N'o
^,
"And other sheep I have that arc not of this fold ; them also 1 must
briny, and they shall hear my voice: and there xhall bo one fold, and
one shepherd." John x, 1C.
3f
|mptoceJ,
BALTIMOKE:
PUBLISHED BY JOHN MURPHY & Co.
182 BALTIMORE STREET.
PIT TSHURG:... GEORGE QUIOLKY.
Entered according to the Act of Congress, in ihe yi>ar 1845,
by PATRICK S. CASSEBI.Y, in tho Clerk's Office of the Dis-
trict Court for tho Southern District of New York.
PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.
TlAVixa several years ago, observed with much pain the harm
done against ttie truth by the publication of "Father Clement,"
and many .similar productions, I was induced, at the instance of
a much and highly-respected friend, to sketch the following
story, the outlines of which I have filled up from various sources
of information and assistance.
I have freely made use of all the. means of information which
lay in my way, whetlicr published or unpublished; from the
beautiful gardens of many distinguished authors I have culled a
finwer here and there, and endeavored to weave them iiito a
garland offered to the greater honor and glory of God. To^theso
authors I beg to return my grateful thanks once for all, "and I
trusi the'.- will not take it ill if I have not refeired to them, which
I must have done in almost every page. This story, as a novel,
has little to recommend itself to the mere novel reader, who
seeks only the passing excitement of the moment. ])ut this was
not the object of the present work : its only aim has been to pre-
sent an antidote to the baneful production, "Father Clement."
Hence, all tho objections against the Catholic faith are taken
verbatim from that work, and therefore I earnestly beg the ad-
miivrs of "Father Clement," if they have any candor, to read
"Father Osw-sld." If there is much repetition i.i many of the
objections and answers, all I can say is, that it is the fault of
" Father Clement; " but it is nevertheless, a fact, that Protestants
frequently repeat the same objections over and over again
although they have boon a hundred times previously re ''uteri.
The theological part of this work has been submitted to the
censure ol a competent ecclesiastic, to whom I express my re-
spectful and grateful thanks, as well as to all others from whom
I have, known or unknown to themselves, received assistance in
this little undertaking, which has been performed entirely from
motives of love to God and to my neighbor. Gentle reader,
receive it in the spirit with which it lias been written.
January 1, 1813.
PUKFACK TO THE SECOND EDITION.
TIIS first edition having neon exhausted and another urgently
t-'cu pruumj (IIII:E&IUUB BU|||MM*UI nuij revuiitm,
wherever such alterations appeared requisite to the improvement
of the work. From the care and pains bestowed on tee prepara-
tion of this stereotype edition, the Publishers are induced to
hope, it will be found still more worthy of tho patronage of the
American community.
Feast of St. Francis of Paula, 1845.
2054392
FATHER OSWALD, &c.
CHAPTER I.
' Fishing and fiddling were his arts ; at times,
He alteied sermons, or he tried at rhymes." CKADBB
" '"Vni.'HER have you been strolling, my dearest Emma!"
said vilv; rd Setton to his lovely wife, as he met her one dcli-
ciou suviaer evening returning' through the lawn to their nap.
py home.
' " I have been to visit poor William Smith ; I think he will
not be long for this world," answered she, putting her arm with-
in that of her husband.
" Poor fellow ! I am sorry for it he was always an honest
industrious creature. I hope our good friend Dr. Davison ha?
been to see him."
" Indeed, Edward, I don't believe he has," answered Emma
in rather a melancholy tone.
"And why not, pray!" said Edward; "surely, when the
poor man is likely to be called so soon to his awful account, he
requires the succours of religion."
" So he thought, and so I thought ; but so did not think Dr.
Davison."
" Impossible ! But has Smith ever sent for him V
" Yes," answered Emma, " he sent for him about three
months ago."
" And why die 1 he not go to him 1"
" He did go thtii one visit," answered Emma ; " I remem-
ber it quite well , and he told Smith he could do nothing for
him."
" Nothing for him !" interrupted Mr. Sefton ; " I have a mind
to report him to the bis.iop. I: will be well if his gown is not
pulled over his head. ' Noth;n for him !' and so I presume he
thinks some Christian.* u:-> die like dogs, as if they had no
souls a* all."
B FATHER OSWALD.
" I was visiting poor Smith at the time, and heard the follow-
ing conversation : ' Dr. Davison,' said the poor invalid, ' I have
during many years prayed to God to make a 'good death, for I
have Telt '.he disease coining on ; but now you tell me you can
do nothing for me: yet I have read in my Bible that St. James
says, ' When any one is sick amongst you, let him bring in the
priests of the church :'* to which Davison answered, ' It is no
use wasting my time in talking about it, Smith, because the
Archbishop of X quite settled the point some time ago:
but read your Bible, and, as I have known you for some time
to be a good kind of m<in, I will tell my wife to come and read
you Ji chapter now and then.' "
" Tell his wife, indeed ! a pretty idea of his duties as a cler-
gyman. Did not you remonstrate, Emma V
"Yes; but to all I could say, he only answered, that there
was nothin? more he could do; that he was too busy with his
studies, and with the composition of a little work on angling."
" Too busy with his stu'dies! I never knew him put forward
his studies as a barrier to a good dinner party, or a general
battue of the preserves of Lord B . His art of angling, to bo
sure, if practice makes perfect, will be a valuable acquisition to
amateurs, for he is truly an indefatigable whipper of the stream,
and a cunning artist in lly-making. If the devil himself were
a trout, he could scarcely escape being hooked by one of his
murderous flies: after all, fishing is an innocent amusement;
the Apostles, you know, Emma, were fishermen."
" Yes, Edward ; but vou forget that when they were called to
be fishers of men, they left their nets to follow Christ. I can
conceive that fishing and field-sports are very innocent and
healthy amusements when used with moderation, and as a re-
laxation from more serious duties, as you are wont to make
them; but to make them the all-important and sole business of
life, ill becomes a Christian, and still worse a clergyman."
" Your observation is just, and the conduct of our clerical
Nimrod has often given me pain ; but sure!y he sometimes calls
to see poor Smith V
"He has never been near Smith since; and I have often
thought to myself, that I hoped Dr. Davison would not have the
cure when I shall l>e called to my long home/'
" Well, I cannot understand it," said Edward, rising from the
>jneh on which they had been seated; " it would not have been
so in good old Mr. Robson's time. I declare I will write to the
Bishop of D about it."
" It is no use to write to the bishop about it, it an archbishop
* James v. 14
KATIIKR OSWALD 3
has already settled it. I think it is a very sad thing to depend
on the individual opinions of different clergymen on a point ot
so much importance."
"Ah, do not lie sad about it, dearest," said Edwatd ; " you
know we do not depend upon the opinion o!' any clergyman : \ve
can afl rend the Bible, and have a right to interpret it according
to our own unbiassed opinion."
L-'.tnma suppressed a rising sigh, and Se!'ton continued .
" Now I think it clear that poor Smith, in his ignorance, has
mistaken the meaning of the Apostle's words: tor James is evi-
dently speaking of the miraculous gill o!' hsal'ms, which was
given to the Apostles. But miracles, you know, my dear, have
long since ceased."
"So we are laugh.'." snid Emma seriously, "but I never
heard upon what scriptural evidence. Did not Christ say. if we
had faith, ' as a grain of mustard seed, we might move moun-
tains;* and on another occasion, did he not siy, ' He that be-
lievelh in me. the works that I do, lie also shall do, and greater
than these .-.hall he do T't Now, I have never read that these
promises were limited to time, or place, or persons."
" Your reasoning is specious, Etnniu ; but all reasoning is of
no avail against. a positive fact: for when do we now see a
miracle 1"
" I think that is rather a negative fact, which seems to me to
argue rather a deficiency of faith on our part, than a failure of
promise on the part of Christ," answered Mrs. Seilon.
" Pooh, pooh ! Ernma ; put that foolish notion out of your
head. The fact is, miracles have ceased, and no more need be
said about it."
This evasive answer no ways satisfied the mind of Mrs. Se(-
ton ; but she could not, or rather durst not, then pursue the ques-
tion farther; so turning the discourse, she gently observed
" I do not think that poor Smith ex ects a miracle ; but
having read the words of St. James, he has it fixed in his mind,
ihat the priest ought to be called in, to pray over him, and to
anoint him with oil ; for, somehow or other, he fannies it may
do him good, and that ' his sins will be forgiven him.' "
" What gross ignorance !" exclaimed her husband, ' to think
of such a superstitious practice in this enlightened age ! But
al. this comes from the fellow's continually running from one
fanatical meeting-house to another. He had much better have
attended to his own lawful minister, Dr. Davison."
"You just now observed, Edward, that we are not obliged tc
fo''o\v the opinions of any clerg) man. Now, 1 am sure pool
* Matt. xvii. 10 + John xiv. 12
4 FATHER OSWALD.
Smith has read his Bible with assiduitv and great earnestness
to find out he truth, and if he thinks differently from us, we
on^rit not to blame him: besides, his own minister tells him
that he can do him no good."
" In that Davison is wrong ; we have in the common prayer-
"look an express ordinance tor the visitation of the siclc."'
" That ordinance, you know, love, prescribes nothing for :he
anointing with oil.' Now, this it is which troubles poor Smith
the most."
" A foolish and superstitious fancy, Emma, and the fellow
doe> no! understand the Scripture."
" Dr. Davison understands it better, of course, and is, there-
fore, right when he says he C'-n do him no good."
" I did not say that ; he might at least pray over him. and "
" But." interrupted F.rnmn, "does the archbishop understand
the Scripture better on this important point V
" It seems not." answered her husband ; " it is a subject, how-
ever, well worth thought and investigation, and I will silt it to
the bottom depend upon that."
By this time the sun was down, and the last golden ray of
evening hung lingering on the horizon, when they entered the
door of their home. Edward retired to his study, and Emma
went to her nursery, each musing, somewhat thoughtfully, or.
what had passed.
At the opening of this narrative, Mr and Mrs. Sefton had
been married about five years, and were the happy parents o.
three little boys and an infant girl. Mr. Sefton was a strict
Protestant, a man of deep feeling and deep prejudice ; very
affectionate and very firm ; warmly attached to his wife, but
otherwise of a disposition more inclined to severity than mild-
ness; was well educated, well read, and made literature his
principal pursuit. Mrs. Sefton was the only daughter of a
Catholic gentleman, who died when she was a year old ; sh
was carefully educated by a Protestant mother, who survived
her daughter's marriage but a few months. Emma was nn af-
fectionate wife and mother, good, gentle, and amiable to all
around her ; but with a great fund of firmness and disinterested-
ness of character when called upon to act; possessing a culti-
vated mind, much inclined to religion, and exercising hf-rsel'
assiduously in charity to the poor and infirm. Mr. and Mrs.
Sefton were tenderly attached to each other, and happy in their
own domestic circle, endeavouring to diffuse amongst "their nu-
merous tenantry, peace and content; and while alleviating the
sufferings and relieving the wants of the unfortunate, they often
felt peace and consolation in the remembrance of those emphatic
words of Scripture, "Charity covereth a multitude of Sins."
FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER II.
Another tnd charge sick persons to attend.
And comfort those in point of death which lay :
For them most needed comfort in the end,
When sin. and holl, and death, does mo-t dismay
The feeble soul, departing hence away." SPENCER
THE individual William Smith, mentioned in the first chnpcei,
is one of Mr. Seiton's tenants, the father of a small lamiiy,
.\ as it has been hinted, dying of consumption. During the
process of this insidious disease, the poor man had abundant
time o reflect on the importance of an hereafter, and he oi'ten
frit it, \is mind a little doubt, or trembling half-formed fear,
whethf he was in the "strait way that leads to lite," and
amongst he few. who ' find it." He felt the yearnings of his
soul towa Is its Creator. The desire of spending his eternity
with Him ind the fears that he might be rejected be. ore the
awful judgment of God for not being in the right path o. sal
vation, oltei, threw him into the painful agonies of a doubtful
and distracte* spirit. He was a well-meaning man. much in-
clined lo relig> -a, and whilst in health had oiten gone to pL.ces
of different wo, ^hip, of which there are sa many in England,
and where of co Tse he had heard many and most contradictory
doctrines; and n< -v, on his death-bed, all these things came *o
his mind, couplea vith the importance of the ' one-thi.'ig ne-
cessary." He trie* to find relief in his Bible, but when he met
with texts like thes^: "There is one faith, one baptism, one
God ;"* " There shai be one fold, and one shepherd ;"t " Witli-
out faith it is impossl, le to please God,": his perplexity and
anxiety of mind increased. One day in extreme despondency,
he pricked into his Bibk as many will do when their minds are
ill at ease, and his eye le- 1 on the following text : ' Is any man
sick amongst you ' Lei him bring in the priests of the church,
and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name
of the Lord ; and the prayer of faith shall save the sick man ;
an J the Lord shall raise him up, and if he be in sins, they shall
be forgiven him ;" a ray of light seemed to beam on his soul ;
he called instantly to his wife, and desired her to go for Dr.
Davisnn ; she went, and the result of his visit has been already
detailed. From that time the poor man's troubles of mind
'laily increased, and he in vain tried to account to himsell foi
* Rp!i. iv. :,. t John . 16.
1 lieu. ii. 6. y Jiiinc* v. 14, 15
6 FATHER OSWALD.
tht reasons of that text being written fit all, when his cwn cler
gyman to'd him he could do nothing for him.
God is ever good to those who seek him with an upright
heart. One evening, while his poor wife was endeavouring
with all the anxiety of a woman's love, to sooth his mental as
well as his bodily anguish, she said to him, " God knows I have
no time to read the Bible as you have, William, but I have
heard that text, ' Ask, and you shall receive; seek, and you
shall find ; knock, and it shall be opened to you,'* and I ha?e
asked Cor you, that God may give you peace."
" Oh ! Mary," answered he, " and so have I often asked it ;
but He does not give it!"
"Well, Willie, do you know what I have been thinking?
Shall I go and call Mr. Ebenezer, the Methodist preacher'?"
" No, no, Marv, by no means. I have often heard him preach,
but I never found pence to my soul, I always came away with
a he;!rt as heavy and as cold as a stone."
" How so 1 Thou usedst to call him a wonderful man."
" Aye, so I thought lor a time ; but when I found he WJK'
always hammering into us, that God mado some few men to be
saved, and all the rest to be damned, I could bear it no longer.*'
" Why, that was making God a cruel tyrant.''
" So I thought; and then that 'saving assurance,' which he
said all God's elect must have, I could never feel, so my heart
fell within me, and I was wellnigh going into despair."
" Well, then, I will go and ask that man who they say is so
holy, to come and see thee, and talk to thec."
" What man V said he, anxiously raising his head fron? hi?
painful pillow.
" Why, Mr. Oswald, to be sure, the priest at the Catholic
chapel. I have heard him preach, and I have seen him visit
the sick, and comfort them, and who knows but he might make
thee quiet 1"
" But, Mary, he would not come to me, he would say I was
a heretic but yet there can be no harm in seeking to know the
truth. I will do so. Go directly, Mary, that I may sleep in
peace."
She was off in an instant; and shortly returned with Father
Oswald.
Father Oswald was eminent for his great talents, and still
more for his great piety and sanctity ; he was a professed Father
of the Society of Jesus, about fifty, of a fine majestic exterior,
and an open, engaging countenance; with a peculiar mixture
in his deportment and manner of what is calculated to win ana
Luke xi. 9.
I
FATHER OSWALD. i
to twe, of gentleness and compassion, of zeal and of fervour
bir. that which forcibly struck even the mast casual observer,
was the evident superiority and power his spirit maintained
over its earthly tenement, and the great sincerity with which he
seemed to feel and to practice the love of God and of his neigh-
bour, la a lew minutes he was seated by the siclc man's side,
anxiously inquiring if he could be of any use to him. Poor
Smith looked up in his face, and, encouraged by the mild be-
nignity of his visiter, said
1 have sent for you, Sir, because I am very wretched. I
Lope you will pardon the liberty, for I am not a Catholic ; but
my own clergyman says he can do nothing for me, and so my
wife persuaded me to speak to you."
" She did very well ; part of my ministry is to visit the sick,
ind comfort the afflicted. Now, tell me in what way I can
*erve you You seem ill in body."
" Yes, Sir, very ill, but my mind is worse ; I fear I am not
in the right way to go to Heaven. Dr. Davison says he can do
nothing for me, and yet I find this text (pointing with his finger
lo the passage quoted above). Now, what is the use of its
being there if they quite neglect it 1 I wish to serve God in
the right way, but in the Bible I cannot see quite clearly which
it is, and I am very miserable about it." There he paused for
want of breath, and Father Oswald answered:
"My son, be of good heart, and you will soon be quite happy ,
it is not from the Scripture alone, that you or any individua\
can find out which is the right way. Tell me, my good man,
do you know the Apostles' Creed 1"
" I did learn it in my boyhood ; but I have not thought mucfl
about it since I began to read the Bible."
" Do you believe all the things contained in that creed V
" I did believe them when I was a lad, and I think I have
always believed them, and do now believe them."
" Why do you believe them V
" I believe them because I was taught to believe them, and I
have never seen any reason to doubt of them."
" Who made the Apostles' Creed V
" I cannot exactly tell, but I guess the Apostles must have
made it. But I do not remember ever to have read it in the
Bible/'
" Certainly not ; but tell me, why do you believe the Bible 1"
" I have always believed the Bible because I have Seen tnugU
that it is the Word of God."
" Exactly so : now, my good friend, you see that the Apos-
tles' Creed and the Bible hare the same authority; for you
B FATHER OSWALD.
believe both on the same motive because yon nave betn so
tnusiit tc believe, and that is as it should be"; for you remem-
ber' the Bible says, that Christ sent his Apostles ' lo leach, al!
nations.' "*
" I see, I see," said Smith, after some reflection ; ' it must be
so. But there are so many teachers, teaching 1 such different
doclrines, that I do not know whom to believe. And Christ
tells us to ' beware of false prophets ;'t and St. Peter, I think it
is, says, 'There shall be amongst you lying teachers. '4 How,
then, is a poor man to know the true teachers 1"
"Nothing more easy, as I trust I shall be able to show von ;
for as Christ calls all to the truth, the way to find it must be so
plain and easy, ityit the poor and ignorant, if they will not
blindly shut their eys, rannot miss it; just as the prophet Isaiah
foretold of the Church 3r Christ, ' And a path and a way shall
be there, and it shalWre called the holy way: the .unclean shall
not pass over it; and this shall be unto you a straight way, so
that fools shall not err therein. ' But let us take one thing at a
time, and go on with the Apostles' Creed. From whom did you
learn the creed V
" I learnt it from my mother, poor soul."
" And from whom did she learn ill"
" Why, I reckon from her father or mother, or from the par-
son."
" Exactly so ; and thus we go back from son to father, for
three hundred years, when we come to the first Protestants.
Now, I ask you, from whom did the first Protestants get it V
" Eh ! I see what you would be at," said the sick man, with
a ghastly, yet artless smile upon his lips. " Why, they must
have got it from the Catholics."
"So they did, just as they got the Bible; nnd the Catholics
received the Apostles' Creed and the Bible equally from the
Apostles, and have handed them down from father to son, to the
present day; while the pastors of the Church took care that
nothing should be changed in the one or the other, and this hand-
ing down. Catholics call Tradition ; without which, you see, you
could not be sure of your Bible."
" 1 see, I see," said Smith, musing as if a new light had bro-
ken in upon his mind. After a considerable pause, the sick
man, casting a wistful look towards the father, said
' Pray, Sir, go on, if it be not too troublesome."
" With the greatest pleasure, my good friend. Do you re-
Matt, xxviii. 19. t Matt. vii. 1i
1 2 Petor ii. J $ Is. jc.vcv 8.
1'ATIIKR OSWALIJ. 9
inember one article of the Apostles' Creed, whore it is said, ' 1
believe the Holy Catholic Church 1" "
" I remember it verv well, and I have often wondered why
we Protestants were taught to believe the Holy Catholic Church,
while they tell us that the old Catholic Church was corrupted
by all sorts of abominations."
"lAvill tell you," said Father Oswald : ''the creed was too
well known by all the people, and they could not change it.
Now, if the creed be as true as the Bible, there has always been
a Huly Catholic Church ; how, then, could a Holy Church be
L'led with all sorts of abominations V
" That could not be, it stands to reason," said Smith.
" And if we are to believe that Church," continued F:ith
Oswald," " it could not lend us into error, otherwise we should
be obliged to believe a lie."
" True, I see it now clearer than ever, and I long very much
to know something more about the Catholic Church, or, as the
creed calls it, the Hull/ Catholic Church, for I begin to see it
must be the right Church."
" I will satisfy your pious curiosity immediately. Christ be-
ing God, is truth itself, his words can therefore never fail. He
founded the tine and only Church, and commissioned St. Peter
and the Apostles to preach and teach his gospel to all nations,
promising to be wiih them ' all days,' and promising to send on
them the Holy Ghost, to teach them all things, and to lead the/n
into all truth; now, with the successors of St. Peter and the
Apostles, must remain the true faith, and it is to them we must
apply to find it."
" And where are we to turn to find them 1" sakl Smith,
anxiously.
" To the ministers of the Holy Catholic Church, mentioned
in the creed, and which existed fifteen hundred years before Pro-
testants were heard of: this Church teaches the same truths the
Apostles taught ; it is founded on a rock, and Jesus has declared,
'The gates of hell shall never prevail against it;' ;md :t is by
its decisions we are to know what is true faith, and not by our
own explanations of the Bible ; that is, as we receive the Bible
from the Church, we must receive the true sen^e of the Bible
from the same Church, for if we givea wrongsense to the Bible,
it is no longer the Word of God, hut the word of man."
"Aye," said Smith, ' thnt stands to reason; and now I see
why so many Protestant ministers, all pretending to the Bible,
preach such different doctrines, that a poor man knows not
which is right and which isAvrong. It must be that they preach
thcii own conceits, and not the Word of God."
1
.10 FATHER OSWALD.
" So it is, unfortunately," replied the father; "but from this
you may learn a useful lesson ; that it is more necessary to have
an unerring authority to hand down to us the true sense of the
Bible, than to hand down to us the Bible itself."
"That certainly seems very plain," said Smith, thoughtfully;
'' for there can be but one truth, and the true Word of God can-
not say yea and nay, black and white, of the same thing; and
yet Protestants and Methodists, and so many others with the
: Bible in their hand, all think quite differently one from another."
"Exactly so; but Catholics all think alike; with them theie
'is but one faith through all the nations under the sun, because
they do not follow their own wild interpretations of the Scrip-
ture, but that sense which has been always held by the Holy
Catholic Church."
" It stands to reason," said Smith, "that if we cannot find the
irue sense of the Bible, it would be better to have no Bible at
all." Then, looking earnestly in the father's face, he continued,
" Do you then think, Sir, that you can be of use to me on my
death-bed, and teach me the sure way of going to Heaven 1"
" I am certain of it, my son ; as certain as I am of my own
existence. I will come and visit you, and explain to you the
Catholic doctrines ; and I think when you shall have heard a
little more, you shall be much happier than you are now."
" Oh ! Sir, I can never thank you enough, and if I should be
satisfied with what you tell me, you will then, perhaps, do for
me what St. James has ordered."
" I trust that may not be yet necessary ; but should it be so,
I will not fail, please God, to give you all the comforts and
helps that the Catholic Church administers to her departing
children. What St. James describes here is Extreme Unction,
'which is une of the Sacraments of the Church administered to
dying persons ; but now I shall leave you, and return to-morrow
morning. In the meantime be of good courage, and raise your
thoughts to heaven, earnestly begging the divine assistance to
direct you'in the true path, and may God Almighty bless you !'"'
Smith clasped his hands, but could not speak. After the
father's departure, he remained, as it were, in a profound reverie
(or nearly an hour; but a peace and a calm were at his heart
which in his>whole life he had never experienced, and in tha*
estate he fell asleep, sweetly reposing in the arms of Divin*
I Providence.
FATHKR OSWALD.
CHAPTER III.
" S'ill thnu orrest. nor end wilt find
Of erring, i'rorn tne path of truth remote." MILTON
THE next day Smith looked with an ardent wish for the hour
which Father Oswald had appointed to return; the hour came
find passed, and another and another hour succeeded, but no
Father Oswald appeared. The eveningshades began to lengthen,
and a cloud of despondency passed across the rnind of the sick
man , he thought himself abandoned by all. At length Father
Oswald made his appearance.
" Oh ! Sir." exclaimed Smith, " how glad I am to see you, 1
began to think you would not come again, because I am a her-
etic ."
" My son," said the father gently, " I have been unexpectedly
detained by other pressing duties; but do not think I consider
you a heretic. I can distinguish between a poor man who errs
through ignorance while he earnestly seeks the truth, and tne
man to whom the truth has been sufficiently made known, yet
obstinately adheres to his errors, and shuts his eyes against the
noonday sun. This latter only I call a heretic."
'' God knows, Sir, I have honestly sought alter the truth,'' said
Smith, sighing.
"And God will bring you to it." added the father.
" I hope so, indeed!" ejaculated Smith. " Well, Sir. I ha\*o
been considering all this long day on what you told me yester-
day about the Catholic Church: but I do not know exactly the
right meaning of Catholic. I have been thinking "
" Catholic, my good friend, means universal."
" Aye, so I have been taught; then, if it be universal, it must
take in all sorts of Christians, Church of England, Presby-
terians, Independents, Baptists, Methodists, Quakers, Shakers,
Ranters, Jumpers, and five or six score more."
" I think," said Father Oswald, smiling. " you will find it
rather difficult to cram all these into one Church, or to pen them
into one fold. Were you to attempt a union like this, you would
only build up a new Babel of jarring opinions and confused
tongues. But then tell me, how could you be.Lie>:e such a mass
of contradictions 1"
" True, true," said Smith, after a little reflection. " We can
not believe yea and nay of the same thing, that's certain. Now,
Sir, since my notion of a universal church cannot stand, pray
tell me its true meaning."
12 F,U'1IEIS OSWALD.
<: 1 will tell you from your Bible. Let us turn to the commis-
sion whirl) Jesus Christ gave lo his Apostles, to plant and prop-
agate his Church, and we .-.hall soon see in what sense He in-
tended it to be Catholic, or universal. ' All power is given tc
me in heaven and in earth. Going, therefore, teach 3-0 all na-
Imns ; baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the
Son, and of the Holy Ghost ; teaching them to observe nil
tM>i,ifx whatsoever I have commanded you; and, behold, I am
v.-J!h you nil day*, even to the consummation of the world.'*
First, the Church established by Jesus Christ must be Catholic
or universal with respect to place ' Teach all nations.' "
"I see, I see," said Smith, '-and I see, moreover, that no
Protestant sect is spread over all nations."
" Secondly, the Church must be Catholic in iloclriue, ' teach-
ing them to observe all things." "
" I see it, I see it; but to be able to teach all things, it must
knov; r all things; now 1 am sure the Protestant sects either do
not know, or do not teach all tilings which Christ commanded
to 1x3 observed, otherwise they would agree in all things, and
not teach such contradictions."
" Thirdly, the Church must be Catholic with respect lo lime ;
' Behold. I am with you all days, even to the consummation
of the world."
" Let me see," said Smith, " I think the first Protestants be-
gan about three hundred years since. Nay, I remember, the
beginning of some: the Ranters, the New-lights, and the Old-
lights, and Johanna Southcote and Dr. Irving, and half a score
more ; and I have heard my father tell of a dozen more in his
lime. None of these can belong to the Catholic Church estab-
lished by Jesus Christ."
"Your reflections," said the father, "are just and natural, but
take notice of another thing. Christ promises to be with his
Apostles ' all days, even unto the end of time." Now, as the
Apostles all died in course of nature, the promise of Christ ex-
tends unto all their successors, the l~ache,r$ of the Church through
all days: consequently, as long as Christ is with the great body
of the teachers of the Church, they cannot go wrong, nor load
as into error; so that the doctrine of the Church never stands
in need of reform."
" I see it clearly." said Smith ; " so that all that a poor man
has to do is to inquire what the Church teaches, and he is sure
to learn the truth. But, Sir, can you tell me why we are called
Protestants?"
" It is a name of your own choosing. Your forefathers called
* Malt, xxviii. .8, 19. 20.
FATIIbR OSWALD. 13
themselves Protestants because they protested against the doc-
trine of the Holy Catholic Church ; against the doctrine of that
Church which had existed fifteen hundred years in the quiet
possession of the promises of Christ."
"Ah! Sir, that was an ugly beginning; I will never be called
a Protestant again, but I think: I never prn'eMzd."
" Formally you never did, lor that reason 1 never called you
a heretic ; I only considered you as erring through ignorance.
But mind, if you blindly shut your eyes against the light of
truth, which you now begin to see, you may easily become au
obstinate heretic."
' ; I trust in God," said Smith with a deep sigh, " that will
never become my misfortune."
" I am confident it never will,' said Father Oswald, rising
"but it is growing late; to-morrow I hope to see you at an ear-
'ier hour ; so, good night, and may God bless you.''
Father Oswald continued daily to visit William Smith, and to
explain to him simply and distinctly the faith and doctrines of the
Catholic Church. It was not long before Smith, with a full
conviction of the truth of that Church, was received into its
bosom. He made the confession of his sins and his abjuration
with great courage ; and having received the Holy Communion
and Confirmation, had only to regret not having known the
truth, nor having experienced these consolations before. He
sought the true iaith with a simple and upright heart, and to
such God never denies the knowledge of it ; hi.s intellect was
not obscured by worldliuess and vice, nor warped by human
respects; so that when the truth of the Catholic iaith was
clearly apprehended by his understanding,' his will joyfully em-
braced it. Many there are, alas! a countless many, who
know and feel where the one true faith is, and either refuse,
neglect, or delay to embrace it, from human respects, from fear
oi what the world may say, or from the numberless impedi-
ments of \vorldliness, luxury, and vice ; but when eternity suc-
ceeds to Ime, how will they then bitterly regret not having em-
braced tlK, ' one faith of the one God !'
Emma Sefton, in the meantime, continued her visits of charity
to Smith, and in his humble cottage she met and became ac-
quainted with Father Oswald. She often sat awhile, and lis-
tened to his explanations and instructions, and she was much
surprised to perceive the extreme change in Smith after he be-
came a Catholic. The air of tranquillity and peace which
beamed in every word and look, even amidst great suffering,
struck her forcibly in contrast with the restlessness and misery
of mind, which she had continually observed in him but a few
2*
14 FATHKlt <" \YALU
short months before. She sr.id j> her own heart, "Iwonaei
what can be the cause of thisl aiU I wonder, too, that Father
Oswald, and even Smith now, sti'.a so quite certain that the
Cai/iolic fai'k is the only true and iv.il one. I wish I could feei
FO very very certain as they seem to ,*)?, that the Church of Eng-
land is the only true Church but, a.'kr all, it is not of such
great consequence whether one is a FiUv^stant or a Catholic, as
long as one is good ; Harriet always say* so. My father, to be
sure, was a Catholic, but my mother w.w a Protestant, and my
husband is an excellent Protestant, and, tt' course, I ought to be
what he is ; however, if I feel more uivosy, I will ask him
about it, or perhaps Dr. Davison." Tht Harriet to whom in
her soliloquy she alluded, was sister to Mr. Sefton, and lived
with them ; she was an easy -tempered, fat, ivntented lady, abom
forty, who, when religion was the topic, alwa/" said, " It is lit-
tle matter of what religion people are, as lorn', vs> they are Chris-
tians and do no harm." Her idea of Christianity was mosl
comprehensive, not excluding the Jew or tlw Mussulman. 01
even the Papist, provided they lived up to their principles, and
did no harm. She had, moreover, a strong ting", of superstition
in her character, and readily gave credit to ome^i, dreams, and
fortune-tellers. The point which had most struck" Mrs. Selton
in what little she had heard Father Oswald eiyOain of the
Catholic faith, was the doctrine of the real presenvV. of the Sa-
viour in the Eucharist and of Transubstantiation. She, with
the generality of Protestants, had always looked up".'.\ the sacra-
ment as a commemoration, and when she had taken kt, her sim-
ple idea was that she had done a pious action, to p-U her in
mind of the Redeemer. To 1 sure, she had heard A, -.me Pro-
testants, and even some of the clergy, say, that the} lolieved
some sort of a real presence, not easily defined ; but vhe had
never reflected on the foundations of their opinion, \i\d hat'
always turned away her thoughts from it as a most inc. mpre
hensible, nay, repulsive idea. When she heard Father I'.v.tvalt
clearly explain and maintain, that unless "we eat tk- fl.c>;\ ant
drink /A-. 1 Slond of the Son of God, we cannot have life in v. ,"
she lelt extremely uneasy, and began to wonder thnt it had iv.va
struck her in that light before, though she had read the Senpli \ n
so often. She was timid of speaking to her husband aboul u.
because his prejudices against Popery were very violent, aij.
her father having been a Catholic madeherstill more backwar.-'
to open her mind to him. Having several of her father's books,
he wever, she determined to examine them ibr further explana-
tion. Amongst them she found some books of controversy, and
* John vi. 54
FATHER OSWALD. J5
the explanations of the doctrine of Transnbstantiation given
therein were so clear, that her difficulties about the Protestant
opinion were redoubled. She was, at this time, in daily expec-
tation of the arrival of her uncle. General Russell, from the
Peninsula, where he had been absent in the wars many yr.ars.
The General was a Catholic, and a very staunch one; in early
l.'le. he had the misfortune to lose a wile and an only child, to
whom he was fondly attached. To divert his grief, he entered
the army, where he soon became distinguished by his braver}'.
Now he wished to return and end his days on his hereditary
estate, ten miles distant from Sefton Hall. The general was of
a generous and open character, the avowed enemy of all irre-
ligion ; .having all his life openly practised and defended his
own faith, and the rites of his own church, he would as soon
have surrendered to the enemy the outworks of the fortress un-
der his command as he would have yielded the practices of
iirosses. beads, relics, and holy-water, to his Protestant antago
nist. He used to say to the divines of his own church, " Take
you charge of the citadel ; leave the advance posts to my de-
fence; lean easily disperse the rabble scouts of the enemy.'
He had employed much both of his leisure and talents in detect-
ing the absurdities and inconsistencies of Protestantism, which,
from his uncommonly quick perception of the absurd and ridicu-
lous, cai.x;d the foil iesof the Reformation frequently to come un-
der his good-natured, though keen and just sarcasm. From the
time Emma began to feel uneasy on the subject of faith, sne be-
came still more anxious for the arrival of her uncle ; and about
a month from the commencement of her acquaintance wkh
Father Oswald, he arrived, to the no small joy of both parties.
He was much rejoiced at seeing again the niece whom he had
left a laughing sportive child, and who was now almost his only
relative ; and she, because she hoped to find in him a fiiend anil
adviser in many difficulties, being nearly the only relation re-
maining to her since the death of her mother. But we mua>
.eave the general to speak for himself in the next chapter.
16 FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER IV.
" A merrier man,
Within the limits of becoming mirth,
I never spent an hour's talk withal." SHAKSPEARB.
BESIDES the general and Harriet, there dined at Sefton Hall
nettday Dr. Daviaon. It was not unusual with the person,
who was a sleek, rosy, pompous personage, to visit the heiter
classes of his parishioners about the hour of dinner ; soil hap-
pened this day, and as Mr. Sefton hnd long wished to give him
a hint about Smith, he was not sorry for it. During dinner, the
general entertained Mr. and Mrs. Sefton with m;iny interesting
accounts oi'what he had seen and observed in Portug 1 ; r,d Spain,
whilst Dr. Davison as closely interested Harriet will, an nc-
sount of his morning sport, and particularly by describing with
what masterly art he had hooked a fine salmon trout, and fought
with it for an hour, regretting very much he had not sent it to
the Hall for this joyful occasion. Harriet, in a sort of half-
con fidenti.il tone, consulted the doctor on a strange dream which
she had had a few nights before, and which, she greatly feared,
foreboded no good. The doctor tried to turn off the discourse,
but was obliged to listen to the whole details. He became quite
fklgetty, and in his hurry to get rid of the annoyance, overturned
the salt. " Be not alarmed," said lie, in a low tone, observing
Harriet change colour; "you see the salt fell towards me, so to
me the evil betides " This assurance satisfied the good lady,
and Mr. Sefton, challenging him to a glass of wine, commenced
his premeditated attack about Smith.
" It has given me great concern, my dear Dr. Davison," said
he, " that you should have lost one of your parishoners.''
Indeed ! I was not aware of it ; who is gone to the next
world now."
" Not to the next world, not to the next world ; worse than
that gone over to Popery !"
" Oh, my dear Sir," said the doctor, " I understand you r_c^v
you m<^n that man, Smith. Well, well, no great loss ;iO
was never a strict Protestant ; but was always poking his i.osi
into some meeting-house, or chapel, or conventicle."
"Well, Sir," said Edward, with much seriousness, "if you
had visited him, as he so particularly wished, during his illness,
the parish would not have had this scandal; it is an occurrence
infinitely to be regretted."
The doctor turned very red, '"a 1 , l^fore his mouJi v>>Ji suffi-
liently empty to answer, Emrrsi "\\\d soothingly
FATHER OSWALD. 1"
" It was very natural, I think, that the poor man should be-
come a Catholic, considering the great and kind attentions paid
to him by Father Oswa'.d."
"Call no man on earth, in that sense, Father, Ma'am," said
the Doctor gravely; '-these are words of Scripture."
Emma blushed.
"I beg pardon, Doctor, Mr. ; really, Sir, I know not
how to call you," exclaimed the general; " for Christ forbids
me. in the same place to call you Rabbi, that is, doctor or mas-
ter."
" Humph," said the doctor gruffly.
" You lorget, General," interrupted Edward, "that the Lord
hath g ; ven some doctors to his Church, and Paul calls himselt
Ihe doctor of the Gentiles."
" True," answered the general ; ' : and he calls himself Ihe
only Father of the Corinthians in very energetic terms.""
The doctor reddened with anger.
" You profane the Scripture."
" i only follow your example, my good friend," answered tne
general. Now, tell me, Doctor, would you scruple to be called
the Right Reverend Father in God the Lord Bishop of so-and-
so, if such a windfall were to happen 1"
Dr. Davison put on a sanctified face, and was about to answer,
when Edward interrupted him by saying
" Before you answer that puzzling question, Dr. Davison, per-
haps you will explain to me your objection to visiting the sick."
" My dear Mr. Sefton," exclaimed the doctor, li what objec-
tion can I have to visit the sick, especially at their last hour, it
they should wish to take the sacrament ; hut what more can one
do for them 1 besides, they have their Bibles, and Christ orders
them to ' search the Scriptures.' "
" Oh ! oh !" said the general, " but if people are to search the
Scriptures for themselves, of what use are the parsons']"
Harriet laughed.
"ButI understand you well enough," continued he; "you
gentlemen of the clerical gown consider that text as the broad
stone on which your Protestant fortress is built."
' Yes, General Russell" said the doctor, getting quite roused,
" it is the broad stone of Protestantism on which our impregna-
ble Church is built."
" Well, Dr. Davison," said the general quietly, " I belong to
a Church which Christ founded on a very different rock: I
should feel very little scruple in sapping your loundation, ana
a train ol gunpowder under it."
1 Cor. iv. 15.
18 FATHER OSWALD.
"Aye, aye/' exclaimed the doctor, -that's aiways the way
with you Papists ; all your arguments end in blowing up with
gunpowder."
" I imagine, Doctor," interposed Mr. Sefton, " the general was
only speaking metaphorically."
" Metaphorically, to be sure," said the general ; " in the styl;
of an old soldier."
"Nevertheless," continued Mr. Sefton, " I have always con-
sidered that text of Scripture as an unanswerable argument in
support of the Protestant's right to read the Bible, and of course
to lorm his own opinion of what he reads."
"Yes," said the doctor, pompously raising his voice with all
the dignity of sell-sufficiency ; ' the Bible, the Bible alone is
the religion of Protestants ; as long as the Protestant shall hold
the Bible, the palladium of his liberty, so long may he defy the
efforts of hell and popery! That is the charter of his rights,
sealed with the broad seal ot Heaven, and bearing impressed
in indelible characters the high behest of God, ' Search the
Scriptures.' "
" Hold, my good friend," called out the general ; " let not
your enthusiasm carry you beyond the bounds of discretion ;
allow me to put in a word or two. If I understand you rightly,
you maintain that Christ in these words gives an express cnm-
manil. to all men, women, and children, to the learned divine
and to the unwashed artificer, to search the Scriptures, and con-
sequently to judge for himself, to form his own creed, to believe
or to disbelieve whatever he may think conlbrmable or con-
trary to that sacred code, otherwise the search would be to no
purpose V
" Certainly, certainly,' said the Doctor.
" Excepting," interrupted Edward, ' ; that all strict Protestants
must believe the Thirty-nine Articles."
" Now, it appears to me," continued the general, " that the
obvious and latal consequences of such a mode of proceeding
suffice to make a prudent mind doubt, if Christ, in his wisdom,
fver gave such a command."
" But it is written in the Scriptures, Sir, said Emma.' 1
" Yes, my dear niece, it is written there, and having heard
so many Protestants quote it, I have particularly examined this
passage with a learned Catholic divine : now, in the English
version, the verb sm-rck is rendered in the imper, live mood,
which may indeed, but dues not absolutely, imply a command:
in the Greek original, the verb is of such form, th;;t it is the
same in the indicative and in the imperative mood. I have now
a choice before me, and the Latin Vulgate, which often throws
FATHER OSWALD. 19
a Jight upon ihe ambiguous expressions of the Greek, unfortu-
nately in this instance is equally ambiguous with the Greek;
so, both being equally mute, I cannot catch i'rom either the tone
of command which might determine me to receive the text, in
the imperative mojd. I am now left to conjecture : I study the
context, and find that either mood suits wonderfully well. I am
therefore left to a tree choice; but as our choice is usually in-
fluenced by our liking or our prejudices, I prefer to render the
passage in the indicative mood thus: ' Ye search the Scriptures;
lor in them ye think ye have eternal life ; and they are they
wmch rectify of me, and ye will not come unto me, that ye
might have life.' Now, in this form it looks much more like
a severe reproach to the learned Rabbis of the Synagogue, than
a command to Christians; therefore, Sir, before I admit your
command, you must prove to me that my version is wrong; this
I defy you to do, and until you have done it, you must consider
the broad seal of your charter torn away, and the broad stone
of your Protestant fortress blown up to the devil."
" Oh! dear uncle," exclaimed Mrs. Sefton, " do not use that
wicked word."
" Emma," said the general, " I know of no respect due to the
devil's name. Really, I do not know whither I can more prop-
erly send the whole system, ' which changes the truth of God
into a lie,' than to its own father."*
Mrs. Sefton blushed, half mortified at the rebuke and hall
conscious that she had been " straining out aguat, and swallow-
ing a camel/'
' But," said Edward, " according to what you say, the Ca-
tholic version also renders the text in the imperative mood."
" The Catholic version gives what answers for both, and
leaves us the free choice of either, because Catholics do not
build their faith on the ambiguous reading of a Greek or Latin
verb."
" You allow at least, that the Protestant version may be right V
said Edward.
" Most freely , out I cannot allow that any man acts wisely,
who grounds his faith cr risks his salvation on the toss up of a
shilling, where there is an equal chance of its turning up heac.
or tail," answered the general.
" What, exclaimed Doctor Davison angrily, " do you deny
that a man who searches the Scriptures with a sincere heart
will find therein eternal life?"
" It is not tor me to judge the sincerity of any man's heait,"
answered the general coolly, " nor to set limits to the mercy of
* Rom j. 25.
20 FATHER OSWALD.
God. I am only now contending that to search the Scripture
in the Protestant meaning is not only no command of God, bui
is attended with very fatal consequences."
" That I defy you or any other Papist to prove," said the.
doctor doggedly. "But, my dear Sir," continued the geneia!,
"daily experience sufficiently proves these fatal consequences;
are not thousands continually searching the Scriptures, 'ever
learning 1 and never attaining to the knowledge of the truth 1"*
But come; for the sake of argument, as the chances are equal,
I will suppose that the Protestant version is right."
" Bravo !" exclaimed Edward.
" Bravo '" reiterated the doctor.
i: But, remember," continued the general, "this supposition
affords but quaggy ground to lay a foundation on. However,
we will read, ' Search the Scriptures :' still, I can see in these
words of Christ nothing like a command laid on any Christian
to read and search the Scriptures, and I defy any Protestant to
prove such a command."
"Why, my dear Sir," said the doctor, "the words are as
clear as the noon-day sun."
" No doubt," said the general, " but to whom were they
addressed 1"
" To all men : who can doubt it 7" answered the doctoi
decidedly.
" I doubt it," said the general, " and you shall hear my reasons
for doubting it. Read with attention the whole context. Jesus
had healed the infirm man at the probatic pond, on the Sabbath
day. For this the Jews persecuted Jesus, 'because he did no'
only break the Sabbath, but also said God was His Father,
making Himself equal to God.' Christ asserts His divinity in
the most unequivocal manner. John had given testimony to
this truth ; but Christ received not, needed not, the testimony
of men, not even that of the Baptist. But he appealed to the
testimony of God manifested by miracles and jirnpkecv ; ' But I
have a greater testimony than that of John. For the works
which the Father hath given me to perfect, the works themselves
which I do, give testimony of me, that the Father hath sent me.'
He then appeals to the Scriptures, to Moses and the Prophets,
who had foretold so many things concerning him : ' Search the
Scriptures, for you think in them to have life everlasting, and
the same are they Ihnt give, testimony of mi'.' Now, in all this
I cr.n see nothing but a simple appeal to the evidences of the
Old Testament, the authority of which the Jews admitted ; or,
if I mnsJ admit a command, it was given to the Jews, to l.h
* 2 Tin. iii 7
FATHER OSWALD. 21
Sciibes and Pharisees who persecuted Jesus, and who neither
believed in the Saviour on the testimony of his miracles, nor
on the testimony of Moses : ' For if you did believe Aloses, you
would perhaps believe me also; lor he wrote of me ;' but in all
this I can see nothing applicable to Christian;."
The doctor groaned.
"The Saviour," continued the general, " is not addressing
his Apostles as disciples; he lays down no rule of doctrine,
either how they aro to find out the truth themselves, or how
"hey are to teach it to others; to thc-m and to all Christians he
holds a very different language : ' Go and teuc.t all nations ;'
1 He who hears you, hears me ;' ' He who will not hear the
Church, let him be to thee as the hesthen and the public; n.' "
" You have ceitainly taken a new view of the subject," said
Edward thoughtfully; " I should not have suspected you, Sir, of
being so conversant with the Bible."
Tne general bowed ami continued : " You should also reflect
that Christ only addressed the learned amongst the Jews, ibr
the bulk of the people, Like the greatest portion of Christians
for many centuries, did not know how to read, and therefore
could not search the Scriptures Certainly, there were no Sun-
iay-sehools in those dark ages," added he with a smile.
" What a pity," said Mrs. Sefton, h.ilf earnestly, half archly ,
" but I fear there are no records oi such things in those early
times. 1 '
" No," answered her uncle, " you are right, my dear; ana
did not the Jews when they heard Jesus teaching, whom they
thought to be the son of an humble mechanic, express their
wonder, ' saying, How doth this man know letters, having never
earned T'* It is thereibre evident that Jesus Christ did not
m::ke this appeal to the great mass of the illiterate Jews ;
neither can I conceive any reason why Protestants continually
din into the ears of the illiterate crowd, ' Search the Scriptures,'
unless it be to dupe and deceive them. Had Jesus Christ
intended that the world shouid learn his doctrine from a o.^^,
he would have written the book himself in a plain, easy style,
intelligible to the meanest capacity. Instead of sending his
Apostles to preack and teach,, he would have givnn them the
commission to teach the ignorant their ABC, arid when they
had learned to read, to put his divine book into their hands, and
leave them to themselves. Then we should have read in the
Acts of the Apostles, and in their Epistles, splendid examples
of their zeal and exertions in establishing everywhere Sunday-
schools, and day-schools, and Bible societies \" Unfortunately,
* John vii. 13.
2 FATHER OSWALD.
we find no traces of all this in our present Bible. Na/, more,
Jesus Christ should have instructed his disciples in tlw useful
art of pa par-making, and, above all, he should have revealed to
them the powerful engine of the printing-press ; beca.fise the
demand for Bibles would have been so great, that without these
twi grand discoveries, it would have been impossible to furnish
a suiiicient supply. He should have lelt an authentic copy ol
his divine work in every language that then existed, or ever
wauld exist to the end of time, and not left it to the ignorance
jr nrJice of translators to impose upon the credulous their own
productions for his Word."
Here Harriet could no longer refrain from laughing outright;
and the doctor exclaimed in an angry tone
" Stop, Sir, I think you are carrying the joke too far ; the
subject is too serious for a jest, and I cannot condescend to treat
it in so light a manner. It is not for us to determine what Jesus
Christ should, or should not have done; we ought to be content
with what he has done."
" I perfectly agree with you," answered the general ; " we
ought to be content with, what h" has dime ; that is precisely the
point in question; namely, whether Jesus Christ has commanded
us to search the Scriptures or to hear the Church; yet I can
see no joke in demonstrating the absurd consequences which
necessarily flow from the Protestant principle; but why do
you not answer the reasons I have brought against it from
Scripture 1"
" Why, really, Sir," said Edward, " there is something plau-
sible in them, which, I confess at this moment, I am not pre-
pared to answer." Then glancing at Dr. Davison, he added
" but I dare say the learned divines of our Church could very
easily expose their sophistry."
" I am so persuaded," said the doctor, in a very confident
tone, " of the wisdom and holiness of our principle, that I shall
ever think it my duty to bring to the home of every poor man
the pure Word of God ; he can derive nothing but holiness and
salvation from that source of eternal truth."
" My dear doctor," said the general, smiling, " I am always
delighted when I catch a glimpse of Protestantism in reading
the Bible; and here \ve are undoubtedly fallen upon real Bibli-
cals. The Scribes and Pharisees thought they could find life
everlasting in the holy Scriptures. Such, undoubtedly, was
jheir opinion, as it is the opinion of modern Protestants. But
ivhat certainty had they of the truth of that opinion ? It strikes
me that Christ reproves their overweening confidence in that
opinion, when he says, ' Yc think in them to have everlasting
KATHER OSWALD. 3
<IM;' if Christ meant to approve of their system, he would
uaturahy have said, Ye know, or ye ought to know."
" General, yoar observations are rather caustic," said Mr.
Sefton, evidently nettled, " and we cannot receive it as a com-
pliment to be compared with the Scribes and Pharisees."
" I mean no offence, I assure you ; but I cannot help drawing
comparisons where I sae a striking likeness."
" It is wonderful," observed Mrs. Selton, with a half sap-
pressed sigh, "that U.e learned Jewish doctors, who were so
attached to the holy Scriptures, and so studious of their contents
were yet unable to understand the testimonies which they bore
to Christ; how, then, shall we poor creatures ever comprehend
them 1"
' Madam," said the doctor, glad of the occasion to change the
line of argument, "the Jewish doctors could not understand,
because they would not. They had formed to themselves a
false notion of the expected Messiah, and therefore wrested the
plainest texts of Scripture to their own preconceived notions."
" Alas !" said Mrs. Sei'ton, " is not this evidently the case
with many Protestant sects 7"
" Undoubtedly it is," replied Dr. Davison, 1: because they pay
no attention to the luminous expositions* of the Bible, which
have been given by the learned divines of our Church."
" It is a frightful spectacle," said Mr. Sefton with an air and
lone of deep regret, ' to behold so many swarms of new sects,
rising up daily around us. In every village new meeting-
houses are erected and every illiterate fanatic quits the loom or
the anvil, and, with all self-sufficiency, mounts the pulpit to ex-
plain to the stupid crowd the deep mysteries of revelation."
" Ave," said the doctor, "that is the greatest plague that in-
fests the land; it bodes no good to the Establishment. Why
cannot the idiots be contented to read the Bible to themselves V
' So, gentlemen," exclaimed the general, highly delighted at
these acknowledge.! evils of indiscriminate Bible reading. " you
abandon the Scripture when it testifies clearly asrainst you. ;;nd
seek for refuge in the lenrning o! your divines! This is the
usual inconsistency o:' Protestantism. But since you are deter-
mined to read the Bible, and to put it into the hands of every
unlc/i'-ifd and unsta'il" mechanic, you must abide by the neces-
sary coi, sequences. Allow me to address you in scriptural
language: 'Search the scriptures, for i/u ifiink in them to
have li.'e everlasting, and the same are they that give tes'.invmy
against you.' Rend what St. Peter says of St. Paul's epistles,
in which are certain things /iar<l to A? understoo-t, which tho
* Are " expositions" " luminous e.'jxjsitioiis" then iiccc*saiy . ; lEiiit.J
24 FATHER OSWALD.
unlearned and unstable wrest, as they do also l.lic other scriptures,
to their own destruction.* ' There is one that accuseth you,
Pe'er, in whom you trust ; for if you did believe Peter, "you
would perhaps believe me also/ After this, go and spread your
Bibles through the land; put a copy into every work-shop find
every hovel, and tell the gulled and gaping multitude that they
will find therein eternal life; from ray soul I pity them ; I pity
such folly and blindness, convinced as I am that ninety-nine in
every hundred are either unlearned or nnslabk, and therefore
must meet with their own destruction."
" Bah ! bah !" replied the doctor contemptuously ; " that is all
mighty fine ! but it only proves the cruel and persecuting spirit
of popery, that would keep the people in ignorance and dark-
ness by depriving them of God's Word ; but the day has already
dawned, when, by the glorious efforts of the school-master and
the Bible Society, the world shall open its eye.* to the blaze of
truth, and disdain the brutalizing yoke 01' papal authority, im-
posture, and priestcraft."
" Sir, I have done,'' said the general, with firmness and dig-
nity. " I doubt not your mind is too much cultivated not to
know that the rant of fanaticism carries no conviction ; it may
mislead the vulgar, who never reflect; but, upon a thinking
mind, it can produce no effect; yet," added lie, in a melancholy
lone, " I ought to have known that neither the clearest evidence
of Scripture, nor the dictates of common sense, nor the fatal
experience of every day, were ever able to pluck out a deep-
rooted prejudice. I shall only add this one word of St Paul's,
' And when they agreed not. among t/temsdres,- they departed;'
Paul speaking these words ' Well did the Holy Ghost speak
to our fathers by Isaias, the Prophet, saying, Go to this people,
and say to them, With the ear you shall hear, and shall not un-
derstand; and seeing, you shall see, and shall not perceive
For me heart of this people is grown gross and with their ears
have they heard heavily, and their eyes they have shut, lest,
perhaps, they should see with their eyes, and hear with their
ears, and understand with their heart, and should be converted,
and 1 should heal them.' "t
There was a dead silence, and Mrs. Sefton proposed adjourn-
ing to the lawn to take coffee. As Dr. Davison led her on, he
muttered, in a half whisper to her, " If I were you, Mrs. Sefton,
I should forbid controversy at my table, for it sadly spoils the
taste of the vi.inds, and the flavour of the wines."
Emma smiled rather significantly ; for the doctor seemed to
nave made but a sorry figure. The arguments she had just
* 2 Peter iii 16. t Acts, sxviii. 25. 20, 27
FATHER OSWALD. 25
heard her uncle use, appeared to he- conclusive against search-
ing Scripture for ourselves, and interpreting it according to our
individual judgment. The question, then, naturally suggested
irselt to her mind Where are we to find an unerring interpre-
ter of the divine word 1 and who is appointed to explain to us,
with authority from God, what is the true faith which he re-
q lires of us 7 Belore she retired to rest that nigh:, she resolved
ti lake means of clearing up her doubts on this point.
CHAPTER V.
" Why should this worthless tesument ei. J ue,
If it's undying quests l>e lost ibr ever ?
O In us keep the soul embalmed and pure,
In living virtue, that wlx.'i) lx>!h must sever,
Although corruption may our flame consume,
The iinino'rtal spirit in the skies may bloom "
NEW MONTHLY MAO
A PKW weeks after this, as Mrs. Sefton and Harriet were
strolling along the village one -beautiful evening, they perceived
the door of Smith's cottage closed, and lights gleaming from
the window. This circumstance surprised them, as the sun
was still high above the horizon, and the evening very bright.
Emma proposed paying the sick man a visit, to which Harriet
readily consented. When they entered, they were struck with
awe at perceiving that poor Smith was evidently drawing to his
last moment, and beholding Father Oswald arrayed in his sa-
cerdotal habits holding the Blessed Sacrament in his hand, in
the act of administering it to the dying man as his viaticum.
Near the bed-side was a small table covered with a clean nap-
kin, with two wax-candles burning on either side of a crucifix,
Leibre which was placed the pyx in which the Blessed Sacra-
ment had been brought ; there were also the sacred vessels
containing the holy oils for Extreme Unction. Around trie bert
of the dying man were kneeling a lew pious Catholics, with
lighted tapers in their hands. Emma felt irresistibly impelled
to kneel also, which she did, and shortly after Harriet followed
her example, as if ashamed of being seen standing a.one.
A.fter Smith had received the viaticum, the father knelt by the
little table in silent prayer Ibr a few minutes; nor was this
olemn pause interrupted by the slightest noise from any of the
3*
26 FATHEH OSWALD.
assistants ; the awful stillness which was there, seemed as the
forerunner of that still more awinl one wlm-h was soon to iol-
low Father Oswald then rose, and, approaching the sit.-k man,
administered to liim the Sacrament of Extreme Unction ; he
anointed with the holy oil his eyes, ears, lips, hands and i'eet.
repeating, as he made each application, the beautiful and appro-
priate iorrn oi prayers used by the Church on these affecting occa-
sions. ' May our Lord by this holy anointing', and his own inost
tender mercy, pardon thee whatever thou hast sinned by seeing;
and so oi' the other senses. During the whole imposing rile,
Smith was in perfect possession of his senses; answering and
attending to the prayers with the deepest sentiments of devotion ;
his heart seemed overflowing with com ort and hope, while his
countenance wore an expression of the most perfect calm and
resignation. When the holy rite was finished, Smith called his
wife to the bed-side, took her hand in both his, and, in a faulter-
ing voice, said, " Promise me or.e thing, Mary, before we part.
Wilt thou get thyself instructed in the holy Catholic religion V :
" Oh ! Willie," replied she, in accents broken by her sobs, " ]
nave heard and seen too much in thy long sickness, not to wish
to make as good an end I promise thee."
' : I believe thee: thou wast always faithful to thy word and
thou wilt take our poor children to learn their catechism lium
Father Oswald V
" I will." She could say no more, for her heart was full.
" Then I die content. Thanks be to God '" said the poor suf-
ferer.
After a few minutes, during which Smith seemed to be ab-
sorbed in prayer, he stretched out his hands towards Mrs. Set-
ton, which she perceiving, approached the dying man, and asked
him what she could do lor him.
" Thank you, Madam, thank you ; you have been very good
to me, God reward you you are not angry at rny change
you have told me so. Do not forget my poor orphans."
" 1 will take charge of them, William ; think no more ot
that."
" Thank you thank you. God " his voice failed.
" Tell me, William," 'said Mrs. Sefton, .while the big tear
trickled down her cheek, " do you die quite happy 1"
"Happy! oh, yes, yes. Oh! Mad;;m, if you knew." His
strength failed him. and he could utter no "more. For some
lime he continued to move his lips in prayer, but nothing more
was distinguishable from time to time, but the sacred names,
' Jesus Saviour Mary mother."
