurs
amongst the painters of what they are pleased to call
i temjn bassi. And yet we are told by the best critics
of our time, that "modern Itahans have degenerated
into sign-board painters," that now "they can only
reproduce," that as "originators they are beneath con-
tempt ". Fra Angelico was immediately succeeded by
Perugino, Pinturicchio and Rafaello, " a glorious trinity
of artists," says Montalembert, "that never has been,
and never shall be, surpassed". They belonged to the
Umbrian school, which shares, with the Siennese school
and the mystic school of Florence, the glory of having
been entirely Catholic and Christian, as regards the
choice of subjects and the mode of treatinent. " Per-
haps," says M. Rio, "the Umbrian school was not
so rich in its variety of subjects as contemporary schools ;
it did not follow profane mythology, or the study of
ancient bas-reliefs, or even the grand historic scenes of
sacred history ; it limited itself to the development
and perfection of certain types, very restricted in
number, but which reunited all that faith could inspire
of poetry and exaltation. The glory of the Umbrian
school is to have followed without ceasing the trans-
cendental aims of Christian art, without suffering itself
to be seduced by example or distracted by clamours.
It would seem that a special benediction attached to
these places particularly sanctified by St. Francis Assisi,
and that the perfumes of his sanctity preserved the
Fine Arts from corruption in the vicinity of the
mountains, where so many pious painters had contri-
buted one after the other to decorate his tomb. This
happy influence exercised on painting became part of a
mission of purification, and we see that Perugino, who
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 29
was the great light of the Umbrian school, extended
this influence from one end of Italy to the other." ^
Just at the same time, a mighty and temporarily
successful struggle was made against the invasion of
Paganism into Art and Society. It was the crusade
preached by the great friar of St. Marco, in Florence,
against the Renaissance. Its history has been lately
made so familiar to the world, that it is needless to
enter into it here. It is enough to say that, as at the
passing of Paul and Timothy of old, the idols crumbled
into dust, so at the voice of the Christian preacher the
relics, collected at such mighty cost, of the " grandeur
that was Greece and the glory that was Rome" were
huddled together in the square of the city of Florence,
and the craze of the moment vanished from the minds
of men, as the smoke of the holocaust of heathen vanities
thinned and whitened into fleecy vapour in the blue Itahan
sky. Despite the all-powerful influence which Savonarola
exercised on the savants, the artists, and the warriors of
his age, Pico de la Mirandola, Salviati, Valori, Lorenzo
di Credi, Fra Bartolommeo, Luca della Robbia, Cron-
aca, etc., the mighty apostle perished. But ten years
after his death justice was done him by the Roman
court, for Raphael represented him amongst the Doctors
of the Church in the fresco of the Blessed Sacrament,
and with the authority of Juhus II., the immediate
successor of the Alexander VI. who had condemned
him.
From that time naturalism became the fashion in art.
We read of Signorelli, who pushed his love of anatomy
so far, that he studied the dead body of his own son,
anticipating the scientists of whom Wordsworth says,
"they would peep and botanise on their mothers'
graves " ; of Mariotto, who died of a debauch in the
flower of his age ; of Andrea del Sarto, who for money
' For the quotations from M. Rio's .standard work, the lists of
paintings, etc., I am indebted to Montalemhert's essay, " De la
peinture chr^tienne en Italie ". — P. A. S.
30 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
painted the obese wife of Francis I. as a Madonna ; of
Piero di Cosimo, whose special horror was the sound of
church bells, and the chanting of monks. Even such
original and mighty geniuses as Kaphael and Michael
Angelo became subject to the passion of the age. Though
essentially Catholic, and deriving all their transcendent
glory from the works which they executed under in-
spirations from faith, they, too, temporarily forgot their
allegiance to the highest teachings of their art, and
sacrificed the majesty and beauty of spiritualism in a
passion for perfect anatomy or sldlful colouring. The
perfection of tinting and shading, the scientific and
symmetrical reproduction of muscles in action or re-
pose, became of far greater importance than the lofty
philosophy of Christianity, and its power over humanity,
flashed forth upon learned and unlearned, from the faces
of " sweet Mother Mary " or a Magdalen, or that
warrior-saint, Sebastian, or the midnight horrors of
a Crucifixion, or the terrors and splendours of a Last
Judgment. And they suffered in consequence. Their
right hands lost their cimning, because their minds had
forsaken their inspirations. It is well known that
Kaphael, for the last ten years of his life, was not
equal to the Eaphael who emulated Perugino in his
love of Christian art. It is said that monsters issued
from the marriage of the sons of God with the daughters
of men ; and such must ever be Christian ideas, wrought
out in obedience to Pagan theories.
However sad this defection might be, and it is saddest
in the case of Michael Angelo, who was essentially a poet-
painter, and a poet before he became a painter, and was
therefore more independent of fashions than any of his
contemporaries, these artists are still claimed as masters
of Catholic schools, and their fame rests on the sacred
pictures they executed, rather than upon their imitations
of Grecian art. Now all these painters and all these
schools are still regarded with as much reverence by
art students, as the Fathers or Scholastics by theological
students, or as German philosophers by the lovers of
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 31
the mystic and the undefined. No art education is con-
sidered complete, that has not been finished under the
shadows of the Old Masters. And though a hope is now
entertained of transferring the sanctuary from the Tiber
to the Thames, Italy must remain for ever the home of
painting. Who could study, for example, the nuances of
colour under the aer hruno of the murky metropolis of
England ? No ! modern eclecticism, fickle and erratic,
will soon wear itself out. Students of far future genera-
tions will sit in the dim twilight of cathedrals, and lay
the foundations of their fame, in the lessons that are
inculcated by the silent and eloquent teachers, that tell
the glories of an age, the like of which we shall not soon
see. And then, as now, it is Madonnas and pale saints,
and stately prophets and grave doctors, "with a far-off
look in their eternal eyes," that will rain down inspira-
tion into these students' souls, and with such dreams
will these latter be afterwards haunted, when they touch,
with brush or pencil, the canvas that is to speak back
to them the cherished fancy, or reafise the long-
worshipped ideal.
If, therefore, Keligion from the beginning had been
rejected as an element in Art, Art would have had no
history, no " names that will hang on the stretched fore-
finger of all time ". Eeligion supplied the loftiest in-
spirations ; Keligion elevated and exalted the tastes
and ambition of artists ; Religion repelled whatever was
base and sensual ; and Rehgious Art, therefore, is im-
mortal.
So far then for History, the testimony of the ages.
Now, on purely abstract grounds, let us consider the
motives which Religion supplies, and the subjects it pre-
sents to the artist's mind, and we shall see that, apart
from the influence of traditions, Rehgion must always
remain the most potent factor in Art. There was a time
when men regarded labour as prayer : with them Art
was worship. The present is a time when Art has be-
come a trade, and labour means coining mind-thoughts
and the heart's blood for gold. Worship nineteenth-
32 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
century progress as we may, can it be doubted for a
moment that the inspirations of faith are higher than
the promptings of avarice ? That the men who stood
day by day face to face with eternity, who dealt famil-
iarly, but not without awe, with great solemn mysteries
that were terrible realities to them, have not higher
ideas and inspirations than Medicean or Victorian artists,
whose fancies are busy with cheque-books and art criti-
cisms, while their hands are mixing the colours or laying
them ? What a comment on our age is the simple and
touching inscription under a beautiful Madonna, in the
Hospice della Scala at Sienna : " Ojms Laurentii Petri
pictoris : fecit oh suam devotionem " ; or the painting of the
" Procession of the True Cross " in the Place St. Mark,
signed by the artist, " Gentilis Bellinus amore incensus
crucis, 1496 ". Where shall we find a parallel in our
age to Vitalis, who could never paint a Crucifixion,
saying it was too sorrowful a task for him ; or Jacopo
Avanzi, who for years was prevented by the same
scruple ; or Lippo Dalmasio, who cared only to paint
images of the Blessed Virgin ; and in whose eyes this
work was so great, that he never undertook it without
preparing himself by a fast on the vigil of his work, and
receiving Holy Communion on the day on which he
commenced his sacred labours ? " Dreadfully super-
stitious ! " no doubt our modern artist will exclaim ;
yet Guido in the fuller light of the seventeenth century
stood for hours, ravished with delight, before one of this
painter's Madonnas. Mr. Euskin, whom all agree in
considering the first art critic of his age, has a remark-
able passage on the subject : —
" And, in the last place, it will be found that so surely
as a painter is irreligious, thoughtless, or obscene in dis-
position, so surely is his colouring cold, gloomy and
valueless. The opposite poles of art in this respect are
Fra Angelico and Salvator Eosa, of whom one was a
man who smiled seldom, wept often, prayed constantly,
and never harboured an impure thought. His pictures
are simply so many pieces of jewellery, the colours of
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 33
the draperies being perfectly pure, as various as those of
a painted window, chastened only by paleness, and re-
lieved upon a gold ground. Salvator was a dissipated
jester and satirist, a man who spent his hfe in masquing
and revelry. But his pictures are full of horror, and
their colour is for the most part gloomy grey. Truly
it would seem as if art had so much of eternity in it
that it must take its dye from the close rather than the
course of life. ' In such laughter the heart of man is
sorrowful, and the end of that mirth is heaviness.'
These are no singular instances. I know no law more
severely without exception than this of the connection
of pnve colour with profound and noble thought. The
Bellinis, Francias, Peruginos painted in crimson and
blue and gold. The Caraccis, Guidos, and Eembrandts
in brown and grey. The builders of our great cathedrals
veiled their casements, and wrapped their pillars with
one robe of purple splendour. The builders of the
luxurious Kenaissance left their palaces filled only with
cold white light, and in the paleness of their native
tone."
Lastly, it were easy to show that even for technical
reasons Religion is not only a legitimate subject of Art,
but the worthiest and most fertile subject, inasmuch as
it is Catholic in its sympathies, reaches from the foot-
stool of God on earth to the throne of God in heaven,
enters deeply into all human concerns, and presents a
hundred conceptions that must be of lasting interest to
men's minds. Such is the opinion of all those who
have given serious and earnest attention to this en-
grossing subject. Let us hear the voices of two who
may be considered the leading experts on Art and
Psychology ; —
"Painting," says Mr. Ruskin, "or Art generally as
such, with all its technicalities, difficulties, and peculiar
ends, is nothing but a noble and expressive language,
invaluable as the vehicle of thought, but of itself nothing.
It is not by the mode of representing and saying, but
by what is represented and said, that the respective
3
34 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
greatness of the painter or writer is to be finally de-
termined." ^
Now by this rule let us try to understand the words
of Victor Cousin : —
"Art is the reproduction of the beautiful, and not of
natural beauty, but of ideal beauty such as the human
imagination conceives it by the help of the data which
Nature furnishes. The ideal beautiful envelops the in-
finite. The object of art, therefore, is to produce works
which, like those of Nature, but in a still higher degree,
have the charm of the infinite. But how and by what
conjuring to draw the infinite from the finite ? Here
lies the difficulty of art ; but it is also its glory. What
carries us up towards the infinite in natural beauty ?
The ideal side of that beauty. The ideal is the mysterious
ladder by which the soul ascends from the finite to the
infinite."
Now, in another part of the same lecture, he says in
language that were worthy of St. Augustine : —
" The ideal resides neither in the individual, nor in a
collection of individuals. Nature or experience furnishes
us the occasion of conceiving it, but it is essentially dis-
tinct from it. For him who has once conceived it, all
natural figures, however beautiful they may be, are but
shadowy images of a beauty they do not realise. The
^ In the Magazine of Art for December, 1880, the sarcastic re-
mark of Lord Beacousfield is indignautly criticised in the following
passage : ' ' When at the Academy banquet of 1879 Lord Beacons-
field half slightingly X'eferred to pictures of ' saints and Madonnas
and martyrs,' there was a symjjathetic laugh. Who laughed?
Some of the ' distinguished strangers,' let us hope, and not any of
the brotherhood who own a kindred art with M. Angelo, Raphael,
Titian and Murillo, and least of all, we may be certain, he who was
exhibiting there at the very time not a ' saint or a Madonna or a
martyr,' but personages who may be supposed to be equally comic
— an angel and a prophet ! The public will rather agree with
another speaker at another Academy banquet — the Ai'chbishop of
Canterbm'y in 1880 — who said : ' The noblest pictui-es are, as a
rule, the embodiment of the highest and noblest ideas, and I hold
that saints and angels are nobler subjects than Bacchus with the
satyrs and fauns '."
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 35
ideal retreats perpetually in proportion as we approach
it more nearly.
" Its last term is in the infinite, that is, in God ; or, to
speak better, the true and absolute ideal is nothing but
God Himself."
And after a series of passages rising one above the other
in beauty of thought and diction, he concludes by saying :
" Thus God is the principle of the three orders of beauty
we have distinguished, physical beauty, intellectual
beauty, and moral beauty ".
Now, if art be but the expression of thought, if thought
must be exercised about what is beautiful, so that art
may reproduce only what is beautiful, if that beauty be
not natural beauty alone, but ideal beauty, and if the
term and source of all beauty is God Himself, who can
eliminate as objects of art that world over which God
more immediately presides, of which He is the centre
and the life, the world of rehgion and mysticism '?
Would we then exclude Nature in its lower forms
from the domain of art, paint only purely religious sub-
jects, be blind to the beautiful world that lies around us,
with its rich landscapes and seascapes, the soft tender
dawns, the transparent light of noon, the purple twi-
lights, the blush of a rose petal, the pure whiteness of
a lily, the clustering vegetation of forests, the still and
solitary grandeur of mountains ? Still more, shall we
exclude humanity, with its passionate tenderness and
sublime dissatisfaction, its yearnings after the infinite,
the pulsations of human activity, the flutterings of the
human heart? So thought Goethe, the Archpriest of
humanity in our age, the leader and interpreter of our
modern classical contempt for Christianity. Speaking
of the subjects treated by the Old Masters, he says :
" They are either miscreants or ecstatics, criminals or
fools. There is not a human idea throughout the whole."
Not the human ideas, certainly, of suicidal Werthers, or
a Faust driven by passion into fearful excesses, or a sad
Gretchen, dying a lunatic in a prison. But divinely
human ideas of saints who have stilled the wild yearn-
3 *
36 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ings of their hearts by penance and prayer, and learned
doctors who have bound themselves with cinctures of
chastity, and Magdalens who have found peace after sin
in repentance. Christian art is not above humanity. It
stoops to it, raises it, ennobles it, consecrates it. Christ-
ian art is not above Nature. But it sees in Nature the
hand of the Divine Artist, whose works speak His praises
so eloquently.
It sees the smile of God in the sunshine, the anger of
God in the storm, the tenderness of God in the flower
and the child, the love of God in the stricken soul, the
peace of God on the faces of the dead. It will not rest
content with mere material beauty. Everything in its
eyes has a subjective beauty. Substances that impress
the senses are nothing compared to the Divine thought
that flashes for ever athwart them, glorifying and trans-
figuring them. "It is the realisation of this subjective
beauty," says a late writer in the Magazine of Art, " that
has made great landscapists. See how Turner and Cox
invariably sacrificed the lesser to the greater. The work
of one was a mighty protest against the materialism of
topographical draughtsmanship — it was not Ehrenbreit-
stein he saw, but the flash of sunlight that fell upon it
fresh from the hand of God. The work of the other
was a mighty protest against the traditional notion that
fine scenery makes fine pictures. Lancaster sands were
good enough for him if God passed over them in a
storm." This is the subjective beauty which the saints
have always seen in Nature ; it was this which was present
to the mind of St. Bernard when he declared — " I medi-
tated upon the Word of God ; the fields and the forests
taught me its sacred meaning ; the oaks and the beeches
were my masters ". And to St. Augustine when he de-
clared that " all beauties which pass from the soul to the
skilful hands of artists are derived from that beauty
which is above the soul, after which my soul sighs day
and night ". But the artists and admirers of these ex-
terior beauties, while they take from that first beauty the
rule of approving them, do not take from thence the rule
IN A DUBLIN ART GALLERY 37
of using them. It is in its lowest form the vision of
the singer who beholds —
A light that never was on sea or flood :
The consecration, and the poet's di'eam.
And in its highest form it is represented by the beauty
of "Sovran Blanc," the "thunderous avalanche," the
" motionless torrents," the " silent cataracts," the " living
flowers that skirt the eternal frost," when Coleridge
looked upon them, and heard syllabled in every tone
that Nature could assume, the name of God.
With such thoughts in our minds, looking again on
the picture before us, do we not discern a relative beauty
in all the accidents of Nature ? Is not the glimmering
dawn more tender because it floats its veil of light over
the sleeping Saviour? Is there not a soul, an intelli-
gence, in the lone star, that seems to be resigning into
the hands of coming day the watch it has kept over its
Master ? The rugged boulders even seem to have feel-
ing in them, as they support the head of the sleeping
Christ. All things are transmuted by the subtle spirit
which the artist has thrown from his soul into his work.
We, too, are no longer spectators, but worshippers ;
the usual interjections of wonder and criticism are
silenced ; we hear only the soft sounds of pencils that
are stealing ideas from the masterpiece, and the soft
breathing of reverential men and women who seem
never tired of looking and admiring. The gallery, for
the moment, is changed into a sanctuary, and the
picture has become a shrine.
I cannot forbear closing this paper with a few lines
taken from Scribner's Magazine. They express in the
narrow space of six stanzas all that we have been
labouring to say : —
TRANSFIGURED.
By S. M. B. Piatt.
Almost afraid they led her in
(A dwarf more piteous none could find) ;
Withered as some weird leaf, and thin,
The woman was — and old and blind.
38 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Into his mirror with a smile —
Not vain to be so fair, but glad —
The South-born painter looked the while,
With eyes than Christ's alone less sad.
" Mother of God," in pale surprise
He whispered, " what am I to paint ? "
A voice that sounded from the skies
Said to him : " Raphael, a saint ".
She sat before him in the sun ;
He scarce could look at her, and she
Was still and silent. "It is done,"
He said. " Oh, call the world to see ! "
Ah, that was she in veriest truth —
Ti-anscendent face and haloed hau* ;
The beauty of divinest youth.
Divinely beautiful, was there.
Herself into her picture passed.
Herself and not her poor disguise,
Made up of time and dust. At last
One saw her with the Master's eyes.
EMEESON: FEEE-THOUGHT IN AMEEICA.^
America has become, during the last quarter of a
century, the object on which the eyes of the intel-
lectual world have been fixed, with all the interest that
attaches to a novel and critical experiment. Up to that
period she had virtually taken not only her religious
systems, but all her ideas on philosophical science, from
the Old World. She had mutely acknowledged her
indebtedness to the great intellects whom the combined
thought of Europe had canonised as men of " light and
leadmg," in their respective departments. Her univer-
sities were fashioned after Oxford and Gottingen, and
their students sat at the feet of Old AVorld professors,
and accepted their teachings with the deference that is
due to learning and the sanctities of tradition. Mean-
while, in the mechanical arts, America had asserted her
independence. She took the moulds of European in-
ventions, improved upon them, broke them, and cast
them aside as worthless and antiquated. And whilst
her schools and colleges were accepting European ideas
and traditions, there was scarcely a mill in America that
had not reached a full half-century of progress beyond
the best-appointed and best-conducted factory in Leeds
or Sheffield.
Such a state of things could not last. A nation of
fifty million inhabitants, with infinite possibilities before
it, and with all its intehigence quickened into activity
by the interfusion of races, with their specific principles
and traditions, could not remain in leading strings to
any other people, nor maintain a rigid and senseless
^ Iriah Ecclesiastical Record, October, 1884.
39
40 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
conservatism in those very things in which the human
mind demands absohite and unconditional freedom.
Hence, during these latter years, the mind of America
has ascended from mechanical to philosophical experi-
ment, and, with the facility begotten of wealth and in-
dependence, has explored every system of thought, and
revelled in the creation of new and fanciful theories in
the world of mysticism.
What then is to be the leading system of thought in
the great Western Repubhc ? How will its progressive
ideas develop themselves ? It starts on its career free
and untrammelled by prejudice or superstitions. It
enjoys the most perfect freedom, not only in its political
life, but even in that social life which amongst ourselves
has laws more despotic, and decisions more magisterial,
than state constitutions. Nature has thrown open her
treasury, and already dowered its children with super-
abundant wealth and promises of inexhaustible supplies.
America inherits free all the blessings of the civilisation
which nineteen centuries with an infinite expenditure
of thought and labour have accumulated ; and she com-
mences her career without a single care for all those
sad and terrible possibilities which hamper progress in
the Old World. What is to be the issue of the new civil-
isation ? Will it become licentious in its freedom, and
reap in the near future the sad consequences of the
violation of that political and intellectual discipline
which, like the laws of Nature, avenges itself upon its
transgressors ? Will it run riot in speculation and con-
jecture about the mighty mysteries of mortality, and
end, like the Old World, in dreary scepticism ? Or will
it accept theology as an exact science, with its truths
revealed and absolute, and preserved inviolate in its
temple, the living Church? Will its strong democratic
spirit eventuate in that freedom which " slowly broadens
down from precedent to precedent," or will it issue in
a revolution which will dwarf the revolutions of the Old
World by its colossal wickedness ? Will its aristocracy
of wealth and intellect draw away more and more from
EMERSON : FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 41
the masses, and ignoring all Christian obligations seek
to establish feudalism and an ohgarchy, until the inev-
itable disruption that will fling them and the people in
common ruin ? Or will they admit a common brother-
hood, and coming down to the level of poverty and
ignorance, throw the glamour of intellect and wealth
over the forced asceticism of the people ? To reduce
the question to its broadest terms, will the future re-
ligion of America be the cultus of " sense and science,"
the Neo-Paganism, in which the God of Sinai, with His
commandments, " Thou shalt," " Thou shalt not," and
the meek Saviour, with His beatitudes, shall find no
place ? or will the pure Christianity of Catholicism, the
conserving element in European society, be the active
and vigorous agent of the new civilisation of America ?
The question is interesting, doubly interesting to us,
for assuredly the most powerful auxiliaries on the side
of Christianity in the New World are the exiled children
of our race.
There are two things indicative of the mental and
moral genius of a people : its habits of thought and its
habits of life. These two agents act and react on each
other ; licentiousness of thought producing laxity in
moral principles, and easy virtue begetting the utmost
liberahty in matters of belief. We will glance at both,
and see if, to borrow an expression from Matthew Arnold,
" the stream of tendencies " in modern America makes
for righteousness or not. We shall put aside for a
moment the Catholic Church in America, and consider
the systems of religious thought that lie outside it.
The whole history, then, of Protestantism in the States
at the present time, may be described as the history of a
desperate and critical struggle with that Agnosticism
which has followed, not very logically indeed, from the
theories of the evolutionists. Owing to the absence of
copyright, and the consequent enterprise of publishers,
all the Agnostic literature of the Old World has become
the property not only of the thinking, but even of the
reading, public of America. When we are told that the
42 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
poetry of Matthew Arnold adorns the tea-papers of the
New World, that the publishers have issued a popular
edition of his works, that the treatises of the International
Science Series have been cheapened and simplified, that
sociology and kindred subjects are matter for study and
debate in the homeliest literary societies, and that a vulgar
lecturer, like Ingersoll, can always command an audience
of three or four thousand persons in every city of the
States, we must be prepared to admit that materialism
is a growing creed in America, and that it will need the
strongest efforts of Christian faith and Christian scholar-
ship to resist it. The causes that have led up to such a
disposition in the public mind are manifold. In tracing
and classifying them we shall best understand how deeply
laid are anti-Christian ideas, upon what forms of in-
vestigation or imagination they are founded, what influ-
ence external causes have exercised upon them. From
the depth and strength of the foundations alone can we
conjecture to what stature the temple of Unbelief and
Unreason shall rise. The future shall be measured by
the present and the past.
The sources then of Free-thought in America may be
stated thus.
They are historical changes, speculations in philosophy,
the absence of definite dogmas in all the Protestant com-
munions, wealth boundless and luxury unrestricted, weak-
ness from within, and aggression from without. We will
limit this paper to a consideration of the first two of
these causes which are also the most important.
The dark, intolerant spirit brought over by the Puri-
tans in the Mayfloiver, and which is best known to us
through the sombre pages of Hawthorne, might be said
to have been broken by the great War of Independence.
The principles involved in the famous Declaration, and
which were simply the expression of the collective feel-
ings of the people, were found to be inimical not only
to foreign domination, but also to the class and creed
ascendancy which had hitherto obtained in the New
England States. The right of every man to worship his
EMERSON : FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 43
Creator as he willed was made the cardinal doctrine of
the New Eepublic, and it broke for ever the power of
the fierce bigots who rigidly upheld their ancestral beliefs
against Catholic and Quaker by appeals to the branding
iron and the pillory. A reaction was inevitable. Intoxi-
cated with freedom, the people rushed from the gloomy
doctrines and unbending discipline of Puritanism into
extreme licence of thought, as the Jews of old, freed from
the terrors of invasion and death, revelled in sensuality
and idolatry. And events on the European Continent
were giving to the mind of America a bias in the same
direction. The American Kevolution was immediately
succeeded by that in France. An invisible bond of sym-
pathy existed between them ; and although in their
motives, their objects, and especially in their results, they
were essentially different, they agreed at least in their
hatred of tyranny, their demand for freedom, their in-
sistence on social equality, their impatience of any thing
or person who would attempt to limit human freedom,
or coerce human thought. And the ideas that led up to
the French Eevolution, the Deism of Voltaire and the
Encyclopgedists, were wafted to the New World, and be-
came the foundation of that Unitarianism, which for so
many years was the prevalent behef in America, which
counted amongst its professors the most eminent men
in science, art and literature, which founded one of the
great American universities, and which prepared the
American mind to receive with facility all those conjec-
tural theories of existence on which the modern philo-
sophies are founded. For Deism marks the extreme limit
of religious belief. It has its place in the outer spaces
of the realms of faith. It stands on the horizon-line of
the creeds. Beyond it are the regions of speculation and
conjecture. It needs but a single step to fall from it into
the abysses of unbelief. And one did fall ; fell too like
an archangel, drawing hosts of gifted minds with him.
The history of his intellectual life will contain a summary
of the second cause of the growth of unbelief which we
have cited under the name of philosophical speculations.
44 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Beyond comparison the first name in the annals of
Unitarianism, as well as the first in American literature,
is that of Ralph Waldo Emerson ; and we introduce his
name here, for we believe that his life of lofty spiritual,
if not Christian thought, and his character of quaint
and earnest simplicity, have had a charm for the young
intellects of America, the potency of which can only be
measured when its effects are clearly understood. He
might have removed for ever his own strong indictment
against his nation that it had no distinct national litera-
ture, had he not selected as the basis of his philosophy
that German ideahsm which originated with Kant, was
developed by Hegel, and still holds pre-eminence
amongst all other systems in the German schools. His
tour in Europe in 1838, and his visit to Carlyle at Eccle-
fechan, became turning-points in his professional and
literary career. He was seized with the ambition of
effecting for America what Carlyle had effected for Eng-
land — to create in all minds the belief that what the world
was seeking for centuries was to be found in Germany —
a perfect system of philosophy which would satisfy every
demand of the human intellect, and every craving of the
human heart. He became the interpreter of German
transcendentalism to the mind of America. And no pro-
fessor by the Elbe or Rhine ever disclosed to receptive
minds the mysteries of the new philosophy with such
passionate earnestness, or preached the naturalism that
underlies it, with such faultless eloquence. Rhetoric, in
fact, is not only the handmaiden, but the mistress of this
vague philosophy. To hide an obscure thought in a
cloud of words, or to present a famihar idea in strange
and beautiful language — this appears to be the main
end of German philosophy. "Know you not," says St.
Paul, " that 3^our bodies are the temples of the Holy
Ghost ? " " You touch heaven," says NovaHs, " when
you lay your hands on a human body." Here is the
same truth arrived at by different ways and clothed in
different language. And scattered here and there
through the writings of ideahsts we find some such
EMERSON : FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 45
precious thought in the very richest of caskets ; yet we
may pass over v^hole pages of heavy reading without
finding a single idea worth preserving, or a single prin-
ciple that could sustain human hope, or brighten the
sombre mystery of life. It is a philosophy of phrases :
and we know how in our hurried lives men sometimes
found their religion on an epigram. It is said that the
first requisite for a successful politician is to be able to
invent nicknames for an adversary ; and before now a
neatly turned expression has overthrown Governments
in France. Epeolatry is the fashion of the day. The
wisdom of the world is apparently exhausted ; and all
that can be done with its worn-out material is to break
it up, and remould it in new casts of thought.
Yet the play of splendid intellects around mighty
problems of nature and mind has in it something highly
fascinating to the young and the undisciplined. To
leave behind, for a moment, the solid ground of Chris-
tian philosophy, founded on Divine revelation, and to
ascend into cloudland with the gods ; to see mighty
mysteries of life and death, time and space, God and the
universe, duty and immortality, treated as freely as the
astronomer swings his globe, or the navigator his sex-
tant : all this is very daring and attractive to the young.
And when the brilliant speculations of these leaders are
floated through the world, and through the ears of men,
in liquid poetry, and prose that is as firm and measured
as the tramp of a conquering army, it is not easy to
resist the temptation of worshipping their brilliant but
erratic intellects. We know how Carlyle was sage and
prophet to half the young intellects of England in his
time ; how he drew all London to his lectures on
"Heroes," and how silently and respectfully they
listened to this uncouth Scotchman telhng them, in his
broadest Doric, that there was only one thing worth
worship in the universe, that is, strength and success ;
how he held spellbound the students of Edinburgh
University in his famous address as rector ; and how a
single phrase of that address was made the text of a
46 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
hundred sermons. Yet the influence of Carlyle in Eng-
land was not equal to the influence of Emerson in
America. Nor will it be half as abiding. A far more
subtle intellect had the latter, and a far firmer grasp of
the principles on which all philosophers are united, and
the principles on which they specifically differ. And
strange to say, he never acquired that obscure and
Germanised style for which Carlyle will be for ever
remarkable. Not quite so pure, his style has all the
clearness and precision of Lord Bacon's. His sentences
are generally short, crisp, and full of meaning. It is
only when he speaks of the majesty and beauty of
Nature that he broadens out into stately and harmonious
lines, that remind one irresistibly of the prose-poems of
Euskin. And his essays and addresses are absolutely
bristling with sharp, pungent epigrams, each with its
grain of wisdom put as neatly as our cumbrous lan-
guage wdli allow. The author of the Novum Organum
would not have been ashamed of such sayings as these :
" Nature stretcheth out her arms to embrace man, only
let his thoughts be of equal greatness". "Nothing
divine dies." "All good is eternally reproductive."
"Words are signs of natural facts." "Children and
savages use only nouns or names of things, which they
continually convert into verbs, and apply to analogous
mental acts," etc., etc., etc. And Euskin, in his most
inspired moments, might have written of Nature thus : —
"But, in other hours. Nature satisfies the soul pm'ely
by its loveliness, and without any mixture of corporal
benefit. I have seen the spectacle of morning from the
hill-top over against my house, from daybreak to sun-
rise, with emotions which an angel might share. The
long slender bars of cloud float like fishes in the sea of
crimson light. From the earth, as a shore, I look out
into that silent sea. I seem to partake its rapid trans-
formation ; the active enchantment reaches my dust,
and I dilate and conspire with the morning wind. How
does Nature deify us with a few and cheap elements?
Give me health and a day, and I will make the pomp of
EMERSON: FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 47
emperors ridiculous. The dawn is my Assyria ; the
sunset and moonrise my Paphos and unimaginable
realms of faerie ; broad noon shall be my England of
the senses and understanding ; the night shall be my
Germany of mystic philosophy and dreams. Not less
excellent, except for our less susceptibility in the after-
noon, was the charm last evening of a January sunset.
The western clouds divided and subdivided themselves
into pink flakes modulated with tints of unspeakable
softness ; and the air had so much life and sweetness,
that it was a pain to come within doors. What was it
that Nature would say ? Was there no meaning in the
live repose of the valley behind the mill, and which
Homer or Shakespeare could not reform for me in
words ? The leafless trees become spires of flame in the
sunset, with the blue east for their background, and the
stars of the dead calices of flowers, and every withered
stem and stubble rimed with frost, contribute some-
thing to the mute music."
But it is with his thoughts we have principally to
deal, and they are manifold and brilliant. Wisdom
flashes everywhere through his writings — wise thoughts
that have never touched us before, and thoughts as
famihar to us as our daily prayers. It is a feature of
genius that it can present to us our own ideas, yet so
changed and coloured that we can scarcely recognise
them. The thought that we see from only one direc-
tion presents itself to the mind of a great thinker under
every aspect. And under every aspect it is shown us,
until we declare it unfamiliar and original. Like the
story of Faust, which is totally different as it comes
from the hands of Marlowe, and Goethe, and Bailey, or
the sweet legend of " the Falcon," which is one thing in
Coventry Patmore's verses, quite another in Tennyson's
drama, all our wise fancies come back to us in the pages
of Emerson, but so glorified and etherealised that we
cannot recognise them. The commonplace in his hands
becomes brilhantly original. Every page of his writings
sparkles with the wisest thoughts and the wittiest con-
48 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ceits ; and conjectures as lofty as ever disturbed the
mind of Plato are compressed with Scriptural con-
ciseness into a single line. Hence, a generation of
American scholars has sat at his feet, and accepted his
teachings as the sum and essence of all that is worth
knowing in ancient and modern philosophy. And hence,
too, to him more than to any other teacher of his time
is to be ascribed the fact that the best intellects of
America have been swept clear of every vestige of re-
vealed religion, and left blank to receive the new im-
pressions that have been made by the theories that of
latter years have been pushed to the front in the name
of science.
For Emerson, let it be said, was not a philosopher in
the same sense as Plato or Bacon. He is an eclectic ; but
by far the most brilliant of eclectics. He did not create
so much as collect. His warmest admirers cannot dis-
cover a trace of system in his writings. The sincerest
critic amongst his friends, Matthew Arnold, has declared
that he can never be considered a great philosophical
writer on account of his method, or rather want of
method, in writing. And yet it was apparently his am-
bition to construct such a system. He commenced by
removing all traces of the Divine Revelation of Chris-
tianity. Speaking of Carlyle he says, evidently in sym-
pathy with him, "that all his qualities had a certain
virulence coupled in his case with the utmost impatience
of Christendom and Jewdom, and all existing present-
ments of the 'good old story' ; " and in the introduc-
tion to his Essays he says : " The foregoing generations
beheld God and Nature face to face ; we, through their
eyes. Why should not we also enjoy an original rela-
tion to the universe ? Why should not we have a
poetry and philosophy of insight and not of tradition,
and a religion by revelation to us, and not the history
of theirs ? Embosomed for a season in Nature, whose
floods of life stream around and through us, and invite
us by the powers they supply to action proportioned to
Nature, why should we grope among the dry bones of
EMERSON : FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 49
the past, or put the Hving generation into masquerade
out of its faded wardrobe ? The sun shines to-day also.
There is more wool and flax in the fields. There are
new lands, new men, new thoughts. Let us demand
our own works, and laws, and worship." But although
he succeeded so far as to remove Christianity from the
minds of many, the religion which he was to found, the
worship he was to originate, the world has not as yet
seen. His religion or philosophical system was essen-
tially negative. Whenever he attempts to construct, he
drifts of necessity into pantheism as absolute as that of
Spinoza. His lofty idealism leads inevitably to this.
He cites approvingly the words of Turgot : " He that
has never doubted the existence of matter may be as-
sured he has no aptitude for metaphysical inquiries ".
It is the common opinion of all metaphysicians that,
as Sir W. Hamilton says, " The study of mind is neces-
sary to counterbalance and correct the study of matter ".
But Emerson declares that never yet has there been
made a single step in intellectual science that did not
begin in idealism. It is a necessity. The moment the
mind turns inward upon itself, and stands face to face
awe-stricken with its own creations, it begins to regard
all external things as dreams and shadows. It is with
us as with the monk in the Spanish convent — the men
and things that pass before our eyes, appearing and dis-
appearing, are but pictures and shades ; the paintings
on the walls, that is, our own ideas that are ever pre-
sent, are the only reahties. Hence he holds that there
is a necessary affinity between idealism and religion.
Both, he thinks, put the affront upon Nature. "The
things that are seen are temporal," says St. Paul, "the
unseen things are eternal." The uniform language of
the churches is : " Condemn the vain unsubstantial
things of this world ; they are fleeting and shadowy.
Seek the realities of religion." Plotinus, he says, was
ashamed of his body. Michael Angelo declared that
external beauty is but the frail and weary weed, in
which God dresses the soul, which He has called into
4
50 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
time. Like his German friends, Emerson has struck
upon a truth, but from what a different standpoint from
St. Paul's, and with what different conclusions ! He
will not rise, like the latter, to the " house of many
mansions," nor will he accept the doctrine, that what is
" sown in corruption will be reaped in incorruption ".
He flouts Nature, because he has not read its meaning,
nor will he believe the interpretations which Faith puts
upon it. But has he not gone too far ? He who has
written so beautifully of Nature, has he come to de-
spise her ? No. He sees he is drifting too far in the
dangferous current. And although he avows himself an
idealist, and holds that all culture tends to idealism, he
shrinks from the consequences. " I have no hostility
to Nature," he says, " but a child's love to it. Let us
speak her fair. I do not wish to fling stones at my
beautiful mother, nor soil my gentle nest." What
then ? Nature must be underrated and despised in the
religion of idealism. No, he says, but Nature itself
must be idealised. But how ? Mark the consequences.
" The mind," he says, "is a part of the nature of things,
the world is a Divine dream, from which we may pre-
sently awake to the glories and certainties of day.
There is a universal soul in all things. It is within and
behind man's individual life. Intellectually considered
we call it reason. Considered in relation to Nature, it
is Spirit. Spirit is the Creator. Spirit hath life in itself.
And man, in all ages and countries, embodies it in his
language as the Father. That Spirit creates. That
Spirit is one and not compound. That Spirit does not
act upon us from without, that is, in Space and Time, but
spiritually through ourselves. Man has access to the en-
tire mind of the Creator — is himself the Creator and the
Finite. I am part or particle of God." This, of course,
is the purest pantheism, and thus what is called Natural
Religion in its worst and lowest sense was put before
the thinking mind of America in its most subtle and at-
tractive form. The consequences are apparent. All Re-
velation is rejected, save such as comes intuitively from
EMERSON : FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 51
man's own consciousness, or is produced from the con-
templation of external nature. The Sacred Scriptures,
like the Koran or the Veda, are simply the histories and
legends of a fairly cultured race. The Hebrew prophets
are ranked with the priests of Vishnu and Buddha.
Christianity is only another form of the universal re-
ligion of mankind, and its Divine Author is classed with
Confucius and Plato. All divinely revealed doctrines of
the Trinity and Incarnation are allegories and myths,
and God Himself has no distinct personality, but is the
soul which pervades all things, and is incarnated in
Nature. Thus the young intellect of America has been
taught, and taught by a master whose personal character
added weight to every word which he spoke. Unlike
Carlyle, his idol, Emerson was essentially an optimist.
In the very attitude of modern society towards all great
spiritual questions, and in which the English philosopher
could only discern traces of inevitable spiritual dissolu-
tion, the American recognised elements of hope for the
future. Probably because he himself was so very san-
guine, and knew so little of men, he brought himself to
believe that his countrymen would be weaned more and
more from the pursuit of wealth and position, and come
to live more and more the true life of the Spirit, in which
he believed all real happiness to be found. In this he
was egregiously mistaken. Once in a century, perhaps,
some great hopeful mind like his may be able to wrap
itself up in its own ideas, and live a calm life full of all
serenity and dignity. But the world at large demands
something more positive and real than this. Theories,
however splendid, will not satisfy the eternal cravings
of the human mind for the knowledge that is not born
of itself ; and the grandest pantheistic conceptions may
flatter the vanity, but will never meet the wants, of
men. Yet a character like Emerson's, so delicate and so
elevated, had a lesson of its own for the refined and
impressive minds that gathered round him, and took
from him the ideas that were to serve for dogma, and
the discipline that took the place of virtue. But of
4 *
52 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
them, and in consequence of his influence over them,
we may ask in his own words, " AVhere dwells their
religion ? " And answer again in his own words, " Tell
me where dwells electricity, or motion, or thought, or
gesture? They do not dwell or stay at all." And the
Divine secret is reduced to the common platitude that
religion is the doing of all good, and for its sake the
suffering of all evil, souffrir de toiU le monde, et ne /aire
souffrir personne.
FKEE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA— THE SECTS—
THE CHURCH.i
In our last paper we tried to explain the nature of the
changes that took place with the growth of time and
thought in the mind of the first of American philoso-
phers, and the consequent disturbance of fixed beliefs
amongst that large and important section of the
American people who accepted his teaching without
question.
This strong bias towards scepticism was very much
increased by the close intercommunication that then was
established between the Old and the New Worlds. It is
very probable that the growing intellects of America, with
that natural elasticity by which the human mind reverts
to primal principles and truths, when uninfluenced by
external disturbing causes, would have sooner or later
recovered from unhealthy doubts and questionings to
strong and firm faith, were it not for the constant stream
of educated but prospectless men that poured into the
American Continent from Europe, and who brought
with them no capital, but free and vigorous intellects;
no religion, but the most liberal notions of all moral and
dogmatic truth. Introduced as the alumni of the great
university centres of free thought in Europe, they created
the idea, which still prevails, that a finished professional
education, much less a perfect philosophical education,
was not to be had at home — was not to be had anywhere,
in fact, except in the cherished sanctuaries of unbelief.
Hence, during these last decades, a returning stream
^ Irish Eccleisiastical Record, November, 1884.
54 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
has passed from the States to Europe, dividing itself at
Paris. The aesthetic or pleasure-loving American passes
into the cities of Northern Italy, and whiles away the
summer in the galleries of Florence, or in the shades of
Umbria. But the patrons of advanced thought plunge
at once into the German universities, study philosophy
under Virchow, and anatomy under Haeckel, and, re-
fined by a short residence in a London club, they return,
and from newspaper and tribune, in the daily fly-sheets,
and in the pages of the Popular Science Monthly, they
put forth their ideas boldly and ably, and scatter broad-
cast through America the principles they gathered in
Europe, and developed at leisure at home.
All these causes were remote and preparatory ; but
there is not a doubt but that they had undermined the
faith of thousands in systems of religious thought which
were supposed to be unassailable, and opened the way
for the last concentrated and sweeping attack that has
been made on Christianity. It commenced in the great
controversy that agitated the world thirty years ago,
and which originated in the assumption that the dis-
coveries of geologists were contradicting the testimony
of the Word of God. The controversy raged fiercely at
the time ; and nowhere were there more violent asser-
tions made that every stratum of rock discovered dis-
proved the teachings of Holy Writ ; and nowhere, too,
were more brilliant and learned defences made for the
integrity of Scriptural inspiration than in America.
The brilliant and successful labours of Hugh Miller in
England were rivalled in the States by Professors Dana
and Hitchcock, and the great naturalist, Agassiz. Then
came a lull. The cause of Geology versus Eevelation
was withdrawn, but scientific speculation had been
awakened. The study of the rocks was set aside ; but
in the laboratories of England and Germany, under the
clear light of the microscope. Nature was revealing new
wonders in plant and animal, and men's minds under
fierce excitement were arranging analogy after analogy,
and flashing back through countless centuries to the
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 55
nebulae of worlds, and the germs of all existing life.
Biology versus Creation now became the bm^ning ques-
tion. Is man the product of mechanical forces, working
up and out through the strata of matter, or is he indeed
the son of God, created to the image and likeness of the
Deity ? The doctors of the new science were Haeckel
of Germany, and Darwin of England. The apostles
were Tyndall in these islands, and Huxley of New York.
We remember what a thrill of horror penetrated the
world when, in 1874, Tyndall defiantly formulated and
unfolded at Belfast the full plan of the naked material-
ism that was to supplant the sacred traditions of human-
ity. Huxley, still more boldly, fled to America a few
years before, and in a series of lectures in New York
not only explained the new theories, but deduced from
them a series of conclusions as wanton and unconnected
as ever agonised the intellect of a logician. The mind
of America was agitated. The transcendentalism and
ill-concealed pantheism of Emerson were forgotten.
Speculation gave place to examination. The scientific
journals teemed with praises of the industry and enter-
prise of the evolutionists, and the world of science waited
on the tiptoe of expectation for the discovery which was
confidently promised— the link that was to connect the
organic with the inorganic world. It was not forth-
coming. But scientific speculation was accepted for
certain revelation, and men of science boldly launched
themselves against revealed religion under every form.
All the caution that was so carefully observed by rational-
ists of former years was cast aside ; the fear of wounding
susceptibilities, or of darkening the light of faith in minds,
where the torch of science could provide no adequate
substitute, was stated to be pusillanimous and childish.
Scepticism became dogmatic ; and by every class of
literary men, historians, metaphysicians and philo-
sophers, all faith in the supernatural was ridiculed as
a remnant of the weak and puerile superstitions of the
world in its infancy. Arrogant infidelity became supreme
in America. The absolute freedom of the press enabled
56 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the active propagandists of this new religion of science
to scatter their pernicious doctrines broadcast through
the land. Scientific journals of immense weight and
authority were assisted by the lighter magazines, and
these in turn by the daily papers, in making the theories
and deductions of evolutionists familiar to the masses of
the people. Light scientific lectures, ably illustrated,
opened up to wondering minds the spectacle of the world,
with all its vast complexities of animals, vegetables
and minerals, unfolding itself from the first atom, and
growing under the hands of some unseen power, with
mechanical precision, into a universe of surpassing love-
liness. And if these, in their exclusive devotion to
science, spared the susceptibilities of their audiences,
there were not wanting in the American cities street
preachers, and day lecturers, and pamphleteers, who
repeated in coarse and indecent jests the unqualified
contempt of their superiors for everything savouring of
religion. All our fundamental ideas of God and Reve-
lation, the soul and its everlasting destiny, the higher
moral sense, the spiritual desires and aspirations of men,
everything in fact that could be a motive of virtuous
actions, and a mainspring of noble deeds and ambitions,
was stigmatised as the fancy of superstition, or the
dream of enthusiasts, kept alive by an elaborate system
of priestcraft throughout the world. The fact that
nearly every preacher of the new creed had been obliged
to retract his assertions under the pressure of science
itself ; that Tyndall in all his later lectures withdrew
from the advanced position which he had taken at
Belfast; that Huxley, in his article "Biology," in the
EncyclopcBclia Britannica, absolutely contradicted his own
favourite theories ; and that Haeckel himself in his
addresses before the French Association, and in his
Natural History of Creation, was driven to admit the
necessity of an absolute beginning, was most carefully
kept in the background. In Germany and England the
ancient conservatism of the races, and their stern and
pitiless examination of these subversive doctrines,
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 57
compelled the materialists to limit their dogmatism.
America and France, let it be said, have stood forth in
ugly pre-eminence as the countries where infidehty has
taken its firmest foothold. In these lands it is no
longer disreputable. It is no disgrace to be known as
an atheist. That terrible name, which Voltaire in his
worst moments would have repudiated, that term of
shame which, even to depraved minds, carries with it
some nameless idea of turpitude, has been freely ac-
cepted, and even boasted of, under the euphemised form
of Agnostic and Materiahst. And all sacred things of
rehgion, names that were spoken with bared heads and
bended knees, sacred stories that had so often brought
comfort to the sorrowful, and sacred hopes that had so
long had their consecrated shrines in the human heart,
are made subject to derision. The scoff of the unbe-
liever has degraded in the eyes of thousands the purest
and holiest revelations of heaven.
Our examination into the growth of free-thought in
America would hardly be complete, did we not advert
for a moment to the luxury and voluptuousness of social
life, and to the corruption and venality that exist in all
the State departments. So far as the mere material
growth and progress of the States is concerned, these
things, which in an older and more thickly populated
country would be the prelude to extinction, will scarcely
have a perceptible effect. So long as the population is
not wedged together within limits that are impassable,
so long as there is free power of expansion, and unused
land with its teeming wealth lies open to the people,
there never can be those awful collisions between wealth
and poverty, the governing classes and the governed,
that are such perilous possibilities in older states. But
that excessive luxury, the facility of making and squand-
ering fortunes, and the competition for wealth, which is
so keen, that dishonesty is reputed a virtue — that these
things are inimical to religious feeling, and direct incen-
tives to infidelity, is beyond all dispute. The history of
the world testifies it. Athens, in the very climax of
58 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
freedom and prosperity, forgot its ancient deities, and
built statues to the Great Unknown. Rome, under the
emperors, lost faith in the gods, under whose tutelage
it was supposed to have waxed so strong. Florence,
under the Medici, became classic and pagan. Paris,
under Louis XIV., became the cradle and school of all
modern infidelity. England, under Victoria, is drifting
every day into the abj^sses. And America, whose am-
bition it is to rival and surpass these states and empires,
may succeed too in securing the doubtful honour of
towering above all in colossal iniquity. Certainly, if
there be any connection between free-living and free-
thinking, and some one has said, " Les passions sont
athees," it would not be rash to predict a supremacy in
evil for America. We will not go into details, but
mention that, as far back as the Civil AVar, and even
amidst its horrors, an outcry was raised against the
extravagance and voluptuousness of the cities of the
Union. Descriptions of revellings and riotous living
are quoted largely by Dr. Brownson in his Review,^ and
they read like a page from the Arabian Nights, or from a
history of Eome under Caligula. Now, if these things
were done twenty years ago, what shall be said of
America at present ? The answer, in all its painful
and vivid truth, may be read in Mr. Henry George's
latest work, called Social Problems.
We now come to the question, what defence has been
made b}^ the Christian communions of America against
the terrific assaults of infidelity ? We put aside for a
moment the Catholic Church, and we candidly admit
that all that could be done b}' human zeal, intensified
by the deadliness of the struggle, and fortified by learn-
ing as wide and deep as that of the adversary, was done
by the Evangelical churches of America. That their
pastors were at an earlj^ period quite alive to the dangers
which w^ere pressing on their traditional creeds, from
"^ Review, January, 1864; Art. "Popular Corruption and
Venality ".
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 59
within and without, was apparent from the efforts that
were made to secure for their theological students a most
accurate knowledge of those sciences which were as-
sumed to be in direct hostility to revealed religion.
Hence, divinity students from America crowded the
universities of Germany for the last fifteen years, and
returned to their missions fully equipped with every fact
and argument that could tell against the advancing lines
of infidelity. And if we except the standard works,
written by German divines, we hardly exaggerate when
we say, that by far the fullest and ablest defences of
Christianity have been made by the elders and professors
among the Non-Cathohc creeds of America. A mere
catalogue of the works issued by the religious press of
America during the last fifteen years would fill a volume.
To each succeeding phase of unbelief — Rationalistic,
Materialistic, and Positive — they opposed scholarship
that was very profound, and a tenacity for their faith
that was heroic. They established in their professional
schools, notably at Princeton and Andover, lectureships
on the relation between religion and the sciences. And,
not being impeded by strict theological courses, they had
leisure to devote themselves to the philosophical studies
which have become of such supreme importance in our
days. It ought, therefore, to be a matter of regret that they
were unable to counteract the influences of free-thought.
In their defeat there is the pathos that always hangs
around the brave defenders of a hopeless cause. They
went down like the Israelites before the Philistines, be-
cause they had not the Ark of God in their midst.
Stubbornly they contested every issue, and gradually
they had to abandon point after point of cherished beliefs,
which were doubly hallowed by the worship of their
ancestors and the robust traditions of their race. But
no purely human institutions could stand the merciless
criticism that rained from press and platform on doc-
trines that had no better support than the frail logic of
the class-room, set in stereotyped forms, and supported
by ancient texts, which had lost all their inspired vigour,
60 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
because they had been irreverently handled by every in-
dividual who claimed the right of private judgment.
The Nemesis of the Eeformation has assuredly come.
Its own children have risen against it. They have
pushed its lessons to their logical conclusions. With
audacity unheard of before our century, they have as-
sailed every doctrine, not only of Christian, but even of
Theistic behef, and the churches have gone down before
their assaults like cities built upon the sand. Every
familiar doctrine must be modified to meet the require-
ments of science ; the integrity of Scriptural inspiration
must be abandoned ; the deeply cherished doctrines that
the Pm-itans brought over in the Mayjiotver, and which
were reverenced as the Israelites reverenced the Ark and
its Tables — the dogmatic articles which lit the faggot
and heated the brand in the New England cities — have
been swept away ruthlessly by the broader views of that
liberahsm which environs all thought in om- time. The
texts and tenets which went to build up the edifice of
Calvinistic theology, and which generations of elders
regarded as irrefragable, have been torn in pieces and
flung to the winds by the contemptuous logic of latter-
day infidels ; and even that sacred belief, in which were
centred all hopes of comfort here and happiness here-
after — the behef in the Word of God, the " sword of the
spirit" — has become as vague a source of religious
thought as the intuitions of the philosopher, or the reason
and spirit of Emerson. "Faith in spiritual and divine
realities," says an American divine, "may, in some of
its older forms, be passing into Herbert Spencer's
' family of extinct beliefs ' ; " and his only hope is, that
he may be allowed to help in the general movement
towards a faith at once " more simple, more rational and
more assured ". It is the same writer,^ whose works have
become very popular in England, who declares, " that the
system of philosophy in the Westminster confession we
are not bound to accept"; "that we are anxious to do
^ Dr. Newman Smith.
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 61
the real work of revision, to adjust our own faiths happily
to modern conditions of thought, and to learn to preach
them in new tongues of knowledge ".^ And he says that
he would be far more reticent of his views in addressing a
lay than a clerical assembly ; " for if I had been called
upon to address, upon the same topic, an ecclesiastical
assembly, my growing conviction of the need of a re-
vised theology, suited to our scientific environment, and
fitted to survive our modern thought, would have led
me to lay the stress of my argument even more strongly
upon the desirability of a restatement of the standards,
particularly of my own, the Presbyterian Church ".^ And
he quotes with approval the Cambridge platform of the
Congregational churches, in which it was expressly writ-
ten that in the examination of candidates for admission
to the Church, a " rational charity " should be exercised,
and the " weakest measure of faith " should be accepted.
A creed which thus can be recast and fitted in every
new setting of science has neither elements of cohesion
and unity in itself, nor powers of resistance sufficient to
maintain a distinct and specific existence as a religion.
We can hardly be surprised to hear then, that, in New
York, the churches are comparatively deserted, nor to
read the following verdict on Protestantism by one of
its own professors: "The great bulk of the Protestant
Church is identified with the world. It has a name to
live, while it is dead. It has turned its doctrines into
nationalism, or rationalism, and its life into selfishness.
The old landmarks are gone. Family prayer is given
up. Prayer meetings are ignored, worldly partnerships
are formed, social sins are connived at, and even ex-
cused, the pulpit is made a stage on which to strut and
pose before a gaping world, and rehgion is made one of
the instruments of fashion."^
We turn at last from the weakness and defeat of the
sects to contemplate the attitude of the Church towards
^ Orthodox Theoloffi/ of To-day.
'^ Idem. See Preface. ^ Dr. Crosby, Now York.
62 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
free-thought. And at first sight there seems to be such
absolute indifference in the Church to the dangers that
paralysed the sects, that we are inclined to set it down
to a want of forethought and prudence that seems in-
explicable. We recognise none of that anxiety, and
even panic, that drove hundreds of Episcopalians and
Presbyterians to the Divinity schools of Germany, we
see no chairs of biological, or other sciences, established
in Catholic schools, we notice the total absence of any
desire to adapt the teachings of the Church to the dic-
tates of the sciences, or the wants of the age. But the
closer the subject is studied, the more majestic appears
the attitude of perfect security with which the American
Church regards the last and worst of the heresies. In
this she presents in miniature the history and character
of the Church from the beginning. Far removed from
the tumult and warring of sects and creeds, the Church
looks imperturbably on the ever-shifting phases of spirit-
ual thought in which heresy and infidelity present
themselves ; but is calm about her own future, for her
lease of existence and of triumph reaches unto the years
of eternity. This attitude of security the Church in
America has assumed. She, too, inherits the eternal
promises, for she is linked in visible bonds of unity with
the Catholic Church. And with singular facility she
has adapted herself to the free institutions of America,
as easily as if she were not born under an Empire.
Democratic ideas fit in with her dogma and discipline,
as easily as those of monarchies. Here is her strength —
that whilst she allows her children the fullest liberty
in pohtical and social life, she maintains her authority
in doctrine and discipline as firmly as in the lands
where saints were born and the blood of martyrs was
shed. Inflexibihty in her teaching, universality in her
sympathies, and constancy in active well-doing — here
are her credentials to the American nation, here are her
answers to the controversies which agitate the world
around her. Whilst patronising the sciences, and adapt-
ing to her own wants every element of human progress.
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 63
she continues to preach and demand submission to doc-
trines that were weighty with age in the remote periods
when the prototypes of our modern agnostics assailed
them. To all objections against the truth of her teaching
she has but one answer — the steady unvarying assertion
of her exclusive right to teach the world. This Divine
despotism, even in the land of freedom, is her buckler and
defence. And hence is she free to exercise her undoubted
strength to bind closer and closer in compact organisa-
tion the territories and races that acknowledge her
supremacy. With a hierarchy chosen, not so much on
account of the great oratorical abilities, or liberal scholar-
ship of its individual members, as for their splendid
administrative talents ; with a priesthood which com-
bines in a singular manner the freest republican habits
and sympathies with the steadiest adhesion to ecclesi-
astical principles ; with a press second to none in the
world, in abihty and enterprise, and characterised by
special zeal for the sacred cause it espouses ; and with
an aggregate of races, differing in customs and even
in language, but united in the bonds of religion ; the
Church in America appears to be not so much a human
association as a vast mechanism, which is for ever giving
and receiving, expanding and developing, with a silent
power that seems irresistible. It has all the advantages
of action over speculation, for it has all the advantages
of firm faith over wavering unbelief. Carlyle somewhere
quotes Goethe as saying that " belief and unbelief are
two opposite principles in human nature. The theme
of all human history, so far as we are able to perceive
it, is the contest between these two principles. All
periods in which belief predominates, in which it is
the main element, the inspiring principle of action, are
distinguished by great, soul-stirring, fertile events, and
worthy of perpetual remembrance ; and on the other
hand, when unbelief comes to the surface, that age
is unfertile, unproductive and intrinsically mean. There
is no pabulum in it for the spirit of man." The Church
in America is proof of this. It anticipates all the am-
64 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
bitions of the philosopher. It foreshadows all the
benevolent ideas of the best among the unbelievers.
Its charity is wider than the world's philanthropy. Its
devotion to the arts, which consecrate civilisation, is
for ever showing itself far in advance of the barren
sympathies of the educated and irreligious. Shall we
then complain of the inaction of the Church in America ?
Or wonder that it has not come down to the arena of
controversy with the unbeliever? Well, controversy
was never yet the vehicle of Divine Faith. But Faith
itself, manifested in works which touch the sympathies
of all, may generate Faith in the infidel. " Show us
your works," was the cry of the Parisian students which
inspired Frederic Ozanam to found his great society.
And it is not to great scholars like the Abbe Moigno,
but to the Sisters of Charity and the priests, who
hovered round the beds of the cholera patients, that
we are to attribute that relenting towards the Church
which we witness in contemporary France. The world,
we are told, now demands what is real and positive in
preference to what is imaginary and conjectural. Well,
here is the Divine Positivism of the Church, its active
benevolence, its never-failing charity, its patronage of
the arts and sciences, its persistent devotion to the
cause of education. And after all, is not the attitude
of the Church completely justified by the fact that the
strongest assertions of the infidels have been withdrawn ?
We have already quoted some retractations. But it
may be safely said that the history of heresies affords
no parallel to the dogmatism and assertiveness of the
materialists, or the abject manner in which they have
withdrawn, in the face of the world, their boldest and
most impious declarations. We must not, however, be
supposed to hold either that a liberal scholarship is not
necessary for the priesthood of America, or that the
American seminaries do not afi"ord it to ecclesiastical
students. The Church must always be in advance of
the world. The priest must lead the flock. And his
spiritual instructions will carry all the more weight when
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 65
it is understood that the pastor is a man of culture and
refinement, and that his condemnation' of new and
fanciful theories comes from his belief, founded on fair
and exhaustive reading, that they are utterly untenable.
A Secchi in his lone observatory may be doing the
work of an apostle. Men will reverence knowledge
wherever found, and the natural abilities of the scholar
may lead many souls to acknowledge the supernatural
mission of the priest. Hence it has delighted all lovers
of the American Church to hear that of late years the
students in theological seminaries have been able to
read a complete course of divinity and philosophy, and
that missionary requirements will not for the future
necessitate a curtailed and unsatisfactory preparation for
the greatest of missions. We may mention, too, that
the exhibitions of the Brothers of the Christian schools
in London lately have shown that in Manhattan College
the professors are quite alive to the necessity of taking
their places in the foremost lines of scientific thought ;
and we might fairly judge by analogy, if we did not
already know it as a fact, that a similiar spirit prevails
in every Catholic seminary in the States.
There are just two difficulties that bar the progress
of the Church in America. Both will engage the
earnest attention of the prelates who, on the 9th of this
month, will meet in solemn council at Baltimore. The
first and greatest is the question of State schools. That
these schools do not subserve the interests of religion or
morality is already proved by the fact that the bishops
have found it necessary, at enormous sacrifices, to es-
tablish Catholic schools in their cities. These schools
are supported by the different churches ; and we can
understand what a hardship this is, when we are told
that many churches in the city of New York are obliged
to spend 12,000 dollars, or £2,500 a year, in maintain-
ing these schools in such a state of efficiency that they
can compete successfully with the public schools. There
appears to be no great probability that the State will
change this secular system of education, and thus reheve
5
66 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Catholics from the burden of double taxation. Neither
is there any likelihood that these public schools will im-
prove their teachings. And, of course, following the
tendencies of our age, many Catholic parents will send
their children to the Government schools, reckless of
their faith, if their temporal welfare be secured.
The second great difficulty for the Church is to re-
claim the thousands who, with singular perversity, have
chosen for their homes the tenements of New York in
preference to the freedom and health of the broad
prairies towards the West. That these dark places of
the great city are nurseries of vice, that the children
born in them are reared in spiritual bHndness, and that
myriads of them drift away towards heresy and in-
fidelity, are things which no one desires to conceal, but
for which no remedy has yet been found. But all
future emigrants will be protected and warned against
the most unhappy social tendency of our age — the con-
centration of vast masses of people in districts where the
laws of God and the laws of health are alike disre-
garded.
If the evils of public schools and the evils of the
cities be once removed, the Church in America has a
future before it which the imagination itself fails to
reach. We expect to see in the States a rehgious re-
volution such as we behold at present in Europe. We
think that wdth the advance of education, most of the
Protestant sects will disappear, or, merging with each
other, descend to the dead level of Unitarianism. AVe
do not believe that Atheism, pure and simple, can ever
become the creed of vast masses of the population in
America or elsewhere. But the Deism of Emerson and
the philosophers will probably draw to itself all other
creeds, except in some remote districts where, in a rustic
Sion or Bethel, the local deacon will still read the Bible
and preach some surviving doctrines of the ancestral
faiths. The Church will then be confronted with the
rational and consistent beliefs of the followers of natural
rehgion. And then, too, even as now, will it show that
FREE-THOUGHT IN AMERICA 67
it is the custodian of all Divine Revelation, the living
interpreter of the mind of God towards men, that it
knows no change or shadow of change, but is perfect in
its light as at the beginning. And the Universal Church
will recognise it as a fair compensation for all the losses
she has sustained in her combats with heresy and in-
fidelity in these evil days — as the fairest province in
The fair Kingdom wide as earth, .
Citied on all the mountains of the world,
The image, glory-touched, of that great city
Which waits us in the heavens.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I.^
The question of higher or University Education, which
is generally regarded as one of vital issue from its bear-
ings upon the moral and intellectual hfe of a nation, is
in the near future to be submitted to us again. And
this fact alone, apart from the transcendent importance
of the subject, is the only apology we offer for present-
ing this paper to the readers of the Becord.
University Education in this modern world is sup-
posed to have reached its most perfect form in Germany ;
and to Germany we must go to understand fully what
appears to be the highest conception of University life,
its spheres of thought limited only by the boundary
lines of human knowledge, and its work, free and flexible,
vnthin rigid principles of religion on the one hand, and
patriotism on the other. As a guide we shall take one
of the most interesting books produced in our genera-
tion, written, strangely enough, by a French priest,
Pere Didon, who made the largest sacrifice a French-
man can make, that of national vanity, for the purpose
of teaching a wholesome lesson to his nation. The
book appears to have been wrung from him by a kind
of torture, to which, indeed, he voluntarily subjected
himself ; and his broad philosophical habit of general-
isation is very often broken abruptly by an exclamation
of pain, when he sees some striking instance of German
superiority, or some special manifestations of the
patriotic instinct, which is so universal in its extent, and
so well directed in its energies. From the day when,
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Becord, June, 1886.
68
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 69
midst a crowd of students, German and foreign, he
signed his name, Guliehnus Didon, in the album of the
University of Berlin, and touched the rector's hand
as a kind of honourable oath to be true to the traditions
of the place, down to the time when his book came forth
from the press, and was received with a scream of agony
from his vain countrymen, Pere Didon went through
purgatorial pains, with one sentence of solace in his
heart : " You shall know the truth, and the truth shall
make you free ". The two best books on Germany have
been written by French litterateurs. Madame de Stael
was the first in Europe to understand and manifest the
riches and power of German literature. Pere Didon,
nearly half a century later, has written the latest and
best book on the springs and sources of the political and
hterary pre-eminence of the same nation. But De Stael
at least commenced to write in a tone of superiority as
one who, brought up in more than Attic or Augustan
refinement, had suddenly discovered pearls amongst
barbarians. Pere Didon wrote in a more humble, and
perhaps truthful, spirit, when German power and intel-
lect were acknowledged through the world, and his
own country was writhing in the shame of a defeat,
which resulted from forces generated in the German
Universities, and directed through the channels of mili-
tary organisation. To trace to its springs the power
that had proved so disastrous to his own country— the
power that came down like the rock cut from the ixioun-
tain, which shivered the statue of brass with the feet
of clay;; to study the secrets of the energies which trans-
formed a race barbarous up to yesterday into kings of
intellect to-day, clothing themselves with the richest
spoils of Greek and Oriental culture, and evolving and
creating with superabundant plenteousness ideas and
institutions that will minister to the intellectual wants
of generations yet unborn — this was a task of observa-
tion and analysis, repulsive and uncongenial enough,
yet all the more fruitful, let us hope, for his own
country and for the world.