It was evident to all present that a few minutes more would
FATHER OSWALD. 27
.iberate the soul from its sinking tenement. Father Oswald
seated himself to support the head of the expiring Christian,
and from time to time presenting the crucifix to his lips, suggest-
ing brief acts of faith, hope, the love of God, contrition, resig-
nation, and fervent aspirations, "to be dissolved and be with
Christ." The assistants all knelt around the bed, and recited
the Litanies tor the recommendation of the soul, and Fathcj
Oswald continued the touching prayers which follow them, be
ginning " Depart, Christian soul, out of this world, in lh<
name of God the Father Almighty, who created thee ; in tin
name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, who sufferci
for thee ; in the name of the Holy Ghost, who sanctified thee.'
When he came to the words, " May Jesus Christ, the Son o)
the living God, place thee in the ever verdant lawns of his par-
adise, and may He, the true Shepherd, acknowledge thee for
one of his flock," a very slight sigh was heard, and Emma,
whose eyes were fixed on the dying man, saw that he had ex-
pired. At that moment the last and richest gleam of the setting
sun shone into the poor cottage, and reposed on the face of the
departed Christian, rendering, if possible, with its vivid ray,
more vivid still the ardent expression of faith, and hope, and
love, which had not yet died off from the countenance of the
cold and still remains of the dead. There was a mournful si-
lence of some minutes, broken only by the sobs of his poo)
wife and children. Father Oswald then recited in a low and
tremulous voice the " De pro'undis" and some other short pray-
ers for the repose of the soul just gone to eternity ; he then rose,
and addressed a few words appropriate to the occasion to those
around him : " You have," said he, " just witnessed the entrance
if a poor but good man into the house of eternity How calm,
how peaceful, how lull of bright hope was his departure hence
I cannot doubt of the merciful reception which he has met with
in the presence of his God. This blessed confidence he received
from the holy faith, which he so lately found and embraced
You have all long known our deceased brother to have been r.n
upright and honest man, blameless in his conduct, and of greai
gcod sense. He had a long time indeed wandered from sect to
sect, from error to error, but this was the effect of his r.rdoui
ana sincerity in the search alter truth. For many years be wa^
: tossed to and fro with every wind o t doctrine,' until God, hear
ing his prayer and seeing the simplicity of his heart, conducted
him to that haven, where alone he could cast securely the anohot
of his faith. There he found peace and repose to his sou).
Well, then, may we bless God, saying, ' Thou hast hid these
things from the wi.se and prudent, and hast r evealed them
28 f'ATHKR OSWAf,U.
little ones.' "* The nying accents of Smith and the few vr?rrls
of the Father sunk deeply <nio the heart of Mrs. Sefum. The
litlle assembly dispersed in mournful silence, leaving Father
Oswald endeavouring to soothe the sorrows of the por" widow
and orphans. Before Emma left the humble root, she asked
him in a whisper to stop for a moment at the Hall on his way
home, to which he willingly assented, and she and Harriot
slowly retired. When thev had proceeded a few steps, Emma
exclaimed with a deep sigh. " What a most affecting, what a
most touching scene ! Oh ! Harriet, I do think I am sure, in-
lee<), I should like to die a Catholic."
"Certainly, I never saw such a scene before, though I have
wen many Protestants die," replied her companion thought-
fu.ly.
" And so have I." returned Emma ; " but it was a very dif-
ferent kind of thing indeed."
"Those I have seen," continued Harriet, "all, however, died
verv quietly, and did not seem to have any I'ear about saving
their souls: how can one account for that, if they were not in
me right way V
" I think I can account for if this way." said Emma, "with-
out, discussing which is the right way, and which is the wrong.
There are a great many people of all persuasions who arc vi-
cious, and whose hearts are quite blinded and indifferent to all
eligion, nncl do not believe in a future state of existence ; or n
:hey do believe that the soul survives the dissolution of the body,
persuade themselves that it can only be in a state of happiness;
because they imagine that all shall be saved. Now, it strikes
me, such persons would be very likely to die without much re-
morse or tear."
" Well, I do not understand it of a wicked person without re-
ligion," said Harriet, '' but of good moral Protestants I do, be-
cause I don't see what they have to fear: has not Christ died
lor the sins of all 7"
" No doubt," said Mrs. Sefton, "but may not Christ require
something on our parti"
" f do not see why he should. Is not his redemption all-suf
ficicntl Are not our efforts worse than nothing 1 When a
man's conscience is at e?se, what has he to fear 1 Why, I ro-
meinber my brother told me some years since, that he was at
.be death of Lord ***, who vou may have heard had a criminal
Connection with another man's wife: well, when he came to be
-.'ctuaMy dying, this creature was sitting by his bed-side, and a
r\v minutes before he expired, he turned to Edward, and said,
* Matt. xi. 2o
FATHKH OSWALD. 2?
He Inanked God he did not recollect ever having offended his
Maker in his life."
"How very horrid!" said Emma, shuddering; "bin you
know there are some men v.'ho have ' a seared conscience," and
' whom God has given up to a reprobate sense." Now, it' he had
been a Catholic, he would have known that he had been living
in the constant violation of one or more of God's command-
ments ; that he was then in the state of mortal sin, that is, in
;he state of damnation, and this reflection alone would fill him
with fear and trembling."
' I think, with horror and despair," said Harriet.
" Not so,'' replied Mrs. Sefton; -; for as Father Oswald ex-
plained, there is no time in this life in which a man ought to
despair ; and he cited the words of St. Peter, ' Repent, therefore,
and be converted, that your sins may be blotted out.'* So thai
lie must repent of his sins, and confess them too, to the priesl
who has authority to absolve him. Therefore, I cannot bill
think that the Catholic religion gives one much more help and
consolation than any other."
" It ma}' be so," said Harriet, "for I am not clever at these
matters, but I think the main point is to be good, whatever one
is. I am sure that good old soul, Mrs. Crump, who was as
constant a church-goer as ever I saw, and as good a creature
too, died like a lamb; and why should she not 1 I daresay
she went straight to Heaven: so, Emma, if you will take my
advice, you will not bother your head any more with such trou-
blesome thoughts; for, depend upon it, it is little matter whal
we believe, if we are only good and sincere Christians."
" Indeed, Harriet, I cannot agree with you, and I think yon
F.re much too easy on those points; nor do I see how any one
can be a sond and sincere Christian who does not hold the true
and entire faith revealed by Christ. You know, dear Harrier,
tint 'faith is mi?, and that without this one faith it is impossible
to please God.' We must therefore hold the true faith in order
to be gnail Christians ; and we must use all the means in our
power to find out the true faith, in order to be sincere Chris-
tians."
" I do not see," sair 1 Harriet, why the goodness or sincerity til
any Christian shouW be doubted while he follows what appears
to him to be right."
" Pardon me." replied Emma, earnestly ; " there can be no
good in believing falsehood fora revealed truth of God, nor much
sincerity in blindly following a preconceived opinion withoui
examining whether it be true or false. Why, according to you*
SO FATHER OSWAI,u.
notion, Quarters without baptism have just as rnueh right and
chance of going to Heaven as good 'Protestants, who believe in
the necessity of baptism, because to them it appears so plainly
ordered in the Bible."
"Well, who knows but they do go to Heaven 7 they aie a
good, moral set of folks, though they are Quakers."
" I cannot think faith is a matter of indifference," saiu Em-
ma decidedly, " because truth is one on all subjects; and rea-
son itself tells us that God, who is truth itself, cannot reve;:l to
(he Quakers one thing and to the Protestants another thing on
the same subject, and yet there are some Protestants o, my < c-
(juaintance who do not believe in the nececsitv of b;;ptism, tnd
that is because they happen to have different views of the s. me
passage in Scripture. Now this is very pn/.zling, ;.nd it has
frequently struck me that God must have appointed some infal-
lible umpire, who could not err in interpreting his Word ; I ;,m
very uneasy about it."
" If you listen to the Romish Catholics," said Harriet laugh-
itig, " they will tell you that their pope, or their Church, 01
themselves altogether are infallible; but for God's sake Emma,
don't go and make yourself a papist; not that I should think
the worse of you for it," added she affectionately, " but 1 know
who would, and so do you."
Emma sighed : bv that time they had reached the H; 11 door
and she hastened' to her husband, who, with General Russell
viras in the library, to tell him all that had happened, and to asli
Vim how they could best assist the widow and orphans
Shortly alter, Father Oswald arrived, as he had agreed, ;,nd
:.ie party consigned to him their charitable donations for the sur-
viving sufferers. Since general Russell's return, the father had
feen frequently seen at the Hall at least, frequently for him,
*'hose numerous duties and labours left him short moments of
leisure. The general and he had been schoolfellows for their
whole college-career, and the heart-lelt friendship formed in
vouth had continued with increased strength and constancy dur-
ing manhood. At first, Mr. Sefton did not like to see F ti/er
Oswald calling on the general; for, besides his deep roofed
prejudices against Catholics as a body, these prejudices were
doubly strong against their clergy, and especially ag: ins! Je-
suits; but, by degrees, the extreme urbanity and winning gen-
tleness of Father Oswald's manners made him frequently Ibrgel
he was talking to one, until the father, bv some pro. on rid o' j-er-
vation, or a little display of the universal erudition with which
his vast mind was stored, again roused his latent prejudices
and out him on his guard against one of an order which ln> }>;>?
FATHER OSWALD. 31
.ver considered as dark, designing, and mysterious, w.iose mem-
bers would not hesitate to commit any crime tor the service ot
llieir cause. Still there was something in Father Oswald's
manners and observations which piqued his curiosity and his
love of literature. Moreover, Edward's love of discussion
raus.tl him to feei a certain pleasure in the company of thi?
member of the Society of Jesus which he could not, however,
he wished it, conceal from himself. Emma had just given him
the account of the administration of Extrsme Unction, at poor
Smith's, and Edward could not resist lue desire of attacking
Father Oswald on this point.
" It seems to me, Sir/' said he, "that you Catholics take a
most erroneous view of what you call the sacrament of Extreme
Tj action ; because, as it is mentioned in the New Testament, it
evidently reiers to the gift of healing; whereas, now, none ol
.ho effects follow which are ascribed by the Apostle : !6r, docs
he not say that the sick man shall be raised up again? and 1
have just been told that your sick man. after you gave him Ex-
treme Unction, became more sicic, and, instead of being raised
up, is gone down into the grave."
" My dear Mr. Seiton," replied Father Oswald mildly, " ac-
cording lo your explanation of this text, no one would have died
in the time of the Apostles; for, certainly, if by calling in the
1'Jds.rs of the Church, as you translate the word, (not very wise-
Iv. I think.) who would have neglected so easy a means of re-
covery from corporal inh'rmiiy 1 But this mystery, as you justly
observe, is considered by the Catholic Church as amongst hef
sacraments.'"
' I should like ranch to know, however, how you can prr.7>
it so," interrupted Edward.
" We have in it," said Father Oswald, " an out-icard sign r
svmbol, ' anointing him,' namely, the sick person, ' with oil, b
the name of the Lord,' and a promise of inward grace, ' ah
the prayer of faith shall save the sick man, and the Lord sha"
raise him up; and if he be in sins, thev shall be forgiven him
Tvo effects oi this outward sign are distinctly specified: fir?
sani'tifying grace with the remission of sins, which is the pric
:ipal effect of the sacrament ; and secondly, the raising up c
liealing of the sick man, when it shall be for his spiritual a**-
vantage; but this secondary effect does not always tak* rlacr
neither did it in the time of the Apostles, as I have jtut ot
served. Catholic priests, however, who administer the sacia
ment, knoy well that this secondary effect often occurs e/er
now. The 'prayer of faith' is the form of the sacrair>nt use*
b>' the priest when he ' anoints the sick man ;' it is a depreca
3'2 FATHER OSWALD.
lory form, and derives its efficacy from the faith of the Church
in the Word and promise of Christ."
" Yes, yes," said Sefton sarcastically, "faith of the Church is
.the means by which you papists get out of many difficulties, be
they ever -so contrary to common sense."
"I cannot see any thing contrary to common sense in this
explanation of the text in question," replied Father Oswald ;
" much less do I see any thing contrary to common sense in us
weak mortals submitting our understandings and our often-erring
reason to the God of all truth, who cannot have revealed to us
.ihat which is false."
' No, no," exclaimed Edward eagerly ; " I grant you there
is nothing contrary to common sense in submitting our reason
h> the G^d of truth ; it is not that I object, to by any means, but
ln r blindly giving up the use o! our understanding to fellow-
sinners like ourselves: for I believe it is the Catholic doctrine,
-that when once their Church has decided a thing to be an arti-
cle of faith, that you are all obliged, under pain of damnation,
lo believe it."
"Yes, we are," answered the father calmly; "but in thus
submitting our understanding to the Church, we do not suhmu
it to a human, but to a divine authority; and in so doing, il
is mv poor opinion that we show a great deal of common sense."
' How sol" said Emma hesitatingly.
" Because, my dear Madam, as we believe the Gospel ot
Christ to be a divine book, so we believe that none but a divine
authority can expound the same,' 1 said Father Oswald; "and
in this we are confirmed by St P^ter, who says, that ' no proph-
ecy of the Scripture is made by private interpretation."* Now,
Mr. Sefton, will you tell me candidly if you believe in the divi-
nity of Jesus Christ, or not?"
" Most certainly I do," said Edward; " how can you doubt
111"
" Because many of our countrymen who read the Bible will-
as much assiduity as you do, not only doubt, but deny the divin-
ity of Jesus Christ. Now, if you believe that Jesus Christ is
Gk:c , you will acknowledge that His promises must be infallible,
;:nu must be fulfilled.'''
" Naturally, t must believe so," said Sefton, " for, being God.
His words must always and ever have the same truth as they
iiad the moment Fie uttered them."
"Then," continued Father Oswald emphatically, "you must,
according to common sense, believe the Redeemer when he
vays to St. Peter, ' Upon this rock I will builc! rnv Chm-eh. nrnl
* 2 Peicri. 2<
FATHKR OSWALD. jr
ihs gates of Hell shall not prevail against it.'* IP the Church
could possibly teac.h damnable errors or fail in the true interpre-
tation of Scripture, then the gates of Hell could prevail against
her, contrary to the above promise, and contrary to Christ's ex-
press words, when He says, ' Go ye, and teach all nations, bap-
tizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son. and of
<ne Hcly Ghost, teaching them to observe all things whatsoever
[ have commanded you ; and, behold, I am with jou ait duus^
even tj the consummation of the world.' "t
" According to that," said Mrs. Scfton timidly, " there never
would have been any need of the Reformation. '
" Certainly not, my dear lady ; there never was and never
will be any need of it," answered Father Oswald.
Edward looked chidingly at his wile, and then said, " The
Catholic Church teaches many painful things not contained in
the Bible, and contrary to the plain sense of it."
"Egad!" exclaimed the general sarcastically, "there are
many painful tilings that Protestants cannot find in the Scrip-
ture, such as. 'denying themselves, and taking up their cross
daily;''; 'crucifying their flesh with the vires and concupiscen-
ces ;' mortifying the deeds cf the flesh ;'|| and a few other such
unpleasant things, which do not sound very gratifying to re-
formed ears."
" If the Church is directed by the 'Spirit of truth,' and if
Christ be with his Church ' all /lays' it cannot leach that which
is contrary to Scripture, as we have just proved," said Father
Oswald, rising; "it cannot teach that which is false, either
'.oncerning things contained in the Scriptures or concerning
akigs handed down to us by tradition, however painful they
,iay appear to human nature."
"Do not leave us yet, Sir," said Edward, "for I have not
tnished with you. 1 understand, that alter you sent your sick
man to the grave, you sent him on to purgatory ; now, this is
a doctrine quite contrary to Scripture, and never heard of in
the first ages of Christianity, till the Church became lull of cor-
ruptions."
" Gently, gently, my good friend," said Father Oswald, " the
Church could never become full of corruptions, and never will
become full of corruptions, otherwise Christ's promises are good
for nothing- some other day you will, perhaps, tell me your ob-
jections to the doctrine of purgatory; but now it is late, and
there are some poor people waiting for rne." So saying, he
took his leave, making the most grateful acknowledgments for
* Matt. xv. :8. t Ma't. xxviii. 19, CO. t Luke ix. 23
* Gil. v 24 II Kom. vui. 13.
4
J4 FATHER OSWALD
their benevolent contributions Ibr the poor widow, and breathing
a fervent prayer, that the same Lord who has promised ' a re-
ward for a cup of cold water given in his name,' would pour
down upon them his choicest blessings.
Edward exclaimed, as he closed the door after him, "a thou-
sand pities it is that such a fine soul as that man possesses,
should have been obscured by the errors and bigotry of lh<*
Church of Rome ! : '
CHAPTER VI.
" To comfort rmn, to whisper hope
Whene'er his filth is dim :
For who so c:ireth for tlu- flowors,
Will much more rare for Him." HOWITT
THE next morning, while Mrs. Seilon was working in her
'flower-garden, which was a very wilderness of luxuriant beauty
and rnral enchantment, her mind frequently reverted to the con-
versation of the previous evening. Two of her infant children
were bounding around her in their innocence and joy, sporting,
ilike beautiful butterflies fluttering from flower to flower. The
very spirit of love and beauty, with which God created flowers,
those tender and gratuitous emblems of his pure benevolence to-
wards us, seemed as it were pausing and hovering over that love-
ly spot; but Emma's heart was not at rest ; and the Spirit of the
Almighty was speaking to it in another and a different, language.
She heeded not her children, she heeded not her flowers. Smith's
death-bed, the conversations she had lately heard, but more es-
pecially a sermon of Father Oswald's on the blessed Eucharist,
which she had attended in the Catholic chapel, made deep im-
pressions on her, and had opened her understanding to a wide-
field of thought, and doubt, and hope. God had gifted her with
a great perspicuity of intellect. In this sermon she had heard
Father Oswald clearly explain the Catholic doctrine of the real
presence of our Savioc' in the Eucharist. She had heard him
prove this dogma from the cleared and most copious passages
of Holy Scripture, as well as from the perpetual faith and prac-
tice of the Church from the days of the Apostles down to our
own times; so that she had not a doubt of the divine mystery.
But she was deeply penetrated with the explicit declaration ol
FATHER OSWALD. Jft
the Redeemer, ' That unless we eat the flesh of the Son of God,
and drinlc His blood, we cannot have life in us.'* Her reason
consequently came to the conclusion that this being true, it was
then necessary for her, before she could possess eternal life, tc
belong to a Church which believed in this dogma as Christ had
taught it ; and which could moreover administer to her this rite
so absolutely necessary for her eternal salvation. Her first
thought, then, was to become a Catholic; and this thought was
accompanied by a touch of divine love, so sensible to her heart,
and at the same time so gentle and so strong, that it soothed all
the previous agitation of her soul ; the thought of partaking of
the sacrament of love was kindled up with a beam of hope al-
most approaching to rapture. She mentioned some of her re-
flections to her husband, but his manner was so marked with
displeasure, and his dissent so decided, that all her interior per-
turbation and anxiety returned. While she was externally
employed at her horticultural labours, her mind was intent on
these thoughts. Her good sense told her that bold denial and
cold sarcasm were no answer to the luminous arguments of
Father Oswald ; that the doctrine of the real presence was sup-
ported by numerous texts of Scripture, taken in plain, obvious,
and literal sense, in which every unprejudiced and single-
hearted reader must necessarily understand them, while not one
single text could be adduced by Protestants in its refutation . " If,"
thought she to herself, " Scripture alone is to be my guide, as I
have always been taught, I must believe with Catholics on this
point. But how can I believe and commune with Catholics on
this point without ceasing to be a Protestant 1 How can I cease
to be a Protestant without inflicting a deadly wound on the
kindest, the warmest, the most generous of hearts'? ' Merciful
God! into what straits hast Thou brought me ! : ' Her swelling
heart beat in her breast as though it would have burst its con-
finement, until a gush of tears came to her relief; when sud-
denly, before she was aware of it, she heard her uncle's voice,
and, looking up, saw him standing by her side. The tears were
flowing from her eyes; she tried to conceal them, but the general
had perceived and noticed them to her: her only answer was,
-< Uncle, may I ask you a question V
"Yes, my dear Emma, a hundred, if you will."
" But you will not tell Edward that I have asked it of you V
laid she hesitatingly.
"My dearest child," said the general. " cannot you trust me,
who love you as though you were my own !"
" Well then, uncle, do you think a person cannot be savet 5
out of the Catholic Church T
John vi. ot
36
"That is the truth," answered the general, " and it is the
doctrine (if the Catholic; it is the doctrine of Christ himself.
For he has revealed a code of doctrines to be believed, and Tie
hr.-s added, 'He that believeth not shall be condemned,' or
'damned,' as your Bib'.c renders it.* Now as (he Catholic
Church most firmly holds and proves that she alone is the true
Church of Christ, she must hold this doctrine of exclusive sal-
vation as the doctrine of Christ, or surrender her title to the
true Church. Hence it is only in cases of invincible ignorance.t
that a person can be saved out of the pale of the Catholic
Church ; and even then, wo cannot say strictly that such a
person is out of the pale of the Church ; for every child that is
baptized is made a member of (he one, holy, Catholic Church;
and though he should have the misfortune to be brought np in
error, and to mak'e an open profession of erroneous doctrines,
he ceases indeed to belong to the external body of the Church,
but as long as his error is invincible he still belongs to the spirit
of the Church, and to the communion of Saints, until by grievous
sin he looses the vivifying spirit of divine grace."
There was a pause of some moments; at length, Emma
looked up from her fairy worK, and said, " I fear I am not in-
vincibly ignorant, since I have heard that sermon of Father Os-
wald's upon the Eucharist."
" My dear child, do not say yon fear you are not invincibly
ignorant; but rather say, 'I thank God I am not invincibly
ignorant ;' for to be brought to the knowledge of the truth is the
first and greatest blessing of God's saving love."
" But, uncle, were I to become a Catholic, Edward would be
so very angry, I do not think I could bear it ; and then he is so
clever, and knows so much, and tells me he himself is quite
convinced that a person who is a good Protestant will go to
Heaven; so I think I must be satisfied with St. Paul's order tu
wives to obey their husbands."
The general shook his head mournfully, and said, " Emma,
I see the strong workings of your heart, and I wish I could re-
\ieve them. The Apostle does not preach implicit obedience to
the husband in all things; for remember, 'If any woman have
a nusband that believeth not' . most assuredly he (.iocs ijol
send her to learn of him what she is to believe: fcr though 'U
Paul allows her to dwell in peace with him, yet he adds, It
the unbeliever depart, let him depart, for a brother cr sist '
uot under servitude in such cases.' ";
* Mark xvi. 1(5.
t Or invincible necessity. See flnwardeit'; Cht'ity and Tr^'.K
t 1 Cor vii. 13
FATHKK OSWALD., 37
" But you do not call Edward an unbeliever, uncle 1"
<: In similar cases," replied the general, " I believe the Apos-
tle would make no distinction between ai unbeliever and a mis-
believer."
" But, uncle," continued Mrs. Sefton in an imploring tone,
"would you have me make my husband so very miserable 1
Were it not on his account, I should certainly inform mysull
more about the Catholic religion."
" If you have any doubt on your mind, my dearest Emma, you
are bound to clear it up. Doubt is incompatible with divine
faith ; it is criminal to doubt of a revealed truth ; it is impious
tc reject it, when you know it to be revealed. How wicked,
then, must it be to shut your eyes against light, when it begins
to dawn upon you !"
"But, surely, you do not think I am obliged to sacrifice aJl
my peace in this world, when my husband, who has studied so
much about religion, tells me I can be saved, if I am a good
Protestant."
" Tell me, Emma, is your husband, with all his learning,
infallible 1 May he not err, and lead you. into error 1 Are
there not many others equally learned, who differ widely ir.
opinion from him on several essential and important points]
what certainty, then, can you have that he alone is right V
Emma sighed deeply. " Alas !" said she, " how often have
I, with the most poignant misgivings of my heart, observed the
great differences of opinions, even amongst those who are es-
teemed the best Protestants ; but is not this the unavoidable lot
of human nature 1 and, since all men arc subject to error, may
\ve not as safely follow one as another 1"
" If faith," replied the general, " were the result of human
speculation, or a mere human opinion, your conclusions would
be just; it would then be your duty to follow the opinion of
vour husband. But faith is a voluntary submission of our un-
derstandings to the revealed truth of God, grounded on His di-
vine authority alone; human authority can be no ground for'an
act of divine faith. You must then seek for some authority su-
perior to that of man, that you may not err in matters of faith.''
" Have we not the Bible V exclaimed Mrs. Sefton, with au
air of triumph.
" No doubt we have," answered the general ; " but you know
too well that Ihe Bible, the infallible Word of God, is made tc
speak a thousand different languages is wrested into a thou-
sand different meanings, and thus, only expresses the vague
opinions of men. The Word of God, when misinterpreted by
man, ceases to he the Word of God and becomes the deceitful 1
4*
38 KATHEK OSWALD.
word of man. In fine, it is not sufficient to know that God has
revealed a system of divine truths, hut we must know with equal
certainty and upon the same divine authority, what those tru'l.s
are. Nr.w, seek where you will, you will never find that cer-
tainty, but in the perpetual and living authority which Christ,
from the beginning, communicated to His Church."
Mrs. Sefton sighed. " I must acknowledge," said she, " that
I have often felt the necessity of such a guide; and often have
I envied the peace and security of Catholics, who believe them-
selves guided by an infallible authority. Oh ! how olten have
I felt my heart sink within me, anxiously, yet timidly, seeking
some one to tell me what is truth 1 what is error 1 And yet,
dear uncle, now that I am opening my heart to you, and speak-
ing as to a friend, I must acknowledge your conclusions seem
to me both unavoidable and unanswerable ; and yet 1 think
there can be but one source of truth in the world, and that the
Bible."
" But, my dear niece, if the Bible is the only source of truth,
how does it happen that so many people draw so many contra-
dictory doctrines from the same source ? The Protestant be-
lievetii 'every spirit,' and particularly his own : hence the thou-
sands of errors and contradictions into which lie falls. The
Catholic follows a more simple but perfectly secure rule, namely,
the authority of the Church, by listening to those whom Christ
commanded all 'to hear' as Himself, and to whom was given
the infallible promise, that the Spirit of truth should abide with
them 'for ever,' to teach them ' all truth.' "*
" But how shall we know that it is to the Catholic Church
this promise is made T'
" By following the directions which St. John gives us in ordei
to distinguish between truth and error,'' replied the general.
" What directions 1" said Emma, " I do not remember ever
to have heard them."
" Does not St. John say," answered the general, " 'We are
of God. He that knoweth God heardkus. He that is not. of
God kcarclh us not. By this we know the spirit of truth and
the spirit of error 1"t Now, from the time of St. John, down
to the present moment, every Catholic has heard, does hear, and
believe the Church ; that is, he hears and believes the lawful
successors of the Apostles whom Christ commanded ' to teach
all nations,' and promised ' to be with them all days, even to the
consummation of the world.' You Protestants, Emma, do r.ol
think it necessary to believe the parsons in matters of faith-
and no wonder, as they very liberally grant each individual
* John xiv. 16 ; xvi. 13. \ I John iv f
FATHER OSWALD. 39
permission to judge for himself about the interpretation of the
Bible: now if the Bible be the only source of truth in the
world, how happens it, that so many draw such fatal errors
from it ?"
" Because, I suppose." said Mrs. Sefton timidly, " Christ ha?
not promised to teach each individual person all truth to the end
of the world, but He has only promised it to the teachers of his
Church, I mean to the successors of the Apostles."
'' Exactly so, my dear child, and without an unerring guide,
the Bible is more frequently the source of error than of truth."
' But tell rne, uncle, if I try lo love God with my whole heart,
and strive to serve Him as well as I can in my present circum-
stances, may I not rest secure in His mercy V
"Emma," replied the general, " I must not conceal the truth.
God i:-. our Sovereign Lord, and demands the homage not only
of our whole heirt,, but of our whole mind also, and I cannot
see how you may be said to love, or to serve Him with your
whole mind, while you refuse Him the entire obedience of faith,
by firmly holding all and every article which He hath revealed;
for to doubt of one, even the leasr, would he to question his
veracity equallv as to doubt of all."
" Oh," sai.l Mrs. Selton, " it is enough for me to know thai
Christ my Lord and my God has spoken; I do believe every
word."
1: That is not enough," continued the general ; " we must at
every cost confess our faith before men, if we would not be
denied by Christ before the Father in Heaven; He has fore-
warned us that a man's enemies shall ' be they of his own
household.' "*
"What ! :) exclaimed Mrs. Sefton, clasping her hands in an
agony of despair, " is it necessary to save mv soul, that I should
come to such extremities as these ! Oh, uncle ! you little know
of what Edward is capable in sternness and determination.
Alas! alas! I dare not trust myself to think what would be the
consequences of my becoming a Catholic."
" I would fain spare your feelings, my dearest niece, if 1
could; but you have asked me to tell you the truth, and I should
ill repay the confidence reposed in me by deceiving you. It
would not be deceiving you in a matter of indifference, but de-
ceiving you in what concerns your eternal happiness or misery.
Our Saviour himself says, ' If any nrin come to me, and hau
not his father and mother, and wii'e, itv.' children, and brothei
and sister, yea, and his own life als., i.<: cannot be my disciple.'t
To bov-ome a disciple of Christ is to embrace and pro&ss his
Matt. x. 30 t I.ukt; xiv. 3u.
40 FATHER OSWALD.
doctrine; no worldly considerations, however dear, must with-
hold us from it. The trial is severe, but God will reward ihe
generous sacrifice a hundred fold."
At this moment the nurse came to call the little children to
dinner; they ran to kiss their mamma before they went and
gazed with innocent surprise in her face, seeing it covered with
tears; the next moment they were running after their nur=e, for-
getful of all but the sunshine in their own light hearts. Emma
took the general's arm, and they slowly followed the children to
the house. Mrs. Sefton felt convinced of the truth of the Catho-
lic religion, and would have freely and joyfully embraced it but
for the obstacles already mentioned. The struggle in her mind
hetween the sense of duty and the apprehensions she entertained
of what might be the consequences of acting upto \hat duty, made
her very unhappy. This unhappiness affected her naturally
cheerful spirits, and it was not long before \\f.r husband per-
ceived it. He observed her conduct closely, 1.1 order to find
what mighl be the cause of this alteration in one so dear to him ;
but he could discover no cause; he saw the innooenee of her
manners and pursuits the same as ever; he saw the daily tenour
of her life fulfilled with the same simplicity and urbanity to all
around her; the same attention to the feelings of others; the
same tenderness to her children and to himself; the same kind-
heartedness to every one. But he sometimes perceived, that
when she was fondly gazing on her little ones, he.r fine blue eyes
would become suffused with unbidden tears, and that she would
strive to smother a scarcely audible sigh in thit caresses of her
baby. Edward felt much pain from these circumstances, and
he resolved to win her confidence. Once pueeiving her more
affected than usual, he pressed her tenderly to his breast, and
entreated her to open her heart to him, and tell him if there
was aught which caused her affliction. At first she hesitated,
but yielding at length, she opened ktr whole heart to him.
Agitated by sorrow, by anger, ar.<i by scorn, he finally pushed
her from him, passionately cxc.aiming
" No, Emma ; never will 1 tatfe to my bosom a Catholic bigo.
-an idolatress ! Never shall my children suck in the abomina-
tions of popery with their mother's milk! I warn you ouce for
all and never shall my lips mention the subject again if you
should evar, Emma, dare to take this step, I shall think it rny
bounden duly before God to have my children placed in olhei
hands, and I shall not fail to act in consequence. But no, m\
own my beloved wife you cannot you will not, thus utter) j
cut up and destroy the happiness of one who does truly dedicate
ills whole heart to you to you, who are the solace the delighJ
FATHER OSWALD. 41
of his very existence 1 Answer me, Emmn, my love answer
me."
But Emma could not answer him; the weight of her emo-
tion was too great, und he abruptly left her. Alas! she knew
too well the firm, unbending nature of his character, when lie
thought he was acting from a point of duty; and her very heart
sunk within her when she repassed in her poor distracted mind
the terrible words he had just uttered. It was not till some
hours alter the sun had gone down on their emotions, that the
hearts of Edward and Emma were at all restored to a temporary
calm ; but when they rnet at supper, it was more in sorrow than
in anger ; and he saluted her with so much kindness, although
shaded by a tinge of sadness, and showed her so many little
attentions, that Emma's trembling heart was again re-assured
of her husband's affection, as she said within herself, " Whether
I am a Catholic or a Protestant, with me it will never make any
difference in my love to my husband."
Before retiring to rest she examined her heart before God, and
earnestly implored Him to direct her how to act, and to give her
strength to GO that which was right. Nor did she rh>e from
prayer before she felt her soul at peace.
CHAPTER VII.
" Danger may gather round thee, like the cloud
Round one of Heaven's pure stars, tliou'lt hold
Within thy course unsullied."
BY this time Weetwood, the ancient seat of general Russell's
ancestors, was ready for the reception of its master, and the
general IOOK up his residence there, amid the beautiful and ro-
mantic scenery of his " careless childhood." The house was
ancient, but in excellent repair, and the old chapel still preserved
its Gothic windows, with richly painted glass, casting hues of
gold and purple, over the beautiiul pavement and altar which
remained remnants of times gone by sweet relicks of the
taste of our ancestors in the Ages of Faith, when the Catholic
religion was the only one in England, and when the old religion
of the Apostles was thought sufficient; before the intellectual
pride of man had poured forth in Porteus form, a brood of dis-
cordant sects which now overspread the land. This hallovsd
42 FATHER OSWALD.
sanctuary had, in fact, withstood the storms of the Reformation,
and time had so slightly rwept its sculptured treasures, that his
touch seemed but to have mellowed and enhanced the exquisite
beauty of the chiselled ornaments which so profusely and ap-
propriately adorned it. The paintings, too, were in the finest
preservation, gems from the chaste and luxurious pencils of
Guido and Murillo. The general loved this spot, and never,
during the long years of his absence, was its remembrance ef-
faced from his mind. Often and often, in the toil and turmoil '
of war, when danger threatened him nearest, did he wish him-
self before its holy altars, which were associated in his remem-
brances with all the feelings he had experienced in his infancy
and early manhood feellrgs of piety, and peace, and holiness,
associated, too, with the memory of nis long lost and lamented
wife, who had shared with him, during their brief union, all the
soothing and holy sentiments which do honour to the man and
lo the Christian. Wectwood was ten miles from Sefton Hall,
and after the general had been settled there for some little time;
he wrote to beg Mr. and Mrs. Sefton to come with their family
to visit him ; this they accordingly did, and during the first
month of their visit, saw a great deal of company, all the neigh-
bouring families coming to renew their old acquaintance with
General Russell. At the end of a month Mr. Sefton was sud-
denly called to Devonshire, on business relating to some pro-
perty he possessed there. At the general's earnest request, he
left his wife and children at Weetwood, where they remain-
ed during his absence. It was during this period that Mrs.
Selton obtained much information on the Catholic religion,
which, owing to her particular situation, she almost feared
to seek ; but though her will remained wavering in this
state of irresolution, her understanding became daily more
convinced, and her heart daily more uneasy ; how often did (he
thought come to her mind, " What will it avail me if I enjoy
all the happiness this world can give, and lose my own soul?"
This was frequently her waking thought, and if she chanced
not to sleep during the night, her thoughts, in spite of herself,
constantly recurred to the same subject. She felt a void in
every tiling, an uneasiness and distaste in the discharge even ol
those duties dearest to her heart; she felt a want of something,
and a shrinking, timid fear of investigating her own conscience
as to what this something was. If she tried to pray, she lelt a
distraction, a hardness and drvness of heart, painful in the ex-
treme. She could not long endure this agonizing state, and she
sought an opportunity of opening her mind to some one. About
this time, there came to Weetwood the Catholic bishop of the
J'ATEIER OSWALD 43
iiocese, Dr. Thornton ; the object of his visit was to confirm the
children of the congregation, and to administer to them their
first communion: there were about thirty of them. Ernma
witnessed this touching ceremony, and she felt her heart melt
with tenderness at the sight of these little innocents appioaching
I he holy altar to receive their Saviour and their God. "And
i:an I never do so 1" exclaimed she, covering her face with her
hands, to conceal the tears which gushed from her eyes as she
Knelt in the little chapel, looking at this beautiful spectacle: the
anguish of her heart became too intense and oppressive to en-
dure, and she determined that evening to open her mind to thfi
bishop. She accordingly told her uncle she wished to speak
alone to the bishop. The general seemed affected, but not sur-
prised at her request ; he bade her follow him, and conducted
her to the sacristy belonging to the chapel, telling her to wait
there. This little sacristy was of the same architecture as the
chapel, though not so much ornamented ; its arched roof was at
once simple and striking; the window was of very rich painted
glass, representing the last supper, the glowing luxuriance of
the tints casting a mellow and sombre light into the interior of
the building, calculated to promote thoughts of calmness and
recollection. Ernma had never been there before ; and though
she was very much agitated during the time she was waiting,
she could not help remarking the air of stillness and beauty that
reigned within its walls. At length, the door opened, and the
bishop entered : he was a venerable-looking prelate, about sixty
years of age, with hair perfectly white, and a countenance beam-
ing with piety and benevolence. He approached Mrs. Sefton,
and seeing her extreme agitation, he begged her to sit down,
saying
" Your uncle, my dear Madam, told me you wished to speak
to me ; in what can I serve you 1"
" You are very good, my Lord ; I wished to speak to you in-
deed : because I am very unhappy ; you are aware I am a Pro-
Mstant."
" So I have been told ; but from your constant attendance in
the chapel, I should be led tc believe you a Catholic."
" No, I am not a Catholic , mv father was one, but my mother
was a very good Protestant, and brought me up in that Church ;
etill. though I am not a Catholic, 1 have no objection to the
Catholic religion, and I think I should like very much to becomt
one, if it were not for an insurmountable objection."
"My dear child, there can be no insurmountable objection
which the grace of God cannot overcome; do you know i was
once a Protestant T'
44 FATHER OSWALD.
" Yon, my Lord !" exclaimed Emma in great surprise.
" Yes ; 1 was a Protestant till I was one-and-twer.ty years ft
age."
'' And why, then, did you change your religion 7"
" Because I was convinced that the Catholic religion is the
only true one."
" But how, Sir, did you get courage to take the decided step,
or perhaps there was no c/ne who opposed you 1"
" Yes, my dear Madam, I met with great opposition from my
parents, for I was their eldest son ; but Almighty God gave me
the strength I needed."
" Oh, that the same God would give me strength !" exclaimed
Mrs. Sefton, "Oh, that He would enable me to do what is right!
but 1 have difficulties, very rery great difficulties."
"What is impossible with man is possible with God," said
the bishop; " if you mention vour difficulties to me, perhaps I
may be of .some service to you. 1 '
Mrs. Sefton then stated all her difficulties, the sum of which
was the fear of her husband ; and she ended by asking him,
if in his conscience he thought she could not be saved by lead-
ing a moral, good life, without openly embracing the Catholic
doctrines."
" My dear child," answered the bishop, " every thing in reli-
gion is connected and linned together; the morality of the
Gospel cannot be separated i'rom its doctrines : they reciprocally
support and enforce one another. We are to obey the precepts
of Jesus Christ, not only because they appear to us conformable
to reason and truly sublime, but because they have been en-
joined by Him who is the sovereign truth, and who has an tin-
conlrovertible right to command our ready and unreserved obe-
dience. Now. my dear Madam, from what you tell me, you
seem quite convinced that the Catholic religion is the true and
only religion founded by Jesus Christ. Is it not sol"
" Yes, my Lord, you have expressed what I feel."
"Well, then, I am bound to tell you, that yen cannot save
your immortal soul without giving to Jesus Christ the obedience
of faith which he requires of you; but take courage, there is
nothing so difficult in this. Did you ever read the History ol
St. Perpetua and St. Felicitasl"
" No. Sir, I never did."
" Well, they were both married women, and Perpetua was o!
a noble family; at the time of her martyrdom,; for she gave
her life in defence of her faith she had an infant at the breast,
and suffered much from her father on account of her constancy
vO Jesus Chiist; the parting i'rom her infant, you may imagine,
FATHER OSWALD. 45
was most sensible to her tender heart. Felicitas became a
mother in the prison where they were both detained for the
faith, and sh3 and Perpetua shortly after suffered a cruel martyr-
dom with the greatest courage and constancy. Now, my dear
child, these were delicate females like yourself, wives and
Tno.hers, who gave that which was dearest to them in this world,
namely, their lives, for Jesus Christ, and not only they, hut
hundreds and thousands of others did the same; for, rather
than deny Jesus Christ, they left their husbands, and wives, and
fathers, and mothers, and children, and every thing else that
was dearest to them ; but I recommend you to read the wholt
account of St. Perpetua and -St. Felicitas in the Lives of the
Saints."
" But these, Sir, were martyrs, and that all happened in the
first ages of Christianity.* 1
"Assuredly they were martyrs; but if you reflect a little,
you will perceive that if it was necessary to part with one's life
rather than one's fat/A in the first- ages of Christianity, in order
to obtain eternal salvation, the very same obligation exists wow ;
because the religion that Jesus Christ founded, the religion that
existed in the first ages of Christianity, and the religion taught
by the Catholic Church now, is all one and the same thing ; and
as you have read a great deal in the Holy Scriptures, you may
recollect our Saviour's words when he says, ' Every one there-
lore that shall confess me before men, I will also confess him
before my Father, who is in Heaven. But he that shall deny
me before men, I will also deny him before my Father who is
.in Heaven.' "* Mrs. Sefton sighed, and the bishop continued:
8 You will remember also what St. Paul says, ' With the heart
?ve believe unto justice ; but with the mouth confession is made
: .?nto salvation ;'t you see therefore, ray dear lady, that to be
laved, it is not sufficient that we hold the right faith in the heart,
but we must openly with our lips process it to the world, as the
martyrs did."
" But there are no martyrs in our times 1" said Emma, in-
quiringly.
" I beg your pardon ; there are many, even in the present
ray; though of course not so many as in the first ages of the
Church, because Christianity has almost in every part of the
kuown world, triumphed over paganism and idolatry. I can
plicv.* you several interesting accounts of different Catholic mis
Eions, ; .n which you M'ill find more than one martyr mentioned."
"Thank you, my Lord, I should like very much to see thesr
accounts; but, after all, the martyrs must have had a verygrea
* Matt. x. 32. 33. f Rom. *. 10.
46 FATHER OSWALD.
and extraordinary help from Got!, to sire them so much courage,"
said Mrs. Sefton, with an anxious sigh.
" The same God that gave them courage, can give you cour-
age,' replied the bishop with emotion ; " besides, you are not
required to give your life for Christ, but only to bear, for his
sake, the displeasure of your husband, supposing him even to
be seriously displeased with you."
" God only knows," said Emma, in a tone of great agitation,
K what t shall have to bear, if I attempt to do this."
"But do we not serve a tender and a loving Father"?" said
the bishop. " Nay, I am convinced that, however He may per-
mit you to be afflicted for a while, He will console you in due
lime. Act generously with Him, and He will not be outdone
vith generosity. From the very evil which yon dread the most.
He will draw the greatest good. Take courage, then, and joy-
fully embrace the cross from which you recoil, for the sake ol
hat Saviour, who. to save your immortal soul, died upon a cross
amid the most cruel and protracted torments. Yes, my dear
child, in order that you may possess eternal bliss, He became
the ' man of sorrows.' "
Emma wept.
" Go now," continued the bishop, opening the door which led
to the chapel, and leading her to the altar of the Blessed Sacra-
ment, "go now, and ask that Saviour, in whose divine and real
presence you believe, to give you the courage you want ; go,
and ask Jesus to give you one spark of that divine love which
ournt in the breasts of the martyrs."
Emma knelt down before the altar, and the bishop retired, and
leit her alone with her God.
She did pray ; and she prayed so ferventlv from her heart,
that He who has said, " Ask, and you shall ree< ive ; seek, and
vou shall lind ; knock, and it shall be opened to you,"* did give
her the courage she so humbly asked for. In three weeks from
that rime Emma was a Catholic. Father Oswald, by her par-
ticular wish, came over, from time to time, from his mission,
to instruct her in the practical duties of the Catholic religion,
for of her faith he had no doubt; she had received that precious
gift from God, and, with the docility of a child, submitted her
understanding to every dogma taught by the Church; he also
received her abjuration and heard her confession. This, indeed,
was a severe trial for Mrs. Sefton ; for, although in the eyes ot
the world the whole tenour of her life had been irreproachable,
and she had ever been esteemed a model of virtue and innocence
vet her tender conscience smote her inwardly for many and, a!
* Luke xi. 0.
FATHER OSWALD. 47
the thought, grievous transgressions of the law of God. To
manifest these misgivings of her inward souJ to a sinful man,
appeared to her yet unsubdued pride, an intolerable task. But
after she had been instructed by Father Oswald in the nature of
the divine precept, and had been made sensible of its reasona-
bleness, she strengthened herself with fervent prayer, and ap-
proached, with trembling limbs, to the sacred tribunal: for some
time she could not open her lips ; but, being encouraged by the
kind exhortations of the good father, at length summoning cour-
age, she mentioned those things which lay heaviest on her con-
science; a flood of tears followed the avowal, and in an instant
she Ibund her heart relieved from an unsupportable burthen.
Father Oswald, with the kindness of a parent, consoled and en-
couraged her ; then, enjoining a slight penance of some vocal
prayers, absolved and dismissed her. Then, for the first time
in her life, did she feel truly happy, learning from experience
how sweet is the yoke, how light the burthen of our merciful
Redeemer. The ?ood bishop shortly after confirmed her, and
administered to her for the first time the Holy Eucharist. Then
Emma was happy indeed ; she felt within her breast a satiety
of peace a fulness of hope, of which before she had not the
slightest idea. While a Protestant, she had always felt with
regard to her religion, that there was a something wanted, and
that there was an undefinable uncertainty of ideas in her mind,
a painful uneasiness lurking about her heart, which prevented
her ever being able to say, with decision and without doubt, I
am certain that I am in the right road to Heaven. But now it
was quite otherwise ; there were no misgivings in her heart
no vagueness in her ideas; both her heart and her understand-
ing told her she was in possession of the right faith, and this
certainty produced an indescribable peace and happiness through
ner whole soul. She knew now there was but "one faith, one
baptism, one God," and she wondered within herself that she
could have remained so long in the trying state of interior
doubts, and uncertainties, and sufferings, which she had endun.-d
for many months past. Now all was light, and peace, and joy
in her soul : her innocent pleasure and zest in all her daily du-
ties and occupations returned double fold ; she seemed to be
blessed with a new existence. Sometimes, to be sure, the
thoughts of what Edward might say came across her mind ; but
her faith was so firm in that God " who tempers the wind to the
shorn lamb," that she abandoned herself with an entire confi-
dence into the arms of her heavenly Father ; and placed all her
hopes for defence and protection in "Him who slumbereth noi,
nor sJeepeth."
FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER VIII.
"Sweetest Saviour, richest blessing,
Thou the wounded heart caressing,
Driest, ere it fill, the te;ir.
All, save thee, will but deceive us ;
All, save thee, can only grieve us ;
Let the world of all bereave us,
With thy love e know no fear." CATUOLTC limn.
A FEW weeks more, and Edward returned. He was delighted
to clasp again to his breast his wife and little ones, and he was
particularly rejoiced to perceive the evident improvement in
Emma's spirits and appearance. All her natural amiable vi-
vacity and sweet cheerfulness had returned; her eye, which had
latterly become downcast, was again lit up with its dove-like
lustre ; and her cheek, which for some months had been pallid,
again resumed the returning bloom of health ; she had never
appeared to the eyes of her husband more lovely nor more inter-
esting. The general would keep Ihem a little longer, and these
were to Emma days of pure and delicious happiness. At
length the day of parting came, and they returned to Sefton Hal!.
Emma knew that she was under an obligation of hearing mass
on all Sundays and holidays, from which nothing could exempt
her but sickness or serious inconvenience: she felt very much
embarrassed at thinking how she could fulfil this duty without
attracting Edward's notice and incurring his anger. The first
Sunday after their return home, she availed herself of an en-
gagement previously made, of visiting a lady, a Catholic friend
of hers, who lived in the neighbouring town of D , to go
there, and thus, besides paying her a visit, was able to hear
mass also. The next Sunday she did not find it so easy, as
Edward asked her to go with him to church ; however, she de-
.ermined that when they had arrived at D she would make
a request of being allowed to remain with her friend \vhil.. her
husband went to church : she did so, and thus was able to hear
mass another lime, without exciting suspicion. During the en-
suing week, Edward mentioned to her that he thought they
should take the Sacrament the following Sunday, as they had
been some time from home. Emma changed colour, and fell
very much frightened ; but as Edward was writing a letter when
he made this observation, he neither observed her confusion,
nor noticed that she had given him no answer. Emma felt
very uneasy all the week; but she prayed a great deal that God
would give' her strength to act rightly, and not to deny her faith
FATHER OSWALD. 49
On the last day of the week, Mr. Sel'ton after breakfast said lo
his wife
' I will thank you. Emma, to mention in the family that to-
rr.orrow is Sacrament Sunday ; and to give orders for Thomas
tu have the carriage and horses at the door by nine o'clock, be-
cause it will be better to go a little earlier, you know, love."
" Edward, 1 do not think I shall be able to go with you ti-
rnorrow," said Emma timidly.
" Why not, love 1 I trust, you do not feel yourself ill !"
"No, I am not ill, but . . ." here she seemed overcome, "but..."
" But what 1 what objection on earth can you have to go with
me to-morrow 1"
Emma hesitated.
" It is some time now since you have been to church, Emma,
and I must beg oi' you as a favour to go with me there to-mor-
row. 1 '
Emma was silent.
" This is not like your usual conduct, Emma. I need scarcely
tell you, I think that not approaching the temple of the Lord
and appearing sometimes in church is a bad example to others;
but I shall say no more about it, lor my Emma never opposes her
husband's wishes," said he, kissing her, " so it is all arranged."
Emma looked up in his face with an imploring gaze; then
timidly cast down her eyes, and said faintly, " My dear Edward,
1 cannot go."
" What is all this 1" said he, looking at her sharply : while a
vague suspicion of ihe truth suddenly flashed across his mind.
Emma looked terrified and was silent.
" These are some nonsensical popish ideas you have got into
Vour head." continued he ; " come, come, let me hear them, and
I will soon settle them tor you."
Emma was still silent.
" Now, Emma," said Mr. Sefton, with a. determined air, :: will
you go with me to church to-morrow V'
' 1 cannot, Edward."
"And what is the reason that you cannot, Emmal"
" My conscience forbids me."
"Why does your conscience forbid you 7 ? I cannot under-
stand; you must explain yoursell," said Edwaix/, much agitated.
' Oh ! Edward, do not i)c angry with me."
" I am not angry with you, Emma, hut 1 must know what all
this is ahout ; why does your conscience forbid you 1 answer
me that."
" I do not think the Protestant religion is the right on?. 1 '
"Not the right one! what nonsense: it is the papists who
5*
50 FATHER OSWALD.
have put all this stuff into your head. I insist upon your gcing
to church with me to-morrow."
" I cannot," said Emma, bursting into tears ; c: I can never
more join in Protestant worship."
" No ! and why notl" exclaimed her husband, fixing his gazo
intently on her.
" Because I have embraced the Catholic religion," said she,
in a mingled tone of firmness and anguish.
" You a Catholic !" answered Edward, turning pale; "what
("o I hear 1 Oh my God ! . . . Emma, you have not dared, no,
surely you have not dared to do such an act as this. But no,
my poor clear wife ! they have deceived you, they have deluded
you. You little know what papists are ; they are capable of
any thing to make proselytes."
" No; I have neither been deceived nor deluded," said Mrs.
Sefton firmly ; " it has been the act of my own free will, on the
firmest conviction of the truth."
" But when, and how, and where could you accomplish this T'
said Edward, with increased agitation.
" f became a Catholic when you left me at Weetwood.''
''It is, then," said Mr. Sefton, indignantly, " as I suspected;
it has been the work of your uncle. Would to God he had
never returned ! No doubt he was aided too, by that Jesuit,
Oswald ! You have had interviews with him, I am certain of
it ; tell me the truth."
"Yes; he instructed me in the Catholic religion, but it was
by mv own desire."
" Villain ! hypocrite ! true Jesuit ! Who can follow the wind-
ings of such wretches 1" exclaimed Edward with great warmth.
Emma was shocked at his violence, and, summoning courage,
said with some archness of look, "Methinks the best way of
stopping their audacity would be to follow them through all the
subtleties of their arguments, and openly expose their sophistry ;
when a person begins to scold, and use harsh words, one cannot
help having a little suspicion that there is a tougb adversary
to deal with, and that there is nothing better to give him in
reply."
Edward was still more provoked. "Do not talk such non-
sense to me," said he ; " you little know the arts of Catholics and
Jesuits ; but it is not yet too late ; this sad affair has not yet be-
come publicly known, and therefore, if you appear with me at
church to-morrow, all will yet be well."
"Edward," said Emma firmly, and with unwonted energy,
" I have from conviction become a Catholic. I have ahju-.'ikl
the errors of the pretended Reformation, and been received into
FATHER OSWALD. 5l
che bosom of the Catholic Church, and I will not deny Jesns
Christ before men, or He will deny me before His Father, who
is in Heaven "
" This is all religious enthusiasm all Catholic cant. I give
you one hour, Emma, to make up your mind, and to give me
your answer; but beware v " said he sternly, " Ibr if you con-
tinue obstinate, you will rue it to the last hour of your life."
When Mr. Sefton had left the room, Emma sunk on her
knees : she trembled so. that she could not stand she held both
her hands lightly over her throbbing heart she scarcely knew
where she was, nor what she felt, so great was the sense of op-
pression and terror which overwhelmed, her. Alter a few
minutes, a deep sigh burst from her, and, clasping her hands,
she lifted them to heaven, and said with intense fervour, " Jesus
Christ, Lord of all things, Thou seest my heart Thou knowest
my desire, possess alone all that I am. I am thy sheep, Thou
aft my Shepherd ; I was thy strayed and lost sheep ; out of thy
pure goodness and tender mercy Thou hast sought and brought
me back, like the good shepherd, to thy own fold. Oh ! speak
to my soul, for I am willing to hear thy voice, and give me
strength to overcome the wiles of the enemy, the allurements ol
the flesh, and the strong attachments of my nature. Let no
earthly considerations ever separate me from thy love. Be
thou my God, ray protector, my salvation." She continued in
ardent prayer during that fearfully anxious hour which passed
before her husband's return ; and He, who never forsakes those
that trust in Him, did he.tr her humble cry, and He filled her
heart with a calm and determined courage of which she could
never have believed it capable. When Edward re-entered the
room, Emma rosa from her knees, and stood meekly before him.
He drew her kindly towards him, and placing her on the sofa,
he seated himself close to her. " I am come," said he, "to hear
from the lips of my own Emma, that she will be to me all she
has ever been ; to hear her tell me, that the wife of my bosom
and the mother ol* my children will realize, as she has hitherto
done, all the fond and ardent dreams of my first affection."
Emma threw her arms passionately round her husband's
neck ; his voice faltered as he added, " To-morrow you will go
ivith me to receive the Lord's Supper, and then all will be for-
gotten and forgiven."
Emma looked wistfully in his face, and she saw that the tears
were falling from his eyes: she had never in her life seen
Edward weep, and all a woman's tenderness and love rushed
with a thrill of anguish to her heart; she clasped her hands in
agony. " Oh ! my God," exclaimed she, " help me." And
52 FATIIKR OSWALD.
then, alter a pause of deep and fearful agitation, she sa:t in a
.ow, hut firm and calm voice
" Listen to me, my own husband, I have but one soul, and il
I lose that, I shall be damned for ever; to save your life, or to
procure your salvation, I would willingly give my life at this
moment, but /must answer to God for the immortal soul He
has given to me, and which is created to love Him through an
endless eternity. It is God who will demand my soul of me at
the last day, the day ol' judgment, and not you. I am convinced,
after much prayer and deliberation, and mature examinaliui
and reflection, that the religion I have embraced is the only true
religion, and that to save my soul I must live and die a Catholic."
Edward started up ; she threw herself on her knees, and tried
to cling to him ; he spurned her from him, and rushed out of the
room.
In a few minutes, she heard a horse galloping past the win-
dows, a crowd of vague and undefmable terrors passed through
her mind ; she remained motionless on the spot where Edward
had left her, till she was roused by the cries of her little infant,
whom the nurse brought to be suckled. She took the child and
mechanically placed it at her breast ; the nurse seeing there
was something the matter, immediately retired, and left her
alone with her baby. When she had had it a little while in
her arms, her tears began to flow, which gave her some relief;
she pressed the child so tightly to her heart, that the little inno-
cent bit her breast, and then paused in its sweet labour to gaze
in its mother's face ; but seeing her smile upon it through her
tears, it again closed its little, eyes, and abandoned itself to all
the luxury of infantine love. " And when thou shalt be a man,
wilt thou too spurn thy mother !" said she, fondly caressing it,
" but now, oh ! now at least, thou lovest me entirely, and 1 am
all to thee."
What a long, long day did that seem to poor Emma. Mr.
Sefton did not return, and a thousand distracting thoughts and
tears racked her brain. At length, very late at night, she put
her babe into its cradle, and gave it the last kiss for the night.
Alas ! little did she think it was the last for a long and gloomy
period ; it slept with its nurse in a little room next to hers, that
she might hear it if it cried in the night ; but she did not hear il
all that night : for, worn out by mental exertion and anxiety,
she fell into a profound sleep, and did not awake till late the
next morning. She immediately rung for her child ; but when
the door opened, it was not the nurse and her baby who entered,
but her own maid. Mrs. Ashton. Mrs. Ashton had received
Emma into her arms when she was born, and had never after
FATHER OSWALD. S
been separated from her ; it would have beer difficult to havr.
found a more faithful and attached domestic. The moment
Emma saw her face, she knew something was wrong.
" Ashton," said she, in a voice of alarm, " what is the matter 7
How are the children 1 Where is my baby V
" Oh, my poor child ! oh, rny dear Madam !" exclaimed
Ashton, wringing her hands, " be calm; do not for God's sake
alarm yourself."
" I will not alarm myself," said Emma firmly; "but do yov.
fell me the plain truth instantly."
" Then, Madam, my master came back early this morning
*-ith Uvo carriages, and took away the children and the nurse."
"Not the babv V
"Yes, Madam, all. all."
" Merciful God !" exclaimed Emma, " can it be true V and
she sunk in a swoon in the arms of her attendant.
Mrs. Ashton rung ibr assistance, and when Emma's senses
returned, she said, in a low and tremulous voice, taking hold of
poor Ashton's hand, who was tearfully watching over her, " Send
directly for my uncle."
Mrs. Ashton did as she was desired to do ; and did also the
best in her power to restore and comfort her poor young mistress ;
but Emma spoke not; in her heart she thanked God that He
had given her strength to go through this bitter trial without
denying Him. She repeated over and over to herself, " Thy
will be done on earth as it is in Heaven," with an humble and
calm hope within her coul that God would not leave her without
support in whatever trials he might please to appoint her yet tc
endure. In a few hours, violent fever naturally succeeded, and
when her uncle arrived, she did not recognize him, and was as
totally insensible of his presence as she was of the remembrance
of the injustice and violence, which had brought on the sudden
and dangerous illness, that confined her to her bed ibr many
long and tedious weeks.
* Eph. :v. 5. t John .x 19.
t lieb. xi. 6 t) James v. 14. 15.
54 FATHER OSWALD
CHAPTER IX.
' Alas ! we listen to our own fond hopes.
Even till they scern no more our fancy's children ,
We put them on a prophet's robes, endow them
With prophet's voices, and then Heaven speaks in them
And that which we would have be, surely shall te."
WHEN the events related in the last chapter occurred. Harriet
was not at Sefton Hall, but some forty miles distant, on a visit
.o a friend. She was extremely surprised and concerned at
receiving one morning a letter from her brother. She opened it
with a trembling hand, fully persuaded that it would announce
some dire event; lor a croaking raven had flown across her
path in her evening walk the preceding day. Her superstitious
i'ears, however, were somewhat abated when she read that
Emma had declared herself a Catholic, and that her brother
had in consequence thought it righi to remove the children from
her ; adding, that he had placed them at Eaglenest Cottage, on
his property in Devonshire, being resolved to try what rigour
would do, to compel his wile to retract the errors and abomina-
tions of popery. He concluded by begging Harriet to relurn as
soon as possible to Seflon Hall, in order to report to him the
exact state of things there, and to assist in bringing Emma back
to her duty. This letter both surprised and grieved Harriet ; it
surprised her, because, though she knew the sternness of her
brother's character, she never could have imagined he would
have shown such unreasonable severity towards a wife to whom
he was devotedly attached ; it grieved her, because she herself
loved Emma with the affection of a sister, and knew well her
excellent and exemplary conduct as a wife, a mother, and a
I'riend. Harriet's ideas of liberty of conscience were very exten-
sive, and she could in no wise reconcile it to her ideas of right
and wrong, that people should be restrained in their own opin-
ions on religious matters, more especially those who did no
harm to their fellow-creatures; and not only did she know that
Mrs. Sefton did no harm to any one, but she was fully aware
that she did much good, and, moreover, made all around her
happy. " Well," said she to herself, as she sloAvly folded up her
brother's letter, " I am very sorry for all this ; but certainly 1
thought that raven note foreboded something worse ; I never
heard a raven croak on my left hand that something ill did not
happen ; and, now I recollect, both the cats turned their tails
to the /' Vst night, and I never knew that fail to produce some
FATHER OSWALD. 55
nnbrr.glio or another ; still I think there is much ado abou
nothing. It seems to me the best thing I can do is, to go imme-
diately to poor Emma; besides, if I write to my brother, only
having heard his side of the question, I shall probably give my-
self a great deal of useless trouble to no purpose: for I hate
\vriting letters at any time, especially on other people's concerns.
But then, again, ho\v vexatious it is to have to leave my friend
in such a bustle ! when I thought 1 was quite comfortably
settled here, with nothing to do but enjoy myself for anothei
month at least to come. Out upon the raven ! Fie upon the
cats ! Well, I must have patience. I have heard it said ' one
cannot go smack smooth to Heaven ;' so I suppose there is no
help for it. Let me see, to-morrow is Thursday that is a
lucky day. I would not set out on the following day for all the
world." So saying, she gave orders for her departure, and
before eight o'clock the next morning was on the road to Seftcn
Hall. This promptness in Harriet was really an exertion of
friendship ; for being a lady of considerable embonpoint, and
nabitually indolent and passive in her disposition, it required a
strong impulse to produce any exertion above the ordinary
routine of a very easy and quiet life. Her dislike to mental
exertion was in the same ratio as her disinclination to locomo-
tion, and hence arose her favourite maxim of every one thinking
and acting as fancy dictated, and her frequent surprise at what
appeared to her the useless trouble people often took to maintain
their opinions, even on matters of indifference ; whereas a
quiet acquiescence, or simple silence, in all things where there
was no evident crime, was what she always employed, and
recommended to the practice of others. Alas ! in the land of
Bibles and of religious license, she had frequent occasion to
exercise her patience. The nearer she approached to Sel'ton
Hall, the more anxious she felt; it was a bitter, cold, wintry
day, the ground covered with snow, and the northern bins
howling through the trees. As she drove through the loiij
avenue, she passed general Russell, who was pacing slow!)
towards the house, with his arms folded and his eyes on th<
ground. At the sound of the carriage wheels, he looked up .
there was a deep melancholy on his brow, but a smile of plea-
sure and surprise lit up his countenance when he recognizea
Harriet, and he quickened his steps to follow the carriage to the
Hall. Harriet was painfully struck with the air of melancholy
desolation about the place ; nearly all the windows in the house
were closed, and when the old butler opened the door, and she
found herself within the fine old Hall, she saw there was no
blazing fire within its ample chimney, nor sign of comfort, nor
welcome, as was wont to be,
56 FATHER OSWALD.
" Oh Miss Harriet ! is it you!" said old Willdns. "I am
right glad to see you, Madam : but, Lord bless me ! your room?
will be as cold as the North Park ; there has not been a fire in
them these weeks and weeks past."
"Never mind that," said Harriet, impatiently; t: that incon-
venience is easily remedied, my good Wilkins ; but how is
Mrs. Sefton 1 Where is she 1 Pray show me into her room
Immediately."
" Oh, Mi.ss ! sad changes since you were gone. My pool
master who could have ever thought it would you believe
Miss Harriet" popery, rank popery, in his own house."
Harriet made a move to pass him, saying, " I have heard my
sister is ill. and I wish immediately to see her," muttering a 1
the same time to herself, " 1 knew there was ill foreboded by
that unlucky raven."
" To be sure. Ma'am, to be sure." said the old Butler wiu
deference; "and then I will tell the housekeeper to put your
rooms in order. My poor mistress is still confined to her bed,
Miss," continued the good butler, tapping very gently at hei
door.
Mrs. Ashton came out, and started when she saw Harriet.
"Oh, Ma'am ! God bless you; my poor mistress! We have
need of comfort here ; but I had best speak to her before you
come close to the bed, Miss."
" Yes, do so," said Harriet, scarcely able to articulate.
Harriet approached the bed, and Emma made an effort of
joyful surprise to raise herself up to fold her in her arms, but
sank exhausted on her pillow ; and Harriet burst into an agony
of tears, when she beheld the emaciated form that lay beforo
her : she was obliged to leave the room, and it was some time-,
ere the sisters could see one another without mutual agitation,
and emotion.
" I will certainly write to my brother, an account of the state 1
find her in," said Harriet to the General, " and try to persuade
him of the folly of his conduct."
" Rather say of the cruelty, injustice, and bigotry of his con-
duct/' exclaimed the General, indignantly.
"Nay, nay, my good General, not so bad as that neither;
for Emma certainly ought not to have taken the step she has
done, knowing, as she did, how displeasing it was sure to be to
Ed ward."
"So you would have had her lose her soul to please her hus-
band ! but, putting that trifling consequence of rejecting the
truth aside, Miss Sefton must be aware, that one essential part
of the Protestant religion is libcrtv of conscience m the Iree
FATHER OSWALD. 57
interpretation of Scripture: now, if my niece chose to interpret
some of the most forcible texts of Scripture in favour of the
Catholic Church, I should like to know what consistent Protes-
tant has a right to persecu'e her ?"
" Very true, General ; very true/' said Harriet, alarmed at
the idea of a discussion ; for my part, I think all religions are
equally good, if a person only lives up to them; and I am sure
no one could be a better Christian than Emma was, nor a better
wile, nor mother; and my opinion is, there is much ado about
nothing, and so I shall take care and tell Edward."
Harriet accordingly wrote a letter to Mr. Sefton, remonstra-
ting with him on his conduct towards his innocent wile, and
describing in very pathetic terms the state to which his unkind-
ness had reduced her. Mr. Sefton was much affected by this
letter, and as he could not help leeling the truth of some "tf his
sister's reproaches, it made him very uncomfortable and angry
with himself, and consequently still more angry with poor Emma.
But knowing his sister's easy sentiments on religion, he so-
phistically reasoned himself into a belief, that her opinions on
this point ought not to be attended to, and that it was his duty
to steel his heart to every sentiment of compassion arising from
his wife's illness. In this frame of mind, he wrote to Harriet,
expressing his displeasure at her indifference as to what tenets
of faith a person held, and exhorting her to use her utmost en-
deavours to recal Emma to the reformed Church, expressing
also his decided wish that Dr. Davison should visit her, and
endeavour by instruction to reclaim the lost sheep from the errors
nf popery. "To this end, he wrote a letter full of zeal to Dr.
Davison, entreating him to do his duty, and to give him detailed
accounts of his interviews with Mrs. Sefton ; he wrote lastly to
l>oor Emma herself, a letter beginning with upbraidings and re-
proaches, and ending with lamentations and expressions of affec-
'ion. Many a tear did Emma shed over this letter; but she
was yet too weak to answer j,t ; she revolved what she slu.uld
say in return, over and over again in her rnind and in the inward
recesses of her afflicted spirit ; and this increased her anxiety
and habitual fever. The General and Father Oswald, who
constantly attended her, soon perceived she was laboring under
some additional uneasiness ; it was not long ere she told them
the reason of her anxiety, and her pain at not being able to
answer her husband's letter: that which had not occurred to
her in her weak and agitated state, immediately occurred to her
two friends, namely, for her uncle to write at her dictation. The
letter she dictated was both touching and firm; touching, be-
cause it expressed the sentiments of a heart, which, though
6
CS FATHER OSWALD.
deeply wounded, yet yearned and overflowed with affection
towards him whom she had chosen for her friend and protector
during tnis mortal pilgrimage; and firm, inasmuch as it ex
pressed her fixed determination to be faithful to her God, and tc
live and die in the faith to which He in His mercy had brought
her. After this letter had been despatched, she seemed much
relieved, and the affectionate care of Harriet, united to the un-
remitting attentions of the general and Father Oswald, con-
tributed not a little to place her in a convalescent state. In the.
meantime, Dr. Davison received Mr. Sefton's letter, desiring
him to go to Sefton Hall, and endeavour by every effort to re-
claim his wife from the errors of popery. When this letter \v;;s
brought to the good parson, he was sitting after his dinner dozing
over a large fire, with the " Sportsman's Annals" in his hand.
or rather on his knees, whither it had inadvertently si ipt, after
many vain endeavours to keep his attention fixed on the ani-
mating contents. "The Lord be merciful unto me, a sinner ! >:
muttered he, with an indescribable groan of dismay, as he pe-
rused the contents nf Mr. Sefton's letter.
" Did you tell me to ring for the tea, my dear 1" said his
wife, who was sitting with her back to her worthy mate, engaged
on a tambour-frame.
"I did not say so, Mrs. Davison, I did not say so," said the
Doctor shaking his head, " though God knows I have need of
something to keep up my courage at this particular trying
moment. A fine job cut out for me, indeed ! as if I could do
any good! as if I could stop popery, or hinder folks following
their own mad ideas ! But he always was, and always will be
a fiery zealot."
" Doctor Davison, are you raving, or are you dream ing 1"
said his wife, who not having perceived the entrance of the
letter, really thought the worthy Doctor was suffering from
uneasy dozing.
"I am neither raving nor dreaming." Answered he, " I wish
I was : but here is a letter from that hoi-neaded zealot, Edward
Sefton, who wants me to neither more nor less than go and
bring that poor wife of his Knck again from popery."
" Oh !" said Mrs. Daf.-* t. . " she has loo much popish blood
m her veins."
" Yes ; her father wa. ; Catholic."
" However," said Mrs. Davison, "you know she had a wor-
my, pious mother, who gave her an excellent Protestant edu-
cation."
"Aye, aje, and great trouble had I in securing that point.
You remember her mother promised her husband on his death-
FATI1EK OSWALD. 59
oed, to send their only daughter to a nunnery for her education
and how I had to labour before I could quiet her scruples. B,.
all labour in vain ! What is bred in the hone, will never be
out of the flesh. What hopes, then, can there be of her con-
rersion 1 Now, my dear, think of my difficulties, think of the
folly of attempting such a thing; ill as she is, too, and, what is
worse, guarded bv that Cerberus of an uncle, whose very bark
is enough to terrify one."
"Aye, and what is still worse." said his wife, "constantly
visited, as I am informed, by that sly, hypocritical Jesuit, Father
Oswald, as they call him ! however, for all that, Dr. Davison, I
should certainly think it my duty, were I in your place, to make
a trial at least, to bring the poor misguided soul back from the
delusions of popery."
" Bless me ! how you talk, Mrs. Davison ; you had best take
tie Bible to her yourself, I think. How unfortunate is this
business, just at the time when the grand coursing match is to
come off; I should be sorry to lose that; for you know our
greyhound, Spanker, is entered, and I must be there to see i'air
play. I will thank you, however, to order my tea; that will
perhaps throw some light on tbis difficult matter."
Mrs. Davison did as she was desired to do, and called out to
Jenny at the top of her voice to bring the tea, and, added she,
" bring also. Jenny, at the same time, the Doctor's Cogninc."
After a few cups oi' the refreshing beverage had been con-
sumed, Mrs. Davison recommenced her observations.
"Well, Doctor, and what line of conduct do you mean to
adopt in this very difficult matter 1"
" Why, Mrs. Davison, something I must do, that is certain,
or I fear Air. Seiton is capable of going to the Bishop about it.
I shall write to him, however, and endeavour to soothe him, and
persuade him that I will do my best ; but I really think, my
dear, the most prudent way to begin, will be for you to go and
call on Mrs. Seiton first, as it might be to inquire after her
health."
"Well, I think so too," answered his wife, " and I will take
a' the same time the Bible with me, in case an opportunity
fcbouM occur"
" No, my dear, no," interrupted the Doctor, '' the Bible at 'the
rst visit ! no; it requires the greatest possible prudence. Mrs.
Davison : " for, between ourselves, I may tell you, J cannot ap-
prove of that mania for Bible reading which I/SL, seized upon
Llie people of the present day so universally."
" How so V exclaimed his wife, with a loo> great aston-
ishment
60 FATHER OSWALD.
"Why, do yju not perceive that the Church is in danger;
that it is fritteied away into a thousand discordant sects'] and
be.ieve me, the true cause of all this is the imprudent distribution
of the Bible amongst the illiterate and vulgar. Every hot-
headed zealot reads it, and invents a new religion for himself
and his silly neighbours ! No, no ; it is high time we should
exert the authority of the Church to put down these accursed
heretics."
" Really. Doctor Davison, you astonish and confound me, to
hear you talk in this style; why, I thought to read the Bible
was the glorious privilege of Protestants."
" No doubt, no doubt, as far as reading goes I can have no
objection ; but then people should read it in the sense of the
Church."
" Well, really, I can see no use in reading the Bible at all,
unless people try to understand it, and form their own judgment
on it," interrupted Mrs. Davison; ( 'and pray, Doctor," con-
tinued she, "how can you bring authority to bear upon Mrs.
Sefton 1"
"Aye, there is the rub," replied the Doctor with a sigh.
" truly, we live in awful and perilous times. If we proclaim
authority, the Papists silence us in a moment If we assert the
right of private judgment, the sectaries undermine us. The
Church has been brought into a false position, and I do not see
how it can stand."
" Come, come, Doctor, do not let your courage down ; I can
see a remedy. Why, can you not harass the papists with the
Bible, and awe the Dissenters with authority'?"
" Humph." groaned the Doctor, "that is an awkward busi-
ness ; yet I see no other way of proceeding."
" Well, then, I will take the Bible with me to Mrs. Sefton."
" No, no, that will not do at all ; Mrs. Sefton has read the
Bible for years ; and she will tell you she understands it as well
as yourself. Besides, I should not wonder if that red-hot gene-
ral was to throw the pure translation of the Word of God in
the Protestant Bible out of the window. I have heard him
&ay strong things on that subject; you little know him, I assure
you."
" Well, my dear, I will be guided by you ; only I would no-
wish to act too tamely in such a cause," answered his wife.
The next day, Dr. Davison wrote a long letter to Edward,
assuring him of his grief at Mrs. Sefton's tailing off from the
pure doctrines of the Reformation to the errors of Catholicism,
and concluding with warm assurances, that he would exert all
his learning and authority to bring her back from the horrors ol
FATHER OSWALD. 61
popery. Mr. Sefton was much pleased with this letter, anc
iondl y flattered himself that the doctor would succeed. He cculd
not imagine that Emma, separated from her little ones and from
him, would be long ere she made up her mind to grant the
wished-for concession ; for he knew well that theory and prac-
tice are very different, and that the courage and perseverance
of the happy and contented wife and mother might be very dif-
ferent from the courage and perseverance of the bereaved mother
and comfortless wife ; in fine, he fully persuaded himself that
he should succeed, and anticipated a speedy and happy return
to his own home. How far his hopes were realized must be
related in another chapter.
CHAPTER X
" Mark you this, Bassanio,
The Devil can cite Scripture for his purpose." SHAKSPEAKE.
A DAY or two after Doctor Davison had despatched his letter
lo Devonshire, his favourite little poney, Mouse, was harnessed
lj the poney-cart, and Mrs. Davison, dressed in her best, pro-
ceeded to make her intended visit at Sefton Hal!. Emma was
n..)\v able to sit up, and though, when Mrs. Davison was an-
nuunced, she felt both nervous and frightened, yet, with her
usaal urbanity, she yielded to Harriet's wish that she should be
received.
Mrs. Davison was much struck with the change in Emma'."
appearance, and being a personage who had not much command
over her feelings, she involuntarily exclaimed
" Good God. Mrs. Se.'ton, how you are changed !
" Yes/' said Emma faintly, and trying to conceal her emotion.
" I dare say I am changed, for I have been very ill since I saw
you last."
" Mrs. Sefton is much better now, Madam, and I trust wil.
*oon be entirely restored to her usual health," said Harriet
rather dryly.
" I hope so indeed, Miss Sefton ; but when the mind is ill at
ease, the body will not mend. I know that Ma'am ; so, for lha!
reason, I made nothing of coming a couple of miles this bitter
cold day, to see how matters were going on, and to see also if I
could be of any use, or Dr. Davisoa e'ther; how sorry will he
6*
f>2 FATHER OSWALD
be to licai* the way 1 have found kind, excellent Mrs. Selton In
but, 'all is not lost that is hid, and while there is life there if
hope ;' so we must trust the doctor will soon be able to bring all
things quietly about."
" The hectic of a moment" flushed Emma's pallid cheek, as
she attempted to answer the bustling volubility of Mrs. Da visor. ;
it was but a passing emotion of wounded feeling instantly re-
pressed, and in a gentle and calm tone, she said
" I thank you, Madam, lor your kind interest about me. ]
am now daily recovering my health, and as to my mind, it is,
thank God, in perfect peace."
" In perfect peace ! that cannot be ; you can never persuade
me of that," exclaimed Mrs. Davison, her zeal getting the
oetter of all prudence, compassion, and politeness.
"And why not 1 ?" said Emma mildly.
" Because," answered Mrs. Davison, " the pitiable idolatrous
practices of the Catholic Religion which you have unfortunately
embraced, can never bring peace to the mind, I am sure."
" They are pitiable visionaries, and ignorant fanatics, who
think so," replied Emma, now aroused to something of her
natural spirit. " I should have thought few people in this en-
lightened century could yet believe such fables; idolatry could
certainly never bring peace ; but the knowledge of the true
religion can bring true peace, and has brought peace to me."
" Yes, yes, I dare say your new friends keep their grossest
superstitions out of your sight for fear o( startling you too soon;
but I pray God it may not yet be too late to bring you back to
the pure and primitive religion of the Bible."
"I do not know what you mean, Ma'arn, bv speaking in that
manner: the Catholic religion condemns superstition as much
as you cnn do, and to be guilty of supeiscition is torendcronescll
culpable before God ; but, perhaps, you will tell me what you
mean by superstition V
" I mean, my dear Mrs. Sefton, picture-worship, the dreadful
idolatry of the mass, holy water. I mean, I mean in fine, all
the abominations of the corrupt Church of Rome."
Harriet laughed outright. "I thought, Ma'am," she r-r.id
" you would have preached about omens, dreams, and clu.rms.
and the innocent observance of birds and beasts. Edward used '
to call that superstition : now I am glad to find he was mis-
taken."
" Superstition," according to Johnson, " is religious reverence
paid to things which are not worthy of such reverence," ex-
claimed General Russell, appearing from behind a large Indian
screen, sphere he had been sitting, reading the newspapers, it,
FATHER OSWALD. 63
no very pood humour at Mrs. Davison's interruption ; " or, still
more accurate!}', Madam," continued lie, " superstition is an
inordinate worship of the *rue or o;' ? false divinity. This is
the definition of it given by all divines, which, with due defer-
ence tc the wisdom of the parson in petticoats, is, I think, quite
as correct as the one I have just heard."
"Lord bless me! General, is it you'*" exclaimed Mrs. Davi
son, starting, "why you have put me into a tremble from head
to loot."
" To accuse us of superstition," continued the General, without
minding Mrs. Davison's tremble as she called it, " is then to
say, that we either worship the true God in an inordinate man-
ner, or that we worship false gods, or that perchance we r re
guilty of both: now, will you tell ine, Mrs. Davison, to which
of the tenets of the Catholic Church does any of these three
modes of superstition apply V
" Really, General, you make so furious an onset, that you
quite bewilder my poor head," exclaimed Mrs. Davison ; " it
would require the Doctor himself, with his Bible in his hand,
to answer all your deep definitions and learned sentences."
" Well, then, Ma'am, as you cannot defend, it is rash in you
lo attack; but as you are aware that rny niece has been danger-
ously ill, you must excuse me if I request you to accompany
Miss Sel'ton and myself to the dining-room, where luncheon is
no doubt by this time ready."
Mrs. Davison very reluctantly withdrew, telling Emma at the
same time, "that as she was now able to sit UP, she should take
an early opportunity of returning, accompanied by Dr. Davison,
who would be much rejoiced to see her convalescent."
At length Harriet and the General succeeded in getting ihe
loquacious old lady into the dining-room, where she consoled
herself with a hearty luncheon for the mortification she had
experienced from what she called the General's rudeness.
When they had left the room, poor Emma hid her face in her
hands, and burst into tears. Mrs. Davison's visit had been quiie
unexpected, and the attack on her religion still more so; nei.her
she nor her uncle had the least idea of Edward's plan of recon-
version; for Harriet's sympathy with her sister-in-law was so
sincere, that she carefully abstained from giving the least hint
on the subject, and expressed in her letters to her brother her
opinion, that his project was both cruel and useless. Emma
fcit all the painful delicacy or her situation in being sepanitcd
from her husband, and the thoughts of what the world and those
who were ignorant of the cause of this separation would say
anil think, caused her many an anxious moment. At thesr
64 FATHKR OSWALD.
times she would offer up her keen suffering to God, and say :
" Accept this most painful sacrifice, O my God, in union with
.he dreadful mental agony my divine. Saviour suffered in the
parden of Gethsemani ;" and then, though the sense of her suf-
fering still continued, she fait a peaceful calm in her soul, and
an unspeakable consolation in knowing she was submil'.ing
herself to the will of God, and hearing this humiliation for His
sake. It was therefore quite true what she had told Mrs. Da-
vison. though '.hat lady could not understand it that she
found perfect peace after she had embraced the Catholic religion.
Dr. Davison was not at all satisfied with the account his wife
gave of her mission, and accused her of imprudence, in hav-
ing made matters worse instead of better. He knew enough
of human nature to feel satisfied, that open opposition was
never the way to reclaim people from what they considered a
high sense of duty, and, therefore, resolved to try other means
to perform this disagreeable office. From time to time he
called on Mrs. Sefton, and sometimes asked a question of ex-
planation on different Catholic practices, listening to hers or the
General's explanations quietly, with an air more of curiosity
than opposition. This implied deference encouraged Emma to
i'eel gradually an interest in conversing with him ; at least she
did so without the perturbation she lelt at his first visit. Still
he saw he was gaining nothing, and wrote to Edward stating
how things were going on. Edward suggested he should go
and reside for a few weeks at the Hall, under the pretext of
having access to the library, on account of a work he had in
hand. Edward, therefore, wrote to his wife to that effect, and
she of course made no objection; nor, indeed, had she the
slightest suspicion of the real motives lor the sojourn. Not so
the General, who began to see through the matter; but as it
was not his house, he could only vent his vexation by grumbling
to himself, and now and then expressing his impatience to
Harriet.
" I kne ,* if.at no good could come from this visit," observed
flarriet; " for, ever since the Doctor entered this house, I have
heard an owl hooting before my windows every night."
'Pooh! pooh!" said the General, smiling, "don't make
these vain, senseless observations. The owl would have hooted
just the same, although the Doctor had been a hundred mile*
away."
" I do not know that," replied Harriet, with a solemn shake
of her head ; " I never heard hooting of owls which did not
bring some trouble."
" Come, ccnne, take courage, Miss Sefton, the Doctor and I
FATHER OSWAMJ. 65
hear the hooting as well as you, so the trouble may be meant
for him, or me, or perchance we may all share it together."
Mrs. Sefton was not yet able to leave her sofa, or even to
stand, but her friends often in the evening assembled round her
couch to beguile the tedium of convalescence. On oneofthe.se
evenings, in attempting to change her position, a rosary fell
from her sofa upon the ground. Dr. Davison, who was sitting
Jhe nearest to her, picked it up, and held it very deliberately in
his hands for a few minutes, as if to examine its construction ;
then giving it back to jV'rs. Sefton, who coloured a little in taking
it, he said, " Is not this the thing which Catholics call Beads 1"
" Yes; it is a Rosary or Beads," replied Emma.
"And is it possible that you, my dear Mrs. Sefton, can be
guilty of using such a mockery," said the Doctor solemnly.
" Oh, Sir! indeed, the use of the Rosary is not a mockery,"
exclaimed Emma eagerly ; " but, on the contrary, a source of
the most tender and solid devotion."
" Tender and solid devotion ! Good God ! what abuse of
terms," said the Doctor, somewhat angrily.
"Yes," replied Mrs. Seflon firmly ; "I repeat what I said;
for, in reciting the Pater No-ters and Ave Marias, Catholics are
taught to call to mind and contemplate the great mysteries of
man's redemption in the life, and sufferings, and glories of Jesus
Christ."
" Downright nonsense." said the Doctor contemptuously.
" Protestants who scoff at the Rosary, understand it not," ex-
claimed the General indignantly; "hut, 'blaspheming those
things which they know not, shall perish in their corruption.' "
" Softly, softly, General," said Harriet, smiling; "it is con-
trary to our Saviour's positive commands, you know, to use re-
petitions in our prayers ; I love to say short prayers."
" Indeed !" said the General, dryly ; " I never heard of such
a command."
"Perhaps not, Sir," said the Doctor, with an air of triumph ;
" yet, verily, it is expressly recorded in the Bible."
" Where ?" asked the General.
The Doctor took out a pocket Bible, and, turning over th
1 tuves, read, " When ye pray, use not vain repetitions, as ih<
heathens do."t " There, General, what say you to that 1"
" I say that it is a shamefully false translation; in the origi
nal Greek there is not one word importing ' vain repetitions.' '
"Pray, Sir, How do you render the Greek 1" inquired the
Doctor.
" Thus: ' When ye pray, gabble not like the heathen.' "j
* 2 Peter, ii. 12. t Mutt. vi. 7.
t Sue A New Version of the Four Gosncls . bv a Catholic inloea
(>G FATHER OSWALD.
"Nevertheless," replied the Doctor, in a grumbling tone, "
prefer our own authorized translation."
" Though it may be false 7"
"Yes; because it is more explicit;" and, turning towards
Harriet, " what is much worse, we have here repetitions of that
idolatrous prayer called the Hail Mary."
"Away with such cant about repetitions!" interrupted th?
General. " If repetitions in prayer be vain, what shall we sav
of the inspired David, who, in one psalrn, repeats twenty-seven
times the same words: ' For his mercy endureth forever,'* that
is, once in every verse 1 What shall we say of the Seraphim,
who rested not night and day, saying, " Holy, holy, holy, Lord
God Almighty, who was, and who is, and who is to comeT?
What shall we say to the example of our Redeemer, who, in
his fervent and prolonged prayer in the garden, 'prayed the
third time, saying the self-same words V "t
"What shall we say, indeed, to that most touching example,' :
said Emma, sighing, " in Him who was perfection itself,''
" This seems plausible enough," replied Harriet. tij.. t ..,:it!"ul-
ly ; " but still 1 think the repetition of prayers in Latin must be
a labour which can bring no improvement to the soul."
" If any one does not understand Latin, let him say his pray
ers in English," answered the General: " the Rosary is transla
ted into all languages, and is generally repeated in the vernacu-
lar of each country ; besides, most good Catholics have a deep-
felt consolation in understanding a little of the universal lan-
guage of the Church, and in being able to join in those prayers
and psalms which are in common and daily use amongst us ;
particularly at the holy sacrifice of the Mass. You would be
frequently astonished in Italy and Spain to hear the most illite-
rate and uneducated amongst the peasants and common people
answering even to antiphons and psalms which occur but once
or twice in the year.
"But they do not understand what they thus repeat with
their lips in a language different from their own; how can they'"
asked the Doctor.
"To be sure they understand it; and much better. I think,
than your people understand the Hosannas and Alleluias which
you teach them to sing, and which, you know, are expressions
of a far more difficult language. Catholics generally more
especially on the Continent are taught these little prayers with
their catechisms, and they daily hear and join, more or less, in
the Church service. Catholic churches are not shut up like
Protestant places of worship, every day but Sunday ; in Catholic
countries, religion is one of the daily and hourly concerns oj
* Psalm, cxxxv 1 Apoc iv. S Is vi 2 ! Malt. *xvi. 44
FATHER OSWALD. (?
iit> ; and it is not by these good, simple souls thought sufficient
Tor them to hear a dry sermon on Sundays and read a chapter
in ihe Bible. No, no, they know that unless religion is daily
practiced and thought of, it will not sink into the heart and be
to them a support in the distresses of hie, and a solace in their
lighter moments/'
" Well, I cannot but think Catholic service unprofitable," said
Harriet.
" Catholics are the best judges of what is profitable to their
own souls," said the General dryly.
"Humph!" said the Doctor, "but you cannot, I think, so
easily evade, Sir, the fact, that this de/otion of the Rosary mus(
necessarily be idolatrous, because I understand it is all com-
posed of Hail Marys addressed to the Virgin V
" I do not evade the fact, Doctor Davison," said the General,
" bnt I deny it; namely, that the Hail Mary, or any other prayer
addressed by Catholics to the Blessed Virgin, Mother of God" is
idolatrous. She is not an object of idolatry to us. but an object
of the deepest respect and veneration ; neither will 1 insult your
understanding by answering farther to a charge against Catho-
lics, which, I am convinced, you do not seriously believe. You
must keep in mind, that the Rosary is said as much, or I should
say more, in honour of Christ than of Mary : for in every de-
cade we commemorate in spirit and in affection some great
mystery of our redemption ; and nothing can be more grateful
to the truly Christian soul than the pious recollection of what
J ,-sus has done for us, and the part his Holy Mother bore in mosl
OL the mysteries."
" It must be very difficult, I should think," said Harriet, " to
say the woras to the Virgin, and reflect on a mystery at the
same time. I am sure it is more than I could do."
" And yet nothing is more easy," continued the General, " to
excite that reflection, than a momentary pause in the A ve- Maria
after the word, Jesus, with a mental recollection of the mystery
on which we are meditating ; such as, ' Who was made man
for us, who was born for us,' and so on. Indeed, devotion to
our Lady can never be separated from devotion to our Lord, as
long as the relation between mother and son shall subsist."
"Oh! indeed, Harriet indeed, Dr. Davison," exclaimed
Emma, " this devotion of the Rosary is a most sweet, and solid
devotion, full o r neavenly consolations. I thank God for the
day on which I hist learnt it."
" I am glad, mv dear Madam, at whatever gives you conso-
lation," said the Doctor, bowing; " but you must excuse rne, if
f still think counting one's prayers by beads is a vT' 'bolish
and childish practice, as well as a great innovation '
fi8' FATHER OSWALD.
"Oh! there, Doctor, you mistake, or you are misinformed,' 1
said Mrs. Set'ton, " for I have read in a book that my uncle lent
me, that it was the custom amongst the very first Saints in the
earliestages, to count their prayers and ejaculations by little round
jiebbl.es or stones used for that purpose ; now, I think it is a great
improvement, if, since the time of St. Dominic, these little peb-
bles, or beads, or stones, have been perforated and hung on a string.
You are very fond of improvements, Sir, in sciences, and even
in angling; -now why should we object to improvements in the
way of counting our prayers 1 The holy solitaries in the first
ages did not move much from their cells ; but we who lead
more active lives, might be losing our little pebbles if they were
loose."
The Doctor smiled. "But I cannot see,'' said he, "what
good there is in people counting their prayers at all."
"Nevertheless, you see the saints, who were more learned in
the ways of salvation than we are, thought otherwise," replied
Emma; "and I am not afraid of imitating thm, especi-
ally as the Church holds them up for our example and venera-
tion."
" Yes, yes, believe me, the Apostles, Martyrs, Confessors,
and Monks knew how to pray quite as well as we do," said the
General. "Now really, Doctor, it seems to me that to number
our prayers, is neither so foolish nor so childish as when yon,
in your convivial meetings, ' Hip, hip, hip,' with three times
three."
"Pooh," said the Doctor, " that is done on a very different
occasion, and is only meant to preserve a certain degree of ordei
and decorum."
"As for the decorum, let that pass," replied the General,:
" but surely a certain degree of order in our devotions canno;
be displeasing to the God of all order, ' who has ordered all
things in measure, and number, and weight.* Besides, if it be
childish to number our prayers, why I like it all the belter for
that; for Jesus has taught us to humble ourselves like little
children, if we would enter into thekinsx!om of heaven : and it
it be foolish, so much the better; for 'the foolish things of the
world hath God chosen, that he may confound the wise.' "t
Mrs. Sefton kissed her beads with renewed affection, ano
placed them in her reticule.
" Pshaw," cried the Doctor, " a great deal of nonsense in
that."
" There you and I differ, my good friend," replied the Gene-
ral ; " but I am aware that some people now-a-days pride them
* Wis. xi. 21 f 1 Cor. i. 27.
FATHER OSWALD. GO
nelves on certain studiua compositions, which they consider
perfect models of prayer. Certainly no one can object to these
Terms on ..he ground of their not being sufficiently clear, as far as
the words themselves go, which are very precise ; or, of their
omissions, for every want that can be conceived is specified ; but
I doubt whether our ancestors would have altogether approved
of them. They did not like long, wordy narrations in address-
ing God, and even considered it an indication ot 1 \e divine
Spirit when nothing nominally was sought in prayer, the rej>e-
tition of ejaculations, or accumulated epithets, such as, 'mi-e-
ricordia mea,' 'refugium meum,' 'liberator meus,' and soon.
is so much the more full of internal delights as it is imperteci
in external expression : for affection has this property, that the
more fervent it is within the heart, the less can it be developed
externally by the voice. Did not St. Francis of Assisium. end
other holy men spend whole nights in repeating only ' Deus
meus, et omnia' V
' To be sure," said Harriet hesitatingly, " the Lord's Prryer
rontains much more than is expressed; and the sick that were
healed by Jesus as related in the gospel, expressed themselves
in very short and simple sentences."
" Yes, and often repeated them, too," said the General
<: Witness the blind man of Jericho, who could not be made to
hold his peace, but kept ri'p.'afinn and crying out, ' Jesus, Son
of David, have mercy on me.' But Emma, my dear," continued
he. observing his niece somewhat exhausted, "we will not talk
more now, but leave you to go quietly to bed ; I fear we have
kept you up a little too long."
Dr. Davison kindly wished Mrs. Sefton good-night, but
added, "that he thought she would find it very difficult to ex-
plain away the absurdity of many of the devotions used by the
Catholic Church."
" Doctor, I defy you," said the General with much gravity-
l: I will challenge you to-morrow to name any Catholic devotiot
you please, and I will undertake to cle;;r it of the charge of ab-
surdity : let us see what an old soldier can do, when pitted
against a learned Divine."
" I accept the challenge," said the Doctor stoutly and good-
liumouredly, as he closed the door after him, leaving Mrs. Sef-
on to her accustomed orisons and repose.
"Good night, Miss Harriet," said the General, smiling "anJ
don't fear the hooting of the owl : you see the trouble has lallen
on the Doctor this evening, at least."
70 FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XI.
" The literal sense is hard to flosh and blood ;
Uut nonsense never could be understood." DRYBEN
DOCTOR Davison reflected much during the following morn-
ing, what point against the Catholic religion it would be advi-
sable to bring forward in his evening conference with the Gene-
ral : he thought of picture-worship, images of the Cross, and
especially of the Saints of churches; but he had a sort of vague
idea in his mind, that these charges against Catholics, as far as
the accusation of idolatry went, were not altogether true, and if
he brought them forward he feared the General's sarcasm and
ridicule. No, said he to himself, I will goon more solid and
serious ground ; I will boldly attack the idolatry of the Mass.
According!}', he spent most of the morning in the library, fum-
bling over the Protestant divines most likely to refresh his
memory ; he believed all that he had ever rend or heard against
Catholics on this point. ?ml had no doubt but that he should
make an impression on Mrs. Sefton at least, if he should even
Tail with the General. ''Yes, 1 ' exclaimed he triumphantly to
Harriet, rubbing his hands with exultation, as they returned
from their walk before dinner, " you shall see what a drubbing
>I will give that old Gener.-;! this evening."
" Don't be too sure of that," observed Flarriet ; " he is not at
ail so easily dealt with."
" But my attack to-night shall be so well managed," persisted
;the Doctor, " that he must beat a retreat."
" I see something that is in your favour," said Harriet, " or I
'mistake much."
" What do you mean 1 I don't understand."
"Why, Doctor, do but look at that fallow field to the right."
"Well, I seethe field, and two chattering magpies; that is
a!.."
" And plenty too, I think," said Harriet; "don't you know
what this signifies V
"Not I ; they are picking out the grubs, I suppose, as I hope
wo pick out the General's superstitions."
" No, no ; no such thing: the old proverb gives speaking cf
s, that is, magpies the following rule :
" One of sorrow,
Two of mirth,
Three a wedding.
And four a birth "
FATHER OSWJI.I). 7l
"Pshaw! pshaw! tush! tush! nonsense, Miss Harriet ! how
can you believe such idle sayings'!"
" I do believe them, though," continued Harriet, as she slowly
ascended the stairs to arrange her dress for dinner, " for I have
often and often seen them come true."
In the evening the Doctor was the last to join the little circle
round Emma's fireside; as he approached with a serious and
mysterious face, the General flourished his snuff-box in ths
air, exclaiming, as he offered his antagonist a pinch, "You
have made the ladies wait, Reverend Sir, you have made them
wait."
' The seriousness of the subject I am going to bring forward,
must claim your indulgence, ladies, for this delay," answered
the Doctor, bowing with much solemnity.
" Well," said Emma, smiling, "no excuse is necessary. I
understand from Harriet, that you have been very busy all day,
brushing up your arms for the combat."
" Yes, Ma'am, I have been in the library most of the morn-
ing, notwithstanding there is a brace of woodcocks in the copse,
about the cress spring, which was very tempting. You shall
soon see, however, the success of my more serious morning's
work."
" Don't sound the trumpet before you have gained the victory,
Sir," said the General ; " but let us hear the accusation against
tis this evening."
" Well, then, the accusation I bring against Catholics is, that
they worship the veriest unworthy trifle ever made by men's
hands, and set up as God, a thing which is childish idolatry;
namely, the Mass; the silly and profane invention of a corrupl
Church, which has no meaning, a bloodless 'sacrifice being
useless, since blood alone can wash away sin."
" My dear Sir," said the General, when the Doctor had
paused, " there seems to be asirange jumble in your accusation :
in the first place, the sacrifice of the Mass follows from a right
notion of the real presence ; in the second place, it is not a
bloarllcsx sacrifice, but an unbloody sacrifice. In the sacrifice
of the Mass, there is the real blood of Christ, which is surely
enough to wash away the sins of the whole world, shed in a
mystical and unbloody manner, not in the bloody manner in
which it was once shed upon the Cross."
" Really, Sir," said the Doctor. " I cannot comprehend your
mystery, unbloody and blooclezs ; where is the dilierence V
"Much the sr.me," replied the General, "us that between the
living soldier and one shut through the heart."
" Humpn !" growled the Doctor ; I do not see the comparison r
755 FATHER OSWALD.
"Perhaps not; but I will try to explain myself. You re-
member that St. Paul, speaking of the Eucharist, says, that ' as
oi'ten as you shall eat this bread, and drink the chalice, you
shall show the death of the Lord ;'* now, in the sacrifice of the
Mass, we do this in a most wonderful manner, by the separate
consecration of his body and bliod, under two distinct species;
for by virtue of the words of consecration, the substance of the
bread is changed into his body, and the substance of the wine
into his blood; but as ' Christ, now dies no more,' the body and
blood are not really separated ; for where the body is, there
' also is the blood, not by the change of bread into the blood, but
by concomitancy : so the bread is not changed into the soul and
divinity of Christ, but wherever his body is, it is necessarily
accompanied by his blood, soul, and divinity. So, when the
wine is changed into his blood, his body, soul, and divinily are
also present; now, by this mystical separation of the body anu
Wood, the death of the Lord, which consisted in the real separa-
tion of the two, is represented to us in a most lively and almost
visible manner. The essence of the Christian sacrifice consists
in thjs mystical separation."
The Doctor looked puzzled. You presuppose, Sir, that I be-
Uev. in what you call the real presence ; now. I do not believe
in any such thing ; nay, in the very text which you have quoted,
does riot the Apostle Paul say, that we eat the bread and drink
the cup?"
" INo doubt he does," replied the General ; "but if you read
the next verse, you may make a shrewd guess at his meaning :
1 whosoever shall eat this bread or drink the chalice of the Lord
unworthily, shall be guilty of the body and blood of the Lord.'
Now, you must tell me, how eating bread and drinking wine in
any unworthy manner, can make a man guilty of sacrilege so
heinous V
' Why, to be sure," said the Doctor; "it is the profanation
of a most holy rite and ordinance."
"Suppose," said the General, "a man were to profane the
Word of God, baptism, or any other divine ordinance, would he
thereby become guilty of the body and blood of the Lord V
"Pooh!" said the Doctor; "that is nothing to the purpose
I asserted that /did not believe in the real presence, and, what
is more, 1 believe the Church of Rome, when obliged to explain
herself, believes no more in a real and literal presence thau
Protestants do."
" Oh, Doctor! what an assertion," said Mrs. Sefton w/.th evi-
dent surprise.
* 1 Cor. xi.20.
FATHER OSWALD. 73
At this momem' Mrs. Ashton entered the room, and told her
mistress that Father Oswald had just called. " Let him come
iu, Ashton," replied Mrs. Sei'ton ; "it always does me good,"
added she. ' to see that truly apostolic man. 1 '
" I think I had better retire," said the Doctor hastily, looking
rather confused ; " perhaps I intrude. 1 '
"No, Sir, by no means," answered Emma earnestly; "you
<io not intrude, I assure you."
Father Oswald entered, and explained that he had a sick call
at some distance, and it being late, and a very stormy night, he
had ventured to call and ask hospitality at the Flail. Hospi-
tality was warmly and joyfully offered, and the good missioner
was soon seated by the blazing fire. Alter the preliminary
compliments had passed, the General bluntly told him their
evening's occupation, and that Doctor Davison had just ex-
tremely surprised them, by asserting that Catholics do not be-
lieve in the real presence.
" Indeed!" said Father Oswald, with something of an arch
smile; " there is novelty in that assertion; perhaps the Doctor
would be kind enough to tell us what he believes, or rather what
he disbelieves on this subject."
" I believe," said the Doctor solemn!}', " with all Protestants
the spiritual presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Now, the
Romish Church turns an object of sense into an object of faith,
When Christ distributed the broken symbol, his body had not
then been broken ; he could, therefore, only have spoken in a
figurative sense, as he elsewhere designates, ' the Lamb slain
from the foundations of the world.' "
" A spiritual presence is a real absence, my dear Sir," an
swered Father Oswald, " and you wrong Catholics by asserting
that their belief is any thing like what you have just expressed."
" What, then, is your belief, Sir V
" Catholics hold," answered Father Oswald, with much seri-
ousness in his manner, "that Jesus Christ is really, truly, and
substantially present under the exterior appearance of bread and
wine ; and no dogma of the Christian religion is so clearly and
distinctly revealed in the New Testament as this. This is the
object of our faith, and a sublime mystery of faith it is. What
vou mean by changing an object of sense into an object of tailli,
I know not. When the disciples saw Jesus on the earth, they
certainly had an object of sense before their eyes; but they
believed that what they saw was the eternal Son of God made-
man ; this was the object of their faith. Can you tell me what
you mean by a broken symbol '!"
"Why," said the Doctor, " a symbol, I understand to be, a
representation of one thing by another."
74 FATI1EK OSWAI-D.
"But," observed the General, I: it is not a Scriptural phrase,
nor is there the slightest indication of a symbol or figure in ihe
Scripture when speaking of the Eucharist, and therefore we
may give it to the winds."
"Certainly," continued Father Oswald, "Christ broke the
bread ; before consecration, it was not yet changed into his body.
In the English Protestant version of St. Paul's account, we read
' This is my body, which is broken for you,' and so it stands in
some Greek editions. This reading is preferred by the Protes-
tant translators, because they imagine they can build an argu-
ment upon it against, the Catholic doctrine of the real presence.
Thus they say, when Christ spoke the words, his body was not
yet broken ; therefore, that which He gave them to eat, was not
his real body."
" To be sure, Sir, to be sure !" exclaimed the Doctor trium-
phantly; "there you have got yourself into a dilemma, from
which you can not so easily extricate yourself."
"I don't know that, Doctor," said Father Oswald, smiling
good-humouredl}'. " In the first place, I answer, that this con-
clusion is in (iirect contradiction to the express assertion of
Christ, who says, ' This is my body.' and therefore I cannot
admit it. In the next place, although many editions have ' brokr.nl
others have ' bruised,' and the most recent and correct editions
have 'given? as it stands in St. Luke : so that we must look for
some authority superior to that of editors, in order to ascertain
the true reading. Again, admitting the word broken, I ask, what
does it signify ! Christ's body was not properly broken ; and
surely the bread was neither broken nor bruised, nor given for ?<s.
The Lamb was slain from the beginning of the world, not in
reality, but in the foreknowledge of God ; and in view of the
future sacrifice of the Larnb, God conferred all his graces on
the saints of the old la\v."
" Very true, Sir," said Harriet; " \Jiat does it signify, as you
observe, whether the word be broken, cr not 1 there is, I am siire,
much ado about nothing. I, for my part, think good duecn
Bess's opinion was the safest and easiest :
' Christ took the lircntl and hrako it ;
And what, his Word did make it,
That I believe, and take it.' "
"Scund Christian doctrine," said the Doctor; "and if ai'
men would quietly adopt it, there would be an end of all disputes,
and we might live in. peace and brotherly love."
"Sound Christian doctrine," echoed the General, "if w*
could only understand it. But how can I believe, whilst I know
lot, ' what his Word did mai^e it V "
F4THF.R OSW/tLD. 75
1 1 see no need of bothering our heads about it," replied
Harriet. " It is enough to think it must be what Christ intend-
ed it should be ; and be intended no doubt, to leave us in this
holy ordinance a symbol ot' his body and blood."
Very right," echo3d the General, " it must be what Chris?
intended it to be, and he intended to leave us his real body and
blood, it' there be any meaning in his divine words."
" Oh ! :> said Harriet, " I do not think the Scripture is so clear,
or men would not differ so much about its meaning."
"Your S'linf' Luther did not think, it seems, however, as you
t!o," said Emma, laughing. "He tried all in his power to rid
himself of his faith in the real presence, as he himself tells us,
but could not; and then says, as well as I can remember, 'the
text of the Gospel is so clear, as not to be susceptible of miscon-
struction.' "
' You remember the sentence quite rightly, my dear, and
nave quoted it correctly/' said the General ; " you may also tell
Mi.-s .Sefton, and the Doctor too, that Archbisnop Cranmer owns,
1 that Christ may be in the bread and wine, as also in the doors
that were shut.' John Fox says, ' Christ abiding in heaven is
no let but he may be in the sacrament also;' and then, again,
Melancthon : ' I had rather,' says he, ' die than affirm thai
Christ's body can be but in one place.' "
li Well. Sir. and suppose the difference of opinion which you
state to exist between the doctrines of some of the first reformers
and those of the present day, does actually exist, it is quite con-
sistent; considering we have the Bible, which strikes one person
in one way, and another in another."
"But," said Emma, "truth can be but one: God, who i
'.ruth, cannot reveal contradictory doctrines on the same point,
txnd this a point, too, on which our eternal salvation depends. Is
it not written, 'He that eateth and drinketh unworthily, eateth
,md drinketh damnation to himself, not discerning the body of
the Lord V namely, in the true sense which he intended, under
(he dreadful penalty of eternal damnation. There must be no
tricing on this important point."
"God forbid," said the Doctor seriously, " we should ever
trifle en this, or any other Scriptural doctrine."
' Well, then," subjoined Father Oswald, with a good-natured
smile, ' if you are so disposed, I do not care if once in ray life
I join ' a tea and Bible' party."
Harriet took the hint, and in a few minutes the hissing urn
was on the table, and the grateful odour of the refreshing bev-
erage soon filled the room. While sipping the tea, Father Os-
wald proposed to discuss the sixth chapter of St. John. Dr.
76 FATHER OSWALD.
Davison did not relish the proposition so much as he did his cap
of tea; and, somehow or other, even that seemed to have lost
much of its wonted flavour. He felt himself in an awkwaid
predicament, and sought to avoid the contest, if he could do it
with honour to himself. Asking Harriet lor a second cup. lie
turned to Father Oswald, and said
" I think, Sir, this subjec* too serious and too abstruse tc be
discussed before this company."
" I am no friend," said Father Oswald, " to such Biblical dis-
cassions as I am told are often exhibited over the tea-table. I
have a different way of teaching religious truths."
" Well, then," said the Doctor, " suppose we drop the sub-
ject '-''
" With all my heart," replied the Father.
"No. no, Doctor," exclaimed the Genera), who had overheard
the conversation ; " you have chosen the subject and the ground ;
I cannot allow you to sculk from your post, and suspiciously
seek safety in flight at the first appearance of danger. Come,
on the faith of an old soldier, you shall have fair play."
The Doctor saw that the. retreat was now impossible, and.
mustering courage from the readiness which Father Oswald haci
shown to retire from the contest, he opened a large Bible, which
he had deposited on the table when he entered the room, and
began with all solemnity to read the sixth chapter of St. John.
The first part of the chapter afforded little subject of discussion,
though frequently interrupted by their reciprocal observations.
Father Oswald observed, that the miracle of the five barley
loaves was in many points, an admirable illustration of the Holy
Eucharist ; the Doctor could see no connection between the two.
Father Oswald observed, that Christ's walking on the waters
was a clear demonstration, that His body when He pleased
could ue exempted from the universal laws of nature. But the
contest became more animated at the twenty-seventh verse,
when Father Oswald observed, that Christ promised to give
food superior to the barley loaves meat which endureth unio
life everlasting. He propounds the means to obtain it, faith in
liis divinity, which the Jews had not. He promises to give
bread from Heaven, superior to the manna. He declares thai
he himself is the bread of life the living bread which giveth
life to the world. The Doctor fought a good fight, stoutly main-
taining that nothing more was meant than faith in Christ, and
soouted the distinction which the Fathe made between the pro-
mised bread and the condition required in those who were to
receive it. But the heat of war began at the fifty-second verse
Father Oswald nhse.rvwl. that hitherto Christ had used the word
FATHER OSWALD /
bread in a figurative sense, as the Doctor admitted, but that now
he explains me hgure, "The bread which I will give ismy
flesh." The Doctor twisted the expression into a hundred shapes,
to make it signify, The bread which I will give is a si/mbol of
my flesh. " Nothing is easier,' 1 replied the Father dryly. " than
to make the Scripture say any thing, by introducing one or two
extraneous words."
" Fight fair," exclaimed the Genera'. " Let us have Scrip-
lure, without note or comment."
The Doctor, finding himself sore'.y pressed, changed his sen-
liment, and thought the meaning might be, The bread which I
will give isfai/h in rnv flesh ; that is, in rny incarnation.
" Bravo !" said the General ; " then i> was i'aith in the incar-
nation, and not his real flesh, which he gave for the life of the
world; and this faith we must adt with our mouths, just as the
Israelites eat ihe manna."
" Read on, good Sir," said Father Oswald gently ; " we
shall then see how the Jews to whom Jesus spoke, understood
him."
The Doctor read, " How can this man give us his flesh to
eat V'
" Ha !" exclaimed Harriet, " how often have I heard the same
question asked !"
" Yes, yes," said the General ; " there were good Protestants,
you see, even amongst the Jews."
Harriet laughed, nor could Mrs Sefton suppress a smile : the
Doctor was piqued, and observed
" It cannot be denied, that the Jews understood Christ's words
in their literal sense ; but what wonder 1 they were a wilful,
carnal, sottish race."
" No doubt," subjoined Father Oswald: "but our merciful
Redeemer will correct their error ; if not for their sake, for the
sake, of millions of faithful believers, who he foresaw, would
take his words in their plain, obvious, literal sense. Pray read
on."
"Amen, amen, I say unto you, Except you eat Ihcfljshot
Iht Son of Man and drink his blood, you shall not have life in
you."
" Now, mark," said Father Oswald, "the solemn asserva-
tions ' amen, amen,' with which our Saviour expresses the impor-
tance and truth of what he is about to say. So far from modi-
fying his former words, he reasserts them in the strongest terms.
To the eating of his flesh, he now adds the drinking of his
blood, which, far from diminishing the objection ot the Jews,
must have shocked them still more, from their being prohibited
;8 FATHER OSWALD.
by their law even to taste the blood of animals, muc!i morn
human blood."
The Doctor remained silent for some time, as if recollecting
and arranging in his mind the various and discordant comments
vhich he had read on this celebrated passage; his ideas rose
in such a medley an ay, that his confusion remained only wors
confounded: at length he spoke, with much hesitation and
frequent interruption, and occasional contradiction, as one or
other system of figurative interpretation occurred in his mind.
"To eat and to chink signified simply to believe, and he won-
dered much that the Jews could not so understand the words
after the preceding part of Christ : sdiscourse. Again, reflecting
that Christ afterwards said, ' My flesii is meat indeed, and my
blood is drink indeed/ he thought that to eat and drin'.; might
be taken in the literal sense, and that flesh and blood must be
taken in a figurative sense, and could signify nothing more that
bread and wine, the symbols of his flesh and blood."
"Perhaps, Doctor/' said Father Oswald, "you would do
better to read the lour following verses, end consider them all
together; for then we shall see, that, five several times. JCSUM
confirmed the literal meaning of that sentence which gave sc
much offence to the disbelieving Jews; and each assertion i*
more expressive and significant than ihc preceding."
The Doctor began to hem, and his confusion and irritation
increased so much, that he in vain attempted to proceed.
" Come," said the General. " I promised you fair play, and /
must relieve you. I will do justice to your cause."
The General then, assuming a most serious and sanctimo-
nious, but dogmatic tone, began to read thus: "Verily, verily,
I say unto you, you quite mistake my meaning: I would only
say, Except you eat br/.ad, no', my flesh, find drink v-i/i.>',not, my
blood, you shall not have life in you. He that eateth hn '</.:, mil
my flesh, and drinketh wine, not, my blood, hath everlasting life.
and 1 will raise him up on the last day. For bread, ?// my
fle^h, is meat indeed, and wine, 'not my blood, is drink indeed '
The Doctor could contain himself no longer, and launched
out on the impious profanation of God's Holy Word.
"Truly," said Father Oswald, " the saciilegious impiety is
too obvious; but I conceive the General, in his humour, has
only given your own interpretation."
" Precisely so," replied the General ; "for half a dozen nafs
and a i'ew words interpolated have made the Protestant sense
evident to the dullest capacity."
The Doctor dialed with ire, and his eyes sparkled with in-
dignation, " It is really too bad," said he ; " the ' ery words ol
Scripture itself profaned."
FATHER OSWALD. 7U
" A truce, good Doctor," said the General ; " promise me
never more to speak of brea.'/. or wine, or symbol, or figure, or
faith, of which there is not one word in the passage, and 1 will
promise to unsay all that has given you offence."
" A trucp, a truce," muttered the Doctor, trying to suppress
his impatience. " Still, I think I am authorized to put a spirit-
ual meaning on the text."
" Put \yha; spiritual meaning you please on the text, and then
you will authorize me to introduce my negatives, to contradict
die literal sen.se."
" But," said the Doctor, addressing Father Oswald, " does
not Christ himself sanction a spiritual meaning when he says,
* It is the spirit which quickeneth ; the flesh profiteth nothing;
the words that I speak unto you, ttey are spirit and they are
life 1 T'
" I remark," said Father Oswald, "the emphasis which you
Say on the two pronouns they ; you are aware. I presume, that
they are superfluous, and not found in the original Greek 7"
" Yes, yes," said the General, " they are loisted in, to the
detriment of the Queen's English, and for cheating and puzzling
the intellects of her liege subjects."
" Humph !" said the Doctor, " that is no answer to my argu-
ment."
" Now," said Father Oswald, " allow me to propose a ques-
tion. Is Jesus Christ speaking of his own flesh, or ot flesh in
general 7"
The Doctor was not prepared for such a question ; after
some hesitation he replied, " Of his own flesh:" tor he saw, if
he answered of flesh in general, then there was an end of his
argument, and because Jesus Ciiiist had said all along, mijjlcf.li,
my blon I.
"" Be it so," said the Father ; " then the quickening spirit will
be his soul. The sense is now clear ; dead flesh separated from
the quickening spirit, divided, mangled, and consumed in the
gross manner which you have imagined, would indeed profit
you nothing ; not so my living flesh, quickened by my soul, and
united to the divinity. The words that I have spoken to you
imply ' spirit and lii'e.' I have spoken to you of the living and
life-giving brent , I have said, ' That he who eateth me, shall
live "by me as I live by the Father.' "
" Plausible enough," grumbled the Doctor, fanning himself
with his pocket-handkerchief, to relieve the heat he had worked
himself into "very plausible to the weak and unlearned ; but
believe me, ladies, there is much Jesuitical sophistry in all this.
To-morrow another day gracious me, how hot it is ! I am
80 FATHER OSWALD.
sure, Mrs. Sefton, you must find this room too close and op
press! ve ; don't you find it very hot, Miss Harriet V
" Not particularly so," said Harriet, suppressing a titter,
" particularly on this cold December night."
" Allow me," continued Father Oswald, " to make one more
observation, and I have done. Those disciples who had found
the words of Jesus a hard saying, saw nothing in this supposed
explanation to soften the doctrine, and therefore abandoned their
master and ' walked no more with him.' "
" Mark that, Doctor," said the General ; " sound Protestants
even amongst the disciples of Jesus ! faith, I shall begin to think
there is more Scripture for Protestantism than I had imagined."
" Humph hern stuff sophistry/' said the Doctor in con-
siderable agitation.
Harriet could resist no longer, and laughed most heartily ; as
soon as she had a little regained her composure, she said, " f
told you, Doctor, that the two magpies foretold us mirth."
" A plague on the magpies, and the mirth too," muttered the
Doctor ; " how can you talk such nonsense, Miss Harriet V
Harriet laughed again, more pleased at the confusion of the
Doctor, than at her own skill in augury.
" Nevertheless," said the Doctor, rallying, and speaking in
rather a high and angry lone, ' I do maintain, that the doctrine
which Catholics hold the bodily presence is an extension ot
the Incarnation, and that their belief of actually receiving God
into their mouths is an absurd and profane doctrine."
" Prove the absurdity, and we will try to give you an answer,"
said the General; "but will you tell me, Doctor, if you object
to believe that the incarnation of Jesus Christ was wrought by
supernatural means'? namely, that He was the Son of God, and
not of St. Joseph 1"
" Of course, General, I believe His incarnation to have been
the work of the Holy Ghost, and that the order of nature was
not followed in it ; how can you doubt it 1"
" Then," replied the General, " if you believe that in the
mystery of the incarnation and birth of our Saviour, the Almighty
could and did suspend the ordinary course of nature, why do
you object to believe that He may, if He pleases, do the same
thing with regard to the mystery of the Blessed Eucharist'!
If you acknowledge the mystery in one case, I cannot conceive
what can be your objection to acknowledge the mystery in the
other."