70 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
There are twenty-two Universities in Germany,^ as
uniform in teaching, and as easy in discipline, as the
most rigid dogmatist on the one hand, or the broadest
Epicurean on the other, could desire. They are
scattered through the empire and its provinces as if by
accident, sometimes buried in mighty cities, hke Berlin,
sometimes, like Gottingen, creating quiet towns by
sleepy rivers. In the more modern Universities like
Munich and Berlin, the patrons of science amongst the
regal and ducal families have built palaces as the homes
of the learned. In the more ancient, the University
building is an old convent, as at Leipsic ; or a dismantled
fortress, forming the centre of a splendid architectural
pile, as at Tiibingen. The teaching of the smallest, as
well as of the largest University, embraces the four
great faculties of Theology, Jurisprudence, Medicine
and Philosophy. The Theological faculty is sometimes
exclusively Protestant, as at Berhn, Gottingen and
Halle, at which latter place one of the strongest assaults
ever made on Christianity was led by the rationalist.
Wolf ; sometimes Catholic exclusively, as at Breslau,
Miinster and Wiirzburg ; sometimes Catholic and Pro-
testant, each, of course, with its own professors, as at
Tiibingen, where there are 374 Protestant and 179
Cathohc students of Theology. And a student is at
perfect hberty to pass from University to University,
from one famous professor to another, according to the
bent of his own inclinations, and the attractions of the
great intellects, which direct thought in these schools
of the highest science. There with the humming of
the busy world around him, if his University happens
to be located in a city ; or if in a country town, in a
^Tliat is in the Empire, viz., thirteen in Prussia, the duchies
and the annexed provinces — Berlin, Bonn, Braunsberg, Breslau,
Friburg, Grieswald, Halle, Heidelberg, Kiel, Konigsberg, Marburg,
Miinster and Rostock ; one in Saxony — Leipzig ; one in the duchy
of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha — Jena ; one in the grand duchy of Hesse —
Giessen ; three in Bavaria — Munich, Wlirsburg, Erlangen ; one in
Wiirteraburg — Tubingen ; one in Hanover — Gottingen ; one in
Alsace — Strasburg.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 71
silence and calm as deep as that which falls upon Char-
treuse, when the evening antiphon has been sung, and
the echoes of the last footsteps have died along the
twilight corridors, the student, with his mind already
stored with the facts of science and history, and the
principles of art, is enabled to collate, combine, and
generalise in that high faculty of Philosophy, which is
the term of all education. And how easy and elastic is
the discipline of those German Universities, and how
charmingly Bohemian is the hfe the students lead ! A
slice of ham and a glass of beer for breakfast — an
adjournment to the hall where the students leap over
desks and benches to their places with the inevitable
note-book in their hands, the solitary black-board and
piece of chalk for the professor, who enters with the
students, places his cap with theirs, and commences his
hour's lecture without comment or preface, and without
the slightest attempt at style, telling the hardest facts,
and explaining the highest problems in the plainest
manner that the German tongue will allow ; then an
adjournment to the restaurant, where professor and
students sit around the same table, and the thread of
the lecture is taken up, and in a perfectly informal
manner the difficulties of Arabic, or cuneiform in-
scriptions, or absolute idealism are explained ; or a quiet
stroll by the banks of the river, and confidential revela-
tions of the arcana of Science and Philosophy, when
the professor has gathered around him some of his
favourite pupils, who may yet perhaps, he thinks, stand
on the high table-lands of science with the masters at
whose feet he himself sate and studied !
I suppose no two races were ever more dissimilar in
habits, tastes, and temperament, than the ancient Greeks
and the modern Germans. The capricious, artistic,
wayward sons of Athens were the exact antitheses of
the dreamy, yet plodding and practical Germans. Yet
the genius of both lands has struck out a University
system, which in its scope and object, and even in the
details of working, are very much alike. The Athenian
72 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ephebi were the prototypes of the modern German
students. Living either in private residences, or to-
gether in colleges, they attended at will the lectm-es of
the philosophers, who attracted admiring crowds at the
Lyceum, or in the Academy, or in the Porch ; and these
halls of learning, as well as the hospitahty of Athens,
were thrown open not only to the children of the city,
but to dusky strangers from Egypt, the cradle of all
philosophy ; to students from the distant shores of the
^gean, and, above all, to those of the great Semitic
race, which even then, with its Sacred Books, held a
foremost place in the world of culture, for its professors
were inspired and its Philosophy divine.^ And in Athens,
as in the Germany of to-day, the professorial system
obtained. Zeno in his porch, Plato in his little garden
near the sacred Eleusinian way, Aristotle in the Lyceum,
or in his residence by the banks of Ilyssus, seem to us
the far-off images of Kant and Hegel and Fichte, or the
more modern professors, as they move freely amongst
the students, who look to them for guidance, and teach
the highest synthesis of all Science by the banks
of rivers as famed as Ilyssus, or under the shadows of
mountains, peopled with the phantoms of poetic
dreamers, and as sacred to German genius as Olympus
or Parnassus to the Greeks. It is to men and not to
books that these two great nations, separated by fifteen
centuries of time, commit the intellectual training of
their youth. Schools are founded bearing the names of
great professors or the philosophical systems they
established, and each student attaches himself at will to
that school or that professor to whom he feels him-
self particularly attracted. The professor dictates, the
students listen and VTrite, for the note-book is the
armoury of the modern German student, as it was of
the Athenian, who, however, more aristocratic and
luxurious in disposition, took his slave to the lecture as
^ Vide Card. Newman's Idea of a University. Discourse, " Chris-
tianity and Letters," p. 264.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 73
amanuensis. No pedagogic system of question and
answer ! Athirst for knowledge, the student hangs on
the nps of his professor, and it is only after the lecture
is finished that he can approach his master, and lay his
difficulties before him. Hence, too, there is no pro-
gramme in our sense of the word. Twice a year the
Senate of the University appoints the subjects to be
treated, and the hours for lecture. In the Maxima
Aula, or corridor of the University, the professors put
up their notices, written and signed by themselves.
The students must select the lectures they wish to
attend. They give their names to the quaestor, and pay
the master's fees. They call on him once more to get
their books signed, and are then free to be studious or
idle, careless or assiduous, as they please. The Univer-
sity course terminates with the examination for a
Doctor's degree. The title is indispensable for those
who are about to practise medicine, or who aspire to a
professorship. Otherwise it is purely a title of honour ;
but such honour as to make men, during the eight half-
years of the University course, study and toil in a
manner which makes the students of other countries
the merest amateurs by comparison. He who possesses
that title in Germany stands enrolled in the only aristo-
cracy which that democratic nation acknowledges — the
aristocracy of talent. Learned men form an estate by
themselves. They represent the intelligence of the
Empire, and as such are returned to Parliament. There
are no less than eighty Doctors in the German Beichstag.
So far we have followed Pere Didon. But here we
must notice some points on which he differs from per-
haps the two greatest specialists, if we may use the word,
in this matter of University Education — Cardinal New-
man and Dr. Pusey. He differs from the former in his
idea of the scope or object of University Education ;
he differs from the latter in his idea of the system of
education that ought to be pursued. The difference
with the former, however, is infinitesimal ; with the
latter, in his statement of principles and results, the
74 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
difference is wide and deep. In the meaning of the
word University, as a term embracing all science, human
and divine, in the absolute logical necessity of including
theology amongst the sciences, and the grave detriment
to society and rehgion which is done by excluding it
from University teaching, and confining it to a special
faculty in a high school, the French Dominican and the
great Oratorian are one. The ideas of Cardinal New-
man on this subject are so well known, through his
admirable lectures delivered before the students of the
Catholic University, Dublin, that we forbear quoting
them here. But as Pere Didon's book is not quite
so well known, we would ask our readers to look up
Discourses I., II., III., IV., in Newman's Idea of a
University, and compare them with the following ex-
tracts which are rather long, but which perhaps will be
read with interest.
I. — The Scope of University Education.
" Nothing shows better the progress of the culture of
the mind than a simple comparative glance at higher
education amongst ancient and modern nations. They
both consider it as universal ; but what a difference in
the universality of each ! With the ancients, education
may be likened to a lake, the banks of which being
limited are easily explored ; with us it is like a shoreless
ocean — the farther yoM explore it, the vaster it appears.
Genius is no longer a beacon on the shore ; it is a star,
shining above the reefs, in the immensity of the skies ;
it no longer shows the port — the port no longer exists.
It only shows the way through the rolling and stormy
waves. Knowledge is infinite ; man, who pursues it,
dies in the midst of the immensity. What he explored
is nothing, being easily measured. What remains to be
discovered is unlimited ; in fathoming it, imagination
and reason draw back confounded. Nevertheless, man-
kind goes on without rest. Some irresistible attraction
carries it towards truth. It lives only in order to learn,
and learns only to rule over this world, the prey given
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 75
by God to its devouring and sublime curiosity. There
are now among enlightened nations two kinds of public
institutions for the diffusion, the culture, and the pro-
gress of higher Education — the High Schools and the
Universities. High Schools present everywhere a
double character — they are special, that is, exclusively
limited to certain branches of general knowledge ;
utilitarian, that is, having in view some more or less im-
mediate practical object. Their tendency is to obtain
increasing influence in modern civilisation. From year
to year their number increases as the province of know-
ledge extends its limits, as men become more energetic-
ally intent upon learning, as the utility of science
becomes more obvious through the increase of wealth,
security and comfort. Special schools are everywhere
founded for training men capable of directing and
managing the forces at work in the field open to their
activity. Universities differ from High Schools pre-
cisely in these two respects — instead of one branch of
knowledge only, their aim is to reach all its branches, to
constitute a synthesis thereof ; instead of giving to
studies a professional direction, they aspire to pure
science, and in cultivating the latter in view of some
practical application, they cultivate it for itself. Know-
ledge and ability : these two words explain the aim of
human life. The one might be engi'aved on the frontis-
piece of the Alma Mater, the other be written over the
doors of all High Schools, hi Universities are trained
great sioeoulative minds ; in High Schools great ivorhers. In
the former discoveries are made ; in the latter they are use-
fully aj^jMed. The first is the realm of enlightenment ; the
second tliat of activity."
II. — The Theological Faculty.
" If Germany was wrong in not completing the old
University organisation,^ other modern nations com-
mitted a much more serious fault — they reduced it.
' By neglecting Leibnitz's last wish — the institution of a new
faculty, called economic (J'aculte economique).
76 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
"In Kussia, as in America; in France, as in Italy;
almost everywhere the faculties of Theology have been
eliminated from the encyclopsedic organisation of knovs^-
ledge. I am wrong ; Theology has not been suppressed ;
it has been made, like the military art, a professional
faculty ; it has not been destroyed ; it has been shut
up and isolated in schools — closed to the life of the
general public. Wherever the regime of the union of
both powers exists — wherever the Church and the State,
as subject or as mistress, remain united, in Austria, in
Germany, in England — religious science continues to
be an integral part of higher knowledge, and Theology
occupies the first place in universal organisation. With
nations, where the struggle has been more hardly fought,
it tends to disappear. In Italy, Theology has been
excluded from the twenty-one new Universities of the
young kingdom, and has been obliged to seek refuge
in large seminaries or in half-ruined cloisters. In
France, official and pubhc opinion has but little re-
gard for supernatural science, but men of talent there
often reawaken the honour of faith by their eloquence
and their culture. We still possess five faculties of
Theology ; but these faculties, frequented only by ama-
teurs, have no influence on the training of the Clergy ;
they are but the ghost of a great name, the last
threatened debris of an old regime that is fast falling
to pieces. In Germany, however, the State does not
pretend to teach its own theology, its own philosophy,
its own science, its own politics. It authorises the
teachings required by public opinion or by the wants
of the population, with the welfare of which it is
entrusted. Are the Catholics in a majority? they
possess, as at Breslau, their own faculty of Theology.
Are the Protestants in a majority? they, in turn, have
their Protestant faculty. Are the numbers equal ? then,
as at Tubingen, Protestants and Catholics alike have
their own faculty. As regards scientific and philo-
sophical liberty, it is seen at work in the faculty of
Philosophy. All practical interests are thus taken into
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 77
account. Doctrines may, at will, battle against one
another. Are we to deplore this? By no means, if
men respect themselves. The discussion of philosophi-
cal or religious truths has become, with us, a necessity ;
and Universities are the fit arenas for such debates.
The best, the sure means, to withdraw religion and
religious questions from the discussion of the streets,
is to give them the shelter of Universities. Must we
therefore do away with seminaries in our own country ?
I do not think so ; but, no doubt, valuable advantages
would accrue from their being completed by regular
faculties of Theology, wherein the future priests, sent
there by their bishops, would come to study. Divine
Science would once more find itself in vivifying contact
with all human science. Like them, it mast live ; and
to do this it must commingle with the progressive life
of human things. Isolated, it remains unmoved in its
rigid formulse — it crystalHses ; cast into the ground, the
formula becomes a living germ ; it shoots, grows, trans-
forms itself, assimilates. In passing through the ideas
of Greek Philosophy, what did not these simple words,
" Son of God," theologically commented upon, produce ;
and what wealth did not Christian Philosophy heap up,
solely by the contact with Oriental Metaphysics, and by
the sole development of a cultivated reason, which knew
how to draw logical conclusions from revealed principles ?
This necessity the Germans have duly recognised. In
it is to be seen one of the most active causes of the
superiority with respect to erudition and science of the
German clergy over the clergy of other nations ! "
From the comparison thus instituted it will easily be
seen how these two distinguished minds agree. The
one point on which they differ is, that Pere Didon insists
that in Universities science must be studied for itself, and
its professional application left to the High Schools ; that
therefore its province is to train great speculative minds, and
to give the largest field and the best possible appliances
for the experiments and research which are usefully ap-
plied in the Higher Schools ; that therefore Universities
78 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
are places where knowledge must be pursued for its own
sake, and the pursuit of it be disinterested, whereas in
the High Schools the pursuit of knowledge is decidedly
utilitarian. Now, whilst agreeing with most of these
principles, Cardinal Newman, in his preface to the work
already alluded to, is of opinion that philosophical
inquiries belong rather to Academies, which sometimes
are connected with Universities, sometimes subordinate
to their rules, sometimes quite independent of them,
such as the Eoyal Society which originated in Oxford
— the Ashmolean and Architectural Societies — the
British Association — the Antiquarian Society — the Royal
Academy, etc. ; and his Eminence quotes Cardinal
Gerdil : " Ce n'est pas qu'il y ait aucune veritable op-
position entre I'esprit des Academies et celui des Univer-
sites ; ce sont seulement des vues differentes. Les
Universites sont etablies pour enseigner ^ les sciences
aux dleves qui veulent s'y former ; les Academies se
proposent de nouvelles reoherches a faire dans la carriere
des Sciences. Les Universites d'ltalie ont fourni
des sujets qui ont fait honneur aux Academies ; et
celles-ci ont donne aux Universites des Professeurs,
^ This point appears to have attracted a good deal of attention.
In a lengthy article in the Edinburgh Review, July, 1852, on the
Oxford University Commission Report, the writer says: "By the
decay of the Professoriate, one of the two primary functions of a
University, the cultivafioii of lyrofovMd learning, has been almost
entirely abandoned. Study, and self-improvement, and original
investigation, are sacrificed to the educational office. The Univer-
sity, accordingly, is stripped of literary greatness ; and, abandoned
to hard-working schoolmasters or indolent dignitaries, is compelled
to borrow its literature, its text-books, its authoritative commen-
taries on the philosophy, history, poetry, and divinity which it
studies, the fundamental principles of its criticism and of its in-
tellectual life from without, from foreigners or non-residents ; whilst
the nation loses that learning, so more than ever important in these
days of commercial growth and material prosperity, which the
University was specially designed to encourage and perpetuate."
Almost precisely the same ideas are to be found in a treatise written
by Mr. Mark Pattison, B.D., Rector of Lincoln College, Oxford,
and entitled "Suggestions on Academical Organisation, with
special reference to Oxford". Edinburgh, 1868.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 79
qui out rempli les chaires avec la plus grande dis-
tinction." And the greatest thinkers of the world, his
Eminence says, have shunned the lecture-room and the
professor's chair ; and in silence and retirement origin-
ated the ideas which have shaped the courses of men's
thoughts. As a proof, the names of Pythagoras, Thales,
Plato, Aristotle, Friar Bacon and Newton are quoted ;
and Socrates and Lord Bacon admitted as exceptions.
There cannot be a doubt that the marvellous progress
which science has made since these lectures were de-
hvered (1852), more than justify Dr. Newman's con-
clusions. During these thirty years the men of "light
and leading," almost in every department of human
science, have been specialists, who having once taken
their degrees, and sometimes without having passed
through an academical course, devoted themselves,
without being hampered by professional duties, to the
development of that particular art or science to which a
special attraction was felt. We need only mention
Edison in Mechanical Science ; Tyndall and Huxley in
Natural Philosophy and Biology ; Kuskin and Carlyle
in Literature ; Pasteur and Koch in Anatomy and
Physiology ; Secchi in Astronomy. We must also
admit that the Germans have not had much success in
scientific generalisations ; and have mastered and im-
proved upon the theories and discoveries of other
nations rather than originated any bold conception
themselves. They cannot show scientists who for
success in original research can be compared to Lin-
naeus, Lyell, Darwin, Lavoisier, Lamark and Carnot.
But for earnest unflagging energy in pursuing studies,
such as Philology, where a talent for discovery rather
than for speculation is required, for the indefatigable
industry with which the physical sciences are pursued,
in the multitude of students and professors who in
every department of human and divine knowledge are
working with passionate earnestness, in the intermin-
able series of excellent books which are produced on
every possible Bubject^ a^nd, above all, in the pursuit of
80 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Philosophy — the correlation of all arts and sciences
towards each other, the Germans have no equals.
Darwin, in his English laboratory, puts forth timidly an
idea. It is taken up in Germany, developed, and made
a prolific science, before he has assured himself even of
its probability. Pasteur or Dumas gives to the world
the latest secret Nature has told him. Whilst he is yet
wondering at the revelation, scientfic treatises on that
discovery, with all its bearings on human knowledge or
happiness, are in the hands of his pupils. Every day
translations of German scientific works are issued in
France. The inspiration of science falls in England
or France, but the germs are borne to their Teutonic
neighbours, and there they fructify. But there are two
departments — and these the highest — where the observa-
tions of Cardinals Newman and Gerdil will hardly
apply ; and to these particularly Pere Didon refers. The
great masters in Theology were its professors ; and the
same is true of its kindred science — Metaphysics. And
we speak with all possible hesitation and reserve, when
we say that we alwaj^s thought that the master-minds
of antiquity, particularly Plato and Aristotle, whose in-
fluence on human thought is, and must be, permanent,
expounded to admiring pupils the systems of Philosophy
which they had elaborated with slow, and perhaps painful,
effort, in the silence of their chambers. That Socrates,
the founder of all Greek Philosophy, spent very little
time in retirement and solitude, and the larger portion
of his waking hours in the portico, in the gymnasium,
conversing with artists, men of science, rhetoricians, and
practising what he called mental obstetrics, is an histori-
cal fact. But was not Aristotle a pupil of Plato's ; and
in turn did he not instruct pupils at the Lyceum, and
form the mind of Alexander? Speaking of the four
great Athenian schools, Professor Capes, of Oxford,
says : " One of the first needs in each case was a sort
of authorised version of their philosophic creed ; but the
written word was not enough ; the writings of their
founder, canonical as they might be, could not content
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 81
them ; they must have a Hving voice to expand and
ilhistrate the truth, to stimulate by the contagious in-
fluence of strong conviction, and meet objections from
all quarters "} And although Epicurus v^^as the least
popular teacher in Athens, so much so that he v^as com-
pletely ignored by the heads of the Colleges when they
recommended their pupils to attend the lectures of the
other professors indiscriminately, yet that he taught a
considerable number is evidenced by his will, in which
he says: "I beg all who take their principles from me
to do their best as a solemn trust to help Amynomachus
and Timocrates (his executors) to maintain the school
buildings in my garden, and their heirs after them, as
also those who may be appointed to replace my own
successors ".
And perhaps it bears out the analogy which we
instituted between Greece and Germany, when we find
that the founders of the great German systems — the
masters of thought, whose principles succeeding genera-
tions have been solely occupied in developing, spent half
their lives in thinking, and the other half in communi-
cating their thoughts to their pupils and to each other.
But there is another and very important reason why
the German Universities might usurp the functions of
Academies and Universities in other lands. It is that
secondary education in Germany appears to be totally
different from what we call Intermediate Education in
these countries — and still more different from the corre-
sponding grade of education in France. There are two
kinds of High Schools in Germany — the practical schools
(Bealschulen) and the gymnasia {gymnasien) ; and the
curriculum in these embraces professional and scientific
studies and literature to an extent that is unheard of in
these countries, except in Universities. For though
there appears to be a distinction between ■practical schools
and gymnasia in Germany to this extent, that in the
' University Life in Ancient Athens, by W. W. Capes, Chapter
II.
6
82 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
former, scientific pursuits are more encouraged, and in
the latter, literary, it is a distinction that gradually
shades off, until the only remaining difference is, that
the pupils of the gymnasia, after completing their course,
generally move on to the University, and the pupils
of the x>'''^(^^'^(^^^ schools enter on that career in life
for which they find themselves best adapted. But
under the head of literary and scientific studies what
usually is the extent of the knowledge that may be
acquired ? The ancient languages, Hebrew, Greek
and Latin. The study of the two latter is compul-
sory ; the study of Hebrew is optional ; but lectures
are given in that language, and every student intending
to embrace Holy Orders makes it his special study. The
leading modern languages are taught — French, English,
Italian, Spanish, French being compulsory. Equally
liberal is the course of studies in the exact sciences ; yet
it is understood and impressed upon the pupils that, no
matter how high their proficiency may be in the dead
or living languages, or what mastery they may have
obtained over the sciences, their intermediate course of
studies is merely preparatory — to what ? To the Univer-
sity course, which is a severe training in abstract reason-
ing, in the critical analysis of the studies through which
they have already passed, and lastly in that synthesis of
all the sciences which is called their philosophy. It is
only, therefore, when the German student enters his
University that he is free to criticise, analyse, compare
the facts or principles he has already learned. Up to
that time he has been acquiring in a submissive manner,
whilst his mind is broadening and deepening, a know-
ledge of the languages, beneath whose intricacies are
enclosed all the treasures left to the world of the ancient
civilisations which grew and throve amongst the Semi-
tic race, and by the ^gean Sea, and on the banks of
Tiber; a knowledge of the sciences, which reveal the
harmony under which all creation is moving in obedience
to laws that are inexorable, and Titanic energies, which
never break their bounds ; but by attraction and repul-
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— I 83
sion, and sometimes with the swiftness of hghtning,
and sometimes with the slowness of centuries maintain
that balance of power which is the beauty and order of
the universe ; a knowledge of the arts which contribute
to man's comfort and enlightenment, and which minister
to his innate sense of the Beautiful, which is but a
reflex of his faith in the Divine. At last he is allowed
to use his knowledge. The studious or acquisitive
powers are set aside, and the creative or rather forma-
tive powers of the intellect are thrown forward. Hence-
forth, no fact in Science or History, no principle in
Metaphysics or Theology, stands alone. The affinity of
languages which, however changed by time, can be
traced to a common stock ; the correlation of the sciences,
by which it is seen that the highest laws of celestial
mechanics in that noblest of all the sciences. As-
tronomy, are the same as those which rule the angles
and hnes of the black-board in the primary school ; the
still more close and intimate union of the arts, which
have all but one great principle underlying them ; still
more, the hnks by which languages, arts and sciences
are bound together, and form, as it were, the highly
ornate vestibules, through which the mind of man,
hushed and reverent, enters the vast temple where in
silence the Godhead is enshrined — here is the grand ob-
ject of study and veneration that lies before the German
student, as with distinctive cap and scarf, and with his
absolutoriwn from the Bealschule, he signs his name, and
selects his studies and professor. Assuredly with such
a course before him, there is ample room for investiga-
tion, the only limit being the examination which comes
at its end. And still more for the professors of whom
especially the cardinals speak. For their work is no
longer the dreary drudgery of teaching the meaning of
accents and particles, and abstract signs, or mnemonic
formulas, and even the more complex mechanism of
enthymemes and sorites — but the more congenial and
less laborious task of initiating vigorous and thirsty
minds into the high philosophies of history and of art,
6 *
84 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and the close affinities of the sciences. Now, either the
professor in the first year of his academical duties writes
out his lectures for his class, and delivers those identical
lectures, year after year, to the different bodies of pupils
who pass beneath him, or, what is far more likely, he
strives, year by year, to keep up with the progress of
science, to masifcer every new principle which has been
established, every new fact which has been ascertained,
and to develop, as far as his own abilities and oppor-
tunities will allow, that science and art, in which he is
interested, by personal conjectures, speculations or ex-
periments. In the former case there is plenty of leisure,
if the will is there, for those studies, which are sup-
posed to belong to Academies in these countries. In the
latter he is stimulated to original research by the
rivalry which exists between Universities and professors
in Germany ; for assuming, as we may, that all have
reached the high levels of knowledge, and have been
initiated into the sacred schools of philosophy, he alone
will stand above his fellows who wrests some secret
from Nature, or throws fresh hght on her mysterious
work, or discovers some new connection between man's
mind, and the marvels it is ever in pain to interpret, or
finally makes the unerring revelations of the Creator less
enigmatical to reverent minds, by proving that the hand-
writing in the Sacred Books is the same as that which
is abroad on the face of Nature, and that the spirit is
brooding over the waters, where we behold as yet but
darkness and chaos.
THE GEEMAN UNIVEESITIES.— II.'
In the last number of the Beoord we pointed out, in
examination of Pere Didon's work, the one soHtary
instance in which his opinions on University training
differ from those of Cardinal Newman and the majority
of English educational experts. In this paper it is our
purpose to show some broader lines of divergence be-
tween our author and Cardinal Newman's contempo-
rary — the well-known Professor of Hebrew in Oxford
University. We single out his evidence from a pile
of literature on this important subject, because he ap-
pears to be by far the ablest exponent of popular and
generally received ideas about the condition of German
religious thought ; and, singularly enough, the Anglican
professor writes of it in tones of despair, and the French
Dominican sees in it nothing alarming or disquieting,
but everything yielding bright hopes and promises for
the future of religion in that country.
Within thirty years two distinct Commissions for the
Universities both of England and Scotland have been
held ; and according to the Reports submitted by these
Commissions to Parliament, enactments have been made
for the better ordering and governing of these State
institutions. The first of these Commissions for Eng-
land was held about the year 18.52 ; and a vast mass
of evidence was accumulated from various and im-
portant sources. A Report was duly drawn up and
presented to Government, containing a great deal of
thought, and an immense variety of suggestions from
* Irish Ecclesiastical Record, July, 1886.
85
86 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
those whom pubhc and University opinion marked as
leading men in their own departments, and best quahfied
by experience and iutelhgence to notice defects in Uni-
versity organisation, and suggest the remedies to be
appHed.
Amongst these experts Dr. Pusey was probably the
one to whose opinions most deference was paid, partly
owing to his personal eminence, but principally from
his wide acquaintance with the history of Universities,
both in his own country and on the Continent of Europe.
His evidence, however, brought him into a sharp con-
troversy with Professor Vaughan, the main issue being
— the advisability of substituting, as far as possible,
tutorial or catechetical teaching for the professorial,
which partly obtained at Oxford, and was almost uni-
versal in Scotland and Germany. By the professorial
system Dr. Pusey meant, " that in which the professor
is himself in fact the living book, and imparts know-
ledge, original and instructive, but still wholly from
without, to the mind of his pupil ". By the tutorial
system is meant, " that by which the mind of the young
man is brought into direct contact with the mind of his
instructor, intellectually by the catechetical foiTQ of im-
parting knowledge, wherein the mind of the young man,
having been previously employed upon some solid text-
book, has its thoughts corrected, expanded, developed,
enlarged by one of raaturer mind and thought, who also
brings to bear on the subject knowledge and reflection
which the pupil cannot be supposed to have ", In other
words, the professorial is the system of lectures orally
delivered, whilst the students take notes, and the tutorial
is the system of question and answer. The whole thesis
of Dr. Pusey, as formulated by Professor Vaughan, and
admitted with some very important modifications by his
opponent, is summed up in five propositions, as follows : —
1st — Professorial lectures do not communicate know-
ledge well.
2nd — Professorial lectures do not give a discipline to
the faculties.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 87
3rd — Professors do not aid the advancement of
truth,
4th — Theological professors are the causes of heresy
and scepticism.
5th — Professors are the causes of immorality in the
Universities to which they are attached.^
With one of these only have we to deal, because, in
the attempt to maintain it, Dr. Pusey largely relies on
his knowledge and experience of the German Universi-
ties, and his evidence is almost in direct opposition to
that of Pere Didon. It is the fourth proposition, that
"Theological professors are the causes of heresy and
scepticism ". In support of this. Dr. Pusey offers many
examples to show that in Germany the Professors of
Divinity have taught and produced Rationalistic theology.
There cannot be a doubt that Dr. Pusey was very well
quahfied to write upon such a subject. He had given to
the study of it a great part of the best years of his life. In
1827, nearly half a century before the Cominission was
held which elicited the evidence to which we have re-
ferred, he had published a work entitled. An Enquiry
into the Causes of German Rationalism, a fair liberal in-
quisition into the state of religion in Germany, made
by a pious and patient mind, which went beneath the
surface into the depths of those mystic philosophies from
which he thought Rationalism had taken its rise, and
which was able to distinguish what was good and hope-
ful from what was evil and pernicious in those trans-
cendental theories which had taken such hold of the
German mind. And whatever other value attaches to
his evidence, it has at least the merit of consistency.
His ideas in 1827 do not materially differ from those of
18.53, and they are the ideas that have gone abroad and
filled the public mind for half a century, until religiously-
minded people, when speaking of Germany, are always
• Dr. Pusey's .statement is very different from this. He says,
" Negatively, tlie professorial system is wholly destitute of any
moral training ".
88 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
tempted to apply the Scriptural question: "Can any
good come out of Nazareth ? "
Dr. Pusey takes it as proved, then, that Rationalism
has taken a firm hold of the mind of Germany ; and
although in 1827 he concluded his inquiry with a hope
that the nation would return to a belief in Eevelation,
and its central doctrine of the Incarnation, he is forced
to admit in 1854 that his hopes have not been realised.
"It is true," he says, "that I have been disappointed.
I watched with many a heart-ache over the struggles of
the faith in Germany, and came to see how hard a
thing it is for the intellectual mind of a country, which
has once broken away from the faith, to be again won
to it in its integrity." But if his hopes are disappointed,
his opinions are unchanged as to the causes which have
led up to such a sad condition of things. They are
three : The traditional orthodoxy (1) which, transferred
as to its objects from the ancient Church to the doc-
trines of Luther, maintained a rigid conservatism, with-
out history, philology, or Biblical criticism to sustain it.
This gradually led to a system of Pietism (2), which
furnished a " well-prepared soil for the seeds of unbelief,
under whatever immediate circumstances it might be
planted ". The sowers came, not, let it be remembered,
from Germany, but from England. Rationalism was
not the product of German soil. Nay, at the very time
that the German Universities were seats of orthodoxy,
so far as the great mysteries of the Christian faith were
concerned, and the German households were pietistic
and puritanical to a degree never reached in England,
this latter country was the home of a school of Deistic
philosophers (3), whose influence on the cultured minds
of Germany was pernicious in the extreme. It was an
age of metaphysical theories. From the highest sum-
mits of Catholic thought down to the dismalest abysses
of materialism, every shade of religious or psychological
thought was represented. But by far the most potent,
dissolving factor was that English Deism, of which
Blount, Chubb, Collins, Lord Herbert of Cherbury,
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 89
Hobbes, Morgan, Tindal, Toland, were, if not the
originators,^ at least the abettors ; which was after-
wards so successfully developed by the Encyclopas-
dists of France ; and cloaked in light sarcasm, or
panoplied in weighty argument, was introduced into
the Universities of Germany, and fostered there into
that natural religion which ushered in the bald atheism
of our century. Yet Deism, though it took its rise
in England, never got a firm foothold there. Why?
Nowhere was scepticism so audacious. Compared with
the timidity of the Scottish and German schools, the
English was as positive and aggressive as the French.
The disciples of Locke, who, like those of Descartes,
pushed his theories to extremes from which he would
have shrunk, either flatly denied that anything was
immortal or immaterial, thus shadowing forth the ideas
with which we are now so familiar, or preached a false
spiritualism, which, directed in safer and narrower chan-
nels, became the basis of the moral theories of the
Scottish school. But Deism never took root in Eng-
land, Dr. Pusey says, because of the independence of the
English intellect, particularly in the Universities, where
schools of philosophy formed on the teachings of indi-
viduals never existed. He might, perhaps, have added,
that there never has been much taste for such subjects
in England — that the practical English mind is abso-
lutely opposed to metaphysical speculations of any kind
— that not only has there never been a school of philo-
sophy in England, but even very few thinkers who could
be ranked as great philosophers ; and with regard to the
Universities, their faith, such as it is, has been preserved
not by its absolute firmness, established by deep, pro-
tracted and enlightened study, but by the very indiffer-
ence to metaphysical speculations, which, if sometimes
sublime in reach, and sweep, and magnitude, are not
always safe in their subtleties. Deism, then, took
no root in England, because the vast masses of the
1 Vide Kahnis' History of German Protestantism, p. 32.
90 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTUEES
population neither knew nor cared for such things ; and
the lordhngs of the two Universities thought more of
the conflicts between town and gown, than of the dis-
putes between the NominaHsts and the Eeahsts. And
if Deism, taking its rise in England, had its reign in
Germany, we must not forget that religious and meta-
physical ideas were always subjects of supreme interest
for the German people ; and that there were twenty
Universities in Germany, thronged with students, poor,
hke those of Scotland, and cultivating science tenui
avend, but restless, speculative, inquiring, piling Pelion
upon Ossa to enter the homes of the immortals. But
we are anticipating. Deism, sprung from Orthodoxism
and Pietism, and introduced from England, had its
reign in Germany, because of the professorial system in
the Universities.
" Now, long before the times of Rationalism, the pro-
fessorial system in Germany had exercised a power,
enslaving the intellect. We are accustomed to think
of the Germans as powerful, original thinkers. I my-
self respect and love the Germans. Yet intellectual
writers of their own, Lessing and Herder, upbraided
them with their iniitativeness. It often showed itself
in a strange submission to lawlessness of mind. We
are of the same stock. Yet the English mind has been
independent ; the German has been imitative. We
have had no schools ; among the Germans from the
E-eformation downwards, there have been successive
schools. These schools existed in Philosophy, as well
as Theology. Englishmen have been proud of Locke,
but Locke left no school. Wolf, Kant, Fichte, ScheUing,
Hegel, exercised by turns an almost undisputed sway.
Everything for a time became Wolfian, Kantian, Hegel-
ian. Theology, as well as Philosophy, became Wolfian.
Sermons or catechisms bore the stamp of Wolfian
Philosophy. I spoke, not of the value of that Philo-
sophy, but of its transient autocracy. Why had it so
extensive and absolute a sway, when yet, after a while,
it was to resign its sceptre to another monarch over the
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 91
German intellect, as absolute and as transient? Sys-
tems of philosophy were like fashions of dress ; first
absolute, then obsolete. Like Jonah's gourd, ' the son
of a night, perished in a night'."
Is it not the irony of history, after all we have been
listening to during all these years about Papal autocracy
centring in itself not only supreme authority that must
be obeyed, but supreme intelligence, which demands the
fullest submission of the intellect, that an English Pro-
testant should be found to complain that in Germany,
the home of Protestantism, there has been such slavish
subjection to individuals — such indiscriminate adhesion
to fashions of thought that existed, but to pass away ?
But if these bold Scriptural criticisms and consequent
weakening of faith belonged only to the Universities,
and never spread amongst the people, whose pastors
clung tenaciously to ancient orthodoxies, it cannot be
true that Eationalism obtained a firm foothold in Ger-
many. And if it be true that the Universities showed
such slavish submission to the professors whose theories
were dominant in the schools, a simple remedy might
have been found, — the appointment of orthodox profes-
sors, whose righteous interpretations of Scripture, and
such dogmas as Protestantism maintains, would be as
blindly followed as the teachings of those who tried
bolder flights in those speculations of which the Pro-
testant faith does not wholly disapprove. In truth,
Protestantism was put upon its trial in Germany and
found wanting ; and the professors were not entirely to
blame. The substitution of Luther for the Vicar of
Christ, of the Bible for a living authority, of successive
philosophers and their tenets for those who went before
them, reduced Christian dogma to such a minimum in
Germany, that the educated classes were forced to be
sceptical ; and it is to the honour of that country that
it has not completely drifted away from supernatural
faith of every kind, when we consider how relentlessly
the German mind pursues a course of reasoning, and
does not shrink from its conclusions, at least specula-
92 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
tively, when it finds them. Rigid Lutheran orthodoxy,
which commenced with the subversion of the cardinal
principles of Christianity, was itself put on trial ; and
the Scriptures, to which the Protestant mind has always
attached a kind of talismanic effect upon the soul, were
brought under the severe tests of Science, without an
external authority to safeguard them by wholesome
interpretations of their meanings and mysteries. What
can be thought of a religion that, as Dr. Pusey says,
fell to pieces before criticism ? Wolf made certain
speculations about Homer. " This introduced two
wrong principles — the disregard of traditional evidence,
and the theory that a minute verbal criticism could
suffice to dissect works, which had descended to us as
wholes, into various compound parts." The criticism
on Homer introduced criticism on the Old Testament,
and Protestantism collapsed.
Whilst, however, strongly maintaining the position he
had assumed, Dr. Pusey makes a singular admission,
which reflects a kind of quaHfied praise on the professors
and philosophers of Germany, and at least attributes to
them the singular merit of having preserved to their
country some broad beliefs and general reverence for
religion, at a time when the other countries of Europe
were rapidly passing from timid scepticism into aggres-
sive infidelit3^ " Professor Vaughan says of my former
work : ' The transcendental professors, by demohshing
the low popular philosophy to which England had given
birth in earnest error, and which France soon cultivated
in a spirit of satire and corrupt mockery, were then
thought to have at least shown, on its promulgation,
the necessity of faith, and to have assisted directly to
restore the sway of those fundamental truths of con-
science, which the mere understanding could never
demonstrate '. I think the same now. Of Kant's
philosophy I have lately said, ' it was on its positive
side a gain, in that it awoke the conscience, and ex-
posed the shallowness of a system more hopelessly
irreligious and self-satisfied. But, on its negative side.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 93
it strengthened Eiationalism, and gave it its definite
form.' ' The Kantian avrovo/xia of reason,' says Twisten,
' left room for the Deity, but not for a Revelation, in
the sense of the Christian believer.' " ^
Looking back now, through the perspective of history,
at these systems of philosophical thought which, con-
sidering their ephemeral effect on contemporary religious
beliefs, and the rapid pace at which modern ideas are
travelling, seem to belong to a far remote period, we
think there are very few leaders of Christian thought,
in our own age, who will not acquit Germany of the
sad reproach of having been mother and mistress of
all modern infidelity. We have Dr. Pusey's admission
that that country was saved from blank atheism by the
action of its philosophers. We admit that it lapsed
into temporary Rationalism through the action of its
Scriptural professors. There has been a singular con-
fusion of thought about the teachings and doctrinal
consequences of the Transcendental philosophers on
the one hand, and the Bibhcal expositors on the other,
in Germany. It has been generally supposed that their
teachings about Christianity were identical, or that their
systems so dovetailed into each other, that the rejection
of Revelation, which was openly professed by Biblical
scholars, was the inevitable outcome of the metaphysical
theories of the Transcendentalists. But their systems of
thought, the objects they proposed to themselves, and
' Compare with this the following paragraph which appears in an
article on " George Eliot," written by Lord Acton in the Nineteenth.
Century for March, 1885. " For some years her mind travelled in
search of rest, and like most students of German thought before the
middle of the century she paid a passing tribute to Pantheism.
But from Jonathan Edwards to Spinoza she went over at one step.
The abrupt transition may be accounted for by the probable action
of Kant, who had not then become a buttress of ('liristianitij. Out
of ten Englishmen, if there were ten, who read him in 1841, nine
got no farther than the Crilique aj Pure. Reason^ and knew him
as the dreaded assailant of popular evidences. When George Eliot
stood before his statue at Berlin, she was seized with a burst of
gi'atitude, hut she hardly became familiar with his latest works."
94 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the deductions at which they arrived, are as distinct
as the philosophical teachings of Mill or Hamilton, and
the Scriptural exegesis that is taught in a Protestant
seminary. The work of the former was positive; of
the latter, consciously or unconsciously, negative, and,
if you will, destructive. The philosophers aimed at
constructing a philosophy of Christianity. Utterly dis-
satisfied with Christian doctrine, as it was taught in
their churches, and unwilling to believe that the crude
and uncouth form, in which its sublimest doctrines
were submitted to their congregations by the pastors
and theologians of the Lutheran Church, was the only
presentation that could be made of a religion which,
in the sublimity of its origin, and the perfect adaptation
of its moral code to the wants of men, was manifestly
Divine ; and not being able to realise the idea of a living
Church, with a voice that interpreted unerringly the
Revelation of God to the world, they attempted to
create a system of philosophy, founded on pure reason,
which eventually would embrace the fundamental doc-
trines of Christianity. A similar attempt was made by
Coleridge in England. In a work, on which he intended
his fame should rest, but which he did not live to per-
fect, he tried to prove that Christianity was not only
not opposed to reason, but was its highest embodiment
from a doctrinal and ethical point of view. His work,
like that of the German philosophers, has come to
naught — has failed as utterly as that of the Gnostics
in the early days of Christianity. One after another,
the greatest German thinkers developed their ideas as
to the meaning of the universe and the destiny of the
human soul, only to find that they were moving in a
circle in the end. But let it be said that each com-
menced with a perfect faith in the existence of God and
of the soul, and the absolute necessity of religion. And
if, by the exercise of pure reason, they did not reach
these high truths which Eternal Wisdom alone could
reveal, at least it must be said that the spirit in which
they approached the consideration of such sacred prob-
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 95
lems was in no wise a spirit of hostility to Christianity,
and that the conclusions at which they arrived may
have fallen far short of our perfect Eevelation, but did
not absolutely reject or deny it. We might safely put
into their mouths the plaints of the ancient philosophers
in the first circle of the Inferno : —
Per tai difetti, non pei- altro rio,
Semo perduti, e sol di tanto offesi
Che senza speme vivemo in disio.
Nor would it be altogether unworthy of a Christian to
feel as the great poet felt : —
Gran duol mi prese al cuor, quando lo'ntesi :
Perocche gente di molto valore
Conobbi, che'n quel Limbo eran sospesi.
The commentators, on the other hand, whilst coquet-
ting with philosophy, and professing themselves disciples
of one or other master or system, directed all their
attention to the critical examination of the Sacred
Books. Philology was the science they brought to the
study of Eevelation, and, finally, into conflict with it,
just as geology, in later times, and later still, biology,
have been considered its antagonists. Nothing narrows
the human mind so much as exclusive devotion to one
science. Germany became hypercritical ; and, as usual,
German savants, compressing their ideas within the
limits of one faculty, grew cramped and illiberal in the
pursuit of knowledge. " That sublime and devouring
curiosity," man's first passion — the weakness on which
the fatal temptation fell — even still leads men beyond
their depth. And so, by the morbid development of
the critical faculty, the Germans fell into this fatal, but,
we are sure, transient error. " They somehow lost
faith in the Bible as a supernatural product ; and it
had become to them more a great and transcendent
classic, than a living Revelation." And there is one
fact of pregnant meaning which Dr. Pusey has not
noticed, and which has had a most important bear-
ing on the attitude of reverence which Germany has
96 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
always held towards religion. In Biblical criticisms,
in controversies on religious dogmas, in all the heat
and passion of polemical strife, there has ever been,
with a few latter-day notorious exceptions, a total
absence of that contempt and savage satire which the
French and English philosophers and scientists have
levelled against religion. Of the exalted tone which the
German philosophers assumed, in dealing w^ith religious
mysteries, we have already spoken. It must be also
admitted that the German expositors set about the work
of studying and interpreting the Sacred Books, not with
an a priori belief in their inherent inconsistencies, but
with a fully formed and acknowledged faith that their
critical and conscientious searchings into the meaning
of Holy AVrit would result in decided advantages to the
cause of religion and truth. It was not with them, as
with the French and English sceptics — a crusade against
religion and against God. That contemptuous tone,
with which modern materialists put completely out of
the domain of logic and common sense metaphysical
questions of any kind, as only fit for fetish worshippers,
is conspicuously absent in philosophical or exegetical
works produced by Germans. These works were, for
the most part, written as a kind of unconscious protest
against the Protestant doctrine that the Bible was the
sole rule of faith ; and the analyses of texts and their
meanings are what logicians would expect from too
acute and too learned reasoning, unassisted by authori-
tative interpretation, and losing the spirit of the Divine
Word in too critical an examination of the letter. But
the handhng of the Inspired Text was never irreverent.
When Lessing pubhshed the famous Wolfeyihilttel
Fragments, which had passed into his hands from the
daughter of Eeimarus, their author, a storm of indigna-
tion against him arose throughout Germany. He ex-
plained : —
" What has the Christian to do with the hypotheses,
explanations and evidences of the theologian ? To him
the Christianity he feels to be so true, and wherein he
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 97
feels himself so happy, is there once for all. If the
palsied individual experiences the beneficent shock of
the electric spark, what matters to him whether Nollet
or Franklin, or neither, be right ? In short, the letter
is not the spirit, and the Bible is not religion. Con-
sequently, charges against the letter and the Bible do
not also imply charges against the spirit and religion."
A very inconsequential conclusion, and, from a Catho-
lic standpoint, a heretical and condemnable opinion,
inasmuch as it altogether denies the dogmatic factor in
religion ; but who shall say it is a breach of Protestant
orthodoxy? Such opinions are held to-day, without
ban of Church or clamour of clergy, amongst the most
highly favoured Protestant divines, who do not always
express their opinions with the reverence of Lessing.
And Bahrdt, one of the first of the representatives of
Popular Eationalism in Germany, whilst unhappily re-
jecting the whole doctrine of inan's redemption, can yet
write of our Divine Saviour : —
" O, Thou great Godhke Soul! no mortal can name
Thy name without bending the knee ; and in reverence
and admiration, feeling Thy unapproachable greatness !
AVhere is the people amongst whom a man of this stamp
has ever been born *? How I envy you, ye descendants
of Israel ! Alas ! that you do not feel the pride which we
who call ourselves Christians, feel, on account of One so
incomparable being sprung from your race ! That soul
is most depraved that knows Jesus and does not love
Him!"^
And what a contrast between that " progenies vipera-
rum," the French Encyclopaedists, and the German
Transcendental philosophers ! Voltaire's sneering ad-
mission, " Si Dieu n'existait pas, il faudrait I'inventer,"
and the more savage candour of " Ecrasez I'infame " ;
Kousseau, advocating a return to primitive barbarism ;
Diderot's profane apologue to the Deity, " Of Thee,
Supreme Being, I demand nothing"; the sensual
' Bahrdt, Moralische Religion, vol. i., p. 71.
7
98 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
D'Alenibert, excusing the ambiguity of the Encyclo-
pedie, " Time will make people distinguish what we
have in our minds from what we have said " ; and, on
the other hand, Leibnitz, straining his mighty know-
ledge of mathematics, and declaring that, behind
the rules of geometry and physics, he discerned the
very nature and attributes of God, and that the
source of all philosophy lay for him, not in his know-
ledge of things, but in the Divine attributes ; Hegel,
developing his mysterious philosophy of the spirit, until
he finds that the apogee of all moral sentiment is Chris-
tianity or absolute religion ; Kant, called by his admirers
"the Christian philosopher of his century," drawing a
most reverent picture of our Blessed Saviour, and de-
claring, even in his earliest works, that the Bible is, in
a certain and very high sense, a Revelation ; Bichter,
in his Di\ane fancies, as of the soul that went wandering
through the spheres, and that terrible " Dream," which,
it is said, did more to preserve men's faith in God in
Germany than the arguments of its countless theolo-
gians — all these Transcendentalists have been, in the
end, decided, if unconscious, allies of Christian faith in
Germany, whose example and influence were all the
more powerful, because they had lost themselves in the
mazes of free-thought, and reached such light and truth
as were vouchsafed them, not by the quick flight of
faith, but by the laborious and circuitous route of patient
investigation, and the steady advance from principle to
principle, guided by the slender thread of inductive
reasoning, and buoyed by the consciousness that, some-
how or other, the God of Truth would not fail them in
the end. They set out on their toilsome journey, de-
clining the guidance of religion, only to find her majestic
figure before them at the end. We might reverse the
saying of Cicero about the Boman augurs, and say of
them: " Verbis (inscii) tollunt, re ponunt Deos ".
On what other theory can we explain the fact that
to-day Positivist and Materialistic opinions have no fol-
lowers in Germany ? That, although philosophy holds
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 99
as high a place in public esteem, and is considered quite
as essential a branch of education as it was in the days
of Kant or Hegel, infidelity is making no headway
amongst any class in Germany ? That reverence for
the illustrious dead, and even philosophic faith in the
stupendous systems that were founded by them, are not
considered at all incompatible with the fullest adhesion to
what Protestants call the fundamental truths of Christi-
anity? That, with the exception of four or five,^ not a
single German professor has signed the broad schedules of
scientific unbelief ? And that the most trusted leaders of
German scientific thought have neither abandoned meta-
physical and rehgious science for the more concrete
studies of the museum and laboratory, nor believed that
the mighty questions of the soul and its destinies can
be resolved into problems which the chemist can solve,
nor even sought to reconcile the established teachings
of religion with the conjectural hypotheses of physical
science; but, with decided predilections for the for-
mer, have steadily aimed to keep the latter in its place
as "the younger child" — babbling, hesitating, wilful,
dreamy, and erratic, if not controlled by the calm wis-
dom, and discipline, and experience of her sister, who,
with the halo of sixty centuries around her, has yet the
freshness of youth, because of her promise of immor-
tality ? And if for a time Kationalism did take a hold
of the German mind, its reign was transient and tem-
porary. The very school which originated it, that of
Tilbingen, was the very first to destroy it.
But all this time we are forgetting Pore Didon, whose
testimony, on these very disputed questions, is eminently
interesting.
He first, then, declares that although the professorial
system still obtains in Germany its influence in deter-
mining religious opinion by creating schools of thought
has passed away.
" The era of masters is over. None can now be said
^ BLichuor, Vogt, Moloschott, Fischer, Hauckol.
n *
100 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
to have opened a new school ; none, as in the days of
Kant, of Wolf, of Hegel, of Fichte, or of Schelling,
exercise sway over a whole generation."
The professorial system, therefore, for full fifty years
(Schelling died in 1854) has not had that dominant and
pernicious influence which has been ascribed to it.
But is there still philosophical thought in Germany ?
Yes:—
" And it is still dominated, and its bearings directed
by three great geniuses — Spinoza, Leibnitz and Kant.
Pantheistic tendencies which seek results at all costs,
and delight in erecting a system, belong to Spinoza.
The prevalence of vast erudition and a conciliating
eclecticism are inspired by Leibnitz. As for psychological
and critical problems, they originated with Kant, whose
mighty works ponderously weigh upon the intellects
which they divide into two contrary schools — the ideal-
ists, who, scorning experience, consider, like Hegel, their
superb theories the absolute measure of things — the
reahsts, who, subordinating the subjective to the objec-
tive, borrow from reality the rule of their speculations.
I fancy that to-day the University youth, which to-
morrow will form the ruling opinion of this country,
inclines to realism, to a certain unconscious pantheism,
from which German minds scarcely ever liberate them-
selves ; and above all to a certain eclecticism, based upon
serious erudition."
One unacquainted with the strange paradoxes which
are to be met at every step in the history of this power-
ful nation would now rush confidently to the conclusion
that with such determined prochvities to realism, the
whole bent of modern German thought would be directed
in our age to the positivism of Comte, or the blank
materialism of Blichner and Haeckel. Not at all.
"These misguided intellects (Biichner, Vogt, Mole-
schott, Fischer) have succeeded less in leading German
youth than in providing learned French materialists^
' For example, Ernest Renan, who was fond of tracing that esprit
critique which led him into infidelity to the writings of Ewald and
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— II 101
with weapons at a time when it was fashionable with us
to beheve in the infaUibility of German science. In
high University chairs materialist or positive doctrines
are left mirepresented. The rash speculations of
thought are not nowadays viewed with high favour :
philosophical tradition is, however, faithfully preserved."
But at least this philosophical tradition must be un-
favourable to religious science ? No.
" Religious science holds a distinguished place in
most Universities, not only because it occupies the
leading place in programmes, hut also, and above all, be-
cause binder the influence of esteemed and often famous
teachers, it rallies a youth numerous and ardent. There
are 4,000 theological students in Germany, scattered
among the twenty-two Universities of the Empire, who
in the mass of students form the most serious and dili-
gent group."
This statement, thus made by the most recent author-
ity on the subject, is the direct negative, both as to
causes and effects, of the ideas generally entertained on
this subject.
Gesenins, although his contemporary at St. Sulpice is of opinion
that he was a free-thinker long before he had acquired a knowledge
of German or Hebrew. " Or, a cette epoque (en recevant la ton-
sure) il ne savait ni I'hebreu, ni I'allemand ; il n'avait traverse ni
Gesenius, ni Ewald, ni I'exegese allemande ; sa critique historique
etait a naitre." — M. lienan, hier et aujourd'hui, par M. L'Abbe
Cognat.
THE GEEMAN UNIVEKSITIES.— III.^
We closed the last paper on this subject in the
Becord'^ by the statement, that the German people had
maintained the main principles of Christian tradition
and belief against all adverse influences. It must have
occurred to any one, particularly to a French priest, who
had seen very serious and terrible consequences in his
own land arising from much simpler and less potent
causes, that there must be something in the genius of
this nation that thus preserved faith and a passion for
theological science amongst them. Our author, from a
careful study of the German people, soon discovered a
curious trait in their character, which we have not seen
attributed to any other race. He considers the Germans
to be what he calls a bicephalic nation — thinking, dream-
ing, speculating with one mind, but always acting with
another. It is the combination of pure reason and
practical reason on which Kant built up his mighty
philosophy ; and the principles which he applied to re-
ligion, as deduced from the operations of pure reason on
the one hand, and practical reason on the other, are the
same principles with which educated German thinkers
theorise and speculate, and then abandon in real life
those creations of fancy for the more positive wisdom
of practical good sense. For just as Kant in his Critique
of Pure Reason taught nothing of absolute reality, but a
purely ideal speculative world, and in his later treatises
laid down laws subordinating man's mind and conscience
to God, and the Divine and natural laws, so the ordinary
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Record, August, 1886.
"" Ibid., July, 1886, p. 631.
102
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 103
German loves to wander in the broad fields of metaphysi-
cal thought, creating, conjecturing and poetising ; but in
everyday life he is as shrewd and practical a thinker as
the ancient Greek or the modern American. This dual-
ism of the mind enters into every department of thought
and life. It is the prevailing national idiosyncrasy in
education, religion and political science ; and the con-
trast between ancient and well-preserved tradition, and
the fullest acknowledgment and acceptance of new and
everchanging ideas and systems is very striking. Up
here in the cloudland is some mediceval city, grey and
battlemented, the ivy wreathed around its fortifications
long since disused, and stretching its tendrils across the
mouths of cannon long since antiquated and useless ;
and strolling through its streets in undress cap and jacket
are dreamy, metaphysical Teutons, pondering weighty
mysteries of time and space, and, in the contemplation
of the infinitude around and above them, seemingly ob-
livious of the petty concerns that agitate the multitude
beneath them in the white villages and towns that dot
the landscape from the Weser to the Rhine. Below in
the valley is a row of buildings, granite-hewn, square-cut,
uniform and stern, and the quadrangles are bristling
with black guns, the latest invention of German military
science ; and through the barrack squares march grim
bands of warriors, as grey and stiff as the granite of the
walls, and many of them a few months ago were, and
many a few months hence will be, gay, rollicking students,
talking high science over pipe and glass away up in the
cloudland. It is a type of the education — military and
academical— through which the Fatherland insists that
all its children shall pass, and of the liberty and disciphne
which prevail side by side in all State institutions.
Absolute freedom in speculation — obedience as absolute
as that of a Carthusian in practical life ; toleration
of the wildest vagaries in academical halls — unceasing
vigilance over act or word that might be inimical to the
Fatherland; freedom as glorious as that of Rousseau's
barbarian in the University, discipline as unbending as
104 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
that of Sparta's soldiers in the barrack — such is life in
Germany to the young. Hence there is no restriction
on books, or programmes, or studies. Every field of
thought is opened up to the student, and he is en-
couraged to explore it. Every invention of modern
science is put before him to stimulate his ambition to
improve it, and — make it obsolete. Whatever the genius
of other lands has effected he is at perfect liberty to
study and turn to practical uses. But never is his cold
sluggish blood stirred into enthusiasm by victories of
science achieved by other nations ; nor will his home
and college prejudices yield for a moment to admiration
of talents which, with sublime pride and exclusiveness,
he believes to have been specially created for the benefit
of his race. If French scientific class-books are care-
fully noted and studied in Germany no one is very much
the wiser. The French, with the interest and curiosity
pecuhar to their race, study the habits of the English
and Germans, and candidly acknowledge their virtues
and excellences whilst politely laughing at their eccen-
tricities. But no German is ever troubled about his
neighbours, except to draw maps of their fortresses and
sketches of their ironclads. No De Stael or Didon will
ever come from the German land. Wrapt in sublime
security, which in any other nation would be sublime
conceit, they believe that the world was made for the
Fatherland. Never a whisper of admiration passes
German lips for Milton, or Dante, or Eacine — for
Locke, or Descartes, or Mill. Goethe and Schiller are
the greatest poets that have yet appeared on this planet ;
and Kant and Spinoza are the intellectual giants of the
modern world, as Plato and Aristotle were in times of
old. The same national peculiarity is observable in the
religious beliefs of the people. " Protesting strongly
and repeatedly against authoritative teaching, they are
the slaves of synods and consistories." In theory, the
free-thinkers of the world, they are really as dogmatic
and exclusive as Puritans. For ever soaring in the high
empyrean of abstract thought, they never lose touch of
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 105
the solid earth. And, on the other hand, however
logical in thought and accurate in scholarship they
may be, they cannot descend into the abysses of that
realism where less dreamy and imaginative races fall
and abide. The strong tendency to idealism, which is
such a peculiar characteristic of the people, saves them
from lapsing into abject error. It was a noticeable
feature in their philosophers ; and even the masses of
the people are so imbued with it, that it seems a kind
of impossibility that they should ever adopt that crude,
hard materialism which comes so easy to the genius of
other nations. The Frenchman concentrates all thought
and feeling within one faculty — the reason, and the
senses as its ministers ; and whatever refuses to come
within its domain is instantly rejected. Strangely en-
thusiastic and impulsive, he has not a particle of imagina-
tion. His poetry is little more than rhymed prose — his
fiction is never successful until it becomes realistic and
morbid. Two and two make four ; therefore, he argues,
there is no God. Here is the surgeon's scalpel— find
the soul if it exists. But the faculties of the German
mind are so well balanced that there is a perpetual
protest between the two extremes of thought — excessive
fancy and excessive logic — idealism and materialism,
and the mind is kept in that happy mean where each
faculty has its full sweep of exercise without the peril
of losing itself in the abysses above, or the darker
abysses of vulgar materialism beneath. Hence, the
free-thought of Germany is ridiculed by the more ro-
bust atheism of other countries as yielding and puerile.
" Quand un Allemand," says Renan, " se vante d'etre
impie, il ne faut jamais le croire sur parole. L'AUemand
n'est pas capable d'etre irreligieux. La religion, c'est
a dire, I'aspiration du monde ideal, est le fond meme da
sa nature. Quand il veut etre athee, il Test devotement,
et avec une sorte d'onction." ^
This taste for metaphysical studies is the safety valve
^ Etudes d'histoire religieuse, p. 417.
106 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
of free-thought in Germany. No nation can long
remain either rationahstic or infidel so long as this
fancy for abstract thought is a national characteristic.
And whatever value may be set by this too prosaic age
on the works of positivists, the lasting verdict of the
world will be given in favour of the authors to whom
great ideas were more important than the greatest facts
or deeds accomplished in the history of our little race.
Nay, even those who spurned metaphysics as a delusion
have been forced either by the want of material machin-
ery, or by the free working of the intellect, into realms
of thought, to which they wished to remain for ever
strangers. Goethe, a sensualist and realist in a moral
and hteraiy sense, could say of Jacobi, that " God
afflicted him with metaphysics as with a thorn in the
flesh". Yet, what is the second part of "Faust," and
the greater portion of the first part, but an admission that
without supernatural elements even that strange jumble
of thought could not, with all the efforts of his own
unquestionable genius, cohere in legitimate dramatic
unity ? Whatever philosophic system, therefore, pre-
vails in the halls of German Universities, the religious
creed of the students is as definite and dogmatic as
Protestantism can permit. It could not be otherwise if
we consider the programmes that are issued by the
Minister of Public Instruction in Germany, and which
are obligatory on teachers and pupils alike. Here is
the programme for High Schools, issued 17th March,
1882 :—
"Keligious instruction shall comprise — 1st, The His-
tory of the Bible, but chiefly of the New Testament.
2nd-, The Catechism, with the Scriptural passages and
traditions which explain it. 3rd, The Ecclesiastical
Year-Book, and complete knowledge of the principal
hymns. 4th, Knowledge of the main facts contained in
the Scriptures, chiefly in the New Testament (reading
of various passages selected from the original text). 5th,
Fundamental points of dogma and morahty. 6th,
Knowledge of the most important dates of the history
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill
107
of the Church, of eminent personages, and of the Hves
of the principal saints."
And in the diploma which each student in the Gym-
nasia receives, when he has passed his final examination,
are found the words : —
" We hereby testify that the pupil of the Catholic —
or Evangehc faith — is efficient in religious knowledge ".
But it is in the Universities that chief prominence
is given to rehgious science, and that it occupies the
foremost place in the activity of trained and matured
intellects.
" The activity of theological science cannot be denied.
Every professor treats at least two different subjects.
And as the smallest faculty of theology does not possess
fewer than six professors, there are thus at least twelve
lectures. At Leipzig, where the faculty of theology
numbered fourteen professors, twenty-five subjects were
being treated in the same half-year. These are the
titles of the various subjects studied during the summer
vacation of 1882 : —
History of the Church.
Epistle to the Hebrews.
Moral Theology.
Epistle of St. James.
Compared Symbolics.
The Psalms.
The Messianic Prophecies.
Epistle to the Romans.
Life and doctrine of Schleir-
macher.
Introduction to the Old Testa-
ment.
System of Practical Theology.
Biblical Theology of the New
Testament.
Messianic prophecies of the Old,
and their fulfilment in the New
Testament.
The Prophet Isaiah.
The idea of the Covenant in the
New Testament.
The minor prophets before the
exile.
Hebrew Poetry.
History of worship among the
Hebrews, and its bearings
upon the criticism of the Pen-
tateuch.
History of Christian archi-
tecture compared with the
requirements of the present
time.
Gospel of St. John.
" Add to this the practical labours accomplished in
the various associations of theological students, and
108 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
some idea may be formed of the prodigious intellectual
movement of which in Germany every faculty of theo-
logy is a centre. The encyclopoedia of religious science
is thus approached from all sides ; and the students
who are excited by an ardent wish for study, live
under the cross fire of the thousand rays of the same
science."
Lastly, in political science in Germany similar effect
of the dualism of the national character are observable.
The most strenuous liberal and democrat in France or
America, whose life is one passionate dream of a uni-
versal brotherhood of nations, "in the parliament of
man — the federation of the world," is not so enthusiastic
as the German student, who is prepared to clasp hands
in cosmopohtan friendship with every other nationaHty.
So say their poets — their philosophers. Yet we know
that they love their mountains and rivers and forests
with a partiality that seems narrow and illiberal, that
the glory of the Fatherland is the ever-present dream
of every German, no matter what his rehgion may be,
and that Germany is a huge barrack where every adult
must pass through the ordeal of a severe and rigid dis-
cipline to form part eventually of a colossal and ir-
resistible force that may crush the French on the one
hand, and the Slav on the other. This is all the more
wonderful, because there is no nation in the world
composed of such heterogeneous elements in origin,
race, and religion.
Though for the most part descended from the Gothic
tribes that swept Europe at the dismemberment of the
Koman Empire, the Germans occupy such a central
position that a large Latin element from the South has
entered into the composition of their nationhood, and the
Slavs from the East and the Tartars from the North
have added their distinctive characteristics to the race.
It is cut up also into principahties and kingdoms as
different in size and configuration as if the poles were
between them. And though the Cathohc and Lutheran
religions predominate, there is a large variety of small
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 109
sects differing from one another on some point of re-
ligion which is only made important by controversy.
Yet, notwithstanding these elements of disruption, the
fact remains that the German Empire is to-day con-
solidated into a whole more concrete and unified than
empires whose people kneel at the same altar, and
whose flag floats over one race claiming the same
origin and birthright. Still more strange is it that
politics, in the sense of differences of opinion in re-
ference to the common welfare, is an unknown science
in Germany. The great central idea of German unity
pervades all classes ; and to that idea everything must
be sacrificed. And the German Universities are un-
doubtedly the places where that dominant idea is en-
gendered and developed. " In closely studying German
youth I soon came to the conclusion that the love of
the mother country, the consciousness of its doctrines,
and the ambition of its future glories have been chiefly
developed in its Universities." This national feehng is
promoted by the patriotic clubs of the Universities, and,
let us add, by the spirit of the professors themselves.