"Because," said Dr. Davison, after a pause, "I think that
olasphemous and profane consequences follow the doctrine of the
real presence : namely, that the bodv of our Saviour is iu a
FATHER OSWALD. HI
state of constant corruption, in consequence of our deaths, alter
naving partaken of it."
"The Catholic Church teaches no such blasphemy, Sir," said
Father Oswald warmly ; "you speak of the glorified and im mor-
tal b<xly of the Lord Jesus Christ as if it were subject lo the
same laws as our frail, miserable, corruptible frames; you should
know, that, amongst other privileges of a glorified body, one is
impassibility."
" I know that, Sir, as well as you do," said the Doctor; " but
when our Lord says, ' it is the spirit that quickeneth,' he means,
that what he taught both of the Incarnation and Eucliaiist, he
caught and meant in a figurative and spiritual sense."
" What! was Christ incarnate only in a spiritual sense, and
tot in reality 1" said Mrs. Sefton, in evident amazement ; " I
<hought you told us, only a minute ago, that you believed in the
Incarnation ; now, if Christ's body was spiritwil, and not real,
when it was horn, I should think one could not call it an incar-
nation at all."
" Pooh ! pooh! my dear Madam, what can you ladies know
about such high matters as these '!" said the Doctor ; " you should
jubmit to he taught."
" You say very rightly, Doctor Davison, said Emma with
spirit ; " wh:,t oan we poor laical sinners know about the mys-
teries of God ! and for that very reason I have submitted my
judgment in all matters of faith to that Church which has re-
ceived authority to teach ; but, nevertheless, the Catholic Church
lakes good care to instruct her children on all points that are
necessary to salvation, as far as the subjecl can be explained;
therefore, I do understand what it is necessary I should under-
stand on the mysteries of the Incarnation and blessed Eucharist.
St. Peter, you know, says, we ought to be ' able to give a reason
for the hope that is in us."
" There's a rap over the knuckles for you, my worthy Doc-
tor," said the General, stirring the fire.
The Doctor looked very angrv.
"God forbid, my dear Sir, that we should say the flesh of
Christ profits nothing," said Father Oswald earnestly; "that
w.Mi'.d, indeed, be a blasphemy."
' Well," said Harriet, " I had no idea till this evening, that
Catholics could give so rational an account of the Mass, be-
cause I a.ways thought, and I was always taught to think, that
it was contrary to the Scripture and to reason ; but if we be-
lieve in the real presence, which we may do if we choose, the
apparent absurdity immediately vanishes."
" The Mass is neither contrary to reason nor the Scripture
82 FATHER OSWALD.
my dear Miss Sefton," said Father Oswald, " the Holy Sacrifice
of the Mass is the greatest act of religion that can be performed ;
indeed, the only one perfectly worthy of God ; therefore, it is
most reasonable we should offer it to him: it is not contrary to
Scripture, but expressly enjoined therein by Christ himself, 'Do
this in commemoration of me.' "
" There I have you," said the Doctor hastily, " there I will
nail you to your own admission We here see in the 'vords of
the institution, that Christ establishes a perpetual mci.i./rial oi
Himself, " Do this in rumcmbrunce of me.' "
" Let us not jump too rapidly to conclusions,' said thr, Fa'her
gently : " let us first settle the previous question : Chnst says,
Do this." What are we to do? that is the question. 1 '
"We must do what Christ did," replied the Doctor; "we
must take bread and wine, and bless, and break, and eat and
drink in remembrance of Him ; nothing can he clearer."
' No doubt we must do what Christ did," continued Father
Oswald, " but the question again recurs, what, did Christ do 1 ?
Did he give to his disciples bread and wine simply, or did he
give them, as his words import, His body and His blood?
When this previous question is settled, we shall readily agr^e
why we are to do it."
" That is a sophistical distinction," said the Doctor.
" No sophistry at all," interposed the General, " but a plain
straightforward question ; too difficult, I perceive, for a straight-
forward answer. But as you asserted in the beginning of
our conversation, that the Mass is a silly and profane invention
of a corrupt Church, I have a right to demand an answer to
another question. When, where, and by whom was this inven-
tion made V
" In the dark ages, to be sure," said the Doctor boldly,-
" those ages of ignorance and superstition ; there is no need of
fixing the precise date, place, or person ; it came in gradually;
it was unknown in the early ages."
"A blessing on the dark ages!" ejaculated the General, " they
el ways afford a safe retreat to a worsted foe. But the dark ages
<vill not profit you in this case ; for we have the testimony of the
Fathers, that Mass was celebrated in the earliest and brightest
days of Christianity ; and we still possess the liturgies which
they used. Nay, we have historical evidence that the Apostles
themselves celebrated Mass. I have seen myself in Rome thr
altar on which St. Peter offered the Holy Sacrifice ; it is pre-
served in the church of St. Prudentiana. The words of St
Andrew the Apostle, when jEgeas the judge exhorted him to
sacrifice to idols are very remarkable : '1 every day,' says he,
FATHER OSWALD. S3
'sacrifice to the Almighty, the only one and true God ; not the
flesh of oxen or the blood of goats, but the immaculate Lamb,
upon the altar, whose flesh is given to the faithful to eat; the
Lamb thus sacrificed remains whole and alive "
" Those are indeed remarkable words," said Harriet thought-
fully. " If persons once bring themselves to believe implicitly
what the Church teaches them, and nothing more nor less, they
must be very happy ; it must save them a world of trouble."
" Miss Harriet, Miss Harriet, beware how you express such
a sentiment as that," exclaimed Doctor Davison, glad to turn
the discourse from the subject in dispute : " how can a rational
being answer for his soul at the last day, it he has given guidance
of it to a fellow-sinner, without having employed his mind to
know the will of God in that revelation which he has given to
man V
"Now, I venture to answer Miss Sefton," said Father Os-
wald. " though it is foreign to the point we had in hand, that
the Catholic acts very rationally and very securely in giving the
guidance of his soul to those who have received authority from
God to guide him: consequently, he very much promotes his
own happiness ; ' He hears the Church ;' he hears the ministers
of the Church, as Christ has commanded him to hear them, and
as he would hear Christ himself, and on this score he is under
no apprehension of not being able to render a good account at
the last day."
" Yes, yes," exclaimed the General, rubbing his hands, " we
must leave the Biblical to settle his own account as well as he
may ; but I fear if ' he heareth not the Church,' his lot will be
likely to be with ' the heathen and the publican.' ' If he de-
spiseth the ministers of the Church, he despiseth Christ him-
self; and he that despiseth Christ, despiseth the Father who
sent Him.' "
" But for what reason has God, then, given us understanding
if we must not employ it in knowing the will of God on religion,
the most important of all concerns 1" expostulated the Doctor.
" The Catholic does employ his reason to know the will of
God, and the true sense of His revelation ; only he goes a dif-
ferent way about it," said Father Oswald ; "" he takes the
straightforward path, pointed out to him by Christ, such as it
was foretold by the prophet: 'And a path, and a way shall-be
there, and it shall be called the holy way : the unclean shall not
pass over it ; and it shall be to you a straight icay, so that the
ibol shall not err therein.' "*
"But how can you make this applicable," said the Porter
* Is. ixxv. 8.
84 FATHER OSWALD.
earnestly, "to those who rule themselves by the pure Word of
God expressed in the Scriptures 1"
'' Because," answered Father Oswald, " daily experience too
clearly proves that Bible readers have widely deviated 1'rotnthis
' straight and holy way,' each one running his own tortuous ca-
reer, and crying out with all his might, ' Here is Christ," and
'There is Christ.' The Catholic pities their blindness, and
jogs on his straight way, nor turns to the right nor to the left. '
" Well," said the Doctor with great pomposity, " I do t-eri-
ously think that Catholics will not be saved, if. being acquainted
with the Bible, they still continue to be guided by the Church in
what is contrary to the precepts of the Bible !"
" Oh ! oh ! so we are to go to the regions below because we
will not come into your Pujestant scheme," exclaimed the Gen-
eral, laughing; "it were not very difficult to retort the compli-
ment ; but I shall be content to send you to Bedlam ; I wish and
Eray that your ignorance may plead excuse in another world ;
ut I have a difficulty to propose, to which I expect an answer:
for the affair of salvation is too serious a one to be trifled with."
" Then do, my good General, keep your difficulty till to-mor-
row," interrupted Harriet, " for I am sure we have had quite
seriousness enough for to-night."
" I think so too," said the Doctor, rising, " but I shall be hap-
py to solve your difficulty to-morrow, Sir," continued he, cast-
ing a side glance at Father Oswald.
The Father rose also, and having given his blessing to Emma,
they all retired to supper, leaving her somewhat exhausted with
the varied emotions excited during the evening.
CHAPTER XII.
' As long as words a different sense will bear,
And each may be his own interpreter,
Our airy faith will no foundation find,
'i'he word 's a weathercock for every wind."
IN tne middle of the night, when Father Oswald was in a
sound sleep, after the fatigues of a well-spent day, he was sud-
denly loused by the drowsy voice of John the footman, inform-
ing him there was a countryman making a great noise at the
back door, who begged him for the love of God to tell the priest
FATHER OSWALD. tUt
'hat the sick person he had visited the day before, was worse,
and -not likely to last many hours.
" I did my best, Sir," added John, "to keep the man quiet till
morning, lor there can be nothing wanted, I'm sure, since you
saw the poor creature but yesterday: such manners ! coining
and rousing good i'olks out of their warm bed such a night as
this, when one would not send a dog to the door ; but there's no
beating manners into such bumpkins as them, and the morel
argued the louder he got, so I e'en leared he would be disturbing
the mistress, poor thing."
By the time John had finished this tirade, Father Oswald was
nearly dressed.
" We must have patience, John, with these poor people, for
they have souls to save as well as we have," said he mildly, as
he took the candle from the shivering lad's hand.
" Souls ! yes, they have souls, no doubt, but they may con-
trive to save them without worrying their neighbours in this
guise," muttered John.
" We must trust, John, that God will reward you for your
charity in helping to get assistance for this poor person, when
you come to be lying on your death-bed," observed Father
Oswald.
" The Lord be merciful to us, Sir," said John, quickening
his pace to keep up with the Father, who was descending the
stairs; ' don't be talking about dying at this uncanny time of
night; I was always timorous ot gaists and hobgoblins."
" A little holy water would be the best remedy for you in this
case, John," said the Father, unable to repress a smile.
" And would it indeed, Sir 1 how can you explain that, now 1"
" I have not time to explain it now," said Father Oswald, as
they reached the door where the countryman was impatiently
waiting lor them. " Good-night, John," continued he, " and
many thanks for your trouble. Keep a clear conscience, and
that is a remedy against all fears," added he, as the footman
closed the doors after him, as soon as he saw that Father Oswald
had recognized the messenger.
The next morning, when breakfast was half over, Dr. Davisou
asked Harriet what had become of the Jesuit, expressing a hope
he was by that time sate at his own house.
" I don't know indeed, Sir," answered Harriet. "1 suppose
he will arrive ere long : or. perhaps, he doss not breakfast at all.
I have heard that Jesuits make great fasts. 1 don't think he can
have gone home, because I heard Emma say she wished to
j>tak to him alter breaki;.st."
' t ^aa tell you where he is." said the General, laying down
b*
86 FATHER OSWALD.
the newspaper; <: he has returned to that sick person at tne
Mills, where he was yesterday ; he will, I hope, be back for
dinner."
" What a deal of useless trouble !" said Harriet ; " I should
have thought one visit was quite enough."
" The poor creature got worse during the night, and sent for
him," said the General.
" In the night,'' exclaimed Harriet. "How extraordinary!
Why, it was an awful night: every time I wakened, I iicard
the snow pelting and the wind howling."
" However, he went in the night, lor all that," said the Gene-
ral quietly, " as was his precise duty. John is my authority,
and I imagine he did not dream it. Miss Harriet, may I beg
another cup of coffee V
"Well," said Doctor Davison, helping himself to another
slice of ham and a buttered muffin,"! cannot conceive what
charm, life can have for any Catholic priest who devotes himsell
to his duty."
" None at all," said the General bluntly ; i: it would be a pity
it should : he might then neglect his duties."
'' It seems the grave is the only place where it is not sinful
for a priest to indulge in rest," said Harriet, compassionately.
"But, Miss Harriet," answered the General, " he hr.s his
consolations of a higher order : ' he seeks the things that are
above, he minds the things that are above, not the things that
are upon ihe earth ; for he is dead, and his li!e is hiii with
Christ in God.' His treasure is in Heaven, and there is his
heart fixed."
The Doctor had ordered his dog and gun to be in readiness
after breakfast, but it snowed so fast that he unwillingly count-
erordered them ; he sauntered into the billiard -room ; but the
General seemed so occupied with a new French publication he
had just received, that he durst not venture to propose a match
at billiards.' He then tried the library, but found it difficult to
fix his attention. Whatever book he opened, the troublesome
thought occurred to his mind, of what might be the nature of
the difficulty with which the General was going to torment him
that evening.. " I wish I was safely out of this house," said he
to himself; "nothing can be more disagreeable to me than this
sort of work; to be sure. I am comfortable enough: good table,
good library, and the societv mighty pleasant, if it were not lor
this plaguy controversy. Well, well, I ;\m doing my duly, and
a stout one it is." So musing, he replaced the book he had
in his hand in the shelves, and dwaddled into the sitting-room,
where he was soon established by Harriet's work-table, reading
FATHER OSWALD. 87
aloud to her the last new novel. The dinner was over before
Father Oswald made his appearance, and when he had eat a
little, and got himself thawed from the nearly frozen state in
which he had entered, Harriet proceeded to ask how he had left
the sick person.
" The sick person, my good Madam," replied he, " is gone to
another and a better world."
" Indeed !" said Harriet, " then that fully accounts for it. i
heard the death-watch all last night close to my bed-head."
"What is the death-watch V said Father Oswald in some
surprise
" Don't you know what the death-watch is 1 ?" retorted Harriet.
" That does surprise me ; well, it is a little tick-tacking noise,
vhich occurs at regular intervals, very slowly, somewhere in
tie room ; it is difficult to find out exactly in which part it is;
j.nd whenever one hears this, it is a certain forewarning that
there is death in the house or neighbourhood/'
" Upon my word, Miss Sefton," said the General, laughing,"
I wonder how a lady of your sense can talk such nonsense !
It was probably your own watch, or your own pulse, or, at the
utmost, a certain little spider which makes that said noise."
Harriet shook her head incredulously. " I know better than
that." said she in a mysterious voice.
" It is superstition, my good lad}', to hold such opinions as
Ihose." said Father Oswald.
" To be sure it is," said the Doctor triumphantly ; " so I havp
often told Miss Harriet."
Harriet smiled, and only said, " Remember the magpies,
Doctor."
In the evening the little party assembled as usual in Emma's
loom, and the General, was not long ere he sounded the signaJ
of war in the Doctor's ear.
"Well, Doctor." said he, "1 mean to come to close quarters
with you this evening, so let us take up our ground fairly in the
beginning."
The Doctor groaned internally, but declared he was ready to
answer the General's difficulty to the best of his poor abilities..
" Well, then." replied the General, " in the first place we are
agreed, that Christ has revealed a code of religious doctrines '.o
be believed by all men, under the pain of eternr.l damnation:
for. when he sent his Apostles to preach the Gospel to every
creature, he added these words, 'He that believeth and is
baptized shall be saved ; but he that believeth not, shall be con-
demned.' ;: *
* Mark xvi. 10
8y FAT1W OSWALD.
"Certainly; I agree to thai/'
"Then," continued the Gen vat, "since 'God our Saviot .
will have all men to be saved, a nc. come to the knowledge a"
the truth.'* It follows that He has provided easy, secure, ano
certain means, by which all men, the Icaintd and the unlearned.
the wise and the ignorant, may know al.' things which God hai
revealed, and which they are bound to bei-e?re."
" Undoubtedly."
" What are these means!"
" The Bible, which contains God's infalliMe Word."
" Is that means easy 1"
" Nothing more easy ; every man can read the Bible, or neai
It read."
"Nothing more easy," continued the General; "but whei-
the unlearned read the Bible, or hear it read, is iteavy lor them
to understand it ?"
" I suppose so," said the Doctor.
"I think not," replied the General. "But is it a secure
means to find out the truth 1"
" What can be more secure than the infallible Word of God 1"
"But what security can a man have in his own opinion, when
he finds his neighbour of a different opinion V
" Humph !" muttered the Doctor. " If they read with sim-
plicity and prayer, they will agree in all essentials."
" I doubt that much," replied the General ; " there can be no
security when there is no certainty. No man can be certain
that his private opinion is true, unless he presumptuously sup-
poses himself gilted with more acumen, more light, and more
knowledge than his neighbour. But let us come a little more
closely to the point. You tell me to search the Scriptures to
read the Bible to judge for myself. Why then, do you come
to dictate to me, and hurl the thunders of God's wrath against
me, if I come to a different conclusion from yours 1"
" Why, my good General, your difficulty vanishes like snow
before the mid-day sun," said the Doctor, seeming much relieved.
" You can never come to the same fair and proper conclusions
that we do, because you Catholics do not read the Bible, and are
not allowed to read it, and "
" I beg your pardon, I beg your pardon, Sir," interrupted the
General ; '" be it known to you, that I have read the Bible and
thumbed it through and through, and the more I search it, the
more am I convinced that the Catholic Church is the only true
Church of Christ, ' without spot or wrinkle,' and that ail her
supposed abuses and abominations are the visionary workings
* 1 Tim. ii. 4.
FATHER OSWALD.
of a disturbed b/am, or the malignant inventions of a JAY rated
heart."
" Hold, hold," cried the Doctor ; " there is much to be said
before you can convince me, or any other sound Bible reader,
that the Catholic is the true Church, and that we do not find
she is full of abominations."
" Well, Sir," said the General, " have a little patience, at
least. What you stale is one of your conclusions; but allow
me to state the result of my Biblical observations quietly, and
then we shall see."
" By all means, by all means, General ; as quietly as you
Jike," said the Doctor ; " I am a great friend to quietness in
discussion."
"Well, then, I was going to state," continued the General.
"that I am fully convinced and I have corne to the conclusion
after the most cool and mature deliberation that out of the
pale of the Catholic Church there is no salvation for my soul ;
and that those ' who separate themselves' from it are ' sensual
men, having not the Spirit,'* who ' revolt and continue not in
the doctrine of Christ,t and, therefore, they have not God.'
Now, this being the case, and my own conviction, grounded, as
it appears to rne, upon the clearest testimonies of Holy Scrip-
ture, am I to renounce it, and embrace your conviction, gr^und-
ed, you honestly believe, upon more solid testimony'? If I re-
nounce my own conviction of the truth, I am damned ; if I do
not renounce it, you are equally convinced I am damntd. This
is truly a sad dilemma; who shall help us out of if? Thank
God! /have a way out of it; but my solicitude is. for you:
you have made your last appeal to Scripture, you have no far-
ther resource."
" Yes, you see, General, we have both studied Scripture, and
7 can answer lor my own intentions being pure, so you need not
l<e uneasy about me, my good friend," said the Doctor.
" But if I am really your good friend," said the General ear-
nestly, " it is very natural I should be 'ineasy about you : for
we have, as you observe, both studied St/ipture with the purest
intention of ' attaining to the knowledge of the truth,' and we
have arrived at conclusions diametrically contradictory on many
most important points of salvation. One of us must be involved
in damnable error. What is now to lie done ? I wait for you:
reply."
The Doctor hesitnted, and then replied rather doggedly, " I
suppose you Catholics would have recourse to the old story ol
Mother Church and her infallibility; but we Protestants think
she fell into error."
* Iiitle 19 t 2 John i
90 FATHER OSWAI.K
" Gently, gently," cried the General ; " that is no answer to
my difficulty. Let us have no more of this random skirmish--
in^; stick to the point; leave m? to take refuge in Mother
Church, if you like; but here is the Presbyterian, the Methodist,
the Baptist, tlie Socinian, one and all read the Bible with the
purest intention, all earnestly pray for light to understand it, ail
seek the ' truth as it is in Jesus -," tell me, now, candidly, do
they all find the truth 1"
" Certainly not."
"Then you must allow, Dr. Davison, that the Bible alone
affords no secure means of finding out the truth."
' Humph !" said the Doctor with a sort of indescribable groan.
" I allow that the authority of the primitive Church may help us
to the right understanding of the Bible."
" If you appeal to the authority of the primitive Church, you
yield the question ; for whatever authority the Church had in
the beginning, she retains to the present day."
"Not so," said the Doctor; "for we can show from the
Bible that the Roman Church has erred and thereby lost her
authority."
"By the same rule," replied the General, "the Dissenters
prove that the Church of England has fallen into damnable
errors; so, you see, we can make no progress with an authority
liable to error."
"Humph ! Hem! I cannot allow the authority of any Church
to he infallible," persisted the Doctor.
"My dear Sir," replied the General with great emotion,
" consider seriously if it be not a false and absurd supposition,
that the Church of Christ, which St. Paul says is ' the pillar
and ground of the truth,'* can possibly guide her children into
what is contrary to the doctrine of the Bible. From a false
supposition the most monstrous consequences may be drawn ;
as an example, if I lay it down as a certain principle, that you
are mad, it would be a logical conclusion, that all your outpour-
ings were the sheer ravings of a distracted mind."
" Of course, any one understanding any thing of logic must
acknowledge," said the Doctor, " that from a false supposition
false consequences must follow ; but still, Sir, though you say
you have read the Bible, yet you cannot interpret it as you wish
or as you please, but mint, according to your own acknowledg-
ment, abide by the decisions of the Church."
"Cer'ainly," answered the General; "and so must every
Christian who can understand the plainest precept in the Bible,
1 He tha? heareth you heareth me, and he that despisoth yon
* 1 Tirn. iii. 15.
FATHER OSWALD. 91
despiselh me;'* again, ' Obey your prelates, and be subject to
ttiem.'t When Christ commanded the Apostles and their suc-
cessors to 'teach all nations,' he exacted obedience to the:: doc-
trine from all men who were to be taught, and he propounded a
sufficient motive for such obedience, when he promised to be
with those teachers ' all days, even unto the consummation of
the world;' so that you see our subjection to the decisions of
ihe teaching Church is both rational and Scriptural. Observe
particularly, I pray you, that Christ has promised to be with
the Church tcac/iiny, but has nowhere promised to be with each
private individual reading his Bible. The Bible is a divine
book, and must have a divine interpreter; but my being obliged
to submit to the decisions of the Church in matters oi faith, does
not in any degree alter what seems to my own convictions and
common sense to be the truth, any more titan it alters the mathe-
matically demonstrative truth, that two sides of a triangle are
always longer than a third, because I am convinced of the same
fact from my own observation and from common sense."
The Doctor hemmed, and after a little hesitation and a pause,
continued: ; 'Tnen, Sir, according to you, the Catholic says,
the interpretation oi' the Word of God must belong to the Church ;
private judgment may. and often do^serr in a matter so difficult.
Why, then, is it said of the Jews of Berea, to whom one of the
Apostles himself preached, 'These were more no!)le than tho*e
of Thessalonica, in that they received the Word with all readi-
ness of mind, and searched Ik? Scriptures daily, whether those
things were so: therefore many of them believed''?: Do not
these words point out the duty of the teacher and of the hearer,
and the result to be expected when both are fulfilled 1"
" But, my dear Sir," said Father Oswald, " in order to under-
stand this passage of the Acts, we must not separate it from the
preceding context; perhaps you would be kind enough to favour
us with that, before we proceed farther'!"
" By all means. Sir," said the Doctor eagerly. " Where are
my spectacles 1 Where is the Bible 1"
" The Bible you left behind you yesterday, Dr.," said Emma,
" is on the table near the window ; but where your spectacles
are, I know not."
" I do though," said Harriet ; " they are in my reticule ; yon
left them on the work-table in the sitting-room." .
"Well, well, give them here," said Dr. Davison, settling
them on his nose, and opening the Bible; when he had found
the 17th chapter of the Acts, he read it in a pompous voico
from the beginning, till he came to the text in question, when
ne paused.
* Luke x 16 t Heb. xiii. 17 t Acts xvii. 1
92 FATHER OSWALD.
" Nov.-, Sir,'* said Father Oswald, " please to observe that
from this it appears, that St. Paul had previously preached to
the Jews a f Tliessalonica, and, appealing to their own Scrip-
tures, proved to them 'that the Christ was to suffer, and rise
again from the dead; and that this is Jesus Christ, whom I
preach to you.' Now, some of the Jews believed on the preach-
ing of St. Paul, without searching the Scriptures, and ab-'o a great
multitude of the Gentiles, who certainly did not search the
Scriptures, which they did not possess. The more fiery zealots
persecute the Apostle and drive him from the city."
" Egad !" ejaculated the General, " those Jews were genuine
Protestants; they chose to read the Bible in their own way,
and preferred their own to St. Paul's interpretation."
"St. Paul next proceeds to Berea," continued Father Oswald,
" and there in the synagogue of the Jews, preac/ics the same-
doctrine. The Bereans gave him a kinder reception, 'ano
receive the Word with all eagerness;' lor this St. Luke says
1 they were more noble than those in Thessalonica ;' and having
received the Word, they very laudably consulted those passage.'
of the Prophets which the Apostles had quoted, and thereby con
finned their faith in the Word received."
" There's for you, Dr. Davison ! What have you to say tc
that V exclaimed the General, rubbing his hands. " It is diffi-
cult, I think, from these premises, to conceive by what magical
logic a Protestant can jump to the conclusion, that therefore
every man, woman, and child must read, search, and expound
the Scripture for himself. Oh ! how I could laud the Protestant
who, without passion and prejudice, would open the Prophets
and the Apostles, and search and study those passages which a
Catholic divine would point out to him, and prove the unity, the
indefectibility, and the infallible authority of the Church of
Christ."
" What a noise you do make, General !" exclaimed the Doc-
tor, putting his hands to his ears, " I'm sure you must quite
distract poor Mrs. Sefton's head."
"Oh! no, Doctor," replied Emma, laughing; "I have not got
the head-ache, thank you 1 besides, I am accustomed to nr/
uncle's ways."
"But, you observe, Sir," said Father Oswald mildly, " that
S. Paul expounded the Scriptures to the Bereans: the Catholic
pastors imitate his example, and expound them to their flock.
St. Paul did not leave it to the Bereans to question his authority
or his exposition, nor would he have lauded them, had they,
exercising the pretended right of private judgment, come to a
different conclusion. No doubt, many did so."
FATHER OSWALD. J3
" Like free-horn Protestants," subjoined (he General. " Egad !
the Scriptures are full of them."
" Tn like manner," continued the Father, "the Catholic pas-
tors (Jo not leave it to the flock to question the same authority
which they have inherited from the Apostles, under the guidance
of the same unerring Spirit. Such of the Bereans as searched
the Scriptures, and received not the word, were not praised by
St. Luke; neither can we praise the Protestants, who search the
Scriptures, and receive not the word of the authorized preacuers.'-
" Bat," said the Doctor boldly, ''the basis of the Roman faith
and its doctrines are utterly unscriptural."
' It is easy, Sir, to make a bold assertion ; but there is ro
need to receive every bold assertion as an, infallible oracle,"
replied Father Oswald ; " a shrewd man. like yourself, Doctor,"
added he, smiling, "may often ask an awkward question; pray,
how do you prove your assertion 1"
" Don't sojihistieate, Sir," said the Doctor in an angry tone ;
" it would be easy enough to prove what I assert."
" But, my good friend," continued the Father, " it is really
not fair to call an argument sophistiy, when you are unable to
answer it; there is no system of religion, except the Catholic,
which, as a whole, and in every part, harmonizes completely
with Holy Scripture. With good reason, we call upon the
Bible readers to harmonize amongst themselves, from the thou-
sand and one discordant sects into which they are divided, one
complete system, in which all could agree. We might then,
form a comparison, and see which most chimed in with Scripture.
As matters stand at present, we cannot believe that the Word ot
God will answer to such jarring notes."
"And what wonder " said Harriet, u if they don't all agree !
The Church is fallible, being only a number of men and women,
gradually overcoming their sinful natures."
"This is really a novel definition of the Church/' replied
Father Oswald, looking at Harriet with surprise, " and would
comprehend many honest Pagans, Mussulmen, and Jews, who,
bv the light of natural reason, know their own Teakness and
pi oneness to sin, and often make efforts to correct their passions.
The question, my dear Miss Sel'ton, is not. of the infallibility ot
individuals, but, whether the whole body of Pastors, under the
guidance of the Holy Ghost, can go astray."
" Well, Sir, I should say, and indeed I feel convinced." said
Harriet, " that it is sufficient, simply to lead a good life, whatever
one may be, either Jew or Mussulman, and in a Christian to
b:li".i-': in Christ, with love to be saved"
The Doctor shook his head, but said nothing: the General
I
94 FATHER OSWALD.
was not su easily satisfied, and exclaimed with great warmth,
" To believe in Christ! Good God ! how Thy sacred word is
' wrested by unlearned and unstable men to their own perdition !'
There is not a man bearing the name of Christian, however
foolish, visionary, or impious his opinions may be, that does not
profess 'to believe in Christ,' and with this vain, vague, unde-
finahle faith, he flatters his self-love, that he is secure of salva-
tion."
" I see no self-love in it," said Harriet, somewhat piqued.
" I hate disputing, but I do sometimes read my Bible quietly of
a Sunday, and I have often remarked that soothing sentence
which is expressed in many forms; 'God so loved the world,
as to give his only begotten Son, that whosoever helieveth in
Him may not perish, but mav have life everlasting.'* And
therefore, as I do believe in Him, I am fully persuaded that I
may sit myself down, without further bother, in perfect security."
" But. Harriet, did you never ask yourself the question, what
is il ' to believe in Christ V " said Emma, earnestly.
" Not I, dear Emma," said Harriet, clasping her hands on
her lap, and twirling her thumbs. " I never ask myself trouble-
some questions."
" It's a very necessary question though," said Father Oswald
seriously, " however troublesome it may seem to yui."
" Can you answer it then, SirT' said Harriet with a yawn.
"I think I can," replied Father Oswald: "to believe in
Christ, in the first place, is to believe that he is the eternal and
only begotten Son of the Father, sent into this world and made
man for the instruction and salvation of mankind ; and, in the
next place, to believe in the whole of his doctrine: for he who
denies one iota of it, questions the veracity of Christ, and thereby
denies his divinity."
" Well, however, we all believe that," interposed the Doctor.
"However, you, my good Sir, cannot be ignorant," said
Father Oswald, " that there are some who call themselves
Christians, and many even of the dignitaries of your own Church,
who, though diligent Bible readers, yet deny the divinty of the
Redeemer."
" Then, Mr. Oswald, thev do not deserve the name of Chris-
tians; they subvert the foundations of all faith," exclaimed the
Doctor indignantly.
" No doubt they do," replied Father Oswald ; " for 'they deny
the Lord who bought them, bringing upon themselves swift de-
struction.'^ But there are other ' lying teachers who bring in
sects of perdition ;' such teachers cannot, I presume, be said to
* John iii. IS t 2 Peter ii. 1
FATHER OSWALD. 95
bdi-:ve in Christ unto salvation, whatever their pretensions may
be."
" Certainly not," replied the Docior ; " but I hope ihe sects of
pc?ulii.ion are i'ew; and certainly the national Churches of Eng-
land and Scotland cannot be accounted amongst them : tor,
ho'Jkever they mav differ in some minor circumstances, they a.',
believe in Jesus Christ, their Redeemer."
"I dare not flatter you," said Father Oswald, sorrowfully,
" with assenting to that proposition ; they, too, have the brand
of perdition too deeply marked upon them ; ' they are they who
separate themselves.'* They no longer ' keep the unity of
sprrit ;' they have severed ' the bond of peace ;' they form no
longer 'one body and one spirit ;' they no longer hold ' the one
fait/i? and, there:bre, I must conclude, they no longer believe
ia the ' one Lord ' "t
"How, Sir; how so, Sir!" said the Doctor, much ruffied;
" what do you mean 1 I beg you will explain yourself."
" I will. Sir." said Father Oswald patiently; "does not St,
John say, Whosoever revolteth, and continueth not in the doc-
trine of Christ, hath not God l"j now, all the Protestant Chur-
ches have revolted from the doctrine of Christ: because they
have revolted 1'rom that Church which was in possession of ' the
faith once delivered to the saints.' "
"But, Sir, the Church i'ell into error; into gross and damna-
ble errors and abuses," said the Doctor passionately ; " hence,
the first reformers did well to separate from her, and form a new
fold for themselves."
" Aye," said the General, " and take the old reprobate, Harry,
for their own shepherd."
"Excuse me, Doctor Davison," said Father Oswald firmly,
and drawing himself up with great dignity, " but to say that the
Church has erred, is to <:ive the lie to Christ, who has declared
that it shall never err ; and who has promised to remain with
his Church all days. Whoever asserts that the Church has
erred, and that the gates of Hell have prevailed against her, im-
pugns the veracity of Christ ; and certainly cannot be said to
believe in Him, because to believe in Christ is to receive, with
humble docility of heart, and an entire submission of the under-
standing, nil the divine truths which He has revealed 10 his
Church, and to give an entire and undivided assent to every
thin:* that she teaches in his name."
" Yes, Sir, yes," growled the Doctor ; (i >he Gospel no doui.t
contains the compendium ol those truths.'-'
" But ihe Gospel/' rejoined Father Oswald, !l must be prraoted
* Judo 19 '. Epti. i* ;< 12 John 9 4 Juae 3
36 FATHER OSWALD.
and tanU by men who have authority.* The Apostles and
I heir legitimate successors have received this authority from
Christ himself: ' Go, teach all nations, teaching them to observe
all things whatsoever I have commanded.' The Gospel of
Christ is essentially one ; when, therefore, ' lying teachers' corie
amongst us, and announce new, perverse, and contradictory
(i)iininns as the doctrines of Christ, we say tothem, You announce
' another gospel, which is not another, only there are some that
trouble you, and would pervert the Gospel of Christ. Bui
though we, or an angel from Heaven, preached a gospel to you
besides that which we have preached to you, lot him be ana-
thema.' >; t
There was a pause ; all seemed struck with the words they
had just heard, and the impressive manner in which they were
uttered; but, in a few minutes, the Doctor, rallying his scattered
intellects, said, in a hurried manner
" But I maintain that the Roman Church is fallen and apos
tate ; and her priests not being able to produce Scripture author-
ity for all they teach, appeal to tradition and antiquity: the
religion which founds its chief claim en antiquity must be weak."
"Why, Doctor," exclaimed the General, "you called in anti-
quity to your own aid just now ! Do be consistent, at least."
"But," said Harriet, coming forward to support the Doctor,
" if antiquity is a proof of truth, Mahometans have more right
to it than Catholics, and more claim to numbers, power, and
unity; many of the doctrines of Mahomet being more ancient
than the ncvly discovered doctrines of Mass and Purgatory."
" Besides," interposed the Doctor, "the supremacy of the Pope
began only in the seventh century."
" My friends, my friends, what a confusion of accusations,
and a jumble of ideas!" exclaimed the General; "just listen
one moment: it seems to me, that if an antiquity, which extends
in one unbroken chain up to the Apostles themselves, be not a
n.'oof of the true Church of Christ, I know not what is. Again,
Mass and Purgatory, and every other dogma of the Catholic
Church, are proved by the testimony of Fathers who lived long
before Mahomet; had it not been a lady who had made these
observations, I should have said, what ignorance !"
Harriet bit her lip.
" But, Sir, I would have you to understand clearly," persisted
the Doctor, " that Protestants deny the succession of the popes
* See on this subject, a most interesting volume published by Cass
and Sons, ^ew York, The Written Word and the Living Witness, or
Ihble Question Fairly Tested: Part III.
t Gai. i. 6, 7, 8.
serly
PATHKR OSWALD. 9t
from St. Peter, or, that St. Peter ever was bishop of Rome _
Protestants are quite as capable of discerningtruth as Catholics
there is no means of go ting at truth on such points, but historic
evidence."
" Pshaw . pshaw ! Doctor." cried the General, offering him a
p'inch of snuff, "well-informed Protestants are now ashamed ol
such an old wife's fable. St. Irenasus, who lived in the second
century, the disciple of St. Polycarp, who was the disciple of
St. John the Apostle, has given us the list of the popes down to
nis own days, beginning vvirh St. Peter "
" Nothing can be plainer than that, I think," said Emma.
" But from historic evidence, my dear Mrs. Sei'ton," replied
'.he Doctor, " Protestants deny that the Church of Piome hns for
many centuries resembled, or does now resemble the primitive
Church, as described in the New Testament."
Mrs. Sefton smiled.
" Faith !" said the General, laughing, " the Protestant clergy
oiling in wealth, ease, and luxury, would cut a curious figure,
:ompared with the primitive preachers of the Gospel. It would
>e a most edifying spectacle, to see the Protestant laity selling
fheir possessions and uniting their property for the common USP
of all. Thousands and tens of thousands of Catholics of both
sexes follow this primitive rule to the lettor in religious commu-
nities, even to the present day."
The Doctor looked very angry. "AVell, I am convinced."
persisted he, " that the Catholic Church teaches many painful
things not contained in the Bible. 1 '
"No, Doctor, it does not," said Father Oswald ; "the volun-
tary poverty of so many individuals in the Catholic Church is
one of those painful things, I suppose !"
" Well, I as a sound Protestant divine," said the Doctor
solemnly, " maintain that no doctrines ought to be received, but
what can be plainly shown in the Bible."
"Then we must turn Jews," said Emma, laughing, " and
Keep the sabbath-clay on Saturday. But how do you prove your
assertion 1 You must prove it from your Bible; lor really I
cannot admit it on mere assertions, Doctor." ,
The Doctor looked puzzled, but after a pause said, " Mrs.
Sel'ton, I prove it in this way, that the observances most insisted
on in the Roman Church, as, confession, mass, purgatory, and
sm.li like fond inventions, are only commandments of men."
" If you call confession a commandment of men," said Father
Oswald, " will you tell me, by. what man it was first given !
and also by what extraordinary power he could prevail upon a!i
Christians to submit themselves to so grievous, and till then
so unheard of a yoke V 9*
98 FATHER OS tt'ALD.
" Oh !" said the Doctor, " it was introduced gradually in the
dark ages."
"Still," replied Father Oswald, "Some Pope, Bishop, or
Priest must have begun the innovation; did he meet with no
opposition V
" What opposition could he meet with," answered the Doctor,
' from the ignorant and superstitious men of those times ?"
"Doctor," interposed the General, " you have, melhinks, a
congregation consisting of as ignorant and superstitious a set of
bumpkins, as ever disgraced a Christian congregation in a.
Christian country ; I will bet a hundred pounds to a sixpence,
that in twelve months you will not persuade one to come tc
confession to you/'
" 1 shall never make the experiment, General, I promise you/'
said the Doctor.
" But, my good Sir," said Father Oswald, " you must surely
nave read St. John's Gospel, in Avhich he relates our Saviour's
words ' When He had said this, He breathed upon them ; and
He said to them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost: whose sins you
shall forgive, they are. ibrgiven them ; and whose sins you shall
retain, they are retained.'* Here we see the commission
stamped by the broad seal of Heaven, by virtue of which the
Pastors of Christ's Church absolve repenting sinners upon their
confession."
" But there is not a word about confession there," interrupted
the Doctor; " I know there is a text in St. James, which says,
'Confess your faults one to another,'t and so forth, but in this
text there is not a word said about a priest, or minister of reli-
gion."
'' duote correctly, my good Doctor, quote correctly," cried
the General; "the text is this; 'Confess therefore your sins
one to another; and pray for one another that you may be
saved:': now, liiis little word therefore, refers to what the Apos-
tle had just mentioned in the verses fifteen and fourteen of the
same chapter, in which he had ordered the priests of the Church
;o be called for, and brought in to the sick."
"Certainly," said Father Oswald; " and as we have already
seen from the words of St. John, that Christ our Lord gave to
his Apostles, and their successors in the ministry, the power to
furtiic-e and to rclttin sins, nothing can be more clear than the
consequences which must follow trom this discretionary power,
namely, that we must confess our sins, and make known the
stale of our consciences to the ministers of Christ, before they
can possibly know whose sins they are to forgive, and whose
.hey are to retain."
* John xx. 22. 23 + .Jamns ^ IK t James v. 10.
FATHER OSWALD. 90
'''Mosi disagreeable doctrine, indeed!" mattered Harriet; ;i 1
wonder how any one can be induced to take such a deal of use-
less trouble."
' For the sake of his immortal sou!," said the General.
"Yes," continued Father Oswald; "we all have our sins:
one condition is requisite to obtain pardon ; we must amf-ssonr
sins, and then God is faithful and just in his promises, and He
will cleanse us, through the sacrament of penance, of all our
iniquities. Jesus Christ is then our Advocate with the Father.
He is the propitiation for our sins. His blood cleanseth us
from them all. Of this we cannot doubt; for f.ve efiicacy ol
the sacrament is derived from the blood of Christ ; but that blood
must be applied to our souls through those channels which He
has opened, one of which the Apostle most clearly points out.
namely. ' if we confess our sins,'* so clearly, that none but the
wilfully blind can mistake it."
" Do you ever recollect, Doctor," said Emma with an arch
'mile, " to have read in the works of St. Martin Luther himself
these words 1 ' Sooner,' says he ' would I submit to the papal
tyranny, than let confession be abolished.' "
"Some spurious edition, no doubt," said the Doctor, rising
and taking his candle ; ' : but I must wish you good night, Mrs.
Sefton, I have a letter to write for tomorrow's post; but you,
my good lady, are grossly deceived if you think the Roman
Catholic Church has power to forgive sins; no, she has no such
power: none but God can forgive sins. No command exists in
the Bible to confess to priests, at least that I can interpret in tha.
light."
"Hold, Doctor," cried the General ; "we cannot let you off
in that style; sit down a tew minutes longer."
" Excuse me, General." replied the Doctor, walking towards
the door, " it is a letter of importance, and must be ready."
" Will you stick to your charge then, Doctor, for four-and-
twenty hours, and stand fire to-morrow evening: rememlier,
Sir, you have given no answer to my objection ; so, in order
that you may have something to ponder upon, if you should
chance to wake in the night, I will state it again briefly. Two
serious Bible readers come to two contradictory conclusions on
seme great mystery of faith affecting their eternal salvation ;
which is to yield to the other 1 or how is the question ;*> i:o
settled ? Has Christ commanded us to believe all that he linf
revealed under the pain of eternal damnation, and provided no
easy, secure, and certain means of knowing what he hasrecal'\l 1
think of that, Dr. Davison."
1 John. i
100 FATHEK OSW.ILD.
" As to that, General Russell, I have given my answer ; it it
not likely I shall change my mind to-morrow, and I am not
afraid of your lire, I can assure you; but the morrow will pro-
vide for itself, ' sufficient for the day is the evil thereof,' say*
Holy Scripture," muttered he to himself, as he walked along
the corridor to his room.
In a lew minutes, Harriet took her candle also, and retired
When she had closed the door after her, Mrs. Sefton asked hei
uncle, with a sigh, how long he thought Dr. Davisoa was going
10 ,'tay."
"I don't know, my dear; the shorter the better," said hn
bluntly.
" Long or short," said Father Oswald kindly, " don't let this
iittle trial disturb you, my dear child; God will strengthen and
protect you in all your difficulties, if you place your whole trust
in. Him; but you have been quite long enough disturbed this
evening; so good-night, and God bless you."
CHAPTER XIII.
" 'Heathens,' they said, 'ran toll us right from wrong,
Jhit to the Christian higher points belon;,'."
Yet Jacques proceeded, void of fear and *hame,
In his old method, and obtained the name
Of Moral Preaclur. Vet they all areed,
Whatever error had defiled his creed.
His life was pure ; and him they could commend.
Not as their guide indeed, but. as their friend." CUABBB
DOCTOR DAVISON had his letter ready for the post the ne.r.
morning, as he had announced the previous even ing; but to his
treat disappointment the post could not go. The snow ha?, in-
creased so much during the night, that all the roads from tliu 1
II 11 were completely blocked up. The letter wasto Mr. Sefton.
complaining bitterly of the disagreeable circumstances in which
Ii3 lound himself placed; and his entire conviction, that be
could be of no use whatever to Mrs. Sefton in bringing her
back to Protestantism. He failed not to hint at his own zealous
exertions in the cause in which Mr. Sefton had so deep an in-
terest, and to insert two or three well-turned sentences of ree'ret
at the hopeless obstinacy of the strayed sheep; he concluded by
recommending measures of conciliation, and by giving his
FAT-HKR OSWALD. 101
opinion, that mildness would do more than violence and perse-
cution to carry conviction to the heart. The Doctor had deter-
mined, moreover, to return immediately to the parsonage, and
there wait for the answer; the unexpected increase ot'the snow-
storm was therefore a considerable annoyance to him, as he
coulil not help anticipating a iew more troublesome days ami
wearisome evenings. In vain he looked out of the window,
and then consulted the thermometer ; the snow seemed every
moment to increase, and the whole air was darkened with the
constant and quiet succession of brilliant flakes, as they silently
descended to feed the dazzling mass of snow which covered the
whole surface of the landscape several feet deep, as far as the
eye could reach to the utmost bounds of the horizon. There
was no resource' for the Doctor, but to find some occupation to
divert his mind from the tedium of this involuntary captivity ;
he therefore settled himself to write a letter to Mrs. Davison, to
have the pleasure of complaining at least of all his annoyances-
.rusting, in the meantime, that the road would be sufficiently
cleared to allow a passage ibr the little boy, who carried the
post-bag to the next town and passed the door of the parsonage
in his route. Father Oswald was compelled also to remain,
but not unwillingly ; for he saw he could in this moment impart
much benefit and consolation to the new con vert; besides, he
knew his flock at his little Mission could not suffer, as there was
one of the superiors of his Order staying there ibr a time on
business of the Society. Mrs. Sefton i'elt the influence of the
severe storm and was not well enough to see her friends in the
evening. This was a great relief to the worthy Doctor, though
he affected to lament the circumstance much, and neglected not
to send most polite inquiries after the invalid by Harriet and
Mrs. Ashton. In the evening the General challenged him to a
game at chess, and failed not now and then to remind him, thai
he came off much better in that battle, than it was likely ho
would in his controversial one. which he begged him to remem-
ber stood over for the next meeting in his niece's room. This
meeting the Doctor promised himself would never take plare-
for he had determined to urge business of importance, ana
escape to the parsonage the moment the road was safe; but this
determination, like so many of more importance, vanished be-
fore the influence of circumstances. In a few days, Mrs. Sefton
was able to receive them, and the Doctor was still snow-bound ;
he could not in common politeness avoid joining the parly,
i bough somewhat late in the evening. The Doctor did his u'.-
i vst to keep the conversation on general topics, in which Father
Os'vald seconded him, and entertained them with seine rexy
105J FATIIEU OSWALD.
Interesting literary anecdotes ; for he did not thimc ihese con-
troversial discussions good either for Mrs. Sei'ton's health or
spirits, in her present convalescent state. But the General was
not to be baulked of his evening's amusement; besides, h
thought the sooner the Doctor got a good drubbing, as he called
it. the sooner the matter would be finished, and the sooner they
would be released from his presence ; therefore, the moment
there was a convenient pause in the conversation, he commenced,
" Weil, Doctor, do you still stick to your charge, that the Church
has no power to remit sins, and that there is no command to
that effect in the Bible ?"
"Yes, General," said the Doctor very reluctantly; "I do
repent what I said some evenings since ; it is my creed, that none
but God can forgive sins."
" On my word ! and a very easy way you have chosen to get
rid of your sins," replied the General ; "you have only tobelievo
in the Scriptures according to your creed, and the job is done,
now let me try the experiment. Suppose my conscience ia
Imrthened with sin, I make an act of faith, I must firmly believe
that Christ died for me. and made full atonement to the justice
of God for all my sins; I believe this on the infallible Word of
God, as I read it in the Scriptures, lo! my sins are blotted out;
nothing more comfortable!''
<; Very comfortable, indeed!" said Harriet.
"Wait a little, Miss Sefton," continued the General. "1
open the Scriptures again, and they tell me. I must confess my
sins to a man who has received power to forgive them, and, lo !
my sins stare me again in the face! not quite so comfortable
after all, you see, Miss Harriet."
"Blaspheme not, Sir," said the Doctor, turning very red,
" this is not a fit subject for jesting with."
" I beg your pardon, Dr. Davison, I never was more serious
in my life," replied the General ; " but let me finish my sentence.
Well, I now betake myself, alter due preparation, to the confes-
sional, and when I have got over the disagreeable, but indispen-
sable task of declaring my sins, of blushing at my iniquities,
of detesting them from my heart, repenting of the grievous
offence I have given to God, and proposing, on no considera-
tion, ever more to relapse into them, I receive absolution, or the
pardon and remission of all ; then I rise up from the feet of the
Confessor, with well-founded confidence that my iniquities h;,ve
been really forgiven. Now, indeed, I feel comfortable, ;.nd the
more so, that I have carried my faith in Scripture into faithful
execution. That no one but God can forgive sins is very true
and sound Catholic doctrine ; but it is equallv true that God
FATHER OSWALIJ. 303
ran prescribe what conditions He, in His wisdom, mercy, and
I ustice, shall deem proper; and that He can exercise this His
supreme power through any minister on whom He pleases to
confer it. :>
" But, Sir," said the Doctor emphatically, " has God conferred
such power on man 1 has He given this, His supreme power,
to weak, sinful man as His delegates V
" Yes, He has," said Father Oswald firmly : " Christ cur
Saviour wrought a miracle to prove that God can do this."
" How is that, Sir? I do not remember any such thing in
Scripture," said the Doctor.
"And yet St. Matthew relates it thus: 'And behold, they
lirought to Him one sick of the palsy, lying on a bed. And
Jesus, seeing their faith, said to the man sick of the palsy, Be
of good heart, son, thy sins are forgiven thee. And behold,
some of the Scribes said within themselves, He blasphemeth.
And Jesus, seeing their thoughts, said, Why do you think evil
in your hearts 1 Whether is it easier to say, Thy sins are for-
given thee, or to say, Arise, and walk 1 But that you may
know that the Sou of man. hath power on earth to forgive sins
(then said He to the man, sick of the palsy), Arise, take up thy
bed, and go into thy house. And he arose, and went into his
house. And the multitudes, seeing it, feared and glorified God,
that gave such power to men.'* We now and then meet with a
glimpse of Protestantism in Holy Scripture. The Scribes in
this passage are fair representations of them; for, like them,
they say, ' He blasphemeth.' "
"Egad!" exclaimed the General, "true Protestants again,
the Bible swarms with them."
" It is too much, Sir, it is too much," said the Doctor very
indignantly."
" Not at all too much, my good friend," replied Father Oswald,
quietly ; you made use of those very words yourself, not three
minutes ago, to the General. But observe. Dr. Davison, Christ
promised to confer this power of forgiving sins, first upon PetiT
alone, with the plenitude of all jurisdiction : ' I will give to lh.ce
the keys of the kingdom of Heaven. And whatsoever then
shalt bind upon earth, it- shall be bound also in Heaven; and
whatsoever thou shalt loose on earth, it shall be loosed also in
Heaven. 't Next, He gave it to all the Apostles in a body:
'Amen, I say to you, whatsoever you shall bind upon earth;
fiiall be bound also in Heaven ; and whatsoever you shall loose
upon earth, shall be loosed also in Heaven.'} At length H-;
actually conferred that power as fully cs He had received i(
Matt if. 2,8. T Mitt. xvi. JO I Matt xviii. 18.
04 FATHER OSWALD.
rom the Father: 'As the Father hath sent me, I also send
you. When he had said this, he brrrJhcd upon them, and lie
said to them, Receive ye the Holy Ghost ; whose sins you sh;ill
forgive, they are forgiven them; and whose sins you sh.ili
retain, they are retained.'* It is evident from this very explicit
text, that Christ constituted his Apostles judges over tne con-
sciences of men ; for they are to determine who is fit to have
his sins forgiven, cr who is not fit, and must have his sins
retained. Now, it is impossible that the ministers of Christ
can come to this knowledge but by the candid confession of the
penitent.
"But," said Harriet doubting!}', "supposing Christ did give
this power to his Apostles, it does not follow that it exists in :he
Catholic Church now: it cert: inly js not practised in (lie Pro
testant Church, and if the power exists at all, is considered as a
de;id letter."
" My dear Miss Sefton," replied Father Oswald. " the powers
which Christ gave to his Apostles, when he sent them, are
transmitted to their successors in the ministry until the end ol
' days : ' Behold I am with you all <!nys, even to the consummation
of the world. 't Confession is daily practised nnw in the Catholic
Church, and with us it is no dead letter. The primitive Chris-
tians practised confession: 'And many of them lhat believed
came, confessing and de-daring lh"ir deeds, and many of them
who had followed curious arts, brought together I heir books,
and burnt them before all ; and counting the price of them, they
found the money to be fifty thousand pieces of silver.'; Now,
the faithful came not to boast of their good deeds, but to con'ess
and manifest their evil deeds, as is evident from the fruit of their
confession in burning their wicked books."
" This certainly seems curious," said Harriet, " and difficult
to explain in any other way.''
<: The Apostles," continued Father Oswald. " exhorted their
con verts to approach the sacrament of reconciliation, in language
perfectly understood and familiar to Catholics of the present
day: 'But all things are of God, who hath reconciled us to
Himself by Christ, and hath given to us ihc ministry of rcctmci-
liation. For God indeed was in Christ, reconciling the world
to himself, net imputing to them their sins ; and he hath placed
in us the word of reconciliation. For Christ, therefore, we are
ambassadors, God as it were exhorting by us. For Christ, we
Beseech you, lie n'cimcilnl to God.' "
" Mighty sophistical !" said the Doctor contemptuously; "1
cannot see the application."
* John xx. 21. t Mi.n. jrxvitt 20.
A.CIS. xix. 13 19 "> * Car v jft, tit.
TATHKK OSWALD. 105
"Why, it is as clear as the sun at noonday, Doctor," said the
General; "take a pinch of snuff to brighten your intellects; 1
fear they are somewhat oSuscated."
"You see," s?.id Father Oswald patiently, "the Apostle in
Ihis passage expressly says, that Christ has established in hii
Hhurch a ministry of reconciliation 'or the forgiveness of sins,
that his ministers are the ambassadors or delegates of God,
holding the word of reconciliation or the power of absolul ion
Again St John exhorts also to confession : ' If we say tit: t wt
nave no sin. we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us
If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just to forgive us out
sins, and cleanse us from all iniquity.'* St. J.;ines is equally
earnest on this point : ' Confess, therefore, your sins one to an-
i.ther;'t there can be no doubt the Apostle means, to those who,
we have just seen, have power lofur^iet them or to retain them."
" Well." said Harriet, " what you have just stated is certainly
very strong; still this confession is a most severe law to flesh
and blood ; and then the trouble and bother of it ! to say nothing
of the shame one must leel to te!i all one's faults to a man ;
dear me ! I am sura I never could bring my mind to do it. Would
it be absolutely necessary, Sir, belore one could be made a
Catholic!"
"You have seen," said Father Oswald smiling, "that St.
Feter holds the keys of the kingdom of Heaven ; we must be
content to enter there on the conditions our Saviour has attached
to unlocking the door. ::
" Besides, Harriet," said Emma, " though it seems at first a
very hard and disagreeable thing to a Protestant, yet, I do as-
sure you, that the inexpressible peace and comfort which suc-
ceed the performance of this duty, will repny a tboussndi'oM
whatever there is humiliating and painful in ft. Before I took
the final determination of becoming a Catholic, it was one of the
things which worried and frightened me more than any other;
it used to occur to rny waking thoughts and U> my nightly
dreams ; and in the midst of rny most pleasing occupations it
brought a pang to my heart, which I cannot describe, i thought
it would be impossible to get oVer this great difficulty. I prayed
to God to help me, and then I began to think of it with less ap-
prehension ; I resolved to do it. whatever it might cost me, for
the love of God; when I cam? t;> the execution of ry resolve,
my fears and horror of it redoubled ; but God had compassion
on me, and gave me graco to kneel down at the feet of the
priest, and to confess niy sins; then all the difficulties vanished,
and in a few moments, instead of feeling one of the most
* 1 Juh:i i. 8. y t Jumes v. 15.
10
(Ob FATHER OSWALD.
frightened and miserable of beings, I felt one of the most con-
soled and most joyful. Since that I have had no difficulty;
but every time I approach this sacrament, I feel an increase of
peace and spiritual consolation."
Doctor Davison appeared affected, and sighed deeply.
" Yes," observed the General musingly; "it is this bugbear
of confession which prevents hundreds from coming to the point,
arid embracing the Catholic religion, though they perfectly feel
the conviction that it is the only true one ; they cannot brook
the humiliation of telling their sins to a fellow-man, though that
man is bound by all laws, divine and human, to perpetual
secrecy. You can never, my dear niece, sufficiently thank God,
who gave you the grace to overcome your natural repugnance,
for I will acknowledge it is a very natural repugnance, to
this act of penance, and who enabled you to embrace the humi
fjiation of the Cross "
" I should not so much object," said the Doctor rather slowly.
"to the humiliation of the ;ict ; it is not that I should mind so
much; but I object to the system altogether, as tyrannical and
galling, nay, even as demoralizing, and liable to great ahuses."
" Halt, halt, for Heaven's sake! 1 ' cried the General; "those
who tax a law which Jesus Christ himself has given us with
ibeing tyrannical, gallinsr, and demoralizing, are rash indeed,
.and should tremble, lest they may incur the guilt of blasphemy/'
" Oh, no," said Mrs. Sefton earnestly ; " that is not as I have
reason to suspect i/our objection to confession, nor that of any
. other Protestant who professes to believe in the divinity of Christ;
for God could never give us a law galling, tyrannical and de-
moralizing; rather confess candidly that it is the humiliation
and ]>c.n ;nc-:."
" Pray, tell me, Doctor," interposed the General, " do you
ever hear the confessions of your parishioners'?''
" Never," answered the Doctor with emphasis.
" Yet it is prescribed in your Common Prayer-book, in the
"Visit.'ition of the Sick."
" That," said the Doctor, " is quite optional to the sick person
'In the beginning of the Reformation it was necessary to quiet
the scruples of the people, who had been accustomed to it
ujjtter popery. Now the people know better, and no o::e needs it."
" Then I suppose," said the General, with a malicious smile,
'you consider the Bishop to be acting a notable farce, when he
,*ays his hands on your head, and says, ' Whose sins you shall
'forgive, they are forgiven them,' and so forth."
" Speak more reverently, Sir, if you please," exclaimed the
.Doctor; " these an the words of Holy Scripture."
FATHER OSWALD. 107
" And most irreverently applied, my good Doctor, if they
mean nothing."
"They have their meaning," responded the Doctor; "but
what have they to do with penance 1 there is no such word in
Scripture."
"Ana yet, what says St. John the Baptist 1 'Do penance;
for the kingdom of Heaven is at hand,' "* added the General.
"There I entirely differ from you. General Russell," replied
he Doctor warmly; ibr the Catholic Bible is wrongly transia-
led, as in this instance; instead of ' do penance, 1 the Protestant
Bible translates it, ' repent' from the Greek."
" But, Doctor Davison. did you never observe," said Father
Oswald, " that the English Catholic Bible purports to be, in its
title-page, a translation of the Latin Vulgate, and so it is a most
faithful one 7 Therefore, 'do penance' is the expression of the
Vulgate : now. are we to be told that the translators of the Greek
text into Latin, so many hundred years ago, did not understand
the meaning of the Greek word, but that its true meaning was
reserved for the sagacity of the Protestant sciolists 1 Shame on
them ! let them consult the Greek Fathers ; let them ask the
Greek Christians of the present day, how they understand the
word, and these Protestant qnibblers will find that the Greeks
agree with the English Catholic version."