" This lecture," said Fichte during the Napoleonic
invasion, " will be deferred until the issue of the cam-
paign. We shall resume it when our country has re-
covered its liberty or — we shall have fallen dead for the
defence of her freedom."
So far, then, as we can see, in two great departments
of huma,n thought, academical education and pohtical
science, the German Universities exercise the most
wholesome influences ; and even in religious science
the spirit of these valuable institutions is a main sup-
port of Christianity. What conclusions, therefore, shall
we draw, or how shall we apply the practical lessons of
this book of Pere Didon's to our own country '? We
may, perhaps, state that the peculiarities of the Teutonic
and Celtic races are so utterly dissimilar that it would
be impossible to create or maintain a University system
in Ireland after the model which we have studied. We
have neither the traditions that consecrate to the minds
110 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
of German youth the ancient seats of learning in their
land, nor great names to whose memory is attached
that national reverence which is so freely given to
those who have marked some intellectual epoch in the
history of their country, nor governmental patronage
such as that bestowed on Berlin, nor even the universal
homage to learning, which is the sweetest guerdon of
the protracted vigil, and the laborious task of unearthing
dead centuries for their treasures. Neither have we as
yet that peculiar virtue of pursuing knowledge for its
own sake, which is the soul and inspiration of a Uni-
versity. It is in this matter that the book we have
studied is specially valuable. With a firm hand our
Dominican draws a decidedly unfavourable contrast
between his own country and Germany, points out
distinctly the faults of the French educational system,
and suggests a total reconstruction of that system on
German principles, adapted, of course, to French ideas
and temperament. And there is such an affinity be-
tween the French and Irish nations that we may safely
apply all his strictures and suggestions to ourselves.
To understand them, we must take his standpoint, for
it is not too much to say that his own nation and
Germany are half a century ahead of us in this matter
of education ; and with them the whole system is not
feebly tentative as with us, but has been tried by the
fullest tests of time and experience.
The great central idea of the book is that Universities
are the brains of a nation, that whatever excellence has
to be obtained must be obtained through them, and that
any kind of prosperity, intellectual or other, that does
not proceed from them, is hollow and unstable, and
must eventually collapse. A favourite idea in the
Church is, that men of prayer are more powerful agents
for good than men of action ; that the cowled Carthusian
whose earthly vision is bounded by the white wall of his
cell on the one hand, and the white wall of his garden
on the other, has more influence on the Church's des-
tinies than the girded apostle who goes forth in fines
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 111
orbis terrcB. Now, it is the creed of our author that it
is by great ideas a nation is created and strengthened,
and that Universities are the homes of such ideas. He
thinks, therefore, the increase in the number and effici-
ency of Universities a healthy proof of the vitaHty and
energy of a people ; the decline of Universities and the
increase of High Schools for special subjects, a certain sign
of a nation's degeneracy. Yet, he says, this is the universal
tendency of the world at the present time : " The fashion
to-day is professional and High Schools. All nations,
Germany excepted, seem to obey that fashion. Every-
where in England, in America, in Italy, in France, in
Eussia, High Schools are founded and multiplied."
What is the result? "If we observe this intellectual
impulse of contemporary society, we shall soon come to
the conclusion that it will eventually and fatally result
in the breaking up of the vast unity of general know-
ledge ; and that in fostering too energetically the prac-
tical application of science, it will gradually dry up the
inspiration of genius, to which theoretical science alone
can give wings and flight." What he condemns, there-
fore, is the undue and forced exaltation of High Schools
at the expense of Universities. In Germany the former
are never suffered to lose their preparatory character ;
in France they are permitted to encroach too much on
the domain of Universities, with the result that Univer-
sity teaching in France is only the shadow of a great
name, and the High Schools are "hotbeds of irreligion,
positivism and eighteen-year-old philosophers ". These
latter are formed by the undue development of the
critical faculty. The natural powers of the mind re-
quire the following sequence in the course of education :
gradual strengthening of the memory hy filling but not
overburtheyng it with facts or principles — gradual
developmenr of the intellect by the collation of such
facts and the apphcation of such principles, as we sec
in the study of mathematics — finally, the training in
just criticism, when the judgment is matured, and the
memory and intellect combine to help it in forming
112 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
correct ideas and practical principles of action. Now,
in France, this last branch of education is usurped by
the Lycees or public schools, where the young pedant
is instructed to sit in judgment on the universe, like
Browning's diner-out : —
Who wants a doctrine for a chopping-block
To try the edge of his faculty upon,
Prove how much commonsense he'll hack and hew,
In the critical minute 'twixt the soup and fish.
With that prematurely developed critical faculty he
roams through the realms of thought, and nothing is
too high or sacred to escape him. Setting aside rever-
ence of every kind as a kind of exploded superstition,
he flings the full searching light of this wonderful
faculty into every corner and cranny of the universe of
science, flashing it from the inaccessible heights of
heaven to the lowest depths of animal or vegetable
physiology. Whatever escapes this white light, or is
unrevealed to it, is to him non-existent ; and the bud-
ding philosopher through the medium of his language,
which, if useless as a vehicle of high thought or poetry,
is splendidly adapted for the more servile purposes of
satire, annihilates to his own fancy creeds as old as the
world, and hopes that are stronger than death. So it
was with ancient Greece. The philosophers were fol-
lowed by rhetoricians and sophists, who inducted the
youth committed to their charge into all the secrets of
science, yet made eloquence of language and rhetorical
display their highest ambition in the end. But their
appearance marked the decline of Grecian learning.
From that time we date the transference to the Latin
races of the wand of intellectual superiority. And it is
not altogether beyond our own experience to find youth
of our own age who can sing the litany of the kings
and queens of England, and mark the dates of battles
with the mechanical uniformity of a chronometer, deem-
ing themselves qualified to sit in high places, and stare
and wonder at teachings which are too simple or too
sublime for forced and weakened intellects.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 113
For the same reason, our second conclusion shall be,
that the crown of all teaching in a Catholic University
should be the perfect grounding of the students in a
system of mental philosophy, strictly in accordance
with the teachings of the Church, but neither too re-
stricted in its scope nor too ihiberal in its applications.
Theology is justly the queen of sciences to the inmates
of a Catholic Ecclesiastical College. Its place in a Uni-
versity would be justly filled by Philosophy. The whole
course of modern literature, varied and complex as it is,
is for ever touching the fringe of this latter science.
The finest poem of modern times, the "In Memoriam "
of Tennyson, is purely philosophical from beginning to
end ; and if the perfect hope of the Christian's belief
is clearly professed in its splendid prologue, the doubts
and difficulties that beset it are indicated in minor
keys throughout the poem, and are silenced, but do not
entirely vanish, in the " Higher Pantheism ". And
through the brilliant warp and woof of George Eliot's
works, is there not discernible the dark thread of her
negative and melancholy philosophy ? So with science.
Whether looking for a universe of worlds through the
telescope, or through a microscope for a universe of
atoms, the mind of man is for ever tormented by meta-
physical questionings. There is no use in trying to
silence them. Positivism may lay down peremptorily
its dogmas, and warn its disciples to waste no more
time in futile searches after that which can never be
known. But the ceaseless curiosity of the mind cannot
be stilled till the stars are quenched, and the mechanism
of the universe loses its obedience to the Divine Mind
that controls it. To bring vigorous and active intellects
under a mental discipline so perfect, that the chafing
and irritation of such doubts and questionings are
soothed by a science to which the highest intellects
have been consecrated, and which is as perfect and
flawless in its workings as the most scrupulous me-
chanic could desire — this ought to be the ultimate aim
of a University. And for the same reason, the study of
8
114 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
philosophy ought to be deferred to the end of the Uni-
versity course, when the mind is trained to understand
its intricacies, and pass freely from problem to problem,
which would appear to it in a less matured condition
barren and empty formulEe. " Eighteen-year-old " clas-
sical scholars are intelligible; "eighteen-year-old" mathe-
maticians are not forced and unnatural creations ; but
" eighteen-year-old " philosophers imply a deordination
in the process of education which is irrational and absurd.
We hasten from this point to say that it is evident that
in a University this science should be taught in the ver-
nacular, and that its history, as well as its doctrines,
should be made familiar.^ For, after all, it is the his-
tory of human thought. Physical science was practi-
cally unknown up to our own time. What occupied the
minds of men for twenty centuries ? The mighty issues
of the human soul, its capabilities, its destiny. In
porches and gardens under Grecian skies, in halls of
rhetoric in the days of Ambrose and Augustine, in
academies and Universities in mediaeval times, and in
our own days in that great arena of modern thought —
the press — the same vital questions are discussed. The
advocates of free-thought in every shape and in every
age sit under the bust of Plato ; and the statue of
Aristotle is enshrined in Christian schools near that of
the great apostle of intellect, Aquinas. Yet we do not
speak of the former with horror, nay, many of our best
Christian scholars have thought it in no wise heterodox
to quote him. And surely Kantism does not mean un-
utterable things : nor is Spinoza quite a synonym for
Satan.
Thirdly, the professorial system should be maintained
in the most conservative manner in an Irish Univer-
sity, partly, because no other provision can be made by
us for great specialists ; principally, because, under any
1 Not to burthen our pages with quotations, we refer the reader
to Pere Didon's work, page 174, for the progi'amme in the faculty
of philosophy for 1882.
THE GERMAN UNIVERSITIES.— Ill 115
other system, learning shall never become honourable
amongst us. However efficient a tutorial system may
be in preparing youth for professional examinations, it
can never be successful in the higher object of making
them thoroughly educated men. The instrument may
ansvi^er its purpose v^ell, but it never becomes more than
an instrument, to be cast aside when used. It is clear
that reverence for knowledge in the persons of its
possessors can never have for its cause or object those
who use it as a means to an end less noble than itself.
These only command respect for learning who are con-
secrated to its service, and who win worship for their
goddess by their exclusive devotion to her service.
Finally, with all our indebtedness to Pere Didon, we
borrow from him one last idea: "No national life is
possible for a people, if, at the same time, it be not taken
up with the pursuit of some grand ideal ". What ideal
should be put before a University of Irish students who
hold their country's destinies in their hands ? We pass
by pohtical aphorisms too menacing, too flattering, or
too enthusiastic, and say that the only true ideal for
Ireland is to be once more, what it was of old, a nation
of saintly scholars. " To the English," it was said,
"was given the empire of the sea; to the French, the
empire of the land ; to the Germans, the empire of the
air." What a sublime destiny it would be, if, with these
latter, we could share the dominion over human thought ;
if, utilising to the utmost the varied and inexhaustible
treasures of talent that lie hidden around us, we could
explore unknown fields of science, and garner intellectual
wealth till the nations of the world cried out with envy ; if
we could open up our sanctuaries of learning to strangers,
and send apostles of intellect, as we send to-day apostles
of faith, to nations that hail the rising, or sadden under
the setting sun ! And all this intellectual glory should
be ours, whilst the deposit of faith remains intact, the
past and eternal glory of Ireland's fidelity to rehgion
undimraed ; whilst her science is not the litter of dead
philosophies dug from the past like the members of
8*
116 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
a mutilated statue, but the perfection of the fair and
Hving figure that woke to music and immortality when
the sunhght of faith had dawned upon it. Let us hope
that this is not the dream of a sleeper before the dawn,
but a fair forecast of what may and shall be.
THE GEEMAN AND GALLIC MUSES.^
A FEW months ago we had to hsten with all patience
and seeming unconcern to the apotheosis from press and
platform of one who had passed more than the years
usually allotted to the span of human life ; and who,
after various vicissitudes of pain and strife, terror and
triumph, had come to be regarded as the great national
poet of France, and the prophet of that recent develop-
ment of man's eccentricity — the religion of humanity.
Poet and essayist, novelist and historian, he left no de-
partment of letters untried ; and the praises of him were
so persistent, and his personality of such influence in these
latter days, that even those who were not of his house-
hold or country came to join in the universal chorus
of unstinted worship and unconditional admiration.
" Foremost man of this our century," " Apostle of Free-
dom and Humanity," the "latest seer vouchsafed to us ; "
and in lower tones, "the greatest lyric poet of France
and the world," "the best dramatic novelist of our
century " — this is the chime that has been swinging its
adulations in our ears, and whose music is rather marred
by its monotony.
But even when the glory of the man had reached its
height, when his mortal elements were carried in funeral
procession, and the steps of the sacred temple which was
to be his mausoleum were piled with floral tributes from
France and the world, a question would force itself upon
us. Outside the ranks of newspaper critics, a few
dreamy enthusiasts in his own country, and an exceed-
ingly limited number of poetasters and litterateurs in
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Record, January, 1887.
117
118 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
these islands, how many are there who have read Victor
Hugo's poems ? to how many are his verses famihar ?
who can quote one single line from them? who can
even tell the titles of his works? In the whole wide
realm of English literature, he appears to have had but
one admirer and advocate, an eccentric but strong genius
whose rapturous enthusiasm, however, would scarcely
have compensated the vain dead poet for the studied in-
difference of the English literary world. Master of the
English language as he undoubtedly is, Swinburne can
scarcely find words to express his admiration of Victor
Hugo. He calls him — ■
The mightiest soul
That came forth singing ever in men's ears,
Of aU souls with us, and thro' all these years.
Rings yet the lordliest, waxen yet more strong.
And again.
That one, whose name gives glory,
One man, whose life makes light.
Our lord, our light, our master,
Whose word sums up all song.
And so on through the whole litany of adulation. But
what do the masses of the people think ? Is Hugo even
in his own France as familiar to educated people, as
Tennyson is in these islands ? Will literary men in his
own country form learned societies to explain and apply
the meaning of his verses, like the Shaksperean societies
that are numberless amongst ourselves ? Will there be
a club in Paris, half a century after his death, to meet
every year in worship of him, as the admirers of Words-
worth do in London ? Will his sentences be quoted in
books and speeches, to strengthen them by apposite
illustration, or adorn them, so that they shall not easily
slip from the memories of men ?
But the question takes a wider range. It must have
occurred to many readers that French poetry is abso-
lutely unknown beyond the geographical boundaries of
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 119
the Republic. Since the time of Frederick the Great
who patronised Voltaire, and made French literature,
manners, language, fashionable amongst the Teutons,
there has been a steady decline in the popularity of
French poetry amongst educated foreigners ; and on
the other hand, there has been a steady increase of
admiration for that wonderful galaxy of thinkers and
singers which the Fatherland, to make up for past
apathy, has produced. In England every educated
person has acquired, or thinks it necessary to affect,
a taste for foreign literature. The wild poet, who saw
the fiery snow fall upon the backs of the tormented,
who felt the breath of the hurricane that swept round
in fierce gusts the sad souls of Paolo and Francesca,
who lingered amongst the sealed tombs that held lost
souls, and tore bleeding limbs when he touched the
branches of the gloomy trees, must be as familiar as
Shakspeare or Byron to the cultured Enghsh intellect.
Calderon, too, and Lope de Vega must be recognised ;
and even the far-off poets of the East, with their strange
mythical philosophies, have found honourable places in
our magazines, and more than one learned commen-
tator; and above all, German philosophy, German
romance, and German poetry must be known, if one
desires not to be classed amongst those who sit in
exterior darkness, and have no place in the circles,
where familiarity with the works of genius is the only
passport of admission. But it is no literary crime to be
quite ignorant of French poetry. You may know that
Eacine and Moliere existed, and wrote certain tragedies
and comedies, but no one is expected to spend much
time on these poets of the past, or to waste midnight
oil in seeking to discover or remember their beauties.
And so, for one who has heard the names of Alain
Chartier or Villon, a hundred have by heart the songs
of Schiller and Biirger ; for one who cares about the
Napoleonic songs of Beranger, a hundred admire the
glaive-song of Korner.
The study of the causes which have made French
120 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
poetry a drug iii the market, whilst French literature in
every other department holds a foremost place amongst
its contemporaries in every country in Europe, is a
very curious, and, perhaps, instructive one. It has been
said that the French language is not well adapted to
the higher forms of poetry. With its fondness for light
dental syllables,^ the almost total absence of strong
guttural sounds, and its numberless particles, whose
tenuity is not relieved, as in Greek and German, with
deep sonorous syllables, it remains for ever the language
of the drawing-room or cabinet, of pastoral loves and
sweet simplicities, but can never be made the vehicle of
the stormy outpourings of love or terror, of the stern
passion and solemn feeling which the tragic muse
demands ; nor in Ijrric poetry can it ever convey the
pathos and the tenderness and the sublimity, that be-
long to the subjects, which in our times poetic geniuses
have almost universally adopted. French writers ad-
mit this inferiority of their language to those of the
ancient classics, and seek every pretext for maintaining
that, notwithstanding this weakness, French dramatic
poetry deserves to take a place on the high level of the
immortal works which Greek genius has left to human-
ity. They hold that the rhythm of their language can
never be understood by foreigners ; and that, owing
to the peculiar possession by French artists of an organic
power over the sounds and syllables in poetry, which
they call the tonic accent, the full meaning of their
great dramatists can be interpreted to an audience in
strong, but harmonious rhetoric — melodious, yet as
passionate and striking as the harshest threnodies of
iEschylus ; and that the weakness of the perpetual
rhjrming, which is so painful to readers of French
tragedy, is altogether removed, when by attention to
^ " With what delight did I hear the woman who conducted us to
see the triumphal arch of Augustus at Susa speak the clear and
complete language of Italy, though half unintelligible to me, after
that nasal and abbreviated cacophony of the French." — Shelley's
Letters from Italy.
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 121
meaning and by gesture, every passionate speech is
uttered, accentuated by oratorical inflexion. This, they
say, was the secret of the power of Talma, the greatest
of French tragedians.
However correct this strong defence may be, the
fact remains that for the majority of readers, who are
entertained by their poets, not in the auditorium of a
theatre, but in the silence of their studies, the French
language is absolutely effeminate — we might almost say
exasperating — in its inadequacy to express what are often
great and splendid ideas. And, unfortunately, the three
great tragic poets of France, Corneille, Voltaire and
Eacine, have challenged comparison with the master-
pieces of antiquity by selecting for treatment, charac-
ters, scenes, and episodes that belong to the mythology
of Greece and Eome. To any one famihar with Greek
tragedy, whose ears have been accustomed to the long
rich roll of the Epic hexameter, to the iambics of the
Attic stage, and to the high heroic style of the chief
actors in the immortal dramas of Greece, nothing can
appear more paltry and weak than the mock heroics of
their modern French imitators. Here, for example, is a
part of a dialogue between Agamemnon and Achilles,
on an occasion of unusual solemnity, when the former
had determined to sacrifice his daughter Tphigenia, and
Achilles, her betrothed, has just heard the terrible
report.
ACHILLB.
Un bruit assez etrange est venu jusqu'a moi
Seigneur ; je I'ai juge trop peu digne de foi.
On dit, et sans horreur, je ne puis le redire,
Qu'aujourd'hui, par votrc ordre Iphigenie expire.
Agamemnon.
Seigneur, je ne rends point compte de nies desseins,
Ma fiUe ignore encore ines ordres souverains,
Et, quand il sera temps (juelle en soit informce,
Vous apprendrez son sort, j'en instruirai I'armee.
122 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ACHILLE.
Ah I je sais trop le sort, que vous lui reservez.
Agamemnon.
Pourquoi le demander, puisque vous le savez. ^
Instead of an excited prologue to a tragedy, this reads
like a cautious and diplomatic exchange of question and
retort between the clever plenipotentiaries of two rival
States. But turn to the l2)higenias of Euripides, or the
Iphigenia in Tauris of Goethe, and the vast inferiority of
the Gallic to the Greek and German dialects will be
apparent. Or take any part of the Iliad, or a single
page of Paradise Lost, and then hear Voltaire in the
only epic poem which France has produced — the
Heuriade. Here is the opening description of the mass-
acre of St. Bartholomew : —
Cependant tout s'apprete, et I'heure est arrivee
Qu'au fatal denoument la reine a reservee.
Le signal est doune sans tumulte et sans bruit ;
C'etait a la faveur des ombres de la nuit.
De ce mois malheureux I'in^gale courriere
Semblait cacher d'eflfroi sa tremblante lumiere.
Coligny languLssait dans les bras du repos,
Et le sommeil trompem* lui versait ses pavots.
Soudain de mille cris le bruit epouvantable
Yient arracher ses sens a ce calme agreable.
It is as " moonlight unto sunlight, and as water unto
wine ". But the German language, so broad, and deep,
and resonant, lends itself easily to metrical romance,
historical epic, or the stately drama. Very strong,
rough elements went to compose it — the dialects of the
East Goths who occupied the low alluvial lands of the
Danube and the Elbe ; and whilst still crude and un-
formed, Ovid, the earUest poet who wrote in German,
discovered its adaptabihty to Greek and Eoman rhythm,
and invented the German hexameter, the same metre
in which Wieland and Klopstock wrote their immortal
epics. And there cannot be a doubt but that this lan-
^ Racine, Iphigenie.
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 123
guage is peculiarly fitted for heroic and dramatic poetry.
The long compound words, each of which is a metaphor,
like the compound Greek adjectives ; the preponderance
of consonants, sometimes linked and riveted together
as if to reduplicate their strength ; and the distinct pro-
nunciation of every letter, give a tone of masculine
vigour to the language, which makes it pecuHarly the
language of the tragedian. But even in softer lyric
verses the words fit in, when used with skill, as easily
as the hquid ItaHan. We quote two stanzas from
Uhland's Das Schloss am Meere : —
Sahest du oben gehen
Den Konig und sein Gemahl ?
Der rothen Mantel Wehen ?
Der goldnen Kronen Sfcrahl ?
Fllhrten sie nicht mit Wonne »
Eine scheme Jungfrau dar,
Herrlich wie eine Sonne,
Strahlend in goldnen Haar ?
and these few lines of Mignon's song, which are
familiar : —
Kennst du das Land ? wo die Oitronen bliihn,
Im dunkeln Laub die Gold-Orangen gllilin.
Bin sanfter Wind voin blaueu Himmel weht.
Die Myrte still und lioch der Lorbeer steht ;
Kennst du es wohl ?
Daliin ! dahin !
MiJcht' ich mit dir, o niein Geliebter, ziehn.
But the distinct inferiority of French to German
poetry is rather to be sought in two yet more powerful
causes — the configuration of the countries, and their
histories, legendary or otherwise. It may seem a bold
assertion that the poetry of a country takes its tone
from its scenery, and that the divine dreams of bards
and singers are coloured by associations of mountains
and rivers, the level beauties or rich undulations of a
landscape, or the many wonders of the sea. Yet, if a
poet is above all things a child of Nature — if she is his
124 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
mother, his mistress, his teacher, who keeps her secrets
for him alone, and shows him pictures to which other
men are bhnd, and whispers music which the unfavoured
shall not hear — assuredly his writings must bear some
strong impress of his fancies, and, according to Nature's
teachings, be rich or poor, tame or spirited, the rapt
utterance of an oracle that is inspired, or the stammer-
ing of a voice which has never been lifted above the
low levels of human knowledge and utterance. Hence,
Mount Parnassus was the home of the Muses in the
Greek mythology, and from the mystic fountain their
clients drew their inspiration ; and every poet that has
sung since these distant times has walked with Nature
first, and then with man, to learn the myriad moods in
which she strives to captivate and educate her wayward
child. True to her teachings was the Irish bard, who
returned from the ends of the earth to see once more
the " purple mountains of Innisfail ; " and if there be
any special charm in the works of an artist who is
always delightful, it is the sombre tone in which he
envelops the mournful chant of In Memoriam, or the
twilight atmosphere in which he exhibits the spectral
forms of Arthur and his knights.
Now, Nature has been particularly unkind to France.
She has given her splendid facilities for commerce and
agriculture ; but her dowry of broad, tame, fertile plains,
unbroken by the barrenness of shaggy mountains, and
unreHeved by the desolation of moorland or mere, has
never qualified her to be " meet nurse for a poetic
child ". Smooth, bare levels, dotted with poplars, ar-
ranged with the mathematical precision which Nature
detests, and shallow rivers flowing by dull towns, yield
not a spot which Melpomene could haunt, and lift the
soul of native child or gifted stranger to that mood of
inspiration when the spirit of man breaks forth in song.
But in Germany everything favours the poetic and
philosophic spirit. Its broad majestic rivers, castle-
crowned and jewelled with green islets ; its giant forests,
dark and gloomy, as if still haunted by the spirit of
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 125
Druidical worship ; its mountains, with their Brocken-
spectres and witches ; its historic cities, that were swept
by the storms of pohtical strife, and rent with the rage
of battles ; all combine to give a tinge of the weird and
supernatural to German poetry, and to eliminate what-
ever is merely formal, prosaic, or utilitarian. Every
mountain has its legend, every forest its grim history,
every river its associations ; and brooding over all, and
colouring legend, history and association, is the dark
spirit of Scandinavian mythology. Across the dawn of
French poetry, we see a gay procession of jongleurs and
troubadours daintly dressed, swinging their guitars, and
singing of love and flowers and perfumes, " Vous estes
belle en bonne foye," and " Si jamais fust un Paradis en
terre ". Across the dawn of German poetry are the dark
figures of the scalds, who sang of Thor and Odin, and
the mad Beresarks, and the Valkyres, who, forgetting
their sex, went out on the battlefield by night, and slew
the wounded. The former sang in quaint old Breton,
or the half-Spanish French of the South ; and the eternal
subject in lay, virelay and rondelay, is the silly nonsense
that for ever attaches to purely erotic poetry. The
latter sang in rough gutturals ^ of war, and the gods,
and the fountains of being, and the origin of men, and
the three sisters Urda, Verandi and Skulda, of the twi-
light, and the windswells, and the old man of the
mountain and the old man of the sea. The earliest
monuments of Gothic intellect are these rough old
rhymes on subjects which, though clothed in uncouth
language and darkened in the twilight of mythology,
must still be considered the beginnings of those modern
schools of poetry which have produced masterpieces
which will bear to be read or represented by the side of
' " Sunt illis hsec (juoque cannina, quorum relatu, quein Barditum
vocant, accendunt animos, futursuque pugiue foitunain ipso cantu
augurantur : terrent enim trepidantve prout sonuit acies. Nee tam
voces illft) quain virtutis concentus videntur : adfecfcatur pra3cipue
asperitas soni, et fractum murmur, oy)jectis ad os scutis quo pleuior
ac gravior vox repercussu intumescat." — Tacitus.
126 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the masterpieces which Greece produced in the zenith
of its intellectual power. But the love songs of the
trouveres and troubadours are the beginnings of an
effeminate school which never in its earlier days thought
of the philosophy of Nature as a subject for poetry, and
never in its later days touched that great subject without
reducing it to ridicule. And so even to this day we have
rondeaux, triolets and huitains with " les parfums," " les
fleurs," " les oiseaux " and " leprintemps " well sprinkled
through them ; but not a word that is worth remember-
ing of a past that may be lingered over with regret, of
a present rich in fruitful philosophy, or a future that is
fraught with buoyant hopes and cheerful presages for
humanity.
But did not the Germans actually adopt not only the
versification, but even the subjects of French poetry ?
True ; after the conquests of Charlemagne a strong
imitative spirit grew up in Germany for everything
French ; and the romances of chivahy which took their
rise in Brittany, which celebrated the glories of the
Bound Table, and the bravery of Charlemagne, and the
exploits of Amadis of Gaul, became the ruling subjects
of literature not only in Germany, but all over Europe.
The Italians had no vernacular poetry prior to the four-
teenth century. The earliest of their poems which have
come down to us are simply imitations, both in dialect
and subject, of the ancient Provencal poets. The
Spaniards invited their singers from beyond the Pyre-
nees. All the early English romances are avowedly
taken from Norman sources, and the German romances
are simply translations of the fame of Sir Percivale, or
the loves of Lancelot of the Lake, or the fate of Sir
Tristram. But we cannot say that any works of native
Germans, written in this humble, imitative style, deserve
to be remembered now. Just as the ItaHan copyists have
passed away, and are forgotten, whilst the figure of Dante,
huge, colossal, original, stands enshrined in the Temple
of Immortahty ; and as the Spanish copyists have passed
away, and leave Calderon and Lope de Vega, the sole re-
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 127
presentatives of Spanish and Portuguese art; so the servile
imitators of Breton or Proven9al romance in Germany
have barely recorded of them in musty indices of the Vati-
can or elsev^^here that they wrote such and such a work
in " merrie rime," but that is ah the hold they have on
the attention of our age to be rescued from absolute obli-
vion. Even during this dull period, the only works of any
importance that have challenged the notice of posterity
are the original metrical romances, that have for subject
some national or mythological legend derived from
purely Gothic sources — such as the expedition of the
Ecken, or the Lay of the Nibelungs. In truth, Prank-
ish influence appears to have paralysed every effort of
native Germans to establish and consecrate to national
purposes a truly original school of poetry. The tradi-
tionary ballads of the trouv^res had a host of servile
imitators, who, when tired of extravaganzas in amatory
verse, introduced the same silly sentimentality, the
same profane and far-fetched imagery, the same indeli-
cacy and coarseness into the miracle plays, which, during
this period, were tolerated over the whole continent of
Europe. In fact, Germany had ceased to be a nation,
and had become merely a collection of principalities, and
German poetry had come to be represented by a few
ballad writers, who were welcome in the halls of the
feudal barons, but who neither caught inspiration from
the people, their history and their traditions, nor, in
turn, communicated those passionate feelings to the
masses, which in later times stirred them to the deepest
depths of their being, and created the high ambition
which has placed Germany foremost amongst the
nations in all kinds of intellectual culture. In fact, in
Germany, as in all other nations, nationality and litera-
ture acted and reacted on each other. So long as Ger-
many remained under Prankish influence, political or
literary, so long it remained in a condition of intellec-
tual debility. When emancipated from foreign influ-
ence, it at once produced masters in every branch of
intellectual enterprise. When again it passed under
128 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the dominance of Frankish customs, it relapsed into
sluggish barrenness. It has been said that it was the
Reformation which quickened the intellectual pulse of
Germany, and by introducing freedom of opinion, philan-
thropic liberality, etc., stimulated the minds of men to
those contests on religion, science and the humanities,
by which the intellect is always invigorated, and the
imagination has scope for broad and liberal speculations
in every department of human knowledge. But that this
is not so is evidenced by the facts that for 150 years after
the Reformation, the countries of Europe, which em-
braced Protestantism, sank back into a condition of
almost primitive barbarism ; and that long before the
Reformation, and in the very centre of Catholicism, a
revival of taste for all the arts that can elevate and re-
fine humanity, for the sciences which contribute to
man's comfort, and for the literature which broadens
and beautifies his mind, had already taken place.
" If the 300 years," says an Enghsh wa-iter, ^ "which
elapsed between 1500 and 1800, be divided into equal
parts, the spirit of the Reformation will be allowed to
have been most operative during the first 150 years.
But the diffusion of general welfare and illumination
will be found most conspicuous during the last 150
years. This progress, both of populousness and re-
finement, resulted chiefly from the increase of wealth ;
and the increase of w^ealth resulted chiefly from the
extension of commerce, which grew out of the con-
quest of Hindostan and the colonisation of America —
events independent of the Reformation. If the
European territories shaken by this revolution be
distinguished into Protestant and Catholic countries,
and the respective masses be compared with each
other, the Protestant will uniformly be found the
more barbarous during the three first half centuries of
the Reformation ; as if the victory of the new opinions
had occasioned a retrogression of civihty. The Catholic
^ W. Taylor, Survey of German Poetry.
THE GERMAJ^ AND GALLIC MUSES 129
provinces seem barely to have retained their anterior
refinement ; but the Protestant provinces to have re-
ceded towards rudeness ; and these only began to
recover their natural rank, in the competition of na-
tional culture, v^hen the religious zeal of their ruling
classes began to abate. Valuing thus in gross the effects
of the Eeformation, it is surely not easy to perceive its
merits." We quote another sentence from the same
Protestant author, just to shov^ that the opinion of
Carlyle and others, that modern civilisation is directly
traceable to the Eeformation, is not shared by all
thinkers. "When it is considered that, of the evil,
which for 150 years accompanied the Reformation along
its progress, much inheres in the very nature and essence
of the change ; that, of the good, which for 150 years has
been enjoyed in the seats of the Reformation, much
might equally have been expected without any alteration
at all ; and that a purer reformation from the bosom of
Italy itself, was probably intercepted by the premature
violence of Luther and his followers — surely they may
not hastily, or decidedly, be classed among the bene-
factors of the human race. The Northern Reformers
made tempests and bloody showers ; and now that the
sunshine is restored to their fields, they boast of the
storm as the cause of the fertility."
We see therefore that the change in the religious
opinions of Germany was not the prelude to the golden
epoch of its poetry and literature. That the spirit of
independence of foreign influences, and the popularisa-
tion of German manners, language, etc., had an im-
mediate and vivifying effect on German genius is
evidenced by the fact that it was in the year 1748 the
first German grammar was pu})lished by Gottsched,^
and writing in German became popular ; and from that
year, for a long century, Germany developed, with a
rapidity which astonished herself and the world, a galaxy
of poetic and other geniuses, more numerous, and of
' Up to that date the learned wrote in Latin.
9
130 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
more transcendent ability than all the modern nations
of Europe have together produced. We do not say that
she therefore bears the palm of intellectual superiority,
or that she is the cradle of the world's greatest men.
We do not say that Goethe is a greater poet than Shak-
speare or Dante, or that Klopstock is equal to Milton.
But we do say that in the short space of a single century,
and that century bounding the only national life which
Germany has enjoyed, it has given to the world a school
of poets and philosophers of more unique, original and
varied talent, of higher and more transcendent aims and
ideas, and of greater perfection of artistic workmanship,
than can be found on the rolls of honour of any other
nation. Here are names, every one of which is mentioned
with enthusiasm, not only at home, but in every academy
and university in Europe, — Goethe, Schiller, Herder,
Werner, Heine, Novahs, Burger, FreiHgrath, Klopstock,
Korner, Lessing, Tieck, Uhland, Wieland, Hoffmann,
etc., of whom Carlyle says : " We have no hesitation
in stating that we see in certain of the best German
poets, and those, too, of our own time, something which
associates them, remotely or nearly we say not, but
which does associate them with the Masters of Art,
the Saints of Poetry, long since departed, and as we
thought, without successors, from the earth, but canon-
ised in the hearts of all generations, and yet living to
all by the memory of what they did and were. Glances
we do seem to find of that ethereal glory which looks
upon us in its full brightness from the Transfiguration
of Eaffaelle, from the Tempest of Shakespeare; and
in broken, but still purest and heart-piercing beams,
strugghng through the gloom of long ages, from the
tragedies of Sophocles, and the weather-worn sculpture
of the Parthenon. This is that heavenly spirit which,
best seen in the aerial embodiment of poetry, but spread-
ing likewise over all the thoughts and actions of an
age, has given us Surreys, Sidneys, Ealeighs in court
and camp, Cecils in pohcy. Hookers in divinity, Bacons
in philosophy, and Shakespeares and Spensers in song.
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 131
In affirming that any vestige, however feeble, of this
Divine spirit is discernible in German poetry, we are
aware that we place it above the existing poetry of any
other nation."
We might say in conclusion, that the whole spirit
of Germany is in alliance with the lofty ideas and
emotions which find their embodiment in poetry; the
whole spirit of France is in direct opposition and anti-
pathy. There are two very exquisite passages from
two of our most eminent English poets, which clearly
exemplify this statement. Robert Browning, speaking
of subjective poets, and taking Shelley as a type, says :
" Not what man sees, but what God sees — the ideas of
Plato — seeds of creation lying burningly on the Divine
Hand — it is towards these that he struggles. Not with
the combination of humanity in action, but with the
primal elements of humanity he has to do ; and he digs
where he stands — preferring to seek them in his own soul
as the nearest reflex of that absolute Mind, according to
the intentions of which he desires to perceive and speak."
To the spiritual, introspective character of German genius,
these remarks would admirably apply, and although
there appears to have been no correspondence either of
imitation or praise between Shelley and his German
contemporaries, he derived his undoubted inspirations
from sources to which they had access and recourse,
and his poetry, which has long since passed into the
region of the deathless classics, has an indisputable
affinity with the legendary and lyrical poetry of the
Fatherland. For if the German poets were metaphysi-
cians before they broke through forms and sang in clear
resonant rhythm emotions and ideas that were un-
intelligible in mere prose, Shelley, too, had his mind
formed on the teachings of Plato,^ and his immortal
verse is but the disburthcning of a great philosophical
mind, which laboured under the doubts and difficulties
of existence to the end. And his vain ineffectual strain-
^ Introductory note to E.isays and Letters by Ernest Rhys.
• 9 *
132 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ing after an excellence and beauty, which he ended by-
declaring it to be visionary and ideal, what is it but that
perpetual balancing of reason and fancy, which is so
remarkable amongst the German poets, and which is un-
known to French versifiers? For these latter, unable
to maintain an equipoise between the two great powers
of the intellect, decided to dethrone imagination, and
deify reason. Whence it is easy to understand that
saying of Shelley's : " Rousseau was essentially a poet —
the others (meaning Voltaire and his school of sceptics)
were mere reasoners ".
The other sentence we take from Shelley himself :
"Poetry is indeed something Divine, it is at once the
centre and circumference of all knowledge; it is that
which comprehends all science, and that to which all
science must be referred. It is the perfect and con-
summate surface and bloom of all things ; it is as the
odour and colour of the rose to the texture of the ele-
ments which compose it, as the form and splendour of
unfaded beauty to the secrets of anatomy and cor-
ruption." It is the brilliant surface then of men and
things, and not the hidden mechanism of nature, that
comes under the domain of poetry ; or if the Divine art
will penetrate beneath the surface and seek to under-
stand secret operations that issue in such splendours of
form and colour, it is with a view to understand their
mystery and meaning, and not to reduce them to the
commonplaces of science. Here the analyst and
theorist have no place. The subtle essence of poetic
thought can no more be sifted and solved than the
scent of a rose in summer, or the odours that are wafted
from the sea. Its secret charm, which appeals to our
highest senses, and gives us some idea of pre-existence
as it certainly gives a hope of immortality, is undefin-
able ; and human speech, that is wrought into such
mysterious and beautiful texture under its influence,
has no power to declare the nature of the spell that
enfolds it. And as in the sister art of masic, the
ethereal harmonies which sway human emotions are
THE GERMAN AND GALLIC MUSES 133
altogether beyond the grasp of the geometer, who can
tell the exact value of notes and intervals, or of the
surgeon who knows exactly the physiology of the vocal
chords ; so poetry in its highest forms is far beyond the
reach of critical or analytical intellects, who understand
the science of the skeleton, but are blind to the beauty
and perfection of the living form. Yet France has
always had a dread of the ideal ; and her painters and
novelists, her sculptors and poets, have driven realism
to extremes. Battle-scenes and historical episodes cover
their canvases ; the Morgue and the Salpetriere furnish
the heroes and heroines of romance, and their poets
have either taken the classic "legends, and deprived
them of the life and charm they possessed for the
ancients, or affected those historical subjects, which
even in the hands of Shakspeare are only redeemed from
dulness by the highest efforts of genius and art. The
result is this. The spirit of our age is totally opposed
to dry verse, which the soul of poetry never animated.
A solitary poet, like Austin Dobson, may try to revive
in our magazines some taste for French forms of versi-
fication, with comparatively little success, but the un-
erring instincts of great geniuses like Coleridge and
Carlyle force them to direct the full searching light of
intellect and taste on German poems and German
mysticism, with the result that a radiance is reflected
upon themselves which will keep bright their names
and memories so long as the world retains its appre-
ciation for thoughts that are imperishable and art that
is immortal.
KECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITEEATUKE.^
It is quite taken for granted by the unbelievers of the
day that the world has so completely rejected the great
doctrines of Christianity, that controversies on religious,
or, as they V70uld call them, sectarian topics, are utterly
unknown ; for that nowadays no one is in the least
degree interested in the subtleties of theological dis-
cussions, which at one time set empire against empire,
and engaged the best faculties of the ablest thinkers
throughout Europe. The contempt so freely lavished
on the metaphysical discussions that were held through-
out the universities of Europe in the Middle Ages has
broadened into a disdain for the supporters of doctrines,
which to mediaeval theologians, and, indeed, to all
Christian believers, were absolutely incontrovertible ;
and it is supposed that outside the walls of Catholic
colleges, which with rigid conservatism still cling to
scholastic forms, no one feels the least interest in the
ghosts of past and buried controversies. Thus in the
September number of the Nineteenth Century Mr. Justice
Stephen says : —
" The doctrine of the Trinity, for example, has ceased
to interest the great mass of mankind, and it is difficult
to imagine in these days a controversy about original
sin or the sacraments attracting much attention ".
In flat contradiction to this theory comes the fact,
that within the last year no less than seven publica-
tions have issued from the British and American press,
dealing with the life and doctrines of St. Augustine ;
and following this series comes review after review,
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Record, December, 1887.
134
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 135
treating exhaustively of these pubhcations and the many
most interesting questions they deal with and suggest.
Nor are these questions altogether of that purely meta-
physical nature that would be tolerated, and even wel-
comed by the free-thinking spirit of the age. For it
admits there is one subject it has not yet quite tired of, that
is, the existence of a Supreme Being, and the abstruse
questions that cluster around the great central mystery
of the universe. These it is always prepared to discuss,
especially as they lead out from the company of musty
Christians, and into the society of glorious Greek
heathens, and the mystics of the majestic East. But
the main subjects discussed in recent Augustinian litera-
ture are such antiquated and commonplace controversies
as those which agitated the world in St. Augustine's
time — controversies with Manicheans and Pelagians
about Divine predestination and human freewill, between
necessarians and supporters of liberty ; and, alas ! there
is not a word about the dialogues of the divine Plato,
but a great deal about the Institutes of half-forgotten
Calvin. Still more singular is it that three of these
publications have come to us from America, and that, as
a writer in the Church Quarterly Bevieiv for July tells us,
"while the price to which the Parker Society's series
has sunk appears to prove that the Keformers are but a
drug in the market, and the Hbrary of Anglo-Catholic
Theology stands, we fear, at a figure not much higher,
the Fathers afford material for repeated publishing
speculations ". It is quite clear the world is not so en-
lightened after all. The scorn of Pascal, ' and the
sarcasm of Renan- have not been quite so deadly as
was supposed. Or, perhaps there is something in these
old Fathers and their despised controversies not quite so
obsolete and worthless as the wits of France and the
pamphleteers of England would have us suppose.
' Lettres Provinciales, II.
^ New Studies of Religious History. Art., " The Congregations
de Auxiliis".
13G EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
The most ambitious of these works on St. Augustine
are the Hulsean Lectures for 1885, embodied by the
writer, W. Cunningham, B.D., Trinity College, Cam-
bridge, in a work which bears the title, St. Austin, and
His Place in the History of Beligious Thought. The most
useful and interesting to us is the Historical Study of St.
Augustine, Bishop and Doctor, written by a Vincentian
Father, and already favourably noticed in the Record.
The former has been subjected to a good deal of un-
flattering criticism. The latter has passed through the
Keviews, not only unscathed, but frequently and warmly
recommended, and, we hope, will soon be issued in a
second edition. Perhaps the learned author will pardon
us if we call his attention to a remarkable exemplifica-
tion of the truths conveyed in that chapter of his book
in which he lays down certain rules which must be
observed by professional or other readers of the works
of St. Augustine.
It has passed into the ordinary canons of criticism
that the works of any great author, ancient or modern,
must be studied in their entirety, with such light as
contemporary publications throw upon them, and with
a fair amount of deference for the opinions of those
commentators who, from one motive or another, have
made these works the study of their lives. The viola-
tion of any of these canons is apt to lead to singular
mistakes ; and it will be found that nearly half the
books of the world are written to support arguments in
favour of certain views which are supposed to be con-
tained in the great works of the world's literature. The
subjectivity, to use a hackneyed word, of our minds is
so strong, that we are continually projecting our own
ideas on the page we are supposed to be studying with
illumination independent of that which is cast by other
minds ; and language is so very flexible, particularly
when it embraces abstract and indefinite ideas, that we
can derive from almost any author texts to support doc-
trines which we know very well would be most repug-
nant to that author's mind. We know that Bacon in
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 137
the English school, Beid in the Scottish school, and
Descartes in the French school of philosophy, have been
the originators of ideas which have been pushed to con-
clusions which they would have decidedly condemned ;
and to ascend higher, it is well known that St. Paul has
been cited in support of most contradictory doctrines —
to-day he is a Calvinist, to-morrow an idealist, and the
chmax has been reached by proving him a pantheist
from the words, in ipso enim vivimus, movemur et sumus.
Now there never was an author that required to be
studied with keener discrimination than St. Augus-
tine. His mind was so subtle, and he analysed ideas in
such a manner that none but the strongest and best
trained intellects can follow him ; and then he was
essentially a dialectician, and possessed such a pheno-
menal power over the Latin tongue that he uses
phrases and expressions that actually bewilder in their
apparent contradictions. Even that little work, his
Confessions, which apparently was thrown off without
premeditation, and, therefore, should be marked by all
the directness and simplicity of a plain categorical
statement, is in reality a philosophical treatise contain-
ing the pith and marrow of all he had thought and
read, and full of those transcendental ideas which have
been the despair of those who have attempted to analyse
and explain them. The neglect of these primary rules,
and, let us add, the absence of real theological training,
which is common to all Protestants, have led the Hul-
sean lecturer into many serious errors. Some of these
have already been noticed in the Tablet for February,
1887, particularly the assertion, which probably will
astonish some readers, that the Church of England fully
represents, and has always represented, St. Augustine's
teaching. But any one who has had the least acquaint-
ance with contemporary history in England will know
that one of the most exasperating features of liitualism
in England is, that in the face of history, in defiance of
contemporary declarations on the part of the Anglican
bishops, and contemporary decisions of the Ecclesiastical
138 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Law Courts, it proclaims the identity of the English
Church of to-day with the Apostolic Church and the
pre-Keformation Church in England, and maintains doc-
trines which are reprobated by the bishops and three-
fourths of the Anglican Communion, and uses ceremonies
which are condemned by its formularies, and prayers
which are declared blasphemous, and rites which are de-
clared idolatrous. But long before the Enghsh Church
had advanced so far in apostasy from itself, and irre-
concilability with Eome (for the nearer it approaches
us in externals, the farther is it removed in spirit), the
appeal to the Fathers was a favourite one. It was
made by all the great High Churchmen of the past,
it was made by the Oxford men in the time of the great
revival, with the result that they passed directlj'' into
union with the Catholic Church. But until some one
can define what the English Church is, and declare
authoritatively its teaching, the assumption of its identity
with any other community can neither be contradicted
nor refuted. It is not a concrete body about which
anything can be affirmed or denied. One section of its
members proclaims its dogmatic adhesion to every doc-
trine and ceremony of the Catholic Church, if we except
that of Papal Supremacy. Another, representing a
good deal of the best thought and feeling of the com-
munion, is quite content to exercise a civilising influence
on the masses by the example of irreproachable lives,
and the preaching of a secular ethical system, without
committing itself to any dogma whatsoever, leaving
even the personality of God open to the choice of its
followers, " If some very distinguished members of
the Church of England," says Mr. Justice Stephen,
quoted above, " living or lately dead, could be, or could
have been, put into a witness box, and closely cross-
examined as to their real deliberate opinions, it would
be probably found that they not only acknowledged the
truth of principles advocated by Mr. Mivart, which,
indeed, most of them notoriously and even ostenta-
tiously did and do, but were well aware that they in-
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 139
volved all the practical consequences which are pointed
out above ; yet some of them held, and others still hold,
an honoured place in the Church of England, and, with-
out giving any particular scandal, discharge in it duties
of the highest importance, and give advice, and make
exhortations which are highly appreciated by a large
number of important persons." To say, therefore, that
the English Church represents the teaching of St.
Augustine is to make the latter responsible for "wide
divergencies" of belief, a devout CathoHc to-day, to-
morrow a Socinian or Agnostic. But when the lecturer
takes the other side, and, instead of telling us what the
Church of England teaches, declares the actual opinions
which he supposes St. Augustine held ; declares, for ex-
ample, that St. Augustine considered unity no essential
mark of the Church, and knew absolutely nothing of
the Sacrifice of the Mass, he comes boldly out into the
open, and it must be admitted that he is very brave.
And when he says that the libertas indifferentice is a
Pelagian doctrine, and that man has no such liberty,
and that this is the teaching of St. Augustine, we can
bring him down, even in this abstruse and most difficult
matter, to the words of the great Doctor himself, and to
the exposition of these words which was made by his
followers and commentators. To select a few sentences
out of thousands, in his dialogue with Evodius about
free-will, he uses the following words : "Si natura vel
necessitate iste motus existit, culpabilis esse nullo pacto
potest " (Lib. iii., cap. 1) ; and in the following chapter,
comparing the motion of the will to that of a stone
which is cast, he says : —
" Verumtamen in eo dissimilis est, quod in potestate
non habet lapis cohibere motum, quo fertur inferius ;
animus vero, dum non vult non ita movetur, ut superi-
oribus desertis, inferiora diligat : et ideo lapidi naturaHs
est ille motus, animo vero iste voluntarius ".
And again : —
" Audi ergo primo ipsum Dominmn ubi duas arbores
commemorat, quarum mentionem ipse fccisti ; audi di-
140 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
centem, aut facite arborem bonam, et fructum ejus
bonum, aut facite arborem malam, et fructum ejus
malum. Cum ergo elicit, aut hoc facite, aut illud facite,
potestatem indicat, non naturam. Nemo enim nisi
Deus facere arborem potest ; sed habet unusquisque in
voluntate aut eligere quae bona sunt, et esse arbor
bona ; aut eligere quse mala sunt, et esse arbor mala.
Hoc ergo Dominus dicens, aut facite illud, aut facite
illud, ostendit esse in potestate quid facerent." — In Actis
cum Felice, Manichao, Lib. ii., cap. 4.^
We pass here from the lecturer to the Church Quar-
terly reviewer, who is inclined to differ from Mr. Cun-
ningham in his opinion of St. Augustine's Eule of Faith,
for he states that the latter took the Sacred Scriptures
for the recorded and established representatives of Di-
vine Truth on earth, adding that, " although Church
authority is to him the immediate practical medium by
which he obtains access to Scripture, and is led to be-
lieve it, yet every element and constituent of Church
authority, M'hether the individual teaching of Fathers,
or the united voice of Councils, is to him capable of
mistake. It is Scripture alone in which he has decided
to find no error." This is rather a strange assertion
about the saint, who declared that he accepted the
Scriptures only from the hands of the Church ; and it
is more strangely supported by the quotation given in
the note from the saint's letters to St. Jerome. This
note is simply a distinction which St. Augustine draws
between the Canonical books of Scripture and those
which were considered doubtful or apocryphal, or were
the works of individual writers — " Fateor charitati tuse
sobs eis Scripturarum libris qui jam Canonici appellan-
tur, didici hunc timorem honoremque deferre, ut nullum
eorum auctorem scribendo aliquid errasse firmissime
credam. Et si aliquid in eis offendero hteris quod
videatur contrarium veritati, nihil aliud quam vel men-
^St. Hilary (in Psalm ii.), St Optatus (Lib. adv. Parmen. vii.),
St. Bernard {de Gratia et lib. arb.) agree with St. Augustine.
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 141
dosum esse codicem, vel interpretem non assecutum esse
quod dictum est, vel me minime intellexisse, non am-
bigam. Alios autem ita lego ut quantalibet sanctitate
doctrinaque preepolleant, non ideo verum puto quia
ipsi ita senserunt ; sed quia mihi vel per illos auctores
Canonicos, vel probabili ratione, quod a vero non ab-
horreant persuadere potuerunt." ^
It is quite clear that here there is no distinction made
between Scripture and Church authority, but between
the Canonical books and the works, however learned,
of individuals ; and it would rather appear that St.
Augustine favoured the absolute authority of the Church
in these matters when he acknowledges two classes of
books, those called Canonical, which are presented to the
faithful with the supreme imprimatur of the Church, and
in which the saint says " firmissime credam " ; and those
whose contents can only be accepted when there is proof
of their consonance with the teaching of the Canonical
books, " quia mihi vel per illos auctores Canonicos, vel
probabili ratione, quod a vero non abhorreant per-
suadere potuerunt". But let us hear St. Augustine
himself in that very book which the reviewer has cited,
but not quoted {Lih. contra Faustum, xi.) : "Si non de
aliqua particula, sed de toto audies contradicentem et
clamantem, falsus est ; quid ages ? quo te convertes ?
quam libri a te prolati originem, quam vetustatem,
quam seriem successionis testem citabis? Nam si hoc
facere conaberis, et nihil valebis ; et vides in hac re quid
Ecclesise Catholicse valeat auctoritas, qusB ab ipsis
1 The quotation, as given by the Church Qaarterhj reviewer,
and quoted accurately in the text, is, however, truncated. For
St. Augustine adds : " Nee te, mi frater, sentire aliud cxistimo ;
prorsus, inquam, non te arbitror sic logi tuos libros velle, tanquaui
Prophetarum vel Apostolorum," which bears out still more fully
our contention, that no contrast was intended between Scriptural
and Church teachings, between which no discrepancy can exist,
but between the writings of individuals, even those to whose learn-
ing and sanctity St. Augustine bea)\s such warm testimony, as in his
Opws fmperfectum, iv., 112, and the inspired teachings of Scripture
and the teachings of the infallible Church.
142 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
fundatissimis sedibus Apostolorum usque ad hodiernam
diem succedentium sibimet Episcoporum serie et tot
populorum consensione firmatur." And again, " Quis-
quis falli metuit obscuritate qufestionis, Ecclesiam de illo
Gonsulat, quam sine ulla ambiguitate Sacra Scriptura
demonstrat " (Lib. i., contra Cresconium, cap. 33) ; and that
well-known expression, "Ego vero Evangelic non cre-
derem, nisi me Ecclesise Catholicae commoveret auc-
toritas " (cap. 8, contra Eimtolam Fimdamenti) . We shall
not dwell on the statement that St. Augustine's behef
in the Sacred Scriptures arose from his determination to
recognise some authority, and in the " circumstances of
inability to criticise which existed for him in the ignor-
ance of the original languages, and the possibility of
error in the particular MSS. to which he had access ".
But it is in just these particular cases that St. Augus-
tine recognises the necessity of a living and infallible
authority, and, therefore, reposes his final faith in the
magistermm of the Chm'ch. And as to the superior
advantages we possess in the facilities for studying
Scripture critically by aid of philological and exegetical
research, they have resulted in an issue which was
very far from the lofty faith and sublime hope of St.
Augustine — the rationahsm of modern Europe.
In the same way the reviewer, whilst doubting about
Mr. Cunningham's success in proving logically that the
Calvinistic doctrines are quite different from the Augus-
tinian, lapses into some mistakes. He cannot under-
stand, for example, in what the Augustinian doctrine of
man's inability to work out his own salvation differs
from the Calvinistic doctrine of man's total depravity,
forgetting that inability to perform supernatural acts
without the efficacious help of the Most High is very
different from the incapacity to receive such help owing
to the total depravity of nature. He ignores the distinc-
tion made by Catholic theologians between positive and
negative reprobation — the former abstracting altogether
from the malice of the sinner, and insisting that the
reprobate were created with a view to eternal punish-
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 143
ment ; the latter, meaning the prescience of God
foreseeing the commission of sin, and the necessary
subsequent pmiishment. " Providentia summi Dei, non
fortuita temeritate, regitur mundus," says St. Augus-
tine, " et ideo nunquam esset istorum geterna miseria,
nisi esset magna mahtia ; " and again in another place,
" omnis poena, si justa est, peccati poena est, et suppli-
cium nominatur" (Lib. iii., de lib. arb., cap. 18). As
to the case of Pharaoh, and the words of St. Augustine,
of which the Calvinists have made so much, " Operari
Deum in cordibus hominum ad inclinandas eorum volun-
tates, quocunque voluerit, sive ad bona pro sua miseri-
cordia, sive ad mala pro meritis eorum," a sufficient
explanation is found in the words of St. Thomas, when
speaking of this passage he says : " Nam ad bonum
inclinat hominum voluntates directe et per se, tanquam
auctor bonorum ; ad malum autem dicitur inclinare, vel
suscitare homines occasionaliter ; in quantum scilicet
Deus homini proponit vel interius, vel exterius, quod
quantum est ex se, est inductivum ad bonum ; sed homo
propter suam malitiam perverse utitur ad malum "
{Epist. adBom., c. ix., 17). And again, " Deus instigat
hominem ad bonum, puta regem ad defendendum jura
regni sui, vel ad puniendum rebelles ; sed hoc instinctu
bono malus homo abutitur secundum malitiam cordis
sui. Et hoc modo circa Pharaonem accidit ; qui cum a
Deo excitaretur ad regni sui tutelam, abusus est hac
excitatione ad crudelitatem."
With the conclusions, however, of the reviewer, we
can almost entirely agree. The principal conviction
which the study of Augustinian doctrines has brought
home to him is, that where the doctrine of predestina-
tion is too exclusively regarded, without any application
of external sacramental aids, it can only result in a
morbid Pharisaism, which placidly condemns the larger
portion of mankind to eternal punishment, or a still
more morbid despair, which ends in a total disregard of
duties which even the natural law imposes. For it is
clear that the recourse to the Sacraments ought to
144 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
implj^ a belief that there is a necessity for spiritual
assistance derivable from external sources, and a cor-
responding belief that such sources can adequately
supply what is wanting to the weakness of Nature.
And though prayer must always have a very large place
in any scheme of spiritual economy, as being one of the
easiest and readiest means of approaching our Maker,
still we require some facilities of access to channels
of Divine Mercy, whence grace will infallibly flow to us,
if no obstacle is raised by the perversity of Nature. We
will not stop here to ask the reviewer what spiritual
assistance a merely commemorative ceremony such as
the "Lord's Supper" can impart; and what other
Sacrament is provided for adults in ordinary Protestant-
ism? But when he traces the infideHty which un-
happily does exist in Catholic countries to a multipHcity
of sacramental forms, that is, to too many visible means
of approaching the Unseen, we cannot quite follow him.
The same odd fancy has struck the mind of another
writer, whose latest work. Natural Law in the Sjnritual
World, has attracted considerable attention in this
country and in America. In two chapters of this work
entitled "Semi-parasitism" and "Parasitism," Pro-
fessor Drummond traces the apostasy of Catholics to
the fact that "the Catholic Church ministers falsely to
the deepest needs of man, reduces the end of religion to
selfishness, and offers safety without spirituality. . . .
No one who has studied the religion of the continent
upon the spot has failed to be impressed with the appal-
ling spectacle of tens of thousands of unregenerate
men sheltering themselves, as they conceive it, for
eternity, behind the Sacraments of Eome."^ The
professor draws a parallel from Nature, in which he
compares ordinary Catholics to those parasitical animals
which, deriving strength and safety from superior organ-
isms, rarely develop into healthy conditions of life, and
^ Natural Laiv in the Spiritual World, p. 329. London :
Hodder & Stoughton,
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 145
never put forth those organs which belong to their
nature, and which are provided by necessary laws as a
means of sustenance or defence. And although he is
careful to state that the teachings of the Catholic Church
do not promise safety or moral perfection except to
those who correspond with the graces of which she
is the depositary, yet he breaks out constantly into
angry invective against the system, and places in the
same category of contempt the Evangelical, who believes
in his unconditional salvation through the merits of the
atonement, and the CathoHc who trusts for his salva-
tion to the efficacy of prayer and the Sacraments. But
a more acute thinker would perceive that there is this
wide distinction, that the Evangelicals trust implicitly
in the merits of redemption to the positive exclusion of
all merit and of all effort on our part, these latter being
to them but " filthy rags," whereas the Church most
positively insists that in most of the Sacraments the
grace received is proportioned to the state of the soul
which receives it. It is the obvious distinction of grace
received ex opere operantis and ex opere operato which is
so familiar to Catholic students, but quite unknown to
the Protestant professor. But the parallel between
organic and spiritual life is in these chapters carried a
little too far. For either the professor admits the
supernatural, and then he must of necessity admit the
operation of grace either in the Catholic or Evangelical
sense, and thus he admits external assistance apart
from internal effort and uncontrolled by it ; or, what is
more likely, he denies the supernatural element alto-
gether in the spiritual life, and speaks of ordinary
natural laws in the development of moral and mental
energies. In this latter case, the analogy between the
lower organisms and the human mind does not hold,
because the contention is that organs and powers are
developed by a principle of natural law which adapts
organisms to their necessities. This supposes a struggle
for existence, and a contest of the weaker with the
stronger powers of Nature. But abstracting from the
10
146 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
supernatural, what contest goes on in man that can
develop and strengthen his moral powers ? No doubt
his mental energies are developed in his struggle against
Nature, and he puts forth strength that will save him
against the uncontrolled forces which seek his destruc-
tion. Thus he ascends from the flint fire and the
friction fire of the forest to the patent stove and electric
lamp of civilisation, and from the coracle or canoe to
the steamboat. But morally speaking, there being no
danger, there is neither struggle nor contest, therefore
no development, and therefore he must remain the
primitive barbarian, rather enervated, but not at all
exalted, by his sense of safety in civihsation. The appli-
cation of natural law to the spiritual world is here,
therefore, entirely at fault, and, indeed, we might say
that the whole work is fanciful rather than logical. But
writers of this kind must always break a lance with the
Catholic Church ; it adds to their honour to be defeated.
Apart, therefore, from the perversities of individuals
for which no system can be held responsible, it would
be difficult to conceive a more perfect supernatural sys-
tem, and one better accommodated to spiritual necessi-
ties and spiritual growth than that which is presented
by the Church. It holds the golden mean between the
extremes of Evangehcahsm and Kationahsm. It
neither promises salvation without effort, nor salvation
without assistance. It neither preaches vicarious
sanctification nor human perfectibility. But after
declaring the high moral precepts that are contained in
the absolute commandments of the Most High, and the
counsels of perfection in the Gospels, it leads its mem-
bers by individual effort on their part, and by the
strength supplied by the Sacraments, to such possibilities
of perfection as are compatible with the limits of a fallen
nature. It allows grace and free-will to work harmoni-
ously. They are the centripetal and centrifugal forces
that keep the soul in its perfect orbit round the central
sun of its existence. It does not encourage pride or
overweening consciousness in our own powers ; neither
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 147
does it paralyse effort by promising absolute security
through the merits of the Eedemption. To say, there-
fore, that " Roman Catholicism opens to the masses a
molluscan shell. They have simply to shelter them-
selves within its pale, and they are safe," is palpably
absurd. And so is the typical case which the professor
gives of the Catholic convert who said: "I used to be
concerned about rehgion, but religion is a great subject.
I was very busy. A Protestant, my attention was called
to the Eoman Catholic religion. It suited my case.
And instead of dabbling in religion for myself, I put
myself into its hands. Once a year I go to Mass."
This is not serious reasoning at all. It is houffonnerie.
To whatever causes, therefore, the infidehty of Cathohc
countries is attributable, it certainly cannot be traced
to the sacramental system in the Church. A system
that has been adopted by such minds as St. Augustine
and St. Thomas, and which has produced those marvels
of sanctity, who have been raised by the veneration of
the people or by the voice of the Church in thousands
upon her altars, cannot be so enervating as our Protest-
ant friends would have us suppose. It is the only
system which is in strict accord with the words of Holy
Scripture — the only one that can adapt itself with ease
to those difficult passages that seem to be irreconcilable
in Holy Writ, the only system that meets the wants of
men when pride is weakened — •
And the helpless feet stretch out
To find in the depths of the darkness
No footing more solid than doubt.
And there are only two classes that can possibly re-
ject it. The religious fanatic who believes he has got
"rehgion," and attributes a play of emotions to the
breathing of the Spirit of God ; and the Rationalist who
rejects all supernatural agencies, and thinks that man
can raise himself by unaided effort to the full stature
of moral perfection. The emotional and exciting religion
of the former, however repulsive to refined minds, will
10*
148 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
always find adherents amongst the classes, who prefer
a play of feelings to that elevation of mind and heart
towards God which is taught by the Catholic Church ;
the latter will command the assent of that large and
evergrowing class, which with intolerant pride strives to
match its puny strength against " principaHties and
powers, against the rulers of the world of this darkness,
against the spirits of wickedness in the high places ".
We have been tempted into this rather discursive
paper by the pleasing fact that Augustinian doctrines
are to-day commanding the attention and reverence of
so many thoughtful men throughout the world. And
it is a satisfaction to know that the Church Quarterly
reviewer adds an unbiassed testimony to the excellence
of the Catholic work {A Historical Stiidy), and its
superiority in all biographical respects to the other
publications we have mentioned. This book, therefore,
must become the standard work on St. Augustine, and
we have thrown out the above hints in the hope that
they may catch the eye of the learned author, and per-
haps elicit from him an explanatory chapter in the shape
of an " Appendix". Nor should we be surprised to find
that in time a good deal of Augustinian literature will
cluster around this work which has come to us so
modestly, and has been received in so welcome a
manner. For the subject is practically inexhaustible.
The writings of St. Augustine touch on all those
problems that will ever have a lasting influence on the
human mind. Mr. Cunningham skimmed in one
sentence a subject that could be easily built into a
treatise, when he said : " Just as it is true that he may
well be compared to Descartes in regard to the problems
of the certainty of knowledge, so it is true that he seems
to have anticipated Kant in proclaiming the true free-
dom of the will " ; and a whole library might be con-
structed out of his suggestions, just as devastating
heresies arose from the misinterpretation of his words.
If it were true that he anticipated Descartes and Kant,
the philosophy of the present would possess very httle
RECENT AUGUSTINIAN LITERATURE 149
that would be original, and the philosophy of the future
would have but a limited field for research. This is but
saying that the best intellects of the world have been
employed, consciously or otherwise, in seeking to make
clear those mysteries that would never have dawned on
the human mind but through the illumination of the
Holy Spirit.
THE POETKY OF MATTHEW AKNOLD.i
It has been remarked by a very profound critic that
England owes her supremacy in hterature almost
entirely to her poets. It is needless to repeat here the
parallels he has drawn between her literary celebrities
in other departments, and those of foreign countries,
past and present. It is quietly acknowledged that in
all sciences requiring depth and profundity of thought,
combined with the cognate talent for dogged and per-
sistent labour, England will not bear a moment's com-
parison with Germany ; and that in the lighter and
more graceful arts, such as essays and critiques, she
has never had a Montaigne or Sainte-Beuve. But in
the divinest art of all — that of wedding the loftiest
thoughts to the sweetest language — she stands pre-
eminent, without rival, without equal, at least since the
time that Apollo honoured Pindar with half the fruit-
offerings of his altars, and the face of Sappho was
engraved on the current coinage of Mitylene. It is,
therefore, no measured praise to say, as most of our
critics have said of Matthew Arnold, that in a country,
rendered illustrious by its poets, and in an age, which
boasts of its distinction in their number and uniform
excellence, a great litterateur claims the chief notice of
the present, and the more matured admiration of future
generations, solely because of his supreme endowments
as a singer.
Yet it must be said, that if the recognition of
Arnold's gifts as a poet is neither very qualified nor un-
^ Irish Ecclesiastical Record, June, 1888.
150
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 161
certain, it was made tardily, and with some apparent
reluctance. The fame of Tennyson has so completely
overshadowed that of all his contemporaries, that it was
difficult to wake the public ear to melodies almost as
sweet as those of its favourite. And even yet we are
told that Arnold's poetry is. a sealed book to the multi-
tude, for the reason that it is so excessively polished
and refined, that the practical genius of the English
people, which detests the semblance of affectation, will
not brook its Attic perfection ; and that for the same
reason, the verdict of posterity is rather doubtful, un-
less, indeed, it grows cultured beyond present possi-
bilities of belief.
The truth appears to be that if Arnold does not
rank with the highest divinities, he may well take a
place among the demigods of his art ; and that, if he
can never become popular in the sense that he will be
read in every household, and his poems used as a minor
gospel of life, at least he will always have a place on the
shelves of those who possess or affect the taste for
appreciating noble thinking, and language that is
polished and artistic.
Matthew Arnold's poetic genius is imitative rather than
creative. No distinctive character, thought, or teaching
can be attributed to him ; and, with the exception of
one or two remarkable poems, he exhibits no originality
of style. His longer and more ambitious efforts, such
as Tristram and IseuU, Solirah and Bustum, are quite
unique in design, worked out with infinite care, ex-
ceedingly tender and pathetic, yet lacking that freshness
which would make them unfamiliar, and entitle them
to be called the peculiar creations of their author.
Amongst his shorter productions, a Memory- Pic kire
might have been written by one of the early lyrists who
immediately preceded Shakspeare and Ben Jonson ;
Stagirius miglit fit in admirably with The Drea^n of
Gerontius ; and we can characterise only one as abso-
lutely original in thought, metre and rhythm, that is,
The Forsaken Merman, redolent in every line of the sea,
152 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the peculiar object of Arnold's nature-worship. But
two influences can be distinctly, almost too easily,
traced in these poems — that of the ancient dramatists
of Greece, and that of him who appears to have
moulded and modelled all modern poetic thought —
William Wordsworth. The influence of the former is
detected in the structure, that of the latter in the spirit,
of his poems. Arnold has had the courage of fram-
ing one or two of his longer poems on the models of
the Hellenic masterpieces ; and they were welcomed by
the pubhc, not so much, we venture to say, for their
intrinsic merit, as because they were accepted as a
seasonable protest against the tradition that poetry was
to be locked up, line after line, in the trammels of
rhyme. Yet it has long since been laid down as an
absolute impossibility — this attempt to construct a
modern drama, or dramatic poem, that would exhibit
the passion and pathos that filled the easy, natural lives
of the ancients, and this, too, with the short rapid
action of the Greek dramas. Mr. Swinburne has
attempted it in Phcedra and Atalcmta in Calydon ; but
although he possesses an extraordinary power over the
language, and the latter tragedy is unique for its beauty
and originality, it is not Greek in any sense. Neither
can the Strayed Reveller of Matthew Arnold be called " the
subtly interwoven harmony of a poem," as some have
designated it ; for though the author evidently desired
to keep it strictly within the lines of Greek models, and
writes of thyrsi and " fawnskins wet with dew," as if he
had seen the raging Bacchanals of Euripides, it is
ancient poetry without the light and perfume of Greece,
and modern poetry without its music. But where
Arnold has achieved his most conspicuous success is
in his creation of a metrical rhythm adapted from the
ancient choruses, and consisting of irregular, but well-
accented lines unrhymed, and devoted principally to
elegiacs ; and hence, if for no other reason, it is most
probable that of all his poems Rugby Chajjel and Heine's
Grave will be those for which he will be best re-
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 153
membered, and which will be regarded as his character-
istic creations.
Although in general the structure of his lines is very
perfect, it cannot be said that it ever attains to the
marvellous music of Tennyson, with whom alone he
can be compared. His verses are more transparent,
but less melodious ; and it is rather difficult to under-
stand how the charge of super-refinement or affectation
could be brought against him. In truth, here and
there, in lyrics and sonnets, which demand perfect
smoothness, his lines are neither soft nor regular ; and
he slips into solecisms, such as Tennyson would have
lost his right hand rather than write. That unpleasant
Americanism "say" recurs more than once; and the
expression "let be " in the sense of not troubling nor
molesting, is used at least in two lyrics— that called
Beqiiiescat —
Her heart was tired, tired,
And now they let her be ;
and in Meeting —
Ah I warn some more ambitious heart,
And let the peaceful be I
On the other hand, we catch ghmpses of expressions,
such as "some wet bird-haunted English lawn," and
"the soft, ash-coloured hair," which claim for Matthew
Arnold one of Tennyson's chief est charms — his power
of noting and using dexterously the most commonplace
accidents or appearances of Nature.
It is, however, in his cast of thought that the in-
fluence of Wordsworth is so distinctly observable. We
have here the same passionate love of Nature that
characterises the latter, the same interpretation of its
thousand moods, the same coercing of sounds and sights
into the service of human joy or sorrow, and invariably
the same distinct moral at the end, occurring as regu-
larly as the envoi of a French ballade. But we miss the
serenity that lifted Wordsworth's poetry high above
154 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ordinary levels, and makes it rank as a kind of philo-
sophical system, with definite credences and promises,
and glorifying the meanest things by the perception
that they serve some wise and fruitful end in the great
economy of Creation. And we miss the high tone of
faith that lends to such poetry its calm cheerfulness ;
and find another dreary example of how impotent art
is to preserve the strains of the loftiest verse from sink-
ing into a low, weary monody of despair and gloom. It
is this defect which makes Arnold's poetry so unhke his
master's. He has apparently imitated him so far as to
select the very subjects that Wordsworth treated. We
have in his two sonnets to "A Eepubhcan Friend," a
repetition of the enthusiasm of the latter for freedom,
and his subsequent change of opinion owing to the ex-
cesses of the French Revolution ; and there is a start-
ling similarity of tone and thought between the lines : —
The hush among the shining stars,
The calm upon the moonlit sea,
{Switzerland, 3. A Farewell.)
and the well-known lines : —
The silence that is in the starry sky.
The sleep that is among the lonely hills.
Yet no one rises from a study of AVordsworth without
a feeling of hopeful calm and a renewed vigour in doing
what is right ; and few will close Arnold's poems
without a dreary sensation that somehow everything is
wrong — that there is some initial mistake that vitiates
the beauty and utility of Creation, and the sooner this
universe of ours comes to an end the better. He has a
morbid idea of the restlessness and pain of humanity.
In the picture-gallery of Nature he sees everywhere but
Dantean circles of irredeemable and hopeless misery,
nor will he hear any music other than that of the eternal
sobbing of humanity, chorused by the infinite sea : —
For most men in a brazen prison live.
Where, in the sun's hot eye,
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 155
With heads bent o'er their toil, they languidly
Their lives to some unmeaning taskwork give,
Dreaming of nought beyond their prison wall.
And as, year after year.
Fresh products of their barren labour fall
From their tired hands, and rest
Never yet comes more near.
Gloom settles slowly down over their breast.
And while they try to stem
The waves of mournful thought by which they are prest,
Death in their prison reaches them
Unfreed, having seen nothing, still unblest.
And if one escape, perchance, it is to meet a more
dreadful fate from
The freshening wind and blackening sea.
And then the tempest strikes him ; and between
The lightning bursts is seen
Only a di-iving wreck,
And the pale master on his spar-strewn deck
With anguished face and iiying hair
Grasping the rudder hard,
Still bent to make some port, he knows not where,
Still standing for some false, impossible shore.
And sterner comes the roar
Of sea and wind, and through the deepening gloom
Fainter and fainter wreck and helmsman loom,
And he too disappears, and comes no more.
Is there no life, but tliese alone ?
Madman or slave, must man be one ?
Yet his remedy for this weariness of Hfe is that of
AVordsworth. Lay thine ear close to the heart of
Mother Nature, and try to hear her teachings and
apply her lessons! In the "untroubled and unpas-
sionate heavens " observe
A world above man's head to let him see
How boundless might his soul's horizons be,
How vast, yet of what clear transjjarency !
(A Summer Night.)
The sea, " bringing its eternal note of sadn(3HS in," re-
minds him, as it did Sophocles of old, of
The turbid ebb and flow
Of human misery ;
156 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
but here he falters, for the abandonment of beliefs
that could strengthen and solace has taken from the
world the hope of a final solution of the mystery of
pain —
The sea of faith,
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.
Yet once again does he lean on the teachings of natural
religion, and from the mechanical, unconscious workings
of stars and seas derive the lesson — •
Resolve to be thyself ; and know that he
Who finds himself loses his misery !
(Self-dependence.)
There are none of these alternations of faith and un-
faith, hope and despair, in AVordsworth. Passionately
fond of Nature, to the extent that he has been accused
of Pantheistic teachings, he never obtrudes revealed
hopes and consolations on his readers. For the most
part he is content to seek some exposition of the riddle
of the world in the workings and revealings of Nature ;
yet the very fact that we know he was a believer in all
those sublime dogmas that alone make the sunshine of
the earth, colours and brightens all his poetry, and raises
a purely natural religion into something holier and more
determinate, and gives its lessons a meaning and a force
they would not otherwise possess. Unfortunately for
themselves his two most distinguished followers have
forgotten the keynote of faith ; and if Mr. Tennyson's
blunt paradox —
There lives more faith in honest doubt
Believe me than in half the creeds,
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 157
destroys the sublimity of the prologue to In Memoriam,
so does Mr. Arnold's agnosticism lessen the force and
beauty of teachings that practically have no meaning
without religion.
And this naturally brings about the question, how far
Mr. Arnold can be regarded as a teacher of his genera-
tion, for it is now generally accepted that all poets are
teachers, and no longer write to please but to instruct.
We are far, indeed, from thinking that this is primarily
the object of the poets themselves, who probably write
because they must, or throw their poetical goods into
the literary market to be appraised at their real value.
Yet it is not difficult to understand how a writer, con-
scious of possessing the great gift of harmony, might
desire to pour into the hearts of men through the music
of language, those summaries of human hfe and passion
which it is so easy to make and formulate. And this
age has become so morbidly introspective, that we are
assured that every great work of every great author is
simply a manifestation of his own feelings and experi-
ences, sometimes put as broadly as by Eousseau and
Goethe, sometimes to be read only by those who under-
stand how far the symbolism of language can reach.
If, therefore, it appears to be a cramped and narrow
proceeding to criticise the arts by subjecting them to
rehgious and dogmatic tests, instead of judging them by
the ordinary canons of taste, it must be remembered
that in this age of free-thought and scientific unbelief
there is not a single author of distinction that does not
court criticism of the kind, by making religion, natural
or revealed, the subject-matter of his teachings. In the
ages of faith, Chaucer and Shakspeare could sing lightly
of legendary and historical subjects, and leave the deeper
chaunts to cloister and choir ; but in our age the litera-
ture of every country is weighted with ponderous con-
jectures on issues that we are assured are not of the
slightest moment to humanity, inasmuch as they must
ever remain outside the domain of certitude. And Mr.
Arnold himself assures us that as "all roads lead to Kome,
158 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
so one finds in like manner that all questions raise the
question of religion ". ^
Now, it may be fairly asserted that there is no author
of modern times who so plainly assumes to be didactic as
Matthew Arnold ; and none whose teachings are less liable
to be misunderstood. Putting aside his poems, such as
Tristram and Iseitlt, Sohrab and Bustum, we find in all
his shorter lyrics and sonnets some estimate of human
life, and in many cases some ethical instructions where-
with to meet its many evils. As we have already said,
his estimate of this world is as poor as that of Plotinus,
but for different reasons ; and his poetry may be de-
scribed as one long threnody for lost faiths and desires.
Progress has overleaped itself ; science has proved too
much ; educational methods, in which he was an ac-
knowledged expert, have strained human knowledge too
nicely ; analysis has been carried too far ; with the result
of " that strange disease of modern times," whose symp-
toms are impatience of life, and the mournful belief that
we have ideals in mind and conscience which mock us
with the impossibility of ever attaining them. Some-
thing of the sadness of this unbelief was foreseen by
Wordsworth, who in preference to its sordid dulness
would accept as his faith the childish mythologies of the
past : —
Great God ! I'd rather be
A Pagan suckled in a creed outworn ;
So might I, standing on this jileasant lea.
Have glimpses that would make me less forlorn ;
Have sight of Proteus rising from the sea ;
Or hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn.
But a denial of dogma under any form, and a shroud-
ing of the Divine Personality under the veil of moral
abstractions — these two negative principles break on us
from every page of Matthew Arnold : —
Creeds pass, rites change, no altar standeth wliole.
Yet we, her memory, as she prayed, will keep.
{Monica^s Last Prayer.)
* Mixed Essays, p. 98.
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 169
God's n'isdom and God's goodness ! Ah, but fools
Misdefine these till God knows them no more.
Wisdom and goodness, thei/ are God ! — what schools
Have yet so much as heard this simpler lore ?
{The Divinity.)
And following these slippery doctrines, as we have
said, he has glided into that cheerless despondency
whose low melancholy finds voice through all his verses
and becomes articulate in that curious blending of Pagan
philosophy and Christian ethics which he hopes will meet
that despair which every day becomes more pronounced
and acute. " Find thyself, and lose thy misery," is his
lesson in that brief gospel of his called Self-dependence,
forgetting Carlyle's contemptuous remark on that same
Pagan precept : " Too long has that poor self of thine
tormented thee". Then listen to the great ones who
have gone — the "voices and sages" who are ever with
us,
Radiant with ardour divine,
Beacons of hope ye appear,
Languor is not in your heart,
Weakness is not in your word,
Weariness not on your brow !
In other words, put aside the theology of the
churches, and accept a theology of literature. Consult
the hierophants of the past, live in spirit with Homer
and ^schylus, with Shakspeare and Milton ! They too
suffered, but became strong, strengthened by the im-
mortal thoughts within them, and the ambition to hand
down to weak-kneed, languishing posterity, words potent
as fire to strengthen and inspire. Then reduce your
Bible to a mere literature of Hebrews, and the central
figure of the world's history to a teacher and a sufferer,
and lose thyself like Him in labouring for a common
good, and thou shalt find rest — the rest
Of toil, unsevered from tranrjuillity.
Of labour, that in lasting fruit outgrows
Far noisier schemes, accomplished in repose,
Too great for haste, too high for rivalry.
160 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
And this is Mr. Arnold's last word. This is his em-
bodiment of the religion of culture. As a true under-
standing of the mystery of human hfe, and a final
solution of its perplexities, it bears its refutation on the
surface. But having said so much, we can now come
down from the higher levels, and admit that Arnold
has advanced one of the highest concepts yet formed of
a purely natural rehgion. This intellectual cultus,
whose secret shrine is the mind of man, whose divinities
are ideas, whose worship is poetry and the arts, whose
saints are the " kings of men " in the world's history —
is unspeakably attractive to minds which have reached
a certain level and will not admit a higher range of
possibilities of perfection. And even to those whose
faith would lift them to more exalted regions, this minor
worship of intellect may be not only attractive but use-
ful. For there is some gain, unquestionably, in finding,
amidst the ever-increasing grossness into which the
materialism of our century is descending, a renascence
of that idealism, which has made in every generation
poets and philosophers, and which, if vague and in-
determinate, contains at least no doctrine incompatible
with human dignity, and admits of no pursuits whose
utility would suppose degradation. But it is for this
very reason that Matthew Arnold can never be a popular
poet. His verses are too laden with thought ever to
reach the superficial culture of the vast masses of men.
He is the singer of a chosen few. He had more varied
powers had he chosen to exercise them. His lines to
Marguerite, and the four poems marked Meeting, Part-
ituj, A Farewell, Isolation, prove that he could touch light
subjects daintily, as well as high subjects with skilful
reverence. But he has chosen for his themes thoughts
and subjects that do not stir the feelings of the multi-
tude ; and so he must be content v^th the bookshelves
of the student, and to be banished from the hands of
the frivolous. But he has told the agony of his age
more clearly than any other poet of the century ; and
the melancholy which pervades his verses will be ac-
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 161
cepted as a reverential regret for faiths that refused to
blossom in his own soul. And we owe him the high
praise that not a word has he written that could in the
smallest degree be censured for irreverence towards
faith or purity. Tender but subtle, keen but gentle,
trenchant against all irregularities, yet always with a
gloved, never with a mailed hand, he has taken a higher
and truer view of the interests of humanity and the
interests of letters than any man of his generation.
For with reference to the latter, that is, the dignity
of literature, not the least conspicuous of his merits was
that he held his own art in such reverence. If his
poetry can be regarded as an index of his mind, we
should say that he set out with the determination of
saying nothing that would not benefit his race — of
writing not one word that could be regarded as a
blemish on his art. To his mind the vocation of a poet
was one that was placed on "a hidden ground of thought
and austerity," and the Muse of Poetry was a Pythian
priestess who never departed from the solitude of her
temple to mix amongst the pleasures and passions of
men. Hence, if " light and sweetness " are his ideas of
what is most valuable in life, " thought and austerity "
are the characteristics of his poetry. He makes no
attempt at using any of the vulgar artifices which are
so common amongst poets on lower levels ; nor does he
ever seek to rivet the attention of purposeless minds by
involutions of ideas that make half our modern poetry
as difhcult to read as the Greek of ^schylus. His
verses are clear and limpid, and, if thought-laden, the
thoughts are neither mysterious nor occult. They do
not hint and suggest, and leave the reader to conjecture
and doubt as to their meaning. If passionless, they are
tender, no lurid lights of heat and sin, but the calm,
lambent play of gentle motions that never break into
violence and rage. If not exactly dramatic, there yet is
a deep charm in the scenes of his longer poems. There
are few dialogues so skilfully constructed as that be-
tween Tristram and Iseult of Ireland — so much tender-
11
162 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ness, so little passion. The slumbering mind of the
dying king wakes up : —
I forgot, thou comest from thy voyage,
Yes, the spray is on thy ch)ak aud hair ;
But thy dark eyes are not dimmed, proud Iseult !
And thy beauty never was more fair.
And the stately queen grown humble by the bed of
death is content to say of herself : —
I, a faded watcher by thy pillow,
I, a statue on thy chapel floor,
Poured a prayer before the Virgin Mother,
Rouse no anger, make no rivals more.
And in the story told by the abandoned Queen, Iseult
of Brittany, she puts the legend of MerHn and Vivien
in a far more attractive and less suggestive manner than
Lord Tennyson.
This high conception of his art is most clearly mani-
fested in his Memorial Verses. Three poets he laments
— Byron, Goethe and Wordsworth. Of the first he
saj^s : —
With shivering hearts the strife we saw,
Of passion with Eternal Law.
Of the cynical Goethe, to whom the human heart was
but a subject of analysis : —
He took the suffering human race,
He read each wound, each weakness clear,
And struck his finger on the place,
And said. Thou ailest here and here.
But of Wordsworth —
He laid us as we lay at birth,
On the cool, flowery lap of earth,
Smiles broke from us, and we had ease.
The liills were round us, and the breeze
AVent o'er the sunlit fields again.
Time may restore us in his course,
Goethe's sage mind, and Byron's force.
But when will Europe's latter hour
Again find Wordsworth's healing jwwer ?
THE POETRY OF MATTHEW ARNOLD 103
This is a correct estimate of these poets, two of whom
have been more widely talked of and praised than the
third. The fierce rhetoric of Byron, and the easy
cynicism of the old German sensualist, have pleased
the world more than the calm, prayerful, reverential
attitude of Wordsworth. For the same reason the
glitter of some of his own contemporaries, and the
artificial perfection of others, have more or less hidden
the " fugitive and gracious light, shy to illumine," of
Matthew Arnold ; but the highest praise we can give him
is to say, that, wanting his master's faith, he had inherited
his master's spirit ; and that if Wordsworth could live
again, he would probably preach his own Divine doctrines,
but in the music of his disciple. Hence, hostile criticism
is almost hushed in the universal sorrow that has been
felt at his death, and it is thought that the future,
which will certainly shatter many of our idols, will
spare him, as well because he had a high ideal before
him of his race and of his art, as that he died in despair
of its attainment. For now is it asked for the hundredth
time, when will the poet arise who will not only in-
terpret, but lull into effectual silence, "the still sad
music of humanity " ; who will not only lay his finger
on its wounds, but pour balm into its bruises and bind
them, and set it forward once more with hope upon its
eternal journey ? Certainly no modern poet has this
high calling. For the most part " mere idle singers of
an empty day," from one and all we have to listen to
the eternal plaint about lost loves and beliefs. Nor
does the immediate future give much promise that it
keeps enfolded a Shakspeare or a Milton. The civil-
isation of the day is perfecting itself in unbelief, and the
shadow of dissolution is already upon it. Huma?iity is
shifting uneasily to shape itself under new conditions.
Men tangle themselves into huge ganglions of life in
the cities, and then when society begins to fester and
decompose, its elements stream forth (piesting new
conditions of existence under fresher skies and closer to
the Eternal Mother.
11 *
164 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
The world moves restlessly, feverishly onv^ard, carry-
ing with it its curse ; and the voices of its poets, to
borrow the metaphor of our author, are as the voices of
mariners in a storm, or of guides in an avalanche of the
Alps. Yet we must listen and be patient, and thank
those poets for that most melancholy music in which
one and all have framed their own beliefs, and sought,
in sad sincerity, to make light the burden of life for
many.
KECENT WOKKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE.^
1. St. Austin, and His Place in the History of Religious Thought.
By W. Cunningham, B.D. (The Hulsean Lectures, 1885.)
Loudon : C. J. Clay & Sons. 1886.
2. " r/ie Fathers for English Readers": St. Augustine. By
Edwabd L. Cutts, B.A. London and New York : Society
for Promoting Christian Knowledge.
3. St. Augustine, Melancthon, and Neander. By Philip Schaff,
D.D. London : James Nisbet & Co. 1886.
4. The Teaching and Influence of St. Augustine. By James
Field Spalding, Rector of Christ Church, Massachusetts.
New York. 1886.
5. Vindicise Augustinianse. By Cardinal Noris. Paris. 1877.
6. Veritable clef des otivrages de St. AugiLStin, etc. Par P.
Merlin, S.J. Paris. 1874.
7. St. Augustine : A Historical Study. By a Priest of the Con-
gregation of the Mission. Second Edition. Dublin : M. H.
Gill & Son. 1888.
If we were seeking an example of the strength of pre-
judice, innate or acquired, against the force of rigid
reason, combined with an overwhelming mass of clear,
incontrovertible evidence, it would be found in the
manner in which Protestant divines approach the study
of Catholic history and theology. Whether the new
awakening to the importance of these subjects proceeds
from a Catholic instinct, that has been quickened from
its dormant state by the interest attaching to modern
controversies, or whether it is the result of that latitu-
dinarian spirit which is so characteristic of Protes-
tantism at present, it cannot be denied that the most
' Dublin Review, July, 1888.
165
166 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
thoughtful minds in the Protestant communion, rising
above the petty and ephemeral works of local and
transitory literatures, are concentrating reflection and
research on the master-minds of the Church, and seek-
ing with fear and hope to reconcile the doctrines found
in their writings with the traditional beliefs which a
thousand circumstances have made very dear to them-
selves. This movement unquestionably argues three
things: (1) a spirit of liberalism in religion, which is
eminently praiseworthy, inasmuch as it seeks informa-
tion on subjects which, in past years, the Protestant
mind could not rest on without grave scruple ; ('2) an
utter dissatisfaction with the semi-religious, pseudo-
philosophical conjectures that have been deluging the
book-market these past few years ; (3) a craving for
some well-defined authority on vexed and perplexing
questions, which no living voice, either in the Church
of England or kindred communions, either affects or
assumes to possess ; and which their members will not
yet acknowledge to be the peculiar and divinely con-
ferred prerogative, which belongs exclusively to the
Catholic Church. It would be well if we could end
here ; but alas ! we must attribute to these timid
seekers after truth either a most profound ignorance
of the sources whence might be derived a clear, com-
prehensive view of the authors whose teachings they
would reverence, or a disingenuousness in their studies,
as if they dreaded the light that is thrown on the great
authors by CathoHc commentators, and would seize
eagerly on any authority, no matter how weak or ob-
scure, that might lend the least sanction to their errors.
This is especially true of the study of St. Augustine by
Protestant divines. It is notorious that Canon Mozley,
one of the ablest teachers of the Church of England in
our century, has derived most of the opinions embodied
in his work,^ which was criticised in this Eevieiv,
March, 1856, from the condemned work of Jansenius ;
^ The Augustinian Doctrine of Predestination. Murray. 1865.
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 167
and although later writers, as we shall see, have ad-
vanced by "leaps and bounds" from the Calvinistic
interpretations of thirty years ago, they still remain in
profound ignorance of the vast labours expended by
Catholic theologians during fourteen centuries, to make
plain the meaning of that wonderful saint and doctor,
who, knowing but Httle of the Greek language, was en-
dowed with more than Grecian keenness and subtlety ;
and whose scrupulous precision about every word and
phrase, which made him in his last years the unsparing
censor of his own works, has yet not been able to save
him from being coerced into the service of sects whose
doctrines he would have anathematised.
We shall hmit this article to a review of the Protes-
tant works which have lately appeared on this subject ;
and, after showing how closely they approach to the
teachings of Catholic commentators, we will trace their
divergence from Catholic traditions to causes which, on
the supposition of good faith, can easily be removed.
It is not necessary to dwell at all on Mr. Cunning-
ham's Hulsean Lectures, as they have already been
fully noticed in the Dublin Review, January, 1887, and
other Catholic organs ; but, though he examines the
Protestant tradition from a rationalistic point of view,
we cannot regard his opinions otherwise than as a clear
indication of advance towards a right appreciation of St.
Augustine. He completely ignores Dr. Mozley, whose
works, although written by a professed High Church-
man, have been generally regarded as the text-books of
the Calvinistic element in the Church of England ; and
for this he, Mr. Cunningham, is severely taken to task
by a writer, apparently of the Low Church School, in
the Church Quarterly Bevieio, July, 1887.
The little volume, issued from the pen of Mr. Cutts, and
under the auspices of the Society for Promoting Chris-
tian Knowledge, would be very admirable were it not
for the two chapters which treat of doctrinal subjects
under the headings "The Augustinian Theology" and
" The Appeal to Kome ". The former is snuply a series
168 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
of quotations from Canon Mozley's work, The Augus-
tinian Doctrine of Predestination. In one of the few sen-
tences in which the author ventures on an original
remark, he has included within the small compass of
four lines as many doctrinal and historical errors as
were ever compressed in so limited a space : —
" The Augustinian theology," he says, " excited little
attention in the Eastern Church, which continued to
hold the traditional belief.^ In the Western Church,
though never authoritatively sanctioned, it had a deep
and widespread influence, and in the theology of the
schoolmen, e.g., of St. Thomas Aquinas, in the Middle
Ages. Calvin, with his logical and systematising French
mind, revived it, with certain exaggerations, at the
Eeformation."
In Chapter XXL, page 201, he falls into a mistake
similar to that already made by Milman, and refuted in
the Dublin Bevieio of December, 1854 (pp.433, 434,435).
Dean Milman had asserted that Pope Zosimus had
made " a rash concession to Pelagianism," and that
" he had annulled at one blow all the judgments of his
predecessor, Innocent ". The reviewer proves that : —
(1) Pope Innocent's condemnation of the doctrine
taught by Pelagius and Celestius was final.
(2) His personal sentence on themselves was made
dependent on their contumacious maintenance
of these doctrines.
(3) That a full retractation of these doctrines was
made on the part of both, conveyed in writing
by Pelagius, and in his own person by Celestius,
who repaired to Rome for this purpose.
' If Mr. Cutis would consult St. Augustine contra Julianum,
lib. i., Nos. 6, 15, 16, 19, 22, 25, 30; lib. ii.. No. 7 ; lib. vi., No.
70, he would see that there was no difference of belief between the
Eastern and Western Churches. Under No. 19 St. Augustine
quotes sixteen Greek writers to show how fully he was in union,
not only with the West, about which there could be no question,
but with the East as well. This was quite conformable to his
doctrine (Opus Imp., iv., 112) that the uniform teaching of the
Fathers was final.
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 169
(4) Therefore, if Zosimus had absolved them, which,
as we shall see, St. Augustine's words dis-
prove. Pope Zosimus did merely what In-
nocent had fully determined to do.
We take up the controversy where the reviewer has
left it, and give Mr. Cutts' own words : —
" Zosimus, the Bishop of Kome, was won over to
believe in the orthodoxy of Celestius, and after having
held a Council, at which Celestius disavowed all doc-
trines which the Roman See had condemned, he wrote
a letter of reproof to the Africans, blaming them for
listening too readily to charges against good men. The
African prelates, assembled in synod at Carthage, as-
serted their independence of Rome ; declared that their con-
demnation of Celestius must stand till he had clearly
retracted his errors ; and passed nine canons, which
were afterwards generally accepted throughout the
Church. . . . The civil power now intervened, probably
at the solicitation of the Africans."
It is quite clear that Mr. Cutts has not seen the cor-
respondence that passed between Eome and Africa dur-
ing the year March, 417-May, 418, for which period of
time the controversy, at the request of the Africans,
was left open. Neither has he read the very remark-
able words of St. Augustine on this subject {contra
duas Epistolas Pelagianorum, No. 5 ; De peccato originali,
Nos. 7, 8). We give the last reference in which St.
Augustine commends the firmness and gentleness of the
Pope : —
" The venerable Pope, Zosimus, in possession of this
declaration (of Celestius), treated with this man, who
was puffed up with the pride of false doctrine, as with a
madman, who, being gently soothed, might be calmed
down ; but who was not as yet thought worthy to be
absolved from the bonds of excommunication ". ^
' " Hanc ejus prtelocutionem, venerabilLs Papa, Zosimus, tenens,
egit, cum homino (|uem falstw doctrina; vontu.s intlaverat . . .
atque ita velut phrencticus, ut requiescoret, tanquam leniter fotus
— a vinculia tamori excuiamunicationi.s nondum eat creditus esse
absolvendus."
170 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
These words prove that the Africans had no idea
whatever that Zosimus had revoked the condemnation
of his predecessor Innocent on Pelagins and Celestius.
And certainly it was not at their dictation that he re-
newed that condemnation. For during the whole year
in which the question was left undecided, correspon-
dence was passing from Kome, not only with Africa,
but also with Jerusalem, Antioch, and the other
churches of the East ; and in the Encyclical in which
Zosimus pronounced the final condemnation of the
heresiarchs, he quotes not only the African Synods, but
also St. John Chrysostom, Paulinus, and others. More-
over, that EnGyclical was issued j^^ior to the Council of
Carthage, whose nine canons, Mr. Cutts thinks, gave the
deathblow to Pelagianism ; for that Council did not
commence its sittings until the 1st of May, 418 ; and
the Rescript of Honorius (which was issued, not at the
solicitation of the Africans, but in consequence of, and sub-
sequent to, the Papal condemnation) is dated 30th April, 418.
The words of Possidius are final on this subject : —
" But these bishops (Innocent and Zosimus) of so
great a See, having, each in his own time, pointed out
those men, and having issued letters to the African
Churches of the West, and to the Oriental Churches
also, came to the conclusion that these (Pelagian here-
tics) should be anathematised and avoided by all Catho-
lics. And this judgment of the Catholic Church of
God, having been heard and followed by the most pious
emperor, Honorius, he ordained that by his own laws as
well they should be condemned and regarded as here-
tics." 1
This writer, also, ignoring all that has been written on
^"At illi tautfe sedis antistites (Innoceutius et Zosimus) suis
diversis temporibus eosdem notantes, datis literLs et ad Africanas
occidentis, et ad orientis parbis Ecclesias, eos (Pelagianos) anathe-
maudos et devitandos ab omnibus Catholicis censuerunt. Et tale
de illis Ecclesiie Dei Catholicfe prolatum judicium, etiam piissimus
imperator Honorius, audieus et sequens, suis eos legibus damnatos
inter hereticos haberi debere constituit " (Ch. XVLLI.).
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 171
the subject of the appeal of Apiarius to Pope Zosimiis,
repeats the assertion : " That the affair of Apiarius gave
occasion to a solemn reassertion of the independence of
the African Church, and placed the great name of St.
Augustine beside that of Cyprian, as the defender of the
independence of individual churches against the usurpa-
tions of the See of Eome ". In trying to prove this
assertion, the writer falls into errors of date and of the
sequence of events ; and he suppresses collateral cir-
cumstances, which go far to show the obedience of the
African Church to Eome, and the perfect union that
existed between St. Augustine and the Koman See, as
the following facts will show : —
(1) At the Synod of Carthage, opened 1st of May,
418, a canon (the seventeenth) was enacted, forbidding
jjriests or any of the inferior clergy from appealing to any
tribunal beyond the sea. (2) St. Augustine went straight
from this Synod, accompanied by Alipius and Possidius,
to Csesarea, "whither necessity led us, arising from an
ecclesiastical injunction from the venerable Pope, Zosi-
mus, Bishop of the ApostoHc See ".^ (3) This same
year, Apiarius, a priest of Sicca, suspended by his
bishop, Urbanus, a disciple of St. Augustine, appealed
to Eome, and was absolved by Zosimus. (4) This
offended the African bishops, although their new canon
was a proof (if instances were wanting, but they are
not) that such appeals were usual in Africa. (5) On
hearing this, Zosimus sent a legate, Faustinus, to
Africa, and Aurelius summoned a Council of his province
to meet the legate this same year, 418. (6) P'austinus
set forth the claims of Eome to hear such appeals, citing
the general canons of Nicaea, but relying principally on
two of Sardica, which were quoted as of Nicrea, as
Sardica was the complement of Nicaea. (7) Out of
respect for Eome, the assem])Ied prelates wrote to Zosi-
mus to say these canons sliould l)e observed, pending
' "Quonos, injuncta nol)is a venor;il)ili Papa, Zosiino, Apostolicse
sedis epi.scopo, ecclosiastica necessitas tvaxovai" (Ep. JOO, No. 1,
written in the same year).
172 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
an investigation into their authenticity. Meanwhile
Zosimus died, '26th December, 418, and was succeeded
by Boniface, who immediately wrote to the Africans
through his legate, 26th April, 419. (8) On 25th May of
the same year, a Synod of 217 bishops met at Carthage,
and again an appeal was made by the legate to the
same two canons. The first of these, not being found
in the archives of Carthage, Alipius proposed that it be
observed, pending further inquiry at Kome, Alexandria,
etc. Faustinus objected to any inquiry in the East, as
it might give rise to a suspicion that there was disunion
amongst the Western Churches. The second canon
was then read, and Augustine proposed that this, too, be
observed, pending an inquiry ; the whole Synod approved
of this. A Synodal letter communicated the proceed-
ings of the Council to Pope Boniface, and also informed
him that Urbanus had obeyed the injunction of Pope
Zosimus regarding Apiarius. We have here, then, the
acceptance of a Papal legate, the acceptance of the
decrees of Nicaea and Sardica, the acceptance of the
Papal decision by Urbanus, and two Synodal letters to
Eome, informing the Pope of the proceedings of the
Council. As a further proof that there was not a
shadow of disunion between Eome and the African
Church, we find Alipius at Rome towards the close of
this year, lodged in the Pope's palace, treated most
affectionately, and returning to Africa with two Pelagian
letters, sent by the Pope to Augustine to be refuted.
Augustine wrote the refutation in his Foiir Books to
Boniface, in which he says: "I have addressed these
books to your Holiness, not with a view to teach j^our
Holiness anything, but to have them examined, and, if
you should see fit, corrected ". Finally, in 424, a few
bishops (fifteen), out of a province which contained 160,
addressed an expostulation to the Pope against the
action of Faustinus, who imprudently insisted on the
restoration of Apiarius after a second suspension and a
second appeal ; but this expostulation in no wise
questioned the right of Eome to hear appeals — it was
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 173
couched in respectful language, and concluded with the
words: "May the Lord God long protect the Pope,
and may the Pope pray for the Africans ". The sub-
sequent history of the African Church proves that the
right of Eome remained unquestioned.^
Dr. Schaff's work affords a remarkable proof of the
decline and almost utter disappearance of the Protestant
tradition. He is silent on St. Augustine's teaching on
the Church, the Sacraments, the Sacrifice of the Mass,
the Eucharist, Miracles, Papal Supremacy, Vows, Fast
and Abstinence, Lent, Confession, Confirmation, Exor-
cisms, Traditions, and almost every distinctive doctrine
of the Catholic Church. He is an Evangelical, and
seems to have written with the fixed intention of con-
veying to his readers the impression that St. Augustine
was a co-religionist of his. He makes the singular
admission that —
" St. Augustine is responsible for many grievous
errors of the Eoman Church ; he anticipated the dogma
of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, and
his ominous words, Roma locuta est, causa finita est,
might almost be quoted in favour of the Vatican decree
of Papal Infallibihty " (p. 98).
Yet he is gently reminded by the Church Quarterly
Beview (July, 1887, p. 260) that his projected edition of
the Fathers " would look down upon him from their
shelves with a certain reproach so long as he continued
a member of a sect ". Nothing daunted, however, Dr.
Schaff tacitly assumes that the Church is the aggregate
of all Christian communities, and thus, like so many
other teachers, as we shall see, he claims St. Augustine
as a co-religionist, and ignores the custom that univer-
sally obtained in St. Augustine's time of marking as
heretics those who did not belong to the unity of the
Church.
Dr. Schaff proposes to bring out in America an Eng-
lish edition of St. Augustine's works. We shall point
^ See Hefele's Councils, vol. ii. ; Hist. Study, pp. 193-267.
174 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
out a few inconsistencies in his estimate of St. Augus-
tine's teachings later on. Might we ask him to translate
afresh a passage which he has misinterpreted,^ and to
correct this misstatement about the convent presided
over by St. Augustine's sister ? —
" On one occasion he (St. Augustine) assured his
congregation that he could not easily find better, but
had also nowhere found worse, people than in these
cloisters " (p. 83).
For St. Augustine did not refer to the nuns, but used
the w^ords (Epist. 78, No. 9) in reference to a scandal
which had taken place in his own house. And might
we ask him further to re-examine the statement he
makes in page 93 : " They (St. Augustine's Manichaean
writings) defend the freedom of the will against fatal-
ism ; afterwards he changed his opinion on that sub-
ject ; " and his repetition of the statement in page 103,
where he discusses the " Augustinian system " without
coming to any definite conclusion ; for if there be any
point in the saint's teaching better established than
another, it is that he never changed his opinion on that
particular point ? -
The evidence, however, afforded by Mr. Spalding's
work in support of our contention is the most valuable,
inasmuch as the volume purports to be not a biography,
but a critical examination of the writings and influence
of St. Augustine. We may fairly presume, therefore,
that the author has carefully digested the evidence
which has led him to traverse and reject the Protestant
^ " Nam neque in iis precibus quas tibi fudimus, cum offerretur
pro ea sacriticium pretii nostri, jam juxtasepulcrum posito cadavere,
priusquam depoueretur, sicut illic fieri solet " (p. 73).
"For, neither in those prayers which we poured forth unto thee,
when the Sacrifice of our ransom was offered for her, when now
the corpse was by the grave's side, as the manner there is, previous
to its being laid therein," etc.
The loose paraphrase of Dr. Schafi' runs thus: "After the
corpse had been buried, and the holy Supper celebrated on the
grave, according to the custom of the age," etc.
- See Dublin Review, March, 1856.
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 175
tradition. He is of opinion that on all points, except
that alone of Papal Supremacy, the Aiigustinian doc-
trines are incorporated in the teaching of the Church.
He is most candid in his interpretations of St. Augus-
tine's very remarkable sayings on faith and authority,
and the canons of Scriptural exegesis ; and is almost
indignant at the attempted identification of St. Augus-
tine's teaching with those of Luther and Calvin : —
"Others again," he says, referring to the claims of
the sectaries, both in the Church and in the dissenting
bodies, "have a more or less mistaken conception of
this great Saint and Father — they almost take away his
individuality, and identify him in their minds with
Luther or Calvin or Jansen ; while they think of his
teaching as some dreadful notions of predestination,
original sin and eternal punishment. Both these
classes need to gain a knowledge of St. Augustine (p. 8)
.... The modern world should never be suffered to
forget that what is Lutheran or Calvinistic is not neces-
sarily Augustinian (p. 103). ... In the reaction of
our day from the mischief of so-called Calvinism, we may
observe with trained vision both a recoil from a narrowing
and base bondage, which God never appointed, and also
a desire for a freedom, which is lawlessness and licence."
And alluding to those who think it necessary to reject
St. Augustine with Luther and Calvin, he says : —
" Nor can we consider the rejection of his teaching
anything less than perilous to the best interests of Chris-
tianity " (p. 106).
These admissions are so novel and important, that
we can almost forgive Mr. Spalding for cherishing that
pet assumption of the High Churchmen, that the
Catholic Church is the aggregate of the Greek Church,
the Anglican, and what they are pleased to call the
Roman. We have seen how I)r. Schali" makes a similar
claim to Catholicity, but is reminded by the ClmrGh
Quarterly that he is a sectary ; and Mr. Spalding, as an
Episcopalian, speaks of the " Church and the dissenting
bodies around us" (p. 8), and again of "the historic
176 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Church of Christ, and the outside world of sect and
dissent " (p. 105). He apparently forgets that St. Augus-
tine regarded the Donatist Ejjiscopal Church as a sect
cut off from Catholic union ; and whilst he admits
that St. Augustine always held the necessity of external
organic union with the Church, and not a mere invisible
and spiritual connection, and that he also taught the
primacy of St. Peter, he seems to think that the saint
regarded unity with Jerusalem and Carthage as indis-
pensable as union with Eome (p. 44). Mr. Spalding
gives two references in support of this contention, De
Baptismo, ii., 2, and Con. Lit. Petil., ii., 118. The first
makes no allusion whatever to the subject. The second
runs as follows : —
" But even if all Cathohcs throughout the entire world
were such as you most foolishly represent, what has the
Chair of the Koman Church done to you, in- which Peter
sat, and Anastasius now sits ; or the See of Jerusalem,
which James filled, and John now fills ; with whom we
are linked in Catholic unity, and from whom you, in
wicked fury, have separated yourselves ? Why do you
call the Apostolic See a chair of pestilence ? If it be on
account of the men whom you think preachers, and not
doers of the law, did our Lord Jesus Christ, on account
of the Pharisees of whom He said, ' they speak and do
not,' offer any injury to the chair in which they sat ? . . .
If you would consider these things, you would not, on
account of the men whom you defame, blaspheme the
Apostolic See, with which you do not communicate." ^
' * ' Verumtamen, si omnes per totum orbem tales assent, quales
vanissime criminaris. Cathedra tibi quid fecit Ecclesias Romanee, in
qua Petrus sedit, et in qua hodie Anastasius sedet ; vel EcclesiiB
Jerosolymitanse, in qua Jacobus sedit, et in qua hodie Joannes
sedet ; quibus nos in Catholica unitate connectimur, et a quibus
vos nefario furore separastis ? Quare appellas Cathedram pestil-
entiiB Cathedram Apostolicam ? Si propter homines quos putas
legem loqui et non facere, numquid Dominus noster Jesus Christus
propter Pharisteos de quibus ait, dicunt enim, et non faciunt,
Cathedrfe in qua sedebant ullam fecit injuriam ? . . . Hsbc, si
cogitaretis, non propter homines quos infamatis, blasphemaretis
Cathedrani Apostolicam, cui nou communicatis ? "
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AQGUSTINE 177
This is an arg^cmentum ad hominem, addressed to the
Donatists, the force of which will be seen when we
mention that, like the sectaries of to-day, they ixiaintained
that they were not cut off from Catholic unity, merely
because they denied certain truths held by the universal
Church ; and also objected that no sacrament could be
validly administered, nor sacred dignity inherited, by an
unworthy minister. They contended, therefore, that
the Popes were traditors, and therefore not legitimate
successors of Peter, since Pope Melchiades had admitted
Csecihan to his communion. St. Augustine answered
by asking them to name a single church in Christendom
that would acknowledge the orthodoxy of their doctrines,
or the justice of their revolt ; just as to-day we challenge
English Ritaalists to show the validity of their position
by an acknowledgment from the churches of France or
Germany that they are in visible union with them. And
against the second argument that the unworthiness of a
minister invalidates the acts of his ministry, he quotes
continually the text (Jer. xvii.), " cursed be the man that
trusteth in man," and reminds the faithful that they
must rely upon their pastors, not as "men but as minis-
ters of Christ ". There is therefore in this passage no
equalisation of the claims of Jerusalem and Rome as
Apostolic Churches. To prove this fanciful theory, Mr.
Spalding should show that St. Augustine proved the legi-
timacy of bishops by a list of the Bishops of Jerusalem,
similar to that which he gives of the Roman Pontiffs ;
and should also prove that St. Augustine ever demanded
union with a church not united to Rome, as a proof of
its incorporation with the mystical body.^
We see, then, that in the latest Protestant writers,
the venerated Protestant traditions have been reduced
to two points — viz., that St. Augustine was anti-Papal,
and that he did not hold the Catholic doctrine of free-
will. Dr. Schaff practically abandons the first (p. 98) ;
Mr. Spalding reduces the second to a mere doubt
1 Historical Study, pp. 126, 410.
12
178 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
(pp. 28, 29, 68); Mr. Cunningham asserts both, not, how-
ever, in the dogmatic style of Milman and Mozley, but
in a hesitating and rationaHstic fashion. Whilst, how-
ever, we cannot but feel pleased at this wonderful change,
it is impossible to close our eyes to the fact that in one
and all of these books, and in the whole pile of literature
which has issued from the Protestant press on this and
cognate subjects, the same faults of style and spirit are
equally discernible. We think we shall be doing a ser-
vice to these writers, and, indeed, to Christian literature
in general, when we state our reasons for considering
these volumes superficial and uncritical. Protestant
writers seem to regard St. Augustine's works as written
without purpose or unity, a mere magazine of haphazard
opinions, capriciously assumed, and quite as capriciously
rejected, without the least consideration for consistency
of thought, for preserving harmony v^th the teachings
of the Universal Church, or for the consequences that
might result to weak intellects from the facile accept-
ance, and equally facile rejection, of most important
articles of faith. From the storehouses of thought which
the genius of these great teachers has accumulated, every
succeeding generation is quite at liberty to select what-
ever doctrinal opinions may suit the prevailing religious
feehng ; for it is supposed that there is neither unity of
purpose nor homogeneous thought in St. Augustine, and
what is agreeable may be accepted, and what is un-
pleasant may be rejected, without the loss of veneration
for the august character of the saint, or for his marvel-
lous intellectual powers, and without being committed
to the rest of his philosophical or religious opinions, which
may not suit present propensities or the temper of the
times. This mode of action may be liberal, but it is not
logical ; and it proceeds from the groundless assumption,
which more than once St. Augustine indignantly repudi-
ated, that the living Church of Christ is an invisible ab-
stract body, consisting only of the just or the elect, without
any external indications of its concrete visibility, without
any "links of union in the bond of peace " amongst its
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 179
members, without a visible teacher to direct, or a visible
authority to govern, and with no dogmatic definitions to
test its Hving and united from its dead and dissevered
members. It may be very well for Protestant students
and divines, who apparently take but a literary interest
in these matters, and who study the Fathers just to fill
up a course of lectures or sermons, to exercise this
elective privilege, and to use this mighty sun to light
their tiny lamps of learning ; but it implies in our saint
a facility for change, or a dulness of perception, or a
fatal eclecticism in these questions of supreme moment,
which we would much prefer to attribute to themselves.
No one knew better than St. Augustine that there is no
room in the Catholic Church for Socratic licence of dis-
cussion, or for an Academia independent of her councils ;
that the body of defined doctrine, the deposit of faith,
committed by Christ to His Apostles, and left by them
to the Church, can know no change or diminution ;
that within the rigid lines of these doctrines there may
be freedom and elasticity enough for controverted
opinions and purely scholastic disquisitions ; but that
no one from the beginning has tampered with its de-
finite teachings and remained its member. His con-
stant and nervous appeals to tradition and authority,
his inflexibility in supporting the unity of the Church
against schismatics, and his wonderful clear-sighted-
ness, which, with a kind of natural infallibility, sepa-
rated the true from the false both in persons and
opinions, are sufficient proof of this. Yet writers such
as we have quoted see no disrespect whatever to St.
Augustine in imputing to him doctrines which they re-
ject as narrow and reactionary ; and they ridicule,
whilst they admit, his teaching on subjects so exclu-
sively Catholic as the veneration of relics and the invo-
cation of saints, and triumphantly deny his adhesion to
articles of faith, the rejection of which, at any period of
the Church's history, would have placed him at once
outside her pale. They write of the " Augustinian
system " as they write of Platonism or Zenoism, discuss
12 *
180 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and debate it as a purely literary or philosophical ques-
tion, reject what they consider untenable, and adopt
whatever is concordant with their own views, without
the least reflection of the awful bearings of such ques-
tions on general Christianity, and the interests of im-
mortal souls. Could anything be farther from the mind
of St. Augustine than this ? With all his enthusiasm
about the Church, his reverence for her august insti-
tutions, his perfect repose in her simple and Divine
doctrines after his subhme discontent with Platonism,
his love for the distinctively Christian teachings, his
"ominous" words about the authority of Rome, his
tenderness, his mysticism, his ecstasies about God — is
there not something irreverent in making him the mere
precursor of a sect, in representing him as fallible and in-
consistent because they make him independent of Church
authority, ignoring and suppressing him on those points,
where beyond all controversy he is at one with the Church,
and ignobly lauding him whenever an ambiguous expres-
sion in the hands of loose and illogical thinkers seems to
place him in antagonism to her teachings ? The few
examples already quoted will go far to prove this ; but
these works abound with such conceits and irreverences.
We have already cited Dr. Schaff's very candid admis-
sions about the saint ; we now quote him with a dif-
ferent purpose. In page 67 he writes : " The solemnity
of the festival was still further heightened by two cir-
cumstances — one connected with superstition and relic-
worship, the other with the effect of hymns upon the
heart". That is, St. Augustine was superstitious, and
yielded to the "current belief of that credulous age" ;
for Dr. Schaff gives the saint's own words in a note,
from Conf., ix., 7, in which the saint plainly announces
his belief (1) in a vision to St. Ambrose, by which (2) the
bodies of Gervasius and Protasius, martyrs, were dis-
covered incorrupt, through which (3) the fury of a
woman w^as repressed, demoniacs were healed, and sight
restored to a blind man ; and to put it beyond doubt, St.
Augustine refers to the miracle again {De Civ. Dei,
K
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 181
xxii., 8), as having occurred in the presence of an
immense multitude. Yet with this declaration from
so great an authority, Dr. Schaff says sublimely : —
" The subject of post-apostolic miracles is involved in
inextricable difficulties. Augustine himself is not con-
sistent on this matter." But see Schaff 's Church
History.
Again, in quoting the words of St. Monica (p. 71), Dr.
Schaff in his text translates them : —
" Once there was a reason why I should wish to live
longer, that I might see you a believing Christian before
I die ; [but he subjoins in a note] Or more strictly, after
the original, Go7if., ix., 10, ' Christianum Catholicum,' a
Catholic (or orthodox Christian), in distinction not merely
from a Paganus, but also, and particularly, from a
Christianus hereticus and schismatmis, which Augustine
had been ".
The translation in the text is not quite ingenuous ;
but what will Dr. Schaff say to the ChurcJi Quarterly,
which calls him a schismatic or heretic ? and what
exactly made a sectary then, when noio, according to the
most recent Protestant theory, the Church consists of
the aggregate of those who call themselves by the name
of Christ ? And again, whilst translating correctly the
touching valediction of St. Monica : Tantum illud vos
rogo, ut ad Domini altare memineritis mei ubi fueritis ; ^
and immediately subjoins : —
" This Thanksgiving and prayer for the dead can be
traced in its innocent form as far back as the second
century, and became the fruitful source of the doctrine
of Purgatory. Neither Monica nor Augustine grasped
the full meaning of St. Paul's assurance that ' it is very
far better to be with Christ'."
But *t is tiresome to follow out these presumptuous
comments. Dr. Schaff is so exceedingly candid, that on
every page we meet historical truths and contradictory
'"This only I request, that you would icincmbor mc at the
Altar of tht! Lord, wherever vou be."
J
182 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and gratuitous assumptions side by side — e.g., St. Augus-
tine was vigorous and masterful, then superstitious and
reactionary ; he was a thorough ascetic, yet opposed to
the narrow bigotry of monks ; his system is not Cal-
vinistic, but gave birth to the strongest thinkers amongst
Jansenists, Huguenots, Calvinists, Puritan Covenanters,
and Pilgrim Fathers ; he is responsible for many grievous
errors in the Church of Rome, yet has also an Evan-
gehcal Protestant significance ; he was so scrupulously
exact and conscientious that he revised during his last
years every line he wrote, but then he became illiberal ;
he is the father of scholasticism and mysticism, but is
free from the Pharisaical self-righteousness and bigotry
which connect themselves so readily with monastic
piety ; and Dr. Schaft" finally quotes Dr. Bindemann,
" one of the best Protestant biographers of St. Augus-
tine," as saying : " The first place amongst the Fathers
is due to St. Augustine, and at the time of the Re-
formers only a Luther was worthy to stand by his side.
He forms the mightiest pillar of Roman Catholicism,
and the leaders of the Reformation derived from his
writings, next to the study of the Holy Scriptures,
those principles which gave birth to a new era." And,
as if to emphasise the importance of this testimony, Dr.
Schaff gives a page of notes containing the most profane
and scurrilous passages from Luther's writings against
the Fathers, and very disparaging remarks about St.
Augustine himself. And this is not a mere popular
work, where loose and incorrect reasoning might be
overlooked ; it is a work written for theological students
and dedicated to them, and Dr. Schaff is Professor in
the Union Theological Seminary, New York.
From this illogical and arbitrary treatment of so great
a teacher as St. Augustine, it will be easily concluded
that these writers' study of St. Augustine is unscientific
in method and opposed to the best canons of criticism.
The first fault proceeds from the shifting, unstable and
ill-defined tenets of Protestantism ; the latter from the
absence of scientific theological training in their colleges
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 183
and universities. It has been the fashion for modern
hberals to decry and ridicule the old scholastic system
of syllogistic reasoning, and the gradual process of
thought from definition to proposition. The rejection
of the Aristotelian logic, brought about by Bacon and
Descartes, has admirably suited the development of
those vague and unsubstantial systems which we are
asked to accept in room of those religious and philoso-
phical principles which have stood the most rigid tests
of twenty centuries ; and its most fatal effect is discern-
ible in the loose and unconnected habits of thought it
has generated amongst men who have enjoyed a liberal
education. Now the scholastic system cannot be set
aside or neglected without grave detriment to habits of
exact thought ; and even admitting that it sometimes
gave rise to puerile subtleties and distinctions, it cannot
be superseded, because absolutely there is no substitute
for it. It is necessary in the study of St. Thomas
Aquinas, whose system of reasoning is mathematically
exact. It is still more necessary in the study of St.
Augustine, who wrote when theological subjects were
debated in intermittent controversies and had not yet
been incorporated into a science. Victorinus, a con-
temporary of St. Augustine's, traces the obscurity of
writers to either of three causes : Vel rei macjnitudini, vel
doctoris imperitire, vel audientis duritm} St. Augustine
himself admits that some of the subjects he treated were
involved in darkness and mystery. In that difficult
question of Divine prescience and human free-will,
where the Stoic philosophers had to fall back upon
Fate, and Cicero denied the foreknowledge of God, the
great Christian teacher recognised an apparent anti-
nomy whore human reason might confess itself at fault.
In his Epist. (214, No. 6) ad Valentinum he calls the
question of efficacious grace dlfficillimam et panels iii-
telligibilem ; and (cap. 47, de gratia Ghristi) ad dis-
' " The greatness of the subject, the inexperieuce of the teacher,
or the indocility of the pupil."
184 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
cerncndum difficilem ; and in his fifth sermon, " De
Verbis Apostoli," when he was preaching on grace,
he said : Habeo propter obscuritateni rermn difficilem dls-
putationcm. Yet non-Catholic writers, instead of ad-
mitting this difiiculty and their own inexperience,
attribute their imperfect knowledge, and sometimes very
singular misconstructions, of St. Augustine's writings,
to the traditional explanations of Protestant historians
and commentators. They declare that he was so im-
bued with Platonic modes of thought that he was essen-
tially a Christian mystic and transcendentalist, to whom
the ordinary language of men was quite inadequate to
convey the lofty thoughts which filled his mind ; that
if he had abandoned Platonism as a religion, he was
yet unconsciously influenced by it ; that therefore there
is mystery, and prefiguring, and foreshadowing every-
where to his mind ; that even the simplicity of the
Gospels concealed for him meanings which never could
have occurred to an ordinary mind. Singularly enough,
he is accused of excessive subtlety side by side with
this idealism, and that he often attenuates his argu-
ments by distinctions, until they become almost unin-
telligible. This supposition applies to a very small
portion of St. Augustine's writings, viz., the Confessions,
the Sixth Book on Music, the work on the Trinity,
portions of The City of God, and some homilies and
enarrations. It does not apply at all to his contro-
versial works, than which, in language and reasoning,
nothing can be more clear to an experienced student.
We have no hesitation in admitting of St. Augustine,
as of all the early writers, that there are involu-
tions in thought and term in his works, which can
only be unravelled by scientific methods of criticism.
With his wonderful enthusiasm, he was in the habit
of throwing himself, heart and soul, into those contro-
versies in which from time to time he was involved ;
and in the heat of battle his terminology, which was
clear enough to his contemporaries, but was not limited
bv such scientific distinctions as were afterwards made
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 185
by the schoolmen, became enigmatic to those, in after
times, who would not trouble themselves to discover his
real thoughts by following the simple method of context
and parallelism. Thus he drew a distinction between
certainty and knowledge {De Utilitate Creel, xi. ; Retract.,
i., 14), saying of notorious facts, he was certain of them,
but did not hioio them, meaning the knowledge of in-
trinsic evidence, apart from the certitude that comes
from human evidence or otherwise. Yet it is clear that
this distinction might lead in after times to much mis-
interpretation. Again (Enchir., cap. 30), he says : " By
a bad use of free-will, man has lost himself and it".
By free-will, he there means that of our first parents
before the Fall — not that of fallen man. In fact, in his
whole controversy with the Manichseans, he appears to
have used the term indiscriminately of the freedom
before and after the Fall, because he had to contend
against their assumption that sin arose from a principle
of evil and from natural necessity. He was also fond
of using that mode of reasoning called the argumentum
ad hominem, and his favourite method of instruction was
that of his master, Plato, by dialogue. It will be easily
understood how errors have been attributed to him in
this form of argument, which he merely recapitulated
in order to refute. And, finally, he spoke under the
" Disciphne of the Secret," which prevented a full, com-
prehensive statement of doctrines and practices, and the
complete forgetfulness of which has misled Protestants
in their attempts to reconcile the practices of their
creeds with the customs of the early Church. There
was no expression so familiar to the people of Hippo as
that used by St. Augustine, "The faithful will under-
stand ".
We have stated those difficulties, to which Protestant
writers never even advert, as the chief causes of the
misinterpretation of the mind of St. Augustine. It is
needless to say that they are never brought under the
notice of the students of patristic literature in non-
Catholic colleges, nor is there the least attempt at
186 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
scientitic examination of Church authorities, whose
writings, after all the changes of fourteen centuries,
might be fairly presumed to be more involved and in-
tricate in thought and language than the theological
writings of to-day. Yet there can be nothing half so
certain as that St. Augustine himself had no fear
whatever of the absolute conformity of his writings to
the general teaching of the Catholic Church. After a
most scrupulous and searching examination, made two
years before his death — so severe that he characterises
as "declamation and levity" a simple statement^ in his
Fourth Book of Confessions — in his controversial writ-
ings against the Pelagians he found but two errors to
be corrected : (1) that in lib. v., contra Jul, he gave as
certain the name of a physician, which he afterwards
discovered to be doubtful ; and (2) that in his work, De
Natura et Gratia, following a quotation from Pelagius, he
ascribed to Pope Sixtus a book that was edited by Sixtus
the Philosopher. And with very clear insight into the
future, he makes an almost pathetic appeal against being
misunderstood : —
" But let those who think that I am in error reflect
again and again, lest perchance they themselves might
be led astray. But I acknowledge God to be most
merciful to me, inasmuch as I become not only better
informed, but more accurate, through the services of
those who read my works ; and this I always expect,
especially through the Doctors of the Church, if my
writings should reach their hands, and they should
deign to consider what I have written." -
On which very humble appeal Cardinal Baronius
remarks: "The dignified modesty of St. Augustine,
^ " I said that our souls, being in some sort one, I feared per-
haps to die myself."
^ "Qui vero errare me existimant, etiam atque etiara qure sunt
dicta considerent, ne fortassis ipsi errent. Ego autem, cum per eos
qui meos labores legunt, non solum doctior, verum etiam emeuda-
tior fio, propitium mihi Deum agnosco, et hoc per Ecclesise doctores
maxime expecto, si et in ipsoruin manus venit, dignenturque nosse
quod scribo."
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 187
and his humility of soul, combined with such admirable
submission, show plainly, even if it could not otherwise
be understood, that he wrote under the influence of the
Divine Spirit ; since God Himself hath testified by His
prophet, that on no other than on the humble, gentle,
and trembling word, does the Divine influence descend ".
Hence it is that we consider that the most valuable
chapter in the only Catholic work ^ we can notice in this
article, is that where the learned author lays down and
exemplifies the rules of criticism which readers of St.
Augustine ought to follow, and every one of which the
Protestant writers we have mentioned have violated.
After laying down the ordinary canons of judging by
parallelism and context as internal rules of interpreta-
tion, and contemporary circumstances and history as
external rules, and having shown by two glaring in-
stances the bad faith of Calvin and Gibbon, the author
proceeds to the application : —
" Suppose we wish to ascertain what was St. Augus-
tine's doctrine or opinion on some point, how are we to
proceed ? If the subject was controverted in his time,
and he was engaged in the controversy, we must ob-
viously turn to his controversial writings. If he had no
controversy, but wrote a special work on the subject, we
must, of course, read that work. If the subject be one
of the great fundamental truths, such as the end of man,
etc., or, again, some vice to be denounced, or some virtue
to be encouraged, we must turn to his conferences and
sermons. If we want to know his explanation of some
text of Scripture, we must consult his Scripture Com-
mentaries. So far there is little need of rule or compass.
. . . But if our subject be one that was neither con-
troverted in his time, nor specially treated in his works,
we must only consult his occasional references to it in
his books, sermons, or letters. It is chiefly here that
' A71 Historical Study. Dul>liii : Gill & Son. This little work has
been commended as an excellcint l)i(><fraphy by the Protestant writer
in the Church Quarterly Review, July, 1887.
188 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
we shall feel the need for the rules of interpretation.
For, in such references, a writer is less on his guard in
the selection of his words, especially when addressing
friends or persons not likely to misunderstand him. We
must also keep always in mind that in his public writings
and discourses St. Augustine was subject to the ' Dis-
ciphne of the Secret '. Nor, should we forget that some
of his writings, indicated by Possidius and himself, have
perished, and that others have come down to us in a
mutilated state; this will account for many omissions "
(p. 334).
It may be safely said that this sound sense as well as
scientific advice is grossly violated in each of the works
we have chosen for criticism. The fault did not arise
from defective or unsafe editions, for there are large
quotations from very excellent issues of the saint's works
— notably from the Benedictine edition ; but there is an
absence of any evidence of original research, or even of
close reading. In Mr. Cutts' work, for example, the
only doctrinal chapter is a reprint of quotations from
Canon Mozley's work, The Augustinian Doctrine of Pre-
destination, and one allusion, on quite an indifferent
matter, to the valuable work of M. Poujoulat. The
author quotes once from Milman, whose testimony is
eminently untrustworthy; once or twice from Gibbon,
once from DoUinger, and once from Moehler's Symbolism.
Dr. Schaff is worse. Nearly all his quotations are taken
from the Confessions ; there is no evidence of more ex-
tensive acquaintance with St. Augustine ; there is hardly
a reference, if we except one to Baur's Church History,
and one, of course, to Gibbon ; we are referred very often
to Schaff's Church History, and he dismisses the " Augus-
tinian System" in three pages. Mr. Spalding's is the
most scientific work of the three, and is professedly a
critical examination into the writings and influence of
St. Augustine. But although it shows an intimate
knowledge of the saint's writings, there is not one re-
ference to the Fathers, not one to the numberless
Catholic commentators, who for fourteen centm-ies have
RECENT WORKS ON ST. AUGUSTINE 189
been lovingly studying the works of our saint under
circumstances more favourable to scholarship than stu-
dents of our century can command. Milman and Nean-
der, Mozley and Owen, Trench and Maurice, Owen and
Fremantle, and the Church Quarterly Review, are quoted
largely ; and of these, two at least are mentioned in-
cidentally as supporting the charge of Agnosticism
against our saint (pp. 78, 79). Not a word of Cardinals
Noris, Berti, Perroue, Tournely, Merlin, etc., who ap-
proached this difficult study in a more serious manner,
and with far different appreciation of the importance of
their task. Not even a word about the plailosophers
who have long since settled the vexed question of Free-
will and Predestination on the lines laid down by the
Catholic Church.