~"Yes," added the General; "for, in fact, tc. 'do penance,'
implies repentance, and something more; for, nn man proceeds
to inflict upon himself external acts of penanre, until he has
acquired an internal change of heart. Penance v/as always
hateful to Protestants, who, for the most part, walk so, that we
may say with the Apcstle, ' that they are enemies of the Cross
of Christ; whose end is destruction, whose God is their belly,
and whose glory is in their shame ; who mind earthly things.' "t
"You are too severe, General," said the Doctor reddening;
" Protestants, I can tell you, see no religion in fasting, mortifi-
cations, and penances; more especially lasting in public at
stated times; fasting as commanded by the Church, or exceed-
ing what the Church commands, is absolutely contrary to Scrip-
ture."
"Oh! yes," said the General, laughing; "it is very natura.
that Protestants should see no religion in lasting, mortifications,
and penan.ces. They have inherited the dislike to such things
from their great ancestor, Martin Luther, the profligacy of whose
life sufficiently proves his abhorrence of such uncom!ort;,ble
practices; he was wont to say, 'I cannot lx?ar this Jerome, he
is perpetually canting about fasting and continence.' ";
* Matt. iii. 2. + Phil, iii 18 i Serv. Arb
108 FATHER OSWALD.
" Yes," said the Doctor, " Luther had seen how liable such
things are to introduce bad consequences, such as hypocrisy and
licentiousness, particularly among the Clergy, so lie wisely re-
formed those abuses."
" We must not lay aside a good practice, Doctor, because it
maybe abused; otherwise, we should be reduced to various
straits." said Father Oswald; "Catholics, on the contrary,
believing that ' Christ also suffered for us, leaving you an ex-
ample, that you should follow His steps,'* and knowing that
'Christ did not please Himself ;'t think only of His forty days'
fast, His vigils by night. His having no place whereon to
lay His head, His humiliations, His sufferings, as so Many
striking examples given to his followers, which at a great dis-
tance they try to imitate ; they are encouraged in their efforts by
the practice of the Apostle, who says, ' I chastise my body, and
bring it into subjection. 1 "j
" But," said Harriet, " has not Christ reprobated fasting, when
He Bays, 'When vou fast, be not as the hypocrites, sad, lev
they disfigure their laces, that they may appear unto men tc
fast. But thou, when thou fastest, anoint thy head, and wash
thy face' ?"
'" What a singular instance of Bible reading when viewed
through a pair of Protestant spectacles !" said the General, with
surprise.
" I beg your pardon, Sir," said Harriet, colouring and
drawing herself up; " I do not wear spectacles, at least, very,
very seldom, and that only when I am doing open hem by can-
dlelight."
"Well, my dear Miss Sefton, no offence'," said the General,
in an apologetic tone; "however, the Doctor does; so it comes
much to the same thing. I only want to prove to yon, that
these said Prnb'stavt spectacles obscure the Bible reader in
his views of Scripture truths rather than aid him ; for if you had
rend another verse, you would have found these words, 'and
the Father will repay thee,' so that you see there is some profit
.'n fasting; moreover, by the same reasoning, it follows from
the context, that Christ equally reprobr.tes prayer and almsilceds.
Because the hypocrites, you tell me, 'disfigure their faces, that
they may appear unto men to fast, but thou when thou fastes!
anoint thy head an;] wash thy face,' therefore there is no religion
in fasting and corporal pennnces. Now, listeti to the parity ot
such reasoning. Because the hypocrites love to stand and prav
in the synagogues, and corners of the streets, therefore there
is no religion in frequenting the churches, or the conventicle, or
* 1 Peter ii. 21. t [loin. iv. 3. t 1 Cor. ix. 27. 4 Matt, vi 1C. 17
FATHER OSWALD. I9 1 )
prnyer-meeting. where much speaking and long-winded orisons
are poured forth. Because the hypocrites sound a trumpet
Ixjfore them in the synagogues and in the streets, therefore there
is no religion in the jingle and glitter of coin dropped into th-2
open plate at the conventicle door, or in the names trumpeted
in the subscription lists of Bible Societies, Missionary Societies,
Reformation Societies, ct cttzra, ct cetera. Strange Bible com-
mentators these! Christ, in the passage you have jusi mentioned,
re-probates equally prayer, fasting, and almsdeeds, when done
through a motive of hypocrisy, ' that they may be seen by men ;'
but Ha equally commends to his disciples, and enjoins also,
fasting, as well as prayer and almsdeeds, when done for the
pure ;;iid sole motive of pleasing God."
' Bless me, General ! what a rout you make just about a sim-
ple, innocent observation," exclaimed Harriet in a pet. " I
a 1 ways hated controversy ; I never could endure it ; and what
unlucky sprite put it into my head to speak, I know not. But I
knew something vexatious was sure to happen, when you were
clumsy enough to spill that nasty salt close to my plate at
dinner."
Emma laughed outright, neither could Father Oswald keep
his countenance. The General attempted an apology for his
awkwardness, but the Doctor, with much gravity said, "No,
Miss Sefton, it was neither an unlucky sprite, northespijlingof
a little salt, which caused you to speak forth in the good cause
of truth, and to exercise your right reason in free discussion.
Whatever Catholics may say, I maintain, that watching and
praying, and bearing the crosses God sends us, and resisting
our inclinations, when contrary to our obedience to God, is suf-
ficient, without mortifying our inclinations, merely because they
are natural inclinations."
" What !" said the General, with unfeigned surprise, " are
watching, and prat/ir, r.nd bearing crosses, and resisting evil
lrn.liiiai.inns, any ways requisite 1 A little while since you tolil
us all this was perfectly useless ! nay, even that it was contrary
'o Holy Scripture. From my perusal of the Bible, particularly
the New Testament, I have interred that to rex-id the evil incli-
nr. lions of nature, yes, and to nub due them too. is the primary
duty of every Christian, and the great triumph of gn.ce over
corrupted nature."
"To be sure," said the Doctor, ''there can be little douht bin
that Christians ought to try, as I just observed, to resist their
evil inclinations; but God knows how difficult it is, and almost
impossible, in the sense in which you Catholics mean it."
'' W* kuow very well," replied Father Oswald, "that in this
ID*
110 FATIJKR OSWALD.
warfare of the flesh against the spirit, of ourselves MT. ,'.an da
nothing, but with the grace of God we can do eveiy auv-ft. 1
say we can do nothing by our own unaided strength, but (vilified
by llie grace of Christ we can do much, therefore io>: rtuifH co-
operate with the grace of God. These exertions on our ysf\
are of two sorts, internal and external; the internal consist hi
file acts of the free will, always strengthened by divine grace,
ly which we promptly repress the first rising emotions of our
passions, and these I am willing to allow are the more penecl
acts of virtue: the external consist in the mortification of Ihe
senses, and sensible pains inflicted on the body. These acts 6f
themselves are of no avail, unless accompanied by the internal
acts of the soul ; but so accompanied, they are powerful to sub-
jugate the passions, and render ' the members as instruments ol
justice unto God.' "*
" Inflicting pains on the body lo make nn impression on the
soul !" said Harriot contemptuously; "what ridiculous n^n^ense,
and how perfectly useless."
' : By no means useless," continued Father Oswald mildly, "it
is very salutary, however you may dislike it; for, if to pamper
the body, to indulge the senses, to loll in ease and luxury, ant!
feast sumptuously every day, are powerful incentives to concu-
piscence and sin, it follows of necessity, that 'to crucify the
flesh,' to ' mortify the members,' to check the appetites, to watch,
to fast, to pray, are powerful means to acquire the dominion of
the spirit over the body. So whosoever does these tilings with
the pure motive of pleasing Gocl, does works highly acceptable
to Him, and ' He will repay him.' There is another motive for
external mortification, which is, ' to do penance for our sins ;' a
still more sublime motive, which has animated the saints to the
most heroic deeds of penance, is to render themselves in some
sort ' conformable to the image of His Son.'t But these r.re
motives," added the Father, sighing, " which none but Catholics-
can understand."
"Luckily for us, we cannot understand any such curious
ideas," said Harriet, whose horror at the very thought of the
trouble and disagrceableness of doing penance, had quite rousrd
her. " I once opened a book I found on Emma's table, cal.c-d,
1 think, 'The Lives of the Saints.' Well, to be sure, I naver
read such curious things in my life. I went reading and reading
en, ibr I dare say a couple of hours ; it really quite interested
me: Such penances! it was something so new to me. Such
accounts of hair shirts, and disciplines, and spending whole
hours in saying their prayers. Oh dear me ! I could not help
* Horn vi. 13 t Horn, viii 2'J
PATH EH OSWALD. 111
pitying them, and feeling sorry they had given themselves such
a deal of useless trouble, to say the least of it, for some of them
must have been quite blinded by enthusiasm. However, I sup-
pose such things don't take place no\v-a-days."
"Indeed they do," said Emma; "Catholics still many of
them, take the discipline, wear hair shirts, and do penances-
and as to the saints, they need not your pity, but ought rather
to excite your emulation ; for now they are glorified spirits in
Heaven, reaping the rich reward of their penances and good
works, done for the love of God here below."
"Well, I cannot envy them their penances," said Harriet,
" for I hope to gel a bed in Heaven at a much cheaper rate : I
am quite satisfied there is no need of mortifications to subdue
our evil inclinations, the guidance of the soul with the grace of
God being sufficient."
" St. Paul," replied Emma, " the vessel of election, had surely
the guidance of the soul ; but, perhaps you mean conscience,
by this strange expression ; and St. Paul had also the grace of
God, yet he did not think this quite sufficient to preserve him
from reprobation; for he says, 'but I clias'iK my bixh/, and
bring it into subjection; lest perhaps, when I have preached to
others, I myself should become a castaway.' "*
Harriet looked a little uneasy, but said. " Well, well, Emma,
you will see, that penance can do nothing for us at the hour of
death."
" It is quite enough for us if it can do something for us before
that time," replied Emma; "few think of doing much penance
at that awful moment. It is enough Ihf.n for the pious Christian
to bow in humble submission to the divine will, and kiss the
hand that inflicts the greatest chastisement of sin, 'for by sin
death entered into the world.' "
" You have thought much more about these things than (
have," said Harriet, somewhat pensively.
" There is but one thing necessary, dearest Harriet," answer-
ed Emma, with a sigh.
" Come, my dear, it is high time you were in bed," said the
General, looking at his watch.
" Indeed it is,'' added Father Oswald, " so God bless you, my
dear Madam."
" HTVC you got that book by you, Mrs. Sefton, which Miss
[Jurriet was just now mentioning 1" said Doctor Davison ;
" the ' Lives of the Saints, I think. I should just like tn v av
A look a. it."
* 1 Cor. is. 27
12 FATHER OSWALD.
" It is in the library, Sir; it belonged lo my poor father; mj
uncle will show you the shell' where yon can find it."
" Thank you, Madam, and good-night," replied the Doctor,
following General Russell into the library.
CHAPTER XIV.
A hideous figure of their foes they draw :
Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours true ,
And this grotesque design expose lo view,
And yet tiie dauonig pleases !" PUYDF.N.
"WELL, Doctor Davison," said Mrs. Sefton, after the lime
party round her fire-side had finished their tea the following
evening, " what do you think of the ' Lives of the Stints,'
which you asked me to lend you last night 1"
" Yes," said Harriet eagerly; "what do you think of them,
Sir 1 did I not say truly it is a curious production ?"
"Ladies," said the Doctor, solemnly, "my opinion of ihe
singular work I have been perusing this rooming, may not be
agreeable to all parties here present; so I had best, I think, keep
it to myself."
"I ihink that is scarcely fair upon us, Sir," said Harriet,
somewhat disappointed.
"Fair! no, indeed it is not fair," said the General, "come,
Doctor, out with it ; we shall be able to stand the shock, I dare
say."
" Well, then," answered the Doctor, " I must in candour own,
that there are many very interesting, and even heroic and edi-
(Ving actions related of these pious individuals whom you call
Saints: but there are many things mentioned in them, which
seem to me so enthusiastic and so extraordinary, that I can
scarcely believe them: indeed, some of them, I think, are pr-
lectly incredible."
"An act of divine faith is not required by the Church from
her members for fill the actions which are related of the saints,"
said Father Oswald, " but merely a human faith, such as we
give to historical facts, when founded on what seems lo us good
and unobjectionable evidence of the truth of what we read there ;
but I think from what you say, Sir, you are altogether pleased
with the work you have been skimming through this morning. 1
FATHKR OSWALD. 113
" These wer? -:iy first impnssinns, Sir," re; .ied the Doctor,
" but the result f.f my reflections I have not yet told you.''
" Perhaps you will favour us with them, Sir," said Emma.
" They mr.y seem strang'e to you, Madam, who probably have
not reflect'*! much on the subject; but to me it seems very evi-
dent thai our Saviour being a complete Saviour, we have no
business, 'J add any of our imperfect doings to that all-peifect
work: v/c must trust our salvation wholly to his hands: Jbr
a! temp 1 ing to help ourselves is acting as fcols, and dishonouring
Clirwt, ibr without Him we can do nothing."
" *.'j doubt," answered Father Oswald, ''Christ is a complete
Saviour, and nothing is wanted on his part to make his redemp-
tion most plenteous. But/' added he, " is nothing wanted on
o'ir part, in order to be made partakers of his redemption '? did
not St. Paul say, ' I fill up those things that are wanting of the
sufferings of Christ in my flesh' '?"*
' Yes, yes; the Doctor has only put the thought which I tried
to express yesterday in a clearer point of view," exclaimed
Harriet, triumphantly, '-namely, that at the hour of death,
penances, good works, and piety will give no courage to meet
our Judge: all will seem a covering of filthy n-gs, ;.-nd the
righteousness of Christ alone will be seen to have wrought the
work of salvation."
"Well, Miss Sefton," said the General gravely, "you have
certainly chalked out for yourself a much easier path to Heaver
than St. Paul seemed to think advisable ; beware lest you may
be deceiving yourself. / always thought that ' to lay up trea-
sures in Heaven, 't by prayer, fasting, and almsdeeds, as recom-
mended by Jesus Christ, himself in his sermon on tin: mount,
would give some secure hope to a poor mortal, when on the
point of appearing beibre the tribunal of the just Judge, who
will take special account of such good works. Why ! does not
Jesus promise the Kingdom of Heaven as a reward to those
vho do good works ? 'For I WL-S hungry and you gave me to
eat, ct cetera.'; Alas ! this vehement spite of evangelicals
against good works shows too clearly whence they all spring"
'' I am not an evangelical, General Russell, I would have you
to know," retorted Harriet.
" You know best what you are, my dear lady," replied the
General ; "you express their sentiments however."
"Nevertheless, the sentiments are good sentiments," inter-
posed the Doctor, " and sound doctrine too; for when the day
of eternity comes, we shall see the vanity of such iriiles as
mortifications, penances, and watch ings; and we shall require
C.il. i 21. * Matt. v\20. t Matt. xv. 35.
J 14 FATHER OSWALD.
forgiveness for attempting to add such rubbish to niaks more
per. cot the finished: work of the Son of Gocl ; ibr these said good,
works, fasts, mortifications, penances, and prayers, are of DO
merit nor use ; there is no favour to 5e expected from God, nor
increase of grace gained, nor help towards Heaven acquired by
them, but by the sole merits of Christ, who has merited ant!
done all for us. 1 '
"I can see no inference to be drawn from this," said the
General : " that as Christ has merited and done all for us, we
have nothing to do ourselves! It' it be so, why keep the people
in ignorance 1 Why not preach a farewell sermon to them, and
speak to them openly at once, somewhat in this style? 'My
dearly beloved brethren, I am come to announce to you this
morning tidings of great joy : the Salvation of Israel is come :
he has made wide the narrow gate, he has opened broad the
strait way : enter ye in at the widened portal ; you are no longer
to labour, and be barthened: for Christ hath refreshed you ; he
has washed you from all your iniquities, he has cleansed you
from all your sins. Rejoice always in the Lord; I say again,
rejoice. Eat, drink, and be merry; above all things, never
mortify your members, with their vices and concupiscences : it
is all to no purpose : you are only covering yourself with filthy
rags; never presume to add such rubbish to make perfect the
finished work of the Son of God. Christ has done all for you ;
to think the contrary is a vile popish superstition : for the Papists,
poor fools, think there is something ' wanting in the sufferings
of Christ, 1 which they fondly imagine they can fill up in their
own flesh ; nothing can be more opposed to the Scriptural scheme
of man's redemption. How much more comfortable it is to
know and to J'eel assured, that our salvation is finished ! We
have got above all law ; we have attained Christian liberty : sin
and death have lost all dominion over us, and therefore it is
quite useless trouble in us to pray and to preach ; let us shut
up our churches, or rather let us clear away these lumbering
benches ; turn the building into a ball-room, and call in the pipe
and tabor. As for me, I never intend to preach again : for that
is quite useless ; you all have the Bible, and you can read it, it
you like, from beginning to end : you will find my doctrine true.
But as some men of gloomy dispositions may easily mistake
certain obscure passages of the Bible, which the Pr.pists an?
continually putting forth against the clearest evidence, thi.t Christ
has done every thing (or us; what say ye, my beloved breihren,
o our burning the Bibles altogether in a heap, and hencefor-
ward parsing our days in pleasure and jollity ! for, truly, there
can be little use in reading the Bible, which cannot hnlo us one
FATHER OSWALD. 1 15
#tep towards Heaven, seeing that Christ having done every
tiling for us. we hare no need to do any thing for oursel /es;
rejoice, therefore, my brethren ; rejoice always in the Lord ,
again I say, rejoice.' "
" Really you are a great deal too bad, General Russell/' said
Doctor Davison very indignantly; "ridicule is no argument."
' But it sets things in a clear point of view sometimes," an-
swered the General good-hnmou redly ; " however, to be serious
in answer to what you assert, namely, that by good works and
penance we try to become our own Saviour, I must, in the first
place, assure you, that no Catholic tries to become his own
Saviour; 1'or he knows, as well as any Biblical can tell him,
that Jesus is the only Saviour, 'Neither is there salvation in
any other. For there is no other name under Heaven given
to man, whereby we must be saved.'* In the second place, he
knows also, ;md better it seems than Biblicals know, that he
cannot arrive at salvation but by the narrow path which Christ
has pointed out to him. Good God ! one would think that the
Calvinistical Bible readers had never opened the first pages of
the Gospel, when they raise their voices against good works."
i; Indeed one would," said Father Oswald, shaking his head;
" yet, what can they make of the sermon on the mount 1 it is
but an exhortation to the practice of every species of good works :
prayer, /asting, almsdeeds, patience, humility, sell-mortification,
etcetera; and, though Jesus reprobates the hypocrisy of those
who seek the applause of men, yet he tells his disciples, ' So let
your light shine before men, that they may see your good tcorks,
and glorify your Father who is in Heaven.' "t
"That is rather strong, ro be sure," said Hairiet, looking
fidgetty.
"Then, again," continued Father Oswald, " there is not an
epistle of the Apostle, in which he does not exhort the faithful
to the practice of good works, springing out of faith, and the
grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. The whole of St. James's
epistle is written to prove their necessity. Hence, the solicitude
of Catholics to abound in them ; for they are taught, and they
know 'that Christ gave Himself for us, that he might redeem
us from all iniquity, and might cleanse us to Himself a people
acceptable, a pursuer <>J good irorkf.'i ' It is a faithful saying
and these things I will have thce affirm constantly ; that they
who believe in God, may be careful to excel in good works.
These things are good and profitable unto men ;' and again, in
writing to the Corinthians, the Apostle continues, 'Now, this 1
* Acts \v. 12. t Matt. v. 16.
t Tit. ii. 14. 4 Tit. iii. 8.
lib FATHE'.l OSWAL.U.
say : he wno sowcth sparing;!}', shall also reap sparingly; antf
lie who soweth in blessings, shall also reap o!' blessings; an<!
God is able to make all grace abound in you; that ye always
having all sufficiency in all things, may abound to every gaod
work.', "*
" Bless me, Sir !" interrupted Harriet, " you have given us
texts enough to make one uncomfortable for a rnon:h ; 1 am sure
I do not remember to have seen one of them in the Scripture."
''Nevertheless, they may all be (bund there. Miss Sefton.''
said Father Oswald smiling; "now, Catholics knowing all
this, and much more lo the same purpose, ' we labour the more,
that bv good works we may make our calling and election sure ;'?
for, as Christ says, Gocl will ' render to every man according ic
his works.' "j
"You speak very strongly, Sir," said the Doctor, " but you
are not aware, perhaps, that Calvinists judge more of the state
of their souls before God by their feelings, than by their works;
.still they attain to a high degree of perfection in works: we
must be born again before we can see the Kingdom of G'o<l, or
make any exertion to please Him; therefr-e we must try our
characters by the dnc given in the Bible, of those born of the
Spirit, ; if we possess the fruits of the Spirit,! we have the
only evidence we can have, that we belong to Christ. The
works, therefore, a Calvinist requires to prove he is even in the
path of safety, are more pure and spiritual than those which
Catholics and ignorant Protestants regard as sufficient to justify
them in the sight of God."
" Bless me, Doctor !" said the General, " I never knew you
were a Calvinist before!"
"Neither am I, Sir," answered the Doctor, gruffly; "but
after I had finished my course of divinity at Oxford, I travelled
for a couple of years with a young nobleman: we spent much
of our time at Geneva, and I made acquaintance with some of
the leading Calvinistical divines there : I imbibed many of tiieir
opinions, to which I ara still in a great degree inclined. thn::gh
I acknowledge that you might live with me long before yon
made the discovery, on account of my endeavouring, as St. Pan. 1
says, ' to make myself constantly all to all.' "
" Humph !" said the General slowly, and taking a very large
pinch of snuff.
" That is no answer to my difficulty, Sir," said the Doctor,
rather impatiently.
"All in good time, Doctor," said the General, deliberately
* 2 Cor. ix. 0. S. t 2 Peter i. 10.
t Matt xvi 27. 4 Ral. v. 22
FATIIEK OSWALD 11*
finishing his pinch of snuff. "You state, I think, that Calvinists,
judge more of the state of their souls before God, by their feel-
ings than by their works; now. I answer, that I conceive/ el-
ing to he a very uncertain and delusive criterion of truth. Our
(eel ings are often too apt to warp our judgment. The wild (ana
tic, and in this land of Bibles, every day some new one starts
up, fcc-'s himself called by Gcd to promulgate to the gaping
multitude his crude conceits F.S the Gospel of the Redeemer : the
deluded enthusia-st/ep/x himself overwhelmed at once by a wring
assunnir.e. The proud Pharisees judged by their feelings, to
whom Christ said. ' You arc they who justify themselves before
men; but Go.f knoweth your hearts: for that which is high to
men. is an abomination before God.' "*
" Yes," said Emma ; "and I think St. Paul did not judge
himself by \\\s fediwa, when he says. '7am not conscious to
myself of any thing, yet I am not hereby justified ; but he that
judges me is the Lord.' "t
" Believe me, Sir," said Father Oswald, " a much safer and
bet'er criterion is to judge ourselves by our works; it is the rule
laid down by Jesus Christ himself: ' A good tree cannot bring
forth evil fruit, neither can an evil tree bring forth good fruit
Every tree that bringeth not forth good fruit, shall be cut down
and shall he cast into the fire; wherefore by their fruits ye shall
know them.'t According to this rule, no man, Protestant or
Catholic, can appeal to ' the fruits of the Spirit until he has
purged his soul irom all the works of the flesh; for a bad tree
cannot bring forth good fruits .' This is the natural order of
proceeding. St. Paul observes this order: 'Now the works of
ihe flesh are manifest. ' and I need not enumerate them. I shall
only recommend to the special consideration of the Bible reader,
the one of A r.'s// , for that is reckoned amongst the works of the
flesh, and with good reason, heresy having always sprung from
men, whose minds were darkened, and hearts corrupted by the
grossest works of the flesh. Now, as long as a man is involved
in heresy, that is, in an obstinate error against faith, ' he shall
not obtain the Kingdom of God,' however much he may boast
10 me of the fruits of the Spirit."
" Then what is meant by the expression, ' To be born of the
Spirit' V said Harriet, petulantly.
' To be born of the Spirit," replied Father Oswald, "signifiei
to receive a new life of grace either by baptism or penance.
Does not Christ say, ' Unless a man be born again of water and
the Holy Ghost, he cannot enter into the kingdom of God' !"\\
" Luke xvi. 15. i 1 Cor. iv. 4. i Matt. vii. 1, 19, 20
t Gal. v 19,20 I John ill. 3
I [8 FATHER OSWALD.
" You are pleased to lie severe, Sir," said the Doctor, waving
his hand : " but the Bible teaches, the faith that unites the soul
to Christ and justifies, necessarily receives from that union His
Spirit to produce that new heart, whose nature it is to bring fcrth
good works; but the Church of Rome con founds the faith which
justifies with its effects, and teaches that in addition to resting
your faith on Christ's finished work of salvation, you must do
so and so yourself; all unscriptural doctrines of the Church of
Rom?."
11 The Catholic Church," replied Father Oswald, "teaches
lhat the ground of all justification is faith in Christ and in all
his doctrines, without which all justification* is impossible, and
that all good works spring from the grace of God, which is in-
fused into our souls. She teaches, moreover, that grace will
not proluce its effects without the consent and co-operation of
the free will of man."
" Prove your words, Sir, if you please," interrupted the Doctor.
" Why. Sir," continued Father Oswald, " is not the Scripture
full o!' exhortations to men 'to hear his voice and harden not
their hearts?' Does not Christ lay it clown as a distinguishing
mark of his sheep, 'that they follow him, because they know
his vo ; ce Tt Read the tender lament of Jesus over the obstinate
city of Jerusalem.! Hence, 'many are called,' but, because
many resist the motions of grace within their souls, 'few are
chosen.' "
" What, then, can be the meaning of justifying grace ';" said
Harriet with a sort ot half groan.
" Vocation to the true fnik is the first great gift, or grace of
God ; but man is not thereby justified," replied Father Oswald ;
" faith alone, though it were great enough to move mountains,
will never justify a man. Man is justified by the grace of God
alone, poured into his soul through the channels of the sacra-
ments ; though the man without faith cannot receive justifying
grace."
" Oh me ! how very puzzling," said Harriet ; i: I am sure I
shall never understand it."
" Have a little patience," said the Father quietly ; "there is
no confusion of ideas in the exposition I have just given; no
* The reader should peruse on this subject so much obscured and per-
verted by the Reformers of the Ifith century the very lucid and satis-
factory explanation of the Catholic doctrine of Justification, contained in
the masterly ' ; Introduction," by the Right Reverend John Hughes, D. JX
Bishop of New York ; prefixed to a work called Catholic Imputation,
written since hi< conversion to the One True Church, by Vnnhrusjh l.iv-
ingstoti. Esq. ; formerly a Protestant of th"3 Episcopal Church of t.V
United States New York : Casserly & Sons.
t lohn x 4. t Malt, xxiii. 37
FATHER OSWALD. 119
confusion of cause with effects; the grace of God is the pn-
mary cause of faith, justification, and woodworks; but the grace
of God would remain without effect, if man refused his assent ;
hence the Apostle says, 'And we helping do exhort you, that
vou receive not the grace of God in vain.'* Christ is the vine-
stock which supplies all the sap and vigour to the blanches, and
enables them to produce the good fruit. This doctrine, so far
from detracting from the perfect redemption of Christ, greatly
enhances it; for Christ our Head still continues to merit in his
members, and will one day, as St. Austin lias it, 'crown in us
his own gifts.' "
Father Oswald paused,
"You have certainly explained it very clearly," said Harriet;
" even I, who am but dull at these matters, can understand it."
" The fundamental error of the Protestant system of justifi-
cation," said Father Oswald, " consists in conceiving that the
stain of original and actual sin remains indelible on the soul of
fallen man, and that man is justified by the righteousness of
Christ, covering over, as with a garment, not obliterating, the
odious stain. It follows of course, on this system, that the best
works of inan are vitiated by the original canker of his soul ;
and it would be difficult to assign a moral difference between
the faith of Peter and the treachery of Judas; hence you are
led to question the efficacy of the sacraments. Truly it is this
system which lessens, if it does not subvert, the perfect redemp-
tion of Jesus Christ."
" Allow me to ask, Sir, what is the Catholic belief on this very
intricate subject 1" said the Doctor somewhat brusquely.
"We hold with St. John," replied Father Oswald, "'that ' the
blood of Jesus Christ cleanxclk us from all szw.'t And with St.
Peter, ' Repent, therefore, and be converted, that your sins may
be blotted oul.'i And with Ananias, who said to St. Paul, ' Rise
up and be baptized, and wash away thy sins.'l ' To cleanse,' to
' blot out,' to ' wash away,' and many similar expressions in Holy
Scripture, convey to the Catholic mind the idea cf a perfect pur-
gation and abolition of the stain of sin. Nor can we conceive
how the guilt of sin, as long as it exists, can be concealed from
the penetrating eye of God ; nor how the soul, marked with
Ihe plague-spot of sin, can be just, holy, and acceptable to God.
Hence^ we believe in the cflicscy of the sacraments of baptism
and penance, as the channels instituted by Christ to convey his
Justifying grace to our souls : thus being cleansed by the opera-
tion of sacraments, and sanctified by ' the charity of God poured
li)r!h in our hearts.'ll we are considered capable of producing
* 2 Cor. vi. 1. t i Jolm i. 7. t Acts iii. i9.
4 Acts xxii 16 II Rom. v. 5.
IVU . FATHER OSWALD.
holy and meritorious works; and this indeed peaces the perfec-
tion of redemption in its brightest light."
" I think I have understood all you have said," added Harriet
thoughtfully
" But what shall I say," continued the Father, " of the con-
tradictions and confusion of ideas in the heads of these Evan-
gelicals 1 They tell me that ' faith alone justifies me.' 13u?
this faith in Christ, this believing in Christ, is an act of my own
soul."
" To be sure, Sir, to besure, Sir; it is an act of each individ-
ual soul," said Doctor Davison eagerly
" But how is that act excited and produced in the soul ?" said
Father Oswald. i; Is it by my own exertions solely, or by the co-
operation of my soul with the grace of God ; or by the grace of
God solely 1 If you answer, by my own exertions solely, then
1 become-my own saviour; if by the grace of God solely, then
't is the grace of God, and not faith, that justifies; and as I can
Jo nothing of myself, it is useless to make any exertion, it is in
vain tor you to exhort; I have nothing more to do than to sit
doivn quietly, and enjoy myself, until it shall please the Almighty
to send me down this saving assurance. If you answer, by the
co-operation of my soul with the grace of God, why then you
become Catholics."
" But, my good Sir," persisted the Doctor, " we cannot meril
grace, we cannot merit grace. No exertions on our part can
nave the slightest efficacy in justifying our souls before God.
A perfect righteousness only can justii'y ; ours is never perfect ;
thereibre it is on the perfect righteousness of Christ that we can
rest our hopes of justification."
" Grace," replied Father Oswald, "is no doubt a gratuitous
gift of God, noways due to any preceding works. ' If by grace,
it is not now by works; otherwise grace is no more grace.'*
Though no man can merit the grace of justification by his own
works, Christ has merited it for all men, 'For all have sinned,
and do need the glory of God, being justified freely by His grace,
through the redemption that is in Christ Jesus.'t God. through
the merits of Jesus Christ, gives to all men sufficient grace to
bring them, if they reject not the grace, ' to the knowledge ol
the truth,' and to justification by faith and baptism."
" How very beautiful the Catholic doctrine is on this subject,"
exclaimed Emma.
" When once justified," continued the Father, " that is, brought
into the state of habitual grace, they still need the influx of ac-
vual grace to excite them, and help them to the performance ot
* Horn i. (5. tRooi.iii.2J.
FATHER OSWALD. 121
good wti\s, ' For ii is God who worketh both to will and to ac-
complish.. VLuruinjT to His good will.'* The good works now
i'.one in IV. s'Ktt' of grace are meritorious, as proceeding from
the fructifying grace of Jesus Christ ; and merit an increase of
grace in this world, and a crown of glory in the next. But if
by mortal sin a man tails from the state oi' grace, all his works
aie again dead, and he again stands in need of a gratuitous help
from God, to bring him to repentance "
"If the sinners 1 justification," said the Doctor, " depends on
their having been found to obey any law, then they have saved
themselves; ' but if Christ is their Saviour, then He must be a
complete Saviour. If a person ventures to the judgment-seat to
be judged by the pure law of Christ, he mm;/ perish. If we be-
lieve in Christ :or our justification, then we are dead to the law,
as He has obeyed it ibr us, and we are all complete in Him."
"Bravo! bravissimo!" exclaimed ihe General, rubbing his
hands; " here is, indeed, a glorious emancipation from all law!
just what I said in my sermon. I knew I was preaching the
right doctrine, to say nothing of the pure law of Christ ; tor if
we presume to observe thnl, we -are jusi told we must all perish.
Yet I thought at least the ten commandments were obligatory on
all men. even Evangelicals. But, no ; I have quite mistaken the
whole Gospel, and God's perfect method of saving souls. The
next new edition of the Bible will require many corrections; but
I particularly recommend to the care of the printer's devil, to
put in the little word not, where any thing good is commanded,
and to leave it out, where any thing evil is prohibited. By ob-
serving this rule, he will hardly add or take away a single iota
from the Word of God. It will then be very pleasant to read:
'Thou shall kill. Thou shall commit adultery. Thou shall
steal.' Or more compendiously, ' If thou wilt enter into life,
ieep not the commandments.' "
" Really, General Russell, your boisterous sallies carry you
Beyond all bounds of discretion," interrupted the Doctor warmly ;
''it's too bad to speak of such serious matters in so light and
absurd a tone/'
" I beg your pardon, my good friend," replied the General :
" I have said nothing hall' so absurd as your propositions. I
have only said what I could in my poor way, to show you the
fatal consequences of the said ibolish propositions."
" Yes," said Faiher Oswald /irmly; " it is from these misun-
derstoic! ideas of justification and' predestination, that have
flowed the rnosi dreadful crimes which have disgraced human
nature. "Who can recount the wild eiithusk.sm,the desponding
* Phil i:. 12
122 FATHER OSWALD.
insanity, the fearful despair, the dreadful suicides, of which they
have been the teeming parents'? Happy are those, who roposfl
in the bosom of the true Church, and are content to work ou
thair salvation with ' fear and trembling.' "
" ' No more ; where ignorance is bliss,
'Tis folly to bo wise '.' "
exclaimed Harriet: "I always thought that good works Tens
not available in obtaining salvation, andthat /<7Ain Christ was
sufficient to save the soul ; this is what I call comfortable doc-
trine; and now you Catholics tell me this is an error, in con-
tradiction to St. Paul's plainest declaration, \ha\f<tti/i in Christ
alone is sufficient."
' St. Paul nowhere says," replied the General, that " faith in
Christ alone is sufficient to save us. Martin Luther, indeed,
the fifth Evangelist of Wirtemberg, says so in his German
Bib!e. Of course he knew oetter than St. Paul !"
"And," added Father Oswald, "what says St .lames'?
"What shall it profit, my brethren if a man say he hath faith,
but hath not works 1 shall faith be able to save him 1' '"*
" And., oh ! dearest Harriet," sa id Emma very earnestly, " do
not say it is bliss to be ignorant of the only one thing necessary
for you; do not wilfully shut your eyes to the lij.-hl of divine
grace, which is now beaming around you. Follow it steadily;
it will conduct you to the true Church, out of which then; is no
salvation for the wilful heretic. Alas! if you leiec.' the grace
now offered you, you may rue it for a long, long e'crniiy of woe."
" Dear Emma," said Harriet, " if I really tho^ht tnat would
be the certain consequence, I would give myself a little troublf
about it; but you may depend upon it, all real Christians differ
inerely in words."
" Catholics of course are excluded," said the General, smiling,
"from the denomination of real Christians; and if I do not
much mistake, Biblicals alone are comprehended. Now, as
these nil agree in Lh". words of Hoi}" Scripture, while each one
has the high privilege of understanding them as he pleases,
there can be no difference amongst them inwards merely; bu'.
if ' contentions, quarrels, dissensions,' and other works of the
flesh, rise amongst them, it must be about the tiling $ signified
by the words."
" Well," said Harriet thoughtfully, " I was born and bred in
the Protestant Church to be sure, arid I never have thought very
much about the matter ; but sometimes it has come into my
* James li. 14.
FATHER OSWALD. 123
Read, that all our ancestors, and we have had a good long pedi-
gree, were Catholics. They never changed before two or three
hundred years ago; but now it is another story: there are very
J'e\v Catholics, I believe, in Britain, in proportion to the number
ot Protestants and Dissenters, there must be some reason.' lot
that."
" To be sure," said the General, " there is a very good reason
for it ; because they like the broad and flowery road thatleadeth
to destruction, and not the ' narrow path,' which the Lord Jesus
tells us, leads to life. But with regard to the number of Cath-
olics in Britain, Miss Seiton, 1 think you are labouring under a
mistake; they are much more numerous than you think, and
are every year rapidly increasing. No, no; believe me, that in
Britain, the Roman Catholic faith is not yet forgotten ; though
her ancient, fine, and magnificent places of worship be in ruins,
they are not yet stript of the character they once bore and
though dedicated to another worship, they retain too much ol
their ancient form, not to recal continually the ancient faith : her
doctrines are held, I know, as too absurd to be professed by
those, ' who blaspheme what they do not know,' and who look
upon her ancient and magnificent service as unmeaning cere-
monies; but she is ever ready to explain them to those who
wish to regard her increasing members as brothers and fellow-
countrymen, and boldly to defend her claim to unchangeableneKS
and infallibility against the accusations of her enemies ; for the
Catholic Church exhibits even in her thus humbled stale, the
brightest evidence of an Almighty power, that has borne her
vriumphant through three centuries of the bitterest persecution."
" The sight of those fine old cathedrals, and the splendid
ruins of so many beautiful monasteries, which were built by
Catholics and originally belonged to them, have certainly very
often struck me, !: said Harriet; "I once knew a person who
became a Catholic in consequence of going over the Cathedra!
of Durham, which you know is a beautiful specimen of fine old
Saxon architecture: well, the beadle of the church was showing
all the curiosities to this acquaintance of mine, and, arno!:ir.-;
other things, the vestments and priests' copes, I think you call
them, which had belonged to the Catholics; she asked him
what use was made of these things: he answered, none, lliat
they belonged to the old religion ; now my friend thru-Tit an.-;:
this, and came to the conclusion, that the old religio;. w;;s inor*
likely to be the true religion than the new one, and she went to
a Catholic priest to ask him the difference between the o'>d
religion and the new one, and in a few weeks she became ?
Catholin."
124 FATHER OSWALD.
" Go you, my dear lady, and do likewise," said Father Oswa.d
smiling very benignantly; "and oh! let all true Christians
pray that the light of truth, the light of divine revelation, may
continue to extend its beams, till it overcomes all the darkness
of Protestants and infidels, dispel ling from their understandings
the clouds of ignorance and prejudice; and that the divine grace
may soften their hearts and render them docile to the truth, so
that they may be reunited to the only true Catholic and Apos-
lolic Church, of which Christ is the living Head, to whom every
Jiving member is united by that ' faith which purifieth the heart,
and worketh by love.' "
There was a pause, interrupted only by Dr. Davison rising,
wishing them good-night, and taking his candle; in which
operation he let fall the snuffers and extinguisher, and fumbled
for them so long under the table, that Harriet at length offered
to assist him. Emma and her uncle exchanged glances; a few
minutes after the Doctor had made his exit, the clock struck
eleven, and the little party dispersed for the night.
CHAPTER XV.
" Ye good distressed !
tfe noble fe%v ! who here unbending stind
Beneath life's pressure, ye 1 ^nar up a whi e,
And what your bounded vie, which only *a\v
A little part, deerneil evil, is no more ;
The storms of wintry Time "ill quickly puss,
And one unbounded Spring encircle all.'' THOMSON.
IN a few days the severity of the weather was sensibly miti-
gated, and the much wished-for thaw rapidly followed. The
Doctor lost no time in profiting of the first moment in. which the
roads became passable, and with great glee took leave of the
little partv at the Hall, to return 10 the parsonage ' He had
already received a letter from Mr. Sefton, thanking him lor his
exertions, and hinting at Church promotion, if he could but
succeed in the much-desired object of bringing back his wife to
Protestantism. He mentioned also that he wished her as a. last
experiment to have an interview with his very particular friend,
the Lord Bishop of S , who he expected would pass by
Sefton Hall in a short time, on his way to the North, to look
after the tithes of a rich rectory worth 2,000 a year, which he
FATHER OSWALD. 135
neld in commemlam. Though the Doctor had received this let-
ter before he left the Hall, he said not one word about it, from
the fear that Harriet might wish him to remain longer lo help
her to receive the Bishop. When safely and snugly seated by
his own fire-side, he wrote to Mr. Sefton, saying he had been
obliged to return to the parsonage, but expressed Ins hopts that
the Bishop of S might be more successful with Mrs. Seiton
than he had been ; at the same lime, maintaining his decided
opinion, that she never would relinquish the religion she had
embraced, and again recommending conciliatory measures. In
a few weeks, Harriet received a letter from her brother, which
both provoked and annoyed her extremely ; inasmuch as it an-
nounced the arrival in a few days of the Lord Bishop of S
and his ladv, Mrs. Boren, with all the little Borens, and their
nurserv-maids, lady's-maids, footmen, valets, coachmen and
horses, to pass a night at Sefton Hall on their road to the North,
with an express desire, that they should all be treated wilh the
gre; test attention and hospitality.
"Upon my word! and a nice little modest suite too for a
Bishop ; quite apostolic," said the General, laughing, as Harriet,
in order to give vent lo her vexation, read aloud to him at break-
fast that paragraph of her brother's letter.
" I really think my brother has gone out of his mind," added
she ; " what is to be done. General ? And then the disturbance
it will be to poor Emma, now especially that she is really begin-
ning to tret a little better."
" Say nothing to her about it, Miss Harriet, till they are all
in the house, or going out of it ; and then pass it off as an acci-
dental occurrence."
"Not so easily done as you think, my good General," said
Harriet with a perplexed air ; " you don't know what this Bishop
is coming here lor."
" To make this house an inn on his way '.o the North, I
suppose V
"No, no," said Harriet smiling; "that may perhaps be one
reason ; but the principal object of this invasion is to make Mrs.
Seflon renounce Cathol city."
"Folly! worse than lolly!" exclaimed the General indig-
nantly; "as you yourself must ere this be fullv aware."
" Yes; I think any other attempt in thai respect is quite use-
less," replied Harriet with a sigh.
" I'll tell you what, Miss Seiton. "ss id the General."! am
quite determined upon one thing, and it is this; that if your
brother makes no conciliatory advances towards reconciliation
witl> his wile the moment she is strong enough to bear the
126 FATHER OSWALD.
motion of a carriage, I shall have her removed to Weetwood
and take charge of her myself, till such time as Mr. Sefton
comes to his senses."
" Oh! dear Sir," said Harriet with a look of great distress
"it will only widen the breach and make matters worse."
11 1 am of a different opinion, my dear Madam."
At this moment John opened the door, and told the General
that his mistress wished to speak to him when breakfast was
finished. When the General answered the summons, he found
Emma in tears, with an open letter in her hand she gave it to
her uncle to read , it was couched in severe terms, reproaching
her lor the little attention she had paid to Dr. Davison's exhor-
tations, and consequently the little affection and care she had
for her husband and his happiness ; and concluded with offering
her, as a last alternative, the retraction of her errors privately
in the hands of his very particular friend the Bishop of S ,
whom he had commissioned to ascertain her final determination
on the subject. There was not a single touch of tenderness to
mitigate the harshness of the entire letter. Poor Emma's feel-
ings were deeply wounded. Her uncle did all in his power to
compose and encourage her under this severe trial ; but he saw
she was not then susceptible of human consolation, and there-
fore wisely endeavoured to excite her submission to the divine
will, and to animate her courage to receive and embrace, for
the love of God, this naked Cross dipped in gall. He took
down the little crucifix, which hung by her bed-side, and placed
it on her bieast; and then quietly retiring from the room, left
her to seek consolation from Jesus alone. In the afternoon
he returned, and though he found her very pale, and extremely
exhausted, yet she seemed perfectly calm, and even cheerful.
She conversed with him on the subject of the letter, and asked
his advice, whether she should answer it or not: he advised her
not to write, but to give her final answer to the Bishop, as her
husband wished ; adding, that it was his opinion she would do
well to make her interview with the Bishop as short and as de-
cided as possible. The General then told her his wish : that she
should go and reside with him at Weetwood, until such time
as a reconciliation could be brought about. Emma looked up,
and smiled at him gratefully through her tears, which flowed at
the thoughts of leaving the home of which she had been so lately
the happy mistress; but she agreed to accept his kind proposal
as soon as she was well enough to travel. In the meantime,
Harriet informed the butler and housekeeper of the expected
intrusion, and of their master's orders, that the guests should
be treated wi'.h distinction ; all was soon bustle, and grumble
SV.TIIER OSWALD. 15JV
and preparation ; Out Harriet could not resist, from time lo
lime, venting her vexation with most sincere sympathy in
Emma's room at all this useless trouble and commotion. In a
day or two from this time, the expected party arrived I'or s. seven
o'clock dinner, (or which, however, they were not ready till near
eight, as Mrs. Boren should see that all the little Borens had a
proper allowance of bread and milk, and were in train for
going 'o bed, before she could make her appearance in the
dining-room. The Bishop was a man about fiity, of a grave
aspect, stately in his manners and pompous in his words. The
dinner went off rather stillly, for Harriet was out of humour,
and the General did not care to make himself agreeable. After
dinner, as the Prelate was sipping his rosolio, he inquired it
Mrs. Sei'ton would wish to see him that evening, adding, in the
same sentence, that he thought the visit might, perhaps, be more
convenient to the lady if made the next day.
" You cannot possibly see my niece to-night, my Lord." said
the General bluntly ; " she is. no doubt, by this time in bed, and
I am just going up-stairs to wish her good-night."
" I'm afraid we are rather late, indeed/' said Mrs. Boren care-
lessly ; " the roads were in such a horrid state, and the Bishop
does not like travelling earlv."
The General le!t the room, and the Bishop, turning to Har-
riet, said, " Miss Seftcn, could you accommodate us with a pack
of cards 1 It is an invariable custom with myself and Mrs.
Boren lo play every evening a game at picquet; it has been so
ever since our union, and there is nothing like keeping up good
old customs; besides, these littl\: mutual condescensions are of
infinite use in preserving the amiable sociabilities of the mar-
riage slate."
Mrs. Boren simpered.
Harriet rose, and slowly opening the drawer of a little cabi-
net, produced cards and counters; she then rung forlhe servant
t'> arrange the card-table, and settled herself to her work
While the Bishop was shuffling the cards, he put sundry queries
to Harriet concerning Mrs. Sei'lon's state of health, which she
answered as laconically as was consistent with politeness.
" Before seeing this unfortunate, misled lady," continued ihj
Prelate, " I should wish to have your unbiassed opinion, Miss
Sefton, as to any probability of success in Ihe delicate commis-
sion consigned to my execuiion by my excellent and zealous
friend. Selton ; you, my dear Madam, I am given to understand,
are fully aware of its vital importance."
" I understand, my Lord, thai my brother has commissioned
you to receive Mrs, Sefton's answer as to whether she is will-
128 FATHER OSWALD.
ing to renounce '.he Catholic religion, or not," answered Hanie:
coolly.
"Pieciscly so, Miss Sefton, precisely so," answered the
Bishop ; " now do you think I have any reasonable chance ol
success, or not V
''I think," said Harriet, looking up from her work, and
shading her head. *you may save yourself much unnecessary
trouble."
The L">rd Bishop of S looked surprised. " Why so. Mad-
am '! I d j not understand you," said he, laying down his cards.
" To explain myself seriously then," continued Harriet, " 1 do
not think that Mrs. Sefton will ever renounce the Catholic reli-
gion, which she has embraced from a conscientious conviction
that it is the only true one."
"No, no, Ma'am," interrupted the Prelate, " Mrs. Sefton has
not become a Catholic from any solid conviction of the truth ;
that can never be ; but from a foolish perversion of a weak
understanding. She has allowed herself to be led astray by tha
specious sophistry of some crafty priest. If she were better
informed of the errors of Popery, and the purity of the reformed
religion, it might be otherwise. I fear Dr. Davison has been
very negligent, or he would have opened her eyes before this to
the evident illusions into which she has been led by deep, de-
signing, and dangerous people."
" I can assure you, my Lord Bishop," said Harriet, warmly,
"your surmises are any thing but right. In the first place, I
know Mrs Sefton is a well-inlormed woman, of sound judgment
and acute penetration. She has read much, and is well instruc-
ted in religious matters, so that I am persuaded she has not taken
her resolution, and sacrificed all her earthly feelings, without
the fullest conviction. In the next place, I know that Dr. Da-
vison has taken immense pains and trouble in the matter, and
has exerted all the strength of reason and authority to convince
her of her errors, but in vain; Dr. Davison cannot be blamed,
I assure you."
Harriet said this with great feeling, anxious to exculpate her
old Iriend.
" Well, my dear Miss Sefton," subjoined the Bishop, "grant-
ing for a moment what you say to be true, she has still been
under tlie influence of her uncle, and, what is much worse, under
the influence of a certain Jesuit, who lives, I understand, some-
where in this neighbourhood, of the name of Oswald."
" I know Mr. Oswald very well ; he is a very clever, pious,
and charitable man," replied Harriet, <: and, I am sure, a very
sincere and good Christian. General Russell, to be sure, is
FATHER OSWALD. li) 1 *
rather a rough antagonist, and I can assure you, Sir, it was very
distressing for me to behold Dr Davison knocked about like a
shuttlecock between two battledores; still, I am certain rf one
thing, that no human influence made Emma become a Catholic,
poor thing! and no one shall ever persuade me to the contrary."
" You little know the wiles of Jesuitism. Madam," said ihr
Bishop warmly, as he dealt the cards.
" Take care, my love, or you will miss the deal," said Mrs.
Boren.
" I hope, Miss Sefton," continued the Bishop, " their sophistry
has not undermined your faith."
" No fear of that, my Lord," said Harriet, " for I do not think
it matters much what opinions we hold, provided we live a good
life. This, however, 1 ran assure your Lordship, that while Dr.
Davison was speaking I was fulls persuaded he was in the
right; then, when Mr. Oswald was speaking, it seemed to me
he was also in the right. How could I judge between them 1
so methought it was test not to trouble myself about it."
" Beware, Miss Sefton," replied the Bishop; "it is astonish-
ing and most alarming, the incalculable damage done to the
Church by the active fanaticism of those missionary Jesuits."
" Yes," lisped out Mrs. Boren ; " they will not hesitate to com-
mit any crime for the service of their cause."
" You are pleased to be complimentary, my good lady," ex-
claimed the General, who had, unperceived by her, at that mo-
ment entered the room ; ' : if the poor Jesuits heard you, I fear
you would make them proud; they are too apt to rejoice 'when
they are counted worthy to suffer reproach for the name of
Jesus.' "*
" La !" said Mrs. Boren. " I thought, Sir, you had gone to
wish Mrs. Sefton good-night."
' And I have done so, Ma'am," said the General, " and she
sends her compliments, desiring me to express her wishes that
you and the Bishop will ask Ibr whatever you want for your-
selves and your family."
'' I am sure we are infinitely obliged," said the lady.
<; Point, quint, and quartorze !" exclaimed the Bishop, display-
ing his cards.
The clock struck eleven, and Harriet proposed to the travel-
lers to retire, as they might probably be fatigued with their
journey.
The next morning the Bishop of S had an interview
with Mrs. Sefton. He was not a little surprised at the calm and
simple dignity wilh which she received him. The Bishop
* Acts v. 41
12
130 FATHER OSWALD.
jegan in a mild manner to expostulate with her on the infatua-
Von, as lie called it, of plunging herself and family into an
ibvss of misery, and of forcing her worthy husband to flee from
her presence, and from his own house.
" Ah ! Sir," said Mrs. Sefton with great meekness, but with
evident emotion, as the big tear started from her eye, i; no one
could eel the cruel pang more deeply than I do myself; yet the
sufferings of this brief life, however acute, must weigh as a
leather when placed in the balance with the interests of eternity."
" Do not deceive yourself," said the Bishop with a kind and
soothing tone of voice; "may not the interests of eternity be
sadly com f >i umtsed by a wilful and obstinate disobedience to
him, to whom you have bound yourself by your marriage vow V
" My conscience,'' said Emma with meek firmness, " does not
reproach me with disobedience in any one thine: that a husband
may command. God knows my heart, how ready I am at this
moment to render him in a tenfold degree, all the love, respect,
and obedience that I have hitherto rendered him, if he would
only permit me to enjoy the liberty of 'conscience which he him-
self so loudly vindicates "
"Perhaps, my dear Madam," insinuated the Bishop in the
same bland manner, " you may mistake the true nature of liberty
of conscience; a licentiousness of thought and conduct is often
cloaked under that name. You must be aware that God himself,
cannot sanction in man the profession of error and superstition."
: ' That, Sir, is precisely the reason which determined me to
renounce the errors of Protestantism, and to embrace the truth
of Catholicism."
" Madam," replied the Bishop with some degree of warmth,
"'you misname things egregiously; what you call errors are
pure Gospel truths ; what you deem truths, are the pernicious
errors of Popery, rank idolatry, and frightful blasphemy ; such
you would have found them, had you read your Bible with at-
tention."
" I have read the Bible, Sir, and studied it to the best o( my
power, and the more I read, the more I am convinced of the
truth of Catholicity."
" You ought not, my dear Madam," said the Bishop more
soothingly, '-to rely too much on your own judgment; ycur too
vivid imagination may too easily lead you astray. On so im-
portant a step you ought to have listened to the voice of- ycur
legitimate pastors, who have been placed by the Holy Ghost to
rule the Church of God."
" For that very reason," said Emma, smiling somewhat
archly, " 1 applied to the legitimate pastors of that Church, which
FATHER OSWALD. 131
received the divine commission fifteen hundred years before the
self-constituted pastors of Protestantism were heard of."
The Bishop seeing he had no chance of making any impres-
sion on her, rose to withdraw, when Mrs. Sefton declared to
him in the most formal terms, her firm and final determination to
live and die a Catholic. The Bishop, fully convinced he could
do no more, was secretly as much desirous of shortening the inter-
view as herself. Mrs. Sefton then begged him to interpose his
pood otiices with her husband, to induce him to a reconciliation,
but he gave her little hopes of succeeding, and thus the meet-
ing ended. Alter a hot luncheon, the whole episcopal suite
was again in progress towards the North, to the no small relief
of Harriet and the General.
This additional mortification retarded the convalescence of
Emma: her natural yearnings towards her children and daily
rnxiety about them, she endured with resignation to the will of
Clod as a Christian, but she could not feel them mitigated as a
i lother. She often and often tried to persuade Harriet to go
3 ml join her brother in Devonshire, and then she would add
rith a sigh, " perhaps I might suffer less about my babies if
iuey were under your eye ;" when Harriet would reply smiling,
" You know, dearest Emma, I am not fond of children, bin if
you would only make haste and get well, I don't know what I
might do to please you."
Harriet flattered herself, as people will flatter themselves
through the medium of a little self-love, that if skf could s?e her
brother, she might have influence enough with him to induce
him to consent to a reconciliation with his wife. In the mean-
while, Emma's health improved so much, that about the middle
of March, she was able to bear the removal toWeetwood, to the
great satisfaction of the General, who did all in his power to
settle her there as comfortably and peaceably as circumsiances
Mould permit ; her mind, loo, was much soothed and relieved
by the kindness of Harriet, who. immediately on her removal,
left Sefton Hall, and joined her brother and his little family at
Eagleues; Cottage, in Devonshire.
132 FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XVI.
" What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted ?
Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just ;
And he but naked, though locked up in steel,
Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted." SKAKSPEAKK
TIIR thread of our story now obliges us to follow the devious
wanderings of Mr. Sefton, while we leave his forsaken and
a/llicted wife to pursue the even tenour of her life under the hos-
pitable roof of Weetwood. There she offered up daily at the
throne of mercy her fervent supplications for the welfare of her
husband and of her children ; many and many a time in the day
and night would the ardent aspiration burst from her heart, that
the Father of lights might in His mercy pour down on him and
on them His first best gift the knowledge of the truth; that they
might with one heart and one mind worship together at the same
altar, and live again in holy peace and domestic happiness.
The arrival of Harriet at Eaglenest Cottage, caused Mr. Sef-
ton many painful and conflicting emotions, for he had not seen
her since his separation from his wife ; and Harriet did not fail
to speak her mind very freely to him with entire disapprobation
of his conduct. However lie might be sensible of the truth of
his sister's remarks, his pride prevented him from acknowledging
himself in the wrong; he became every i la y more and more
unhappy. In the secret of his inmost heart he wished to forgive
Emma, but the thoughts that the world might attribute this lenity
to weakness, and that his more rigid Protestant friends might
not approve it, chilled the justice of his better feelings. He
sternly resolved net to forgive her; but this resolution, instead
of bringing him peace as he had hoped, made him positively
miserable, and had an evident effect in producing moroseness
in his manners, and irritation in his temper. Ho loved Emma
even passionately, and the yearnings of his affection towards
her frequently caused him excessive mental angubh and r^jret ,
in vain he struggled with his feelings; the more he tried to per-
suade himself he was acting rightly, the more miserable he was;
hi; could scarcely bear the sight of his children, and when the
little prattlers named " Mamma," he would rush out of the house,
and pace for hours along the sea-shore in the greatest agitation.
One day he heard his friend the Bishop of S a.ution his
intention of making a tour on the Continent, for the Lenctt of
giving a travelling linish to his eldest son and daughti i : the for-
mer a captain in the arm}', ou leave of absence. The Hca&ud-
FATHER OSWALD. 133
denly struct Selton, that it would he an excellent step Id himself
to take; that travelling would divert and improve his mind, and
that his absence from England would be a still greater trial to
Emma. Accordingly, a few days alter, he resolved to travel,
and promised the Bishop to meet him in Italy ere the Autuno
was over. Sefton persuaded Harriet to take charge of his babes,
and in less than a fortnight from the time he had first thought on
the suliject, he was sailing over the 'sunny sea,' between Dover
and Calais. True it is, that his heart was sunk in a pro.ound
melancholy, and that his conscience bitterly reproached him
with abandoning his wife and family in that manner; but still
me novelty of the scenes around him diverted his imagination
in spite of himself. When he landed on the French shore, he
was forcibly struck by the characteristic and national difference
in the persons, manners, and dress of all around him. He, for
sometime, stood gazing on the scenes that passed rapidly before
him, in a sort of a dreaming philosophical study upon what
might be the origin and cause of so striking a difference in the
inhabitants of the Gallic and British shores, separated by so
short a distance, until he was roused by the rueful I'ace of his
valet, Luigi, who inquired if he would not like to go to ihe hotel.