Yet if, with such misleading, those writers have found
their way through the tangled paths of prejudice almost
to the threshold of the Cathohc Church, what might we
not expect if they would read St. Augustine in the
clear hght of Catholic comment and history? If Mr.
Spalding is almost able to form a right judgment on that
perplexing question of Free-will, can we doubt but that
he would have acknowledged St. Augustine's adhesion
to the See of Peter, if only he had read generously the
overwhelming evidence on that subject ? Not that we
are unwise enough to cherish the idea that the most
convincing proofs of St. Augustine's attachment to
Catholicity would have the least effect on thinkers of this
school in leading them to any practical steps towards the
truth. The day has gone by when patristic teaching
was regarded as identical with the teaching of the Col-
lege of Apostles, and when dogmatic belief was considered
a necessary condition of union with the mystical body
of Christ. The High Church School, in its adoption of
the branch theory, has unconsciously co-operated with
Broad Church latitudinarianism in breaking down the
barriers between Deism and Christian orthodoxy ; for
when the motive of faith is denied by rejecting a visible
authority, the dogmatic factor in religion is removed,
IW EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and nothing remains but such vestiges of Christian
teachings as sect or conventicle may capriciously ap-
prove. But even on the supposition that our opponents
admitted the total identity of St. Augustine's teachings
with the deposit of doctrine once delivered to the Church,
it would by no means follow that they would imitate
him in seeking shelter within its fold. Literary research,
historical knowledge, keen criticism, even a mind open
to receive the truth, are yet very far from that donum
perfcctwn desursum dcscendens a patre lumimim, which we
call the gift of faith. Calm and even minds have reached
the threshold of the Church by patient and laborious
investigation, then turned away sadly and for ever.
When Dr. Pusey could write as he did about authority,^
yet refuse to recognise its existence in a living Church,
what further proof do we need to show that intellectual
illumination is not faith ; and that if mental conviction
does not always precede conversion, neither is the latter
its necessary imperative sequence? In saying, there-
fore, that we welcome new workers in that wide field of
investigation which the writings of St. Augustine open,
we do so because literary labour in so high a sphere of
thought must always be productive of good, even though
it be not the highest. And surely it is a gain to find at
last that our saint is no longer identified with doctrines
which he abhorred, nor quoted in support of creeds he
would have detested ; that future generations will be
spared the pain of seeing so glorious a name linked with
dark, unchristian teachings that were utterly foreign to
his spirit of gentleness and love ; and that we are not
likely to hear again of independence of thought, which
he would have regarded as riotous licence, nor of free-
dom of opinion, which his fidelity to the Church would
have characterised as treason, nor of a system which he
would be the first to condemn, if it condoned sin by the
pretext of fatalism, or clashed with the high voice of
conscience and the traditions of the Christian Church.
^ See Notes to tran.slation of Confessions.
MR. AUBREY DE VERE'S NEW VOLUME.^
A Study.
Our appreciation of Mr. Aubrey de Vere's poetry
depends in great measure on the mood in which we
approach him. If we have been touched by the
glamour that hangs around our highly decorated, intro-
spective modern verse, probably we shall be just a little
disappointed at lines that appeal more to sense than
sound. But if we have passed the initial surprise and
intoxication that touch sensitive minds by analysis and
self-questionings conveyed in words many-jointed, and
strung together from the Greek, it is very likely we shall
find a repose and a harmony in Mr. de Vere's poems,
that strike us as more in accordance with the canons of
true poetry than all the artificialities by which younger
poets strive to be original in these latter days.
In the subjects Mr. de Vere has chosen he has always
preferred studies of Nature and of men to idle self-ques-
tionings. If he chooses to leave the world an autobio-
graphy, and few would be more interesting, we shall
never be able to trace his mental growth and experiences
through the long series of beautiful poems he has given
to the world. There is not a trace of egoism in them
all. He has completely obliterated self. In this he has
followed the example of his master, Wordsworth ; and
if so keen a critic as Matthew Arnold can say of the
latter, " Wordsworth and Byron stand out by them-
selves. I place Wordsworth above Byron on the whole.
1 Mah Monthly, March, 1894.
191
192 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
When the year 1900 is turned, and our nation comes to
recount her poetic glories in the century which has just
then ended, the first names with her will be these,"
we may attribute the fact to Wordsworth's love of
Nature ; and we may add, that if Ireland has to make
a similar estimate of her singers, she will have little
hesitation in naming Mr. de Vere the first Catholic poet
of the century, not only to our nation, but to the world.
In the little volume now before us, Mr. de Vere goes
back to mediaeval times for those themes, Catholic and
chivalrous, in which he takes such delight. He has
done in poetry for the Middle Ages what Mrs. Jameson
has done in prose. He has taken legends or historical
deeds, and made a beautiful framework for them in
graceful and sonorous verse. He has taken even dis-
puted and controverted subjects; and boldly assuming
the Catholic view, has made them additionally at-
tractive to Catholic readers by presenting them in a
much pleasanter form than we are accustomed to in
ordinary histories. These mediaeval poems may be
divided into what are purely historical or epic, one or two
that may be called lyrical, and a few dramatic studies,
which, with the sonnets, form the most interesting
features of the volume. It was a bold attempt on the
part of Mr. de Vere to try and interest modern readers
in the fate and fortunes of the Cid. The old heroic
romances of chivalry are hardly esteemed in our day as
they were fifty years ago. The world is now not much
interested in the battlefields of the past. Knights sans
peuret sans reproche are too mythical to our hard century
to be easily believed in ; and historians of the destructive
school of criticism have been so busy in demolishing all
our cherished ideas of the chivalry and heroism of the
Middle Ages, that it is difficult to excite and retain the
attention of readers for great national legends, even
though already enshrined in the epics of the world.
Nevertheless, Mr. de Vere has been so judicious in his
selections of the legends of the Cid, and has put them so
attractively, that many will read for the first time and
MR. AUBREY DE VERB'S NEW VOLUME 193
with pleasure of the deeds of this Spanish Bayard.
And then, as we shall hereafter note more fully, Mr.
de Vere has taken in many cases the Catholic, as dis-
tinct from the national, view of our hero, and thus made
the central figure more generally interesting, whilst
adding to the picturesqueness of the details. Here are
lines that remind us of Arthur and the Kound Table : —
Three days we rode o'er hill and dale ; the fourth,
The daylight slowly dying o'er the moor,
A shrill voice reached us from the neighbouring fen,
A drowning man's. Down leaped our Cid to earth ;
And, ere another's foot had left the stirrup.
Forth fi-om the water drew him ; held him next
On his own horse before him. " 'Twas a Leper ; "
The knights stared round them ! when they sujaped that eve,
He placed that Leper at his side. The knights
Forth strode. A t night one bed received them both.
Sirs, learn the marvel ! As Rodrigo slept,
Betwixt his shoulders twain that Leper blew
Breath of strong virtue, piercing to his heart.
A cry was heard — the Cid's — the knights rushed in
Sworded ; they searched the room ; they searched the house ;
The Cid slept well ; but Leper none was found.
Who was this ? and what was the reward for a deed
which, to use the author's words, speaking of Father
Damien, preaches the doctrines of the Incarnation and
the Eesurrection more powerfully than the most eloquent
treatises ?
Thy Brother-Man am I,
In Heaven thy Patron, though the least in Heaven,
Lazarus, thy brother, who unhonoured lay,
At Dives' gate. To-day thou honourest Me :
Therefore thy Jesus this to Thee accords
That whenso'er in time of peril or pain ,
Or dread temptations dealing with the soul,
Again that strong breath blows upon thy heart,
Nor Angel's breath, that Breath shall be, nor man's,
But Breath immortal arming thy resolve.
So long as Humbleness and Love are Thine,
With strength as though the total Hosts of Heaven
Leaned on Thy single sword. The work Thou workest
That hour shall prosf)er. Moor and Christian, both,
Shall for Thee and Thy death be glorified.
13
194 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
With such a prayer and prophecy, Eodrigo passed
from victory to victory, always brave, alv^ays merciful,
invincible in battle and illustrious in peace. In the
four Idylls of this brave knight which our author gives
us, and which certainly sustain their interest to the
end, there must be of necessity many passages which
are rhetorical rather than poetic. Yet the rhetoric is
always of a high and sustained character ; and it breaks
by rapid transitions into poetry, which remind us of
many well-known passages in our author's legends of
St. Patrick and of the Saxon saints. These passages
are most frequent and most marked in the fourteen
pages marked " The Cid of Valencia ". Eloquent and
beautiful lines abound in these pages. For instance : —
The moon was drowned
In plunging storm of hail and rain and snow ;
Emerging thence it stared on wandering floods
From sea and river, and the mountain walls
Whose torrents, glimpsed but when the lightning flared,
Thundered far off.
And this might have come from the Inferno : —
Yea, as the blind they groped about the streets.
Or staggered on like drunkards ; neither knew
Each man the face of neighbour or of friend,
But gazed at him and passed ; at other times
Old enemies clasped hands but spake no word ;
And some flung forth their arms like swimmer spent
That sinks in black seas lost.
Some curious analogues in modern verse suggest
themselves to our mind in reading such lines as those
— resemblances that never occurred before to us in
reading Mr. de Vere's poems. At one moment we
think we are reading a passage from Klopstock's Mes-
siah, then there are lines that suggest long-forgotten
pages in that well-nigh forgotten poem Festus, and
again we are irresistibly reminded of certain turns of
thought and expression in the Bishop of Derry's beauti-
ful poems. But the idiomatism, to use an expressive
Greek word, of Mr. de Vere is unmistakable. We think
MR. AUBREY DE VERB'S NEW VOLUME 195
we would recognise it under a French or Italian trans-
lation.
Before passing to the higher studies, there is just one
little poem, modest and humble like the subject of it,
but on which we dwell and linger with more pleasure
than on more ambitious and eloquent themes. Perhaps
it is for memory's sake ; for there is a very clear recol-
lection in our minds of having seen this little poem in
leaflet form many years ago in the hands of an old
Franciscan Tertiary from Limerick, and of having kept
it as a treasure, and read it and re-read it until it became
creased and frayed with use, and discoloured by age.
And there was just a slight thrill of pleasure in seeing
this old acquaintance enshrined permanently in this
volume, and in knowing that we should not lose it
again. It is called St. Francis and Perfect Joy ; and
whoever possesses this volume and knows anything of
" dear St. Francis," will have this poem well mai-ked
when perhaps statelier verses are still in a state of vir-
ginal whiteness. The opening stanza runs thus ; and
whoever reads it will read it to the end : —
Blessed St. Francis in the winter time
When half the Umbrian vales were white with snow,
And all the northward vine-stems rough with rime,
Walked from Perugia down. His steps were slow,
Made slow by thought ; yet swift at times, for love
Showered o'er his musings, fired them from above.
If Mr. de Vere would repent of his resolution to make
this volume his last, and give us such beautiful metrical
renderings of the whole of the Fioretti as this, one
reader at least would bless him, and placing it side by
side with the May Carols would think he had two books
of devotion which probably he would open much oftener
than many elaborate works of high spirituality that lie
upon his shelves.
Very devotional, too, and very poetical are four hymns
developed from the writings of St. Gertrude. They
deal with high and sacred subjects; and, perhaps, for this
reason, and partly from their abstract nature, it is pos-
13*
196 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
sible they will not be so widely read as the lines on St.
Francis. But for those who love to dwell in spirit on
the inaccessible heights, and who aspire after what is
sublime as well as holy, these four hymns of praise will
be welcome reading. One can imagine how St. Augus-
tine would have prized them — the great saint who has
written so many beautiful things of God in a kindred
spirit and with equal sublimity. It is a great gift to be
able to translate into rhythmic measures the prayers of
the saints, and to add the graces of poetry to the loftiness
of such aspirations as these : —
Height inaccessible of Sovran Power ;
Unfathomed depth of wisdom hid and sealed ;
Limitless breadth of all-embracing love ;
None but Thyself can yield Thee worthy praise ;
Thou alone canst know Thyself. Our Hymns
Are as a little breeze that dies.
Or these lines to the Humanity of Christ : —
Jesus, Thou son of God, true God, true Man !
A voice from earth would join the choirs that sing
The sweet refreshment of Thy heavenly rest ;
That clear, sabbatical, and mystic clime.
Whereby Thy deified Humanity,
Its suffering past, is equally embraced.
The embowering sunset of its endless peace.
And that vivific fragrance evermore
Breathed from that underlying Eden vast,
The Bosom of the Eternal Trinity.
But we are of opinion that the two most interesting
poems in the volume are those entitled : The Higher
Purgatory and the Death of Copernicus. It is in this
kind of work that our author's genius manifests
itself fully. He is here in his own natural element.
Dealing with mediaeval records, blank, bare facts, there
is a sense of effort and labour, as of one who tries to
raise an airy structure out of gross and too solid
materials. But here Mr. de Vere passes into the
abstract — the region of pure imagination ; and it is not
difficult to see that here he is quite at home, for the two
MR. AUBREY DE VERES NEW VOLUME 197
elements are present that suit his genius — rehgion pure
and simple ; and high and abstract conceptions such as
would have dehghted a dialectician in the ages of
scholastic philosophy. It is at least curious that that
prince of modern dialecticians, Cardinal Newman, should
have chosen Purgatory, too, as a theme for his longest
poem. The subject has a singular fascination for men
of high thought ; whilst the mystery and vagueness of
that strange world poised between heaven and hell, and
inhabited by that blessed but unhappy people who have
seen God, and lost Him for a while, give free place to
imaginations that are speedily fascmated by whatever
appertains to the interests of immortal souls. Our
author reminds us that the whole gist and inatter of
this poem are taken from a treatise on Purgatory by St.
Catherine of Genoa ; and that we must not be surprised
at recognising two familiar ideas that have already
found place in the Dream of Gerontius. The poem is
in blank verse, whose metres are not quite regular, here
and there a redundant syllable being noticed ; and as
the form of a poem has a great deal to say to its artistic
excellence, we are glad to find the long lines relieved
and broken by pauses and questions that make the
whole much easier and pleasanter reading.
What land is that —
That land, majestic, mystic, wondrous, blest,
Yet heart-subduing too, and soul o'er-awing.
Where passion riots not, where love earth-soiled
Divinely blighted, withering to the root,
Leaves room for heavenly hjve ?
This idea is developed through many lines, and then
comes the second suggestion : —
Wliat clime is that
Still as the Church's Holy Saturday ?
whose peace and serenity after the gloom of Lent and
before the exultation of Easter Sunday are finely
pictured ; and this is the conclusion : —
198 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Deepest that rest
Man knows ou earth : yet deeper theirs the souls
That breathe that cleansing clime. They sinned on earth ;
They sin no more. In them that buried sin
Severed from circumstance of time and jjlace
Sleeps like a sheathed sword. Their will with God's
At last — now first — is one. Such unity
Alone could breed such rest.
Then the final question,
What grief Is that
Which, teaching man his primal greatness, .shames
His joy foregone in pleasures wed to du.st ?
And as the sorrow of our first father was swallowed up
in love, so is the grief of the holy souls steeped, though
not extinguished, in that perfect love which surrounds
them. And we should say these were the best lines in
the poem : —
Life veils from us love's greatness :
Life veils not less the greatness of high grief :
We are but trivial lovers all our life —
We are but trivial mourners. Thanks to God
Who grants us at life'.s close one Sovei'eign love.
One grief, the cm-e for all.
Our author here has an interlude — a pause to consider
the analogy between the soul's first glimpse of the Beatific
Vision at its birth, and its fuller, though still momen-
tary glance at the face of God, at the moment of death.
The effect of the first is, that eternal craving after God
of which St. Augustine spoke, et cor nostrum inquietuvi
est donee requiescat in te. Thence also come "those
winged ideas which are creation's essence ; ideas of the
Good, the True, the Fair, the Just, the Pure, the In-
finite," that form man's panoply of armour against the
evils and temptations of life, and bring him scatheless
and victorious before the face of God. We fear that
Mr. de Vere here rather closely approaches that system
of philosophy which originated with Malebranche, and
which, adopted and developed by Gioberti, became
known as Ontologism. Or, perhaps, we should rather
MR. AUBREY DE VERES NEW VOLUME 199
say that this beautiful conception belongs to that milder
system, which was favoured by Fenelon, Bossuet and
Gerdil, and which traces the origin of universal ideas
back to our first ideas of God. We merely allude to
this matter, not to introduce a metaphysical discussion
into these pages, but rather to point out an error which
has been frequently made, even by those to whom
Catholic literature might be supposed to have been
familiar. Quite lately, in one of the many laudatory
reviews which have appeared about a certain rising
poet, the remark was made, that he was seeking sub-
jects in the as yet untried fields of Catholic philosophy.
Now, every reader knows, or ought to know, that for
forty years the poet whom we are now reviewing has
been taking subject after subject, not only from Catholic
philosophy, but from Catholic theology ; that his mind
appears to be saturated with the lofty ideas that belong
to these kindred sciences, that he has achieved his
greatest successes exactly in these great departments of
human knowledge, and that, unlike the fabled Antaeus,
he has never lost strength but when he touched the
earth — that is, worldly and ephemeral subjects. In his
Legends he opens up a mine of theological subjects ;
in his May Carols he is perpetually in the society of
the first Catholic thinkers and scientists ; and even in
his shorter poems he not only affects spiritual subjects,
but enshrines the driest maxims of scholastic philosophy
in lines that form musical apophthegms of themselves.
How wise he has been in these selections we may here-
after see ; but it is either a curious ignorance of con-
temporary poetry, or a still more curious forgetfulness,
that attributes to a new poet the attribute of pioneering
all future Catholic singers into the fruitful regions of
the purely Catholic sciences.
To return. Mr. de Vere, after discussing this delicate
question of the origin of ideas, next turns to a still more
complex and debatable problem, the Mystery of Pain,
not with a view of reconcihng the existence of sorrow
with the existence of One supremely good; but with a
200 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
view of showing how great joy is consistent with great
suffering — in a word, the meaning of the Beatitude :
" Blessed are the mourners ". He puts it pithily : —
The discipline of earthly jDain suffices
To uufilm pure eyes to mysteries of grace
Withheld from worldly sight. Austerer pain
Uufilms them to the mysteries of glory :
Not servile pain, not selfish ; greater pain
Born of a greater love.
Then follows a description of what we might call the
purification and elevation of a soul to a higher level of
sanctity : and the education of all its faculties and their
fullest development until they become proportioned to
that spiritual universe which is man's destined heritage.
Finally, the extinction of self-love — the complete divest-
ment of the soul of all its selfish instincts, and the
absolute subordination of all its faculties to the supreme
will to which it is driven by irresistible impulse. Then
these folds which sin and self-love have wound around
the slumbering soul during life having dropped aside,
and only its pure ethereal essence remaining, the final
moment comes when it is admitted to the Beatific Vision.
" Man's eyes are opened : man beholds his God."
Altogether this poem is a very fine piece of spiritual
writing. The subject was difficult in itself, and difficult
of treatment, because it had already passed through the
hands of Dante and Cardinal Newman, not to speak of
lesser lights. And our author leaves the subject to
future Catholic poets, its interest increased rather than
diminished, and its importance very much enhanced
by the light his pen has thrown upon the complex
subjects that are connected with this Catholic dogma.
In the Death of Copernicus our author grapples
with a much more serious and difficult question. The
great astronomer is debating on his death-bed whether
he shall give to the world, or withhold, the work that,
out of respect for the faith of the weak, he had hidden
for thirty-six years. In the minds of the ignorant and
MR. AUBREY DE VERB'S NEW VOLUME 201
the unthinking, then as now, science was supposed to
be in conflict with faith, and their revelations to be
mutually contradictory. The dying scientist solilo-
quises that both revelations, proceeding from the same
source, must of necessity be in agreement ; but men's
minds, warped by pride, and exalting their own poor
discoveries, must perchance place in direct conflict
teachings that come from the same Divine source. But
he remembers how patient and lowly were his own
thoughts during the progress of his discoveries ; and he
recalls his nightly vigils, from the Minster Tower at
Warnia — vigils which so numbed his feet that he could
scarcely ascend the altar steps in the morning, and his
hands that he could hardly hold the chalice at the Mass.
Yet he prayed : —
If, my God,
Thou seesb my pride subdue my faculties.
Place me a witless one among those witless
That beg beneath church porches.
But this night he must make his election — to fling his
book abroad on the trackless deep, or to cast it on the
still wider sea of men's minds. But he is scrupulous
about the faith of others : and memories throng back
upon his mind of doubts and difficulties that were sug-
gested to him years ago by the timid and by the impious.
The first was a youth, daring, yet afraid to utter that
great objection against the Advent of Christ, which is
the first to suggest itself to inquiring minds.
Mankind will learn
This sphere is not God's ocean, but one drop
Showered from its spray. Came God from lieaven for that ?
Speak no more words !
It was but a passing word of a passing mood, and that
youth held the Faith; but "moods have murdered
souls ". But what is the subhme answer ? —
This earth too small.
For Love Divine ! Is God not Infinite ?
If so. His Love is infinite. Too small !
202 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
One famished bal)e meets pity more from man
Oft tliau an army slain ! Too small for Love !
Was earth too small to be by God created ?
Why then too suiall to l)e redeemed ?
The sense
Sees greatness only in the sensuous greatness ;
Science in that sees little ; Faith sees nought ;
The small, the vast, are tricks of earthly vision
To God, that Omnipresent All-in-Each ;
Nothing is small, is far.
The second sceptic is different, —
A zealot barbed with jibe and scoff still launched
At priests and kings and holy womanhood.
He puts his objection thus : —
A God, a God incarnate but for man,
That reasoning Ijeast — and all yon glittering orbs
In cold obstruction left I
Amongst our lengthened quotations, this the reply
must be the last ; but we cannot omit it : —
They that know not of a God
How know they that the stars have habitants ?
'Tis Faith and Hope that spread delighted hands
To such belief I no formal proof attests it.
Concede them peopled ; can the sophist prove
Their habitants are fallen / That too admitted,
Who told him that redeeming foot divine
Ne'er trod those spheres ? That fi-esh assumption granted.
What then ? Is not the universe a whole ?
Doth not the sunbeam, herald from the sun,
Gladden the violet's bosom ? Moons uplift
The tides ; remotest stars lead home the lost ;
Judsea was uue country, one alone ;
Not less Who died there died for all. The Cross
Brought help to buried nations ; time opposed
No bar to love ; why then should space oppose one ?
We know not what time is nor what is space ;
Why di-eam that bonds like theirs can bind the unbounded !
If eai'th be small, likelier it seems that love
Compassionate most and condescending most
To sorrow's nadir depths, should choose that earth
For love's chief triumph, missioning thence her gift
Even to the utmost Zenith I
MR. AUBREY DE VERB'S NEW VOLUME 203
We should hardly have given such extensive quota-
tions, but to remark that here our author seems to have
abandoned a very fascinating theory of a certain school
of theologians, that sin was not the sole cause of the In-
carnation, but that this great event in the history of the
world would have taken place, if man had never sinned,
in order that God might unite Himself thus more per-
fectly to His Creation. That this had been a favourite
idea of Mr. de Vere's is quite evident from that splendid
preface to the May Carols, which we commend to our
readers, theological and otherwise, as an example of
how beautifully Catholic philosophy and theology can
be rendered by a poet. We shall not do our author the
injustice of quoting it fragmentarily here, but merely
refer our readers to it, and give the following sentences
from an advocate of that sublime conception, the
Oratorian, Malebranche, to elucidate our meaning.
"Though man had never sinned," he says, " a Divine
Person would not have failed to unite Himself to the
universe, to sanctify it, to draw it from its profane
condition, to render it divine, to give it an infinite
dignity, so that God, who can only act for His own
glory, should receive a glory perfectly correspondent to
His action. Could not the Word unite Himself to the
work of God, without becoming incarnate? He was
made man ; could He not have made Himself of Angehc
nature ? It is true that, in making Himself man. He
unites Himself at the same time to two substances, and
that by this union He sanctifies all Nature. For this
reason, I know not if sin has l)een the sole cause of
the Incarnation of the Son of God." ^ To this sublime
speculation, which Mr. de Vere embodied so beautifully
in the prose of his preface, and in that exquisite carol,
Caro factum est, he now, in the verses we have quoted
above, adds the almost equally sublime speculation
of another and later school of French theologians.
This may be expressed by Fr. Gratry's theory that the
* Entretiens tsur la Metaphysique, ix., 5.
20 1 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
words of our Divine Lord : " I have other sheep v^ho are
not of this fold ; these, too, I must bring into My fold,
and there shall be one sheepfold and one Shepherd,"
may be possibly applied to the inhabited worlds of the
universe.
It seems impossible to write about poetry of this high
class without being tempted into a disquisition on theo-
logy. We have left ourselves, therefore, barely space to
say that this subhme poem branches at once into a
splendid forecast of the future of the Church, especially
the conflict and reconciliation between Eeligion and
Science. If these fine ideas had been put into eloquent
prose, of which our author is quite the master, probably
they would reach a larger number of readers. But for
the many who will read them in this form, they will
have the additional advantage of communicating know-
ledge in its most attractive guise.
Of the other poems, the pages devoted to Joan of
Arc and her marvellous history will take additional
interest from the fact of her coming beatification. The
volume closes w^ith sonnets unvaried in form, but touch-
ing quite a variety of subjects and persons. Probably
the purely poetic reader will turn to them first ; and if
he be a student of this most difficult, but most artistic
form of poetry, he will be able to make a satisfactory
comparison between Mr. de Vere and all the many
masters of the sonnet that have written in our century.
Those on Catholic art and its masterpieces have had the
greatest attraction for ourselves.
And this suggests a reflection with which we will
close this paper. The two great Italian artists who
seem to have a special fascination for even Protestant
tourists are Giotto and Fra Angelico of Fiesole. Yet
they are the two artists who painted exclusively Chris-
tian and Catholic subjects. The crucifixions of the
latter with all their boundless variety of imagery and
detail are never-failing subjects of interest for exalted
minds. And if ever the question should arise. Has Mr.
de Vere lost or gained by his exclusive devotion to
MR. AUBREY DE VERE'S NEW VOLUME 205
religion? I think we might find the answer here. It is
quite true that it is easier to write on secular than on
religious subjects. It is much easier to compose
a sonnet on the Venus Anadyomene than on the
Madonna. And such writing would unquestionably be
more popular in our days. Yet we make bold to say
that if Mr. de Vere's works are now too high, too
severe, too ascetic, or too exalted for the multitude,
they will owe their permanent place in English litera-
ture (for such a place we can promise them) to this
very fact, that they are Christian poetry and trans-
cendently religious. For if ever (and many believe the
delay will not be long) a revolution shall take place in
public opinion, especially Irish public opinion, and that
the educated classes in Ireland, rising far above the
conventional ideas they have borrowed from English
imitations and English intercourse, shall reject the Neo-
Paganism of this century with all its tawdry finery and
affected art, and a new taste be born for science that
shall be Christian, and art that shall be supersensual
and moral, then we may be assured that in Mr. de
Vere's work will be recognised in their fulness the true
constituents of legitimate poetry, the pleasure of art
and the profit of instruction ; and in Mr. de Vere him-
self a rare combination of the qualities of teacher and
singer to his age and race.
LECTUEES
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS.^
I.
As an artist requires a model for his picture or statue,
and as a musician is helpless without a key-note, so a
preacher, when he assumes for the time the role of
lecturer, finds it difficult to be close or consecutive in
his reasoning, unless he can lean on that familiar aid
and adjunct of all his discourses — a text. In casting
around lor a text for this address, I thought I could not
do better than consult the pages of one who has written
more strangely wise and more strangely foolish things
than any man of this generation — one who has been
alternately hailed as a prophet, and denounced as a
pedant and a cheat, but one who has exercised, and con-
tinues to exercise, a more powerful influence on the
young minds of this generation than any other writer
and thinker — I mean Thomas Carlyle, the Philosopher
of Chelsea.
In one of his most popular essays, in which he insists
on the nobleness and sacredness of work, he lays it
down that the primary condition of all success is a
knowledge of the work each one of us has to do in this
world. "Know thy work and do it," he says, is the
latest message that has come to us from the " Voices and
Sages," the men that have thought and spoken and
written for the well-being of mankind. And again :
" To make one spot of God's world a little brighter,
better, and happier, here is work for a god ". And
' Inaugural Addres.s at Mallow Literary Society, 11th November,
1880.
209 14
210 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
I have chosen these two extracts because I beheve that
the first contains the healthiest and safest motto for
each individual member of this Society ; and because
the second is a perfect embodiment of the ideas that
suggested the formation of this Society, and of the
principles that will actuate its founders and helpers in a
steady and uniform perseverance in the great work they
have undertaken.
That nothing in Nature is stagnant — that everything
is capable of and demands development, and that
education is second only to Nature in its effects — these
are truths that require no proof, for they are almost
axiomatic. They govern the world of matter, and, still
more, the world of mind. Nature never rests ; and its
glories and splendours, that make pale with wonder the
observer of refinement and sensibility, are not the work
of a moment, but the result of slow growth and develop-
ment, carried oat in obedience to secret but imperative
laws. Those great shining worlds that rest in the
Dome of Immensity, apparently so silent and still, have
been moulded out of nebulous and other matter, have
been subjected to the action of fire, have been and still
are the theatres of the mightiest upheavals and revolu-
tions. Stars have grown into space, have revolved in
their orbits, and have been broken into fragments, and
these in turn have resolved themselves into gases, and
these in turn have formed in the hands of the Almighty
Creator the material from which new and more beautiful
worlds have arisen. If the law of development and
perpetual change and progress did not exist, this mighty
universe, instead of being, as it is, a stately, majestic,
harmonious work, beautiful in its obedience to the un-
seen powers, would be a vast chaotic mass of matter
in collision with matter, and worlds hurled upon worlds ;
and this earth of ours would become in time a mere
slag — a cinder drifting dangerously through space,
instead of fulfilling the vision of the poet who sees —
Its growing mass,
Pelted with star-dust, stoned with meteor-balls,
Heat like a hammered anvil, till at last
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 211
Mau and his works and all that stirred itself
Of its own motion, in the fiery glow
Turns to a flaming vapour, and our orb
Shines a new sun for worlds that shall be born.
And so with our own earth. It seems so peaceful with
its pleasant green fields and shining seas, that it is diffi-
cult to believe that day after day earth and water are
changing places, the mountains are descending to the
plains, and the seas are rising above their level, and a
few centuries will behold the ships of merchants sailing
over what are now busy and populous cities, and golden
corn waving where now in impenetrable darkness the
deep-sea monsters are hiding in the mammoth forests
of the ocean. Nature never rests. Nature demands
disturbance. It will grow a foul jungle of weeds if let
alone. It is only when its breast is torn open by the
pickaxe of the miner or the plough of the husbandman
that it yields rich ores, or the richer grain that is
needed for the sustenance of men. In a word. Nature
is one vast laboratory, ever dissolving and destroying,
but ever, too, combining and creating.
If this be true of the material world, if masses inert
of themselves are moulded into form and invested with
secret, mechanical power, if even a dull brown clod,
when Nature's treatment is afforded it, becomes a centre
of fertility, teeming with life and strength and sweet-
ness, shall we not say that the same great laws hold for
us in the development of the mighty faculties with
which we are endowed? Shall it be said that man's
mind alone is barren and fruitless, or fertile only in
things that are evil ? Have you ever seriously con-
sidered the power, the strength, the swiftness, the far-
reaching dominion, the comprehensive sympathies, the
only less than infinite attributes that belong to the
mind of man ? It is the one thing that is really ter-
rible in created Nature, because whilst striving to master
all Nature's secrets, its own workings remain the most
impenetrable secret of all. That mass of grey pulp
that is hidden under our foreheads is the mightiest of
14*
212 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
natural agencies — it has forces more than electric in
invincible strength and unimaginable swiftness. Look
at the tenacity of man's memory. Kot an idea, not an
impression or experience is ever obliterated from it.
Faces are photographed on the mind, and they never
die. Impressions are stamped upon it, and it never loses
them. They may seem to be crushed out in a medley
of succeeding thoughts ; but no ! the perfume of a
flower, the echo of a song of our early days, even the
very lights and shades of a landscape, will bring back
to our minds thoughts and sensations long buried and
forgotten. For the mind folds its pictures as you would
fold a map or a panorama ; touch the secret spring or
unloose the secret cord, and memory unfolds them un-
dimmed and unfaded by time. And that other great
God-given faculty, the intellect, is yet more wonderful.
AVith the quickness of lightning it grasps an idea or a
fact, and holds it, and turns it over, and studies it even
unconsciously and runs through a train of reasoning, and
compares one fact with another, and deduces from the
comparison some great truth that was hidden away in
the bosom of Nature. It is thus we have become ac-
quainted with what are called the "AVonders of Nature " ;
it is thus that the great heavens, glittering with galaxies
of stars, have become an open scroll to the many ; it is
thus that granite rocks, and beds of gravel, and boulders
of flint, are so many books in which the geologist can
read the ages of their formations, and trace the effects of
deluges and earthquakes ; and it is thus that the student
of chemical science can resolve all things, except his
own mind, into their original elements, and create new
substances at his own will.
Like the watchers of old upon the mountains of
Chaldsea, in some remote and lonely observatory our
student of astronomy sits. He is far away from the
earth, and he works when sleep is on the eyes of men
and all things are silent. And what is his work ? He
is pursuing a truly sublime vocation. He is watching
the stars that look down upon him kindly, he is study-
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 213
ing their construction and trying to bring into system
their apparently erratic motions. He knows every
mountain and fissure and ravine in the moon as inti-
mately as the farmer knows the ridges and furrows of
his fields. He sees the seasons come and go upon the
planets, as you and I see them come and go here. He
sees where the sun shines, and where the snows fall and
gather on these far-off worlds. And all the burning
questions that agitate the minds of the milhons below
him, and all the passions that fret the heart of man are
as nothing to him —
He is as old as E'^ypt bo himself,
Brother to them that squared the pyramids ;
By the same stars he watches, and reads that page
Where every letter is a glittering world.
A lonely, desolate, solitary life ! but does it not fill us
with legitimate pride to think that it is a mind like our
own that has spanned the wide abysses of space, and
wrested their latest secret from the stars ? Isaac New-
ton saw an apple fall in his garden, and in that simple
fact his great intellect discerned the great law, up to
that time unknown, that holds the great worlds of this
universe together. A young boy sat and saw the steam
hissing and gurgling and raising the lid of a kettle. It
was a small thing, but what was the message that
small thing conveyed to the great mind that beheld it ?
Look around the world, and see every country under
heaven covered with a network of railways, every rail-
way laden with locomotives dragging men and mer-
chandise after them quicker than the wind by the same
power that stirred the lid of the kettle ; and see the
ocean, hitherto man's greatest enemy, now completely
conquered, and covered with convoys and fleets that
sweep with the most perfect security over its bosom.
What has thus revolutionised Nature '? What has con-
quered space so far, and made man perfectly inde-
pendent of those forces of which he had been so much
afraid ? A simple circumstance — but it was grasped by
a mighty mind !
214 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
This moment outside New York, in a laboratory that
would supigest to a poetic mind those things Dante saw
in his Vision of Hell, amid roaring furnaces, and horrid
electric batteries, and miles of wiring that stretch round
and round his apartments, and chain cables that would
hold the Great Eastern, and mountains of jars full of
chemicals, in darkness and solitude and smoke, there is
a student who of late years has startled the world by
new applications of scientific truth. Nature has re-
vealed some of her most wonderful secrets to him. The
world, it is true, was aware of the existence of that un-
seen but awful agent, subtle as a spirit, that is diffused
through all things, called electricity. But Edison is the
first that has made electricity the study of his life, and
that has seen how widely utilised it may be, and how
universally applied. And therefore he is threatening to
set aside all the accessories of our boasted civilisation.
The newspaper reporter will very soon take his place
with the transcriber of the Middle Ages, for the phono-
graph takes down human speech accurately w^ord for
word, and gives it back again. And he even threatens
to supersede the newspaper itself. Gentlemen of the
London Clubs last year sat at their firesides and dis-
tinctly heard the debates in the House of Commons ;
and a concert given in the Crystal Palace, London, was
heard and appreciated hundreds of miles away in
Birmingham.
Here, again, is a proof of the magic of the human
mind. But we must remember that all these miracles
of science are the result of the development of the in-
tellectual faculties — that development being the result
of hard labour and much research. "Know thy work
and do it," says Carlyle. And men like Newton and
Edison understand the truth of that maxim. Newton,
as his biographer tells us, on one occasion forgot that
he had eaten his dinner ; and Mr. Edison was married
last year, and forgot all about it three hours afterwards,
so absorbed was he in his studies.
The thoughtful philosopher of old dreamed of these
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 215
victories over Nature ; we have seen theiu. What was
a thousand years ago a fancy and a chimera, came by
degrees into the regions of probabihty, and thence into
the regions of fact. Napoleon and Hannibal boasted
that they had crossed the Alps ; we, nineteenth-century
people, have cut right through thein. We have labelled
and ticketed nearly every star in the firmament. We
have constructed new telescopes, and by their aid dis-
covered new stars, in reality new suns, the centres of
others systems immeasurably greater than our own.
Our ocean steamers cross and recross the Atlantic at a
fabulous speed. The world is girded with coils of wire,
along which the electric spark is for ever flashing,
communicating intelligence instantaneously to dwellers
under far distant skies. We have opened canals, and
let seas mingle with seas, and oceans pour their waters
into oceans. Nay, even so rapid is the march of science,
so marvellous the activity of man's mind in our age,
that when thirty years ago the Poet Laureate
Dipt into the future, far as human eye could see.
Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonders that would be.
Saw the heavens filled with commerce, argosies of magic sails,
Pilots of the purple twilight, dropping down with costly bales,
Heard the heavens iilled with shouting, and there rained a ghastly
dew
Of the nations' airy navies, battling in the central blue,
he was scoffed at as a visionary. But that vision was
fulfilled in the Franco-Prussian War, when balloons
were sent up from the German army on one side and
from the battlements of Paris on the other, and both
armies watched with interest the conflict of their navies
in the air.
Looking through all these victories over Nature gained
by the indomitable energy of those silent but best bene-
factors of their race — the students of the garret and the
closet — he who runs may read the lesson I am teaching
you to-night ; the power of man's mind when care-
fully educated and inured to constant labour and study.
216 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
and can understand the enthusiasm of the poet who
speaks of
Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new.
That which they have done but earnest of the things they mean to
do.
II.
I have now shown you that Nature needs develop-
ment, and that man's mind, when educated, is master
of Nature. You will bear with me for a moment while
I explain to ^^ou the still more extraordinary power that
man has over his fellowman, when either the Divine
gift of genius is given him, or the want of that gift is
supplied by judicious and uniform studies. And lest it
should be tedious if I confined myself altogether to
abstract truths, I shall show you what I mean by three
examples — of a preacher, an artist and a poet — and
take these examples from one city and one particular
period of time. Towards the end of the fifteenth cen-
tury a strange sight was witnessed in Florence, the
intellectual capital of Italy. In the grey dawn of the
morning for weeks in the springtime, around a pulpit
in one of the largest churches in that city, was to be
seen clothed in the garb of penitence and mourning a
vast crowd of people, the majority of whom belonged to
the better: and higher classes. They had ashes on their
heads and their feet were bare, and they held in their
hands unbleached candles, such as are used in Masses
for the Dead, and they prayed, not in the conventional
fashion, but with moans and sighs and tears that would
touch any heart. They were listening to the words of
a Dominican Friar, one who for the moment, too, had
put aside the conventional sermon, and thundered forth
words of mighty truth with all the passion of an ancient
prophet. You will say — not so wonderful after all !
But when I tell you that before that monk appeared
these people were the most sceptical, luxurious, licen-
tious people in Europe, that they spent their days and
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 217
nights in revelry, that their books of devotion were the
Pagan classics, that their houses were covered with
statues of gods and goddesses that they almost wor-
shipped, that they spared no money to procure relics of
Pagan times, and that they considered themselves the
most advanced, refined, aesthetic people in Europe, you
will agree with me in thinking that if ever the empire of
a great mind over lesser minds was exhibited, it was
here. But Savonarola went farther. He made that
proud and sensitive people strip their halls and corridors
of their fairest ornaments. He made the Florentine
savans bring their books and statutes and pictures to
the public square of the city. He made the Florentine
ladies bring their lutes and guitars, and all the acces-
sories of the Oriental magnificence in which they lived.
He piled all these treasures in the centre of the square,
covered the pyre with gunpowder, burned it without
remorse, and in its smoke beheld the ghost of a false
art-worship — in reality Pagan worship — depart.
I cannot help mentioning that three centuries later
another Dominican, Lacordaire, stood in the pulpit of
Notre Dame, Paris. His audience consisted of 5,000
Parisian Atheists. They came to scoff and blaspheme ;
but he hterally took away their breath by the magic of
his eloquence, and when they could speak, it was to
utter an unconscious profession of faith, for looking on
his inspired countenance, and hearing his inspired words,
they cried out with one voice : "II voit Dieu ! II voit
Dieu ! "— " He sees God ! He sees God ! "
A few years after Savonarola had crushed the Pagan-
ism of Florence, a poor artisan entered that city. A
huge block of marble, belonging to the City Fathers,
but rejected by them as worthless, was lying outside the
walls. After much trouble this wandering artist ob-
tained possession of it and built a shed over it. Why ?
Because he believed that an image, an idea of his own
mind, was embedded in the rock, and he was deter-
mined to find it. He went to work, and so fierce was
his energy that he, with chisel and hammer, cut away
218 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
as much material as three labom'crs in a day. At night
he put a candle in his cap, and worked into the small
hours of the morning. At last he found his idea, and
left it without a word to the City Fathers. They took
it and called it the wonder of their own age, and to
this day, standing on the gates of their city, it is the
pride and glory of the Florentines. It is the famous
statue of the youthful David, in the act of smiting the
Philistine giant, and that poor artist was Michael
Angelo ! He went straight from Florence to Kome,
built himself a scaffold in the Sistine Chapel, and from
the top of that scaffold, stretched at full length day by
day for three years, he painted those wonderful frescoes
that are still the first attraction in the Eternal City.
Michael Angelo was a genius — one of these rare minds
for whom Nature strikes a special mould ; but he under-
stood the philosophy of education and of work. Even
at the age of ninety, the age of second childhood to
most men, he was found brush in hand before a picture
of the "Dead Christ," and whilst thus engaged he
turned his face to the wall, and died.
About two centuries before Michael Angelo appeared,
a fierce pohtical fight took place in Florence. It arose
out of one of those hereditary feuds that were so com-
mon among ancient States, but which are unheard of in
these days of broader ideas and higher civilisation. But
one, then unknown to his people, was driven by the
dominant faction from the city, and like all proud minds
he found refuge in solitude, and forgot " the schoolboy
rage " and vindictiveness of his countrymen in the vision
that his great mind conjured up, and which he has
framed in verse to charm and fascinate and terrify the
world. His biographer tells us that he grew "lean
from mighty labour," and there cannot be a doubt that
this great work of his created a profound impression on
his own mind, for we know that to the end of his life
he was silent, solitary and sad. This was Dante, the
greatest of all poets after Shakspeare — Dante forgotten
and neglected by his countrymen even after death, but
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 219
now worshipped by them with all the fervour of ItaHan
enthusiasm. For five centuries his Divina CovimecUa
has been acknowledged as the great national classic.
Its strong poetic expressions have passed into the
homely but graphic language of the people, his pictures
of heaven have been made the favourite subjects of
painting and sculpture, and his awful descriptions of
hell, terrible in their realism, have been utilised by
poets and essayists so far, that they would have lost
their awful significance if the majesty of genius did not
make them ever fresh and original. And his fame has
passed into other countries. There is scarcely any im-
portant work issued from the press at the present day
in which allusion is not made to Dante's poem. He
illustrates oratory, poetry and fiction ; and that weird
vision of his will carry liis name side by side with that
of William Shakspeare to the minds of all future gen-
erations, when lesser poets shall have passed for ever
from the memories and traditions of men. Mr. Lowell,
one of the first of American litterateurs, speaking the
other day to a society like our own in London, said
that no matter how extensive the range of our reading
may be, we know nothing of poetry until we have
studied and mastered that vision of Dante. Here is
fame ! Here is mind powder ! The petty despots and
tyrants of that day, the heads of the faction that ex-
pelled him from their city, are long since forgotten —
their ashes are
Blown about tlie desert dust.
Or buried in the iron hills,
while the vision seen by their victim is the one object
before the eyes of the cultured thinkers of an age that be-
lieves that Guelph and Ghibclline alike were barbarians in
their brute power and ignorance. If ever the inmiortality
of genius was proven, it was here — Dante speaks of the
men of the nineteenth century, who venerate and wor-
ship him, as he spoke of the men of the fourteenth cen-
tury, who made him an outcast and a beggar ; and
220 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Fircnze la Bella, his own l)eautiful but ungrateful city,
knows that when its own fame has departed as the
home of all that is choice and rare in art, it will still be
remembered in the annals of literature as the cradle of
Italj^'s greatest poet. Its wild threat, long since bitterly
repented of, remains fulfilled: "Dante wnll not return
hving or dead ". A stately cenotaph is the eternal re-
minder to Florence that the dust of their poet is enshrined
among strangers at Ravenna.
Coming home to England, is William Shakspeare
dead ? No. His works live after him, and influence
the minds of thousands and millions who linger over
them, and study that subject which is always attractive
— the passions, hopes, fears and eccentricities of men.
From his grave he stretches forth his hands through all
time, holding the mirror up to Nature ; and in that
mirror most men look for a true insight into their own
hearts, and into the thoughts of other men. That
wonderful mixture of madness and philosophy in Ham-
let, — the despair of all actors, the passion and super-
natural character of the tragedy of Macbeth, the madness
of King Lear, the pitiful fate of Desdemona, will fasci-
nate readers and spectators as long as the speeches from
Julius Caesar will be the staple subject for recitation in
Colleges and Academies. Kean and Kemble, Foote and
Siddons, have, from time to time, cleared the stage of
minor plays, and brought the colossal genius of Shak-
speare before the pubhc. In our days Henry Irving
and Barry Sullivan have paid their tribute to the
memory of the immortal bard, and have been well
rewarded in crowded houses and large receipts : and to
show the catholicity of Shakspeare's genius, the pro-
prietor of a low theatre in one of the London suburbs
last year put aside for a while his nigger melodies and
fast dances, introduced Shakspeare to the coal-porters
and dock-labourers, and had the pleasure of seeing that
true genius is always universal in its sympathies. The
spirit of Shakspeare was worshipped by the hard
hands and lusty voices of the multitude, as well
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 221
as by the dainty gloves and tame applause of the
Lyceum.
I could multiply examples indefinitely. I could show
that the mind of man has even more power over the will
of nations than the wills of individuals. I could appeal
to United Germany as a proof of the influence of poets
and philosophers, not only over their own generation,
but even over the future destinies of their countries, for
it was the poems and philosophy of Goethe and Schiller
that changed the whole current of thought in the Ger-
man universities, and through their students permeated
the masses of the people, and created the ambition, now
realised, of being a united people, and the first military
power in the world. For we must remember that the
Germans are not only the best soldiers, but also the best
students, and there is scarcely a private soldier in the
German forces that does not know more of military
science than the best trained officer in the English
army.
Again, cast your eyes across the Atlantic and see the
greatest wonder of modern times — a state, composed of
men of all nationahties, grown in thirty years to be the
first power in the world — first in manufactures — first in
arts — first in the enterprise of its people — every day
widening its empire, and promising to be, before the dawn
of another century, the exact counterpart of the old Roman
empire in dominion, and wealth, and intelligence, but in-
finitely superior in the broad freedom and humanity of
the ideas that prevail amongst its people and are reflected
from the people on the Government, What is the cause of
all this ? What, but liberty of thought freely and whole-
somely developed? America is the living proof of the
truth of the first axiom in political science : " Freedom
of thought is the first element of civilisation ".
And taking an example from our own country, if at
the present day there is a stronger feeling of patriotism
and nationality amongst us than at any former period in
our history, is it not to be attributed to our superior
education, to the great minds that have thought and
222 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
spoken for us, and to the glorious voices that have poured
their songs for freedom into the hearts of the people ?
Beranger kept alive in France the spirit of devotion to
the Napoleonic djaiasty years after its first great founder
had perished ; and it is not too much to say that the
poets and orators of 1848, Thomas Davis, Charles Gavan
Duffy, Clarence Mangan, Thomas Francis Meagher,
Speranza and the rest, had quite as much to do in keep-
ing alive, with renewed vigour and vitality, the spirit of
Irish nationality. In a word, we must change that old,
fast-rooted idea that we learned long ago in political
geography, that there are five great powers in Europe
— great in their armies and navies — great because pre-
pared to butcher one another at a moment's notice. The
world is beginning to have clearer ideas on these matters
— more truthful ideas of silent agencies that are at work,
and whose work is every day becoming more visible
because more successful. The five great powers, not of
Europe but of the world, now are the memory of man,
the will of man, and the intellect of man, and the voice
and the pen as their agents and exponents.
It is not necessary to put the reverse of the picture
before you. Nature's laws are not to be violated.
Nature retahates whenever it is abused or neglected.
If man neglects the cultivation of fields, soon he will
have a foul jungle of weeds breeding pestilence ; and if
man neglects the cultivation of his mind, very soon it
will become the receptacle of everything that is coarse
and evil. If you need proof of this look around the
asylums, jails, reformatories and penitentiaries of the
world ! What has filled them ? Ignorance. What has
made society expel their inmates, and put them under
restraint, as dangerous to its well-being and order?
Ignorance. Ask the governors, chaplains and other
officials, what is the cause of the moral insanity that
forces criminals to set their faces against their fellow-
men, and violate every law with the certainty of being
summarily punished ? Ignorance, they will answer, and
neglect of early education. Ask the political economist
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 223
of the day and the men who have studied sanitary
science why diseases are propagated, and future gen-
erations punished for the neglect or crime of one man ?
They will tell you it is ignorance. For next to the great
primal curse, the one evil that haunts our race is the
neglect of these means which are given us to withdraw
ourselves from that curse, or change it to a blessing.
What is true of individuals is also true of whole
nations. Wherever the masses of the people are allowed
to remain in ignorance, wherever the Arts are without
favour or patronage, wherever Science is shunned and
enterprise undeveloped, there is slowness, backward-
ness, discontent and revolution. And the most power-
ful weapon at all times in the hands of the despot has
been the enforced ignorance of the people. Whenever
it became necessary to stamp out the spirit of a nation,
the tyrant has stifled the voices of its patriots in prison,
has checked the freedom of the press, and has taken
away from the rising generation the means of education.
So it was in Ireland. Because she was independent,
because she repudiated any connection, religious or politi-
cal, with England, because she aspired after her own
freedom, her moral and intellectual teachers were per-
secuted, the priest and schoolmaster were proscribed,
and the " oldest, the most acute, subtle and speculative
race in the world " ^ was reduced by the operation of
merciless laws to a state that would have bordered on
barbarism, were it not for the high principle and the un-
conquerable spirit of the people. Dungeons, gibbets
and racks are nothing. Men can always despise them.
But what hope is there when the voice of a nation is
stifled, and the mind of a nation paralysed ?
III.
I have dwelt a long time on this matter, because I
wish to impress these great truths upon your minds.
^Cardinal Newman.
224 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
It is easy to perceive their application. Here is your
work — here is 5'our duty — your duty to yourselves, and
to the two great communities to which you belong — the
Catholic Church and the Irish people. You see now that
if you do not develop your faculties by study and reflec-
tion, you are violating the fundamental laws of Nature.
You can see, too, that, by obeying those laws, you
are protecting yourselves from unwholesome thoughts
and evil passions, and filHng your minds with every-
thing that is pure and high and noble. Educate your-
selves, and I promise you the reward that comes from
all labour — the consciousness that you have done your
duty, and the intense satisfaction of acquiring know-
ledge. When an architect has erected a stately church
does he not feel a glow of satisfaction in thinking that
it was his mind conceived the idea and his hands
executed it ; and that men in after times, admiring its
even proportions and stately dimensions, will say, " This
is the work of a great and a thoughtful mind " ? When
the farmer, after the labour and hardships of the spring,
sees his work fructifying in autumn harvests of green
crops and golden wheat, has he not the satisfaction of
knowing, not only that it will increase his wealth, but
that it is his work and Nature's work combined? So
with a student ; and you will understand what I mean
if ever you have waded through a difficult problem in
science, or if after many painful efforts you can strike
off some piece of music on flute or violin or piano.
Knowledge is power ; but knowledge also is pleasure, the
keenest and highest and best of pleasures. I have often
thought that I would sacrifice a great deal to be able to
sit at that beautiful ' organ in our own church, and
thunder along the aisles the glorious symphonies of
Mozart and Beethoven.
Seek after knowledge therefore. Take up some one
subject, scientific or literary, and master it. Form
your tastes. Acquire a love of whatever is beautiful in
poetry, or science, or art, or literature, and you will
have in your possession a talisman against all physical
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 225
and mental pain. Many a dark, tedious, and lonely-
hour will be lighted and made happy by good books.
When Charles Dickens was writing the Pickwick
Papers, one poor invalid amongst many, bedridden and
afflicted with an incurable disease, wrote to him again
and again to expedite the issue of his tale, "because,"
said he, "when following the career of Pickwick, or
laughing at the witticisms of Sam Weller, I never feel
pain ". Charles Dickens' little volume was worth more
to him than all the prescriptions of these necessary
evils — called Doctors. Acquire, then, a taste for litera-
ture. I mean for high-class literature ; I do not mean
the gutter literature of the unclean, obscene Babylon —
London ; acquire a taste for literature, and you have a
charm against everything evil. The troubles, vexations,
and disappointments that are incident to our condition
here can be defied, because forgotten, by going out from
your own minds for a while into the new world that
the philosopher or the scientist, the historian or the
novelist will show you. And insensibly you will become
better and wiser men. A stone is dropped into the
water, and in a moment it is hidden away and unseen.
But far above on the surface there is circle after circle,
widening and widening until they strike on the shore.
So with the acquisition of new ideas. They pass away
and are forgotten, but they always leave an impression
behind them that grows wider and deeper and more
deep. For every new idea is a new growth. Read and
read, and every moment as you read, even for pleasure,
your mind is developing and expanding and becoming
illuminated, until by degrees you see yourselves becom-
ing wiser, more thoughtful, truer and better men, with
greater confidence in yourselves, and trusted more
largely by others.
It must not be lost sight of either that no one can be
so completely isolated from his fellowmen, as to be able to
establish a republic in his own mind so independent that
he can be heedless of the shame or glory that reflects upon
others from his actions. Now it is our pride and hap-
15
226 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
piness that we belong to the most ancient and perfect
organisation that exists in this world at present ; that
we are, to use the famihar but striking language of
Macaulay, members of a Church "that saw the com-
mencement of all the governments and all the ecclesi-
astical estabhshments that exist in the world, and is
destined to see the end of them all — that was great and
respected before the Saxon set foot in Britain, and before
the Frank had crossed the Khine, when Grecian elo-
quence still flourished at Antioch, and idols were wor-
shipped in the temple of Mecca ". From that Church
we have received innumerable blessings, and it behoves
us to pay back a fihal debt of gratitude by making our-
selves such worthy members of it, that our intelligence
and advancement even in secular knowledge shall be
accepted as a refutation of the ancient calumny that the
Cathohc Church is the enemy of human progress. It
is assuredly a far-fetched accusation to attribute to the
mother of arts, the custodian of all ancient literature,
the patroness of the sciences, a spirit of hostility to the
advancement of human interests. But the charge is
made and we must refute it — refute it by our knowledge
of the religion we profess, and even by our knowledge
of all those subjects that are considered essential to a
liberal education. For when men of different creeds
meet they do not care to launch at once into religious
controversy, but measure one another by conversation
on all those branches of knowledge that are supposed to
be included in the curriculum of the studies even of
self-educated men. And then they slide gradually into
the one subject that has always a supreme interest for
the thoughtful — the subject of the human soul and its
destinies, and all the mysteries that circle round the
one great central question. And this leads me to speak
with sorrow of the neglect of the study of CathoHc
theology that is so common amongst us. Theology is
justly called the queen of all the sciences, partly because
of its sacred subjects, and partly because it is so inti-
mately connected with all other sciences. Now there
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 227
is an idea prevalent amongst many that theology is
only for priests, that laymen have no need of it, and
thus it happens that, though most Catholics have clear
ideas of the principles, doctrines, and discipline of the
Church, very few have that detailed knowledge that
comes from judicious, well-regulated and sustained
study. This should not be. Cathohcs should take a
pleasure in studying those subjects that have had such
an attraction for the greatest minds. And to take a
utilitarian view of the matter, we must remember that
we are by compulsion a migratory race, that it is not
given to all to die in sight of the "fair hills of holy
Ireland," but that hundreds and thousands are com-
pelled to go amongst the stranger, and to be subjected
to the critical glance of free-thinkers, who identify every
Irishman with Eome and Catholicity. Is it not well
that we should show them that our religion is not a
superstition, and that our love for it is not founded on
ignorance ; that if we have been denied the blessings of
education for seven centuries, we had amongst us the
great civilising agent of the world— the Catholic Church ;
that she supplied what our rulers denied ; and that at
any moment we are prepared to enter the lists even
against trained controversialists, and take our stand on
the eternal principles of truth and justice to prove the
teaching of the Church to be in all things consistent
with the eternal verities of God ? This is what most of
our fellow-countrymen have done in the large populous
centres of America and England. But many, too, from
want of education have betrayed themselves and their
country, and prevaricated, because, finding themselves
helpless before ridicule, they were made ashamed of the
religion which they were unable to defend.
Again, we owe a duty to the grand old race from
which we have sprung, of whose history, dark and
melancholy though it be, we are so proud, and of whose
future we have such great and well-founded bopes. It
is a subject which it is difficult for any Irishman to
approach without emotion. When we consider what
15 *
228 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
our race has suffered, and why it has suffered, the
ferocity with which its enemies sought to destroy it,
and its unflinching adhesion through the bitterest trials
to the great principles of nationality and religion, wc
cannot help thinking that sooner or later the world at
large will do it justice, and that the impartial historian
of the future will have for his brightest page the record
of the sufferings of our people for the highest and holiest
principles that can govern the mind and stir the heart
of man. Side by side with this fidelity to principle, the
distinguishing characteristic of our race has always been
a thirst for knowledge, a love for learning. It was so
in times of old when the halls of Bangor and Lismore
were thronged with students from all parts of the Con-
tinent, and Ireland held up, undimmed and unex-
tinguished, the lamp of learnmg that had flickered and
died out of Europe. It was so even under the penal
laws, which proscribed learning even more rigidly than
religion, and books were studied, where the Mass was
read, under the friendly shade of the rock, or far out on
the bleak and unfrequented moor. And it is so now
when, all disabiHties being removed, our people are free
at last to indulge the national passion for knowledge.
I do not believe that any race of men in the world could
have made such progress in learning as the Irish in the
fifty years of their freedom. In a period of time that
would be required by any other nation to shake them-
selves free from the habits and instincts of serfdom, the
Irish people have sprung into all the privileges and all
the acquired tastes and attributes of free men. Even
within the last ten years the ambition of the people has
run far ahead of their resources. The learning and
accomphshments, that ten years ago were supposed to be
out of reach of the multitude, are now considered
utterly inadequate to the wants of the multitude.
Students are now familiar with subjects that were
formerly the exclusive property of the professor. The
demand is far beyond the supply. The cry of the dying
Goethe for " More light ! more light ! " is now the cry
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 229
of the Irish people — more light to understand them-
selves, their rights, their wrongs, and their power — more
light
to cleave a path to right
Through the mouldering dust of ages,
more light till at last Ireland resumes her old privilege
of enhghtening the world, and, holding up the beacon
lights of faith and knowledge, takes her rightful place
amongst the nations of the earth in the vanguard of
human progress.
It is to make you, gentlemen, worthy of yourselves,
worthy of your religion, and worthy of your country,
that this Institute has been estabhshed. We know the
vast importance that attends the education of young
men, we know what a power they are in every com-
munity, what great influence they wield for good or for
evil ; and in inviting you to join this Institute, we have
hopes that through your assistance we shall, in the
words of Carlyle, " Make this little spot of God's world
a little brighter, better and happier". We utterly dis-
claim the intention of making this Institute a mere
place of amusement, where a few hours may be spent
with pleasure, but without profit. We have a higher
ambition. We desire to make it the means of supply-
ing to you a knowledge of all those subjects that are
interesting to the modern world, and are familiar to the
minds of educated men. We hope by monthly lectures
to create a taste for such studies, and by monthly de-
bates to train you to reason closely and logically, and
to express your thoughts with accuracy and ease. In
a word, to create a taste for literature, to foster, en-
courage and develop talent, and to engraft on the
enthusiasm and subtlety of the national character a
serious and earnest habit of thought ; here is our work,
and with God's blessing we shall do it. You will per-
ceive that, whilst our Institute is thoroughly Catholic,
we shall not impose on our members any rigid rule of
religious observances. We have already in the parish
230 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
two Confraternities that supply all the religious wants
of the people. Wo earnestly desire that all the members
of this Institute should become members of the Men's
Confraternity, and it is with that hope wo have refrained
from making our rules in that respect so exacting as
they would otherwise have been. And now one word
about our future.
It is supposed by many that one of our national faults
is a certain fickleness, a want of perseverance in any
work we undertake. I cannot, in the face of one fact
already mentioned, receive such a doctrine. I have
said that we alone of all the peoples of the earth have
been steadfast and faithful to principle. We alone of
all nations have not apostatised. We have taken as
our watchword the words of our Divine Master in the
desert, when all the kingdoms of the world were offered
Him as a bribe : " Get behind Me, Satan ! " And that
word has been transmitted from father to son, and has
come rolling along the centuries to us, strengthened and
intensified by every profession of faith bravely uttered
by the agonised but strong hearts of our martyred
people. In some respects it is true we are careless ;
but it is because up to this time we had so little to be
careful about. Such was the answer of Father Burke
to Mr. Froude. But give our people a reason and a
motive for constant and sustained action, and they will
be as determined in the pursuit of an object as any other
race. I have no hesitation in saying that such a reason
and such a motive is supphed to us ; and I have just as
little hesitation in sajdng that you recognise it, and are
determined that it will be at least no fault of yours if
this Institute shall not fulfil the splendid promises it
makes. We commit it with the fullest confidence to
you. Difficulties of course will arise ; we shall not turn
aside from them, but surmount them. If weak and
timorous members shall become disheartened, we shall
treat them as the captain of a merchantman treats
women and children in an hour of peril. We shall
hand them out with all respect. But we ourselves will
IRISH YOUTH AND HIGH IDEALS 231
remain with the vessel to the last. And we shall be
sustained by the consciousness, that humble and cir-
cumscribed though it be, we are engaged in a subhme
and sacred work that is sanctioned and encouraged
by wise and thoughtful men, consecrated by our own
motives, and blessed by anticipation of the happy re-
sults that will accrue from it to ourselves, our friends,
our faith, and our country.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS.
I.
There is a poet in America named Walt Whitman,
considered inspired by his friends, half insane by his
enemies, and he has written a certain chaunt, called
Salut ail monde, in which he takes a most comprehensive,
and, at the same time, minute view of the world, and all
its wonders of men, and salutes all at the same time as
his brothers. I often wonder what he would feel, could
he stand on the quays of Queenstown, and see the float-
ing cities that glide day after day into our port, and as
silently depart, each with its freight of humanity gathered
from every part of the civilised and even uncivilised
world. To any refleciive mind it is a strange and sug-
gestive sight. What the mind of the poet conceived is
brought directly under our eyes. Men of all nations
under heaven are gathered together in those huge black
vessels that steal into our harbours every morning, and
as silently steal away at midday or in the evening ; and
many of those visitors of ours represent not only their
own individuality, but are the originators of ideas
which are revolutionising the world — the high priests
of new philosophical systems — the centres towards
which thousands, a}^ even millions, are looking, very
often in vain, for inspiration and light. In fact, if we
had time or taste for these things, our transatlantic
steamers would give us a perfect panorama of all the
leaders of thought in every department of science, art,
philosophy, and even rehgion.
I will, therefore, take you in imagination on the dtck
232
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 233
of one of these ocean steamers ; and on a little group
of men we will make a brief meditation.
We move up in the tender and attach ourselves to the
mighty ship which rises dark and gloomy from the
waters, its black mass only broken by the small circular
lights that speak suggestively of the terrible buffeting
and drenching the good ship will have to bear before
she anchors at her destination. And suddenly a sight
breaks upon us which we cannot soon forget. For, as
we touch the vessel, its dark profile is broken by the
light of a thousand human faces, on each of which is
written that strange, anxious look which you notice in
persons who are leaving accustomed modes of life and
embarking on new, and perhaps perilous, enterprises.
And what a medley ! What strange pranks Mother
Nature plays with "the human face divine"! What
mighty ingenuity she shows in moulding and casting
the countenances of men, so that there is no mistaking
one individual for another ! Lean and hungry Itahan
faces, from which centuries of poverty have beaten out
the gi'and old Eoman type of feature ; calm and heavy
Teutonic faces that speak of easy lives and plenty of
lager beer ; the high and angular Norwegian face that
has been buffeted and withered by the storms which
sweep up the fiords and gulfs of their rugged coasts ;
here the face of an Armenian, who stood a month ago
on the most sacred soil that feet ever pressed ; and here
the olive features and white burnous of the Arab, who
was baked a few weeks ago under the pyramids, and is
now shivering in the cold east wind that is churning
the waters into yellow foam. And here side by side are
the two races, whom a strange destiny has linked to-
gether but whom Fate has kept sundered apart as
widely as pole from pole — the tali and muscular Saxon,
and the little, active, nervous form of the black-eyed
and black-haired Celt. And here, too, are their descen-
dants — the mixed race of Americans, who have inherited
all the thoughtfulness of the Saxon and all the bright-
ness of the Celt, atid whose pale features and eager eyes
234 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
speak the national character — bright, alert, and specula-
tive.
But we are moving. You can see the ridges fall
away in white foam from the keen prow of the ship as
the screw churns and tosses the waters on the stern.