The poor valet had suffered from the sea, and seemed to think
the most sensible and practical philosophy at that time would
consist in the comfort to be drawn from a good basin of French
soup. At the same moment Mr. Sefton was attacked by some
half-dozen of dirty ragged French porters, all solicitous for the
honour of his employment; some trying to attract his attention
in one way, some in another; some stuffing cards into his hands,
recommending the hotels by which they were employed, others
declaring this way was the way Monsieur ought to go, and more
that Monsieur ought to go the opposite way, that Monsieur
would be sure to be imposed upon and ill-served. At length
Luigi succeeded in obtaining -something like silence, and in
making his master understand that his luggage had already been
conveyed to Dessin's Hotel. With some difficulty, Sefton
escaped from his zea.ous pursuers, and soon found himself in a
quiet and elegant little apartment, with Monsieur De.?sin before
him making his best bow, and offering every imaginable kind
of civility. Sefton ordered a late dinner, and having done so,
soon after left the hotel, to explore the curiosities and peculiari-
ties of Calais; he amused himself with walking in all directions
for a couple of hours, and then began to think of retracing his
steps to the inn. As he passed through one of the quaint and
narrow streets, he observed a low and antique-looking building,
and heard the sounds of solemn music issue from its open door;
12*
134 FATHER OSWALD.
Eclwar i's curiosity was excited, and lie entered. Ir was a chnrcft
the Blessed Sacrament, was exposed on the high altar, incense
was circling in clouds around it, and the last dying strains of the
" Tantum Ergo" were falling from the lips of the assembled
peasants. It was the first time Edward had been in a Catholic-
church : he was surprised to see the religion he so thoroughly
hated and despised, publicly professed and respected; yeF, in
spite of his mingled sentiments of pride and dislike, he could
not help being struck with the air of lender piety and respect: ul
awe of all around him. When the religious rites were ended,
he examined the church with curious eyes, and with not a lew
mental aspirations of contempt at what he conceived supersti-
tious objects. As he drew near the door, he observed a French
lem'ale peasant about thirty, with a high Normandy cap and
sunburnt cheeks, kneeling before an altnr over which was placed
an antique marble image of the Blessed Virgin and her Divine
Son, upon whicti the rich golden rays of the setting sun were
casting their last effulgent beams through one of the gothic win-
dows at the end of the church. The peasant was teaching her
little girl to join her hands in prayer before the image of Jesus
and Mary. Edward approached them, and, with his best French,
politely asked in a low voice what holiday it was.
" It is no holiday at all, Sir," answered the young woman,
without raising her eyes.
" No holiday ! then why is the church open V
" In order that we may praise the good God, and pray to
Him."
" But what is all this ceremony I have just seen 7"
" It is the evening benediction," said the peasant, raising her
dark eyes to look at the interrogator, while an evanescent smile
of pity, mingled with a little satire, dimpled round her lips as
she added, " Monsieur must know that good Christians should
pray to God on Mondays as well as on Sundays."
Edward felt a little confused, he knew not why; he bowed
slightly to his new acquaintance, and hastily left the church.
"What a pity, Mamma," said the little French child io her
mother " that so fine a gentleman does not know his Catechism
better !"
" Hush, my dear," replied the good countrywoman, "let us
recommend him to our Lady," and they breathed a silent prayer
to the mother of divine love for the salvation of the passing
stranger.
When Edward reached his hotel, he found the dinner ready,
and a blazing wood fire in the dining-room: every thing was
e-xceiient, even elegant, but he )^lt an indescribable melancholy
FATHER OSWALD. 135
Emma au-i he had often anticipated the pleasures of a short ex-
cui.r:n to ihe Continent: Edward was now enjoying that pleas-
ure, lut Emma was not with him ; and why was not the loved
one with him 1 He stifled the thought without answering it ;
but memory was busy in recalling her gentle and lovely lorm,
and imagination in suggesting what pleasure he should have had
in the enjoyment of her bland arid lively conversation. With
an involuntary sigh he took up the last French papers and seated
himself by the fire. It was a time of great public interest in
France, being early in the spring of 1830, when every thing
portended an approaching crisis. Edward determined to ob-
serve the progress of events, but not to mingle in politics, a
resolution more easily made than kept by one of his ardent tem-
perament. Happy for him had he adhered to this prudent re-
solve, "car les occasions nenous rendent pas fragiles, maiselles
font voir combien nous le sommcs.' 1 The Church clock struck
eleven; Selton took his candle, and, ordering Luigi to call
him at seven o'clock, he retired to rest. Very early the fol-
lowing morning he was roused by the ringing of bells and the
hum of many voices, and, opening (he window-shutter, was
surprised to see that though it was still dusk, the street was
thronged with people. He tried to sleep again, but could not,
and. in the vexation of his spirit muttered to himself, " If such
a nuisance existed in England, it would soon be indicted." At
length Luivji appeared, and his master called out in no very pa-
tient voice to know what holiday it was which occasioned such
an early noise and bustle amongst the inhabitants 7
" It is no holiday, Sir," answered Luigi ; " the tells are only
inging for the first masses."
" What foolery !" exclaimed Edward indignantly.
"But, Sir, the poor people like to hear mass before they go
to their day's work," expostulated Luigi.
" Pshaw!" bring some hot water, and get ready to start for
Paris immediately; I have had quite enough of this vile place. 1 '
Luigi was an Italian and a Catholic, and he could not help
giving a slight shrug of his shoulder at his master's burst of
indignation against the good practice of hearing mass in the
morning; however, he said nothing, but quietly withdrew, tt
execute the orders he had just received. In a few more hours,
he was travelling as fast as iour French horses could canter on
the road to Paris.
Soon after Mr. Sefton's arrival in the gay metropolis, whithei
ne journeyed to drown his reflection, he settled himself in a com-
fortable and elegant lodging in the Rue de la Paix, and the day
alter, delivered the letters of introduction which he had brought
13$ FATHER OSWALD.
for several French and English families of distinction. Amongst
these letters there was one lor a Monsieur La Harpe, an eminent
literary character, and a relation of the celebrated La Harpe,
\vho figured in the Revolution of 1792, and afterwards atoned
for his fanaticism and his errors to the best of his power by his
exertions in the cause of religion and literature. With the gen-
tleman to whom he presented his letter, Edward soon formed a
considerable intimacy, and many of their mornings were spent
together. Monsieur La Harpe accompanied him to the church-
es and institutions the best worth seeing in Paris, to St. Denis,
ana to Pere L:-i Chaise: still there was such a total dissimilari-
ty in their opinions and sentiments on religion and politics, thai
it prevented their acquaintance ripening into the more congenial
feelings of friendship. La Harpe was strongly in favour of thf
reigning sovereign, and he trembled for the fate of religion and
his country in the political and infidel ferment which he knew
to he silently but surely working for the destruction of the for-
mer, under the pretext of regenerating the latter. Sefion laughed
at his apprehensions, and spared not the most bitter sarcasms
against those who wished to maintain what he conceived an
erroneous system of religion : yet he was by principle a royal-
ist and abhorred the idea of a revolution, unless effected quietly,
and solely for the subversion of despotism and bigotry.
Monsieur La Harpe was also frequently piqued ai.d annoyed
wilit the unsparing and even harsh manner in which Mr. SeSton
criticised and abused every thing relative to the Catholic reli-
gion ; he was astonished, too, at his gross ignorance of the tenets
customs, rites, and history of that religion, which, nevertheless
hs seemed to have a peculiar zest in maligning. At first Ln
Harpe endeavoured to explain things to him, and then Edward
proceeded from objections to sheer abuse, which very much dis-
gusted his new acquaintance, and thus their intercourse gradu-
ally became less frequent; not, however, without the secre'
regret of Edward, who, notwithstanding his errors an : . preju-
dices, had a great admiration for talent wherever he met with it
To drown recollection, Sefton next tried gaiety, and plungee
into the dissipation of the highest circles, and all the heartless
tr.lling of what is especially styled the " beau monde;" he se-
dulously frequented assemblies, dinners, routs, and theatres; but
a k:\v weeks of this life soon disgusted him : neither had the
r.Hind of senseless gaiety in which he indulged, power to touch
his heart or interest his understanding; he felt a void and wea-
riness in everything. He next resolved to try literature : he
frequented all the libraries, museums, and lectures, of any note,
eitaer public or private ; but when the first ardour of pursuit
FATHER OSWALD. 13*
tvas over, and (he pleasure of novelty had ceased, he felt that he
was more unhappy than ever, and farther from the peace of
mind and repose of heart which he so much coveted, and wrack
he had once enjoyed, but which lie now had lost perhaps for
ever. " And why have I lost this treasure 1" he would some-
times say to himself; "and why do I now find no interest in
any thing 1" He durst not seek for the answer, though he knew
that it lay in his inmost soul; for, as often as he turned his
menta'. eye inwards, he was startled with the image of his in-
jured, persecuted, and deserted wife. He strove in vain to
banish the accusing thought ; but, night and day, it ever haunted
him and embittered every hour of his life.
CHAPTER XVII.
The march of intcifcct ! What know we now
Of mora 1 , or of thought and sentiment,
Which was not known two thousand years ago T
It is an empty hoast, a vain conceit
Of folly, ignorance, and base intent " EGERTON BRYDGES.
ONE day, as Sefton was passing along the boulevards, he ac-
cidentally met with an old acquaintance: a young man of the
name of Le Sage, the son of a French emigre, who had been
born and educated in England. Edward had known him al
Cambridge. They had not met for twelve years; Le Sngewas
delighted to see again his old friend, and welcomed him with
all the animated warmth of the French character.
" Ah ! Sefton !" exclaimed he, " can it be you ! thrice welcome
10 Paris and to my roof."
Sel'ton thanked him for his kindness; but a forced smile, be-
lying the melancholy of his brow, betrayed to the quick eye ol
liis friend some secret sorrow that lay rankling at his heart
Le Sage perceived it, but prudently forbore to probe it too ao( p-
ly, lest he might irritate it the more. He only asked Sefton il
he had come alone.
" CLuite alone," replied Edward rather shortly.
" I hope nothing has occurred to render my friend unnapp) V
jiquired Le Sage in a tone of interest.
Sellon gave no answer, but sighed deeply.
" My dear Sefton," continued Le Sage, " unburthen at once
138 FATHER OSWAI.JJ.
the' sorrow of your heart into the bosom of a faithful friend, who
.vould willingly bear a portion of your grief and do any tiling
ia his power to serve you."
Sefton became still more agitated.
"Alas! perhaps cruel fate has robbed you of some dear ob-
ject of your affections]"
.Sefton almost groaned.
" Come, cheer up, my friend ; we cannot reverse the decrees
of fate; death is only an eternal repose, and your poor wi.e "
'' Is not dead," exclaimed Selion with vehemence ; " would to
God she had died before she brought disgrace upon herself and
misery on me and my family!"
"Oh ! oh!" replied Le Sage with a sarcastic smile, " I un
demand you ; so your once incomparable wife, has unhappily
proved herself as frail as any other fair one."
Seflou's countenance burned with an honest blush : he was
conscious that his own unguarded expression had cast an un-
merited stain on Emma's name ; he bit his lip, he vainly tried
to suppress his indignation, his eye kindled and flashed with
emotion, his Irritated feelings bursting through all control.
" My God !" exclaimed he, " what have you dared to insinu-
ate! you wrong her, Sir, you wrong her grossly ; the withering
breath of scandal has never tarnished her spotless name, and
never shall, with impunity, in my presence."
" Heavens and earth ! my dear Selton." said Le Sage, quite
astonished at his agitation; "pardon me, I pray, if, unintention-
allv. I have caused you any pain ; I can assure you I meant no
offence. If I have offended by a rash suspicion, it was yourself
w-ho led me into error; you spoke, of disgrace and misery on
yourself and family ; what else could I infer 1 ?"
"Any thing but that dreadful suspicion."
"Sefton, be cairn; tell me the extent of your misfortune, for
I am quite bewildered."
" Sefton "s indignation now turned against himself; he blushed
n.ore intensely at his own hasty expression. "To cut short
every other suspicion," said he, more calmly, "she is become a
Papist."
" Le Sage could with difficulty restrain his laughter; but,
seeing the emotions of his friend, he tried to soothe him
"Come, come, Sefton, lay aside this morbid humour; banish
mclancholv : if this be the only cause of your grief, all will soon
be well. A short run in Paris will soon inspire you with wiser
notions. We manage these matters much better in Fr, nee; we
allow our wives and daughters to n.muse themselves with these
bagatelles just as they please ; they must have somcthin? tf
FATHER OSWALD 139
weupy their busy imaginations, and we do not fir.i 1 them less
dutiful or less amiable because they are more devout. Why
von know that I was born a Papist, and am generally esteemed
one now."
" Yes/' replied Sefton, "I know you are nominally a Papist,
because Papists constitute the predominant sect of your country ;
but thanks to your English education, you have imbibed more ra-
tional ideas; you can neither believe nor practice the vile su-
perstitions of that abominable system."
"You would hardly believe it, Sefton, yet I actually went tc
mass almost everyday as long as my poor mother lived: a more
kind, a more indulgent mother, no child ever had. But while
she, poor dear soul, was fumbling her beads, and mumbling her
QVCS, I stood behind her, paying my fervent devotions to the
more visible deities of flesh and blood, which flitted by me in aii
me bloom of youth and loveliness. Since her death, I do noi
Ihink I have seen the interior of a church ; in fact, no man of
sense goes ,'o church now-a-days."
Sexton felt deep disgust at the light manner with which Le
S<ige treated religion ; but regarding it as the natural result ol
Popery, and feeling thereby doubly proud of the superior purity
Df his own religion, he observed that it was but natural thru he
should have acted thus, for, continued he, "1 am not in the leas!
surprised that a man of your sound sense, and blessed with the
advantages of an English education, should be satisfied with the
empty forms of your national church, but I think you mig'ht
hnve found some rational consolation in the more solid service
of the Protestant temple."
"Bali! bah!" exclaimed Le Sage; "how little do you un-
derstand the activity of the French mind! No sooner do we
take leave of Notre Dame, than we seek refuge in the lempleof
reason and universal philanthropy. No he If- way housecnn for
a moment detain us in our ardent career. In one word. Sel'ton,
we sec intuitively the final conclusions of your admirable prin-
ciples; for, to do you justice, we cannot but allow that the' true
principles of philosophy independence of thought, and free-
dom from the trammels of authoritv passed from Britain into
France; but you on your part must acknowledge, that in regen-
erated France, they have produced the most abundant fruits "
Se.ton did not feel flattered at this compliment, and observed
drily, " The best things may be abused when carried to excess ;
even good itself in that way may be perverted into evil. Siiil I
cannot see how, from any English principle, you can 'educe
French infidelity."
" Nothing more logical," replied Le Sage. ' You maintain
IW FATHER OSWALD.
lhat it is (he inalienable right of man, to hold and express his
own Tree opinions on all subjects, religious and political : nay
more, you assert that no man can believe what he does not un-
derstand; on these principles you very justly protested againrt
a few of the obsolete dogmas of Catholicity ; we protest again.- 1
them all. Thus we are more consistent and more perfect Prc-
lestants than yourself; so that if the orthodoxy of Protestantisn
is to be measured by the extent of protestation, we are the mow
orthodox Protestants on the face of the earth."
Edward was thunderstruck at hearing such language from his
friend, at finding infidelity described as the natural consequence
of Protestant principles: but he found himself unprepared to
refute the reasons of Le Sage. What he had just heard sur-
prised him the more, as he had known him in his younger days
-rather piously inclined, and, as he then thought, too much at-
'ached in secret to Catholic superstitions; and far too scrupulous'
in declining to conform to the Protestant practices of devotion
In fact, Le Sage had received a pious education from his reli-
gious parents ; but after his return to France, he had fallen J nto
the company of the gay, vicious, corrupted youth of Paris ; he
'was soon whirled away in the vortex of reckless dissipation ;
his conscience for a while reproached him ; his faith held out
to him the prospect of a miserable eternity, and haunted him in
the midst of his pleasures with continued terrors. He could
bear the conflict no longer, and sought every means to free him-
self from ihis intolerable burden. Reasoning from some of those
plausible principles which he had imbibed at Cambridge, with-
out questioning their soundness, he drew all the consequences ol
the French sophists; "he made shipwreck of -the faith," and
soon persuaded himself that Revelation was a fable, as repug-
nant to human reason as subversive of the noble passions whicl
the Creator had implanted in the nature of man.
When Sei'ton had a little recovered from his astonishment, hr.
asked Lo Sage, if he had really become a deist.
" Deist or atheist, call me what you will : I regard such ap-
pellations merely as the frothy but harmless venom of expiring
bigotty. I am ambitious only of the name of philosopher ; but
corne, I must show you the lions of Paris. You have been
rusticating too long in your northern clime: you are literally an
age behind the world in your ideas. To-morrow you shall dine
wil'i me at a select party, L'vl.ic dc la jc.une Prance."
" 1 am much obliged to you, I am sure," said Sefton, "you do
me too much honour."
" Not in Ihe least, my good friend," said Le Sage ; " our din-
ner hour is seven : give me your address, and I will call for
FATHEH OSWALD. Mi
you ; lor the present 1 must wish you good morning, as I have
an engagement at our club/'
The two friends separated, and Sefton strolled on in melan-
choly mood, reflecting deeply on what he had heard, and seek-
ing in vain for some reasonable refutation of the strange svstein
of Le Sage. Since his residence in Paris he had involuntarily
heard many explanations and observations on the Catholic reli-
gion, whicli sometimes raised a passing thought, whether that
system had not more claims to he the religion founded by Christ
than Protestantism. True it is, that these intrusive thoughts
were generally rejected with disdain ; but there were moments
when the bare idea that Protestantism might not alter all be the
true religion, caused him intense mental irritation, and never
before had he felt that pang more acutely. ' Surely," thought
be, " if the principles of Protestantism lead to deiMn, ;;s they
<cem to have done in France, there must be .something rotten ;.t
he core :" he rejected, however, this ide.i with as much horror
is he would have rejected a temptation to commit some dreadful
ci.tie. It was too humiliating to think that his private judg-
A\enc could have erred soegregiously in a matter of such vital
: violent; it was too galling to sell-conceit to think 1'or a moment
thai ti.? religion lor which he had sacrificed so rnueh that was
t ear i.o his heart, might have been the work of Satan and notot
'.iod; he therefore concluded that the infidelity of France must
fr)mehow or other be more connected with Catholicity than with
genuine Protestantism, although he could not yet discover the
connection ; consequently, he hated and despised the Catholic
fav'.h more than ever, and did all in his power to thicken the
inict of prejudice in which his understanding had so long been
enveloped. The evening of the day on which Sefton renewed
his acquaintance with Le Sage, he retired to rest harassed wiiii
doults and difficulties which he was unr.ble to resolve: noi
could all his efforts to combat or banish the subject of his unea-
siness procure him the rest and tranquility he sought. The fol-
lowing day, as the hour of dinner approached, Le Sage drove
to Selioa's lodging and took him in his cabriolet to the hotel,
which was the place of rendezvous to which he had invited him.
The hotel was magnificent, and the saloon into which Sefton
was conducted by his friend was furnished in the. most fashion-
able and luxurious style. There they (bund assembled atom
forty or fi.lv young DIL'II between the ;;ges of fifteen and twenty-
five, and three cr four others of more mature ngc, who seemed
to exercise a sort of tacit superiority over the rest. They were
all dressed in the most exquisite- fashion, and the whole place
auu company brogue d iuxury and novelty. Soon after the usual
13
143 FATHER OSWALD.
introductions and ^ompliments had passed, the dinner was an
nounced, and tht coi.ij.any were soon seated in the dining-rccm
at a splendid banquet, consisting of every luxury and delicacy
of the season, prepared under the inspection of the first artiste
in Paris. Sefron was placed at the right hand of the president,
and received the most flattering attentions from all around him.
Several toasts were given and drunk with the greatest enthu-
siasm: " Vive la i'unc France" " Vive la Patri"," ''A bus lit
CatoHf., d bis la li/mnni.?." As the wines circulated, the con-
versation became more animated , they talked of the wonderful
progress of civilization, and of the high destinies towards which
'Uie European nations were rapidly advancing. Sefton listened
with conscious pride and the most pleasing satisfaction to the
'high encomiums passed on the free institutions of England, the
.liberty of the press, and the freedom of thought and speech
"which that favoured people enjoyed. Ardent were the aspirations
and fervent were the vows that young France would soon equal
or surpass her. With animated eloquence Sefton'snew friends
explained to him that France indeed was at present under a
cloud, a hateful dynasty having been forced upon her by the
'bayonets of foreign nations; hut that they were all hope and
confidence that the sun of liberty would again break forth.
Some late measures of the ministry were severely criticised,
unsparingly condemned, and denounced as perfidious, tending
: to the suppression of public opinion, and to the enslavement of
the press. Sefton expressed a little dissent of opinion o r i this,
but they maintained that every thing that had been done for the
last fifteen years, proved demonstratively a plan for the gradual
restoration of ancient despotism and bigotry. These liberal
sentiments met with a warm response from the heart and lips
of Se ton, although once or twice his high notions of loyalty
were not a little startled at the vulgar abuse, murmurs of dis-
content, and loud menaces, which were poured out on the de-
voted head of Charles Dix. However, he soon became recon-
ciled to this unceremonious warmth of expression, when they
had convinced him, that the foolish monarch was a mere tool
of the i/artie-prelre ; a very puppet in the hands of an ambitious
and intriguing priesthood ; that Charles himself had actually
taken orders, and said mass every morning privately in his
cabinet. In proof of the fact, or at least of the public opinion,
some five-franc pieces were handed about, on which the calnlle
had been ingeniously stamped on the head of the king. Nay,
the president gravely assured Sefton, that Charles X. was a
Jesuit in disguise, d rob?, courle. Sefion's blood was fired si
these discoveries: and he no longer hesitated to pronounce, tn.ii
FATHER OSWALD. 143
It was a holy cause to conspire against such superstition and
tyranny. He was assured that there was not a generous young
heart in France that did not ardently long for the moment to
shake off this inlolerable yoke ; and that a favourable occasion of
manifesting themselves could not be 1'ar distant. The party at
length broke up, and Sel'ton received pressing invitations to the
houses of the most distinguished lenders sf the sol riifanl liberals ;
and he became, in a little time, deeply interested and involved
in their machinations, more from ignorance of the fatal conse-
quences of iheir schemes and principles than from malice ot
heart. In all revolutions, the most abandoned, wicked, and idle
characters, are ever the most ready to join ; they have nothing
to lose, and their want of religion and good principle, make
them totally regardless of the real happiness of their fellow-men.
With some of the most worthless and desperate of these charac-
ters did Edward connect himself; but many amongst his new
associates found he had toj much belief in Revelation for their
purposes, and therefore they endeavoured, not unsuccessfully,
alas! to undermine his belief in Christianity. Edward con-
stantly frequented the saloons and clubs, and there he met with,
infidels : he heard their blasphemies against Christ and his re-
ligion; was horror-struck, and attempted to refute them on
Protestant principles; but his companions laughed at him. and
showed him that Protestant principles lead logically to deism.
He appealed to his Bible, to prove the Trinity and Incarnation ;
the deists pointed out to him the texts by which Catholics prove
the real presence ; these he rejected, because he did not compre-
hend the mystery; because the testimony of his senses deposed
against it: his deistical companions then pointed out to him,
that the three in one, and one in three, is a greater mystery, and
more contradictory to the senses ; that a God suffering and dy-
ing was as absurd as any fable of ancient mythology; they un-
hesitatingly asserted, that the very idea of Revelation is absurd;
the great Author of the universe having endowed man with free
will to act, and having given him reason lor his guide, there
can be no need of any other rule of conduct. It was in vain
that Sefton observed, that reason itself dictates to us the justice
and obligation of submitting our judgment and will to the su-
preme reason and will of our Creator. They urged the absurd-
ity of supposing God to have given reason to man for his guide
and then to have given him Revelation for a guide which de-
stroyed the former one. Sefton replied, that the second and
more perfect guide dues not destroy the first, but perfects it; for
by original sin the human understanding was darkened, ar.ri
frep will impaired, and thai therefore Revelation was necessary
144 FATHF.R OSWAbU.
toenlighiee 'he onii nnd fortify the other. " Original sin!" re-
plied the dcistr Jiieeringly, bah ! a shallow invention of the dark
ages; the " understanding darkened! 1 ' Why, witness the noble
efforts it has exerted in these latter ages! What does the genius
of Newton and La Place owe to Revelation 7 and yet what sub-
lime mysteries of nature have they not opened to our wonder-
ing eyes ! What has taught the modern chemists to unravel the
most hidden secrets of nature? The unshackled reason of man.
This it is which has taught him to subdue the elements, and
::;ake them subservient to his use or amusement; to impel ilie
rapid stearn-boat through the stormy ocean, as to employ the
same wondrous power in spinning the finest gossamer. Look <<t
these stupenduous triumphs of the human mind, and on a thou-
sand others, and then say which of all these. Revelation im-
parted to us. The human mind has, indeed, been TOO long be-
nighted, but it \vas during the night of ignorance and supersti-
tion ; knowledge, at length, shone forth, and knowledge has
imparted power.
Seflon was not prepared to answer these arguments. It did
not occur to his mind that all the glorious discoveries ol modern
science do not extend beyond the limits of the mulnrial world,
nor advance one .step into the .tpirii.nai world. They disclose
no new ray of the divinity ; they teach us nothing of our ori-
gin, nothing of the ultimate term of our creation ; nothing of
the spirituality and immortality of the humcn soul : they explain
not the war of passions in the human bte;:st, nnd afford no aid
to regulate or subdue them. Striking facts had been instanced,
which could not be denied, and Sei'ton was too enthusiastic an
admirer of the progress of science to venture a reply. His
mind was confounded, and his faith, which rested on his own
reason, tottered to the ground. He revolved, in his own mind,
various texts of the Bible, which hitherto had appeared to him
sufficiently clear on the foundation of Christianity, the original
fall of man, cl cetera; they now seemed lo him obscure, am-
biguous, and inconclusive. He would still have hesitated to
acknowledge himself a Deist; but if he had dared to examine
his interior sentiments, he would have found that he was nothing
better hence, he no longer refused to associate with the im-
pious, and to join in all their orgies, profane and political; he
nvolvcd himself deepiv in the plots of the revolution, which
>-,,ortly after exploded ; he took up arms against the reigning
dynasty, and distinguished himself during the sln-rivus " three
days'' by his rashness and by his violence ; feeling a sense ol
desperation about him he fought recklessly. Towards the
p.nd of the third -Jay he received a sabre slash on the lei't arm
FATHER OSWALD. 145
and a musket shot passed through his right shoulder, while in
the thickest of the fray on the Boulevard. He Tell to the ground,
and was soon trampled on, and nearly stifled by heaps of dead
and dying; his wounds bled profusely , ue felt a sense of hope-
less feebleness creep over him; the roar and tumult around
seemed gradually to fade away from his hearing and sight, and,
in a few minutes, Edward Sei'ton was as stiff, and cold, and in-
sensible to all about him, as were the green trees that rejoiced
in the bright sun above him. to the carnage, fury, rage and pas-
sions of the poor human beings who fought so wildly and so
desperately under their calm, cool shade.
CHAPTER XVIII.
Oh ! when will the ages of faith e'er return,
To gladden the nations again ?
Oh ! when shall the flarnr of sweet Charity burn,
To warm the cold bosoms of men ?
When the angel of vengeance hath sheathed his sword,
And his vials have drenched the land ;
When the pride of the sophist hath bent to the Lord,
And trembled beneath his strong hand. FRAGMENT.
How o!t have the enemies of faith torn the bosom of France
How oft have the unbelievers and the impious united to crush
the Catholic religion, and to destroy the churches and the altars
of Jesus crucified! The pride of the sophist cannot understand,
and will not bow to the humility of the Cross; still, amidst these
bitler blasts, Providence has protected the scattered and humble
followers of the Man-God ; and, like the lowly and sweet-scented
violet, they have still, unheeded and unperceived, contrived to
cast around the odour of their good works, and of their heroic
endurance, and of their unshaken belief. Hope whispers, that
the spark of divine faith, which has been almost hidden so long,
will one day burst forth into a glorious and universal blaze,
which will scare the infidel and the pro.'ane from the !nnd, and
leave religion once more in possession of France, to receive to
her tender bosom her erring and misled children ; to point out
to them the path of happiness, and to
" Bind the hear;, long oroke wi'.h weeping."
For several days after the insurrec'ion, Edward's servani
13*
146 .ATHER OSWALD.
Luigi continued to make indefatigable inquiries after his mas-
ter, hut all in vain; from no one could lie obtain the slightest
intelligence about him, excepting that he had been seen in the.
c.onflict. At length Luigi came to the conclusion that Mr. Setton
must either have perished in the general slaughter, or have left
Paris, and had probably returned to England. In either case,
the g-ood valet thought he could not do better than to take his
place in the diligence, and return as soon as possible to London
There, again, his inquiries were vain. He then hastened to
Eaglenest Cottage to inquire for his master, and not finding him
at his own house, he told Miss Sciton all he knew about her
brother, which dreadfully frightened and agitated her. She lost
no time in sending an express to Weetwooa, thinking he might
have gone there on the excitement of the moment, if by chance
he had escaped in safety. But he was not at Weetwood. It is
impossible to describe the terror and anguish of Emma, or the
anxiety of the General. Poor Emma ! she knew not but thai
she might be at that moment a widow, and every grief and
every sorrow bled afresh. . . . And where was Edward 1 Edward
was in an hospital in the heart of Paris, whither he had been
carried along with the rest of the wounded; and there he lay
gasping between life and death, surrounded by the sick and
dying, some of whom utiered the most horrible imprecations
and shrieks of despair. His bodily sufferings were intense, bul
his mental agony and horror were a thousand times more acute
and intolerable. When he recovered from his swoon, after his
removal to the hospital, his first effort was to ieel for a small
miniature of Ernrna, set in rubies, which he always wore roum'.
his neck it was gone; his watch and his ring her gilts, wet-
also gone. " O my God!" exclaimed he bitterly, "I have de-
served this !" He inquired in vain for them of the attendants
round his poor pallet; they only smiled, and sarcastically ob-
served that these trinkets no doubt were in safe keeping. Re-
monstrance was in vain, nor had he time to think on the subject,
for he heard the young medical students observe to one another,
that it was a thousand to one whether he would recover or m.t.
Death was before his eyes; the remembrance of his wile and
children pierced his heart to the very quick; he would have
given worlds to have had his injured Emrna by his side in that
moment of bereavement; the thoughts of the injustice he had
offered tc her conscience by denying her that liberty which rve r y
Protestant claims to himself, and by causing her the grief and
sufferings he had done, were daggers to his very soul. i\.~>.v
tiifferenfly do we see things at the hour of death to what w. .V
in health, arid in the ordinary routine of daily life! those \.\.\Y
FATHER OSWALD. 147
who nave experienced this can know and feel how strikingly
true it is. Sel'ton continued hoping I'or several days that some
of his new associates would come to see him, but they came
not; not even Le Sage, though an old friend, made his appear-
ance Surely, thought Edward, our old intimacy, so lately re-
newed wim everj expression of eternal attachment, ought to
have taught him some compassion for one who is suffering on
h.'s account, in a common hospital, in a strange country, and
far removed from any dearer connection. Were all his assu-
rances unmeaning, hollow, deceitful? Alas! what avails us
(he friendship of this world, if we are deprived of il in the hour
of our greatest distress 1 Perhaps Le Sage himself has perished !
cut ofF in his inridelity, with all his sins upon his head ! Oh !
it is horrible to think upon. And 1 also doomed to share the
same fate! God have mercy on my poor soul! In the mean-
time Sefton got worse ; the thought of God and eternity haunter!
his mind, but he could not feel the consolations of faith, for he
no longer believed. He wished to believe, but he could not ; he
Knew not what to believe; his anguish became extreme. He
entreated those around him to give him a Bible but the infidels
had their emissaries even there, and instead of a Bible they put
into his hands the impious and ribald comments of Voltaire on
the sacred text. . . . He reads, and his horrors increase. O God !
he knows not which way to turn his terror-stricken heart ; he
sees no ray of comfort or hope, either for this world or the next
.... his tortured and weakened frame sinks under the intense
agony of mental anguish ; despair seizes him, and in a few
hours more he is in the wild frenzy of a dreadful delirium.
For many long days and tedious nights he hung between li r e
and death, insensible to all external impressions, his soul and
brain racked wilh remorse, and with appalling and hideous
ravings about God, His awful judgments, and a never-ending
eternity of endless and unutterable woes. ... At length the God
of all mercy had compassion on his poor, suffering creature.
The physicians consulted, and administered a powerful opiate
to produce a crisis of sleep, which for fifteen days had not closed
his wearied eye-lids; it was a desperate remedy, either to kill
or cure. Ten minutes after he hsd laken it, he closed his lurid
and raving eye. and his throbbing and beating brow sunk calm
and tranquil on the pillow. Poor Edward ! he slept in peace
nnd balmy tranquillity for several hours. When he awoke the
lever had left him ; he gaxed around him with a vacant eye, as
if trying to recollect where he was; he sav/ that he was in a
smali but neatly whitewashed room ; the partitions which formed
the walls did not reach to the ceiling nor to the bottom. There
14^ FATHER OSWALD.
was a window opposite to his bed, the casement of which was
open, and the freshness of the morning air circulated through
'he little apartment: seated near the window he beheld a slightly-
formed female figure, dressed in a religious habit, with a crucifix
fastened to her girdle; the folds of a black gauze veil concealed
her countenance as she leaned over a book on her knees, which
she was intently perusing. Edward endeavoured to raise him-
self in his bed, but he ibund he could not move; the unnatural
strength produced by fever had left him ; he was weak and help-
less as an infant. The rustling he made in attempting to move,
caused the Sister of Charity, lor such she was, to turn her face
towards him; she was of a fair and delicate complexion, with
large, expressive blue eyes, lit up by a touching and sublime
tinge of tenderness and devotion, but shaded and tempered by
the modesty of their long dark lashes. She rose and advanced
quietly towards the bed.
" Do you i'eel yourself a little better now 7" said she, in a
compassionate and soothing tone.
" Where am 17" exclaimed Edward, still more bewildered at
hearing himself addressed in his mother-tongue.
" You are with those who will take care of you, and will not
suffer you to be neglected nor abandoned," said Sister Angela,
in accents of kindness; ''but you have been ill, very ill, and we
must thank God that the fatal crisis is past."
She knelt down by the bed-side, and uttered aloud a fervent
nrayer of thanksgiving to God and the Blessed Virgin for the
amelioration which had taken place. Edward joined in it with
all his heart, and as the sister rose from her knees, he looked
lixedly and earnestly in her face, and said, "Give me, I entreat
you, something to allay my thirst."
There was a jug of barley- water on the little table by the bed,
and she began to pour some of it into a glass.
"Give me the jug," said Edward, in a languid voice.
Sister Angela held it to his lips, and called at the same time
to a person, who then appeared atone of the open divisions at
the bottom of the room. This was a stout-looking lay sister,
somewhat advanced in years, with a most benevolent counte-
nance. At a sign from Sister Angela, she quietly raised Ed-
ward's head, so that he could drink conveniently; he emptied
the jug at one draught, and then instantly sunk back into another
pro ouml slumber. He dreamt of peace and domestic happi-
ness : he thought he was in his own beautiful woods at Set ton.
and th;it Emma was giving him to drink, water from the coolest
fountains, and that his little ones were gathering him grapes and
fruits During the height of his delirium, Edward had been
FATHER OSWALD. 1-19
removed i,, the fever \vard of the fame hospital, for his frantic
ravings disturbed those who were recovering from their wounds
The lever ward was more especially under the care of the Sis-
ters of Charity, and the greatest attention, both to soul and body,
was paid to the patients under their care, by these admirable
and heroic females. Under the direction of his compassionate
and skilful nurses, Edward's convalescence continued to make
favourable progress, and in the coarse of a week, he was able
to sit up a little in his bed, and the wound in the le't arm was
nearly healed. During this week, he had gradually recovered
the recollection of all that had occurred before his delirium.
As he regained strength, Sister Angela observed that he seemed
daily to become more uneasy in his mind ; he o.'ten sighed
deeply, and wouid sometimes put wild and incoherent questions
to her about religion, and belief in Revelation; frequently, too,
when slumbering, he would utter the name of Emma, and call
upon his children. Sister Angela was an English lady of good
family, who had very young embraced a religious life, and
dedicated herself to the service of Jesus crucified, in serving His
sick members. She had been sent by her superiors, on ?otne
business, to Paris, and while serving in the hospital there, heard
that there was then in it an Englishman, severely wounded and
dying; she was sent to visit him, as in his ravings he spoke
nothing but English, and the attendants on the wounded gladly
accepted her proposal, to t?,ke the charge of nursing him in the
fever ward. This was all she knew of Edward's history, but
she by degrees endeavoured to gain his confidence, in hopes of
being able to alleviate the weight of woe. which seemed to press
on his heart. She so far succeeded, that ere a fortnight elapsed,
he had related to her his whole story. She soothed and com-
forted him, and raised his hopes to brighter days, telling him.
that now as he had experienced a little of the horrors of infi-
delity, he would more readily turn with true repentance to his
God. He half promised to examine carefully the Catholic re-
ligion, and to write to Emma. Though Sister Angela perceived
that whenever she pressed these subjects a little, there was a
fierce working of passions still in his breast, yet she continued,
with firm and undaunted charity, to urge him to write kindly to
his wile.
"If you will write a few affectionate lines," said she, " I will
narrate to her, in a postscript, how ill you have been, and how
favourable your convalescence is going on ; you will feel much
more peace in your mind when you have done so."
" Well, I will do so then/' said Edward still hesitating j " bu?
will not Emma think il odd to hear from you V
150 FATHER OSWALD.
"Oh! no." answered Sister Angela, smiling, as she placed
the writing materials on his bed : " your good and excellent
wife will require no apology for an act of Christian charity, and
1 promise you I will say nothing about the events which brought
you here you shall read what I write."
" Oh ! no, no," replied Edward, half ashamed " I am quite
satisfied, I assure you."
The letter was written, and it was a very affectionate one,
and it expressed that his sentiments towards Catholics individ-
ually, were much changed. There was enough in it to console
Emma greatly in her agonizing uncertainty and bereavement;
but there was not enough to give her any hopes that his preju-
dices towards the Catholic religion ilself were in any material
degree changed. Sister Angela added her postscript, and then
prepared to send the letter to the post office.
" I certainly feel much relieved." said Edward, as he gave it
into her hand. " Poor Emma! I have often been sorry I wrote
tnat last harsh letter to her.' 1
'' You have done what you can, now, to atone for any litll-ii
unkindness you may have expressed to her before," said Sister
Angela ; <: and I think that you will ere long give her more solid
subject for consolation : therefore, remain in peace, and trust IP
God."
" Oh ! no; I shall never be a Catholic," said he, with an in-
credulous smile, " if that is what you mean."
" You think so now, no doubt," replied Sister Angela ; "but
make no rash resolutions. The hand of God is not shortened,
and I cannot persuade myself that He has delivered you so mi-
raculously from the most imminent death unless He had other
graces in store for you. All I ask of you is, not to resist these
graces, and then 1 fear not the result."
Sefton was touched with this observation, and replied, \vitu
great emotion, '' I trust I shall be ever more faithful to the calls
of my God."
" I ask no more from you at present."
" How good God has been," said Sefton, with a sigh, " lo de-
liver me from this abyss of misery; how little I have deserved
it ! How can I ever requite it ?"
" 1 think," said the nun, "-there is one to whom, under God,
J3U are most indebted for this mercy."
"To whom V asked Seiton eagerly.
" To your wife ; to whose pious prayers and tears God has
Jent a willing ear."
Sefton hid his face for contusion beneath Ihe clothes, and
sobbed audibly. After a few minutes, he again raised his coun-
FATHER OSWALD. }.*>!
tenance, trained in tears; but Sister Angela had already left the
room, and Edward could only say to himself, ' Oh ! that I had
the calm conscience and the peace of mind of that truly angelic
lieing !" He turned round to arrange his pillows, and, in so
doing, he observed that his nurse had inadvertently left on the
table near him, a little black book, in which sheo!ten read fora
longtime. He had frequently wished to know what this book
was, but his respect for her had prevented him asking her. He
eageriy look it up : it was " The Imitation of Christ." Edward
had never before seen it ; he opened it with avidity, and his as-
tonishment increased as he read, and felt the unction of thai
precious book penetrate his soul.
"Can you lend me this beautiful little book V said he to Sister
Angela, as soon r.s she 7'eturned in the evening to put things in
order lor him, before she went to her'convent !or the night.
"Certainly, if you wish it," answered she; it is a wonderful
little took, and contains most sublime lessons of Christian per-
fection, and profound sentiments of true philosophy "
" May I ask. Sister Angela, what is that large book I have
seen you sometimes read, when you have done what is to be
done so kindly in the room, and think I am going to sleep."
" Oh, that is my office book," said she gaily.
" What is an office book V
' It is composed of the book of Psalms and select lessons
from the Holy Scripture, with several hymns and prayers: these
we religious have to say daily; all the clergy have an obligation
of saying it also."
"Really." said Edward,"! did- not think Catholics had so
much to do with the Bible."
Sister Angela laughed ; she and the lay sister, Sceur Clotilde.
were dressing the gun-shot wound in his shoulder, or perhaps
Edward might have laughed also.
"Well," added he, when they had finished, "you Catholics
do certainly say a great many prayers, and take a great deal ol
pains to get to Heaven ; but do you not feel that the life you
have chosen is a very hard one 7"
" Oh ! no, no," answered she with enthusiasm ; " I find no
hardships in t; the love of God sweetens every thing; and be-
sides/' added she, crossing her hands gracefully over her breast,
" I have a peace and joy here, which the world can neither givo
nor take away."
Edward was sensibly affected, when Sister Angela and het
companion, kindly wishing him good evening, left him in the
care of the person appointed to watch during the night, and re-
mrned to their convent.
152 FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XIX.
" There are more things in Heaven and earth, Horatio,
Then e'er were dieamt of in thy philosophy." SHAKSPEAHE.
ONE day, while Edward's convalescence was making ita te-
dious progress, the governor of the hospital carne into his room,
and told him there was a tall, elderly gentleman, wearing an
order, of the name of La Harpe, who wished to speak to him.
Edward desired he might be admitted. When La Harpe saw
him, he was so struck with the ravages, sickness had made ir,
his appearance, that he could not help testifying his surprise by
ai\ involuntary start. Edward held out his hand to him. " This
is kind in you very kind." said he, "to come arid see the poor
wounded man ; it is more than I have deserved from you, Mon-
sieur La Harpe," added he, with evident emotion.
" Oh, I should have been with you long ; go, could I but have
found you. I have sought you, and inquired alter you in so
many piaces," answered La Harpe; "and now that I have the
happiness of finding you alive, be. ore I hear your story, I must
disch;.rge my conscience of a trust which has been reposed
in it."
Saying this, he drew from his breast, a small packet, and
placed it in Edward's hand; "That," said he, ' is your prop-
erty, or I am much mistaken ; you once showed it to me in hap-
pier days."
" O my God !" exclaimed Edward " it is the lost miniature
of my beloved Emm j ;" and he kissed it rapturously, and pressed
it to his heart. " I never thought I should see it again : and the
rubies, too, are all untouched! But how could it have fallen
into your hands'!"
"You must ask no questions," said his friend. " I can only
tell this much : it was given to me by a poor missionary priest,
who knew I was acquainted with you; he received it, in con-
fession, from a person since dead of his wounds, who was deeply
implicated in the late commotion."
" If restitution of ill-gotten goods is a fruit of confession. 1
am sure I feel the benefit of it at present," said Edward, smiling.
" No Catholic priest can grant absolution to his penitent with-
out such restitution," answered Monsieur La Harpe : " but tell
me now all that has happened to you since we parted."
Edward then detailed all his miseries and adventures, touch-
ing, however, as lightly as he could upon his connection with his
dcistieal friends, and not failing to abuse them most vehemently
FATHER OSWALD. 153
for naving at such a time completely abandoned him. " Hr.d it
not been !or that angel, the Sister of Charity," added he. ; 'God
knows I should have been laid low enough by this time."
"What could you expect from infidels 1" said La IL.rpe in-
dignantly : " in no circumstances can one place reliance on any,
but on those actuated by motives of pure religion. But you
must now be removed from the hospital, and made more com-
lortable."
" No, no," said Edward ; " I would rather remain where I am,
til I urn able to rise; but jMonsieur La Harpe could do me a
greet kindness by sending 10 my old lodgings in the Rue de la
Paix ior my seivant, and bidding him bring my clothes and
the other things belonging to me. Were it not lor the coarse
but clean linen with which the liberality and charity o; this
hospital have furnished me," said he, pointing to the homely
materials with which he was surrounded, " I should have been
badly off indeed."
" I will go instantly," said La Harpe, rising, " and will return
this evening with your servant, if he is to be found I am sur-
prised he has not yet visited you and you shall have all your
things, if possible."
He accordingly went to the lodging, and found that the servant
tiad departed : but the landlord had sealed up all Edward's effects
until he could by more diligent inquiry, ascertain how he was
to dispose of them. He accompanied Monsieur La Harpe to
the hospital, where in the pale and altered Ed ward he recognized
his former lodger. By the kind and attentive influence of his
friend, Edward was soon supplied with many of those little ne-
cessaries and comforts which so materially aid the advancement
of convalescence; he called to see bitn almost daily, and brought
him newspapers and works of literature to divert his tedium.
Sef'on felt very grateful, and though they often talked on reli-
gion, his tone wt.s much less offensive to the ears of La Harpe
-ban it used to be. One day he even went so far as to say
" I have often felt, my dear La Harpe, during this my severe
'illness, very sorry for the things I have scid to you abo'ut your
rt-ligion ; but do not think it is that I like it a bit better than I
did no, certainly not ; but, somehow or other, though Catholics
are really much more inflexible in matters of faith than those of
other creeds, still I think they are more individually compassion-
ate and tolerant toward their fellow-men than we are."
' : That is the practical effect of their religion," said La Harpe :
" \ve condemn the error, but pity and cherish the individual who
jus the misfortune to be deluded by it."
Yes" said Edward musing ; '"it must certainly be the daily
14
Ii>4 FATHER OSWALD.
earnestness about religion, and the real Christian virtues I havt
seen practised by some Catholics, many oi' them virtues, too,
very painful lor human nature to practise, which I candidly own
have m;;cie me think with less disgust than I used to do ol' thai
religion."
" Well," said his friend, laughing, " we shall certainly not
die of vanity, in consequence of the magnitude of your conces-
sions."
Sel'ton co'oured a little, and sighed.
" We learn our practical lessons of charity and Christianity,"
continued La Harpe, (without noticing his emotion,) "from the
study o. our crucifix, and we find there fill the lessons we need."
" I lu-ve ol'ten thought, my good friend, do you know," said
Sel'ton, looking at him earnestly. " that I would make a serious
study of the different existing religions; but, somehow or other,
my mind is so unhinged now. I don't know what to say."
" As a Protestant, you know, you are bound to inquire, and
to examine. As I understand it, you ought to take nothing on
credit; beinir accountable ibr your individual opinion, Jailk I
cannot call it."
" It is astonishing what odd ideas you French people have of
Protestantism," said Edward, with a sardonic smile ; " but the
subject makes me sad," added he, unwilling to acknowledge the
exact state of his feelings. " Tell me how things are getting on,
and what is the news of the day."
La Harpe detailed to him the progress of events, and con-
cluded by expressing his fear lor the consequences of the agi-
tated state of his poor country. " Alas ! you yourself have seen,"
said he, "some of the deistical and unprincipled vultures who
are gnawing at her vitals; it will not be their fault if religion is
not destroyed, and anarchy and confusion do not again overspread
the land. The same infidel and blasphemous maxims were
promulgated by those who paved the way lor the awful revolu-
tion of '92; and who can answer that the consequences may
110 be most frightful at present 1"
' Not so bad as that, my good friend," said Edward ; " your
ideas are too highly wrought, though I will acknowledge to you,
that what I have seen of that sort of society has, more espe-
cially on reflection, caused me both surprise and horror; and I,
as a most warm and sincere patriot, would rather die, than
see the British throne surrounded by such unbelieving blas-
phemers as I have met with since I came to Paris. Still, we
must not condemn all indiscriminately, nor consider every liberal
idea as an innovation; we must allow : La jeur.e France 1 to
FATHER OSWALD. 153
show a little spirit; and remember, too, that the school master is
abroad."
"I hope I shall never Iiv3 to see the consequences of the
spirit of 'La jeune France.'" said La Harpe desponding!)' ;
"there are manv wise and excellent people who predict no good
of it."
"Silly apprehensions, my good friend ! Some of these excel-
lent and wise people are the most timorous foreboders in the
world. What can they know about it 7 Experience has surely
laught ' La jeune France' rot to go too far, but to prune the tree
Without roofing it up."
" Time will show," said La Harpe. " There is a Providence
over every thing; and we may form a pretty correct idea of what
is to come, by \vhrt has been. But, alas! one of the peculiar
characteristics of this enlightened generation is, the materialism
which denies all supernatural agency and interference of an ac-
tive Providence in the affairs of men."
" My dear Monsieur La Harpe, do not be superstitious, for
God's sake," exclaimed Edward with energy; "I really gave
you credit for more sense !"
" Selton," said La Harpe quietly, " have you ever heard ol
a celebrated prophetic conversation which took place a little
before that terrible revolution which so many enlightened men
had foreseen and announced 7"
" No," said Edward ; " I dare say it was some old woman's
twaddle, or some vile priestcraft, published to mislead the sim-
ple ;" but seeing his friend looked hurt, he added, "Come,
La Harpe, let me have it it will serve to while away an hour."
" Oh ! it is nothing lo jest about," answered La Harpe, dash-
ing a tear hastily away from his expressive light-blue eye ; "it
was related to me by m}- celebrated namesake and relative after
he had become a sincere convert: being himself present when
it occurred. He often said that the impression this conversation,
which I am going to tell you, made upon him, was as vivid as if
he had heard it but the previous day, though it took place at the
beginning of the year 1788."
" Then an eye-witness related it to your relation 7" said
Sefton.
" No, he heard it himself," answered La Harpe, musing: "it
occurred at a grand dinner given by one of the academicians, a
person of distinction, and a man of talent. This dinner con-
sisted of a mixed and numerous society of courtiers, lawyer:,
literati, academicians, and other distinguished characters.
Every thing was, as usual, in the greatest luxury, while the
most pxouisiie wines added to the conviviality of gooi society
I5G
that sort of liberty in which its tone is not always preserved.
At that time the world was so little fastidious, that every thing
which might occasion mirth was permitted. Chamforl was one
of the party, and, to use my relation's words, had just read some
of his impious and libertine tales, to which even the high-born
ladies there present listened without having recourse to their fans.
Thence followed a deluge of witticisms on religion. One per-
son cited a trait from 'La Pucelle,' another recalled and ap-
plauded the philosophical verses of Diderot:
' Et ties hoyaux du dernier pretrr,
Serrez le cou du dernier roi '
A third rose, and holding a bumper in hi* hand, exclaimed, 'Yes,
gentlemen, I am as certain that there is no God, as I am certain
Homer was a Ibol ;' and, in fact, he was quite as sure ot one as
lie was of the other. The conversation then became more se-
rious, and every one expatiated with enthusiastic admiration on
the revolution affected by Voltaire, all agreeing that his most
glorious title to distinction was Ibunded on that. ' Yes,' con-
tinued they triumphantly, ' it is he who has given the spirit to
his age. He has diffused his works through the anteroom as
well as in the cabinet.' One of the guests related an anecdote
of his barber, who, while he was powdering him, exclaimed,
1 Depend upon it, Sir, though I am but a poor devil of a barber,
I have not a bit more religion than any one else.' The company
then came to the conclusion that the consummation of the revo-
lution could not be far distant; because it was certain that super-
stition and fanaticism must give place to philosophy, and they
cooly calculated the probabilities of the precise period of that
epoch, and who out cf the company present would live to see
the reign of Reason. The old complained that they could not
flatter themselves so far as to expect to see it, and the young re-
joiced that there was every probable hope, at least, for them.
They congratulated the Academy especially, as having been the
stronghold, centre, and promoter of liberty of thought. Amidst
all the conviviality of this conversation, one person only amor.jj
the guests had taken no share in it, and had even quietly slid ia
some little jokes at the eager enthusiasm of the moment ; this
person was Monsieur Cazotte, an amiable, but an original char-
acter. At length, taking up the discourse, 'Gentlemen,' saidne
in a most serious manner, ' you may all be satisfied, for you
will all see this grand and sublime revolution which you so
much desire. You know I am a little bit of a prophet, and I
repeat, you will all see it.'
FATHER OSWALD. 157
" They answered him with the well-known ditty, ' No need
:o be a great wizard to foretell that."
"' Perhaps so,' continued Cazotte; 'but it maybe necessary
to be a little more of a prophet than you seem to imagine, to tell
you what remains to be told. Do you know what will come to
pass in consequence of this revolution, and what will happen to
each one of you individually here present 1 what will be its
acknowledged effects, and immediate consequences V
"Capital! do let us hear,' said Condorcet, with his sullen
and stupid air ; ' a philosopher cannot be afraid of meeting with
a piophet.'
"'Well, then,' said Gazette, ' you, Monsieur de Condorcet,
will expire on the floor of a, prison. You will die by poison,
which you will swallow, in order to escape from the hands of
the executioner : by that poison which those happy days will
force you always to carry about you.'
<: Great, si firsi, WES the astonishment of the company at these
words; but thev soon recollected that the worthy Monsieur Ca-
zotte was subject to day dreams, and renewing their merriment,
exclaimed, ' Monsieur Cazotte, the tale you are telling us now
is not so amusing as your " Diable Amoureux ;" but what devil
can have put into your head prison, poison, and executioners 1
What connection can there possibly be between these things and
the reign of Reason and philosophy V
" ' Precisely that connection which I am pointing out to you,'
replied Cazotte: ' it is in the name of philosophy, of humanky,
of liberty, under the reign of Reason, that your career will finish
thus; and it will be truly then the reign of Reason, for at that
time temples will be raised to her, and to her alone, throughout
all France.'
" 'By my faith,' said Chamfort with a sarcastic sneer, 'you
will not be one of her priests then !'
" ' I hope not,' replied Cazotte: ' but you, Monsieur de Cham-
fort, who will be one, and most worthy of the dignity too you
will slash your veins twenty-two times with a razor, and, never-
theless you will not die of this until some months after.'
11 The company looked nt each other, and laughed again.
" You. Monsieur Vie d'Azir,' continued Cazotte, ' will nof
open your veins yourself, but to make more sure of }our fate,
you will, after an attack of gout, cause them to be opened six
times, and you will die in the night. You, Monsieur dels'icolai,
will die on the scaffold ; and you, Monsieur Bailly, also on the
scaffold.'
" 'Well, God be praised!" cried Roucher- "it seems that
Monsieur Ci/otre takes vengeance onlv on the Academicians:
14*
158 FATHER OSWALD.
he has made a terrible execution of them ; What will become
of me, please God '? -'
'' ' You, Monsieur Roucher !' replied Gazette 'you will like-
wise expire on the scaffold.'
" 'Oh!' cried every one simultaneously, 'he. has laid a wager;
he has sworn to exterminate us all.'
" ' No: it is not I, who have sworn it,' said CazoUt; mourn-
fully.
" ' Well, then, we are to be exterminated by the Turks and
Tartars !' exclaimed they with one voice.
11 ' By no means,' replied Monsieur Cazotte. ' Once more 1
repeat it; you will then be all ruled by Reason alone. Those
who will treat you thus, will be all philosophers, and will have
continually in their mouths the same phrases which you have
been using lor this last hour: they will repeat all your maxims,
they will quote like you the verses of Diderot, and those of La
Pucelle--'
" The guests whispered to each other, ' that it was evident
Cazotte had lost his head,' for he looked all this time as serious
as possible; ' but,' said they, ' we know he is only joking, and
that his jokes are always mingled with the marvellous ' Yes,'
observed Chamfort, 'but his marvellous is not gay: he is too
ominous; but can you tell us. Monsieur Cazotte, when all this
.will happen T asked he.
" ' Six years will not pass before all I have predicted to you
shall be accomplished,' said Cazotte calmly.
"'Why, these are really miracles 1 .' exclaimed my relative
himself; 'but you count me for nothing amongst them.'
" 'You, Monsieur La Harpe,' replied Cazotte, ' will be quite
as great and extraordinary a miracle as any of them, for you
will ,'hen be a Christian.'
" The table rung with exclamations."
"'Bravo! bravissimo!' cried Chamfort; ' I am quite happy
9gain ; for if we are not to perish till La Harpe is a Christian,
we shall be immortal.'
"'Well,' said Madame La Duchesse de Grammonl, 'we
ladies are very happy in being overlooked in these revolutions.
When ! say overlooked, I don't mean that we do not sometimes
meddle with them a little; but, as a matter of course, we are
exempted i'rom the consequences thereof, and our sex '
" ' Your sex, Madame,' interrupted Cazolte, ' will not protect
you this time, and it will be in vain for you not to meddle with
any thing; you will be treated like the stronger sex, without any
distinction whatsoever.'
" ' But what, in the name of patience, are you saying, Mon
FATHER OS\V 4LD. 159
Rieur Cas-ottel' expostulated the Duchess: 'it must be the end
of the world you are preaching to us methinks.'
"' I know nothing about that,' answered he drily, 'but w'nat
I do know is, that you, Madame La Duchesse de Grammont,
will be conducted to the scaffold on the executioner's car ; you
and several other ladies at the same time, with your hands tied
behind you."
" ' Upon my word ! At all events, in such a case, I trust 1
thould at least be indulged with a mourning coach,' said the
Ouchess.
" ' No Madame,' replied Cazotte; 'and ladies of higher rank
.ban yourself will, like you, go on a car; and like you, have
heir hands bound '
" ' Ladies of higher rank ! what, the princesses of the blood >'
occlaimed the Duchess.
" ' Ladies of higher rank still,' added Cazotte.
" Here a sensible agitation thrilled through the company, and
Ihe countenance of the master of the house fell, forever}' one
seemed to think the joke was carried a little too far. Madame
de Grammont, to disperse this little shade of displeasure, did
not insist on the last answer, and satisfied herself with obser-
ving, in the most light manner, ' You will see now he won't
even allow me a confessor.'
" 'No, Madame,' said the impenetrable prophet; 'you will
not have one, neither will any one else ; the last person exe-
cuted, who will have one, and that by a particular favour, will
le' . . . . Here he paused a moment.
" ' Well ! who is the happy mortal that will have this prero-
gative !' rsked many voices.
<: ' It will be the last prerogative which will remain to him ;
it, will, l>2 ihc. king of P'runc?,' said Cazotte mournfully.
" The master of the house rose abruptly, and every one with
him ; he approached Cazotte, and said to him in a marked tone,
'My dear Monsieur Cazotte, this melancholy fancy has lasted
quiie long enough, you carry it too far, you compromise both
yourself and us.'
" Monsieur Cazotte made no answer, but prepared to take
his leave, when Madame de Grammont, who always delighted
in banishing reflection by gaiety, advanced towards him,3aying,
1 Monsieur le Prophet has told us all our fortunes very well, but
he does not tell us a word about his own. 1
"Cazotte cast bis eyes on the ground and was silent for some
time ; at length he said, ' Did you ever read the sie^e of Jeru-
salem, by jQsephus, Madame ''
1GO FATI1LK OS%V..D.
" ' Oh, to be sure ; who has not read it " answered she, laugh,
ing. ' However, fancy to you. self I have not.'
" ' Well, then, Madame, continued Ci.zotte, ' during that siege,
there was a man who for seven days continually walked the
rcund of the ramparts, in the sight of the besiegers and the
besieged, crying incessantly in an ominous and thundering tone,
' Woe to Jerusalem ! and at length he cried out woe to my-
self !'' when, in the twinkling of an eye, an enormous stone,
hurled from th? engine of the enemy, reached him, and crushed
him to atoms.' Having said this, Cazotte made his bow, and
withdrew,"
La Harpe ceased speaking, and Edward seemed much struck.
"But," said he, in a hesitating tone, "were these predictions
verified 1"
"To a tittle."
"Aye, aye," said Sefton with a self-complacent smile: "it
is very easy to write a prophecy after the events have taken
place."
" 1 expected that objection," replied La Harpe ; " and in an-
swer to it, I can only allege the known integrity of my illustri-
ous kinsman, and my own conviction that he was incapable of
retailing and publishing such a story, if it was not literally true.