" Cast off" comes from the bridge high over our heads ;
and whilst the noble vessel moves forward in silent dig-
nity on her course, the little tender sheers off at an
angle to make the circuit homewards. And now I be-
come suddenly aware that whilst I am soliloquising, I
am in the midst of many tragedies, and probably, ex-
cepting the captain and the crew, the most unconcerned
spectator on board. All around are very sad faces,
filled with a yearning look towards the land they are
leaving. Even the blue-black eyes of the merry Celt
are filmed and clouded as they look for the last time,
perhaps, on the green hills and purple mountains of
Inisfail. Here is a lady whose society training in the
most rigid conventionalism cannot withal prevent her
hands from trembling, and her eyes from growing red
with weeping. And here is a stalwart athlete trying to
look supremely indifferent, but I notice some strange
moisture gathering under his eyelids ; and I know, if I
spoke to him, his voice would quiver and break in his
effort to reply. But it is no time now for useless re-
grets. The vessel of their fortunes and hopes is already
far upon the waters. The grim shadows of Carlisle
Fort frown upon her ; and now she glides before the
sunny walls of the lighthouse, and now she turns her
broadside to the bay. She is looking straight to the
west, walking the waters towards the Empire Republic,
the mother of many nations. A thousand hearts are
pulsing beneath her flag — each with its marvellous his-
tory of the past, its rich, beautiful dreams of the future.
The stars are not more lonely in their orbits than these
human hearts — each with its secrets sealed to all eyes
but God's. The great wings of mighty storms are win-
nowing and sweeping the Atlantic before them. Billows
are rolling towards them from far latitudes. Yet not
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 235
a single soul has a fear of reaching the promised land in
safety. This little world — this microcosm on the waters
— what is it but a type of humanity and the world ?
Or what is the world and humanity but a ship in the
ocean of space ?
However, it is not multitudes but individuals we have
come to see — not races, but marked types and representa-
tives of races — not the hoi polloi who fret their little
hour upon the stage and sink into obscure graves, but
the anakes andron — the kings of men, they who are
stirring the great heart of the world with impulses that
issue in healthy reform, or unhealthy revolution. And
fortunately there are a few of these chosen minds here
amongst our passengers. Men who, from the dark
recesses of laboratories and museums, have strengthened
a hundredfold the hands of their fellowmen, have
annihilated distance on the globe, and tamed the terrible
agents that stand at the beck of untamed Nature.
Men who, from platforms, have thundered forth the
ancient, but ever new, principle of a common humanity,
and the right of every chikl of Adam to a place on this
planet, with air enough to breathe, and room enough to
swing his arms in — men who, by their words, have
touched the great heart of the world, and made hoarse
voices cheer, and brawny hands to strike approval, and
tough hearts to vibrate with new emotions of revealed
strength and power, and a possible happiness that may
be far off, but yet shall be reached — poets and sages,
patriots and dilettanti, political, scientific, and social
revolutionists are here — and we shall just look at them,
and then let them speak for themselves.
This age of ours is an age of revolutions. There is
not a single branch, even of a single science, that has
not been studied and investigated, with the result that
our most carefully formed ideas even on scientific sub-
jects have been obliged to undergo a complete trans-
formation. Another peculiarity is, that there are
speciahsts in every branch of science, art and literature ;
and that certain branches of science and art become the
236 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
fashion at certain periods, and exclude all others in the
public -mind as effectually as a new fashion in dress
excludes those that are considered antiquated. And,
again, as Solomon said, "there is nothing new under
the sun," so there is scarcely a fashion in art or a dis-
covery in science that was not quite familiar to the
ancient Hellenists, who, under the warm sky of Greece
and by the pleasant waters of the Mediterranean, were
making daily pleasure of things, which in our days are
the exclusive property of the highest circles of wealth
and intelligence. For example, if there were one thing
the ancient Greeks worshipped more than another, it
was the Beautiful. What they called the to Kalon was
the Divinity, whom they worshipped with all the passion-
ate adoration of natures into which the Sun God had
stricken his fire. The Beautiful m Nature — the Beauti-
ful in mind and soul — the firmament glittering with
stars, the meadows glittering wiiYx flowers, the wide
levels of the sea glittering under the sunshafts — the
dark eyes of men and women glittering under darker
eyebrows ; all these to these children of Nature were
feasted on and worshipped as types and symbols of some
rarer Beauty, unseen but yet to be revealed. These
wonderful old Greeks have passed away ; but here in the
midst of our nineteenth-century civihsation is an apostle
of aestheticism, and aesthetics or the science of the Beauti-
ful is once more the fashion of men. You see over there
leaning against the bulwarks of the vessel, a tall and
dark young gentleman, with a huge sunflower in his
buttonhole. He is gazing on the setting sun as if this
were his last evening upon earth, and his eyes are
dazzled with the lane of light that stretches to the
horizon. He is the son of a Dublin oculist, and of a
lady who sang the fiercest and loveliest battle-odes of
that sad, that glorious period in Irish history which we
call '48. He is, without doubt, the best ridiculed young
man that has come before this cynical age. He is now
going to be dreadfully disappointed with the Atlantic,
and his mission is to evangelise the Americans with two
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 237
lectures on art that shall be repeated again and again,
until the world grows tired even of laughing at him,
and his adopted country takes him back to her bosom.
Yet, although his mission shall be a failure, we must
not suppose that there is not a deep substratum of truth
underlying a vast superstructure of absurdity ; and by
and by you shall hear another who has for fifty years
preached much the same doctrines with far different
success, and who, with many eccentricities, has won for
himself a homage that is rarely given to a living celebrity.
The next department in the ascending scale is social
science ; and here, walking arm in arm along the lee
side of the ship, are two men whose ideas in some
things are identical, and on others widely different, and
who have said many things that have stirred many
hearts. One is from San Francisco, and he used to be
called a prophet by his admirers ; the other is from the
County Mayo, and during the greater part of his life he
has been styled a rebel and a felon. In physique they
are not unlike. Dark and determined men, with deep
eyes flashing under bushy eyebrows, but the right sleeve
of the one hangs tenantless — the arm was left some
years ago in the steel meshes of an English factory.
The education of the one was matured under the bright
dazzling sun of Cahfornia ; the education of the other
was finished in a convict's dress out on the bleak wastes
of Dartmoor and in the blinding quarries of Portland.
He has seen some terril)le things, and has studied the
strange riddle of humanity deep down in awful depths
of suffering. Of him it might be said what the people
of Verona used to say of Dante : —
Eccovi I'uom ch'e stato all' Inferno.
And hence men listen to him as they listen to no other,
for they know how true is that saying of Goethe's : —
Who never ate his bread in sorrow,
Who never spent the darksome hours
Weeping and watching for the morrow,
He knows you not, ye unseen powers.
238 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
But lest it should be tedious to paint for you portraits
of all the different representatives of human thou^jht
who paced the deck this spring afternoon, it will suffice
to say that there was scarcely a single fantasy of modern
thought, sensible or whimsical, reasonable or extra-
vagant, that had not a disciple here. Followers of
Herbert Spencer, who has reproduced in our time the
ancient Athenian worship of the "unknown God" —
followers of Frederic Harrison, who disagrees with
Herbert Spencer, and takes great trouble to tell the
world that Agnosticism is a very different thing from
Positivism — a very considerable number of believers in
the "evolution theory" and the Simian origin of man
— a large gathering of latter-day infidels who are trying
to resuscitate the ancient theories of Epicurus and
Democritus — a few ladies who belong to the new sect of
Theosophists, and talk glibly about what they call
"esoteric Buddhism" — and moving here and there
3^oung intellectual Americans, fresh from the German
universities, and holding all European philosophers
very cheap compared with the humanitarianism and
pantheism of their beloved master, Kalph Waldo Emer-
son. And, if you ask me what could have brought such
representative men together, I will ask you to believe
that they were en route for Montreal, where the last
session of the British Association was held.
It is growing chill, and we descend to the saloon.
Just as we enter, a voice, with a foreign accent, ex-
claims in conclusion of some interesting conversation : —
" Vor warts ! Vor warts ! This is the watchword of our
century. Does not your own Poet Laureate proclaim it
to you — even to you, conservative Englishmen, im-
movable as the pyramids, insensible as their granite ? —
Not in vain the distance beacons, forward, forward let us range.
Let the great world spin for ever down the ringing grooves of
change.
Through the shadow of the globe, we sweep into the outer day.
Better fifty years of Europe than a cycle of Cathay." ^
^ Locksley Hall.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 239
"Yes," said a deep, melodious voice that came float-
ing down along the table. " Yes ! forward is the cry —
but whither? "
All looked up in amazement, and saw a venerable man,
whose high forehead, clad in the honours of seventy
summers, betokened the very highest powers of thought.
There was a hush for a moment Then came a bustling
and a shuffling of the feet, and a harsh, strident voice,
pitched to the highest intonation, spoke. It was Mr.
Verdun, scientist, Fellow of the Eoyal Society, London.
" How can you ask such a question? " he exclaimed.
"Whither should we go, but where the finger of science
is pointing? With all the wonders we have shown
you, why will you not believe us? We have as yet
only touched the fringe of Nature's garment, and be-
hold what she has revealed to us, what we have revealed
to you. We have captured the lightnings, and compelled
them to carry our messages around the earth ; we have
weighed the sun, we have put the ponderous planets in
the scales ; we have shown you in the meteoric stones
the fragments of former satellites that swung their huge
bulk round the earth ; we have taken the suns of other
systems, whose distance is so great that it paralyses the
imagination, and told you the very materials of which
they are composed ; we have walked among the nebulae
of the milky way, and put the very rings of Saturn upon
our fingers. We have torn open the bosom of the earth
and shown you in stony manuscripts the handwriting of
Nature in the days of the mammoth and leviathan ; and
as the service of man is the only service we acknowledge,
we have bade the ' little god of this planet ' to rest from
labour, for Nature shall be compelled to work for him.
For him we harness its most dreadful powers, and bid
them take him from place to place with a speed that
outstrips the hurricane ; for him we have paved a path-
way on the mighty waters, and he laughs at the waves
that thunder harmlessly over his head, and he spares his
soft fingers in labours that are unworthy of him, for
hands of iron and teeth of steel rend and tear and weave
240 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
again garments of royal purple and tapestries that might
hang before the windows of heaven. And as all things
are the same to us, for all is but matter in the end, we
have divided and subdivided your creation until we have
reduced it to an atom that can only be seen in a micro-
scope, and then we have built up the same creation
again even to its crowning glory — the mind of man.
But you — you to whom we have revealed these things
— you for whose advantage we have toiled and laboured
— whose silly minds we have emancipated from anti-
quated superstitions about morality and virtue — you
whom we have delivered from the debasing pursuits of
arts and music and poetry "
" Stop ! " said the old man, with a vehemence that
startled us all, " stop this blasphemy against things you
do not and cannot understand. It is true you, men of
science, have revealed certain secrets of Nature, but how ?
By laying sacrilegious hands on her awful face ! You
have cut and delved, and maimed and sacrificed Nature
and her children, until her beautiful face is scarred and
blotted by you, and the hideous ugliness has fallen upon
the souls of the children of men. Wordsworth spoke
with contempt of old of those ' who would peep and
botanise on their mothers' graves ' ; but you, from an
advanced platform of scientific inquiry, would not only
sacrifice to your sinful curiosity the poor beast that licks
your hand in his agony, but you would even exhume your
father's remains for the sake of an experiment. And
after all, what have you done ? Does the sun give more
light or heat to our earth since you discovered that he
is a furnace of liquid fire, flinging out tongues of flame
to every part of the system which he rules ? Are the
planets more brilliant since you discovered that in reality
they are as dull as the earth itself ? Is mankind better
or happier since you drove him from the green fields and
the blue skies to the cloudy and choking city, which by
a kind of infernal chemistry drags the strength from his
limbs and the blood from his veins ? Is childhood more
pure and joyful since you brought it into your factories,
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 241
and bade it stretch forth its soft and tiny hands to grasp
and control mighty hmbs of steel and iron, and chased
the roses from its cheeks, and the laughter from its lips,
and the light from its eyes, and the music from its life,
and the tender love of God from its heart ? Yes, you
can analyse Nature in your test-tubes, you can spy at
her in your microscopes, but can you see her with your
own eyes, or receive her into your hearts ? You can tell
us what she makes her wonders of, and how she makes
them, and how long she takes about it. But you cannot
tell us what these wonders are like when they are made.
When God said ' Let there be hght, and there was light,
and God saw that it was good,' was He thinking, as He
saw thus, of the exact velocity it travelled at, or the
exact laws it travelled by, which you, wise men, are at
infinite pains to discover ? Or was He thinking of some-
thing else, which you take no pains to discover at all, of
how it clothed the wings of the morning with silver, and
the feathers of the evening with gold? Is water, think
you, a nobler thing to the modern chemist, who can tell
you exactly what gases it is made of, and nothing more ;
or to the painter, who could not tell you at all what it is
made of, but who did know and could tell you what it is
made — what it is made by the sunshine and the cloud-
shadow and the storm-wind — who knew how it paused
by the stainless mountain trout-pool, a living crystal over
streams of flickering amber, and how it broke itself tur-
bid with its choirs of turbulent thunder when the rocks
card it into foam, and the tempest sifts it into spray ? Ah,
masters of modern science," he continued, " you can tell
us what pure water is made of, but, thanks to your drains
and mills, you cannot tell us where to find it. You
can, no doubt, explain to us all about the sunsets ; but
the smoke of your towns and factories has made it im-
possible for us to see one,^ Here to-day is a beauteous
landscape, with its luxurious colourings, its broad rich
meadows, carpeted with wild flowers, its ivies and
1 The Neiv Republic, by W. H. Mallock.
16
242 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
mosses draping its wells and waterfalls, its clusters of
violets in the shade. Here in its clefts and in its
dingles, in blanched heights and woody hollows, above
all by its floretted banks, and the foam-crisped wavelets
of its streams, the traveller finds his joy and peace.
But here comes your scientific engineer and an army of
navvies, and with a snuff-box full of dynamite blows all
this loveliness into Erebus and diabolic night for ever.
And close in their wake, into the very heart and depth
of all this beauty, and mercilessly bending with every
bend of it, with noise and shrieking and howling, your
railway drags its close-clinging damnation. The rocks
are not big enough to be tunnelled — they must be
blasted away ; the brook is not wide enough to be
bridged — it is covered in, and is thenceforward a drain ;
and the only scenery left for you in the once delicious
valley is alternation of embankments of clay with pools
of slime. All this is bad enough for us ; but what is to
become of our children ? What favours of high des-
tiny has your civilisation to promise her children who
have been reared in mephitic fume, and not in the
mountain breeze ; who have for playground heaps of
ashes, instead of banks of flowers ; whose Christmas
holidays brought them no memory, whose Easter sun
no hope ; and from whose existence of the present and
the future commerce has filched the earth, and science
blotted out the sky ? " ^
A deep silence followed the outburst of indignant
eloquence. The scientist fidgeted and tossed about in
his chair, and somehow every one felt that science was
a kind of criminal that, under pretence of doing a great
deal of good, had in reality effected an infinity of evil.
But the stream of the conversation had tended so much
towards the lines within which Mr. George is working
out his theories, that every one looked to him to say
something on the important subject they were discussing.
^ Ruskin.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 243
11.
Mr. George rose slowly, and in a grave, methodical
manner he said : —
"You have raised the question of questions — the one
supreme problem that is stirring and agitating the
world to its deepest depths. Foriuard is the cry ; but
' the farther we go the deeper we sink into the sad com-
plexity of a civilisation where wealth and want in sad
companionship are seen side by side, where the few are
glutted and the many are starving, and the gifts of the
Creator, and the improvements of man, alike seem only
to increase the misery of the multitude. I do not find
fault with science ; but I say that so long as society
needs readjustment, as it does, so long as our social laws
and systems are completely out of harmony with the
eternal laws of justice and truth, science and all the
other ministers to man will be angels of destruction,
and not messengers of mercy. In the very centres of
our civilisation to-day are want and suffering enough to
make sick at heart whoever does not close his eyes or
steel his nerves. We dare not put the blame on Mother
Nature, or upon our great Father, God. Supposing
that at our prayers Nature assumed a mightier power
than it possesses, supposing that at the behest by which
the universe sprang into being there should glow in the
sun a greater heat, new virtue fill the air, fresh vigour
the soil ; that for every blade of grass that now grows
two should spring up, and the seed that now increases
fiftyfold should increase a hundredfold. Would poverty
be abated and want relieved ? Manifestly no ! The
result would be in our present environments, that the
luxury of a few would be increased, the misery of the
many would be deepened. This is no bare supposition.
The conclusion comes from facts with which we are
quite familiar. Within our own times, under our very
eyes, that power which is above all, and in all, and
through all ; that power of which the whole world is
but the manifestation ; that power which maketh all
16*
244 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
things, and without which is made nothing that is
made, has increased the bounty which men may enjoy
as truly as though the fertihty of Nature had been
increased. So my friend here, Mr. Verdun, has de-
clared. Into the mind of one came the thought which
harnessed steam for the service of mankind. To the
wiser ear of another was whispered the secret that
compels the lightning to bear a message round the
globe. In every direction have the laws of matter been
revealed ; in everj^ part of industry have arisen arms of
iron and fingers of steel, whose effect in the production
of wealth has been precisely the same as an increase in
the fertility of Nature. What is the result ? The few
are more powerful, the many more helpless ; under the
shadow of the marble mansion is the vile kraal of the
working-man ; and silks and fm's are ruffied by contact
with rags in the streets.' ^ Ay ! even your philosophers
have told us that all this is as it should be — that success
in life is the test of virtue, and that the weak must go
to the wall. Yes ! your society is like the Hindoo idol-
car, that flings to the earth and crushes those who have
not power to keep pace with it. In the amphitheatres
of the Eoman people, when the gladiator was mortally
wounded, the people passed sentence upon him, and
commanded that he should die. In the world of to-day
the same cruelty prevails. The moment a man sinks
under the burden of this world's cares, little pity has
the world for him. And now, gentlemen," he con-
cluded, " perhaps as you have allowed me to speak so
far, you would just hear another who has said exactly
the same thing but in verse : —
10 VICTIS.
I sing the hymn of the conquered who fell in the battle of life —
The hymn of the wounded, the beaten, who died overwhelmed in
the strife ;
Not the jubilant song of the victors, for whom the resounding
acclaim
^ Henry George, Progress and Poverty.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 245
Of the nations was lifted in chorus, whose brows wore the chaplet
of fame —
But the hymn of the low and the humble, the weary, the broken in
heart
Who strove and who failed, acting bravely a silent and desperate
part.
Whose youth bore no flower of its branches, whose hopes burned
in ashes away ;
From whose hands slipped the prize they had grasped at, who
stood at the dying of day
With the work of their life all around them, unpitied, unheeded,
alone,
With Death swooping down o'er their failure, and all but their faith
overthrown.
While the voice of the world shouts its chorus, its power for those
who have won,
While the trumpet is sounding triumphant, and high to the breeze
and the sun
Gay banners are waving, hands clapping, and hurrying feet
Thronging after the laurel-crowned victors, I stand on the field of
defeat
In the shadows 'mongst those who are fallen, and woundetl and
dying — and there
Chant a requiem low, place my hand on their pain-knitted brow,
breathe a prayer.
Hold the hand that is helpless, and whisper : They only life's
victory win
Who have fought the good fight and have vanquished the demon
that tempts us within ;
Who have held to their faith unseduced by the prize that the world
holds on high,
Who have dared for a high cause to sufler, resist, fight — if need be,
to die.
Say history, who are life's victors ? Unroll thy long annals, and
say
Are they those whom the world called the victors, who won the
success of the day ?
The martyr or hero ? The Spartans, who fell at Thermopyliie's tryst,
Or the Persians of Xerxes ? His judges, or Socrates ? Pilate, or
Christ?!
"Would to heaven that once and for ever this great
gospel of humanity v^^erc accepted ! ' If it w^ere so, the
! Blackwood's Magazine.
246 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
possibilities of the future were unlimited ! With want
destroyed, with greed changed to noble passion, with
the fraternity that is born of equality taking the place
of the jealousy and fear that now array men against
each other ; with mental power loosed by conditions
that give to the humblest comfort and leisure, and who
shall measure the heights to which our civilisation may
soar ? Words fail the thought ! It is the golden age
which poets have sung, and high-raised seers have told
in metaphor! It is the golden vision that has always
haunted men with gleams of fitful splendour ! It is
what he saw whose eyes at Patmos were closed in a
trance ! It is the culmmation of Christianity — the city
of God upon earth, with its walls of jasper and its gates
of pearl ! It is the reign of the Prince of Peace.' " ^
" Pine talk ! fine talk ! " said a young man whom I
had not hitherto seen. He seemed scarcely more than
a boy ; yet there was a vehemence and earnestness
about him which commanded respect. And the man
that is in earnest about anything is always sure of a
respectful hearing. "Fine talk!" said he again," if
to-morrow were the millennium ! You preach a doctrine
of science," said he, turning to Mr. Verdun, "but in
the same breath you degrade humanity, and behe the
sanctity of man's origin and the grandeur of his future
destiny. And you," said he, turning to Mr. Buskin,
" advocate culture and refinement as a salve for all our
wounds, forgetting that the higher your cultured men
and women advance the nearer they are to barbarism
as loathsome as Rousseau suggested. And you, Mr.
George, preach a Gospel of Humanity. That is the
best teaching yet. But so far as I can see. Humanity
left to itself is perpetually disgracing itself. From every
side what do we hear but charges and counter-charges
of cruelty and brutality flung from the poor against the
rich, and from the rich back again against the poor ?
Take the opinion of the one man who has voiced the
'■ Henry George, Progress and Poverty.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 247
sentiments of the century more clearly than any other,
and what does he say ? —
Science sits under her olive, and slurs at the days gone by !
When the poor are hovelled and hustled together each sex like
swine,
When only the ledger lives, and when only not all men lie,
Peace in her vineyard, yes ! but a company forges the wine.
And the vitriol madness flushes up to the ruffian's head,
Till the filthy by-lane rings to the yell of the trampled wife.
And chalk and alum and plaster are sold to the poor for bread.
And the spirit of murder reeks in the very veins of life.
And sleep must lie down armed, for tlie villainous centre-bits
Grind on the wakeful ear in the hush of the moonless nights,
While another is cheating the sick of a few last gasps as he sits
To pestle a poisoned poison behind the crimson lights." ^
" He wrote that fifty years ago when he was a young
man," said Mr. Verdun. "We have progressed since
then."
" Did he? " said the young man, with a sneer ; " did
he ? But what did he write yesterday, in his old age ?
Listen : —
Pluck the mighty from their seat, but set us meek ones in their
place,
Pillory wisdom in your markets, and pelt your oftal in her face.
Tumble Nature heel over head, and yelling with the yelling street
Set the feet above the brain, and swear the brain is in the feet.
Feed the budding rose of boyhood with the drainage of your sewer,
Send the drain into the fountain, lest the stream should issue pure.
Set the maiden fancies wallowing in the troughs of Zolaism —
Forward, forward, ay, and backward, downward too into the
abysm.
Do your best to charm the worst, to lower the rising race of men.
Have we risen from out the beast ? then back into the beast again.
There is your Literature ! Now here's your Progress !
There among the glooming alleys Progrcjss halts on [)alsied feet,
Crime and hunger cast our maidens l)y tlic thousand on the street.
There the master scrimps his haggard sempstress of her daily
l>read,
There a single sordid attic holds the living and the dead.
* Tennyson, Maud,
248 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Nay, your pardon, cry your ' Forward ! ' yours are hope and
youth, but I —
Eighty winters leave the dog too lame to follow with the cry.
Lame and old, and past his time, and passing now into the night.
Yet I would the rising race were half as eager for the light.^
" So would I ! But the light won't come ! And
neither science nor culture nor humanity will bring it !
For my part, I have thought the whole thing over,
and I agree with old Thomas Carlyle, when he declared,
looking up at the splendours of heaven and down on the
gloom of earth, ' Eh ! it's a sad sight ! ' I agree with
George Eliot in that famous remark she made to her
bosom friend in her old age : ' There is but one remedy,
my child, for the sad race of men — one grand simul-
taneous act of suicide ! ' "
This was rather too much, I thought ; so I went on
deck. It was a glorious night. Far, far down the
horizon great masses of cloud, their blackness softened
into purple by the lingering light, overtopped each
other, and built up their airy battlements high into the
zenith. Everywhere beside, the sky was a pale liquid
azure, through which the dim stars shone, and peace.
Nature's sublime peace, slept over all. I strolled up
and down the deck, alone with my thoughts, and these
thoughts were of the strange discussion I had heard.
Who was right ? — or who was even nearest the truth —
apostles of humanity, of science, and of culture? Had
they found the great central secret of the universe, or
were they, after all, but blind leaders of the bhnd — men
puffed up with knowledge and pride, to whom the great
Eevelation should never come ? I confess my sym-
pathies were altogether with the prophet of humanity.
Yet I knew, and knew well, that all his wealth of
sterling probity and enthusiasm could never reduce his
theories to practice — it would be all in vain : —
The still, sad music of humanity.
Like meanings of a midnight sea,
^ Tennyson, Locksley Hall : Forty years after.
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 249
would still be heard, and still would the words of the
poet continue : —
For morning never wore to eve,
But some poor human heart did break.
And yet how could the Almighty Creator have framed
this marvellous universe, with all its splendours, for a
race of splenetic and unhappy men ? Look around !
what a miracle of splendour ! The great moon is lift-
ing itself above the waste of waters, and flinging a
rippling splendour over the waves. She is scarved
and clothed with fleecy clouds, which she drops one
by one, until now she looks forth the acknowledged
empress of the night, and the stars grow pale and
draw in their lights when they behold her. The
silence which Nature loves is upon all things — that
silence which Nature never breaks but in music — the
music of the birds and streams, and the solemn Gregor-
ian of the ocean ! I can hear the splash of the water
at the stern, and the throbbing of the powerful engines,
that with every sweep of the propeller drives the giant
ship through the waters. I can hear the tinkling of a
piano in the saloon, and a lady's voice, and the first
notes of La ci darem la mano. My friends have turned
from philosophy to music. So much the better. But
here, too, is another sound, which I certainly have
heard before, but I cannot locate it. It seems to be
creeping along the side of the vessel, and even to be
rising from the water. It pauses and swells in rhyth-
mical rotation, like the sweep of a storm in a pine
forest, or the mournful cadences of the sea, as it
thunders in cataracts on the beach. And there is a
something about it which reminds you of a Greek
chorus. The tiny monotone of one voice, and the
hoarse murmur of many. It comes not from the saloon
or deck of the steamer; not from the wind, there is
none ; not from the waves — the shores are fifty miles
distant. Let us look forward. Yes, here it is coming
unmistakably from the dark depths of the steerage.
250 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
We descend. What a sight ! All along the sides of
the vessel, pale and angular Norwegian faces, lean and
hungry Italian faces, calm and heavy Teutonic faces,
are looking — at what ? A spectacle for angels and men,
and even for philosophers ! An aged Irish peasant,
clad in rough, homespun frieze, and without any
ornament save the glory of white hair that streams
upon his shoulders, is surrounded by a group of Irish
men, women and children. Their heads are reverently
bent, and the deep bass voice of the men and the light
tenors of the women and children blend in touching
harmony. And what are they chaunting? Not the
La ci darem of an Italian maestro of yesterday, but a
certain canticle that was composed by an archangel
some nineteen centuries ago, and his audience w^as a
woman, but blessed above all and among all. And the
chorus is another canticle, composed by a chorus of
100,000 voices fourteen centuries ago, and on the streets
of an Asiatic city, when the gates of the Cathedral were
thrown open, and mitred prelates came forth, and the
people anticipated the decision of their pastors, and pro-
claimed the woman of Nazareth to be the mother of the
living God. And these two canticles go on and are
repeated in the musical murmur of human voices, until
they conclude with the great hymn of praise to the
Father, the Son, and the Spirit, who are and have been
and shall for ever be ! The canticle of the Kosary is
familiar to these poor exiles. They learned it at their
mothers' knees — they sang it in the lonely whitewashed
chapel on the Irish hills — they will carry it in their
hearts and on their lips, and, like the children of Israel
by the waters of Babylon, they will sing that song of
Sion in a strange land !
Once more upon deck — this time with some new
sensations. Here I find myself right in the midst of
two civilisations.
The civihsation of the saloon, though in concrete
form it dates but from j^esterday, is but a series of
broken lights, caught from the suspended or rejected
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 251
philosophies of the past. The mysticism of Plato, the
doubtings of Epicurus, the blank m.aterialism of
Lucretius, have been revived in our time, and find issue
in speculative and intellectual Atheism, and in such
barren and hopeless solutions of the great problem of
human happiness as those to which we have just
listened. Science, groping with a thousand arms in
every direction, finds itself even in the material world
confronted by a wall of blackness, impenetrable, insur-
mountable ; and somehow the wayward movements of
humanity, which it hoped to bring under cosmical
discipline, break away from its arbitrary laws, and rush
into chaos and disorder. With every appliance that
wealth can afford, with all the facilities that private
patronage and governmental support can give, with all
the enthusiasm with which the public follow each fresh
advance, and hail each fresh revelation, modern Pagan
civilisation is inconsistent and illogical in its teachings,
false in its professions, and a dismal failure in its
attempts to meet the moral and intellectual needs of
men. A teacher without knowledge, a prophet without
inspiration, a magician who has lost his charm, its
judgment is the reverse of that which fell on the Jewish
prophet, for it curses where it seeks to bless.
Far different is the civilisation which is represented
by the humble occupants of the steerage, far different
the philosophy on which it unconsciously rests, far
different the gigantic effects which it produces and will
never cease to produce. These poor exiles do not know
that the philosophy which they profess is the steady light
of reason that burned in the mind of Aristotle centuries
before Christ, and was afterwards incorporated into the
scholastic teaching of the Church. They do not know
that their faith is buttressed by weighty arguments
which all the ingenuity of satanic intelligence has not
shaken, though put forth in language so eloquent that
the soul refuses to forget its music, even when the
reason has recognised its falsehood. They do not know
that Augustine and Aquinas, that Jerome and Bernard,
252 EARLY ESSAYS A^B LECTURES
exhausted all the riches of their matchless intellects to
illuminate and adorn the faith which they, in all sim-
plicity, profess ; and that in the full white light of the
nineteenth century such colossal geniuses as Newman
and Manning, having passed through every phase of
speculative belief or unbelief, have become at last, in
the full vigour and maturity of mental power, little
children, professing the same doctrines the exiles hold,
and finding their strength in the same prayers the exiles
are just repeating. They only know that the history of
their faith is this. A morning of sunshine, when, like
the haze over a summer sea, the sunshine of faith lay
warmly over the land ; and then a long night of dark-
ness and gloom, streaked with fire, into which their
historians plunging, have only heard, as Eichter in his
dream, the rain falling pitilessly in the abysses, and the
cry of a despairing people, " Father in heaven, where
art Thou?" From the gloom and the storm and the
shadow, from the wreck and ruin of seven centuries,
they have saved the memory and tradition of the loftiest
ideas that can guide the principles and sway the emo-
tions of men. And now at last emancipated, about to
tread on free soil, to breathe the free air, under the
pulsing of a free flag, they will be given an opportunity
of testing and showing, side by side with the barrenness
of Pagan civilisation, the fruitfulness of the Christian
ideal. For " Forward," too, is the motto of these
exiles ; and their eyes, wet with the despair of the
past, are straining after the hope of the future. Let
us follow them. In a few days, masters and servants,
the wise ones and the foolish, will be hustled together
for a moment on the quays of New York, and then will
separate. The masters will go into their drawing-rooms
and counting-houses, the servants into the kitchens and
workshops. The masters vnll hang their splendid rooms
with Oriental tapestries, and wonderful pictures of ac-
tresses and opera singers, of horses and dogs, will gleam
from the gilded walls. The servants will hang on the
whitewash of their attics some penny prints, but they
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 253
will be pictures of angels and saints. The masters will
write and lecture on humanity and philanthropy. The
servants know nothing of these things, but they will
build with their hard earnings convents, colleges,
asylums and magnificent hospitals, where the highest
medical skill will minister to suffering humanity, where
holy nuns will lay their soft hands on the throbbing
brows of the sick, and priests will whisper to dying ears
the only message that can bring solace to the stricken.
The masters will build superb palaces for themselves,
ghstening in white marble ; and, with a kind of uncon-
scious irony, the servants will erect side by side with
these palaces, mighty temples which look down with
disdain on these abodes of mortals, and whose glittering
spires, like fingers of fire, teach to these proud masters
the lesson of the kitchen and the attic, that " forward "
means "upward," or else a rushing towards eternal
destruction. And some day, when the sun is shining
very brightly, the masters will come down from their
high places and they will stand on the mosaic pavement
of these temples, and they will stare and wonder at
their marvellous beauty — the carving and the fluting
and foliating of the pillars, the white ghmmering statues
of saints ; the poems that are wrought in the stained
glass of lancelights and rose windows. But they will
never know that all this architectural lovehness was
wrought by the prayers and faith of the rough-handed
labourers on the quays and railways, and the modest
Irish girls who minister to their own lordly wants at
home. Unnoticed and unrecognised, they carry on the
great process of civilisation save when some great seer,
like Emerson, points to their work and tells his country-
men that even the material prosperity of their great
Republic has been built by the hands of the Irish race.
And not only in America, but in Australia and New
Zealand, in " the summer isles of Eden " that slumber
on the broad bosom of the Pacific, in every region that
is hallowed by the light of the Southern Cross, the
same miracle is wrought by the same consecrated race.
254 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
To them has been whispered the great mediaeval secret
that built Cologne Cathedral and Westminster Abbey,
the secret that has placed St. Patrick's Cathedral a
shining symbol in the heart of the most worldly of
modern cities — the secret that made the Irish miners
of Australia take the Cathedral of Sydney three times
from the teeth of the flames, and three times fling it
higher and higher into the blue vault of heaven. And
the spiritual influence of the race is quite equal to the
material. Wherever they go, they shed around them the
light of a faith that is almost vision, of purity unassail-
able, of strong enthusiasm for what is just and right, of
fierce hatred for what is cruel and wrong, and a pas-
sionate love for that hallowed isle in the Northern seas,
where they believe that every blade of grass that grows
springs from the relics of a hero or a saint. And who can
doubt that if truth is great and must prevail, if all these
wonders are manifestations of a supernatural mission
and a supernatural power — if they are evidences that
the faith these exiles hold is the only philosophy on
which civilisation can be built — who can doubt that the
final revolution in the history of the world will be
effected by the silent forces these exiles wield — by the
new life they will quicken, by the contempt they will
pour on the idols of a vanishing philosophy, and by the
mastery in every department of religious and scientific
thought they will infallibly win ? Let the world and
the leaders of modern thought say what they please.
To my mind it is certain, as if written with a finger of
fire on the firmament of heaven, that the only civilising
agency in the world to-day is the Catholic Church,
working chiefly through the apostles of the Irish
race.
Whilst I am thus thinking of them, they are sunk in
profound slumber. They are dreaming of the purple
heather and the yellow gorse — of the pattern and the
dance — of the white-haired mother who stretched her
hands in a long farewell from the cabin door.
It is just striking twelve. I hear steps coming up the
THE TWO CIVILISATIONS 255
companion way from the saloon. Three men stand
before me in the moonhght.
"I tell you," said one, "the kings of the futm^e are
the men of science."
" No," said the second, " but the men of culture, edu-
cation and refinement."
"Nay, nay," said Mr. George, "but they in whose
hearts are found some deep echoes of the great voice of
humanity."
"Not even these," thought I, "but the men of faith
and prayer."
THE FIFTIETH ANNIVEESAEY OF
O'CONNELL'S DEATH.
"Know ye not that there is a prince and a great man fallen this
day in Israel ? Not as cowards are wont to die, hath Abner died.
Thy hands were not bound, nor thy feet loaden with fetters ; but
as men fall before the children of iniquity, so didst thou fall.
And all the people repeating it, wept over him " (2 Kings iii.
33. 383.
These were the words in which David the king
announced to his people the death of a prince in Israel ;
and these might aptly have been the words, which,
wafted from Genoa to Ireland, would have told a
mourning people how the greatest of their leaders, and
the most eloquent of their tribunes, had passed from
labour unto rest. And after the lapse of half a century,
in which this people has passed through many vicissi-
tudes, that have not lessened nor dimmed their grateful
memory of him who was their deliverer, might we not
say to-day, "Know ye not that a prince and a great
man has fallen in Israel?" And if we do not lift up
our voices like the king, and weep, at least we must
renew our grateful remembrance for priceless favours,
that were won for us by the indomitable courage and
the transcendent gifts of our great Catholic leader.
But here let me change the application of the text, and,
instead of apostrophising the dead Tribune for a personal
prerogative of liberty, let me say to the Irish people,
"Your hands are not bound, nor your feet loaden with
fetters " ; for it was the hands of the dead that struck
the shackles from your limbs, and gave you, the Irish
people, that highest and noblest privilege of conscience
256
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF OCONNELL'S DEATH 257
— the right to serve your God according to those prin-
ciples which you deem more precious than your Hfe.
There is put before us, therefore, to-day, this great
luminous figure, that, rising out of the darkness and
dismal abysses of Irish history, has not made the dark-
ness more profound, but dissipated it ; for it is the
privilege of small minds to accentuate their importance
by comparisons, but of great minds to be lost in the
brilliancy and magnitude of their work. To those who
knew O'Connell, he is the memory of a grand person-
ality, whose transcendent greatness has not grown less
in the perspective of time ; to us, who never saw him,
he is a vision of heroism and power, passing victorious
over the frauds and violence of malignant enemies ; to
future generations, he will still be the embodiment of
great power, used for rightful principle, and his name
will be invoked by generations yet unborn, as a watch-
word for civil and rehgious liberty.
It would be presumptuous to investigate the motives
which influenced the Vicar of Christ in suggesting to
Irish Catholics the propriety of celebrating the fiftieth
anniversary of O'Connell's death. Perhaps they will
be indicated as we proceed. But it is a consoling
reflection that the arms of Pius IX. were extended to
welcome to the capital of Christendom the champion of
religious liberty ; and that his great successor, whose
finger appears to be on the pulse of nations, has thought
right, amidst the threatening of great revolutions and
the trembling expectation of nations, who ask one
another, "What's next? " to signalise the closing years
of a great Pontificate by prayer for the soul, and praise
for the memory of him who was a great lay-pontiff, and
who understood, best of all men, how to reconcile the
principles which the world is always placing in antagon-
ism — ^loyalty to God's Church and fidelity to our
country.
It is the teaching of all history that every race, and
principally the chosen ones, has had to pass through
alternations of slavery and deliverance ; and it has passed
17
258 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
into a proverb, that it is only in the very extremity of
their distress that a DeHverer has been sent. When
the tale of bricks vk^as doubled for the captive Israehtes,
Moses appeared. And surely if ever a saviour was
needed by a nation, it was when, in the dawn of this
century, Ireland lay bound hand and foot at the feet of
her mistress and conqueror. It is difficult for us, who
enjoy comparative freedom, to understand the despair
and the smothered anger of om' people, when after the
disbanding of the Volunteers, the Insurrection of '98,
and the passing of the Act of Union, all the disabilities
of Irish Catholics, in spite of hopes previously held out,
were accentuated by sworn protests of kings and
ministers that, come what would, these disabilities
should never be removed. Once and again a great,
generous mind, like Grattan's, strove to enfranchise the
Irish people ; but every effort was doomed to defeat, and
every defeat only riveted more closely the fetters of the
conquered race. Strong, vigorous protests were made by
prelates and those in power, who felt the shame of their
subjection and the stigma of their slavery ; but in vain.
A Government, always tenacious of iU-gotten privileges,
steeled itself against plea of orator and prayer of prelate,
until one of the latter, the great Bishop of Kildare and
Leighlin, declared that "if an insurrection raged from
the Causeway to Cape Clear, no Cathohc prelate would
fulminate a sentence of excommunication " ; and
another, the gentle Archbishop of DubHn, Dr. Murray,
declared in his cathedral in Marlborough Street : " The
contemplation of the wrongs of my countr\'men makes
my soul burn within me ". ^\Taen grave prelates spoke
so strongly, you may imagine how the less reposeful
spirits of the people flamed up, for one instant, into the
heat of red revolution and revenge, and then died away
in the ashes of despair.
It was just at this crisis that a young DubUn barrister
who had been educated in a French Seminary, and had
studied law at Lincoln's Inn, London, saw two careers
opening before him. The one had every promise of
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 259
success ; the other every sign and omen of failure. The
one beckoned to wealth, honour, dignity. The other to
poverty, disgrace, possibly a prison. There was every
reason to hope that the name of the young barrister
might be enrolled with such immortalities as the names
of Flood, Grattan, Yelverton. There was every reason
to fear that it might go down to posterity with only the
dim aureole that hangs around the memories of our
patriot dead. It was a question of law or liberty — the
law of the land or the liberty of the people ; a selfish
career culminating in perishable glory ; or a self-
sacrificing career ending in defeat and the immortality
of honour. It was a critical moment for Ireland — that
in which the young barrister balanced these alternatives.
Thank God, like the prophet of old, he heard the voices
of eternity, and, disdaining all lower and lesser am-
bitions, he flung in his lot with the destiny of the
conquered and martyred race. It is true, that choice
spirits had walked the rough way before him. It is
true, that all the consecrated and canonised spirits of the
earth have had to choose the bitter before the sweet,
ignominy before honour. But we must remember,
when calculating the nobility of O'Connell, that all
natural ambition would have led him to walk the easy
ways of honour and preferment, rather than the narrow
ways of thankless toil and unrequited sacrifice.
And, if ever a soul might have been daunted by the
difficulties of the task it had undertaken, it might have
been O'Connell's. He undertook the task, which only
the angels in Scripture performed, of roUing back the
stone from the sepulchre of a martyred people, and
summoning the dead to life. And to do so, he had to
cancel the history of three centuries, and to face a most
inexorable despotism that was pitiless in its barbarity,
and unscrupulous in its ministers and instruments.
The very names of O'Connell's worst opponents, even
history, which loves evil things, has wilHngly blotted
out. On the other hand, was a nation not sick unto
death, but already clothed in the cerements of the
17 *
260 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
grave. It needed all the faith of the prophet of old to
believe that these dead bones could live again. Had he
a strong, virile people behind him, O'Connell would
have still appeared to have been desperate in undertaking
the task of wresting their rights from the Government ;
but, with a bloodless and famished race behind him,
nothing surely, but an inspiration from heaven, could
have justified him in undertaking the work of their
emancipation. He succeeded ; and we measure the
greatness of his success by the difficulties he had to
surmount. He succeeded ; and we calculate his prowess
by the magnitude of the obstacles he overcame. He
succeeded ; in spite of the awful malignity of his oppon-
ents, who had recourse to every vile subterfuge to dis-
credit him and supplant him. He succeeded, in spite
of the almost incurable indifference of the prostrate
people. And his success was absolute and perfect.
The dead bones did clothe themselves with flesh, and
became a disciplined and irresistible army. His voice
rang through the land like the trumpet of the archangel,
and faces were uplifted to him, radiant with hope ;
a new light dawned in eyes that had only seen the
blackness of despair ; fettered hands were lifted up to
him ; and the voice of the nation grew from a wail of
despair to a shout of defiance and triumph. But you
who remember, and we who imagine, his triumphal
marches through the land, the majesty of his figure,
the ring of his voice, the inspiration of his words, the
magnetism of his great personality, as he swayed the
vast multitudes that hung upon his hps ; ah, we can
form no idea of the heart-burnings of the great leader,
when, in the silence of his closet, every taunt came Imck
to burn him, every vile epithet of the English press
stung him ; and he had to measure and to cope with
the criticism of his own people, and the treachery of
small minds who could never rise to the lofty stature of
his genius or nobility.
Twenty-five years of such labour and sacrifice rolled
by, and the year 1828 found O'Connell as buoyant and
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 261
hopeful as when in 1803 he began his glorious Crusade.
Nay, more so. For surely it was a hopeful spirit that
contested Clare in that year, and a dauntless spirit that
won it. And when, armed with the mandate of the
electors, he strode into the very citadel of the enemy
and defied them, it was felt that half the cause for
which he struggled was won.
There have been two great historical, because revolu-
tionary, scenes witnessed in the House of Commons —
the one was dramatic, but valueless ; the other was
dramatic, but it entailed vast consequences. The one
was, when Cromwell strode into the House with an
armed mob, and bade his soldiers " Take away that
bauble," meaning the Speaker's mace; the other was,
when O'Connell took up the Oath of Apostasy, read it,
tore it in shreds, and declared that " one part of it he
knew to be false, the other he believed not to be true ".
The House was startled from its staid respectability,
ministers stormed, the press thundered, there were
threats of treason and the Tower. O'Connell went back
to his constituents, returned armed again with their man-
date ; and in the following year he saw the whole edifice
of British intolerance crumbling before him, and a reluct-
ant minister demanding and obtaining from a still more
reluctant king the Charter of Catholic Emancipation.
It was a victory greater than that of Blenheim or
Waterloo. And it was a victory won unaided. But I
am wrong. O'Connell had two invisible allies besides
the powers that were working with him from above.
The great ones of the earth had heard, in the dawn of
the century, two voices that could neither be despised
nor ignored. The one was the voice of the American,
the other the voice of the French, Revolution. The one
uttered its solemn protest against injustice, and its
solemn demand for liberty, with all the reverence and
decorum that the great crusade for freedom demanded ;
and, even amidst the thunder of cannon and the fury of
fight, the patriotism of America enforced, but bounded
its claims, with all the reserve demanded by the prin-
262 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ciples of religion and the traditions of their race. The
other was a truth " clad in hell fire ". The sacred voice
of liberty was drowned in wantonness and libertinism,
as the sacred figure of liberty was profaned and polluted
on the altars of Notre Dame. Yet both were voices
whose meaning could neither be mistaken nor ignored.
The ark of freedom was carried by enthusiastic people
around the walls of ancient despotisms ; and they were
heaving and trembling before it. Even British in-
stitutions, that are supposed to be impregnable in their
cohesion and solidity, felt the effects. Then, at the
voice of the Irish people, heard from monster gather-
ings, caught up by the press, and thundered in the ears
of Enghshmen by O'Connell, the citadel of British
intolerance was shaken and fell ; and Irish Catholics
had the glory of winning back the priceless heritage of
religious liberty for themselves.
Yes, and for the world. For I do not think it is
generally understood how far-reaching in its conse-
quences was this measure of Catholic Emancipation.
You can generally limit such charters of freedom to
a race or a particular period of history. The liberation
of the negroes from slavery, the removal of Jewish dis-
abilities, have hardly affected the general interests of
the hmnan race. But this measure of Catholic Emanci-
pation was the initial step towards the broad toleration,
which the world enjoys to-day. For fifty years the
ideas of the world have been deepening and broadening
towards the freedom of thought, which has now become
the characteristic of our dying century. It is quite true
that irreligious governments in Catholic countries have
shown a tendency towards retrograding to persecution.
France has warred against the religious communities,
and is carrying on a petty guerilla struggle against nuns
and children. Italy has marked its secession from the
paternal authority of the Holy Father by imprisoning
him, and confiscating Church property. Germany, a
Protestant nation, has tried to smother the free speech
of Catholic bishops, and has been shamefully worsted
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 263
in the conflict. But all this is recognised as being in
direct defiance of all modern principle, and those poli-
ticians know that these petty persecutions are not only
futile in themselves, but an insult to the progressive
spirit of our century.
Under the EngHsh flag, let it be said, we have little
cause to complain in this respect. Whatever reforms
are still needed in civil affairs, and they are many, we
enjoy religious freedom. If we are not fostered, we are
tolerated, and no British statesman dare appeal to his
nation to-day for support in any measure, that would
tend to limit the liberty of the people in the profession
of their creed, or the form of their worship. One by one
the ancient prejudices are disappearing. Wider know-
ledge, and more charitable interpretations of opinions
and principles, are drawing closer together men who
were supposed to be hopelessly estranged. And Catholics
and Protestants to-day can meet and co-operate on
the broad platforms of charity, education, social science,
temperance. The spirit of religious vindictiveness has
been exorcised, and the angel of Christian charity has
come to take its place.
But furthermore, Catholic Emancipation was the
setting free of a race destined to mighty conquests. It
was the equipment of an army that was destined to
overrun the earth. For it gave at least a few years of
preparation to that race that was destined, under Pro-
vidence, to evangelise the infant nations of the world.
Its Pentecost had not yet come — that awful Pentecost of
death and famine and fiery tongues, which scattered the
apostles of Ireland over the earth, just at the' time when
the surplus populations of the older nations were pour-
ing out to found new empires under unfamihar skies.
In those twenty years of emancipation the population
leaped up to eight millions, and the excitement of poli-
tical agitation and the newly developed systems of
education were sharpening the faculties and elevating
the ideas of the people for that exodus that was the
prelude to the spiritual conquest of the globe.
264 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Did O'Connell see the vast results of his labour?
Did he calculate the stupendous issues that were to flow
from his work ? No ! We who are but puppets in the
hands of Omniscience can never measure the vast con-
sequences that issue from our acts. The heresy of
Arius poisoned six centuries of the Church's life, and the
souls of millions. The quarrels of the Crusaders have
left the tomb of Christ even to-day in Moslem hands.
The apostasy of Luther has torn whole empires for
three centuries from the sacred unity of the Church.
Thank God, the principle holds for ^ood as for evil, and
we cannot forecast the immensity and importance of
work done for God, however trivial it may appear. Did
the world know that those half-starved emigrants that
left your shores in the coffin ships of '48 and '49 were
the evangelists going forth without scrip, or purse, or
staff, to conquer the world? Did the world suspect
that they were leaving their mud cabins to build the
stateliest cathedrals of the earth, and that out of the
rags of their poverty would be woven the chasubles of
cloth of gold that clothe half the high priests of the
Church? Did the academic debaters of Oxford and
Cambridge, when the question of Catholic Emancipa-
tion was discussed in their halls, dream that in a few
years the voice of the emancipated slaves would pene-
trate those halls and beckon forth their choicest spirits ?
Did the Catholics of England, hiding in ancient castles,
and trj'ing to keep the holy fire burning during their
political exile, foresee that in a very few years every
city and town and village in England would swarm with
votaries of the ancient creed, who would preach their
faith in the market-places, and marshal their solemn
processions with bands and banners through the public
streets, not only tolerated, but envied by their Pro-
testant brethren? Did O'Connell see that in a quarter
of a century after his death, that huge fabric of intoler-
ance and inequality, the Established Church of Ireland,
the cause of so much heartburning, and even blood-
shedding, would come topphng down ? Did he dream
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 265
of the re-establishment of the English hierarchy ; of
the vast influences of the Tractarian movement ; of
Catholic colleges planted in the very centre of the great
English Universities ; of Catholic military chaplains
recognised by the State ? Would he have believed it if
he had been told, that England would be a refuge and
home for persecuted priests flying from the evil laws of
France and Germany, and that her southern coasts
would be dotted with monasteries and convents, filled
with refugee monks who are envious for the toleration
of England, contrasted with the angry despotism of the
continent ? Would he have believed it possible that in
thousands of English Protestant churches to-day the
old Catholic doctrines are preached, the ancient rites
renewed, the schism with Kome deplored, Catholic
symbols brought back, the Keformers repudiated and
condemned ; and whilst a remnant of penal times still
subsists in the coronation oath of the sovereign, thou-
sands of Anglican ministers perform daily what we
must regard as a travesty of the Divine Sacrifice of the
Mass ? Nay, did O'Connell think that the day would
dawn when the Archbishops of Canterbury and York
would be taunted by their co-religionists with having
hauled down the flag of the Reformation ; and that the
day has come when tens of thousands of Enghsh hearts
are yearning for union with Christendom, for the one
fold and the one Shepherd, that was foretold by our
Father, Christ ?
One would have supposed that such a victory would
have sufficed for a lifetime. But there are souls that
cannot tire. Some are carried on by the lust of fresh
conquests ; some by the desire of perfecting their work ;
some by the revelation, that dawns upon us all at one
time or other in our lives, that the activity of evil
powers is always more effective and vigorous than the
most strenuous efforts after the things that are pure
and good. O'Connell found that when the glitter and
the tumult of his great victory had passed, and men
had ceased to speak of the king who broke and trampled
266 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the pen that signed Catholic Emancipation, and the
sword fell from the statue of Walker in Derry, that
still the people were galled by all the petty tyran-
nies that will last even through great revolutionary
changes. The tenantry were crushed with rackrents ;
were ruined by that tax — that was an insult to their
religion and an injury to themselves — the tax of tithes,
wTung from unwilling hands by the ministers of an
alien religion. He saw then that single measures were
of but little avail to sweep away the vast mass of in-
justice that still burtheued the people, and that it were
better to concentrate the energies of the nation in
effecting a complete and radical change of Government,
than in attacking the myriad injustices that had their
origin in the system, and not in individual acts of
legislation. Then he raised the war-cry — Repeal of the
Union. And then he organised what was perhaps the
naost perfect system of agitation the mind of man ever
evolved. Every parish had its branch, every branch its
offices ; there were wardens and stewards, all obeying
implicitly the great central mind ; and the people,
flushed with victory, and animated with new hopes,
rose up and corresponded bravely with the splendid
efforts that were being made for their freedom, until
from Mullaghmast to Mallow, and from the wilds of
Galway to the Hill of Tara, multitudes, numbering
from 100,000 to 350,000, gathered together, and by their
enthusiasm and devotion gave O'Connell not only some
of the prerogatives of royalty, but also a higher and
loftier commission than even his ambitious mind con-
templated. A vast meeting was summoned to the
plain of Clontarf. Eour hundred thousand men would
be there. The last word would be said for Ireland.
Alas ! the last word was never said. The meeting was
proclaimed a few hours before the time appointed.
O'Connell had to face the alternative of the massacre of
the people and the defiance of the Goverrmient, or the
honourable defeat that consulted for the safety of the
people. He chose the latter, and he has been censured
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 267
for it. This is not the place to defend a memory which
has been now placed beyond cavil or criticism. But
from that moment O'Connell's power waned.
Two years later, one dismal summer, the odour of
death hung over the land — the Angel of Death was
there. The verdict of the last great Assize will tell
who was to blame for the awful holocausts of '47 and
'48. The country threw the blame on the Government,
and verdicts of wilful murder were brought in by coro-
ner's juries against the Prime Minister. In the midst
of the horrors, a grey-haired broken-hearted man passed
out over the Irish seas, like the Irish chieftains of old,
to see Rome and die. But, before he reached it, in tlie
very sight of its minarets and domes, and whilst the
Eternal City was en fete for his arrival, he died. He
never received the welcome, he never passed under the
triumphal arch. So much the better. It is well to find
the laurels of eternity on the Cross. O'Connell died a
broken-hearted exile, and his wrongs, silently endured,
demand our compassion, whilst we give him our reve-
rence and gratitude ; and from that day until now his
figure stands forth in all its beauty and grandeur. The
people of his own day gave him their love and admira-
tion, and that love and admiration are transfigured into
worship with us, who have inherited with his memory
the fruits of his labour and sacrifice.
Shall we close here with barren admiration for O'Con-
nell's genius and courage ; or shall we say that his life
has a lesson ? Certainly the latter. And our first
thought shall be surprise that for fifty years O'Connell
has had no successor. No great Catholic layman has
arisen in Ireland, strong and firm in his faith, strong
and firm in his determination that the twain interests
of faith and fatherland shall not be sundered. And yet
it is only what we have a right to expect. A great
Catholic nation has a right to a great Catholic leader.
For remember we are a Catholic nation. Catholicity is
the dominant note in our history. Catholicity is the
first characteristic of our race. Take away our fidelity
268 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
to our Church, which was fidehty to our country', and
the history of our nation is a squalid record of internal
struggle, and impotent efforts to shake off foreign domi-
nation. But our history is glorified by that one prin-
ciple ; nay, it is rendered unique in the history of the
world.
Now, if the history of our race has been a history of
supernatural patience and tenacity of principle, the
destiny of our race is also a supernatural one. I am
quite well aware that this position may be controverted.
We have become so imbued with the materialistic spirit
of the age, that finds its expression in books and pam-
phlets, in the entire literature of the country, that many
are dreaming of the time when Ireland shall become a
great mercantile nation, competing for success with half
the globe. God grant that her children may flourish on
her soil in the full numbers that her natural resources
fit her to support ; but I hardly think or hope that Ire-
land will ever rank amongst the great Powers, that her
armies will be invincible, or that her navies will sweep
the seas. Neither would I desire it. I had rather see
her mountains crested with monasteries, from which
God's praises ascended by night and by day, than see
her valleys blackened with the smoke, and her rivers
polluted with the slime of great factories. And, surely,
there is no true Irishman who would not rather see
your harbour ploughed by the emigrant ship, carrying
your evangelists over the world to those who sit in
darkness and the shadow of death, than to see its
waters blackened with the hulls of warships crammed
with deadly instruments of destruction for the annihila-
tion of the weaker nations of the earth. No ! Ireland
has one great mission — that of Christian teacher and
apostle ; and Irish Catholics should have one great
ambition — that of liberty enough to preserve the tradi-
tions of the motherland, and to strengthen and consoli-
date the mighty race to which they belong — in a word,
to make Ireland once more what she was from the
fifth to the tenth centuries, the home of reHgion, the
FIFTIETH ANNIVERSARY OF O'CONNELL'S DEATH 269
sanctuary of learning, the Pharos of the Western
seas.
I do not know whether there may not be in Ireland
some chosen soul to whom God is speaking now, as He
spoke to His Prophets, as He spoke to O'Connell, and
revealing the future of the race. I wonder whether in
the classroom of some Irish seminary, in the hall of
some great college, in some lonely Dublin attic, or walk-
ing the streets of our cities — in the dust of our towns, or
dreaming on the purple mountains — I wonder whether
there may not be even one, who, gifted with fine genius
and instincts, is looking into the future, and behold-
ing possible conquests greater than those of Alexander
and Napoleon, inore stupendous and epoch-making than
even their victories ? If so, he has a vast vocation, a
mission that belongs but to the genius of sanctity — that
of drawing the world to the feet of Christ and His Vicar.
If I may suppose such a great CathoHc leader, full of
the Church's philosophy, enthusiastic for the Church's
rights, proud of the Church's history, I say he has a
magnificent theatre before him, and such an audience
that the greatest of orators or dramatists might envy.
France would inspire him with the example of De
Maistre, De Bonald, Montalembert ; Spain with the
example of Donoso Cortes ; his own Ireland with the
example of O'Connell. He would have to contend with
the materialism of the age, the spirit of indifferentism in
religion ; and that evil genius of France, the anti-cleri-
calism that is the badge and token of Freemasonry on
the Continent and of secret societies at home. He would
have to contend, in Parliament or out of Parliament, for
the material interests of the people — for these are bound
up with their spiritual well-being — and to labour for
liberty without licence, and progress without perversion
of principle. The great questions of Catholic education,
temperance, social purity ; the elevation and refinement
of the home circle, the revival of the ancient religious
spirit of Ireland, that filled her valleys with convents
and her convents with saints, would pass into his special
270 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
programme. He would preach the splendid socialism
of the Gospel, the dignity of labom', the sacredness of
poverty, the obHgations of wealth. His armoury would
be the Acts of the Martyrs, the philosophy of St.
Thomas, the Encyclicals of the Roman Pontiffs, and
every brave precedent and episode in the history of
Christianity from the days of the Catacombs until now.
His aUies would be all great and good men, who only
want a strong voice to reawaken the slumbering in-
stincts of a people of God. And, as it is human to err,
he would have the spiritual insight to guard himself
against grave mistakes of policy by looking habitually
towards the centre of immutable truth, the chair of
Peter. And thus armed and thus safeguarded, he would
speak through press and from platform to the Irish
race, and, through them, to the world. And as his voice
echoed from colony to colony of our fugitive people,
the exiles of Ireland would turn to us once more, and
say, " Thank God, our motherland is not dead, nor
stricken. Behold, in her old age, she has brought forth
a Samuel or a Baptist, and the nations are hearkening
and wondering at the preachment of the old Gospel of
peace through the truth."
But, perhaps, you will say : " We want no more
leaders ; we want no watchers on the mountain heights,
but workers in the valleys ". Well, be it so. Never-
theless, there is need of some power to bind up your
strength and direct it. We want a voice to embody
your feelings and declare them. We want a soul to
touch your souls as with a flood of light, to be re-
flected back in an illumination of words and works.
Meanwhile, we give you the inspiration you seek, the
model you require, the counsel you need, in the life and
works of him whom we commemorate to-day, and we
tell you in a word, the secret of his success in life, his
immortality in death, when we say that O'Connell loved
his country with all the warmth of his great Celtic
heart, but, above and beyond his country, he loved his
God.
OUE PEESONAL AND SOCIAL EBSPONSI-
BILITIES.i
On a certain tombstone, laid over the remains of an
ancient knight in the North of England, these words
are written beneath the epitaph : —
I shall uot pass this way again.
I believe it is only a pithy paraphrase from the Book
of Job ; but it is a pregnant saying, and I take it as a
text. Generations will live after us, generations have
lived before us ; but we shall not pass this way again.
Our life's journey is our one and only experience of this
world. No words can paint the seriousness and sub-
limity of the thought. No great thinker, in the ranks
of sacred or profane Hterature, has ever faced it, without
putting his fingers on his lips, and pausing to realise its
awful significance. This little planet of ours is, for the
moment, the theatre of the universe ; and our little
lives the drama in which the Great Unseen are so
deeply interested. If we merely consider the rapidity
with which scene follows scene, and actor succeeds
actor, before the headhghts of the Heavens, the play
and the performers are absolutely insignificant ; but, if
we consider that the drama is but a rehearsal for eter-
nity, it assumes an aspect of momentous significance.
Heard are the voices,
Heard are the sages,
The worlds and the Ages,
^ An Address to the Limerick Catholic Institute.
271
272 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Choose well : your choice is
Brief, but yet endless :
Here eyes do regard you
From Eternity's stillness,
Here is all fulness,
Ye brave ! to reward you.
Work ! and despair not ! ^
It seems, then, that our hves are of supreme import-
ance ; and that, therefore, there must be a tremendous
personal responsibihty resting on each of us. My aim
in this paper is to strengthen those who read my words,
and, perhaps, inspire them to make their Hves worthy,
by creating a consciousness of their great significance.
For, to vary the metaphor, we are but
Ships that pass in the night, and speak each other in passing.^
And may my sohtary voice, echoing over dark and tur-
bulent seas, be a voice of strength and encouragement.
Now, there is one instinct of our natures, which, if
we follow wisely, cannot lead us too far astray. I say,
if we follow tvisely ; because if we follow it unwisely, it
means wrecked hopes, shattered lives, disappointed
ambitions, crushed hearts and dishonoured graves.
This instinct is our craving for happiness, the universal
and unquenchable quest of our race. It is the one
thing of which we are ever dreaming. The young look
forward to this Land of Promise ; the middle-aged
seek it frantically, although they begin to think it a
desert mirage ; the old are privileged to look upon it
only ere they die. How many enter into perfect happi-
ness ? Not many. They move forward to enter its
shining gates : only to find a desert. The miner rush-
ing over snowy crevasses to Klondyke, the emigrant
leaving behind his happy home for the speculative gains
at Kimberley or Coolgardie ; the young professional man
at home, straining after a lucrative practice, or the blue
ribbon of the Bench ; the shopkeeper, dreaming of
leisure and a marine villa ; the statesman, striving for
J Goethe. ^Longfellow.
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 273
fame ; the orator clamouring for applause — all these, to
say nothing of the hapless victims of the marriage
markets and mammon marts of the world, dream of
happiness ; and to all it is as elusive and as visionary
as the heaven of Islam, or the paradise of the eater of
opium. And all these athletes for life's prizes divide
themselves into two classes — the successful ones and
the failures ; and both are unhappy, the one class from
attained desires, that are ashes in the eating ; the other
from the eternal hunger after desires that are un-
attained. It would be difficult to say whether the
briefless barrister or the overworked Q.C. is the more
unhappy ; whether the great doctor that attends on
queens is a whit happier than when he was an apothe-
cary's apprentice compounding poisons ; whether the
peasant is not better off than his landlord, and the hind
than his master ; and whether the whole see-saw of
social life is not, after all, a perfect equilibrium of
happiness and unhappiness, swung from the hands of
the Omniscient. But then, there must be a flaw some-
where, if gratified ambition, dreams that are realised,
and hopes that have been fulfilled, do not bring this
happiness in their train. I will endeavour to point out
this flaw, and try to mend it, by one or two principles
that will help to form a correct idea of our personal
responsibilities.
The first principle is this, that happiness is to be
found, not in our circumstances, but in ourselves. And
the one grand mistake of humanity lies in supposing
that we change ourselves when we change our circum-
stances. Hence it is that men are for ever thinking of
improving the mere accidents and outer coverings of
life, and neglecting the one matter of supreme im-
portance — that which lies within themselves. I do not
agree for a moment with the ridicule cast on this prin-
ciple by that unchristian pseudo-philosopher, Thomas
Carlyle, when he says : " Know Thyself ? Too long
has that poor self of thine tormented thee. Know thy
work, and do it." The latter phrase is quite right. The
18
274 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
former question is unsound and unphilosophical ; and I
venture to say that half the miseries of mankind —
personal, social and political — are directly traceable to
the unhappy forgetfulness or neglect of the great So-
cratic maxim. And if at the expense of a little Greek
and Latin, and even of science, our children were taught
the supreme lesson of self-knowledge, self-reverence,
and self-control, the world would not be so full, as it is
to-day, of souls unhappy enough to constitute another
circle of the Dantean Inferno.
Let me prove this. The seat of pleasure and of pain
is, as we know, the mind. It is the receptacle of all
sensations. The perfume of a flower, the waves of some
rapturous melody, the glory of summer seas, touch our
senses ; but do not remain there. The gentle visitants
knock at the door, and pass into the vestibule of sight
or smell or hearing ; and immediately, the servant, sense,
telephones up to the master, mind, and it stoops down
and admits the gratification. So, too, with pain. The
odour of asafcetida, the harsh shriek of a siren on a
warship, the sight of deformity or disease strikes the
senses, and they wire up to the master, and he declares
his pain and dissatisfaction. And when the humane
doctor wishes to neutrahse the necessary pain of an
operation, whilst he is hacking nerves and veins and
muscles, he sends the mind to sleep with his anass-
thetics ; and lo ! there is no pain. The passive body
may protest by involuntary shrinking under the scalpel ;
but there is no physical agony, and no mental torture,
because the master, mind, is drowned in poppied sleep.
Hence, in times of old, the mercy, which we no longer
know with all our boasts of civilisation and humanity,
that drugged with myrrh the senses of those who were
passing to execution ; and even to-day in China, crimi-
nals about to be executed are allowed the privilege of
opium, that they may pass to a painless death. Now
it is clear that if the mind be the centre and source
and subject of pain or pleasure, our happiness depends
not on external circumstances, which merely knock at
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 276
the outer doors of the senses, but on the constitution,
and the phases of our feehngs and our thoughts. It
also follows that, if we can exclude from our minds all
painful and humiliating and irritating thoughts, and if
we can fill the mind with all pleasant and noble and in-
spiriting thoughts, we shall have moved far forward
towards the goal of happiness. Can we, then, control
our minds and every faculty of them, as easily as an
organist can pull out and close up the stops of an in-
strument ? Can we not only suppress in a moment every
passionate feeling, every turbid desire, every unhallowed
thought ; but even the httle worries and troubles that
make life unhappy, can we, in one instant, set them
aside, and successfully refuse to hsten to their impor-
tunities ? Certainly, The mind i's as capable of dis-
cipline, as the body. Phrenologists have mapped out for
us in every convolution of the brain its distinct faculty.
We know the seat of memory, we know the chambers
of intellect, we can place our fingers on the lobes of
diverse sensations. Here is the coil, from which Shak-
speare flashed the electricity of his great poetic genius ;
and here is the exact battery of nerve power whence
Newton projected his theory of gravitation. Oliver
Wendell Holmes pointed out, what we all experience,
that the greater and nobler the thought, the higher you
have to drag it, until it touches expression in the very
highest attics of the brain, as the highest notes of music
are the sweetest and the most far-reaching. Now, if
all these faculties are under the direct control of our-
selves, that is, of our immortal spirits, we should under-
stand that, by careful training and discipline, it is
perfectly possible to suspend the operation of the facul-
ties by one act of the will, and refuse to accept their
protests, their suggestions, or their complaints. What a
tremendous power and privilege ! What a complete and
easy destruction, not only of worry and fretfulness over
disappointments, but even of the dread passions of envy
and jealousy, of foolish striving after the unattainable,
and mordant remorse for a past that is irreclaimable.
18*
276 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
But this, you will say, will lead to Oriental passivism
and fatalism. Do you want us to become fakirs, like
the Thibetans and Hindoos, until our finger-nails be-
come as the claws of eagles, and the birds can build
their nests in our hair ? If happiness consists in the
exclusion of all thought, there is an end to progress
and advancement. True, but we don't stop here. We
move a step forward on the road to happiness, by filling
our minds, which will never admit either complete rest
or complete vacuum, with all kinds of high and holy
thoughts. We shall enjoy all the simple pleasures of
life, just as our Great Father hath given them ; and all the
intellectual pleasures of life such as the kings of thought
have revealed them. Here there is no necessity either of
great wealth or of great learning. The purest pleasures
of life are at the beck of all. And they lie under our
hands to touch them, and beneath our eyes to behold
them. Let me exemplify this by a story. Many years
ago in Devonshire I made the acquaintance of one
who was not only a priest, but a philosopher. At least,
he was a perfectly happy man ; and if that is not philo-
sophy, I should like to know what is. He had eighty
pounds a year, a presbytery about large enough for a
doll, and a bijou church, built from designs by Pugin.
That was all. No ! I am wrong. He had God's great
sea, stretching from the threshold of his door to the far
infinities. Well, one day he took me for a stroll in a
magnificent park, studded with all kinds of noble trees,
and embellished with artificial lakes, fountains and
cascades. Deer lay under the trees, and vast herds
thronged the meadows. The house, a perfect replica of
some Louis Quatorze chateau, was perched at the sum-
mit of a series of terraces, these latter laid out in superb
parterres. The interior of the mansion was quite in
keeping with the grounds. France, Italy, and even
Greece, had been put under requisition to suit the
costly tastes of the master.
"Who is the proprietor of this splendid place?" I
asked.
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 277
"I am," he said, without moving a muscle.
Then I thought that this good priest was possibly a
nobleman in disguise, who had given up all things for
Christ, quite a possible thing in England, and I was
silent.
"I don't mean," he said, after a pause, "to deceive
you. The legal dominion of this paradise is not mine.
The natural title and usufruct is mine. For ten years
I have come here every day with my books. Here I
spend hours in the keenest enjoyment of all these
beauties. Flowers and trees, deer and kine, lakes and
swans, pictures and marbles are all mine — mine to see
and enjoy. The legal parchment is in London. The
legal owner sees the place once in ten years. He is
now in Egypt. What could he give me that I have not,
except gout and a bad conscience ?
Cleon, true, hath acres many ; but the landscape, I ;
All the charm to ine it renders, money cannot buy ;
Cleon hears no anthems ringing in the sea or sky ;
Nature sings to me for ever, earnest listener, I.
State for state with all attendants, who would change ? Not I."
I thought of the story told by the late A. K. H. B. of
the Duke who, looking out from his palace upon the
beautiful reaches of the Thames, exclaimed in a tone of
despair : " Oh ! that dreadful river ! always running,
running, and never will run away ! " and the shepherd,
in his mountain cot in Scotland, five miles away from
a human habitation, who declared that, when his day's
work is done, his supper eaten, and Chambers's Journal
in his hands, he does not envy the Duke of Argyll.
Well, all this is in our power, too ; and we, Irish-
men, are specially blessed in having for our home one of
the fairest spots in God's fair world. But we need an
interpreter. We must look through the eyes of others
before we can see ; we must wait until others translate
for us the strange mystic language of Nature. How
many of us listened year after year, in the springtime, to
the singing of the skylark, ■ but never knew his music
278 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
until Shelley interpreted it for us? How many of us
were buffeted by the west wind, but never knew what it
breathed on us, until we read that noble ode of the same
great poet ! Men stared at Mont Blanc for years,
never seeing its majesty, until Coleridge wrote his
Hymn before Sunrise in the Vale of Cliamonix. And
generations have listened without articulate emo-
tion to the falling of the cataracts of the sea, until
Tennyson, in that immortal lyric, reminded us of what it
meant — the yearning for "the touch of a vanished
hand, and the sound of a voice that is still ", We need,
therefore, interpreters of Nature ; and the two inter-
preters w^hom I should recommend most earnestly are
Ruskin in prose, and Wordsworth in poetry. Of the
former, I shall only say, that it was a happy day for the
w^orld when John Euskin turned aside from being a
Reformer of Art to become a preacher on morals ; when
he made himself the protagonist against the dread
materialism and mammon-w^orship, w^hich, with the
usual accompaniments of vulgarity, are the chief charac-
teristics of the British Philistines of to-day. But you
shall never know the beauty of running waters, or sail-
ing clouds, of sea and shore, of mountain mist, or
" shadows-pencilled valleys," of sunrise or sunset, until
Ruskin shows them to you.
His poetic precursor, Wordsw^orth, is, to my mind, the
tenderest and safest guide in that great department of
poetry, where if sages have been high priests, satyrs,
alas ! have wantoned. I cannot share in the idolatry
of Shakspeare as a moralist, though as artist and dra-
matist he may be unrivalled. Browning lies on the
shelves of scholars ; and Keats and Tennyson are deh-
cate voluptuaries, who saw surfaces and painted them.
But the large, luminous mind of Wordsw^orth pene-
trated into the recesses of Nature, and he laid his ear to
her breast, and heard her heart beating. I know no
better book for the study or the seaside, for the river walk
or the friendly conference, than Wordsworth's poems.
I cannot share, but I can appreciate, the enthusiasm of
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 279
another graceful, gentle poet, Matthew Arnold, when
he said that he had no other idea of an earthly heaven,
except a long holiday, free from care and labour, with
the companionship of Wordsworth's poems.
Then you must have a science — not the science " that
peeps and botanises upon a mother's grave," but the
science that shows you what God's universe is — the
infinitely great and the infinitely little. And there is
no science half so well adapted to this end as the tre-
mendous and overwhelming revelations of astronomy.
Before these silent dioramas of the heavens, man's mind
sinks down first to an understanding of his own no-
thingness, then rises up to an idea of his majesty, then
falls down prone in adoration before the awful face of
God.
But all this needs education ? Yes ! Intermediate
or university education ? No. Self-education ? Yes !
And, let it be remembered, there is none other ! The
final result, even of university education, is to teach
men how to train themselves. The greatest professors
in Oxford, Cambridge, Konigsberg, or Berlin, can only
teach their graduates what to learn, and how to learn.
The real work belongs to the students themselves. And
the real result of all kinds of successful education, with-
out which distinctions, gold medals and fellowships
have no more intrinsic value than the medals of veterans,
is the acquisition of a taste for reading, I don't care
how desultory that reading may be ; the passion for
self-improvement, and the faculty for distinguishing
between a taste for the froth and foam of so much con-
temporaneous literature, and the desire, if you would be
strong men, of feeding your minds on great and inspir-
ing thought — the marrow of giants. And if ever the
day shall come, when the artisan in his workshop, the
labourer in his cottage, the clerk in his office, the student
in his attic, shall understand that the legacies of all the
ages are theirs, and that beneath their hands are the
priceless treasures, garnered for them by the intellectual
kings of our race, and that this means the ecstasy of noble
280 EARLY ESSAYS Al^D LECTURES
tlu'nking, then we shall have moved forward towards
that national felicity which, after all, is our real pros-
perity. Here is our second step forward.
You will have noticed that 1 have not introduced the
sacred name of religion here, because I take it for
granted that we all acknowledge this as the necessary
constituent of all human felicity ; and I am speaking in
the porch, not in the temple, where wiser heads and
more eloquent lips can, and do tell you, the secrets of
Divine philosophy. But neither in the exclusion of
painful thoughts, nor even in the acquisition of noble
thoughts, shall we find perfect peace. It is the ideal
hfe, of course, after which the world has ever sought —
the life of lettered ease and calm culture — the very
antithesis to that stormy life, where, " like an Egyptian
pitcher of tamed vipers, each struggles to get his head
above the other ". But it won't do for the strong,
young athletes for whom this paper is mainly meant.
Life is a process of renewal, of increased effort and
ever-changing activities. Stagnation is repugnant to all
our ideas of existence. Even in the dreamj^ languid,
somnolent East, men were obliged to invent some out-
let for the suppressed activities of this life ; and hence
they devised the doctrine of re-incarnation. They called
Hfe, rest ; and eternity, a succession of ever-changing
activities. We make life the season of work and effort ;
and in eternity we seek for rest. Let us see if there be
work under our hands to seek and accomplish ; and let
me point to two urgent necessities, where we have to
conquer both our heredity and environments — two ma-
terial difficulties which hinder the efficiency, and cir-
cumscribe the utihty of the great spiritual mission,
which I beheve to be the inheritance of our race. It
would be well for us, of course, if we could make this
land of ours a lotus-land, which, according to the Bre-
ton legend, " was anchored by God T\dth chains of
diamonds in seas the sailors do not know. When the
waters touched it they lost all bitterness, and for a circle
of seven leagues grew sweet as milk to the hps. The
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 281
isle was hidden from all eyes by a fog none could pene-
trate, but a peaceful light was in the centre. There, in
the form of great white birds, flew the souls of pre-
destined saints, and from thence, at the first signal,
they came forth to teach the world." Alas ! the fog
lifted, and the strangers came ; and to-day we are con-
fronted with the problem of how to save for civilisation
our country, our racial characteristics, and even our
religion. The problem for youthful activities is, how to
conserve and advance the material prosperity of our
race without allowing it to degenerate into mammon-
worship, and so that it may be an effectual help in
promoting our spiritual and intellectual destiny. This
I call our social responsibility.
We are made, then, by historical tradition, by force of
circumstances, and by the experience of unrelenting in-
justice, essentially a fighting race. Let us remember
that we are still on the tented field ; that the fight
which has lasted longer than Trojan or Punic wars is
not yet over ; and that, if the historian of the future
shall write the history of Ireland as unconquered and
unconquerable, he cannot do so, unless we, in the dawn
of the twentieth century, take up the tradition of 700
3^ears, and, with one great rally, wrest from the out-
stretched hands of Destiny the palms and laurels for
which our fathers bled. Now the battlefield is no place
for slumber ; and the mattress and the pillow are not
part of the equipment of a soldier on the field. Let us,
therefore, have our watchwords and our sentries posted,
and let us sleep with the arms by our sides, lest the
enemy steal a march and surprise us while we slumber.
And lest you should think there is no cause for vigi-
lance, let us see the trend of current events.
Those who read the English papers, which voice
Enghsh opinion, cannot fail to have noticed the tone of
exultant triumph that was elicited by the Spanish defeat
in Cuba. The cry went forth, and was echoed inso-
lently : The Latin races are going ! Decadence, and
prompt final extinction await the Catholic races of
282 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Western Europe, Santiago and Fashoda closed the
history of Spain and France ; and Italy, bankrupt and
insolvent, is but awaiting the political coiq) de grace that
will sink her into the pleasure-ground and museum of
the conquering and dominant races. The Slav in the
East, the Teuton in the midst, and the Anglo-Saxon
in the West of Europe, are the future masters of the
world and the future pioneers of progress ; and the
old, proud, Celtic races, the races of chivalry and con-
quest, the founders of the arts and sciences, the children
of the Crusaders, the legatees of priceless canvasses and
marbles, are to pass away, and be submerged in the
wave of brute force and materialism that is now sweep-
ing over the world. How far our sympathies may go
out to these kindred races of ours, hnked to us by the
commingling of blood by birth and battle, I do not
inquire ; but it may touch us more closely to learn that
we, too, are threatened ; and if it is folly to exaggerate
danger, it is madness to ignore it. True, we may
believe, and with all the best thinkers of Europe we do
believe, that the world is not going to write "Finis"
just yet on the glorious historical pages of the lands of
the Cid and of Charlemagne. Human history, evolved
by the puny hands of men, is controlled by a larger
power. Once the English flag floated over the walls of
Orleans and the sands of Calais. But, less than a
hundred years ago, French armies were concentrated
on the same coast for the invasion of Britain ; and if
we have seen the tricolour of France dipped in the dust
before the mobilised fleet at Spithead, the wheel may
turn again, spun by the higher power, and the final
conquest be placed as far away, and rendered as proble-
matical as ever. But how does all this concern us ?
And why, says the lotus-eater, do you trouble me with
phantoms of fears for w4iat shall never arise ? But do
we not 'see that the inevitable course of human events
must precipitate the armies of England on Ireland ? I
do not mean her red-coats and her Maxims ; but I
mean her commercial hordes, driven from the markets
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 283
of the world by modern competition, and thrown by the
stress of circumstances to find in Ireland, not only a
market for Enghsh manufacture, but a vast broad field
for enterprise and industry, where the native population,
through the lack of initiative, or lack of education and
training, have only been able to earn a precarious living,
eked out by the charities of the world.
Slowly comes a hungry people, as a lion, creeping nigher,
Glares at one that nods and blinks behind a slowly-dying fire.'
Who are the hungry people? And who are these
that nod and blink ? You have only to cast your eyes
around you, and see. In the agricultural districts
Englishmen and Scotchmen are rapidly realising for-
tunes, where the native peasantry earned a pittance ;
and in our great cities, enterprising foreigners are
swallowing up commercial wealth that lay at our doors,
but which we were powerless to touch. Simultaneously,
vast tracts of land are passing from the people into the
hands of landlords and graziers ; and by a singular para-
dox, our people, banished to the States and Colonies,
accumulate rapid fortunes by the very shrewdness and
intelligence which lay dormant and unproductive at
home. Meanwhile, Irish hands and brains are building
up the British Empire in every remotest corner of the
world ; and Irish intellects are able to think deeply and
wisely for every land and race but their own. And yet,
what Irishman is there whose eyes are not filmed with
tears, and whose heart is not saddened with regretful
love, when he thinks of his Isle of Destiny, washed by
the western seas, and beaten and buffeted by the storms
of centuries, and the blows of fate that appear to be
relentless and unforgiving ? Reason as we may, with all
the light of modern advancement and modern selfish-
ness, we cannot rid ourselves of that abiding and
eternal love which we feel for our common mother. Go
where we please, reason as we will, our thoughts turn
to the motherland, from whose womb we sprang, and
' Tennyson, Loaksley Hall.
284 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
at whose breast we were nurtured. Great philosophers
may argue on cosmopolitan lines, and say: "We are
all one race, and we have all a common heritage. Why
limit our interests to one little span of earth, of homely
features, and barren of mines and minerals, and to one
race, whose history has been a history of sorrow and
defeat ? Our sympathies are universal, and embrace
every race, even the flattened heads and yellow faces,
that make for the progress of mankind." It won't do.
Back we come from philosophy to affection ; and purple
mountain, brown bog, and granite shore loom up through
the mist of tears to waken recollection, or enkindle an
enthusiasm as passionate as it is undying. From the
swan-song of Columba as he left his own Derry hills,
down to the w^ailing threnodies of Clarence Mangan ;
and from the dying cry of exiled Sarsfield to the battle
speech of Meagher, under the dread escarpments of
Fredericksburg, it is all the same — Ireland ! and Ire-
land ! and Ireland ! the home of our heroes, and the
cemetery of our saints ! the haunting spirit of our
dreams, and the everlasting burden of our waking hours.
A few months ago I stood in the midst of the world's
show-place — the lakes and mountains of Switzerland.
All around me Nature had tossed up the earth's surface
into fantastic forms of crags and mountains ; and here
were pre-Adamite glaciers in the clefts of the hills, and
there were sea-green lakes in the hollows of the valleys.
It was a picture from the drop-scene or back scene of an
Italian opera ; but I confess I felt as in a prison of
granite, granite rocks pressing down in their awful
desolation upon the spirit, and only a little square of
blue overhead, serrated by the sharp pinnacles of snow-
clad hills. And the first free breath I drew was when I
passed out of the prison, into the glorious freedom of
the French horizon, and the long receding vistas on the
Genevan lake. And I said, we have something better
than this in Ireland. We have purple mountains with
their infinite varieties of mist and shade ; we have lakes
as fair as Lucerne or Zurich ; and above all, we have,
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 286
surrounding our shores, vast cliffs, known only to the
penguins and the gulls, and beneath — the infinity of the
sea ! I could not see how Switzerland, the land whose
mountains are the walls of a prison, and whose lakes
are pools of dead water, could be the land of freedom ;
and I could see how the spirit, that haunts the hills and
shores of Ireland, must be, of necessity, a spirit of
liberty and expansion. And yet, wherever you travelled
in Switzerland, its nationality, untainted but in one
particular, that of language, was the predominant
feature. The spell of the legendary William Tell was
everywhere. Here is the place where he leaped from
Gesler's boat, and they have erected a chapel where
Mass is said ; here is the place where he pierced the
apple on his child's head with an arrow ; here, spring-
ing from the waters of Lake Lucerne, is the monolith
pillar, erected to the honour of Schiller, who im-
mortalised in his drama the great national hero. Here,
in the vast palatial hotels, peasant girls wear the
national costume, varied from a score of their cantons ;
and here, in the hand of every young Switzer is an
Alpine staff, and in his hat is a sprig of Edelweiss.
And, here, in the lonely valley of Andermatt is a camp
of Swiss artillery ; and down the awful gorges where
Russian, and Austrian, and Frenchmen clambered for
the deadly embrace of battle, you shall hear the boom-
ing of the Swiss cannon ; for this land is theirs ; and if
they were the mercenaries of Europe, at least this
country is their own. And yet Tell is but a legend ;
and I would not give one page of Irish history, tear-
stained and blood-blackened, for all the myths and
romances that imagination has woven about the land of
the Alps and the lakes.
Well, then, what remains for us to do ? It is quite
clear that, however nice chivalry may read in the pages
of Sir Walter Scott, neither chivalry nor enthusiasm will
help the cause of Ireland at present. We saw not long
since how a vast army of Soudanese, intoxicated by
fanaticism and a love of glory, were mowed down by the
286 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
machine guns of the Sirdar. Chivahy won't stop the
mouths of cannon, or escape the bursting of shells. But
fas est ah hoste doceri. Let us take a lesson from the
enemy. Nothing excites so much astonishment and
admiration as the silent, stealthy, dogged persistence
with which England pursues her career of universal
conquest. No noise, no boasting, no defeat. Twice she
was beaten by the Boers, at Majuba Hill and at Kru-
gersdorp. Now, she is drawing a ring of steel around
the devoted Transvaal, and — time will tell. Her army
was swallowed up in the desert ten years ago under
Hicks Pasha. Then, with patient persistence, she
commenced her railway from Cairo to Khartoum ; and
we know the rest. Now, here at home, we have to face
the same science, the same courage, the same persever-
ance. English capital is invited into Ireland. Beaten
back from the markets of the world, her capitalists are
now finding that there is coal in Tyrone and Kilkenny,
and gold in "Wicklow. We don't object to see English
capital flooding Ireland, but we should like to see the
sluices of Irish capital also opened. Shall we be able to
meet these foreigners on their own ground, and turn
this new attempt at conquest into a victory for our-
selves ? Yes. But we must oppose science to science,
enterprise to enterprise, education to education, shrewd-
ness to shrewdness, if we don't want to see a new
plantation in Ireland, and strange merchants in our
cities, and the old Celtic population " hewers of wood
and drawers of water " once more in their own land.
An important Commission sat lately in Dublin on the
subject of Intermediate Education. I cannot help feel-
ing sorry that the evidence was limited to educational
experts. A few managers of Irish banks, a few mission-
ary priests, a few directors of great Irish companies,
would have told the Commission what the Intermediate
Act had done ; and, probably, would have told them
that what we want in Ireland are classical and scientific
colleges for the professions ; but of far greater impor-
tance, commercial and scientific schools for the creation,
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 287
the maintenance, and the success of an industrial and
commercial race. The Belgian Catholics have dis-
covered the secret. The Jesuits and the Josephites
have done in ten years for Belgium, by the creation of
commercial schools, more than Boards and Commis-
sions without number could do for Ireland in a century.
I say, therefore, at present, we are unprepared for the
commercial invasion that must follow on British ex-
pansion, and which the London Echo has already fore-
cast and recommended. Education, even in its crudest
form, has not penetrated down into the hearths and
homes of our people. And yet we are not without a
gleam of hope. There is a restlessness, a sublime dis-
satisfaction that is strangely stirring the hearts of the
young men of Ireland. And our enemies are beginning
to admit it. A few days ago I read, with an upleaping
of the heart, the following sentence written by a British
traveller on Ireland. He had journeyed from the Giant's
Causeway to Cape Clear ; and his verdict on the modern
Irishman was : " That he had become less humorous
and more dangerous ". Thank God ! The stage Irish-
man is passing away from reality as well as from
romance ; in his place is appearing the strong, silent,
determined, far-seeing race, that our best thinkers have
dreamed of and hoped for. These can do what they
did before.
Young men of Limerick, you have already voiced the
common opinion of Ireland on certain things that you
deemed vital to our race. I want you to draw a long,
deep breath ; and then let your voice go forth again ;
and let it have in it the depth and volume and emphasis
that will make dead bones live again. You have a right
to be heard ! You, who have on your streets the record
of unspeakable perfidy ; you, who have on your walls the
record of unspeakable heroism ; you, whose mighty river
has passed into the deathless poetry and romance of the
Irish race, you have a right to speak to Ireland ! And
when your voice, and the voice of your sister cities is
heard, demanding union, silence, determination, in place
288 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTITRES
of the barbaric strife and semi-articulate rage, which
we employ to exorcise the evil spirits that are closing
in around us, then may we hope that, at last, our
country shall not pass into the hands of the stranger,
nor our race be swallowed up and assimilated under
the dread constriction that appears always to have
followed in the path of the Anglo-Saxon domination.
Here is your social responsibility to your country and
your race.
I have no time to speak of the necessity of conserv-
ing our racial characteristics, especially our language.
I shall content myself by saying of this latter, that I
consider its extinction, partial though it be, a greater
evil than penal laws or the Act of Union, and its revival
a greater blessing than even our emancipation. The
Irish race would have had a different history for the
past fifty years if it had been welded, by a common
language, into unbroken solidarity. And the Cathohc
Church in America and England, marvellous as its ex-
pansion has been under the ferment of Irish faith,
would to-day have been fixed even on a firmer basis if
the Irish Catholics, like the German, had the strength
and force of a national language behind them. There
is no place nor occasion for despair. What the Jews
did, after they had lost their common Hebrew tongue
in the Babylonian captivity; what the Germans have
done to revive their language, after it had been ex-
tinguished by Frederick and Voltaire, that we can do.
And if it ever does come back, may there come back
with it the old, genial, Celtic spirit, instead of the
Anglicised, mammon-worshipping, neo-pagan manners
and customs, which in many places at home are the
chief characteristics of our race to-day.
I should feel I had been guilty of culpable omission
if I did not say one word of that undying principle that
is interwoven in our every fibre, that has animated our
history, that has been the main cause of our material
defeats, and of our spiritual and intellectual victories —
namely, the principle of our faith. Irish Cathohcism
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 289
and Irish nationality are interchangeable terms. The
one means the other. So true is this, that English con-
verts to Catholicity are known to their compatriots as
Irish, so completely wound up is the one idea in the
other. And, on the other hand, as we well know, it is
not the fact of being Irish, so much as the fact of being
Catholics, that excludes our people from positions of
authority and responsibility, even in their own land.
However glaring may be these injustices, we cannot
fail to see that in some respects we are responsible for
them. Our supineness and apathy, which we are care-
ful to euphemise as toleration, militate against our
advancement, and confirm our helotry in our own land.
The result is plain, and is quite on a parallel with the
inferior and subordinate conditions into which the
Catholics of kindred races have fallen. We know how
the entire government of Italy, much to her loss, has
passed into the hands of Freemasons ; we know how
French Catholics tolerate the government of their
country, the control of their finances, the action and
guidance of the press, by Jews and their allies, the
Freemasons. But we do not know how far this apathy
has carried them ; and how far their institutions have
passed under the control of organisations hostile to their
country and their faith. Let me quote a few facts.
Out of the 33,000,000 of French people, barely half a
million profess Protestantism ; yet out of eighty-six
prefects ten are Protestants ; there are a hundred Pro-
testants in the Chamber of Deputies ; there are eighty
Protestants in the Senate. This is not all. All the
higher officials in the Ministry of Public Instruction are
Protestants ; Protestant seminaries are supported by
the State; Catholic seminaries arc unendowed; the
faculty of Protestant theology is placed at the head of
the faculties in the ancient Sorbonne ; and all the
faculties of Catholic theology were suppressed in the
same university in 1884. That is a pretty picture ; and
I daresay there are some who think it reflects credit on
the toleration and charity of French Catholics. To my
19
290 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
mind, such toleration, that is, such cowardice and want
of grit are only deserving of condemnation and con-
tempt. But are we much better off at home? The
continued dismissal of the Catholic claims to the higher
education should teach us a lesson. Admitted by all the
best minds of Great Britain and Ireland as sound in
principle and safe in policy, our claims have been con-
temptuously spurned at the dictation of the most
illiberal, and reactionary, and fanatical faction in the
world. But this is only on a par with everything else.
"WHiat percentage have we of the leading departmental
offices in our country? Who are the directors of our
banks and railways? AVho are the engineers and
architects of our public boards ? How many Catholic
officials are connected with all legislative or executive
faculties in this country ? Who are the controllers of
our taxes, and the final judges of our legal responsi-
bilities ? These are questions worth answering ; and,
when we do answer them, perhaps we may spare for
ourselves a little of that contempt which we lavish on
Catholics abroad. But here I am met by two objec-
tions. One I cannot answer, as I should wish ; the
other finds an easy reply. When I am told that young
Cathohcs, coming out unfledged from our Catholic
schools, are unqualified to occupy prominent positions
in our banks and boards ; that they may know, indeed,
a little about Herodotus and Pindar ; but a bank wants
book-keeping, and a knowledge of the fluctuations of
stocks and shares ; when I am told, as I have been told,
that leading institutions, founded and supported by
Catholic money, are obliged to man their staffs with
young Protestant gentlemen, because educated Catho-
lics, in the sense of business men, are not to be found,
I really cannot find an answer, unless I am privileged
and empowered to contravene and deny that statement.
The other objection is : That it would be inconsistent
with our patriotism and independence to ask favours
from a hostile Government. Our members of Parlia-
ment, therefore, and our leading politicians, decline to
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 291
ask a position for a young Catholic, or a fair percentage
of the "loaves and fishes," which others are so eager to
monopolise. But this is not asking a favour ; it is
demanding a right. We have just as much right to
demand public or governmental positions for our young
Cathohcs, as to demand Home Eule, or a Catholic
University. It makes no difference whatever, whether
we are dealing with a hostile or a friendly Government,
whether it is Lord Aberdeen or Lord Cadogan rules the
Castle, whether it is a question of bank or board. We
are neither mendicants nor time - servers, when we
demand for our young Cathohcs the right to positions
in the emolumentary offices of their country, if, in other
ways, they are qualified. Again let us learn from our
opponents. The Presbyterians of the North are a com-
pact, perfectly united, well-disciplined body, thoroughly
organised, and moving with the precision of a machine
at the beck or command of their leaders. Well, they
hold Synods periodically, where ministers and laymen
meet in conference, and over which their Moderator
presides. At these secret consistories, for they are too
wise to babble through the public press, everything is
discussed. They are not troubled about questions of
doctrine ; they have full time for business. Their agents
tell them from all parts of Ireland what is being done,
what ought to be done. If there is a disability to be
removed, a point to be gained, a post to be filled, a loan
to be granted, a legal decision to be rescinded, a glebe
house to be erected, property to be acquired, the pos-
session of property to be legahsed — all is discussed
without acrimony or jealousy. A decision is come to ;
and, armed with that decision, the Moderator presents
himself at the gates of the Castle. " We demand this
inspectorship on the Board of Works, this place in the
Four Courts ; we require this decision to be recalled,
this grant to be disallowed ; and behind me are a quarter
million of votes, and their representatives in the House
of Commons." And does he succ(!ed ? Invariably.
Look at the latest question. " We won't have Roman
19*
292 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Catholics educated ; and you mustn't do it." That's all ;
and Mr. Balfour's generous private instincts are promptly
extinguished. Compared with this silent strength, what
are the vapourings of your public bodies and the resolu-
tions of your boards ? I'll tell you. Materials for the
waste-paper baskets of the House of Commons.
What, then, do I advocate ? Aggression ? No.
Assertion ? Yes. I say, Come up from the cata-
combs, and assert your rights. Come up from the cata-
combs, and claim the rights of citizens. Your money
is supporting the British Empire ; your blood has been,
and is being spilled to cement it ; your talents go to con-
solidate it. If you are aliens, they have no right to tax
you. If you are citizens, they have no right to oppress
you. With the charity of our Church, and the kindliness
of our race, we are glad to extend the hand of fellowship
to our separated brethren. But whilst we gladly concede
privileges, we refuse monopolies. We shall not attack ;
but we must defend. And we are no longer prepared
to expatriate the genius and the talent of our young
Catholic countrymen, and see strangers occupying the
honourable and emolumental positions, built up by sub-
sidies extracted from the hands of Catholic ratepayers.
But, again, we must speak ; and our voice must be
weighted by all the force and energy that comes from
an united and organised people. Hitherto, the isolation
of individuals has made their protests as " the voice of
one crying in the wilderness ". What we want is " the
voice of many waters " thundering from the lips of a
people who claim emancipation from penalism and free-
dom from disabilities.
But whilst I should not advocate aggression in our
social and political life, I should not be sorry if our
Catholic literature were a little more enterprising, and a
little less apologetic, than it has been. Hitherto, we have
been the patient butts of every kind of scm-rility and pro-
fanity, levelled against the most sacred tenets of our
faith. From the Oath of the Sovereign of England, down
to the offensive tract, that is flung before servant-girls and
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 293
school-children, everything is a reviling and a mocking
of our faith. And when the vials of scorn were poured
upon us from the lips of agnostics and atheists, our
agony was complete. Well, our vindication — I won't
say our revenge — has come. The proud Philistine
boasts of a few years back, when Tyndall uttered his
ultimatum to Christianity at Belfast, have been sub-
dued to the humble and stammering apologies of science
to-day, and the secret confidences of its high priests in
camera. " There are more things in heaven and earth,
Horatio, than are dreamed of in our philosophy." And
the pitiable condition of the Church of England, now
more than ever the city of confusion, is exciting the
laughter and ridicule of the world. If such a condition
of things existed amongst us, if our bishops were dumb
and speechless, whilst anarchy reigned around them, if
we were told that our doctrines were made and unmade
by Acts of Parliament, and if our comprehensiveness
took in all kinds of clean and unclean things, we would
be swept off the face of the earth by the scorn and satire
of the British press. Imagine how the Times and the
Saturday Bevieio would gloat over our helplessness, and
hold up our inconsistencies to the laughter of the world.
Should we grasp our opportunity and retort ? Against
unreason and irreligion? Yes! Against individuals?
No. We cannot feel anything but scorn for that insti-
tution, which, deserving all the hardest things which its
great Whig defender, Macaulay, could say of it, is now
passing through the agony and death-throes of dissolu-
tion. We cannot feel anything but compassion and
sympathy for the tens of thousands of good and ex-
cellent souls who see their homes and altars crumbling
around them. Let them know that fairer homes and
holier altars await them in the city of God. Time and
God have vindicated us. But if the time for apologies
and defences has gone, the time for apostleship has come.
And our young apostles must be dowered, like the poet,
With the hate of hate, tlie scorn of scorn, the love of love. '
1 Tennyson, The Poet.
294 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Hate for everything that touches the sanctity of human
souls, or the honour of God ; scorn for these ephemeral
and lying systems of human philosophy, that like en-
venomed reptiles spit out their spleen against God, and
die ; but love for everything pure and holy, and for all
the sad souls that are straining their eyes for the light,
yet walk in darkness as the noonday. Here is our
mission and our destiny. The world is waking up to
new ideas ; and in Catholic countries the young are
beginning to feel that they stand in the light of a fresh
and prophetic dawn. In Germany, in all the university
towns, Catholic clubs are being established. There is
an Association of German Catholic Students' Corpora-
tions, which ramifies from Berlin to Cologne. You
have the Novesia at Bonn, the Sauerlandia at
Munster, the Cheruscia at Warzburg, the Ehe-
nania at Fribourg, Switzerland, the Armenia at
Freiburg, Baden, the Bavaria, just opened at Berlin.
These will be centres of life and energy to Catholic
Germany. AVhy cannot we have the same at home ?
But what do I say? We have them, thank God, in
abundance. You cannot read the daily papers without
seeing accounts of flourishing literary societies in Dub-
lin, Cork and Limerick. Well, in the words of the
Hebrew prophet: ^'Enlarge the place of thy tent, and
stretch out the skins of thy tabernacles. Spare not.
Lengthen thy cords, and strengthen thy stakes.'"^ Ideas
rule the world, and are more powerful than empn-es and
their armaments. I do not know in this distracted
country of ours, where righteous ideas and correct
principles are to be cradled for propagation, if not in the
societies I have named, and in similar societies. Great
issues are at stake in our land ; and we must rise up to
meet and direct them. The destiny and vocation of our
race is a purely spiritual and intellectual one ; and in
the far future, when, like all other material empires, the
empires of to-day shall have met the fate of Assyria,
^ Isa. lii. 2.
OUR PERSONAL AND SOCIAL RESPONSIBILITIES 295
and Babylon, and Eome, it may be that our race shall
have a place in history as immortal as that of Israel or
Greece ; for armies melt away like that of Sennacherib,
and fleets, like the Armada, are the sports of winds and
waves ; and great cities, like Tyre and Sidon, are the
abode of the stork and the basilisk ; but ideas are inde-
structible, and great thoughts are immortal, and great
principles, enshrined in the history of a race, pass on to
new generations with ever-increasing vivifying powers.
Here is the only glory and immortality that we seek ;
and this it is our destiny to attain. But here, too, is
the greatest of our social responsibilities.
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE.^
Labia Sacerdotis custodient scientiam ; et legem requirent ex
ore ejus. — Malach., ii., 7.
Clericus secx'etorum Dei non ignarus esse debet. — Hugo a S. Vict.
A PEETTY general verdict on our Ecclesiastical Colleges
is that they impart learning, but not culture, to their
alumni ; that they send out priests, able and accom-
plished, but somewhat devoid of the graces, " the svt^eet-
ness and the light," of modern civilisation. If this be
true, it is no reproach. We will go farther and say,
that it is one of those delightful truisms that appear to
be quite superfluous. No college, no university even,
can turn out a perfectly formed character. It needs the
teaching of the great University of Life, the experience
of the world, the formation of solid judgment, the fric-
tion of human intercourse, and a large acquaintance
with the world's wisdom, enshrined in the world's litera-
ture, to mould a character to perfection. And to
suppose that all this can be effected in the halls of a
college, and with students that have scarcely reached
the age of twenty years, is a delusion that needs no
refutation. But this is a truth, and not a truism, that
our Irish Colleges turn out, year by year, a young body
of priests, the best equipped in the world for the work
that is set before them. If this equipment does not
embrace polished perfection, it is neither a reproach to
the colleges nor a drawback in the ministry. It is no
censure on the Irish people to say that they are not a
cultured race. Culture is the privilege of the few — it is
^ Paper read before Maynooth Union.
296
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 297
not the inheritance of the many. They are a quick,
witty, rather caustic race — but not cultured. It is
not their fault. Centuries of an iron despotism have
trodden out the flowers and the fruit of civilised life.
Art is a product of Nature — the veriest slave may be an
artist, as well as a philosopher. Poetry and eloquence
may be found in a cabin, as well as in the Senate. But
that indefinable thing called culture is a growth of
civilisation ; and not a mushroom growth, but the
gradual, ripening process of the centuries ; and cen-
turies of enlightenment, freedom, civilisation, ease and
education. It is the autumn mellowing of a free and
happy race. Such conditions and results are not the
portion of the Irish race, in the past or present. But
as we are all deeply concerned with the prospective in-
terests of the Irish Church, and as it is now universally
recognised that a highly cultivated, and not merely a
learned priesthood, will be necessary to meet the require-
ments of an advancing civilisation, it may be well to
consider the swiftest and surest means of attaining so
desirable a result. The very word "culture" supplies
at once a syllabus or schedule of its essentials. Taken
literally, it means " a tillage of the soil " — the artificial
improvement of qualities supplied by Nature. The de-
velopment of the definition would be " that culture is
the raising of previously educated intellectual faculties
to their highest potency by the conscious effort of their
possessors". Therefore, it presupposes learning, and it
means moral as well as intellectual training ; and, to
quote the same author,^ "when character is thus formed,
each mental force, whether it belongs to the contem-
plative or active order — each self so cultivated, will
possess the privilege insisted on by the poet, of being
able to live resolvedly in the whole, the Good and the
Beautiful — not in the warped, the falsified, the egotis-
tical ; not in the petty, the adulterated, the partial ; not
in the school, the clique or the coterie ; but in the large
sphere of universal and enduring ideas ".
' J. A. Symonds.
298 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
With regard to the first condition of culture, therefore,
what we say is this, that our Irish colleges are second
to none in the world in imparting the solid groundwork
of Theoretical Science, and, at the same time, develop-
ing the intellectual faculties of the students. And the
second condition would be attained, and the very per-
fection of an intellectual character formed, and formed
in the swiftest and surest way, by the liberal study of
moral and mental science. It may be quite right to
regard philosophy as the key to theology ; or rather,
as the vestibule to the temple of the queen of all the
sciences ; and to make it, therefore, the initial science
into which the student is inducted. But, considering
its importance, its intricacy, and its singular involutions
of ideas and phrases, we should be disposed to teach its
rudiments as preparatory to theology, but its deeper
and most difficult problems as subsequent and supple-
mentary. As this, however, is impossible during the
short limit of a college course, it will be seen at once
that these remarks apply almost exclusively to that
larger course of studies which a priest must pursue in
the great University of Life.
Now, the importance of philosophy is derived from
the twofold fact, that it is (1) the basis of all intellectual
conclusions on the great problems of religion and faith.
There may have been skirmishing with other sciences.
The great pitched battles between the Church and the
world have been fought, and shall ever be fought, on
the broad tablelands of Mental Science. And, in the
second place, it occupies a place in contemporary thought
from which theology is summarily and almost con-
temptuously excluded. All the best poetry in the world
is metaphysical, from the Bhagavad Gita to the Paradiso,
and from the Paradiso to the Bi Memoriam and AM
Vogler. If Dante had mastered Aristotle, Shelley had
his Plato always in his hands. All the best ora-
tory and didactic narrative in the world is meta-
physical. If Lacordaire trained himself for the pulpit
by a course of philosophy ranging from Plato to
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 299
Pascal, George Eliot trained herself, alas ! with
Feuerbach and Spinoza, And if it be true that
great mental speculations as to the principles of cer-
tainty and credibility do not now excite the public
interest as in the days when the publication of a volume
by Descartes was regarded as an event of European
importance, still the decadence of learning has not gone
so far that all public interest has died out in philosophi-
cal questions. Nay, even those who have lost faith
have yet retained an interest in supramundane ques-
tions. A recent writer says : " Our age admits no
certainty but science, yet it cannot help throwing its
sounding-line into the bottomless deep of the unknow-
able, producing into the infinite the lines . hypotheses
suggested by the sciences, and lifting itself on the wings
of dreams into the world of mystery ". There is a most
decided reaction in our day from the gross materialism
taught by physical science ; a certain amount of indig-
nation at its dogmatic and unwarrantable assumptions,
and a tendency to revert to the older forms of thought
as the only means of approaching, if not understanding,
the insoluble problems of the universe.
In the great University of Harvard in America a vast
number of students are pursuing advanced philosophical
studies. " Many of them," says an inquirer, Mr. W. G.
H. Palmer, " intend to devote their lives to the subject.
I asked twenty or thirty of them why they had turned
to philosophy. Nearly half answered that they hoped
for light on a religious perplexity. Others have met
some difficulty in mathematics, literary criticism, or the
care of the poor, which, followed up, became a philo-
sophical problem. And the case of Harvard is not
peculiar, but illustrative. All over the land there is
going on a gi-eat philosophic — I had almost said, religious
revival. More patiently men are asking searching
questions about themselves and the world they live in
than ever they asked before. A company of experts is
growing up determined to push inquiries in this field as
seriously as the last generation pushed them in physical
300 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
science. Philosophy bids fair to become not merely an
individual way of life, but an organised body of know-
ledge, to which successive generations may add." His-
tory repeats itself, and revenges the neglect or hostility
shown by too proud generations to methods of thought
pursued by those preceding. The human mind never
has been, and never will be, satisfied with a mere bundle
of dry facts as a solution of the mystery of the universe.
And if Lord Macaulay, in his enthusiasm for the in-
ductive and physical sciences, could say, in one of his
most flippant and superficial sentences: "Such specu-
lations are in a peculiar manner the delight of intelligent
children and half-civilised men," we can advance against
such flippancy the opinion of such a giant genius as
Rosmini : " Like the sun untouched by the clouds of
the atmosphere of earth, he felt certain that, though
heaven and earth should pass away, the Word of God
should not pass away. He knew, indeed, that Divine
Wisdom has no need of any philosophical system for the
salvation of men, and that it is, in all respects, perfect
in itself ; but that the errors, the prejudices, and the
doubts, which arise from the imperfection of reason,
and which interpose so many obstacles to the full assent
that is due to revealed truth, may, and ought to be,
solved and dispersed by reason itself. He remembered
that the Catholic Church, especially in the last Council
of Lateran, invited and excited philosophers to apply
their studies to this duty. But the study had been long
neglected, and, as a consequence, false philosophy in-
vaded every human institution, art and science, pro-
ducing a hideous perversion in the mental and moral
life of individuals, families and nations. Influenced by
this false philosophy, the passions and the base cal-
culation of material interests gradually became the
counsellors, the only masters of men's minds, which
were left open to every prejudice, and ready to give
their immediate assent to the most extravagant pro-
positions, or to withdraw it from the most plainly
demonstrated truth on any trivial pretence. They
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 301
became credulous even to absurdity ; incredulous even
to evidence. Embracing irreligion, they v^illingly lost
themselves in shameless licentiousness. Finding virtue
and truth a check to all this, they cast them aside as
inventions of superstition, or, at least, as things that
have no proven existence."
It would be easy to fill a volume v^ith quotations such
as these, culled from the great thinkers of the world.
But this thesis needs no further proof ; and if it did, we
might refer to the famous Encyclical of the Holy Father
— the JEterni Patris — as conclusive evidence of the vast,
the supreme importance of cultivating an exact and
minute, and, at the same time, comprehensive know-
ledge of mental and moral philosophy.
Now, to compass this it seems to us that both for
students in college, and for priests on the mission (and
it is for the latter that this paper is primarily intended),
a negative as well as a positive view must be taken of
this complicated science. We must learn Catholic
Philosophy by the errors of its opponents. In other
words, the history of Mental Science seems to be of as
much importance as the mere propositions of the science
itself. We cannot understand St. Thomas aright with-
out knowing the theories which conflict with his teach-
ing. And these theories must be studied, understood,
and sifted, until their worthlessness and extravagance
are clearly brought home to our minds. Long ago, it
was quite enough to say to students in their adoles-
cence : —
Spinosismus falsus est ;
ergo
Rejicieudus est.
That comfortable enthymeme will not do for latter days
and riper experience. Nor will it do to say that the
system of Spinoza (which its holders maintain to be
irrefutable by human reason) is Pantheism, and that
Pantheism is atheism. For all these propositions are
denied, and volumes have been written to support the
denial. But let the theories of this unhappy man, who
302 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
is responsible for the greatest part of modern infidelity,
be distinctly understood ; then let the full light of
Catholic teaching be thrown upon them, and the mind
of student and priest is made up for ever that such a
system is untenable, that it is disrespectful to God and
blasphemous, notwithstanding the charitable enthu-
siasm of Novalis ; and when he finds that system advo-
cated in after-life in books or by men, he can lean on his
firm conviction, instead of wavering and doubting
whether, after all, there may not be many things in
philosophy which our unformed minds did not dream of.
Furthermore, it is well to remember that we may, in
after life, particularly if we are obliged to do missionary
work in England or America, be thrown into contact
with those to whom Hegel and Schelling, Mill and
Spencer, Schopenhauer and Leopardi, are familiar
names, but who do not know that there is a philosophy
which justly regards these men as dreamers, and their
doctrines as illusory and hypothetical, almost to the
verge of insanity. They know no better. They have
never heard of Catholic philosophy. In their univer-
sities the names of St. Augustine, St. Thomas, Suarez,
Fenelon, Balmez, were never heard. Kant is their
sage ; Spinoza their saint. The spectacle of the life of
the former, prolonged for ninety years in the calm, even
routine of philosophical meditation, without break or
disturbance, is simply sublime. The life of the latter,
spent in lofty speculations, when the frail body, sup-
ported on a little milk, seemed unable to hold the soul
to earth, is a life of sublime sanctity to his followers. It
is a life of pure thought, that in which the Buddhist
hopes to find his Nirvana. They do not know that
Spinoza really was a haughty, cruel, imperious spirit,
whose very asceticism was animated by contempt for
men and hatred of God. Yet how irresponsive and
illiberal must not a Catholic priest appear who knows
absolutely nothing of these men, who are to their
followers the saints of science. And how large-minded
and sympathetic must he not appear who can say :
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 303
" Yes, I have seen it all. I know what all the cham-
pions of deism and atheism can advance. I have
counted, weighed, and measured it all. It is dust in the
balance against the pure gold of Catholic philosophy."
For the deeper one goes in such studies, the more one
sees how utterly fallacious and absurd are the specula-
tions of unchristian or antichristian philosophy. That
German school which, originating in the doubts of Des-
cartes, has plunged deeper and deeper into scepticism,
until it has become a tangled net of sophisms and
negations, what is it all in the end ? Human specula-
tions about the unknown, couched in a phraseology
which has quite an arbitrary meaning in the mind of
the philosopher, and from which he derives certain
syntheses, to which he lends the name of a system.
Then comes his pupil, who denies his axioms and first
principles, and brings the whole edifice tumbling down,
whilst he tries by new and arbitrary definitions to build
up his own cloud-towers, which again he dignifies by
the name of a system. All this has gone on for years,
until the name of metaphysics has become a synonym
for confusion, and materialists have had excellent
reasons for repudiating the intangible and invisible as
illusions, and building up, on their own provable hypo-
theses, this last and most dangerous system, which is
called agnosticism on the one hand, and positivism on
the other.
Now, what we require is a contempt for these human
systems, based, not on our ignorance of their elementary
theories, but on our complete acquaintance with them.
We need to have all the scorn of a superior knowledge,
a superior philosophy, and a faith that soars above
systems. This I call "reaching the zone of con-
tempt " ; just what, in another sense, Carlyle spoke of
when he represented a soul " rushing through the
howling wilderness of unbelief into the sunlit regions
beyond ". And let us understand that metaphysics are
the guide to faith. The late Lord Tennyson, a great
metaphysical poet, declared almost on his death-bed :
304 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
" After religion, metaphysics are the hope of mankind.
They must stem the tide of materiahsm. They show
materiaHsts that j^ou cannot escape from mystery by es-
caping from reUgion."
And so it might be said that, whilst all other sciences
appear to have but an ephemeral interest for the race,
mental science alone never loses its grasp. In our own
times, within the narrow space of a quarter of a century,
we have seen, first, geology, then biology, then Scrip-
tural exegesis, held up as the paramount sciences that
were to explain all things. They have now, one by one,
been driven back to the class-rooms of specialists. But
there never was a period in human history when mental
science was regarded as of other than supreme im-
portance, and it is safe to prophesy that it will hold
this supremacy until the final revelation.
So far for the intellectual aspect of the question. But
there is another reason why the study of mental science
should be regarded as of paramount importance. It is
the moral and elevating influence such studies have on
the human mind. They lead on to a spiritual idealism,
which is the antithesis and corrective of the gross realism
and materialism of our age. The mind is fed upon sacred
and lofty ideas, and grows and expands accordingly,
until a relish is excited for all that is sacred and sub-
lime in nature, and a corresponding distaste for all that
is sensuous and material. And it has been remarked by
more than one writer, that countries and ages that have
been signalised by devotion to metaphysical studies have
also been characterised by remarkable purity of morals ;
and, on the contrary, purely natural science has seemed
to bring in its train a taste for the baser or sensual
pleasures. This was particularly exemplified in the
history of the Eastern and Western Empires, in which
the superior morality of the former has been traced by
historians to the almost universal study of theology and
philosophy in the East. Finlay, in his Greece under the
Bovians, says : " Philosophical and metaphj^sical specu-
lations had, in the absence of the more active pursuits of
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 305
political life, been the chief occupation of the higher
orders ; and, when the Christian religion became uni-
versal, it gradually directed the whole attention of the
educated to theological questions. These studies cer-
tainly exercised a favourable influence on the general
morality of mankind, and the tone of society was charac-
terised by a purity of manners, and a degree of charit-
able feeling which have probably never been surpassed "
(p. 175). Now applying these principles to ourselves,
we should say that the great majority of missionary
priests would find relief from the tcedium vitce, which
presses so strongly in remote and unfrequented districts,
a source of great elevation of thought, a subject of daily
and most inspiring reflection, a loftier idea of their sub-
lime vocation, and even a stimulus to greater zeal, in
those studies that bring the soul face to face with the
mysteries of life and eternity. And let me repeat that
this system of education can only commence in college
courses, where studies are necessarily rudimentary, and
must be continued during life, at whose end the most
careful and successful of priestly students and thinkers
will be forced to admit that here below knowledge is
fragmentary, uncertain and elusive ; and that it is only
in the dawn of eternity we shall see the perfect light.
Hence, these high studies tend to make one very
humble. There is a curious dread, not the dread of
aversion, in many minds of that abstraction, "a great
theologian ". There is always an idea of dogmatism,
self-assertion and even intolerance associated with that
abstraction — an idea of absolute certainty that makes
argument or suggestion impossible. I suppose all this
arises from the firm ground on which the theologian
stands — the defined and ultimate principles which he
advocates. But the student of Mental Science must be
cautious and humble ; for the farther he goes in his
noble science larger and wider vistas open up before
him, and the higher he climbs towards the supreme
altitudes, the more frequently he beholds " Alp after
Alp " arising, snowclad, visionary, unattainable. And
20
306 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
he sinks into the valleys overwhelmed by the sense of
the boundless and inexplicable, and a corresponding sense
of his own limitations. Hence was philosophy called,
with perfect truth, The Meditation of Death, MeXerr}
QavaTov, which the wnse monks turned into the very
greatest of monastic axioms.
There is just one objection that may be made here,
and summarily dismissed — the old, stereotyped objec-
tion, that these studies tend to make men visionary
and unpractical ; and as we are living in an essentially
practical age, such studies are altogether out of place.
And, again, such studies paralyse human endeavours by
infusing a contempt for pm*ely human thought and
action. There is something in it. When a man says :
" I don't want a mitre," it means one of three things —
either he is a great saint ; or he has no chance ; or the
springs of human ambition are relaxed or dead. The
two first conditions may be desirable. The last de-
plorable. But as we are distinctly of opinion that it is
not always excess in philosophical meditations that
produce that effect, we may, I think, pass it by.
Then, again, it is said we have no books but the old,
dry, class-books. It is quite true we have not done here
quite as much as we ought ; but the demand will create
the supply ; and if we could inspire priests with the
desire for pursuing these elevating studies, we can also
encourage them by saying there is no necessity of limit-
ing themselves to the dry and rather deterrent scholastic
system of question, answer and objection. The dry
bones have been clothed with flesh, and, in the pages
of many Catholic philosophers and apologists, the great
principles and truths of Catholic metaphysics have been
presented in a form, not more secure by its consistenc}'
and fidelity, than attractive by its eloquence. This is
especially true of the French school. Bossuet and
Fenelon, in remote times ; Lacordaire, Gratry, Monta-
lembert, De Maistre, Ozanam, Maine de Biran, in our
own, have lent to Catholic philosophy a distinct charm,
which has been by too many supposed to be the exclu-
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 307
sive privilege of heresy. Balmez, in Spain ; Newman,
in England, and Brownson, in America, have clothed
truth with elegance and style. But it will not be con-
sidered invidious to say that the French school pre-
dominates in influence by reason of the crystal clearness
of its language, and its adaptability to precise and elo-
quent expression. And sometimes, in hidden places,
you will find light. In Father Faber's works, especially
in his Blessed Sacrament, and in Father Dalgairns, you
have philosophic thought and literary style absolutely
unsurpassed.
Outside the Church, too, are many who have written
eloquently and wisely of these high things, but this is
not their place. Among my own favourites I should
say Emile Saisset holds an honoured place, if only for
his expressed desire " that the world should be fed with
the pure marrow of St. Augustine {nourri de la moelle de
St. Augustin), guarded by the discipline of the Church,
and led by faith on all sides paramount ".
Amongst ourselves the great desiderata would seem to
be:—
1. A History of Catholic philosophy.
2. A synopsis of systems, compared with St. Thomas.
3. Lives of Catholic philosophers.
My argument, therefore, has run in a sorites : —
The highest culture is the product of the highest
thought ;
The highest thought is to be found in the highest
literature ;
The highest literature is that which deals with
mental science ;
Therefore, the highest culture must spring from
mental science.
One word more. In writing suggestive papers of
this kind, there seems to be sometimes a querulous
20*
308 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
undertone, a note of dissatisfaction that may be mis-
placed. If there be such, set it down to a passionate
desire to see utilised and developed the vast, intellectual
resources at our command. The word " Waste " seems
to be written in large letters over Ireland, from Malin
Head to Cape Clear, and from Loop Head to Howth.
With all attempts at reclamation, politically and sociall}^
we must be in perfect sympathy ; for those who have
time to think and observe can never rid themselves of
the reflection of what Ireland has been, of what Ireland
might be, of what Ireland shall be. With all kindred
workers in other departments we may have sympathy
and toleration — toleration for all, except the intolerant.
But our own special department is the spiritual and in-
tellectual. I do not think we shall do much in physical
science. The genius of the race appears to be opposed
to studies demanding a careful sifting of details, and a
patient examination of minutise. I often wonder whether
the artists who v^rought those exceedingly intricate
gold ornaments in the Eoyal Irish Academy, or the still
more beautiful and still more intricate scrollwork in the
Book of Kells, and other priceless manuscripts, were of
the same race as we. But I know right well that we are
of the race of the men who, forsaking their fatherland,
planted in Lutetia Parisiorum the world's first univer-
sity, and then streamed over rivers and mountains to
leave the priceless heritage of their sanctity and learn-
ing, and the material records of their zeal, enshrined
amongst the lovely valleys of the Alps, and the vine-
clad slopes of the Apennines. And I also know it was
the same race that sent Erigena, like a meteor across
Em'ope, to show barbarous tribes or a weakened
civilisation the wonders of that science, whose attrac-
tions I am feebly advocating to-day. Is the race struck
barren? The world says "No!" — tells us that we are
even still the most learned body of priests in the world.
Let us accept the compliment, but make ourselves
worthy of it. Everything is in our favom-. The great
majority of us have a good deal of leism'e-time for study ;
THE STUDY OF MENTAL SCIENCE 309
there is the same subtle power for pursuing thought
through its labyrinths that our race has always pos-
sessed. There is also that intense idealism that, never
satisfied with mere analysis, is for ever looking through
and beyond the outward show of things into the depths
of the unseen. What then is wanting ? Only a desire
to lift ourselves on a higher plane of thought, where,
amongst all the masters of the higher thought, we may
understand that life has a dignity with which all meaner
ambitions are incommensurable, and a destiny which
enhances and ennobles even the most puny and sordid
details of daily existence.
CEETAIN ELEMENTS OF CHAEACTEK.^
The selection of a suitable subject for such an assembly
as I have the honour of addressing this evening was by
no means easy. I had choice of a literary subject,
which might be rendered entertaining ; and, if not im-
mediately useful, at least suggestive of certain trends of
thought which might be afterwards developed and
utilised in the prosaic business of everyday life ; or of
some more practical issue which would suit your age
and its immediate requirements. I selected this latter
as more economical of time and thought, and of more
proximate interest and utility ; and I elected to speak of
the elements of character, derivative and formative,
inasmuch as character is the moral basis of life — the
foundation on which the lower habitation of our earthly
destiny, and the higher superstructure of our eternal
Fate, are built for woe and destruction, or for per-
manency and weal. For this life of ours is — like the
Bridge of Sighs — " a palace and a prison on each hand " ;
with the difference that it is no longer a Council of
Three, masked and veiled in impenetrable disguises, but
our own selves, who, with perfect freedom, construct
those elements that lead to happiness or misery, by guid-
ing the conduct of our lives.
We go back to the etymology of words to get at their
real meaning ; and we find that the word " character "
means an engraving — the something that is cut, and
graved, and chiselled on the individual soul. The Greek
word ;3^a.pac7o-&) has that meaning ; and it is a signifi-
^ Library Conference, Catholic University College, Dublin.
310
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 311
cant one. Character is that which individualises us,
which separates the Me from the Thee. It is the dis-
tinctive feature of every soul — the sum of excellences or
defects, which make us what we are. We speak of the
character of a landscape, the character of a race ; and
our Catechism perhaps best describes the meaning of the
word as applied to our souls, when speaking of certain
sacraments it says : " They imprint on the soul a charac-
ter, or spiritual mark, which can never be effaced ".
Now, whence comes this character ? Who is the en-
graver ? How long does the mark, cut into our souls by
the terrible edge of some invisible stylus, remain ? And
how is that mark either altogether obliterated, or sculp-
tured more deeply by the accidents and environments of
life? And here let me at once premise, that, to avoid
confusion of ideas, I am only speaking of the natural
order, if, indeed, it can ever be fully dissociated from the
supernatural. The vast effects of supernatural agencies,
such as grace, prayer, the Sacraments, etc., I leave to
other times and places, with the simple but essential
proviso, that they form, in their own order, an indis-
pensable portion of the factors which go to make up
our mental and moral well-being.
We find, then, that in the formation of character three
elements are to be taken into account, namely : heredity,
associations and education. I shall briefly touch the
two former as derivative elements ; and dwell mostly on
the latter as the formative element of character.
The world — at least that portion of it which thinks —
is beginning to recognise, with some concern, that
which has been called "the terrible law of heredity".
Its secret operations are only beginning to be known,
and are still subjects of investigation in the closet
and laboratory. Its public manifestations are forcing
the tremendous truth upon the notice of states-
men and legislators, theologians and physicians,
philosophers and economists alike. It cannot now be
ignored in any science. It seems to permeate Nature,
and influence all its operations. The scientist who
312 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
refuses to see it is blind ; the philosopher who neglects
or despises it may rush to unhappy conclusions ; the
physiologist who neglects it neglects what is almost an
axiomatic truth. The whole of our future, and, let us
hope, more merciful penal legislation, will probably be
framed on it. It will be the basis of a new psychology.
And even our moral teachings may have to be con-
siderably reconstructed in order to meet and adjust
themselves (not so far as their positive truth, which is
unchangeable, but so far as charity and prudence are
concerned) to the revelations of this imperious and
inexorable law. And it seems, so far as we can judge,
to be this : That just as the physical characteristics
of parents are transmitted to children — the colour of
the hair and eyes, the shape and hue of features, the
deformities or defects in the frame, the tendency to
disease ; so, too, are the moral lineaments handed
down — the tendency to a virtue or a vice, the power
of repression of evil instincts, or the incapacity to resist
— in a word, all these faint lines, sculptured on the
virgin tablets of the soul, hereafter to be obliterated or
deepened by the various accidents or circumstances of
life. The exact moment of this transmission, whether
it comes from father or mother, or both — are interesting
physiological questions not quite so important, but as
widely debated, as the question of the moment in
which the soul is infused by the breath of God and the
new creation springs into the form and life of man.
Here, too, comes in the convergence, not the clashing,
of ideas between the physiologist and the metaphysician
in the problem — how far the bias, when evil, is due to
heredity or to the consequences of the first great fall.
That this strange and portentous inheritance does
take place, that the tendency to violence, or drink, or
other specific vice, is transmitted, just like a scrofulous
affection, appears to be universally admitted ; and it is
the first element we have to take into account in the
formation of character.
The second is, the environment, or associations, in
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 313
which the infant or, indeed, the adult soul, is placed.
This, too, has an enormous influence in determining
what that character shall be. The soul is as soft and
plastic as wax, or as clay in the hands of the potter. It
takes impressions and retains them, until they become
indurated into habits that are permanent and inefface-
able. The example of those around it, the words heard
every day, and which the mind remembers because of
its very effort to disentangle their meaning, the power
of parental authority, greatest in its example and in-
fluence, the intercourse with servants, the first book,
the first picture — from all these elements is character
derived, and they must be taken into account, not, alas !
to remove and displace them, because it is too late, but
only to deplore them, when we calculate the future of
little children. There is a Spanish proverb : " Live
with wolves, and you will learn to howl " ; and a plainer
sentence in the Psalms: "With the holy, thou wilt be
holy ; and with the innocent, thou wilt be innocent ;
and with the elect, thou wilt be elect ; and with the per-
verse, thou wilt be perverted ". "Is example nothing ? "
said Edmund Burke. "It is everything. Example
is the school of mankind ; and they will learn at no
other." How terrible the truth is, we who have daily
experience of school-life, and its transient and tem-
porary efi'ects compared with the far more powerful
and permanent effects of the home influences, know but
too well. The real teachers of mankind are not the
priest, the professor or the schoolmaster ; but the parents,
or those who stand hi loco 'parentis. The real academy
of life is not the church, or the school ; but the domestic
hearth. It is, alas ! our daily experience to find that
every lesson of Christian decency and morality is scat-
tered to the winds of heaven by home influences ; and
that the zealous and honourable efforts of our Sisters
and other teachers are neutralised by the closer and
more intimate teaching that goes on insensibly in the
children's homes. And, what is even sadder still, is
that we often find our young people, carefully trained
314 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
in high-class schools in all the habits of refinement and
all beautiful tastes for clean and beautiful things,
steadily retrograding the moment they cross the thres-
hold of home, and are subjected to the influences of the
less refined, but not less powerful circumstances in
which they then find themselves. It is the bitter
prophecy of the lover in Lochsley Hall : —
Yet it shall be ; thou shalt lower to his level, day by day,
All that's fine within thee growing coarse to sympathise with clay.
On the other hand, it would be difficult to exaggerate
the influence for good exercised by wholesome en-
vironments. Nay, the very evils sprung from heredity
are often eradicated by the slow, but sure, process of
betterment, arising from clean and healthy surround-
ings. As good food, pm'e air, wholesome exercise,
cleanliness of mind and body, may build up a rickety
constitution ; so good example, the daily contact with
the virtuous, the surroundings of a sweet and healthy
home, may transform a disposition prone from its evil
inheritance to vicious habits into a virtuous and happy
temperament, with every bias towards a good and a noble
life. Nay, the good example of one man has often shed
sweetness and light not only over a family, but over a
whole nation. For, as the thought of a good action
done by day makes " music at midnight," so the re-
flection of a great character throws its lighted shadow
across the night of nations, and wakens them to a new
morrow of truthfulness and love. " I was common clay
until the roses were planted in me," says an Eastern
fable ; and the common clay of ordinary humanity is
not only fertilised, but beautified by the transplanting
of noble thoughts, or sublime deeds, or holy inspira-
tions, fallen from the lives of those whose pathway is
towards the stars.
The third element of character, and that which is dis-
tinctly formative, is education. It concerns us, too,
more deeply than the others. The two former are
altogether or largely beyond our will or control, at
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 315
least in origin. We cannot determine our birth nor
parentage, neither can we control the circumstances
in which our childhood or boyhood is placed. But
we can educate ourselves physically, intellectually and
morally ; and, by this means, remove even the taint of
heredity, if such exists ; and counteract the effects of
evil associations, if unhappily our early years should
have been vitiated by them.