Besides, many are still living, who have heard the account from
his own lips, and never doubted his veracity."
" Do you then really believe ill" subjoined Sefton.
" As firmly as I believe any other gentleman on his word,
who has no motive to deceive me, or to disgrace himself."
" Certainly, it is very extraordinary," said Edward ; " but
how did Cazotte terminate his career 1"
" He died on the scaffold," answered La Harpe ; " and before
the fatal blow was struck, he turned to the assembled crowd, and
said in a distinct voice, ' I die, as I have lived, faithful to my
God and to my king.' "
" Then he was not what you term an infidel 1" inquired Sefton.
" By no means : he always preserved his faith, and was a
constant enemy to the disorders of the revolution. He was al-
ways much connected with the philosophers, who courted him
for his talents He was finally condemned, having been be-
trayed before a tribunal of assassins, and lost his life on the
scaffold, as I have mentioned."
" Poor man ! How horrid !"
" He found means, however, to get an hour's interview with
a priest," continued La Harpe, "and wrote to his wile and chil-
dren, begging them not to weep for him, adding, ' and above all
things, remember never to offend God.' "
FATHER OSWALD. 161
Edward made no observation, but seemed musing, and La
[Jarpe, who (elt himself much affected by the train of recollec-
tions he. had roused, rose, and holding out his hand to his friend,
silently withdrew.
CHAPTER XX.
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning star
In his sleep course? so long he seems to pause
On thy bald -nvful head, <> Sovren Diane;
dread and silent mount. I gazed upon thee,
Till l.hou. still present to the bodily sense,
Diitst vanish from my thought ; entranced in prayer,
1 worshipped the Invisible alone." COLERIDGE.
As Edward's convalescence advanced, and as his corporeal
health and vigour returned, so in the same proportion returned
and increased the sorrows and regrets of his heart; with the
doubts, agitations and miser}' of his mind, on matters of religion.
He was not unfrequently inclined to return to his home, and
allow his wife the same liberty of conscience he claimed lor
himself; but pride and the difficulty he felt in making what he
thought would be the first advances, always checked the more
just and generous feelings of his heart. "Besides," said he to
himself, " I really am so unhappy in my own mind about where
true faith is to be Ibur.d, or whether any particular form of faith
is at all required of us, that I feel I have no chance of regaining
any peace of soul, till 1 can make up my m.ind one way or an-
other. After all the horrible ideas I have heard expressed by
that vile set to which Le Sage introduced me, it seems clear
enough, that if faith be necessary for a man's salvation, it is
not to be Ibund in Protestantism at least: which, if what they
say is true, would be, alter all my pains, quiie as likely to con-
duct me to the Devil as not: though, by the way, they do not
believe in the Devil at all. most of them ; for if they believed
in him, they would believe in revealed religion ; certainly, though
1 have tried. I find it extremely difficult lo bring my mind aatis-
faclorilu lo h:li.:-ce, and to be hap pi/ in believing, that there is no
revealed religion. Without revealed religion, a thousand diffi-
culties present themselves in explaining the moral and mental
state of man ; and if there is a religion revealed by God to man
that reli?ion must now exist somewhere, exactly as it was at first
' FATIIKR OSWALD.
revealed, for God is truth, and can neither change what he has
once revealed, nor reveal contradictory things to different per-
sons. . . . Where, then, is this religion! . . . and why may
not Protestantism be if? ... I have o:'ten heard Dr. Davisoh
spc;;k of the purity of the Protestant religion in Geneva ; I have
a mind to go thither, and examine into the matter myself; how-
ever, I shall keep an eye of observation on all .the Catholic
superstitions I may meet with, if it were but to refute them to
poor de;<r Emma ; but how could she ever imagine she had ibund
the truth in that most superstitious of all superstitious f..iths, is
beyond my comprehension. I used to think she had a very clear
judgment, and it is most strange how she can have got so bewil-
dered in this most important affair, for important it is, a ter all,
as I know too well by the terrors my soul was in when at the
point of death, not very rnanv weeks ago. No, no, il is highly
necessary to make up one's mind upon the faith we ought to
live in before we come to the awful moment of giving up our
soul into the terrible hands of the living God, so I will e'en lose
no more time about it, but begin and siit the matler tnoroughly,
and may God grant me the grace to embrace the truth, and live
up to it when I lind it." Having come to this resolve, Edward
fflt his heart lighter than Ibr some time past ; he rung the bell,
and gave orders to Luigi. to prepare for their immediate depar-
ture for Switzerland. Luigi had rejoined his master about a
week before this, and rejoiced at the prospect of their being once
more c.n- vm/n^e, after their disastrous visit to Paris. The next
day, Monsieur La Harpe called, and Sefton told him that he
should be off in a few days to Switzerland. La Harpe was
fearful that his friend was going to expose his scarcely regained
strength too soon, and tried in vain to retain him a little longer
in Paris. At length, the kindly feelings of the affectionate old
man induced him to offer to accompany Sefton as far as Geneva,
where he said he had some old friends, whom he would be glad
to visit. Another and a stronger motive he had, which made
him wish to retreat from the turbulent and unsettled state of
Paris. He had within the last few days witnessed the most out-
rageous insults offered to religion, churches sacrilegiously de-
secrated, the archbishop expelled, and narrowly escaping de-
struction, his palace demolished, the image of the crucified
Redeemer broken, insulted, and even dragged through the filthy
channels. His heart sickened, and he heartily wished himself
many leagues away from these awful scenes of sacrilege and
profanity. Sefton gladly accepted his proposal, for he had al-
ready experienced the loneliness of feeling caused by travelling
without a companion. Before he took his departure from Paris,
FATHER OSWALD-
103
he called at the convent of the Sisters of Chant)-, to thank sister
Angela for all the anxious care and kind attention she had
shown him, during so many tedious days of illness ; at the same
time wishing to make an acknowledgment to the convent, ot
his esteem and gratitude, he presented them with a check on his
banker foi a very handsome sum of money. The Superioress
gracefully declined it, alleging lor excuse, that they were not
accustomed to look for any temporal reward tor the oflices of
charity which they performed.
" Receive it, then, as an alms to your convent,' said t
"for I wm inibrmed you sometimes receive alms; and when 1
look about here, and see the nakedness and poverty of your hab-
itation I am convinced your receipts do not overbound.
" On that title," replied the Superioress with dignified :our-
tesy "1 will thankfu.ly receive it Our community is .arge
and our means scanty. The grateful prayers oi jhe sisterhood
shall not be wanted lor the generous Englishman."
"I feel convinced/' said Sefton with some emotion, "that the
God of mercy and of love can never reject the prayers of these,
his ministering angels of charity."
Sister Angela then approached, and presented Sefton a silver
medal of the Blessed Virgin, attached to a silken cord, begging
of him to accept and wear it in his bosom, in honour ot her
whoso image was there expressed. Sefton was taken by surprise ;
he knew not how either to receive cr decline the proffered gilt.
After a short pause, during which his countenance betrayed his
perplexity, he at length said with some trepidation
' Sister Angela, there is nothing I would not do to gratify you
as tar as conscience might allow; but pardon me, I canno 1
brin" myself to promise you to wear that medal in honour of tne
Virgin. I have been too long accustomed to consider that a su-
perstitious practice."
"Rather pardon me," said sister Angela, "lor makms
proposal, but I really thought your good sense was superior to a
prejudice so groundless."
" How so 1"
" I observed in the hospital with what raptures you received
again the restored miniature of your wife; kissing it, and press-
in-^ it to your bosom, without any scruple of superstition.
" True " replied Sefton with a deep blush of confusion, " but
there is a great difference between the two."
" I see no difference," said sister Angela, " but in the object
of these external imirks of respect. You wear the image of
your beloved wife next to your heart ; you cherish it there, out
of affection to her; the action is simple and natural, and springs
164 FATHER OSWALD.
from a kindly and holy motive. No\v. I only ask you to wear
this medal out of affection to the Mother of the Redeemer;
where is the superstition in that?"
" Pardon me. sister Angela, I do not feel that affection for the
Virgin which I feel for my wile; 1 respect, and even venerate
her, as the mother of Jesus Christ, but I cannot love her so as
to put my trust in her "
" Well, well," said the nun, smiling, " at least wear the medal
out of respect and veneration to her."
" Excuse me, it is impossible ; I really cannot do it. Bid me
wear it lor your sake, as a token of my obligations to you, as a
memorial of your kindness, and I will accept it, I will press it
to my heart, that the remembrance of you may never be can-
celled thence."
' Well, then, wear it for my sake, and as often as you cast
your eyes upon it, remember that there is a poor nun whose
humble prayers shall be daily offered for your eternal welfare;
she will invoke the Holy Virgin's protection for you, and in the
hour of affliction or distress perhaps at the sight of the medai
you may be induced to seek aid where it was never sought in
vain."
A tear struggled in the eye of Sefton as he held out his hand
to receive the rncdal; he threw the cord round hte neck, and
promised to wear the rnedal for the sake of Angela : he then
took his leave of the religious, and in a few days left Paris.
The change of scene and air performed wonders in recruiting
the invalid, and his spirits rose with the hope of soon being abh
to rub up his Protest, mtism, and have his mind set al rest on re-
ligious matters. One day, while they were changing horses ir;
a small village, Seiton, struck with its picturesque situation, got
out of the carriage to examine it more carefully; observing
there was no church, which was a rare thing, even in France .
he asked an old man who was seated at his cabin door, where-
abouts the church might be.
"Alas! Sir," answered the peasant, sighing, "we have no
church in our little hamlet."
" How is that, my friend 1" inquired Sefton.
" Because," said the poor man. with a tremulous quiver of
his lip, " the guillotine was placed in our beautiful little church
during the reign of terror ; and every thing that was sacred and
holy in it was profaned and dcstroved."
" Oh, my God ! how horrible !" exclaimed Sefton ; " I cannot
conceive such licentious barbarity."
"Alas! tnat was not all, Sir," said the old man, while the
tear trickled down his rugged cheek : li in that very church, and
FATHER OSWALD. 1G5
by that rery guillotine, I lost the wife of my bosom, and my two
ohiy sons;' executed, martyred, I may say, on the very spot
where they were baptized."
"How very shocking! poor old man ! I wonder not at your
grief, 1 ' said Edward compassionately, "but for what supposed
crime were you thus bereft of those so near and dear to yoa "
" Because in those days it was a crime to be religious, and it
was against reason tc believe in God and the hoiy Catholic
lailh : our poor o'd Curate's life was sought; he was sheltered
in our house, but he was soon discovered and beheaded, and my
wile and sons massacred because they had sought to save the
life of an innocent fellow-creature."
<: How contrary, nay, how shoe-king to all reason and jus-
tice !" said Edward with much emoiiou.
"Yes, Sir; they talked of liberty, but they would not allow
a poor Catholic to have the liberty of believing the word of the
Son ol God, nor of practising ihe divine religion taught by Him:
and what did they offer us in return 1 the horrors of incredulity,
and the practice of every species of the most Horrible crimes "
The old man paused, and vrrung his hands, "And now," said
he, ll I, who was once weii olF, happy, and content wilh my
country and religion, am a poor, miserable, beggared outcast,
deprived orall the comforts of life, Snd the consolations of my
faith; our once beautiful church is now a stable, and before 1
can hear Mass or receive the Sacraments, I have to walk some-
limes ten or fifteen miles."
The poor man sunk down on the slone bench by the cabin
door, and covered his face with his withered hands. At this
moment the carriage, with the fresh horses, came galloping up.
Edward, breathing a few words of comfort to the poor old man,
and putting into his hands a liberal alms, jumped into the vehi-
cle, and was out of sight in an instant.
" Well," said Sefton eagerly, " I do grant you one concession,
La Harpe; namely, that the spirit of revolutionary liberty ap-
pears better in theory than it works in practice."
" And when did you make that wonderful discovery 7" said La
Harpe, laughing, and looking up irom the travelling map over
which he was poring.
" Just now : I often have doubted it, and discussed the point
in my own mind, but now I am convinced: such horrors as I
have just heard ! enough to make one's blood ru Jt cold."
Sefton then related to his friend the little episode of the old
French peasant : ' Xow." continued he, " what was the conse-
quence in practice of this revolutionary liberty this pretended
reason, in destroying all religion, but crime, and injustice, and
15
IG6 tATHER OSWALD.
misery: crime in (he perpetrators of such horrid massacres,
injustice in the destroying of public property, and individual
liberty and right, and misery to those individuals as well as to
the perpetrators themselves 1 for I am convinced these revolu-
tionary tigers must have had a very hell of remorse within their
own souls."
" Yes." observed La Harpe mournfully ; 1: incredulity does
not produce peace of mind."
" No," continued Sefton ; '' I know that full well, from the
slight taste I have had of it: one might almost draw an infer-
ence from the feeling of uncertain horror which seems to darken
the soul, and the anxiety and troubles of spirit which wither all
the generous and tranquil sensibilities of the heart, that scepti-
cism is not suued to man."
" There can be no doubt," said Monsieur La Harpe, " but that
absolute incredulity, which reduces a soul to the lowest degree
of degradation, brings with it a kind of Hell. I remember one
day he ring Monsieur Viennetsay to Monsieur Benjamin-Con-
stant, ' I find myself very unhappy in believing nothing; if I
had children, I would preserve them from this misfortune by
giving them a Christian education, and it' there were still Jesuits,,
I think I should place them in one of their colleges.' 'It is
the same with me,' replied Monsieur Benjamin-Constant. 'I
am a perfect sceptic; sind this scepticism is a feeling which
wears me. I wish I could believe in any thing, were it only in
magnetism ; but 1 cannot believe in that more than in any thing
else, and this feeling causes me an indescribable torment.'
IS T ow, does not this acknowledgment," continued La Harpe,
" which truth has so often drawn from the most incredulous,
prove to demonstration, that without religious faith, man can
never be happy T'
" It seems so, indeed," said Sefton, sighing, "and it proves
also the truth of Montesquieu's observation, when he says, ' It is
n wonderful thing that the Christian religion, which seems only
to have for its object our felicity in the next world, should never-
theless constitute our happiness in this.' "
" It is a very true and a very just observation," answered La
Harpe.
"Again, on the other hand, ' continued Sefton, musing, " i(
what Montesquieu says be true, how can we account for the
misery and unhappiness occasioned by religious differences
amongst the various classes and sects of Christians 1"
" It is the abuse of religion, and not its use, which occasions
the unhappy consequences you mention," answered La Harpe :
" It is because these different sects are all in error on matters 01
FATHER OSWALD. 16?
faii.-i thai they ere unhappy ; they do not feel certain that what
they oelieve is that which God has revealed, and which it is the
wifl o!' God men should believe: hence arise the u:ih;;ppiiiess
and disagreements you refer to. :>
"How, then, aie we to know exactly what it is the wi.. of
God man should believe 1" exclaimed Edward bitterly. "AH
Christian sects believe that they alone possess the truth ; anJ all
profess to ground their faith on the infallible word of God.
Mow can this be 1 How can God permit weak man to become
thus the sport of his own imagination 1 How can this be re-
conciled with the perfections of the Daitvl Oh ! surely the con-
templation of the governing will of God in all things must ne-
cessarily lead to melancholy; because the existence of evil,
causes the mind to entertain doubts of the perfection of the
divine goodness. 1 '
" The permission of evil is a question too abstruse for me to
enter into at this moment." replied La Harpe, "but I think it is
sufficient for us to know that God is infinitely good, just, and
wise; and if he permits evil, it is for the wisest purpose, and to
draw good from evil itself. The permission of evil is a neces-
sary consequence of the fact, that God in his wisdom and good-
ness created man free, 'and left him in the hand of his own
counsel, to choose life or death, good or evil.'* It is an impious
folly in man to call God to account for what He has done. He
will or.t day justify His ways be.'ore men. If on our pr:rt we
avoid evil, and do good, we have no reason to be melancholy.
Catholics, who are all perfectly certain of the truth of their own
faith, are never melancholy on that score, and are everywhere
more cheerful than the gloomy Calvinist or sanctimonious
Methodist."
" It Certainly is something surprising to observe," answered
Sefton, "how every Catholic is so satisfied with his own reli-
gion. at least every Catholic that I have yet seen.' 1
" They have every reason to be perfectly sn'isfied, my good
friend," said La Harpe, smiling, ' : as you would find were you
to act up to yuur own principles as a Protestant, and thoroughly
examine the foundations upon which the Catholic laiih is
grounded."
" I fear I should be a long while in arriving at the foundations
through the mass of superstition and bigotry which surrounds
them," said Sefton sarcastically; "no, no, when we get to Ge-
neva, I intend to examine the foundations o! the Protestant faith
thoroughly, which will be much more to the purpose."
La Harpe smiled and shook his head. " I deny entirely thai
* Ecn 1 xv. 14 & 18.
168 PATIIEU OSWALD.
you Protestants have any fail/i at all: you have nothing but
opinion. Now 'without faith it is impossible to please God,'
are the words inspired by Truth itself."
" Why, what is any man's faith but his opinion or persuasion !'
asked Sefton.
" Opinion." replied La Harpe, "is the persuasion of man's
mind grounded upon probable, though not certain motives.
Hence, we frequently change our opinions as we see more or
less probability in the motives. Divine -faith, on the contrary, is
grounded on the certain and infallible Word of God, which can
never suffer change. You Protestants often change your opi-
nions, as you see more or less of probability in your interpreta-
tion of the Bible; hence, I say, you have opinion, not faith.
At this moment Luigi turned towards them with an air ol
mysterious triumph, and exclaimed in a low but audible voice,
" Gentlemen, Mont Blanc."
They both looked in the direction in which Luigi pointed,
and gazed on the snow-covered mountain which appeared in the
blue distance. A succession of beautiful scenery now wrapt
their attention in wonder and admiration for several hours, and
Sefton exclaimed, as they approached the little inn where they
were to pass the night, " After all, adoring the Deity in Hi"
wonderful works is worth a thousand controversial differences
and who knows but this adoration of the heart, accompanies
with a good life, may be all He requires of us'!"
"I know for one," said La Harpe; "because the inspired
Apostle himself has said 'without failh'it is impossible to please
God;'* and simply to adore God and lead what you call a
moral life, would but reduce us to the condition of those enlight-
ened Athenians who worshipped the unknown God."
Sexton groaned.
" Examine, examine thoroughly, that is all I ask of you, " said
La Harpe."
" I will, my friend, I will," said Sefton ; " wait till we get to
Geneva, I hope to find the truth there."
La Harpe smiled incredulously; Luigi opened the carriage
icor, and they entered the lowly threshold of the Mountain Inn,
where they were to find shelter for the night.
* Heb. xi. 6
FATHER OSWALD. 168
CHAPTER XXI.
We now reject each mystic creed,
, To common sense a scandal ;
We 're more enlightened yes, indeed,
The Devil holds the candle.
EPIGRAM
THE next morning, the travellers were off early, and enjoyed
a Jay of delicious mountain scenery. Se!ton was even more
gratified with Switzerland than he had anticipated, and the ten
days spent in travelling over the different Cantons and exploring
their ever-varying beauties, seemed to ny with fairy speed. On
arriving at Geneva, Seven's first visit was to the post-office,
where he found letters of introduction from Dr. Davison to some
of the principal processors and literati, at Geneva. The next
morning, aftei breakfast, Edward made his round of visits: he
was particularly struck with the appearance of Professor fepiel-
mann. He was an old man of venerable appearance, with
someibing in his manners that invited confidence. Sefton ac-
cordingly contrived to turn the conversation on that now upper-
mi st in his mind religion, and mentioned, as if casutiiy, some
of the difficulties upon Protestantism which he had heard in
Paris, particularly in relation to the Trinity.
""Well, well," my excellent young friend," said the Professor,
with two or three slow and patronizing nods of his head, i: I
think you take these matters too seriously indeed, I am sure
of it. You will find many, very many excellent and worthy
divines in Geneva, who rationally enough do not think it neces-
sary to believe several of the antiquated dogmas which Protest-
ants at first acquiesced in without sufficient examination ; more
light has by degrees gleamed on these subjects, particularly with
regard to the superior nature of Christ, the personality of the
Holy Spirit, the Incarnation, and the Atonement, with its attend-
ant mysteries. I assure you, you will find that the great mass
of Protestants of all denominations have cast off these dogmas
as fictions and absurdities, unworthy of an enlightened age."
Sefton could not repress his astonishment, and both his look
and manner testified pain and surprise.
"I did not say that 1 exactly agreed with all the explanations
given by rational Protestants on the dogmas I have just men-
tioned," continued the Processor, observing the agitated expres-
sion on Sefton's speaking countenance; " but with regard to the
Trinity, upon which you seem to have had some difficulties, it
15*
170 FATHER OSWALD.
is my opinion that that dogma may be removed without, scruple
from religious instruction, as being a novel doctrine, without
foundation and contrary to reason ; but," added he, lowering his
voice and .shaking his head solemnly, "it must be clone with
great circumspection, that weak Christians may not take scandal
at it, or make it a pretext to reject all religion : for you must tw
aware that the greatest part of our people are not yet sufficiently
enlightened to look upon the truth in its' naked simplicity. They
have been too long accustomed to regard religion through the
mist of mystery. We must humour their prejudices for a while.
Our hope is in the rising generation, which a better system of
education is preparing for brighter days."
Seiton felt both indignation and disgust; however, he sup-
pressed his rising emotion, and observed as calmly as he could,
that Dr. Davison. who had studied much of his theology at Ge-
neva, held and preached very different tenets.
" I do not doubt it, my good Sir, in the least," answered the.
Pro.'essor; "poor Davison! he was always a good-natured,
simple soul : a great ally of mine at one time, but too apt to
take things on credit; however, it is not his fault if his mind
has not marched with the age Intercourse with some of the
enlightened spirits of modern times would be of infinite service
to him."
"But, Sir," said Edward dryly, "after all, belief in the
Trinity is one of the Thirty-nine Articles of the Church of
England."
"Whew! whew!" said the Professor, putting his forefinger
to his nose, and shutting one of his eyes with an inexpressibly
sly wink, "You surely know it is nowise necessary for a good
rational Protestant to believe in the Thirty-nine Articles of your
Church; we of Geneva never admitted them from the beginning,
and we know quite well that the most learned of your Church-
men are heartily sick of them."
"Luther and Calvin, I imagine, believed in the Trinity at
least," observed Sefton coolly.
"Luther believed, too. in a real presence in the Sacrament,'
said the Processor sarcastically, " which smells far too strong of
Popery to be endured; if he was wrong in one article, he might 4
be wrong in another. But perhaps I am wronging the grand
patriarch of Protestantism. I have been long persuaded in my
own mind, that both Luther and Calvin, and most of their co-
operators, were loo clear-headed not to see the ultimate conse-
quences of their immortal principle that every man. must judge
for himself in matters of faith, and therefore no man can be-
lieve what he cannot comprehend. Mysteries and miracles
must therefore be eliminated Irom rational faith."
FATHER OSWALD l"l
SePon was confounded; he knew not what to reply, for in
nis disputes with Catholics he had often urged the same maxim,
that a .man could not be obliged to believe what he did noi
understand. At length he ventured upon a reply which he had
often heard from Catholics.
" I think. Sir." said he, " we act very rationally in believing
whatever God has revealed to us, for that must necessarily be
true, however it may surpass our very limited comprehension ;
let me once clearly understand that God has revealed a truth,
and then / must and will most gratefully bow every power o!
my soul to receive and adore it."
" Oh, oh !" said the Doctor, " I see which way the wina
sets. 1 tell you, young man, if you once renounce the rights of
your own judgment, if you once hoodwink reason, some sly
knave or other will soon lead you into all the mazes of Popish
superstition."
" No fear of that," replied Sefton, " for there is a wide differ-
ence between submitting humbly to the incomprehensible mys-
teries of God, really revealed, and following blindly the super-
stitions of Rome, which are the fond inventions of men."
"Beware," said the Pro lessor ; "you do not know the
craftiness of the Roman clergy; they are not such fools as to
propose at first to your implicit belief any silly superstition
mystery or miracle until they have inveigled you by theii
xophisrns into the belief that God has so revealed it. If you
give up the right of judging for yourself, you will cease to be h
Protestant.' 1
"That I shall never do," replied Sefton with earnestness-
"yet, in exercising the free right of my own judgment, I must
be allowed to think, tha.. God may reveal, and really has rcvealer
many things which I cannot fathom. I am sure that the firs'
fathers of the Reformation and the best and wisest men that
have adorned it, admitted many unsearchable mysteries, such as.
ihe Trinity, Incarnation, and the like."
"The works of the great fathers of Protestantism," replied
Processor Spielmann, "have not been sufficiently studied b
their followers, nor has sufficient allowance been made for UK
times and circumstances in which they appeared. The brigfr'
light of reason did not burst upon them all at once, but gradu-
ally developed itself, t:nd, one by one, chased away the shadows
of their earlier education. When they did see the light in noon-
lide blaze, they prudently withheld it from the gaze of their be
tighted followers and contemporaries, as it would then have
only dazzled, not allured them to the truth. They were con-
,emed to be the harbingers of more glorious days which we nov
I
l72 FATHER OSWALD.
enjoy. Hence, at first they really did believe, and afterwards
a fleeted to believe, though not without insinuating many se-
rious doubts several of the mysteries of the ancient doctrine.
They sowed, indeed, thp fruitful seed, and we live to reap the
abundan.t harvest."
Sefton sickened in his inmost soul, as he listened to this ex-
traordinary avowal of a learned Doctor and Professor in the
first chair of Protestant theology in Europe. He was unable to
make a reply.
" Come, come," continued the Doctor, seeing that Sefton
looked puzzled, " I shall take you to-morrow, as it will be Sun-
day, to hear one of the finest preachers we have in Geneva, Dr.
Unteisteken ; he is a profound divine, and a most liberal and
enlightened man. I am sure you will be delighted with him."
Se;ton thanked him, and gladly accepted the offer. He then
took his leave, and promised TO be with the Professor the nexl
morning at ten o'clock. He returned to his hotel with a heavy
heart and his mind more confused than ever. He in vain tried
to fix his attention on the book he was reading; it wandered
every moment back to Professor Spielmann and his extraordinary
conversation. He attempted to write to Emma, but it would
not do. At length dinner-time came, and Monsieur La Harpe,
who had been paying visits during the morning, made his ap-
pearance. During dinner Edward was silent and gloomy ; he
made several ineffectual attempts to shake off his uneasiness,
out the whole burden of the conversation was sustained by La
Harpe, who observed his friend's uneasiness, but prudently for-
bore noticing it. At length, when the servants had withdrawn,
and they were left alone with their dessert, Sefton told La Harpe
(he whole history of his visit to Professor Spielmann, and con
eluded by expressing his extreme surprise at what he termed
such heterodox and latitudinarian principles of faith.
"I am not at all suprised at the Professor," said La Harpe
, quietly ; " I told you before, that you Protestants had no divine
faith at all, you have merely human opinion. Protestants be-
lieve to-day what they opine to be true, and to-morrow they
change their faith with their opinion. Now, it seems to me,
lhat consistently speaking, Professor Spielmann has as much
right to deny the Trinity, as you have to deny the real presence
in the blessed Eucharist. You know the Apostle affirms, thai
without faith, it is impossible to please God'; therefore I am not
a all surprised that any reflecting Protestant, who examines his
3\rn religion, should be uneasy, and very uneasy too, when he
:omcs to see the sandy foundations on which it rests, and the
dangers to which it exposes him "
FATHER OSWALD. 171
" Dangers ! what dangers V
" Why, the danger of becoming a sceptic and an infidel, the
ruinger of displeasing God and of losing his immortal soul.
These ministers at Geneva have already passed the irrevocable
barrier ; they have held out the hand of fellowship to Deists and
to the enemies of the faith. They even blush to make mention
in their catechisms of Original Sin, without which the Incar-
nation of the Eternal Word is no longer necessary."
" Very extraordinary 1 /' muttered Sefton; " I had no idea of it."
" I have known it a long time," answered La Harpe ; " why,
you may remember that even in Rousseau's time the opinions
of the Genevese Protestants had conducted them pretty lar; for
he says in one of his letters, ' when they are asked if Jesus
Christ is God, they do not dare to answer; when asked what
mysteries they admit, they still do not dare to answer; a philoso-
pher.' continues he, ' casts upon them a rapid glance, and pene-
trates them at once ; he sees they are Arians, Socinians, and
heretics of the most dangerous kind.' "
" Where, then, is to be found faith, what yon call faith.,
without which it is impossible to please God 1" said Seiion
despondingly.
" In the Church founded by Jesus Christ himself," answered
La Harpe ; " the Church to which He has promised to teach all
truths to the end of the world; but you will not find it in Pro-
testantism, which is a nonentity of a religion. Protestants are
entirely separated from the Church of Jesus Christ, and conse-
quently are separated from Jesus Christ himself, who, as St.
Paul says, purchased to Himself a Holy Church at the price ol
Irlis blood. Protestants despise the Pope, the bishops, and all
the ministers of the Church of Jesus Christ, and consequently
they despise Jesus Christ himself, who has said, ' He who de-
spiseth you, despiseth me.' "*
" You are too severe, Sir, much too severe !" exclaimed Sef
ton, sharply ; " Protestants do not despise Jesus Christ."
"Perhaps not in theory, but in practice, which is worse,''
said La Harpe ; " it is too obvious from their refusal to comply
with his words. Far be it from me," added he with emotion.
" to be severe on any one; but you ask me where true faith is
to be found, and I should not be your friend if I gave you a
prevaricating answer. According to what you have yourself
stated to me, Protestants have no fixed belief, or rather they
believe nothing: neither have they the slightest regard to the
order which Jesus Christ gave to the ministers of his Chn.ch,
'to teach all nations,' since they make no account of what the
* Luke r 1
174 FATHER OSWALD.
Church teaches, decides, and prescribes in virtue of tnat divine
mission: on the contrary, each individual may regulate his
belief by his own opinion, and change it according to his fancy,
or deny any thing according to his own caprice; incurring thn.s
the anathema pronounced by Jesus Christ, ' He that believeth
not, shall be condemned.' "*
' Iu other words," interrupted Sefton impatiently, "yon mean
to tell me, that the Catholic Church is the Church founded by
Jesus Christ, and that the true faith is to be found only in that
Church."
" Exactly so," said La Harpc.
Sefton was silent ibra few minutes, and then said vehemently,
" I never will believe that Jesus Christ requires us to give credit
to all the gross superstitions and traditions of the Catholic
Church, nor that He ever revealed or sanctioned them."
" Perhaps," replied La Harpe, " what you call superstitions
aro not really superstitions, but very well founded pious practices,
of which y >u might even approve, if you understood them ; and
as to the traditions received by the Church, if you took the trou-
ble to examine, you would find their observance commanded in
the Bible. Listen to St. Paul : ' Therefore, brethren, stand fast ;
and hold the traditions which you have learned, whether/'?/ innrd,
or by our cpisttt..1 Thus, we are exhorted to hold the same
steadfast faith, whether it be handed down to us by word of
mouth, or by a written document. And surely it is as easy ior
God to preserve the purity of faith in his Church by one means
as by the other."
" I cannot think so;" said Sefton, "do we not see daily the
most simple story wonderfully changed and metamorphosed
when it has run through the editions of three or four months."
" No doubt," said La Harpe quietly, " wlicre there is no jrro-
nits f>f the Spirit, of Ti'u'h lo guide it.''
" Well, give me the Bible after all ; that cannot be changed "
" No doubt, as long as the same Spirit of truth watches over
its preservation."
" Well, well, I must be greatly changed indeed." said Se'ton
bitterlv, " before I can receive the traditions of your Church;
it would require a miracle, I think, to make me a Catholic : no,
no; that is not very likely."
" Every thing is possible to the grace of God," said La Harpe
feelingly.
" I do not desire such a grace, I am sure !" exclaimed Se'ton,
vehemently; "but no," added he, suddenly stopping, ' I <!o
desire that God would enable me to find out the truth, because
* Mark xvi. 16 t 2 Then. ii. 14
FATHER OSWALD. 175
t reallv \visi* '.o believe what is right, and to save my soul ; but
it' I feei certain of any thing in this world, it is of the corruption
01' the Catholic Church."
"Bravo!" exclaimed La Harpe, laughing; "only examine,
but examine with that candour and sincerity which the impor-
tance of the matter requires. Remember, that salvation depends
upon a right determination. Let no human consideration bias
your resolution ; keep steadily in your mind the maxim of our
Lord. ' What will it avail a" man if he gain the whole world
and iose his own soul V but again, I entreat you to examine."
" That I certainly intend to do, were it only to amuse myself,
and enable me to reclaim my poor deluded Emma," replied Ed-
ward wilh a sigh, and an expression of regret and melancholy
on his fine countenance, which went quite to La Harpe's heart
Selton rose and took his candle, saying he wished to finish a
letter to her for the morrow's post.
CH APT ER XX11.
" The spirit that I have seen
May be a devil : and the devil hath power
To assume a pleasing shape." SHAKSPEARE.
THE next morning at. ten o'clock, Edward, punctual ton:'.?
engagement, called on Professor Spielrnann, who accompanied
him to hear the sermon of the celebrated Doctor Untersteken.
Selton was all anxiety, and listened with absorbing attention, in
the eager hope of hearing the Word of God delivered in its pure
and per.'cct truth, and in the full expectation of finding some
repose (or his agitated conscience. The exterior of the preacher
was by no means prepossessing, but he was eloquent, and his
stvle had something in it that insensibly riveted the attention.
His discourse could scarcely be called a sermon, as it was rather
a review of the ancient and new dogmas of the Christian faiih,
in which he very coolly set aside the Trinity, Original Sin.
Justification, the Satisfaction of Christ, Baptism, and the Lord's
Supper, astaushtin hisown Church. He took particular pa ins
to sift the doctrinal part of the New Testament of its irratinnal-
ism ; but the main object of his discourse was evidently to
reconcile to the laws of reason and nature those deviations from
the course of both, which its recorded miracles preseut: he en-
170 FATh&R OSWAL1>.
deavoured to show, that " many of these miracles were mere
exaggerations of natural phenomena ; that the wonderful cures
performed by Christ might be the effects of animal magnetism, or
some other natural, though occult power; he even went so far
as to assert, that though Christ seemed to the bystanders to ex-
pire on the cross, yet he probably only swooned from loss of
blood, and after a few hours, being given up to the sedulous care
of his friends, he returned to a conscious state, and lay concealed
until the third day. Thus, the most rational way of accounting
for the resurrection, as detailed by the Evangelists, was to con-
sider it as a sort of poetic mythus, which was to be received in
some moral or allegorical sense; this being clear from theepis-
tJes of Paul who continually applies it to that purpose." No
words can describe the astonishment of Edward, nor the desola-
tion and oppression of heart which he experienced as he hur-
ried out of the church; he disembarrassed himself of the ccm-
pany of Professor Spiplmann by a marked and haughty how at
the church door, and hastened back to the hotel, where he had
promised to rejoin La Harpe after the service, that they might
together explore some of the environs of Geneva. Sefton was
partly in hopes that his friend would not ask him any thing about
the sermon ; but in this he was mistaken ; for as soon as they
were fairly out of town, La Harpe said to him, " Well my good
friend, how did you like your celebrated preacher V
Sefton hesitated a little, and then said in a careless tone, " 1
can't say I. was so much pleased with Doctor Untersteken as I
had expected ;: still he is certainly eloquent.
"Then it was the matter which did not please, I imagine 1"
replied La Harpe.
Se.ton paused a moment, and then said, " Well, Sir, to speak
candidlv, I have been not only very much disappointed, but
very much disgusted."
Seiton then gave him a detailed account of the sermon, and
added with a deep sigh
" I fear from all this, revealed religion is at a very low ehh
indeed at Geneva: truly, if I had shut my eyes, I might have
fane ed myself in a Jewish synagogue, or listening to the effu-
sions of some philosopher in Paris. Certainly, I should be puz-
zled to draw a line o; demarkation between the rationalists oi
Switzerland and the Deists of France."
" Oh ! my dear Sefton, you see again clearly the dire effects
of the Protestant principle pushed to its full extent. .There is,
in fact, no distinction between rationalism and Deism : of the
two, the Deists are the more honest; they have no pretensions
to religion, while the rationalists wear the mask; alas ! I fear it
FATHER OSWALD. 1TJ
will not te long before you will have plenty of them in En^-
.ana."
" I trust not,' 1 replied Edward ; " but then to deny the miracles
of the Redeemer, which established and confirmed His divine
nission, seems to me the very essence of inconsistency, if they
admit, as the}' pretend, the authenticity of the Bible, or that in
His person were fulfilled the prophecies of the Old Testament."
"Truly," said La Harpe, smiling, "the Protestants of these
enlightened times are very happy in their orthodoxy ! I wonder
how the poor, ignorant, primitive Christians, could find the way
to Heaven. They lived near the limes o!' Christ and his Apos-
tles. They highly valued and diligently read the Scriptures,
and some of them wrote commentaries upon them ; but yet it
seems they knew little or nothing of their religion!"
Seiton groaned aloud.
"And then again/' continued E,a Hnrpe, "these enlightened
rationalists seem to have entirely forgotten the pains so many of
the incredulous Jews look to discredit our Saviour's miracles, to
deny His divinity, and more especially the great and vital mira-
cle of the Resurrection, upon the truth of which depended the
establishment of His divinity and the truth of His doctrines:
but all was unavailing, even in those days, when the personal
and bitter enemies of the Saviour did their utmost to prevent the
establishment of His divine religion."
" Yes, it cannot be denied that the truths taught by our Sa-
viour, and which ought to be the objects of our firm faith if we
hope to be saved, were established by miracles wrought both by
Christ and His Apostles Now, if miracles had not long ago
ceased, one might, amidst the chaos of all the different sects of
Christians, know yet where to find the one. true faith, the sarae
as it existed in the time of Christ and His .Apostles: lor Go.l
certainly would not work a miracle to establish and propagate a
falsehood. But there are no miracles now; and truth does in-
deed lie at the bottom of a well."
" Miracles have -not ceased," said La Hyrpe, " nor is the
promise of our Saviour null and void, when Ho assures his fol-
lowers that they 'who believe in Him, shall work even greater
miracles than He himself.'* Now that promise was nol limited
to any time; and in all ages miracles have taken place, and still
take place, amongst the faithful l>eJievers in Christ."
" I'll tell you what, La Harpe/' exclaimed Sefton fervently,
' if I could once be fully convinced of the existence of a real
miracle taking place in these days, in confirmation of the faith
of any sect of Christians, I would instantly embrace thai faith:
* John xii-. 1'J.
16
178 FATHER OSWALD.
but there is no such thing now ; and what you call miracles, are
no doubt the twaddle and superstition of a set of foolish old men
and women."
" Surely," said La Harpe, " you cannot question the recent
miracle at Migne, so well attested by three or lour thousand eye-
witnesses ?"
" What miracle was that, pray 1"
" Did you never hear of a luminous cross which appeared in
the sky a little after night-fall V
"Yes; now I recollect the. English newspapers related tie
fact, and easily explained it by appealing to the effect of the
magic lantern ; a paltry trick played upon the ignorance of the
jpoor peasants."
" The man who advanced such an explanation, only betrays
his own ignorance," said La Harpe. " Whoever has the slight-
est notion of the laws of light, must know that the thing itself
is impossible. No magic lantern can throw an image on the
vacant air. What, then, must we think of the gullibility of
Englishmen, who can content themselves with such silly rea-
sons'?"
" You are right in your philosophy," replied Sefton. " But
what was the object of so extraordinary a portent 1"
" It is not for us to search too closely into the counsels of
God, but to adore with profound humility whenever we see His
mighty arm stretched forth. You may remember that a mission
had just been concluded with the ceremony of erecting a cross
in the churchyard. The Missionary, standing at the toot of it,
was haranguing a numerous audience, and took occasion to
appeal to the glorious cross which appeared to Constantine.
Twilight was just closing, the sky was serene, and at that mo-
ment a blight and well-defined cross, about sixty feet in length,
appeared in the air in a horizontal position, extending from the
end of the church. The vision lasted for half an hour, and
then gradually faded. Many at the time foreboded evil to
France. Three years have scarcely elapsed, and we have seen
Paris deluged with blood : altars profaned ; and the sacred image
of the crucified Redeemer insulted, broken, and dragged through
ithe kennels of the city- We may surely suppose that God in
His mercy gave this warning to His faithful servants, that they
might rely upon His protection when the day of trial should
arrive."
Sefton listened with fixed attention and deep interest, and
after a short pause, obserred, "Admitting the reality of the fact
and I do not see how it can be denied and considering that
it cannot be explained on physical principles, we must con-
FATHER OSWALD. 179
less that ' the finger of God was there.' Yet I do not see that
ihis prodigy makes more for Catholicity than for Christianity in
general."
" Consider, however, all the circumstances," replied La
Harpe. " A cross is erected ; veneration is paid to it by a pros-
trate multitude ; a zealous missionary exhorts them ever to con-
tinue in their holy sentiments; and he assures them that, like
Constantine, ' in this sign they shall conquer.' Now, these acts
and sentiments are peculiarly Catholic, and God sanctioned them
by an evident miracle."
Sefton was silent, and La Harpe continued : " I could appeai.
to many other modern and well-authenticated miracles, but I will
only mention one, and that is the standing miracle of the lique-
faction of the blood of St. Januarius in Naples, which takes
place twice or thrice in every year."
" Arrant nonsense ! my good Sir, that at least is a mere trick;
I do not doubt that the mad enthusiasm of the common people
make them fancy they see it liquei'y ; but I shall never believe
any such humbug."
" Supposing you were to see it with your own eyes." askea
La Harpe, inquiringly, " what-would you say then?"
"I shall never see any such thing," said befton, " and there-
fore I need not trouble myself about what would be the result ot
such a sight ; I think I should sooner doubt my own eye-sight,
and believe I was deluded by some trick."
" You had better examine the matter, I think," said La Harpe.
" To be sure, I intend to examine it," replied Sefton, " in or-
der that I may have the satisfaction of contradicting all the false
statements which I have so often heard."
" Well, lam content if you fairly examine it, "said La Harpe;
<: but tell me candidly Sefton, did you ever hear of Luther or
Calvin working miracles 1"
" No, I certainly never did," answered he, unable to suppress
a smile, "nor old Harry the Eighth either; he was not quite
saint enough for that, with his six wives."
"Nor Luther, with his Catherine Bore; and yet they pre-
tended they had a mission from Heaven to deny and change the
divine truths revealed to mankind by the Son ot the living God."
Edward seemed struck with this remark, End La Harpe con-
tinued, " Did you ever read the history of the introduction cl
Christianity into the East, by St. Francis Xavier 1"
" Yes," said Edward, " I have read his lite, by Dryden, and
very beautifully written it is."
" Well, there are many miracles related of him, wrought in
confirmation of his mission : now, what religion did he establish
there V
180 F.1THER OSWALD.
" The Catholic religion, I believe," said Selton, looking a littr
foolish. " but that was ages ago."
" It was just about the lime of the Reformation," obse: fed La
Harpo, " and at the very time God established the truth of the
Catholic religion in Asia by miracles, Luther, Calvin, and Henry
the Eighth, tor the gratification of their own passions, thought
proper to change it, and to declare that the Catholic Church had
i'allen into error."
At this point of their conversation, they turned the sharp
corner of a projecting rock, and came suddenly upon a party
seated on the grass, who were busily engaged in demolishing a
dcjinnii a la ftiurclic.lle. To Selton's agreeable surprise, he re-
cognized amongst them his old friend, the Bishop of S ,
who introduced him to Mrs. Boren, and also to Captain Boren,
arid his sister Lavinia, his eldest son and daughter. La Harpe
and Sel'ton joined the luncheon party, and they spent the re-
mainder of the day together. The Bishop and his 1'amilv were
on their way to Rome, where they proposed passing the winter ;
he insisted that Sefton and his friend should dine with them on
ihe following day, which they accordingly did. In the evening,
I he captain and the ladies went to the theatre, when Sefton took
that opportunity of relating to the Bishop the observations he
had made on religion sinr<: his arrival in Geneva, particularly
descanting on Doctor Unicrsteken's sermon.
" It is an alarming degree of incredulity," observed the Bishop,
" but it does not surprise me; it only convinces me more of the
wisdom of what some people are pleased to term a new sect of
Protestants,* to which Oxford has had the honour of giving birth,
and to which 1 am much inclined myself."
"Ah! indeed; 1 have not heard of it," said Sefton eagerly.
" Great caution is requisite in any change or modification of
doctrines," said the Bishop solemnly; " but when we have such
men as Pusey, Newman, and Keble. as supporters, I think we
need not much fear error."
' What are the doctrines of this new sect, my Lord V asked
Sefion, looking at the same time a little uneasily in the direc-
tion where La Harpe was seated, reading a newspaper.
" Why," answered the Bishop, "they principally contend thai
the Church is the sole depository of divine truth, which is no/
merely in the Bible, but also in tradition, as handed down to u>
in the \vritings of the early Christian Fathers, and that in iheii
works we must seek for the true exposition of the Scriptures
as well as the primitive practice of all Christian ordinances
The Church, and not the Bible, should be the guide in matten
s/f faith and practice : for the interpretation put upon the Scrip
Usually denominated Fuscyites from one of their leading divines.
FATHER OSWALD. 181
tiires by the Bishops, who are the legitimate successors of the
Apostles, divinely appointed to teach and govern the Church,
must necessarily be the correct one, because they have inherited
the promises of the unerring Spirit, and therefore it is wrong to
put any other construction, or to inquire i'arther into the matter.
They object also to the indiscriminate reading of the Bible ; they
deny that it is the guide of the laity, contending that it should
be restricted to the Clergy, and to the learned; in short, they
virtually prohibit the reading of the Bible to the people, pro-
Lounce the Church infallible, and declare, that through her only
can Divine truth be attained."
" A deal of Catholicity in those doctrines," said La Harpe,
looking up from his newspaper.
" Too much so for my taste." exclaimed Sefton scornfully.
" We must not be rash and hasty, my good friend," replied
the Bishop : " liberty of conscience is a precious Protestant
right of which we may all lawfully avail ourselves."
" Have all the Bishops agVeed upon this doctrine V inquired
La Harpe.
" By no means, Sir. by no manner of means," said Dr. Boren ;
* in England, Monsieur La Harpe, every one may enjoy liN>riy
jf conscience."
"I wish them joy of it," said La Harpe, laughing: "your
jew sect will not be likely to be very uniform in the interpreta-
tion of the Bible, if the heads cannot yet think in concert."
The Bishop looked annoyed, and the two guests shortly after
Sook their leave.
La Harpe cou.d not help rallying Edward on the new Protest-
ani sect a little as they walked home : but as he seemed hurt and
out of spirits, forbore to enlarge on the subject, and turned the
conversation. Poor Sefton retired to bed more puzzled and anx-
ious than ever. He passed a sleepless night ; his soul was
tossed about on a sea of doubts and difficulties. On one hand,
he saw the dark abyss of Rationalism and Deism into which
*he unrestricted right of private judgment must necessarily
plunge the Christian world ; on the other, he trembled at the ap-
parent necessity of interposing authority as a guide to the truth ;
for that must lead directly to Catholicity, a consummation to his
mind as frightful as Rationalism. Yet he could devise no mid-
dle course. His good sense told him, that any auihority less
'.han one absolute, supreme, without appeal, and consequenlly
infallible, could be no authority at all in deciding questions of
laith, and he recoiled from the idea of subjecting his free-bcm
soul to any such bondage.*
* On the " Oxford Movement," the inquisitive render should consult
WlMaaail On the High Church Claims; aiid the Dublin Review, passun
botn for sale by Casserly & Sons, IN. Y
16*
182 FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XXII I.
" God of evening's yellow ray !
God of yonder dawning day,
That rises from ilie distant sea,
Like breathing of Eternity '
Thine the (laming sphere of light,
Thine the darkness of the night '.
Thine are all the gems o'. even,
(iod of Angels, God of Heaven !
God of life, that fade shall never,
Glory to thy name for ever '." HOGG
TIIR wonderful works of God in the beauties of nature have
generally a powerful influence on characters of an ardent tem-
perament, in raising the mind from sublunary things to contem-
plate the ineffable wonders and glories of the Creator, in soo.h-
ing grief, in dissipating melancholy, and calming fierce and
consuming passion. Seilon rose be*lbre it was light the follow-
ing morning, the agitated and desponding state of his mind
prevented sleep: before dawn he was on the borders of the
beautiful lake of Geneva, to watch the glories of the rising sun.
He spent that day in musing melancholy, and in silent commun-
ing with his troubled spirit, now listlessly stretched on the grass
at the verge of the blue Leman, now abandoned in a little skiff
on its calm waters, absorbed and entranced in admiration at the
beautiful scenery around him. It was during the stillness ot
that passive day that Sefton ardently prayed to the great God ol
nature from the inward recesses of his heart, to direct him in
the ways of salvation, and implored the Almighty, that if He
had really established a revealed religion on earth, to enable
him to find it ; it was during the calmness of that day, spent on
the bosom of the lake of Geneva, that he vowed to his own soul
to spare no pains in search of truth, and generously and instantly
to embrace it when found. Twilight had succeeded the rich
and glowing beams of the setting sun, and he had lelt peace and
calm in his heart ere he rejoined La Harpe at the hotel. His
friend with pleasure perceived, that though there was a shade ol
pensive melancholy in Sefton's eye, yet, still his manner and
conversation were more calm and cheerful than he had ever
observed from the first period of their acquaintance. In the
evening, Edward proposed that they should set out the next
morning to visit Mont Blanc and the valley Chainouni. The
succeeding week wa$ accordingly spent in ever-varying emo-
tions of wonder and rapture, at the stupendous beauties of na-
mre which they witnessed. On their return to Geneva, MOD.
FATHER OSWALD. 183
uenr La Harpe joined the friends whom it had been his intention
to visit on leaving Paris, and Seiton set off towards Italy. They
parted with regret, and not without mutual promises of renew-
ing their acquaintance at some future period. As the Bishop of
S and his family proposed remaining another fortnight at
Geneva, not wishing to reach Rome till Christmas, Edward had
no fancy to wait for them, and was thus lorced to the disagree-
able alternative of travelling alone; he amused himself as best
he could t>y " Guide Books" and " Classical Tours," and when
he felt gloomy or oppressed, he consoled his heart by reading
the little "Following of Christ," which sister Angela had given
him; or in meditating on the sublime and wonderful truths and
events recorded in a neat pocket edition of the New Testament,
a parting gift from his friend La Harpe. He made the passage
of the Alps across the Simplon, the beauties of which infinitely
surpassed his most ardent anticipations. He visited on his route
the celebrated university of Pavia, and its exquisite Certosa, and
spent a little lime at the Lago Maggiore, and the Borromian
Isles. In Milan, Parma, Florence, and Siena, he failed not to
examine all that was curious and interesting. Yet how often
did ha during this journey wish for the society of his poor
Emma ; often did he even sorrow and grieve at their separation,
and yearn towards her with feelings of deep affection. Nor
could he stiile the pangs of remorse which he endured at his
conduct towards her. Frequently would he draw from his
bosom her miniature, gaze on it for a while with the ibndest
emotion, press it to his lips, and bathe it with his tears; and still
would he gaze, until he lound relief. As often as he replaced it
nearest to his heart, the sight of the medal would recal the
grateful remembrance of sister Angela, and he again thanked
God, who had sent him in the hour of his utmost need so kind
a benefactress. As Edward approached Rome, his desire to be-
hold the Eternal City increased every moment ; he sedulously
recalled to his imagination all his schoolboy associations with
hat classic spot; he reflected how Rome had ever from imme-
morial ages been an object of the most vivid interest to all na-
tions and countries; and how every citizen of the world could
'laini it r.s his home; he repassed in his mind all he had ever
heard of its unrivalled antiquities, of its classic lore, and of its
spbndid churches, and he concluded with a sigh of regret that
this queen of the universal world should now be the very citadel
of bigotry and superstition. "Yes," added he to himself, - I
shall there see the Pope in all his splendour, and the Catholic
religion in all its vain pomp and magnificence, and shall have
a golden opportuLi.'y of fully convincing myself that Catholicity
184 FATHER OSWALD.
at .east is not the religion founded by the Divine Saviour of
mankind." During tlie last post Irani Ronciglione, he was all
eagerness to catcli the first glimpse of this long desired object;
yet on the approach to Rome from the Tuscan road, it does not
burst upon the traveller in that collected splendour v/hich early
associations and an ardent imagination had led him to antici-
pate. The dome of St. Peter's is first visible, and as one ap-
proaches nearer to the desired object to the city which has suck
claims on the recollections of the classic such ties on fhe heart
and feelings of the Christian, the surrounding objects of Nature.
the very ground, the trees, the whole scene appear to assume a
majestic character of still and solemn calmness, which one sen-
sibly and deeply feels. It was nearly dusk when Selton entered
the Porta del Popolo ; but the moment he alighted at Serny's
Hotel, he ordered a carriage, and drove direct to St. Peter's, that
he might at least gratify himself by ga/ing on its magnificent
exterior, its splendid colonnades, its external fountains: the
church was shut, and therefore he had to wait for the further
gratification of his curiosity till the next morning. The fol-
lowing day he returned early, eager beyond expression to behold
the interior of this stupendous edifice; nor was he disappointed:
he found it in truth not only magnificent but sublime ! Edward
felt penetrated with holy awe as he stood gazing on its vastness;
it seemed to him he had never before telt how holy the Almighty
is, and he raised his heart to Him in a profound act of adora-
tion, while he was lost in wonder at the splendour of such a
sanctuary, raised to the Creator in this earthly vale, by the weak
hands of .puny man. It is impossible to imagine that the mag-
nificence and richness of the materials employed, and the splen-
dour of the details of each individual part taken separately,
could have been combined together with more taste and judg-
ment than have been displayed to produce the wonderful har-
mony, beauty, and keeping which pervade the whole of this
rich and immense temple. Sei'ton approached the Confession
of St. Peter; then, raising his eyes to the stupendous dome that
overshadows it, hii exclaimed, "What a magnificent Mauso-
leum, raised to a poor fisherman of Galilee ! This still remains
increasing in grandeur and splendour, while those of the mighty
Caesars are mouldering into dust. Oh divine Religion ! tlion
alone couldst inspire and execute this more than mortal work !
Yes ! were I certain that this gorgeous tomb really incloses the
remains of the great Apostle, I too could fall down and venerate,
aye, and kiss the stones too, like those simple but fervnt pil-
grims; and am not I also a pilgrim at this holy shrine 1 Why,
then, shouU I hesitate 1 But no, it must not be ;" and he Burned
FATHEK OSWALD.
1ST.
nway Protestant prejudice damping at once the natural effusion
of a generous soul. Edward felt delighted as he gazed on this,
Tand object; wandering from beauty to beauty in the detail <
Fts integral parts, now stopping, lost in admiration ot its unri-
valled mosaics, now absorbed in wonder and amazement at the
proportion and beauty preserved amidst its prodigious extent.
Had he been a Catholic, he would have felt, too, all the deep
"tithusiasm and enraptured devotion which a Christian must
feel in such u temple, raised to the awful Being that created an.l
preserves him. Yes ; that heart must be cold and cynical indeed,
which can find aught to cavil at in the incentives to devotion
presented in St Peter's; and the Catholic full well knows, tha
besides the extrinsic beauty and value of all around him, their
real and intrinsic value consists in their being stamped with the
histr-iy of his religion from the lime of Christ Himself, and in
the means which they offer and afford for its pure and perfect
practice. Sefton left St. Peter's with a mind full of admiration,
and a determination often to return and study it in all its details.
He wrote to Emma by that day's post and gave her an account
of all he had seen adding that he should now have an opportu-
nity of more fullv observing the Catholic religion ; he expressed
more tenderness "towards her than he had yet done since their
separation, and when he had sent this letter o3, he felt his heart
a little relieved, knowing that she would receive from U both
pleasure and consolation.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Oh, Reason! who shall say what spells renew,
When least we look for it, thy broken clue !
Through what small vistas o'er ttie darkened brain,
Thy intellectual day-beams burst again.
An, : l how like forts, to which beleaguers win
Unhoped for ontrance, through some friend witiun
One clear iJ.'K, wakened in thy breast,
By Memoiy'i* magic lets in all the rest."
THE next week ^as passed by Edward in taking a rapid re-
view of the antiquities, churches, palaces, and other objects of
interest in Uorjo. He was both delighted and surprised with
w'nat li" "S'N TJ-iving letters of introduction to many ol the
noble fljraar. families' and resident English, he resolved toavai.
IS6 FATHER OSWALD.
himself ot the urbanity with which he was received to obtaii
solid information on the objects which most excited either hi;
'juriosity or interest. Finding the churches always open in th.
mornings, he generally visited them early, and spent his after-
noon amongst the antiquities. One morning, as he was going
from church to church with his guide-book in his hand, dili-
gently examining the numberless tine pictures, and marbles, and
sculptured treasures, he entered the church of St. Augustine,
and was soon struck with admiration at the beautiful fresco < i
the Prophet Isaiah by Rafaelle. While earnestly gazing at it ;
his attention was attracted by some one sobbing near him ; he
turned to the other side of the pillar, whence the sound came,
and saw a young woman surrounded by a group of little chil-
dren, apparently in the most abject poverty, kneeling before a
statue of the Madonna and Child : the poor woman was in
earnest prayer, with her arms extended towards the image.
SeTton looked at her compassionately. " She seems in great
distress," thought he to himself. " What a pity she should be
wasting her prayers before that dumb idol, instead of praying
lo God to help her." He approached nearer to her and asked
what distressed her: "Alas! Sir," said she, endeavouring to
subdue her sobs so as to answer him. " my husband is lying on
his death-bed : neither I nor my poor children tasted food all
yesterday, and we are come to ask some to-day of the Madonna,
and that she may cure my poor Carlo."
" You had better ask it of God," said Sefton.
"So I am asking it of God," answered the poor woman; " tor
our Lady can obtain all sne wishes of her Divine Son, and she
will obtain this for me, I am certain,''
Edward looked up at the Madonna. The statue is a very or-
dinary production of art; but he was struck with the enormous
quantities of votives of all kinds with which itself, and the sur
rounding walls and pillars are covered.
"What is the meaning'of all these things 1" said he in a half-
musing tone to the poor woman.
" They are votives, Sir, brought to the Madonna by those for
whom she has worked miracles and obtained favours."
"Miracles! nonsense! what superstition !"
The poor woman looked bewildered, and returned with re-
newed ardour to her prayers.
"But where do you live, my poor woman 1" said Sefton.
looking at her wan features and weeping children with sineen
sentiments of commiseration. She told him where she lived,
and he noted it down, that he might send Luigi lo see her and
her poor sick husband ; in the meantime, he put into her hatd
a coup/e of scudi
FATHKR OSWALD. 18?
It would be impossible to describe the mingled look of grati-
tude and surprise with which the poor creature gazed at him ;
she clasped her hands together with l'en r ent thanksgiving, and
exclaimed, " Did I not tell you, Sir, that the Madonna could
erraut me the favour if she would 1"
Sefton smiled at her simplicity, and felt a confused feeling of
pleasure at having relieved her and a vague sensation of won
der at her attributing it to the Madonna, which it would be dif
ficult to analyze. He hastily left the church and walked on
without minding what route he was taking ; at length he found
himself in the Piazza del Gesii, and seeing the fafade of a hand-
some church before him, he entered, and having ascertained that
it was called the Gesu, he was soon busily employed in admir-
ing Bacdci's frescos with which it is adorned, as well as the
many rich and beautiful treasures by which it is distinguished.
Selton observed that the church was very full of people ; that
there were Masses going on at most of the altars; that there
were priests in the different confessionals, surrounded by groups
of penitents, each in turn confessing their sins; and that there
were several people continually approaching to the high altar to
receive the Holy Communion ; he was struck by the silence and
order which prevailed amidst all these various acts of piety, anJ
particularly by the devout and serious demeanour of the pe'jple.