Of physical education I know nothing. I have a
great admiration for those ancient, supple Greeks, who
lived altogether in the open air, and refrained from
many things in order to win the prize. Very like them
were our own countrymen, of whom Spencer wrote to
Queen Ehzabeth 300 years ago : " Yet sure they are
very valiant and hardy, for the most part great endurers
of cold, labour, hunger, and all hardiness, very active
and strong of hand, very swift of foot, very vigilant and
circumspect in their enterprises, very present in perils,
very great scorners of death ". How far we are chang-
ing, under new conditions, it is not for m.e to say ; but
if, as the same author alleges, Cyrus changed the
Lydians, who were a fierce, warlike people, into a
nation notorious for effeminacy and cowardice, and this
by a simple change in apparel and music, it is quite
possible that our adoption of less Spartan methods of
physical education than those the race has been accus-
tomed to for 700 years, may likewise eventuate in
similar physical decadence.
Of intellectual education, too, little need to be said or
suggested, especially in such venerable presences. I
should feel that I was guilty of the irreverence of the
Goths in the Capitol, who, after a moment's hesitation,
came near and stroked the beards of the Senators, if I
were to presume to speak of intellectual training here.
But one observation I may be permitted to make, or
rather one appeal. That is, that you, gentlemen, should
utilise your college training here, not altogether for
utilitarian purposes. Most of you will pass into the
professions ; and earn your daily bread as doctors, bar-
316 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
risters, soldiers. But it would be, nay, it has been, the
saddest fatality, that the great subhme purposes of
education have stopped short at the crust of bread and
the flagon of wine. The excitement of the bar, the
dissecting-room and the field prove too much for the
hard-worked professional; and those quiet dreamy hours
which perhaps we pictured for ourselves here — the gar-
den nook and our favourite author, the quiet arm-chair
within easy reach of the bookstand or bookshelf, the
hours with the gods, when we would forget life and its
cares — alas ! these, too, become unrealisable, and pass,
like so many dreams of youth, into the lumber-rooms of
memory.
Yet, why should it be so ? Why should this life, so
transient, but so important, be one millgrind from
morning to night, with just an occasional break for
food, or a still rarer interval on the golf-links or at the
bilhard-table ? Have we not mmds as well as bodies ?
And do not these require the daily pabulum of high
thought, if they are not to become hebetated and out-
worn, even in the meridian of our lives ? Nay ! do we
not require intellectual, as distinguished from purely
animal pleasure ? I pity from my heart the professional
man who has to drudge from morning to night, like
Hood's poor sempstress, with never a moment's relaxa-
tion — never the sublime luxury of a lonely hour with
the kings of thought. No success, however great, can
pay back to our world-weary and lonely toiler the
intellectual losses sustained by voluntary banishment
from the society of the great aristocracy of intellect
in every age. But, then, these must be the aristocracy
— nay, even the kings of thought. We may play in
childhood with our little comrades of the slums and
alleys. In middle life we must select our societ3^
And, as we are at perfect liberty to select, let us make
companions of our solitude from the princes of intellect
in every language, and of every age, and of every race
in the world. At first, we are somewhat embarrassed
in their society, just as when we are introduced to some
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 317
great man we feel uncomfortable, until we have grown
accustomed to his greatness. We cannot commune
with our great men from the arm-chair. We must sit
on the tripod to receive the inspiration. But after a
little intercourse we become familiar. Like the visitor
to St. Peter's, the mind expands to the dimensions of
thought, and from potentate and prince, our great author
comes down to our level as familiar and friend. And
once you become happy in his society, you can never
decline to plebeian, or less royal, company again. And
your kings are so near and so approachable ! You must
go to Eome or Florence — to Pitti or Uffizi galleries, to
see the great masterpieces of ancient sculpture. No
plaster cast can give you an idea of the originals. You
must go to Dresden to see the Sistine Madonna. No
engraving or photograph can convey the faintest re-
flection of the surpassing beauty of that eighth wonder
of the world. You must go to London, or Paris, or
Petersburg to hear a great opera, or see a great drama.
The days seem to be departed when a Handel might
stray hither to Dublin, and find here the recognition of
his genius or his work. But the kings of thought are
at your door, and within easy reach of the most modest
purse. You can have an JSschylus for the price of a
game of billiards ; a Homer for a package of cigars ;
Hamlet for a tram-fare. You throw sixpence to a
beggar ; and with it you can buy a king. Sophocles,
Euripides, Homer, Cicero, Dante, Milton, Montaigne
and Macaulay, Bacon and Marcus Aurehus, are all
waiting, in very humble apparel, lest they should frighten
you, down there in O'Connell or Grafton Street, or along
the quays. You can take them up, and carry them home
— the hostages who, 300 years ago, could not be had for
their weight in gold ten times over ; and who were kept
royal prisoners, under lock and key and chain, in the
scriptorium of some fortress-monastery. Now they
are yours ; the kings have become your slaves ; and
they exercise then: kingly magic at your bidding. " Give
m.e a great thought," said Herder, "before I die."
318 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
You have but to wish it, and great thoughts are poured
into j^our mind with all the lavish generosity of genius ;
and not to help you to die, so much as to enable you to
live. And these great thoughts, better than minted
gold or diamonds from Golconda, are yours — to take
with you wheresoever you please. And often, perhaps,
in seasons of defeat and depression, they recur to you
to cheer you, for I believe the most powerful mental
tonic is the magic of a great word. And the great lines
of the world's poetry will come back to you, with all
their melody and sweetness, to haunt you. You have
such lines by the thousand in your Greek — it is not
your grammar, but that subtle sense called taste, that
will reveal them — great mouthf uls of harmonious words,
with such a sweet kernel of thought within them. You
have them in Dante, every line of whom is resonant
with sweet or horrid music. You have them in Milton
and Shakspeare, and Tennyson and Browning, etc.
And is this education ? Yes ! And formation of
character ? Yes ! Whatever tends to sweeten, to purify,
or to exalt, helps to form character. If there are "ser-
mons in stones," there is magic in poetry, the kindly
magic that builds a new heaven and a new earth above
this valley of tears. And, what is more, this education,
or formation of character, may pass from the university
to the cottage, if men were wise enough to conduct it
thither. And strenuously as Irish Cathohcs have to
work, and plead, and organise for the national boon of
university education, university education is not the
end. There is something wider than a university ; and
that is a nation. And when we shall have attained our
desires in that respect, we shall look farther and see
that the education of a university is but the first step
to a wider ambition — to make education universal.
Spartan simplicity of life, purity of morals, and high
thinking — these are the desiderata of our time and race.
A very distinguished French critic, Edmond Scherer,
in his valuable notice on " Wordsworth and modern
poetry," remarks that: "Life is the confluence of two
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 319
currents, the point of intersection between the trajec-
tories of two forces, those of Nature and of Destiny. No
matter what we are ; what we shall be depends on the
accidents of education, the chance meetings of life.
There are even moments when this thought is a trouble-
some one, 'What will the future bring?' 'How shall I
come out of the trial I cannot avoid ? ' For in fact.
Destiny is the stronger, and in the case of most men
she seldom allows Nature to exercise her rights fully."
I quote this remarkable sentence to disagree with it. I
should like to eliminate that ugly and suggestive word
Destiny, and put in its place Freewill, moulded and
formed by that sublime discipline and training which
is the pecuhar province of each soul towards itself.
This brings us to the third department in this matter
of education, and which we may designate " moral ".
This regards not only the formation of character, viewed
as a passive and inoperative faculty or condition ; but
also the conduct of life. It strikes us at once as a most
singular fact that this department of moral training
does not command the same attention as other less im-
portant branches in the vast curriculum of modern
education. The reason is plain. It is left absolutely to
the priest and the Church. It is excluded from the hearth
and the schoolroom. Nevertheless, it is a subject that
requires constant and unceasing attention. I take
to-night one chapter, and only one — our duties to our-
selves — otherwise, self-government — -otherwise, the con-
duct of life.
Now, this moral education is completed in three
ways — I believe I am quoting from Lord Tennyson —
by self-knowledge, self-reverence and self-control.
Given those three ; and with every inherited defect,
and every defect acquired by association, you have,
apart from the supernatural effluences that raise the
soul to another order, the perfect man.
It is a far cry from Thales to Thomas Carlyle —
from the first year of the thirty-fifth Olympiad to the
twentieth century after Christ. But the divergence in
320 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
time is not greater than the divergence in philosophy.
Some thousands of years are not so far apart as the
"know thyself" of Thales, and the "know thy work"
of Carlyle. It may be almost said, that the old Greek
doctrine had governed the world, until the sage of
Chelsea spoke, and spoke in his usual contemptuous
and destructive manner. The philosophers of Greece
accepted it. It was the foundation of all the Socratic
disputatious. It passed into the monastic discipline of
the Church. It is the secret of the great, spiritual
science of meditation, and of the examination of con-
science, recommended to us so strongly. Sometimes
it has been abused, as in the introspection and morbid
mysticism of the Gnostics and Neo-Platonists. But
there it is, that ryvwdi aeavrov of antiquity, the basis
of philosophy, the essential of morality. It is the first
step, the first gi-eat falsehood, or the first great truth,
according as we comprehend it. I think Carlyle was
the first to contradict the experience of centuries and
sages ; and ito give us his own Gospel. Even for this
alone he stands out distinct from his age. Whether it
is an eminence of littleness or greatness is a matter of
opinion. But he protests against that ancient doctrine,
and he protests forcibly : —
" The latest Gospel in this world is, Know thy work,
and do it. ' Know thyself ? ' Long enough has that
poor self of thine tormented thee ; thou wilt never get
to know it, I believe. Think it not thy business, that
of knowing thyself ; thou art an unknowable individual.
Know what thou canst work at, and work at it, like a
Hercules ! That will be thy better plan ! "
Few and simple words ! Yet words to which might be
traced in some measure not a little of that fret and
fever and output of energy, sometimes lawless, some-
times useful and generous, which have characterised
the latter half of the nineteenth century. Might we
not say : If now and again nations and individuals
paused in this tremendous tendency towards expansion
and reproduction, it might be better for themselves and
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 321
for the world? A little leisure, a little meditation, a
little folding of the hands to rest, and that still, small
whisper: "Know Thyself!" might obviate a great
many of our social and political dangers. For how can
you know your work, if you do not know your capacity,
and how can you measure your work if you do not know
your natural limits? How many men find themselves
in wrong places in life, because they have mistaken
their life's work by mistaking their own tendencies and
capabilities ! And surely there is nothing on earth so
saddening, as to see men in great and responsible posi-
tions, without corresponding endowments. They found,
not their own life-work, but the life-work that belonged
to men of larger mental and moral calibre ; and there
they remained to the end, unconscious of their
inferiority and unsuitableness, and confusing and re-
tarding important work, because they never knew
themselves. Indeed, it may be said that the work of
great men in the world is to correct and bring into
clear harmony the confusion effected by fools, as a
Homer might gather into an Iliad the street-ballads of
Greece, or a Napoleon might construct an empire from
street-barricades, or a Code from the sanguinary prin-
ciples of a Eevolution. I think, then, that the first
business of young men setting out on life's Journey is
to know themselves — to know first of all their ten-
dencies, the bent and bias of their minds ; and then
their talents, in order to ascertain whether these latter
are of such a nature as to carry on the selection of a
life's calling to complete success. Men often mistake
their vocations ; still oftener, their powers. Then, you
must know your weaknesses, not with a sense of mor-
bid restlessness to overcome them, but with a view to
guard against the dangers where the inner enemy
might prove traitorous. There is no use, however
optimistic we may be, in denying that life has its pitfalls,
which by foresight we may avoid, out of which we may
emerge badly bruised — from which we may never rise.
But the traitor is not so much the enemy who has dug
21
322 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
the pitfalls as the domestic enemy who has led us thither
— that is, ourselves. Assuredly, of the four classes of
ei8(o\a, or false divinities, which Lord Bacon warns us
against, those of the den, the Idola specus, the false
gods who lurk in the caverns of our own souls, where
the light is imperfectly admitted, and before which we
are so fond of burning incense, and sacrificing truth, are
the most dangerous. Knoio Thyself, therefore, and turn
thine eye inward upon thyself. Other sciences will be
learned at little cost, will come to thee almost without
seeking. But in Self-knowledge is all knowledge ; and
this is not attained without much watchfulness and dis-
interested honesty in judging ourselves.
From this will follow the second condition : Self-
reverence. It may seem at first paradoxical to say so,
because I have been presuming that this Self-knowledge
will reveal mostly hereditary evils, secret defects, the
weakness and wounds of mortal infirmity. How, then,
can this introspection create Self-reverence ? How can
we respect what we have learned to fear and to despise ?
Here, again, we go back to the old sophists ; for it seems
that, apart from revelation, these mighty Greeks did use
up and exhaust all the wisdom of the world, and we find
in Hindu, Egyptian and Greek philosophy, that we are
confronted with this identical paradox — men despis-
ing their bodies, and worshipping them ; making
them to-day vessels of clay, to-morrow the abodes
of gods. The fakir on the banks of the Ganges,
Diogenes in his tub, Socrates in his blanket — all
these despised their bodies ; yet, side by side with
this contempt, we find an almost morbid anxiety
for gorgeous obsequies, stately mausoleums, costly em-
balmings, as if in some mysterious manner the soul
hovered over the crumbling remains, an unseen witness
to the reverence and homage of the survivors. The old
monks took this contempt for the body into Nitria and
Libya ; called the body their enemy, and reduced it to
subjection by fasting and vigils, and smiting with stones
and thorns and chains. The Neo-Platonists again pro-
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 323
tested against this prison-house of earth. Plotinus said
he was ashamed of his body ; and, as Grecian philosophy
permeated the theology of the Church, we find inany of
the Fathers speak of the body so contemptuously that
in our less robust and more sensitive times we must
leave the exact words to imagination. And yet, never
was the Church more sensitive than in these ages about
the reverence due to the living and the dead — from the
sacred anointings, as of a king or a priest, in Baptism,
to the final lustrations with holy water, and the incen-
sation of the corpse, before it was finally lowered into
the tomb. Nay, in the Epistles of that great Saint who
would have been styled the greatest of the philosophers
if he had not been a Christian — I mean St. Paul — we
find what appears to be a similar contradiction : "I
chastise my body " ; "Know you not that your bodies
are the temples of the Holy Ghost ? " And most
modern writers, who are by no means materialists or
rationalists, seem to take this latter view. "You touch
heaven," says Novalis, "when you place your hand on
a human body." I need not trouble you with Shak-
speare or Carlyle.
I confess I incline strongly to this latter view. If
science says : " You are but a httle phosphorus and
water, a piece of saturated earth, of wet dust, which
when it dries shall be dust again ; and how can you
reverence what is so despicable and transitory?" I
answer : "I am something more ! This tremendous
complexity of nerves, and tissues, and muscles, and
brain, is more than you say, is more than any man has
yet discerned. It is an awful revelation — a mystery of
mysteries. Great thinkers have marvelled so much
about it that they have begun to deny its existence.
The fact alone that that one muscle, the human heart,
has never ceased for a moment since my birth to
perform its tremendous office, night and day, is enough
to fill me with wonder. Often at night I hear it
beating, throb by throb sending the red torrents swish-
ing through the narrow canals that narrow still more
21 *
324 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
into the capillaries which feed lungs and brain and
nerve. What is the secret of this mechanism ? Life.
You are only answering one riddle by another ! Yes, I
am a miracle in the midst of miracles. I see nothing,
touch nothing that is not miraculous, at least in the
sense that it is to be wondered at and adored. The
whole firmament of heaven, with all its galaxies of
stars and nebulae, pours its splendours into the narrow
canal of the eye of a little child, and photographs itself
on the retina. Yea, even disease, decomposition and
death are miracles. They mean the evolution of new
organic forms, each as perfect in its organism as myself.
The bacillus of consumption or typhoid proves the exis-
tence of Omniscience as well as the Constellation of Orion.
The infinitely little tells of God as well as the infinitely
great. And so, from the cradle to the grave, through
every form of health or of disease, in every organ, physical
and mental, in the red discs of the blood, in the convolu-
tions of the brain, in the chemical foods that dissolve
and re-form into life, in the agents of disease that lurk for
death, there is that miraculous interchange of energies
that make of these bodies of ours a revelation of unseen
agencies that bring to life or death ; and are for ever oper-
ating in life and death the eternal mystery of Creation."
And so, even under the revelations of science, we see
the truth of the poet : " You touch heaven when you
place your hand on a human body ". And I am happy
to be able to testify that, as science advances, so does
reverence ; and in that great profession that has for its
object the conservation of hfe, and the prevention of
disease and death, the physician or surgeon now ap-
proaches with reverence the patient whose life is to be
saved, and sees in that fleshy tabernacle something
more than a mere subject ; and touches it, no matter
how honeycombed and rendered repulsive by disease, as
gently as he would touch the vessels of the Temple. It
was not always so ; but the irreverence of science is
yielding to the spell of its own revelations. What,
then, shall I say of the higher revelation : " Your bodies
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 325
are the temples of the Holy Ghost " ? Such thoughts
would, perhaps, carry us away from our present treat-
ment. So in presence of such a reflection, we can only'
do what the Jewish scribes did when they met the
name Jehovah or the Elohim in their transcriptions —
veil our faces and pass by.
But what, then, are we to make of the mediaeval
ascetic Theology, nay, even of the modern fast, and the
eternal reminder : " I have one law of my members and
another of the spirit"; "I chastise my body and bring
it under subjection " ? What are we to think of : —
Move upwards, working out the beast,
And let the ape and tiger die ?
Ah, well, this brings us to our last duty of Self-
control. The Christian revelation explains well what
philosophy has never yet even attempted to explain —
the origin and cause of the eternal warfare between
flesh and spirit. There is the fact — which no evolu-
tionist has yet explained — that the beasts infallibly obey
their instincts ; but that man is always in rebellion
against instinct and reason combined. He has been
endowed with the higher faculty — to repudiate its
authority or dethrone it. It is a humiliating exhibition
— " the slave on horseback and the king walking in the
mire ". And the very honour of our nature is at stake
in that tremendous conflict, waged in each heart and
brain, and from which we emerge triumphant, if we get
the slave beneath ; but shamefully dishonoured if the
slave rules and the master grovels below. Here is the
justification of all Catholic asceticism, apart altogether
from the question of merit ; here is the explanation of
Lenten fasts and Friday abstinences, of the austerities
of the Carthusian and Cistercian ; of the rigid obedience
of the Jesuit ; of the poverty and bare feet of the Fran-
ciscan. " I chastise my body."
Move upwards, working out the bea.st.
And let the ape and tiger die.
326 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
It is not the only passage where Tennyson is an apo-
logist for the Church.
There, then, can be no doubt whatsoever of this
paramount duty of self-control. And, like so many
other things, it is a question of habit in the natural
order, of grace in the supernatural. Habit is better
than principle, and habits must be formed in youth if
freedom is to be found in old age. They are tyrants for
good or ill. They carry you gloriously to freedom and
honour, or rush headlong with you to destruction.
" More are made good by exercitation than by nature,"
said Democritus. And there never yet was a fine, pure
soul that might not be ruined by evil habits, nor an evil
inheritance that might not be sweetened and ennobled
by good ones.
And here, at the risk of half-offending, I must make
free with my audience and address myself to specific
evils. We have the Celtic temperament — the tendency
to extremes. We have no middle term ; we scorn the
adage : In medio tutissimus ibis ! " Let us make a name
for ourselves," said the Dubhn Fusiliers the other day,
as they rushed at the impossible, and perished. We are
a branch — an offshoot — of the race that produced a St.
Ignatius and — a Pombal ; first cousins by blood, and
brothers by the adoption of battle, with the race that
produced a Vincent de Paul and a Bossuet ; and also —
a Kobespierre and a Voltaire. We have the same in-
stincts as those which created the Association of the
Propagation of the Faith and discovered America.
But those instincts, too, degenerated until they built a
guillotine on the Place de la Concorde, and put a goddess
of Eeason on the altars of Notre Dame. The faculty is
the same ; but it takes a different bias. It leads to
heroism or destruction. There is no middle term.
Now, this Celtic emphasis is our inheritance — for better,
for worse. And there is no lesson more needed by us,
than this lesson of the necessity of acquiring self-control.
You see the tendency to extremes everywhere — in om-
politics, our literature, our newspapers, our temperance
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 327
societies. Nay, that word "Temperance" has sHpped
in unawares. It has no place here. Most opponents
of the drink-evil repudiate it. They protest that there
can be no such thing. It is drunkenness or total abstin-
ence. Moderation is impossible. They do not preach :
" Control yourselves, like rational men, and children of
God ! Hold the reins firm and let not the beast run
with you!" No! They say: "Come hither, and be
muzzled ; otherwise you v^ill be dangerous to yourselves,
and others ". I daresay these zealous men are right. I
should be very loth to say they are wrong. I am only
instancing the fact to prove that we cannot rest on the
middle term. We are a people of extremes. So, too,
with our speech. The responsibility of words has never
dawned on us. We fling them right and left un-
sparingly. We care not whom we wound in the plea-
sure of uttering sarcastic or satirical language. A
honmot cannot be resisted, no matter how winged with
poison it may be. It is impossible to resist the tempta-
tion to jest. This is not confined to us. The Scoto-
Celt, Carlyle, called Herbert Spencer " an immeasurable
ass," and said Cardinal Newman had the mind of a
rabbit ; the Breton Celt, Eenan, declared Lacordaire's
conferences to be, " theological bufl'ooneries, which, by
force of impudence and eloquence, enlisted admiration
in Notre Dame ". And then our tendency to exaggerate.
We speak in superlatives. We use up all the adjectives
in the language. Fortunately, no one heeds now either
sarcasm or exaggeration. We have grown used to it.
And so, by the extreme use of injudicious words, they
have ceased to have meaning, as great poisons, taken
in little doses, cease to affect the human frame. Then,
our temper I "Anger," says Seneca, "is shortlived
madness." With us, it has a tendency to longevity, for
we rarely part with it ; and to ubiquity, for we carry it
with us everywhere. We are good haters. Other
peoples distinguish. We draw no line. To differ with
us on any most insignificant point is to exasperate us.
And we cannot differ on one point without differing on
328 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
every point in the whole orbit of human experience and
social intercourse. Two English Ministers — Cabinet
and ex-Cabinet — will exchange pretty strong language
across the floor of the House of Commons ; perhaps
they will even break through the paralysis of British
propriety to gesticulate wildly, and emphasise their
contentions. To all outward appearance they are deadly
and implacable enemies. Yet, at eight o'clock, they
are dining at the same table in the grill-room, and ex-
changing views on the latest book or the last telegram
from the Stock Exchange ; and they can meet at a
country house to shoot grouse in the autumn and enjoy
social amenities, and go back to the House of Commons
in January, to resume the old political warfare again.
What is all this? The discipline and training of self-
control, the tacit understanding that none of us is
infallible, at least in all things ; and that, if we are not
of the same mind on politics, or literature, or science,
or education, we can agree to differ on that one platform,
and take up the role of politeness, and even friendship,
on all the other points where we shall possibly be of
one mind, and where our united and harmonious efforts
may help along a weak and tottering cause.
I sometimes occupy myself in my solitude in trying to
conjecture why Irish and French, and Spanish, and
Italian Catholics cannot organise. I am told that there
are barely thirty thousand secularists in France, who
grind beneath their heel some thirty million Catholics.
It is as wonderful as that little army in India, holding
in serfdom those millions of the most intelligent race on
the face of the earth. What is the secret '? Organisa-
tion. But what is the secret of organisation? Dis-
cipline. But what is the secret of discipline ? Self-
control. A cynic said to me once, when discussing this
ever-recurring question : " You see it is this way. We,
Catholics, are members of a powerful organisation, with
an infalhble judgment guiding us ; and an imperial
authority ruling us. So we are compacted, in dog-
matic and ethical matters, into a homogeneous mass,
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 329
from which we cannot break without destruction to
ourselves. Now, the irresistible tendency of human
nature is to expand and disintegrate. Therefore, in
social matters and political matters, our tendency is
against compact unity. We seek freedom ; and we
find it in differing from one another. You cannot
organise socially the members of a perfect religious
organisation. E contra, in other creeds, there is abso-
lute disintegration, every individual an independent
unit ; and each carrying his church under his hat.
Here, there is an irresistible tendency to unite, and form
political associations, which in turn are themselves
irresistible. And so you have societies comparatively in-
significant in number, consolidated into squares that are
as unbroken and irresistible as the infantry at Waterloo.
And you, being but social units, go down before the
wedged and solid mass." There may be something in it.
I prefer to seek the solution in the greater educational
advancement, and consequently, the larger discipline and
power of self-control amongst those who constitute the
rank and file of our opponents throughout the world.
And, perhaps, too, in that half-pathetic, wholly-pro-
phetic Divine utterance : " The children of darkness
are wiser in their generation than the children of light ".
And now a final word. There is a little German
saying : Erjist ist das Leben. We like our texts, like our
meats, disguised ; and a dinner from a French menu
card tastes twice as well. The words are : Life is a
serious thing ! So it is, my young friends. And it can
only be regarded under two aspects. These were pre-
sented to the minds of the older generation by two
books : the Gospel of St. John, and the Nature of
Lucretius. In more modern times their exponents
have been, the Imitation of Christ, and the Buhaiyat of
Omar Khayyam. And it is rather a singular thing
that these two latter are perhaps the most widely
circulated books in our generation. Yet, these two
books are wholly antithetical. Every proposition in the
one can be met by a contradictory in the other.
330 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
If there were no other life, unquestionably the
philosophy of Omar would be in the ascendant. It is
the " eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die ! "
Life should be what it was in their prison to the aristo-
cratic victims of the French Revolution — a round of
amusements, and theatricals, for the tumbrils might
roll into the courtyard at any moment, and our names
be called for the basket. It would be perfectly pardon-
able, nay, it would be the only wisdom, to take the
little round of life as pleasantly, and with as few pains
as possible — without ambition, or love, or anything else
that could disturb our equanimity, until the clock
struck, and we passed out into the unknown. But this
won't do. If there be any instinct stronger than
another within us, it is this very contempt for useless
and wasted lives. If there be any word which we
loathe it is that new word for an ancient vice — Hedonism.
And on the other hand, if there be any instinct within
us to rival that contempt for a merely pleasurable
existence, it is the instinct that all our unspeakable
aspirations, this stirring of the spirit within us, this love
for hard things, this desire of pain, because it makes us
strong, point to a life the very opposite of that dream of
Eastern voluptuousness ; a life, the great w^atchword of
which is that most sacred of syllables — duty. We
need not here seek deeply for the origin or reason
of that reverence which we all feel for that sacred
word ; and our admiration for those, who, perhaps,
made it the crown and end of life. We cannot conceal
our contempt for the voluptuary, who goes out of a
useless life by a painless death. It is not to such we
build temples and erect statues. But to the soldier,
who flings away his life for his country ; to the physician,
ay, more than physician, who, with all his family ties
around him, takes up the typhus and small-pox patient
in his arms, and lavishes on him every care that science
and humanity can suggest ; to the apostle, who goes
out to unknown lands and joins the tribe of narrow
foreheads to redeem them ; to the priest, who becomes
CERTAIN ELEMENTS OF CHARACTER 331
a leper to save the lepers ; to the brave fireman, v^^ho
mounts the ladder and sees beneath him a furnace of
fire, and nothing to save him but the wall that is totter-
ing beneath him ; or to the silent student in the attic,
who is weaving at the cost of life and brain-power
immortal thoughts for his brethren — to all these does
our admiration extend, and their example is a tonic, and
a very needful tonic, for a world that is self-seeking and
pleasure-seeking, and which would like to believe
One flash of Light within the Tavern caught,
Better than in the Temple lost outright.
And upon a lower level the same principles hold.
Pleasure and duty, the Tavern and the Temple are
before us all. The former hold out their hands and
say : Choose ! The latter open their doors, and say :
Enter ! And whether you are a dispensary doctor in
some remote Irish hamlet, thrown amongst the poorest
of the poor, without society, with scanty emoluments ;
or a great physician in Merrion Square, with several
door-bells, and only to be seen by special appointment ;
whether you are mapping a labourer's cottage or a great
exhibition ; defending a paltry Petty Sessions' case, or
engaged in a cause cdlehre in the Four Courts, it is all the
same — Pleasure with its temptations and Duty with
her stern demands are before you ; there stand the
temple and the tavern, and you choose for better, for
worse. For, there in that remote district are your
brethren, the children of the Father ; and you have to
lift up or cast down ; to bring to life or death. Wistful
eyes are turned towards you from the sick bed. A
mother in the toils and throes of a new hfe, or a little
child, only conscious of agony, but who has thrown the
strong cords of love about the weeping father or the
disconsolate mother. And you are the health-bringer,
the life-saver, the giver of hope and joy to the afflicted
and the despairing. Was there ever such a duty — such
a responsibility, or such a reward? This is no Tavern,
but a Temple. Or, some one is wronged — foully wronged
in fortune or character — a widow, an orphan, under
332 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
that fierce aggressive spirit so characteristic of our
times. An appeal is made to Justice — Justice, bhnd-
folded and with the eternal scales in her hands. And
you are the advocate, the pleader for that justice which
the lawless will not give, which the law, put into opera-
tion by you, must enforce. Is not this a solemn duty ?
What place is here for the philosophy of Omar : —
A hair perhaps divides the False and True ;
Yes ; and a single Alef were the clue ?
And, if you sit at your desk at midnight and the
white page is before you to be dotted by your pen with
irrevocable words — again it is pleasure and duty — the
Temple and the Tavern. You can write for lucre, or
for spite ; you can write also for edification, the building
up of the many who will hang upon your words, per-
haps when the hand that penned them is still for ever.
Is not this a solemn thing ? Ernst ist das Leben ! Ay,
there is no place for joking here. You may forget your
responsibilities, but you cannot shirk them. They
follow you everywhere. Life is a serious thing. It
must not be allowed to evaporate in a jest ; but be a
happy round of great duties and simple pleasures. To
meet the former, a strong and tender, cheerful yet
reverent character must be formed. And here you
draw the lines that form that character. From these
your Book of Life shall be printed in letters that last
for eternity. Take care in your daily engraving to allow
no scrape or blot to mar the beauty of the characters
5^ou are forming. But let all the letters be clean and
firm and fair ; so that men reading your life, as men
are wont to read, will find therein little to criticise and
much to edify and enlighten ; and that you yourselves,
in your old age, may be able to turn over page after
page of that Book of Life, and be able to say: "It is
well written, within and without — chaste thoughts, kind
words, noble deeds, cheerful sacrifices for God and man".
Nay, in all humility, and thanking God for it— " It is
not altogether unworthy of a place in the archives of
Heaven ! "
THE LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF
CATHOLIC LITEEATURE.i
The Chubch still Incomprehensible to the World.
It is very difficult for us, who walk securely in the full
noontide of Catholic faith, to understand that the Church
is still, even at this late period in her history, a strange
and irritating puzzle to the world. She is as much a
mystery as in the days when Pagan Rome was appalled
by its credulous and puerile acceptance of the horrible
calumnies about the Christians that were whispered in
the baths by the Tiber and in the galleries of the
Coliseum ; and when, on the other hand, the same Pagan
city was equally mystified, but unto edification, by the
love which these Christians bore towards each other.
In our days, the calumnies are become but faint echoes
of the fierce, unscrupulous bigotry of the past ; and
if some poor unfrocked cleric holds forth in a little
Bethel in England, or some Town Hall in the Colonies,
men go to hear him, rather with the pruriency that
demands sensational and revolting details, than with
any disposition to accept or beheve them. Nevertheless,
we remain the world's great enigma ; and if just now,
owing to the influence of the great personality that has
passed away, and the convergence of certain political
and social influences, we are somewhat fawned upon,
and even admired, we, in our corporate union with the
Church, are still the great phenomenon, the secret of
1 This article was prepared in the first iastanco as an address to
the Catholic Truth Society of Ireland. — P. A. S.
333
334 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
whose permanence and solidity amidst the vast fluc-
tuations of modern life, neither reason, nor sense, nor
science can adequately explain to those who are not of
the household of the faith. They say to us : " You
are fairly intelligent, and yet you accept mysteries that
are incomprehensible ; you are lovers of liberty, and
haters of despotism, — nay, sometimes, you become pain-
fully emphatic in your assertion of individual freedom —
and yet you meekly bow your stubborn necks under the
yoke of an old priest, hidden behind the walls of a
Eoman palace or prison ; you are fairly sociable beings,
and we like you well enough at our afternoon teas, or
at a tennis party, but then you ruthlessly snap asunder
every tender tie of human affection, and the fairest and
best amongst you bury themselves in obscure convents,
and wear ill-fitting clothes, and break every sacred and
time-honoured distinction between class and class, and
actually leave ' their own set ' to go down and become
the servants of the horrid poor. It is all unintelligible,
unreasonable — so unintelligible that we are ready to cry
with vexation over the puzzle." And so a stumbling-
block to the unlettered and ignorant, a mystery to the
learned, the Church pursues its wonderful career ; and
the attitude of the world towards it is unchanged and
unchangeable.
The Woeld also a Mystery to the Children of the
Church.
On our side, too, there is a certain amount of surprise
and amazement about the world. We cannot under-
stand its stupidity and malevolence. We do a great
deal to make intelligible our position, and we fail. We
make certain bold or timid approaches, and we are re-
pelled. We put out a tremendous amount of energy,
and we find we are ploughing the desert, and sowing
seed upon the barren sea. We meet objections and
destroy them, and they crop up as lively as before.
We confute our opponents, and lo ! they are not con-
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 335
futed. We scatter the myths and superstitions of the
world, as the sun scatters the mists of the morning ;
and lo ! they become as dark and as crass as before. It
seems positively pitiful — that immense output of energy
that our brethren in England are daily and hourly
making — those splendid sermons and lectures, those
beautiful and elaborate ceremonies, that perfect ritual
and music, those saintly, and self-sacrificing, and de-
voted lives ; and then the utterly disproportionate
results — a convert here and there, a little more respect
for Catholicity, the saving from apostasy and perdition
of the poor Irish in the slums — that is all ! We cannot
understand it. We cannot see why all England is not
at the feet of Peter and of Christ.
France, too, shocks us with the same sense of dis-
proportion, " How can that country," we ask, " which
has the miracles of Lourdes before its eyes, which has
heard, and even boasted of, Paray-le-Monial and La
Salette, which poured eighty thousand pilgrims annually
into the little hamlet where an old priest created another
Bethlehem and Assisi, stand by coolly and assent to
the horrors that are being enacted in our own time?"
We are puzzled and shocked, until we recall the life of
the Chm'ch's Divine Founder, and remember that the
very same Jews that heard the awful words : " Lazarus,
come forth ! " and saw the swathed form rise up in
horrible majesty from the tomb, and unfolded the very
napkin that bound his head, formed part of the very
crowd that but a few days later shouted, " Crucify him !
Crucify him!" to the Omnipotent Wonder-worker,
whose power and glory they beheld.
Do Catholics Sufficiently Appeeciate the Power
OF Literature in the Present Age ?
Yet, while we shake our heads, and console ourselves
by such reflections, as we witness the folly and blind-
ness of men, it is well for us, Catholics, sometimes, and
especially in Ireland, where we are so highly favoured
336 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
by God, to consider if we are really doing all in our
power to make our position intelligible to the world,
and our happiness communicable. This is all the more
urgent, because, whilst there are amongst us certain of
our brethren who are captious and censorious under the
influence of that dangerous element in modern life —
the little learning that puffs up with pride — there are at
the same time many more who, under the influence of
holy guides, are waking up not only to a sense of duty
as Catholics, but to a conception of the tremendous
possibilities that lie before us in Ireland, with such
splendid resources of faith, inteUigence and disinterest-
edness as we possess. Let us, therefore, look closely to
our weapons and see what are polished and perfect ;
and let us see where we have allowed the rust to gather.
We certainly cannot blame ourselves for want of zeal
in material matters. What this impoverished country
has done during the last fifty years in erecting churches,
schools, convents, monasteries, hospitals and asylums
would be incredible if we ourselves were not witnesses
of it. Neither can we be reproached for lack of zeal in
our priestly ministrations, or in the silent but effective
labours of our vast and well-organised sodalities and
confraternities. If any hostile or critical examiners into
the details of the working of our Catholic system should
say to us, as they said to Frederick Ozanam : " Show
us your work ! " we could promptly challenge criticism,
and fear no comparison with the efforts of other
Churches. Where, then, do we fail ?
In this, I believe that we have not yet fully recognised
the vast importance of literature as a means of conveying
Catholic truth to the world. We have been hoarding
up our treasures without a desire of sharing them.
We have been building pools of Solomon, but, unlike
the all-wise king, we have forgotten the aqueducts.
The Lord said : Go forth, and teach ! We are content
to say : Come and learn !
"The children of the world are wiser in their gener-
ation than the children of light." From the printing-
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 337
presses of the world pours forth, day by day, a stream
of pollution, poisoning the minds of the young and inex-
perienced, and preparing the way by its solvent and
destructive properties for those social and political up-
heavals that threaten the destruction of civilisation.
You may easily trace all the evils of the world to corrupt
literature. The English Deists of the eighteenth cen-
tury, Toland, Shaftesbury, Tindal, Mandeville, Boling-
broke, inspired the Diderot and Helvetius and Holbach
of the EnmjGlopadia. Rousseau created the French Re-
volution. Voltaire inspires the attack on the Religious
Orders in France to day. Mazzini completed the spoli-
ation of the Roman States. Tolstoi creates a railway
strike in Pittsburg. The Rationalist Press of London
is, I am sorry to say, pouring out by the million its
copies of works, nominally scientific, positively blas-
phemous and aggressive. You may see these infamous
booklets, endorsed by names famous in science and
literature, selling at sixpence even in our Catholic
cities ; and you may see them advertised and recom-
mended in newspapers owned by Catholics. I have
read these books, and can testify that an untrained
mind would suffer serious injury to faith, if without
precaution or antidote it read these books which are
standard volumes on irreligion and infidelity.
Now, we have not yet fully realised the far-reaching
importance of the written word. I do not mean Holy
Scripture only, but literature in its thousandfold aspects.
Perhaps we lean too much on the spoken word. Per
haps we think too much of the " predica verbum "
("Preach the Word") of St. Paul, and think too httle
of the solemn quotations with which our Lord verified
His every word and act : It is loritten ! There seems to
me a solemn significance in this. I wish I could claim
the idea as an original one — that our Divine Master
did defend, as if placed beyond all doubt by the assertion.
His attitude, His language. His very miracles by quot-
ations from the prophets and Moses. "It is written ! "
"Is it not written ? " As if these words were an affirm-
22
338 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
ation, equivalent to an incontrovertible proof, that
His actions were not only justified by the words, but
that even a forecast of them was given in the great
prophetic books. So, too, when Dives besought Abraham
to send a messenger from eternity, a preacher to his
brethren in the flesh, he was coldly answered : " They
have Moses and the Prophets ! " And the Church it-
self, whilst rightly claiming to be the living Voice of
God to the faithful, supports its claims, its teaching,
its prerogatives by an appeal to the Written Word :
Scriptum est ! Hence those splendid Encyclicals that
come to the world periodically from Kome, and that
remain in their magnificent perfection, unassailable by
criticism — the Word of God to the hearts of the faithful
to edify, to the hearts of the incredulous to irritate or
condemn. But do we possess such a literature ? Have
we anything written that we may show without fear or
shame ?
Colossal Monuments op Catholic Literatuee.
It is a singular question, and may provoke a smile
amongst many grave theologians or philosophers here
present, who understand better than I the colossal lab-
ours of our Fathers, theologians and saints. Some day,
when general education is more advanced, the world,
especially that world that lies within the walls of uni-
versities, will wake up, and stare, as men stare to-day,
at Baalbec or the Pyramids or the Sphinx, at the stu-
pendous intellectual output of the Fathers of the Church.
They will ask with a certain amount of surprised in-
creduhty. Did Augustine really write these immense
volumes, replete with such close, consecutive, and
exalted thought, that it is difficult to believe a merely
human intelligence evolved it ? They will stare at the
twenty-two folio volumes of Suarez, broad pages and
double columns, and refuse to admit that one man in a
rather short span of life did pen down these columns
after columns of abstruse and recondite reflection. They
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 339
will try and put the sharp penknife of criticism between
the gigantic monoliths that build up the Summa of St.
Thomas, and then admit that it is a perfect whole with-
out flaw or break or a single pause in its logical continuity.
And they will realise that in our own time the Church
is neither barren nor decrepit, if they can be brought
face to face with the products of the great intellectual
activity of Catholic writers in France and Italy and
Germany ; and they will be taught to see that the great
lords of thought, whom the world has placed on its
pedestals, are pigmies compared with the intellectual
giants born, reared, nurtured and developed by the great
Mother Church of the ages and of the world. And per-
haps it will be the first great lesson that shall be learned
by our own young students, when they shall have paced
the corridors of a Catholic University for a year or two,
that Shakspeare was not "the greatest mind that God
ever created," nor was Carlyle the "greatest of the
prophets " ; that Herbert Spencer is not the doyen of
the world of thought to-day, nor is Haeckel the "heir
of all the ages " in the domain of speculative or experi-
mental thought. But, as I have said, we know nothing
of our greatest men. We have the pools of Solomon
without the aqueducts ; vast quarries, but no statues ;
treasures beyond price or calculation, but the key is lost.
No man yet has found it.
The Gospel of " The Man in the Street ".
All this, however, concerns the student of the closet
and the class-hall. What about "the man in the street"?
And this is a generic term, rather broad in its meaning,
for it includes the lady in her boudoir, the artisan in
his workshop, the labourer in his cottage, the com-
mercial behind his counter, the teacher in his primary
school — every one, in a word, who has no hope of
wearing an ermine or silk hood and a square cap. And
again, let me insist on the necessity of the "written
22*
340 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
word," this time backed by the pagan authority of
Horace, though used in a somewhat different sense : —
Segnius irritant auimos demissa per aurem
Quam qurt) sunt oculis subjecta tidelibus.
Can we have any doubt about it ? Will any one tell
me that the girl who pushes the perambulator before
her with the right hand, whilst she holds the novelette
in the left, does not take her gospel, her code of ethics,
her very religion, from that book, and not from the
sermon which she heard imperfectly and distractedly
last Sunday '? Will any one maintain that the news-
paper read in the club, in the taproom, by the fireside,
by the ordinary artisan and labourer, does not grave
deeper the lines of character than the pulpit-words
heard the previous Sunday ; and alas ! forgotten as
soon as heard ? Where does the lady of fashion get
her ideas of things in general ? And if those ideas are
not very exalted — if they range from the price of a
feather to the altitudes of a desirable engagement, or
from a ball dress to a horse show, who is to blame ?
What have we given the world in poetry ? We had
one great poet ; but we promptly banished him to a
Franciscan monastery. In fiction ? In lectures ? In
essays? In the thousand and one channels through
which thought may be made to filter, and irrigate unto
wholesome fife and profit the vast, and barren, and deso-
late wastes of the human mind?
Of course you do not for a moment take me as playing
the ungracious part of an Advocatus Dlaholi ; or seeking
to incriminate the whole Catholic community in a
wholesale charge of indolence and culpable negligence.
Quite the contrary ! It would be a strange thing if I
could stand here, without admitting, generously and
gratefully, the noble work that has been done by the
Catholic Truth Society of Ireland. The prudent and
zealous labours of its officials and committee, the great
sacrifices of time and toil they have made, the judgment
that has guided them, and the zeal that has urged them
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 341
on, deserve a most grateful recognition on the part of
the priests and the people of Ireland. May I add that
they have received their reward in the great and unpre-
cedented success that has attended their efforts ? Yes,
gentlemen of the CathoHc Truth Society, "You have
cast your bread on the running waters, and after many
days it will return " !
Fetteks of the Catholic Wbiter : He Cannot
Appeal to Libidinous Passion.
Neither am I insensible to the iron limitations that
surround and embarrass, whilst they shield the Cathohc
writer. We can have no wish to conceal them or deny
their existence, because their restraints are not only our
apology, but our glory and our pride. We can never
hope to produce a literature as attractive and popular
as the world's hterature, because we can never appeal
to the two great elements of popularity — passion and
untruth ! So long as human nature is human nature it
will seek excitement, scenes of dramatic interest, sugges-
tive and voluptuous thoughts, dangerous and lascivious
situations ; and these we cannot give. Our fiction, our
poetry, our drama, our art must be, above all things,
pure ; and, as the passions arc atheists, the world will
hardly care for the cold, pure holiness of the Catholic
ideal. A CathoHc writer would rather put his right
hand into the fire than write much that passes for art
and literature in our days. Hence, I have no toleration
for those who cry out : We want a Burns ! We want a
Tolstoi or an Ibsen ! Even as poets, I would not com-
pare for a moment Kobert Burns with our own Moore
and Mangan ; and no man or maid need blush for the
melodies of the former, whilst Mangan was so scrupu-
lously pure that he made the greatest sacrifice a poet
can make by watering down in his translations the
rather burning words of German or Irish poets. No !
the cry of every Cathofic heart must ever be : Perish
art and science and literature, rather than issue one
342 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTrRES
word that could originate an unholy thought, or bring
to the cheek of the innocent an unholy flame ! But
this is a drawback, a limitation within which we are
strictly bound, whilst the world wantons with vice and
secures popularity.
He Cannot Discard Divine Truth.
Still more stern in its limitations on Catholic litera-
ture is Divine truth. Here there can be no indulc,'ence,
no compromise. A non-Cathohc wi'iter is absolutely
unfettered in his choice of subjects, in his quotations
and authorities, in his treatment of historical, philo-
sophical or ethical problems. He wanders at his own
sweet will wherever he pleases. No monitor warns him,
no tribunal judges him, no authoritative voice checks
him in his daring com'se, and if he is contumacious,
condemns and annihilates him, until he becomes a pro-
verb. The whole universe is before him ; and he may
revel in every absurdity without let or hindrance. He
is absolutely unrestricted, unshackled. The press may
censure him. It only helps to sell his books. He may
be denounced from the pulpit, although that is a rare and
remote possibilit}'. The congregation, jDiqued with curio-
sity, promptly buys his volumes and condemns his critics.
"Where every one has liberty of conscience, wh}- should
any one dare say what is truth or untruth ? It is a
purely subjective matter. What is one man's food is
another man's poison. And who shall dare interfere ?
There is no authority but reason. And who shall say
what is reasonable and what is not ? Lord Bacon says
that Pilate jested when he asked that a\^•ful question.
What is truth ? I doubt it. He was too much fright-
ened to jest. But I know the world is always jesting
when it asks ridiculously and contemptuously : ^\Tiat is
truth ? Pilate did not ask for an answer ; neither does
the world. And hence, disbelieving the existence of
truth, it has every indulgence for error. And its writers
have a free hand, a fair field and every favour.
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 343
Far different is the position of a Catholic writer. He
must write in the solemn, majestic presence of Truth,
which he has learned to love and revere all his life.
And if tempted by ambition, or avarice, or a desire of
fame, to ignore or forget her, there stands by the eternal
monitor. Conscience, to rebuke and to remind him that
he must write as if from his deathbed, and leave no line
that he should wish to blot. And if still forgetful of
such silent but powerful admonition, he should try to
stifle it and write for the mere applause of men, he will
find a hundred critics who will pounce down on every
word and syllable, and bring it to the touchstone. If
still heedless or contemptuous, the ecclesiastical author-
ity of his diocese is invoked. And if yet contumacious
and emboldened by treacherous praise, he perseveres in
representing error as truth, the supreme authority on
earth intervenes, and that is the "stone cut from the
mountain, and filling all the earth, and whoever it
toucheth is shattered and destroyed ". Hence, a
Catholic philosopher, sitting at his desk, has to draw his
lines with the utmost circumspection ; a Catholic his-
torian has to be endowed with almost superhuman powers
of discrimination to find the truth amidst the factious
misrepresentations of rival cliques or creeds ; a Catholic
poet must guard himself against too daring flights of
imagination; and a Catholic mystic must be ever fearful
lest he should touch those bounds beyond which it is at
least temerarious to pass. Is all this regrettable ? Cer-
tainly not ! It is quite right and proper. The Church
is not sent to teach Art, or History, or Poetry. It is
sent to teach and safeguard truth. It is the vicarious
representative of Him who is " the Way, the Truth and
the Life" ; who said, "You shall know the Truth and
the Truth shall make you free," who departed from
earth to send in His place "the Spirit of Truth, who
would teach all Truth, and abide with His Church for
ever ". Hence, we never hear of " Catholic Literary
Societies," or " Catholic Art Societies," or " Catholic
Science Societies". But we do hear of "Catholic
344 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Truth Societies," as if the very name "Catholic" were
inseparably associated with " Truth."
Catholic Literature Eepugnant to the Corrupt
Heart of Man which Chafes against Ee-
straint and Hankers after Error.
Nevertheless, all this protection and safeguarding of
Divine Truth is a restriction upon literary efforts. The
corrupt heart of man dislikes it. It hates restraint.
It hankers after error. There is nothing so surprising
in all human history as the manner in which the
Israelites in the very visible Presence of Jehovah, within
sound of His Voice, and touch of His Hands, leaned
over and reverted to idolatry. It is inexplicable that
right under the lightnings of Sinai they should build
their golden idol and worship it. But we need not
wonder. We see the same thing in our own times.
The corrupt mind of man is for ever chafing against
restraint ; but most of all against intellectual restraint.
Hence it hates Truth. Truth, clearly defined and out-
lined, is an iron bar, bolted across the pride of intellect ;
and man's mind revolts against this limitation of its
freedom, and seeks to free itself. Hence, Catholic
philosoph}^ with that sacred word "Veritas" written
and stamped on every page, can never be quite as
popular as the v^ild visionings and imaginings of the
metaphysical dreamer, who builds up his cloud-castles
on airy foundations, and who does not even pretend
that they are true or can last, or be anything more than
"the baseless fabric of a vision". So, too, a Catholic
historian, who has to sift and discriminate, and then
testify to historical facts, can never tell with the read-
ing public like the delightful romanticists, such as Mr.
Froude, whose histories are a happy blend of fact and
fiction. And if a Catholic essayist ventures upon a dis-
cussion on social, political or economic subjects, he is
brought bolt upright against decisions, acts, legislations,
or warnings, that limit his speculations v^ithin the
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 345
domain of what is strictly ethical, according to the mind
of the Church.
Within its Limitations, what aee the Possibili-
ties OF Catholic Litekatuee?
But now we come to the question : Whether within
those limitations, which we hold to be strictly righteous
and just, there is a field for Catholic literature ? Has it
any possibilities? And we answer without hesitation,
Yes, and a wide field, and many and varied possibilities !
And first, with regard to the subjects that interest the
learned and the educated, I hold that there is a great
future before Catholic philosophy, if only we can bring
it down in the vernacular of each country, from the
library shelf to the desk, from the pulpit of the pro-
fessor to the arm-chair or the dining-table. Again, let
me repeat, we have the pools of Solomon without the
aqueducts. And the great aqueduct of the modern
world is what is known as Style. Here I know I am at
issue with many who have thought more deeply or
perhaps judged more wisely than I. I have some dim
recollection that a certain noble lord, in a review of a
certain remarkable and recent treatise on philosophy,
did praise the book in a special manner for its dry,
scientific, naked style of argument, as being the only
style suited for philosophical or metaphysical discus-
sion. That may be true for the schools. But I am
now speaking for the arm-chair and the dining-table ;
and I contend that, inasmuch as it is style — the perfec-
tion of sentences, the symmetry of periods, the crisp and
perfect fitting word, the rhythm and resonance of that
best organ of communication, well-written and har-
monious language — that brings the dangerous writings
of unbelievers into the drawing-rooms of the leisured
and the cultured, so we must study and emulate the
same style if we ever hope to carry philosophic truth
beyond the threshold of the college classroom.
Why is Rousseau still read ? For his philosophy ?
346 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
No ! That is too absurd. For his style? Yes ! What
is the attraction of Tyndall ? Science ? No ! That is
now commonplace. Style ? Yes ! And Renan, Hux-
ley, Spencer — all are stylists ; and it is not for what
they say, but for the way in which they say it, that a
place is reserved for them on the shelves of the learned.
Here is a broad field for the Catholic writer, un-
ploughed, unfilled, except for what Newman, Balmez,
Brownson, and a few more have done.
Untilled Fields : The Drama, the Art and
THE Subjects.
Then again there is the drama. You who visit
theatres know better than I w^hat a powerful educa-
tional factor for good or ill the stage is. You re-
member what a sensation such a religious represen-
tation as The Sign of the Cross created in your
cities. Now, here we are absolutely barren. Let me
put it more gently — here there are vast possibihties
before us. I do not know any great Catholic dramatist,
except Calderon ; and Calderon's works are practically
unknown. Dramatic art, indeed, appears to have died
out everywhere. It is a characteristic of our age ; and
I do not quite understand its significance. But for a
young, ambitious, aspiring Cathohc author, I do not
know any more immediate way to fame and the hearts
of the people than a vigorous, well-knit and inspiring
presentment of some great Catholic truth, or fact, or
some scene from history, placed on the stage, and
challenging the admiration of pit, boxes and stalls.
And what a wealth of subjects, embarrassing in their
perfect adaptation to the wants and tastes of the public !
The whole range of the historj^ of the three first cen-
turies ; the mysteries of the Catacombs ; the holocausts
in the amphitheatres ; the nobility of the mart3TS ; the
variety of races, Eoman, Greek, Numidian, Asiatic; the
deserts of Libya ; the schools of Alexandria ; the apos-
tasy and persecution of Juhan ; the greatness of Con-
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 347
stantine ; the Crusaders ; Canossa ; the Moorish empire
in Spain ; the Albigenses ; Savonarola and the Medici ;
Avignon ; Hernando Cortez and Mexico ; Las Casas ;
the French Revolution ; the Irish Famine — here are but
a tithe of the subjects that have unquestionably the
germ and potency of being developed into great and en-
during dramatic representations. The novelist has
already exploited them. Kingsley went to Alexandria
for Hypatia ; Sienkiewicz to the Coliseum for Quo Vadis ;
Dickens to the French Revolution for his Tale of Two
Cities ; you will remember many more ; but there is the
Art, there are the subjects, there are the expectant
pubhc. But where is the man ?
Fiction : Its Mattee and its Form.
To come down to the general mass of readers. In the
department of fiction, we have done a great deal ; but a
great deal remains to be done. Here again we have
great possibiHties. We have not used up a fraction of
the subjects that lie under our hands, and are supremely
interesting. For example, town and city hfe have
hardly yet been touched here in Ireland. Our novelists
are still walking in the footsteps of Carleton, Banim,
and Gerald Griffin. The priest, the rebel, the police-
man still hold the stage. Cannot we make a break ?
Here in your own city are subjects, characters, in-
cidents, accidents, student-life, professional-life, re-
hgious-life, soldier-life, slum-life, social-Kfe, that seems
to be clamouring for another Charles Dickens. What
do we want? A little observation, a little fancy, the
power of photographing with the pen, and — success.
But, here let me say, we must be above all things
human. Say what we like, man is the most interest-
ing little being on this planet ; and Catholic writers
must really try and come down from the skies and
present the little puppet in his most attractive shape.
And, if we want to teach the world through the novel
348 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
we must not aim at being too didactic. The world
takes its philosophy in homoeopathic doses, or through
a quill. If we want to teach it, we must laugh with it
and weep with it. It is the secret of the enormous and
abiding popularity of Charles Dickens. Tears, smiles,
laughter, horror, blend in all his pages, and all circle
around his inimitable creations, which are essentially
and individually human.
And if I may introduce the subject here with all
reverence, it is this very human element that creates
and conserves the permanent popularity of the Holy
Scriptures, especially the New Testament. No artist
could ever conceive anything half so touching as that
scene in the house of Simon, the Pharisee ; or the
weeping of our Lord with the sisters above the grave
of Lazarus ; or the loud sobs of Peter, as he leaned his
head against the cold wall of Pilate's palace in the
midnight, and bemoaned his horrible denial ; or that
scene in the garden, and the words : " Mary i " " Kab-
boni ! " And did you not notice how all the teaching
of our Lord was divinely human, and all His parables
and .illustrations taken from homely, everyday life ?
The sower in the fields ; the master of the vineyard ;
the shepherd seeking the lost sheep ; the poor woman
sweeping the floor for the wretched coin ; the foolish
virgins ; the sparrows on the housetop ; the grass of the
field. " Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow ;
they labom' not, neither do they spin ; and yet Solomon,
in all his glory, was not clothed like one of these." "I
would give all that Raphael ever painted," said Carlyle,
in his old age, " to see the face of the young Jew who
spoke these words." And so say we all.
Biography: What Constitutes its Charm.
If all this be true of fiction, it is still more true of
that department of literature, biography. Here again
is another unfilled field, with vast possibifities of de-
velopment. We know little of our greatest men ; and
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 349
the truth is we want to know all about them. When
you come to that time of life when you grow tired of
fiction, you naturally turn to fact. And the facts you
seek, and which have the greatest attraction for you,
are the facts in the lives of your fellowmen, especially
those whom you have come to love or to admire. It
has been said, with truth, that there is an interesting
picture to be made out of every human life, the lowest
as well as the highest ; but the interesting thing about
life is its human side, its passions, hopes, virtues, as-
pirations, habits, thoughts, feehngs. We all hke dearly
to see the inside of the mansion where dwells the human
soul ; we want the blinds taken down, and the windows
raised, and the roof taken off, that we may see all the
particulars of the interior. The same instinct that
drives people to an auction drives them to a biography.
It may not be a lofty instinct ; but just now we are
considering how to capture human nature ; and human
nature wants to pry into every secret recess of character
and mind. Why do two or three thousand people yearly
visit Craigenputtock, where Carlyle wrote his Sartor
Besartus ; and why do many more visit No. 5 Cheyne
Kow, Chelsea, now turned into a Carlyle Museum ?
They want to know all about the man, endeared to
them by his own writings, but still more by the very
candid biography of his friend, Mr. Froude. They want
to see his desk, his chair, his coffee-pot, his pipes, to fit
on his hats, to see the spot where he wrestled with
Frederick, the garden where he smoked with Tennyson,
and where on sleepless nights he saw the dawn break-
ing behind London and the stars paling in the western
sky. And his own inimitable pen and ink sketches —
how we remember these ! Tennyson, with his shock
head of dusky hair and smoking infinite tobacco ; Cole-
ridge, large, unwieldy, with his eternal " subject " and
" object" ; Lamb, with insuperable propensity to gin ;
Mill, with his white face when he came to tell of the
holocaust made by the French Bevoluticni. These are
the things that interest men ; and the Catholic bio-
350 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
grapher will do well to follow, while he conve3^s at the
same time the grandeur, the holiness, the sweetness
that must ever belong to any Catholic hero whose hfe is
worth writing or reading. We want to see our great
men with all their faults, wrinkles and all painted in, in
order that by our perception of what is human in them
we may recognise them as brothers, and receive the
conviction that their greatness is not beyond our emula-
tion, as their faults are not beyond our compassion and
pity. And we want their letters — the outpouring of
their hearts to friends, not the clear-cut, polished and
reserved communications that are intended for press
and posterity ; but the candid communications of friend
to friend, made in the moments when reserve was flung
aside, and all the man's soul was laid naked before us.
The Mission of the Catholic Pbess.
These, then, are the possibilities of Catholic litera-
ture ; and they are wide and deep enough for any
ambition, however great. You will see I have said
nothing of the press, because it hardly comes under the
scope of this paper. Let me quote the words of the
late Pontiff, " A good Catholic paper is a mission in each
parish " ; and the conjecture of another writer that if
St. Paul were living to-day he would be probably a
great journalist.
Catholic Literary Kenaissance.
But just here comes in the supplementary question,
granted all these possibilities, good writers, wholesome
reading, poetry, fiction, philosophy, biography, what
about the possibility of finding a Catholic reading pub-
lic? Must we fall back on the ancient platitude, that
supply will create demand ; or may we rather hope that
in an universal intellectual awakening Ireland shall not
be backward, but in her eagerness for "Light, more
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 351
Light," shall create the Light-Bringers, the literary
workers of this generation ? There can be no doubt of
the fact that the spirit of intellectualism is abroad, I can
testify that in America, the Church, having accomphshed
its material work in church-building, school endowments,
etc., is turning its attention to the more intellectual
demands of the age. The great cities have their Catho-
lic Beading Circles, little coteries where books are dis-
cussed week by week, and nothing original or novel
is permitted to escape unnoticed. At their summer-
schools, lectures are daily delivered by priests and lay-
men, eminent in some department or other of science
or literature. Priests far away in the Western States,
on the very outskirts of civilisation, are accumulating
vast hbraries, and utilising the solitary intervals between
their arduous calls in studies that keep them fully in
touch with modern civilisation. And at home there is
unquestionably a great educational revival. Men are
getting tired of all this grubbing and delving for gold at
such immense and costly sacrifices in body and soul.
They are beginning to perceive that life is not worth
living if it has to be spent in perpetual fever and fret
after the imaginary happiness of wealth. And with this
they are beginning to perceive that the best gifts of God
lie beneath their hands. Here is the first and healthiest
symptom of the general level hng up of the masses, not
to the standard of wealth, but to the standard of culti-
vation and taste. The Governments of the world,
adapting themselves to the ever-increasing democratic
spirit of the age, will have to provide museums, music,
art galleries, libraries, for the great toiling masses ;
capitahsts will have to give their operatives time for
mental rest and cultivation ; Nature must be allowed to
claim back her sick children from slums and streets
and factories ; religious and intellectual socialism will
kill political socialism ; and literature and rehgion,
hand in hand, will be interpreters and pioneers of the
New Order of things.
352 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTURES
Eoot-Malady of the Irish Character and its
Eemedy.
I know no more hopeful sign of the century
whereon we are just entering than this intellectual
renaissance. Hitherto, and even still, we are fighting
against ignorance, prejudice and passion. Under the
new dispensation we shall have to appeal to wisdom,
liberal and unprejudiced minds, and human beings who
shall have learned to curb and restrain themselves.
For I am distinctly of opinion that all the evils we
have been hitherto combating — drink, idleness, un-
thrift, emigration — are symptomatic of a deeper
evil, a root-malady, that underlies all and vitiates
all. You will find that root-malady in a certain flaw
or defect in our national character, sometimes called
servility, sometimes Celtic effervescence and want of
stability, sometimes otherwise designated. But what-
ever be your diagnosis of the malady, I can see but one
remedy ; and that is, the larger enlightenment of the
people, and the creation of a certain independence or
individualism, by which each soul shall walk its own
way, unattracted by custom or fashion, and undeterred
by the fickle and foohsh opinions of men. But this
radical remedy can only come from principle and habit ;
principles can only be formed from ideas ; and where
are these elementary and wholesome ideas to come from?
And how are they to filter down and interpenetrate the
minds of the masses of our people '? Clearly, through
the book, the magazine, the newspaper, the pamphlet,
the leaflet — through essay and article, poem and lecture,
play and novel, through the fiction of drama and
romance, through the facts of history and biography.
Can we supply these ? Hitherto great work has been
done ; but greater remains to be accomphshed. Men
will demand meat, and not milk. A masculine litera-
ture alone can meet their wants, and reflect credit on
us. So far as great principles and thoughts are con-
cerned, we have them already garnered and enshrined.
LIMITATIONS AND POSSIBILITIES OF LITERATURE 353
The great problem is, can we give them to the world in
an acceptable and accessible shape ?
Universal Vocation of Catholics.
If not, our place will soon be supplied by the poison-
ous, deleterious literature of the age. Already, as I
have said, it is in our midst, and we cannot keep men's
hands from it. It is a horrible thought. It seems like
a kind of obsession, this frantic desire on the part of
scientific unbelievers to break down the faith of the
masses. Perhaps it is not taken seriously in England.
And if rehgion, too, to us meant nothing more than the
listening to good music and a weary sermon on Sunday
morning, followed by a full-dress church parade, each
individual conscientiously and faultlessly attired — bien
coiffe, bien gante, bien ohausse — this deadly onslaught
against Christianity would mean nothing, and cause less
trouble than the bursting of a glove - button or the
disarrangement of a feather. But, when religion is
everything to us, high as heaven, deep as hell, wide as
space, overshadowing and interpenetrating all things,
the breath of our nostrils, the staff in our hands, our
rock-shelter from the heat ; and whereas the main-
tenance of that rehgion is the one thing of supreme
importance to our poor, whose lives without the eternal
promises would be intolerable, it behoves us all, clergy
and laity, to see whether we perceive in ourselves those
mind - searchings and twitchings of the heart which
those must suffer who have either the responsibilities
of high office, or the cares of minds that believe that
here all is endangered, and all is at stake. The sappers
and miners of modern infidelity cannot do much harm
on an airy fabric built on no particular foundations ;
but when we hear them digging their mines beneath
the City of God we must be vigilant and concerned to
throw the searchlights of Catholic Truth along the dark
ways and subtle windings of error. Such is the vocation
of all ; and such in a very special manner is the mission
23
354 EARLY ESSAYS AND LECTUBES
of the Catholic Truth Society through the propaga-
tion of Cathohc hterature, through the expansion and
development of what we already possess, through the
creation of fresh thought by the judicious encourage-
ment of j^oung writers whose very diffidence may be a
proof of their genius, and, above all, by the steady cir-
culation among the great toihng masses of great and
ennobling thoughts, which will interest and edify, con-
sole and strengthen, hft them a little above the sordid
interests of life, and lift them a great deal above the
sad conditions of modern society, where so few eman-
cipate themselves and live, where so many fester and
perish.
One question more remains, but it is easily answered.
It is the eternal query, whether the literary career is
one to be selected, or recommended to the young. It
has had many answers, mostly in the decided negative.
But it answers itself. If you have anything to say to
the world worth saying, you must utter it, whether you
will or no. It is not a question of wisdom or prudence.
You cannot suppress the Divine oracle, neither can you
plead with the prophet: "Who am I? I am but a
child." Neither is it a question of reward or the re-
verse. You go forward, and utter what is in you ; and
it remains with the Most High to determine whether
you are to be a stammering child or a prophet unto
your people.
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