"I have some idea," said he to himself, "that this church be-
longs to the Jesuits ; I think I will go into the sacristy to ask."
On inquiry, he found his conjecture right, and was told there
that there was in the house an English Father of the name of
Oswald, if it chanced that it was he whom he was in search of.
Edward was again surprised, and having sent up his card, was
soon admitted to the Father's room, who had lately arrived in
Rome on business of his order. Father Oswald was pleased to
see an old acquaintance, and Sefton felt at the same time min-
gled sentiments of pain and pleasure; pain, because it was
principally to Father Oswald's influence that he attri-buted his
wife's having become a Catholic and pleasure, because he was
an old acquaintance whom he could not help both admiring and
esteeming. When they had conversed together a little of times
gone by, of England, and of Emma, Father Oswald offered to
show him the rest of the house, which offer Edward gladly ac-
cepted ; " For," said he, " I never was in a house of Religious
in my life before now."
' You must not fail, then, to visit some of the monasteries
and convents existing in Italy," said Father Oswald, " for you
will find in them many curio'us and interesting objects, whica
will gratify your taste ibi literature.''
188 FATHER OSWALD.
Sefton bowed. He visited with much interest the library anrt
refectory, the poor and simple apartments of the religious, and
the chapel of St. Ignatius, formed of the room in which tha'
great and holy man died ; and near to which there exists the
celebrated piece of perspective by Padre Pozzi. As he accom-
panied Father Oswald to his own room, they passed by a beau-
tiful Madonna in the corridor. Edward had already remarked
a large crucifix at the bottom of the stairs, and he could not help
asking the Father why they were placed in the passages.
" To raise the mind to Heaven, and to promote religious re-
collection," answered he.
" It seems very odd to me, Sir, I assure you, to see the grea<
use made of all these kind of tilings in Catholic countries."
" When you understand a little better the explanation and use
of many things you see in our churches, your surprise will wear
off; nay, perhaps even admiration may succeed,' 1 replied Father
Oswald.
" It will be a long time first, I believe," said Sefton.
When they were reseated in Father Oswald's room, Edward
told him the adventure at St. Augustine's, and concluded by a
long tirade against the folly and superstition of the people, who
fancy that miracles take place now-a-days ; inveighing particu-
larly against the credulity of the poor woman, in thinking the
Madonna had any thing to do with his alms.
" Perhaps the woman was a better Christian philosopher than
you imagine," said Father Oswald, smiling.
" How do you make that outl" said Sefton.
" Because the poor woman, overlooking all secondary causes,
referred the benefit she had received to the first great cause, 'to
the Giver of all good gifts.' She remembered, no doubt, what
she had often been taught, that 'not a sparrow falls on the ground
without the Father,'* and so she wisely concluded that God had
heard her prayer, or rather the prayer of the Blessed Virgin for
her, and had sent her relief through your hands."
. '-There were both wisdom and piety in that sentiment," re-
plied Sefton, " I must allow it. if I could persuade myself she
was capable of such a reflection."
" I think her very actions ought to convince you of it. The
simple lessons of the Gospel to which I have alluded are not
beyond the capacity of the most simple, understanding."
"True," said Sefton, "the lessons of the Gospel are well
adapted to satisfy a pious and simple soul ; still you must allow
that the providence of God over man is a very dark and my>
terious problem to the philosopher."
FATHER OSWALD. * 1SJ
"Ali Christian philosophers," replied Father Oswald, "ought
to know that there is a double order of providence; one the
order of grace, the other the order of nature ; one regulating
the distribution of graces to the souls of men by which they are
disposed, anil prepared, and helped forward, if they choose to
correspond by their own free will, to a supernatural state of
glory; the other regulating the disposition of secondary causes,
by which God brings about all the changes in the material world,
which, for his own purposes, He lias determined from the begin-
ning, or, to speak more accurately, which He iletei mines from
eternity ; for with God there is no past or future, all is one im-
movable present. Now tie providence of God, in the order of
grace, inspired into your scul the desire to give an alms co that
poor woman."
" But there was no miracle in that," interrupted Sefton.
"No, it was no miracle, though a direct interference of the
Divinity with the soul of man; it was no miracle, because it
was in the ordinary course of providence, in the supernatural
order of grace."
"But I object," said Sefton, "to the belief that the Divinity
exercises any direct interference with the soul of man ; it seems
to me men have little or no other motive of action than visible
objects."
"Unfortunately, most men have not." replied Father Oswald,
" yet I know too much of your character not to be certain that
Ihis is not your philosophy, a principle worthy only of those
brought up in the school of Epicurus. Indeed, to doub f of the
interference of God in the concerns of man, is to doubt the ne-
cessity and efficacy of prayer. In vain would Christ and His
Apostles have exhorted us to earnest and persevering prayer,
with faith and confidence that our prayer would be heard, if all
things were to happen in an unchangeable order, whether we
prayed or not."
" There is deep reason in that," said Sefton musing.
" The person who can adopt the principle that we act o?ily on
sensible motives," continued the Father, " must never have looked
into himself never have consulted the motives of his own heart.
Did such a one never make a pious reflection never conceive
a holy desire never experience a salutary consolation never
form a pious resolution to practice virtue and avoid vice, un-
less he had been excited thereunto by some sensible object V
" I cannot say that of myself," replied Sefton, "for I have very
often made good resolutions, and felt interior consolations too,
without the influence of sensible objects."
" Of that I am fully aware," answered Father Oswald, " but
190 ^ FATHER OSWALD.
others there are, who, perhaps though rarely, have not; and
more are they to be pitied : but then did they never feel a sud-
den alarm an inward trouble a secret remorse lor deeds done
in the gratification of sense 7 if they have, what is all this but
the voice of God speaking to the heart a direct interference of
the Divinity with the soul of man 1''
" It seems like it, certainly," said Edward.
" No concatenation of secondary causes, no material, sensible
object enters here," pursued Father Oswald; '" To-day, if you
shall hear his voice, harden not your hearts.' It is not said, to-
day if you hear the thunder roll, or the earth groan beneath your
feet, 'harden noty our hearts:' no, but when you hear His small,
still, powerful, but gentle voice whispering in your heart, then
you are warned to listen to, and receive it; still there is no
miracle in that, because, as I observed before, it is in the ordi-
nary course of providence, in the supernatural order of grace.
When St. Paul was struck down from his horse, when the thiel
was converted on the cross, when Magdalen threw herself at
the feet of Jesus, when Augustine heard ' Tolle, lege,' and a
hundred other instances of special and extraordinary interference,
we readily admit a miracle in the supernatural order of grace.
It is equally true that God often ordains the course of nature in
such a special order, as to co-operate with His providence in the
order of grace. He disposes secondary causes, so as to pro-
duce plague, famine, earthquakes, and other phenomena ; or it
may be, general and individual misfortunes to awaken men
from the lethargy of sin, and make them more attentive to His
call ; but all these sensible motives will never produce of them-
selves one salutary act; grace alone can do that ; all these mis-
fortunes may be brought about by a concatenation of secondary
causes, or they may be produced by a direct miracle ; it is some-
times very difficult to determine by which. But the effect is the
same, for all proceed from the same directing hand."
"But miracles have ceased," said Sefton ; "and it is my
opinion, that God in the beginning fixed and determined a con-
catenation of secondary causes, according to which every event
is foreseen and preordained to happen according to a preordain-
ed immutable law."
" Taken in a limited and general sense, what you say is true,"
said Father Oswald; "and it is wonderful how God, in all the
possible orders of succession, selected that order which does
not in the least control the free will of man. Bnt you are egre-
giously wrong in supposing that the law of physical causes
cannot be changed. It seems to me little less than blasphemy
to pretend to subject God to the physical laws of matter. What!
FATHER OSWALD. 191
could not, OT did not God, when He established those laws, re-
serve to Himself the right to interfere in them, when and where
He foresaw that it would be for his own glory, or even for the
good of his creatures V
" It is easier, I think, Sir, to assert that than to prove it," said
Seftcn.
" There is no difficulty in proving it," replied Father Oswald
mildly. " Did not God suspend the laws of nature when the
waters of the Red Sea stood as walls on each side of the Israel-
ites; when the Jordan opened to them a passage ; ; when the
sun and moon stood still at the voice of Joshua ; when the head
of the axe rose to the surface of the water ; and when Christ
and Peter walked upon the sea 1 Did not God reverse the laws
of nature when the shadow of the dial went back when Elias
ascended in the fiery chariot ; when the dead man returned to
life at the touch of the Prophet's bones ; and when Christ and
his Apostles recalled the dead to life, and gave light to the blind"?
Did He not change the law of nature when the substance of the
rod of Moses was changed into a serpent ; when the Prophet
multiplied the widow's oil ; and when Christ changed water
into wine, and multiplied the bread and fishes in the desert 1 All
these are pregnant instances of the divine interference in the
laws of nature, and can never be explained by any possible
concatenation of second causes; therefore my conclusion is,
that God did reserve to Himself the right of interfering when,
and where, and how He pleased."
"Well," said Sefton, " I grant that this interference did exist
in the theocracy of the Jews, and also in the miracles wrought
to prove the mission of Jesus Christ."
" Then," said Father Oswald, " if you admit miracles at all,
the question is now reduced to very narrow limits ; namely,
have they ceased '!"
" I say they have." replied Sefton ; " and so I imagine do
most rational people."
" Remember." said Father Oswald, "that God distinguished
his chosen people by an uninterrupted series of miracles from
the beginning unto the very end of the synagogue. In our Sa-
viour's time we read, that at stated periods the angel descended
and moved the waters of the Probatic pond ;* now, can we for
a moment imagine, that Christ has left the Church, his beloved
spouse, without this precious mark of his predilection 1 Has he
not expressly promised it 1 ' Amen, amen, I say unto you, He
that believeth in me, the works that I do, he also shall do, and
greater than these shall he do.' "t
* John v. 4 T John xiv. 13
192 FATHER OSWALD.
' Your reasoning, Sir," said Sefton, " is very plausible and
specious, but of no avail against the notorious fact, that since
the days of the Apostles no well-authenticated miracle has ever
laken place."
" Really," replied Father Oswald, "it requires an extraordi-
nary degree of scepticism to call in doubt the words of eccle-
siastical history which bear the most irrefragable evidence to an
uninterrupted succession of miracles in every age : weigh well
the promises of Christ ; he prefixes his most solemn assevera-
tion, no ways limited to time, place, or person, that miracles
shall be wrought in his Church alone ; faith only is requisite.
' Amen, I say unto you, if you have faith as a grain of mustard
seed, you shall say to this mountain, remove from hence hither,
and it shall remove, and nothing shall be impossible to you."*
Now, in his Church, true faith shall always be tbund ; shall we
then be told that miracles have ceased 1 Well, then, I say the
promises of Christ have failed, and you give a fair pretext for
iniidels to reject the Bible altogether."
Sefton blushed ; " But," persisted he, " as we see no miracles
in these enlightened ages, therefore they must have ceased."
" There are none so blind as those who will not see," replied
Father Oswald ; " real miracles have never ceased in the Church
of Christ, and it is one of the most convincing proofs of the
truth of the Catholic religion."
" No doubt it would be so if they did exist," replied Sefton
very seriously, " but there is the point."
At this moment some one knocked at the door. Father Os-
wald called out, " Come in," and a tall young man, -about thirty,
in a clerical dress, with a fine Roman lace, and mild and sensi-
ble countenance, entered ; he said a few words to Father Os-
wald, who shortly after introduced him to Sefton, as Monsig-
nore Guidi. After the usual complimen.ts of politeness, Edward
rose, and took his leave, fearful of intruding by a longer visit,
as he perceived they had business together.
* Matt. xvii. HJ.
FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XXV.
* As when on the ivory tablet we view
The features of father or friend,
The bosom heaves high, and, like evening dew,
Soft tears on the tablet descend.
" Even so when thy Cross, O Saviour ! I see.
And thy head thus drooping with pain,
The sijih of my heart shall whisper to Thee,
Thou shall not thus love me in vain !
" Oft shall my tears, as in silence they steal
>'n thy wounds thus bleeding for me,
The sisjh the resolve, at rny heart reveal
To cling, aye, for ever to Thee '
" We call Thee Father, but thou art far more,
Far dearer than father or friend ;
oil ! teach th^n ' thy child' to love and adore
Thee, Father, Redeemer, arid End." CATHOLIC HYMN.
THE following day, Monsignore Guidi called upon Sefton, and
on a further acquaintance they were mutually pleased with
each other. Monsignore Guidi was an ecclesiastic equally dis-
tinguished by his rank and talents ; he united to great sensibili-
ty of heart and mildness of manner, a cultivated understanding,
and a profound erudition. He very kindly offered his services
to Sefton in his literary, antiquarian, or ecclesiastical researches.
The offer was gratefully accepted, and they examined together
most of the antiquities and objects of interest in Rome. One
morning, as Sefton was seated at breakfast, Monsignore Guidi
was announced: " I have come," said he, "to ask if you have
yet seen the Pope V
" No," replied Sefton, " I have not. I suppose it is considered
necessary, or I would as soon be excused."
" You perfectly astonish me !"
"How so V inquired Sefton; "are you not aware, that all
good Protestants are taught to believe that the Pope is the mos>
deplorable of self-deceivers, a weak instrument of the Devil,
and the most profane and audacious charlatan V
The Prelate held up his hands in amazement.
"Don't be alarmed, my dear Guidi," said Sefton, "but the
truth of it is, that to all Bible Christians, the Church of Rome
appears a system of the grossest worldliness, supported by splen-
dour, and governed by earthly means."
" I know not what you exactly mean by Bible Christians,"
said Monsignore Guidi; "but if that is the view they take of
the Catholic religion, I am sure should they look at the moon
17*
194 FATHER OSWALD.
through a pair of green spectacles, they would swear it was
made of green cheese. I would not be so unpo!i;e as to turn
the tables, (though perhaps it might not be very ditiicuh.) upon
the splendour, luxury, and iniquity of most of the royal heads of
the Church of England and Kirk of Scotland ; but I imagine from
what you have just said, you do not wish to see his Holiness."
Sefton looked a little foolish. " I did not exactly say that,"
replied Sefion, " travellers are accustomed to see many wonder-
ful things."
" Well, then," said Monsignore Guidi, "there will be this af-
ternoon the first vespers of ' All Saints,' in the chapel of the
Pope's palace. This chape., which is called the Sixtine, is
adorned by Michael Angelo's finest paintings. His Holiness
will himself assist at the vespers, and thus you will have an op-
poi (unity of seeing him."
" I am much obliged to yon, I am sure," said Sefton, :[ and
shall be most happy to accompany you ; but do tell me what
you mean by 'All Saints,' for to me" the worship of the Saints
and their intercession seems riot only deplorable ignorance but
downright idolatry."
" Methinks Catholics have great reason to be obliged to Pro-
testants for the good opinion they have of their piety and judg-
ment," said Monsignore Guidi a little sarcastically. " I can as-
sure you we are neither so stupid, nor so ignorant, as to idolize
the Saints : we pay them not the worship which is due to God
alone ; we honour then: only as the special friends cf their
Creator, who are already admitted to the Heaven which we hope
one day to attain; in the meanwhile, we believe with a firm
faith that they are riot now less charitable than they were when
living in this world, that they interest themselves for us and pray
to God for us. For otherwise, we cannot imagine that the rich
man buried in Hell should evince solicitude for the salvation of
his brethren,* or the Saints in Heaven should evince anxiety
for the salvation of their lellow-combatants, still on earth. It
is on the day called ' All Saints' that we honour them alto-
gether, and recommend ourselves and all the world to their
prayers."
' But do you really imagine," said Sefton, " that you have any
rational ground for believing that such honour p::id to created
beings is pleasing to God? Can you show any Scriptural au-
thority for such a practice 1"
" Nothing can be more rational or more Scriptural." replied
Monsignore Guidi, " than that we should pray for one another
here on earth. Does not St. Paul in all his epistles desire the
* Luke xvi. 27.
FATHER OSWALD 195
prayers of the faithful for himself! Have you never reflected on
these his words, ' I desire therefore first of all that supplications,
prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings be made for all men,
for this is good and acceptable in the sight of God our Saviour T*
and does not St. James also say, ' Pray one for another, that you
may be saved, for the continual prayer of a just man availelh.
much' T't
"Wei!, but we suppose the Apostles to have been men really
inspired and guided by God," said Sefton.
"Certainly they were," replied Guidi, " and yet you see they
ask for the prayers of the faithful; now surely the prayers and
intercession of His blessed Saints in Heaven are not less good
and acceptable in His divine presence, and surely they must
avail more than the prayers of souls on earth, not yet made
perfect."
" Sefton remained silent for some time, as one in deep reflec-
tion ; at length he said, " Indeed, Monsignore, your reasoning
appears very specious ; I know not exactly how to answer it :
for if the prayers of poor sinful mortals, when offered up for
other men, ' are good and acceptable to God,' we cannot doubt
that ' the spirits of the just made peri'ect may intercede for us
with still greater efficacy ; yet it is strange we have no direct
evidence of it in Holy Scripture."
" I am glad," replied Monsignore Guidi, "that you acknow-
ledge the practice of invoking the intercession of the Saints to
be at least rational. Still you seek for Scriptural evidence, and
we are not without that ; yet you must allow me to protest
against your mistaken principle, that every thing practically
|3ious and holy is to be found in the Scriptures. If the thing in
question be rational and pious in itself, it behoveth you to show
that it is forbidden by Scripture before you condemn it in your
neighbour."
" Well, well," answered Sefton, " you may perhaps be right
in that also, but let me hear your Scriptural evidence for the
intercession of Saints."
" We read in the book of Maccabees, that Onias, who had
been the high priest, and had been martyred, appeared to Judas
Maccabaeus, and ' holding up his hands, prayed for all the peo-
ple of the Jews :' after this, there appeared alsc another man,
admirable for age and glory, and environed with great beauty
and majesty. Then Onias answering, said, 'This is a lover of
las brethren and of the people, and tor all the holy city, Jere-
miah the Prophet of God.' "J
" That passage, no doubt, would be decisive of the question,"
* 1 Tim. u. 1 t Jas. v. it ; 2 Mac. xv. 11 H
196 FATHER U8WAI.I)
answered Seftort, " if it were really canonical Scripture: DU
you know, Mcnsignore, that we consider the Maccabees a
apocryphal."
" A very ready way of getting over a difficulty ! Luther de-
nied the authenticity of the epistle of St. James, and pro-
nounced it unworthy of an apostle, because, forsooth, it repro-
bates his system of salvation, by faith alon?, without good
works."
"But you are aware," continued Sefton, "that the Jews do
not admit the authenticity of these books."
'' We look not to the Jews for the authenticity of our Scrip-
lures," said Monsignore G-uidi, " otherwise we must reject the
whole New Testament : we look to the authority of the Church
to decide what is, and what is not, the revealed Word of God ;
and from the earliest ages, the Church has regarded the books
of Maccabees as divinely inspired; St. Augustine teaches us
this fact, but the ancient Jews did not reject these books."
" How soT' said Sefton with some surprise.
"Perhaps," replied the Prelate, " you are not aware that the
canon of the Jewish Scriptures was fixed by Esdras, and that
the books of Maccabees wen: written three hundred years later,
and therefore could not be inserted in his canon. The Jews
waited for another Esdras, or prophet, to pronounce on the au-
thenticity of those books. The Christian Church, in her gene-
ral councils, has pronounced the sentence as she has upon the
books of the New Testament; if you reject that authority,
I know not upon what ground you can admit the New Testa-
ment."
" I will not enter at present into that question," replied Sef-
ton, "for I fear I should be involved in difficulties inextricable.
But you must allow, Sir, thar the legends of many of your Saints
are silly, disgusting, and blasphemous."
"You use strong language. Sir, and 1 can only attribute it to
the ignorance of Catholic doctrines and writings in which Pro-
lestants are educated. But that which appears silly before the
wise of this world, may be wisdom before God. I have read
the histories oi many of our Saints, but I never found anything
blasphemous in them. That their poverty, humility, fastings,
and mortifications, may be disgusting to sensual men, I will not
deny ; but to the truly pious, and on the lovers of the Cross,
they produce a very different effect.
" What !" exclaimed Sefton, " would you have me believe
all the absuri stories related of your saints T'
" By no means ; I only wish you to examine, without preju-
dice the evidence on which these stories are grounded : if thai
FATHER OSWALD. 197
evidence does not satisfy your judgment, you are then at lull
liberty to reject them; we pretend to no higher authority lor
(hem. than what is due to well-authenticated historical facts."
" I thought," said Sefton, " that all Catholics were bound to
believe them, under pain of excommunication for heresy."
" Another instance," observed Monsignore Guidi, " of the
gross misconceptions which most Protestants entertain of the
Catholic faiih. The acts of the saints, like all other historical
facts, rest entirely on human testimony, and, consequently, can
never become the objects of divine faith, for they claim no fur-
ther credit than is warranted by the weight of the evidence in
their favour. 1 '
' : Are you then allowed to examine them critically 1" asked
Sefton.
" No doubt we are ; and I need only refer you to the great
work of the Bollandists, where you will find a most laborious
collection of monuments and documents regarding the lives of
all the saints, accompanied with the most acute criticism and
unbiassed judgment in determining the certain from the dubious;
truth from falsehood."
i: I had no notion of that," said Sefton ; "still I must say it
would be no easy task to remove my doubts."
" It is the genuine spirit of Protestants to doubt of every thing
but the visions of their own brains," said the Prelate, sighing.
" You cannot think how such assertions surprise Catholics; for,
from my poor experience, I find there is no historical fact, how-
ever well authenticated, if it tends to throw a lustre on the
Catholic religion, which they will not boldly deny or egregious-
ly misrepresent, as there is no story, true or false, reflecting on
the character of the Catholic Priest, that they do not credulously
devour."
"You are very severe, Monsignore," said Sefton, smiling;
"but there is one point of your doctrine of which I am not yet
convinced. Though I may grant that the saints in heaven feel
an interest in our welfare, and may pray for us ; yet I dc not
see how we can invoke them, without attributing to them a sort
of ubiquity, which no doubt is blasphemous."
" There is surely no more blasphemy in believing .hat ' the
spirits of the just made perfect in the company of many thou-
sands of angels'* can communicate with their votaries on earth,
than that ' there shall be joy be.'ore the angels of God, upon one
sinner doing penance. 't Catholics are neither taught, nor be-
lieve, that any saint or angel is endowed with the divine attri-
bute of ubiquity ; but they know, though Bible readers may not
* Heb. xii W. t I.uke xv. 10.
198 fATHER OSWALD.
that the rich man in Hell could hold a conversation with Ahra
ham, when he was ./? off, and Lazarus in his bosom, although
' there was fixed between them great chaos.'* Therefore, there
is no need that the saints should move from the place of their
repose, in order to know the prayers of their votaries on earth
Oh ! if Protestants knew the heartfelt consolation of having sc
many heavenly friends and intercessors, they would rather envy
than revile and despise us."
" Perhaps," said Sefton, "you will next justify your adoration
of the statues of saints; that at least is rank idolatry."
" I will not justify such a charge," exclaimed Monsignore
Guidi earnestly, " but I will deny it: the essential part of idol-
atrous worship, the abomination so much detested and repro-
bated in Holy Scripture, consisted in offering sacrifices to idols,
or, as the Apostle expresses it, to devils. Now, surely, you will
not accuse Catholics of such infatuation 1 Has the Gospel ot
Christ been preached to them for eighteen hundred years to no
better effect"? The person who can seriously think idolatry pos-
sible amongst Christians, must have a mean idea of the effi-
cacy of the Gospel."
" From what I have heard, and from what I have myself
seen," replied Sefton, " I certainly cannot but think that, at all
events, the common people are guilty of idolatry; perhaps not
you, Monsignore, nor really well-instructed Catholics either ;
but, depend upon it, it is very prevalent amongst the lower
classes."
" My dear Mr. Sefton. I must again positively contradict you,"
said the Prelate. "It is difficult for me to imagine how you
can have been so completely misinformed upon this subject ; but I
do assure you that the greatest veneration, adoration, or worship,
that any Catholic ever paid to the image of a saint, never came
up to the veneration and awe which the Israelites., by the com-
mand of God, paid to the Ark of the Covenant, the workman-
ship of man's hand. I could show you a hundred texts to prove
this ; but you may recollect with what precaution, and sacrifices,
and ceremonies, the High Priest was to approach it once a year,
and ' he coriPmanded him, saying, that he enter not at all into
the sanctuary which is within the veil before the propitiatory
with which the Ark is covered, lest he aie ; for I will appear as
a cloud over the oracle unless he first do these things.'t Re-
member, too, what reverence Josue taught the people to pay to
the Ark : ' And let there be between you and the Ark the space
of two thousand cubits, that you may see it afar ofT .... and
lake care you come not near the Ark. Iv t
* Luke xvi. 26 t Lev. xvi. 2. f Jo*, iii. 4
FATHER OSWALD. 199
" There is a shadow of reason in what you say, Sir," replied
Sefton ; " but that was in the Old Law."
" The Old Law was not destroyed, but fulfilled," said the
Prelate; " and what was commanded then, cannot be unlawful
now; what was pious then, cannot be impious now: however,
there is something approaching nearer to worship or adoration
of the likeness of something in Heaven or on earth in this ex-
ample: ' And Josue rent his garments, and fell flat on thegrouni
before the Ark of the Lord until the evening, both he and ai\
the ancients of- Israel, and they put dust upon their heads.'*
Again, the chastisements of the Philistines, and the fate of Oza
lor irreverence shown to the Ark of the Lord, and the pomp and
jubilee with which David carried it in procession, are striking
instances of respect shown even to inanimate created objects.
While the princes and anointed of the people gave this example
of Veneration and respect to a wooden box, and to the graven
and golden cherubim on its lid, with what awe and terror must
the vulgar have been stricken, particularly when they saw that
worship sanctioned by God with the most evident miracles!"
" But," said Sefton earnestly, " I have always understood that
the Catholic Church suppresses one of the commandments
altogether, and divides another into two, to blind the people, and
support image-worship."
' How you must have been misinformed," said Monsignore
Guidi ; " The Catholic Church suppresses nothing of the Ten
Commandments: she divides them lor in the Bible there is
no division of first, second, third, and so forth as the Fathers
in the earliest ages divided them.'t Every thing that regards
the worship of God, and the prohibition of idolatry, are com-
prehended in one and the first commandment, because they
regard one and the same object. It would be an easy matter
for a finical Bible reader 10 make three commandments out ol
the first. 1st. Thou shalt not have strange gods before me.
2nd. Thou shalt not make lo thyself a graven thing. 3rd. Thou
shalt not adore them. Now, if it be forbidden la make ' the
likeness of any thing that is in Heaven above, or the Earth be-
neath,' how many precious monuments of the fine ails must
be destroyed ! how many portly figures and darling miniatures
must be cast into the Hames !"
11 1 am sure," persisted Sefton, " I always had the impression,
that the use of paintings, sculpture, and images in churches,
was contrary to Scripture, and that it was positively forbidden
there."
* Jos. vii. 6.
t See LUigaid's Catccnetical Instructions, p. 59, ct ir.Jra
200 FATHER OSWALD.
"Yet it was by the command of God that two images of che.
rubim were made and placed on the Ark,"* said the Prelate;
" and did not the Israelites venerate the brazen serpent as a
type, or figure of Christ T't Catholics venerate the images of
Christ, ol the Blessed Virgin, and of the saints, on account of
'.heir prototypes. None of them are so stupid as to believe
Uiat any divinity, any power or virtue, resides in any of these
image?/'
" I wish I could persuade myself of that," said Sefion: " lor
(hough, as I observed before, the learned and educated may
maKc that distinction, yet I feel sure the poor ignorant Catholics
are incapable of it; and I cannot but fear they really adore the
images as much as the Pagans did their idols."
'Pardon me," replied Monsignore Guidi ; "the poor Cath-
olics are better instructed in their Catechism than you imagine,
and certainly know much more of the nature and unity of God,
than the gross-minded Israelites, who adored the golden calve* k
as the gods which had brought them out of Egypt. You hav.
no doubt, traversed the splendid galleries of the Vatican, filled
with exquisite and countless statues'?"
" To be sure : what of that 7"
" You may have observed the poor ignorant Catholics wrap*
in the contemplation of those precious monuments of art]"
" Yes: what then V
" Did you ever see any of them fall down and adore them V
" No, certainly ; but remove them into your churches, and
they would soon be crowded with votaries."
" Our churches are adorned with innumerable statues, as in
the monuments of the Popes, and other gr-atmen ; didyoueve
see votaries bending before them'!"
" I certainly never did," replied Sefton doggedly.
" Then the poor ignorant Catholic knows how to distinguish
between an image and its prototype. But, my dear Sir, reason
a little more consistently. I am told that, at the Reformation,
when you pulled down the images of the crucified Redeemer
and his holy Mother, you erected in their stead the royal arms,
Ihe lion and the unicorn ; nay, that St. Paul's and Westminster
Abbey are crowded at this day with statues of all the Heathen
divinities: now, is not all this a greater violation of the lirst
commandment, than the Catholic images ever were?"
"But we do not make them the objects of any religious vene-
ation or worship," said Sel'lon somewhat haughtily.
" 1 do not charge you:'' replied the Prelate, " with such gross
idolatry ; still, 1 think a fitter place might be found for them
* rixod. xxv t Numb. xxi.
FATHER OSWALD. 201
.ban the house 01" the living God. You will not find such un-
seemly objects in a Catholic temple."
" They are only used as allegorical representations of the
prowess, renown and virtues of departed worthies."
"It may be so; but we also employ allegorical represen-
tations, and yet contrive to keep out of our churches all Pagan
deities."
" Still," urged Sefton, "you pay adoration to the statues oi
vour saints, if you do not to your allegorical statues."
" There is a great difference betwixt the two," answered
Monsignore Guidi. " Suppose I were to cast upon the ground
the image of the crucified Redeemer and bid you trample on it,
would you do it V
' No, certainly."
"Why not 7 It is nothing but an image. '
" Because I have too much respect lor my Redeemer, to oiler
Him an insult even in his image."
" Your sentiment is Catholic ; we only carry our respect a
little further: far from trampling on it, we raise it with vene-
ration, press it to our hearts, kiss it with our lips, and contem-
plating in the image what the prototype suffered for us, bathe it
with our tears."
Sefion was silent.
" It is a beautiful day," said Monsignore Guidi ; " do you lee
inclined to drive as far as the tomb of Cecelia Metalla, on the
Via Appia, and study the antiquities in that quarter 1"
" I should like nothing better," said Sefton, and off they set
Edward was delighted with all he saw; the balmy softness of
the air, the calm repose of the Campagnia, and the view:; ot
Tivoli and Frascati, on their undulating and olive-covered hills,
heightened the sense of pleasure with \vhich they wandered
over Roma Vecchia, and visited the sepulchres of die ancient
Romans and heroes of antiquity.
16
FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XXVI.
That no lambkin might wander in crroi benighted,
But homeward the true path may hold,
The Redeemer ordained that in one faith united,
One Shepherd should govern the fold. FRAGMENT.
AT the appointed hour, the two friends found themselves as
rending tire magnificent staircase of the Vatican to attend the
vespers. Edward could not help feeling a deep interest in the
scene around him the venerable assemblage of Cardinals the
throng of religious and secular Clergy the unrivalled music
the benign and dignified presence of the Sovereign Pontiff.
and the crowds of strangers from all parts of the world, assem-
bled to gaze and to admire, struck him almost with reverential
awe. As the vespers went on, he felt a desire to know what
kind of a devotion it might be to which he was listening, and
asked Monsignore Guidi, in a whisper, what was meant by
vespers. The Prelate gave him a book, from which he found
that vespers consist of five psalms, taken from the Book ot
Psalms, diiFeringaccordingtothedirTerent festivals ; these psalms
are followed by a little chapter and a hymn, after which is
chanted to music, the Magnificat, or Song of the Blessed Virgin
Mary,* the whole terminating with some short commemorations
and prayers. Edward was surprised to find by this book, that
the vespers were translated into the vernacular, so that those not
understanding Latin could nevertheless follow, and perfectly
enter into the spirit of the service. He left the chapel, much,
impressed with what he had heard and seen, excepting that he
\vas both mortified and ashamed by the misconduct of many of
nis own countrymen, who seemed to consider themselves in a
theatre rather than in the house of God. He attempted an awk-
ward apology to Monsignore Guidi, by observing that they must
have been some ill-bred churls, who had the bad taste to scofFat
what they did not understand, or who wanted the commcn sense
to stay away, if they could not assist with decency and respect
in the presence at least of a temporal sovereign.
" It has been often observed," said Monsignore Guidi some-
what sarcastically, " that you English show more respect to the
mosques of Constantinople or to the temple of Juggernaut, than
to the Christian temples of Rome."
Sefton smarted a little at this reflection, but. without making
any observation asked Monsignore Guidi to call and take him
* Luke i. 46.
FATHKK OSWALD 2fl.'J
the following morning to the; High Mass, \vnicn was 10 be cele-
brated in the same chapel. At the appointed time they arrived
a' the Sistine Chapel, where, bel'ore the service commenced, they
had leisure to admire the beauty uf Michael Angelo's immortal
paintings. If Sei'ton had been struck with the soothing piety of
the vespers the evening before, he was still more impressed by
1 he solemnity of the High Mass, which he now witnessed. It
was with a kind of scruple that he expressed a wish to attend it,
for he had.ang believed that the Mass was the very quintessence
of Catholic idolatry, and it was only in consequence of a clear
explanation from Monsignore Guidi of the Catholic faith on
the real presence of Jesus Christ Himself, God and Man, in the
Sacrament, that this difficulty was surmounted. " If such be
the belie!' of Catholics," he thought within himself, " the adora-
tion which they pay to the host, cannot be idolatrous. They may
be mistaken ; still they adore not a bit of bread. Their adora-
tion is given to Jesus Christ. God and Man who they feel persuad-
ed, is there really present under the form and appearance of bread.
But then, how can our clergy swear that such a practice is idola-
trous and blasphemous 7 I cannot comprehend it; there must be
something rotten in all this." He listened very attentively to
the Mass as it proceeded ; he was touched with the plaintive
notes of the ' Kyrie eleison," and the rapturous* burst of praise
and adoration in the ' Gloria in excelsis Deo !' When this was
followed by the 'Epistle.' 'Gradual,' and 'Gospel,' taken word
for word from the Bible itself, including Old and New Testa-
ments, he could not conceal his surprise, and whispered to his
friend, "I had not the mast distant idea of this! Little did 1
think to hear the eight beatitudes recited in the very middle o!' a
Popish Mass;" and then he thought in his own mir.d tha> per-
haps Emma might not be quite so wrong as be had imagined.
Hi attention was now called to the beautiful music of the
' Nieene Creed.' He fbimd the words of it exactly the same as
those repeated every Sunday in the Protestant church, and he
wondered he had never before remarked that he had all his life
been repeating 'his belief in the ' One, Holy, Catholic, and
Apostolic Church;' ' El Unam, Smct.am. Cnlhollcam, et Apos-
lolicam Ecclrsinm .-" surely, thought he, there must have been
sonic strange inconsistency or mistake amongst the first re <>r-
mers, to let so glaring a profession of Catholicity remain in the
Protestant ritual ; a id he determined within himself to remon-
strate with the Bishop of S on that subject, at the earliest
opportunity. After the ' Credo' follows the solemn offering of the
bread and wine; the incense of the sacrifice; the ' Lava bo,'
and other prayers, succeeded by the glorious burst of adoration
204 FATHER OSWALD.
chanted in the ' Preface.' The officiating priest then proceeded
in secret with the solemn canon of the Mass, during which he
commemorated the Church militant and the Church triumphant,
preparatory to the awful consecration of the bread and wine ;
by which these elements are transubstantiated into the body
and blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. Immediately after the con-
secraiion the priest raises the host and the chalice for the adora-
tion of the people: and all kneel, and adore in profound silence
their Lord and God really present amongst them. Sefton did not
kneel ; lie stood quite upright, though he felt in his heart a pang
of regret that he could not join in the impressive and touching
devotion of all around him. He could not, because he did not
yet believe in the real presence of his .Saviour ; still he remained
convinced that those who did believe in that mystery, however
they migh> mistake, could not be condemned for idolatry. He
even felt he wished he could believe, for how sublime would
then be the worship of the Mass ! how worthy of the Divinity !
how far superior to any worship offered by Pagans, Jews, or
Protestants! The Mass proceeded in silence, and by referring
to the Missal he had in his hand, he found that after the cele*
brant had offered this awful sacrifice to the Divinity, he prayed
for the dead, and again commemorated the saints in Heaven.
He then chantet] the ' Lord's Prayer' aloud, succeeded by the
'Agnus Dei,' and ( Domine, non sum dignus,' previous to con-
summating the sacrifice, by receiving in communion the body
and blood of his Saviour, which he had a little before conse-
crated; the communion being followed by prayers of thanks-
giving and the blessing, the Mass terminated with the begin-
ning of the Gospel of St. John. The Sovereign Pontiff retired ;
when the assistants and tongregation dispersed, descending in
crowds the splendid stairs of the Vatican. Sefton was silent for
some time ; at length Monsignore Guidi asked him if he had
been pleased with what he had witnessed.
"I have been extremely surprised," answered Sefton; "1
find that the Mass is so very different from what I had thought it.
Are all Masses the same as thisl"
"Yes; excepting that the prayers, lessons, and gospels art
different, according to the different festivals."
"To those who believe in the real presence of Jesus Christ,
it must be a most awful and most consoling act of worship," ob-
served Sefton.
" Doubtless it is so," replied the Prelate.
"Still," said Sefton, " I have always believed that the Mass
is at best but a human institution, unknown in the first ages of
the Church."
FATHER OSWALD. 005
|: The first Mass," said Monsignore Guidi, " was celebrated
by our Lord Jesus Christ himself when He instituted the Enrh.i-
riit, and offered Himself a sacrifice for the sins of mankind .
does He not say, 'This is My body which is given for you"?
which words clearly indicate a present offeiing of his bods', a
present shedding of his blood ; ' This is My blood which is shed
for you' ? and in obedience to his command, ' Do ye this in re-
membrance of Me,' the Apostles offered the holy sacrifice in
every region of the earth to which they were sent ; and from
the rising to the setting sun the clean 'oblation has been ever
offered, as the Prophet Malachy had foretold. Nay, the altar-
stone upon which St. Peter celebrated still exists in the church
of St. Prudentiana here in Rome; and from the time of Si.
Peter down to the present Pope, Mass has always been celebra-
ted in the Catholic Church, and ever will continue to be so to
the end of the world."
" But, my dear Monsignore. yon must be aware that the Pro-
testants deny that. St. Peter was ever Bishop of Rome, or thai
the Saviour instituted any primacy of jurisdiction in him."
" That is living from one point to another," said Monsignore
Guidi, '-as I find Protestants continually do ; but a bold denial
is not sufficient to bring conviction. That St. Peter was the
Irst Bishop of Rome and ended his days there, are historical
facts, better authenticated than that Julius Caesar was slain in
the senate-house. That Christ conferred on St. Peter a primacy
of jurisdiction over the other Apostles and consequently over
the whole Church, is as clear in the Scripture as words can
make them."
" How so 1"
" Because to St. Peter alone our Blessed Saviour said, ' Than
art Peter, (a rock), and upon this rock I will build my Church.'*
To St. Peter alone our Blessed Saviour said, ' I will give lot Ace
the keys of the Kingdom of Heaven ;' to Peter alone our Bless-
ed Saviour said, ' I have prayed for Ihcc, that thy faith fail not,
and thou being once converted, confirm thy brethren ;' ; t to Pe-
ter alone he committed the care of his whole flock, ' Feed my
lambs,, feed my sheep. 'j Now this primacy of jurisdiction
which was given to St. Peter, we acknowledge in the succe.s
N.TS of St. Peter, the Bishops of Rome, down to the present day
In every age of the Church, the successor of St. Peter in the
See of Rome has been ever acknowledged as the supreme head
of the Church of Christ. In the nature of things, a centre of
unity a centre of faith and charity, is absolutely necessary.
This very necessity is itself a sufficient reason to believe thai
* Matt.xvi 18. + Luke xxii 32. i Jolmxxi. 15.
18*
SJ06 FATHER OSWAU).
Christ has provided his Church with such centre of union.
Did he not pray lor this union of his followers 1 ' Holy Father,
keep them in Thy name whom Thou hast given Me, that they
may be one, as We also are.'* We search in vain lor such a
centre out of the See of Rome ; no other See ever pretended tc
this prerogative, and this prerogative has been conceded lo the
Chair of Peter by every other See of the Christian world."
" We nowhere read," said Sefton, " that Peter ever exercised
this primacy."
" Although there were no record that he ever exercised it,
that would be no proof that he never did exercise it. Having
shown that this high commission was given by Christ unto Pe-
ter, it is natural to suppose that he would be called upon occa-
sionally to exert it. In fact, there is in Scripture sufficient evi-
dence that he did so."
" Pray, Sir, on what occasion?''
" First, immediately after the Ascension, when the Apostles
and Disciples were assembled together, Peter proposes the elec-
tion of a successor to Judas in the Apostleship, and evidently
presides and directs the whole proceedings."t
" So, so," replied Sefton, laughing; "I see you would make
Peter play the Pope at a very early hour, in appointing a Bishop,
a successor to an Apostle."
" I only mention the fact, and leave the inference to your own
good sense," said the Prelate. " But to proceed. When ' no
small contest' was raised among the Christians of Antioch,
wheiher they were bound to observe the Mosaic law, 'the Apos-
tles and Ancients assembled to consider of this matter ; and
when there had been much, disputing,' Peter arose and pronounced
;i definitive sentence. He had no'sooner spoken, when ' all the
multitude held their peace.' "+
" I must allow," said Sefton, " that looks very much like an
authoritative decision of the Papal See."
" Nothing less, I assure you. Peter speaks, and the cause is
decided : every opposing voice is hushed ; all submit, and trie
contest is ended. It is worthy also of your serious reflection,
that neither Paul nor Barnabas, though both Apostles, could oi
themselves decide the controversy of Antioch, but were obliged
to repair to Jerusalem, where Peter was, to have the matter
settled. This tact indicates clearly that Peter exercised a su-
premacy over the Apostles and over the whole Church."
Selton was sensibly moved and briefly answered : " I fee!
the full force of your remark, and I do not exactly see how it is
to be answered."
* John xvii. 11. t Acts i. 15. t Acts xv.
FATHER OSWALD. 20""
"St. Paul," continued the Prelate, ' ; did not begin 11 is a pas
lolic labours before he had visited Peter, for he tells us, ' After
three years I went to Jerusalem to see Peter, and I tarried with
him fifteen days.'* The object of his visit, it can hardly be
doubted, was to confer with him upon the Gospel which he had
to preach among the Gentiles.t Thus we see that St. Paul,
though called by God himself to the Apostleship, did not pre-
sume to enter into his mission without the approbation of Peter.
Moreover, we find Peter pronouncing on the writings of St.
Paul as one having authority: ' As also our most dear brother
Paul, according to the wisdom given him, hath written to you ;
as also in all his Epistles, .... in which are certain things hard
to be understood, which the unlearned and unstable wrest, as
they do the other scriptures, to their own destruction ;'j as if
the Apostle had in view the presumptuous abuse of modern
Bible readers."
" I grant," said Sefton, " there is a good deal of force in your
argument, on the supposition that Christ really conferred a pri-
macy on Peter."
" That supposition rests on the most explicit words of Christ
himself, as I have already proved," replied Monsignore Guidi.
" But how can it be proved that the present Popes of Rome
are the successors of St. Peter 1" asked Sefton.
"Their names are all upon record; and any person versed
in the history of the Church and the writings of the holy Fath-
ers, will candidly confess that a primacy of jurisdiction has
always been acknowledged in the Bishops of Rome: I refer
you to St. Irenseus. St. Cyprian, St. Basil, in the second, third,
and fourth ages, and to a host of others. The written Word is
very plain on this subject, 'There shall be one fold and one
shepherd.' "
" But, Monsignore," said Sefton, " is it not both presumptuous
and ambitious in the Popes to allow themselves to be styled, and
to take the title of, Vicai of Christ on earth T
" I cannot see it in that light," answered Monsignore Guidi
quietly. " A Vicar is one who holds the place of another, and
is subordinate to him; such is the Pope with respect to Jesus
Christ. Our Blessed Redeemer, under the amiable figure of the
good shepherd, says, 'Other sheep I have, -who are not of this
fold;' that is, the Gentiles, to whom Christ never preached;
1 them also I must bring, and they shall hear my voice, and there
shall be one fold and one shepherd.' It is evident that Christ
has but one fold, collected together from all nations, of which
He is the one supreme shepherd; that is the one Church, ol
which He is the one supreme head."
Gal. i. 18 + Gal ii. 2 12 Peter iii. 15. 4 John x. 18
208 FATHER OSWALD.
" But what has that to do with my objection 1" said Sefton.
"Becau.se," continued the Prelate, " when o;ir Saviour was
about to leave tins earth, he would not leave his one flock with-
out a visible head. For this office he selected Peter, to whom
he had already promised the ' keys of the Kingdom of Heaven ;'
'.hat is, the supreme jurisdiction and government of his Church,
and now he fulfils his promise. ' When, therefore, they had
dined, Jesus saith to Simon Peter: Simon, son of John, lovest
ihou me more than these 1 He saith to him, Feed my lambs.
He saith to him again, Simon, son of John, lovest thou me 7
. He saith to him, Yes, Lord; thou knowest that I love thee.
He saiih to him, Feed my lambs. He saith to him the third
time, Simon, son of John, lovest thou me? Peter was grieved,
because he had said to him the third time, Lovest thou me ] And
he saith to him, Lord, thou knowest all things: thou knowest
that I love thee. He said to him, Feed my sheep.'* Here
Christ, in the most formal and explicit manner, gives to Peter,
the predecessor of the Popes, the care of his whole flock", great
as well as little, sheep as well as lambs, all the Pastors who feed
the flock, as well as the flock itself; and this vicegerent author-
ity has passed to all the successors of Peter, and fully entitles
them to the venerable appellation of Vicar of Christ on earth."
" In that sense," replied Sefton. " each Bishop in his diocese
may be considered the Vicar of Christ."
11 In a limited sense, with respect to their immediate subjects
and subordination to their head, the Pope, the expression may be
admitted, as all the Apostles were truly ' the ambassadors of
Christ ;' but still there is need of one supreme head, without
which there could be no centre of unity no bond of peace to
keep the Church united in the 'nnefati/i;' to gather the sheep
and lambs into the 'one f'lld.' Nothing can show the necessity
of this union more than the innumerable dissensions into which
every sect that has broken loose from the Ibid of Peter, has mis-
erably split. I appeal to the history, past and present, of youi
o\vn Church."
li 1 cannot deny," answered Sefton with some hesitation and
a blush of conscious weakness. " but that our Church has been
too much harrassed by turbulent innovators, and that we have
no etficacious means of suppressing them."
' : Such being the necessity of the case," replied Monsignore
Guicli, " as your own experience proves, you must allow that
Christ, as a wise legislator, has provided a remedy for the evil.
You have sought for it in vain during three hundred years. We
show it in the supremacy of Peter, as the Catholic Church has
enjoyed it for eighteen centuries."
* Jcl.n xxi 15, 16. 17
FATHER OSWALD. 209
" That bond of union," said Sefton, " is not so strong as not
lo have been frequently snapped asunder."
" It is. however, sufficiently strong," replied Monsignore
Guidi, ' to hold those who have the good-will to be directed by
the ordinance of eternal wisdom. God constrains no man ; and
if man chooses to swerve from the way appointed by Christ, Ms
own perdition must fall on his own head."
"Aye, there again," exclaimed Sefton. "your odious illiberality
bursts forth. Catholics certainly are the most intolerant people
on the face of the earth : they never will allow salvation to be
found in any Church but their own."
" Truth, my dear Sir," said the Prelate, " is ever intolerant of
falsehood. Possessed of the truth, we must necessarily repro-
bate error ; but we know how to pity the erring, and the first
effect of our compassion is to admonish them charitably of their
danger. We tell them that we cannot be more lenient than
Christ himself. Now, who said, ' He that believeth not shall
oe condemned T* was it not the Saviour himself?"
" I believe it was," muttered Sefton.
" Yes ; and the Catholic Church teaches that Jesus established
but one Church lor the salvation of man, and that out of that
one Church salvation is not to be had; reason tells us that Christ,
' the way, the truth, and the life,' could never be the author ot
two contradictory systems of faith, and the Apostle expressly
declares that there is but 'one Lord, one faith, one baptism. 'i
Invincible ignorance, indeed, may save a soul, but how many
Protestants are there who know far too much to lay claim to
that privilege; and Oh ! my dear Sefton," added he earnestly,
" think of those most emphatic words of the Redeemer himself,
'and other sheep I have that are not of this fold; them also I
must bring, and they shall keu r my voice, and there shall be one
fold and om shepherd.' "
Sefton sighed.
" From this," continued Monsignore Guidi, "it appears there
are m?ny sheep straying widely from the fold, which He earn-
est!}' wishes to bring back. You, my clear Sir, have seen and
heard enough to make you doubt lest you be one of these stray
ed sheep. Oh ! listen to his voice, and harden not your heart
but retnrn to that fold over which Christ has placed the one shep
herd his Vicar on earth."
Sefton appeared agitated, but he endeavoured to conceal hii
emotions. By this time they had arrived at the hotel, and tin
friends separated, having engaged to meet the Ibllowing mrrn-
ing at the same hour.
* Mark xvi. 16. t Ephe's. iv. 5.
2lO FATHER OSWALD.
CHAPTER XXVII.
" I am thy father's spirit,
Doomed for a certain time to walk tho night,
And for thp day confined to fast in fire,
Till the foul crimes, done in rny days of nature,
Are burnt and purged away." SHAKSPEAUE.
EVERY one, who has been in Rome during the first week o!
November, must have been struck with the pensive melancholy,
and the lugubrious tone of the church service during that time;
the slow and solemn tolling of the bells the monotonous ch;;nt
of the office ibr the dead the sombre hue of the church orna-
ments and hangings and, above all, the innumerable Masses
celebrated in black vestments, as expiatory sacrifices for those
relations, and friends, and fellow-creatures, who have gone
beibre us to be judged at the awful tribunal of the living God.
Who, with a heart alive to the tender affections and sympathies
of humanity, has not been struck with this! In every street, a!
every church door, the poor and the children remind us to pray
for the friends we have lost ; and who were, perhaps, but a lew
fleeting months ago, all the world to us. Those beloved ones !
to our partial and doating eyes they seemed, perhaps, as near
perfection as human nature is capable of; but who shall encoun
ter the glance of the living God and not be found covered with
blemishes 1 If even the very Seraphim tremble in His sight,
shall not the just man, 'who tails seven times,' tremble also!
Great God ! how few there are, who rush from Thy tribunal to
Thy bosom. Other friends, two, we may, perchance, have lost,
who, though dear to us as our heart's core, yet we knew were
careless livers and full of frailties. We cannot think a just
and merciful God will condemn them to everlasting torments,
for frailties so much counterbalanced by their redeeming faith,
and many virtues. No! no! they are but suffering, and suffer-
ing for a time, and it is in our power to help them, if we will ;
perhaps, even, it depends on us to be the means of placing them
in eternal repose at anv moment. Can we have the heart to
shut our ears to their entreaties for help in their utmost need 1
certainly not: and what tongue can tell their joy, their peace,
Iheir repose, when, by our prayers, we have moved God to re-
.ease them from their excruciating torments! what tongue can
tell their gratitude to us for this last and tender act of ch rity !
'But stay; there are some people who will not perform this act
of charity; and why 1 Perhaps they have lost no friends: it
FATHER OSWALD. 211
musl be so. Oh ! no. that is not the reason of their negligence ;
they hare lost, alas! too many. Some of them, perhaps, in
early youth, while yet in invincible ignorance, like some tender
snow-drop buried under deep, freezing snow; others, wavering
in thei: faith, sincerely, yet feebly, resolving to embrace the
truth, if found ; whom God, in His inscrutable ways, snatched
from amongst the living ere they brought their good resolutions
to bear fruit; and these dear lost ones were most tenderly be-
loved, and the relations they have left in this earthly vale have
tender and most compassionate hearts ; but they say ' there is nr
Purgatory ;' and thus they leave their poor friends suffering and
lingering in the reality of its torments, while they excuse them-
selves from succouring them by a bold assertion that Purgatory
is a vile Popish superstition ; and they eat, and drink, and enjoy
themselves, while those, that were nearest and dearest to them,
are agonizing in their utmost need. So much for Protestant
charity and liberality! Oh! would to God they could be in-
duced calmly to investigate, whether their assertion, is not more
chimerical than the existence of a Purgatory.
Sefton attended the High Mass celebrate'd for the repose ol
the souls of the faithful departed in the Sistine Chapel, and the
mournful and pathetic sUains ot the 'Dies iras, dies ilia', sur-
passed even his already excited anticipation. The Pope's choir,
which consists of the finest voices, who sing without the aid of
instrumental music, is peculiarly calculated for the execution of
music of a solemn and plaintive description. There is a wild
and melancholy cadence, produced by this union of human voices
in perlect harmony, which cannot, perhaps, be imitated by any
other combination of sounds in nature, but which fully and sur-
passingly expresses the deepest and most agonizing feelings of
the soul. During this unrivalled execution of the simple and
sublime ' Dies iroe,' Sefton was ri vetted, and, as it were, enchanted
in attention, and the whole of the prayers and lessons which he
heard, and which have all reference to the suffering state of
our lellow-creatures who have already entered eternity, struck
him as peculiarly beautifu 1 and appropriate; and he thought
within himself, that had he believed in a middle state of seals,
they would have been consoling too. While descending the
staircase of the Vatican, after the service was finished, Sefton
was agreeably surprised to meet his friend, the Bishop of S ,
and family. A warm meeting ensued; but as Sefton had en-
gaged to go with Monsignore Guidi to visit some of the princi-
pal sculptors in Rome, he made the Bishop and his family
promise to come and dine with him in the afternoon. Monsig
uore Guidi agreed to join the party, though he was somewhat
ria FATHER OSWALD.
startled at Mrs. Boren being introduced as the Bishop's wile-
but a moment's reflection recalled to his mind, that the good
Bi?V>p had, in reality, as groundless a title to holy orders as ady
young seminary student, who had merely taken the tonsure, still
retaining the liberty of choosing a wife instead of a breviary as
Ms companion for life, if so the fancy took him. At six o'clock,
(hey all met at Serny's Hotel. Befor 'hey sat down to Table, to
Edward's unspeakable vexation and ..ime, for he coloured
Deeply, Monsignore Guidi said grace, and made the sign of the
Cross. The Bishop stared, the Captain and Lavinia exchanga?
"lances, and Mrs. Boren looked things unutterable. The Pre-
late, quite unconscious that he had done any thingextraordinary,
uietly eat his soup. After dinner, while coflce was being
served, the Bishop turned to Monsignore Guidi, and said, " I
understand Sir, there was some extremely fine music this morn-
\tg at the Vatican. I was. unfortunately, too late for it.'"
li Yes, it was very fine indeed," replied Monsignore Guidi,
'and well worth the attention of a traveller. 1 '
" What was it particularly 1" said Miss Lavinia.
' It was the ' Dies iron,' " said Sefton, " one of the most beau-
lifnl pieces of music I ever heard."
"You will have an opportunity, my Lord, of hearing it to-
morrow, though perhaps not so fine as it was to-day," said the
Prelate ; " to-morrow, Mass is celebrated for the souls of the
deceased Popes."
" The souls of the Popes ! how very ridiculous !" exclaimed
the Captain
" What a queer idea !' tittered Lavinia.
" A very cruel one, I think," drawled out Mrs. Boren. "I
think the Catholic religion, instead of lessening sorrow, aggra-
vates it, by sending its T.embers to Purgatory. The poor old
Popes ! I wonder how long they are left to fry there."
Miss Lavinia giggled out aloivl.
" I suppose, Ma'am, yon think," said Monsisrriore Guidi sig-
nificantly, " the doctrine hnld by many/nodern Protestants, that
me torments of hell are 'tint, eternal. a much more consoling
and comfortable dogma- No doubt it is for hardened sinners,
to whom it is thus no longer ' a fearful thing to fall into the
nands of the living God.' "*
" 1 never mentioned, nor thought of such a frightful, disa-
greeable place, I am sure, Sir," said Mrs. Boren, with a look of
horror ; " but God is very good, and who knows how it may be 7"
" Yes," continued Monsignore Guidi, "Protestants began by de-
nying Purgatory, and man}' of them have ended by changing
Ileb. x. 31
FATHER OSWALD. 5213
rtell irio Purgatory, or noplace of punishment atall. This, no
doubt, is well calculated to assuage sorrow and dissipate all the
sn.perstitious horrors ot' a future state, and therefore must be a
more perfect form of Protestantism than that which still keeps
its votaries in the horrid dread of eternal flames. It may not,
to be sure, be quite so conformable to the letter of -Holy Scrip-
ture, but then it is more rational; in the meantime, I have
doubts whether 'the God of revenge' will approve of this doc-
trine."
" You are pleased to be severe, Sir," said the Bishop, pom-
pously. " Now I simply state it as my conviction, that Purga-
lory is contrary to Scripture, and was never heard of in the
Christian Church till it became full of corruptions."
" Then," answered Monsignore Guidi, : ' how can you account
for me fact that all the Fathers of the four or five first ages,
when the supposed abominations of Popery had not yet made
much progress in th,e Church, concur in the doctrine of a middle
state V
" Is that really true, Sir 1" said Sefton eagerly.
" In all the earliest Liturgies, prayers are offered for the dead,"
answered Monsignore Guidi, "and this practice of the primitive
Church proves its faith."
" My dear Sei'ton," interposed the Bishop, " I do assure you
Purgatory is a most pernicious error, and, moreover, contrary
to Scripture: because as Christ's death was an all-sufficient
atonement for sin, to make man sutler also for that sin, is either
a contradiction, or an assertion that more suffering is inflicted
an is necessary."
Sefton looked puzzled.
" The atonement of Christ," said the Prelate, " is all-sufficient
for the sins of the whole world; yet man is still condemned to
suffer for his sins. What are poverty, toil, labour, sickness and
death, but the punishments of God inflicted on sin? If no suffer-
ings be necessary on the part of sinful man, after the all-sulH-
cient atonement of Christ, why are not all the miseries of life
and death itself abolished 1 That is a question I should like to
!>-?ar you solve on your own principles. For my part, I say,
happy the man who can discharge the debt of punishment due
to his sins, by these temporary inflictions ; for such a hap[ ysoul
there is no Purgatory."
" The strongest argument a Catholic can bring in favour of
Purgatory," said the Bishop, waving his hand, "is from the
books of the Maa.abees; but our Reformation rejects these."
" I am perfectly aware that your Reformation rejects the
Maccabees," anvwered Monsignore Guidi ; " but you will permit
ll
9. I FATHER OSWALD.
me to observe, that this rejection made by modern reicrmtrs
oau bear no weight when made in opposition to all antiquity, in
opposition to the universal Church, the only one extant at the
:tiuie of the pretended Reformation, excepting the Greek schis-
ittiatics, who believed and still believe in Purgatory. Your LorJ-
sh.'p must also permit me to deny that the Catholic draws his
-strongest argument in favour of Purgatory from the books oi
;thc Maccabees : Lotus even suppose them to bear no weight,
sliil the belief of a middle stale is supported by many other tei:U
/of the Old and New Testament."
" How so, Sir how so V said the Bishop impatiently.
" Is it not written," replied Monsignore Guidi, 1; ' Thou also,
: by (iie blood of thy Testament, hast sent forth thy prisoners out
of Ihe pit wherein is no water '* Now lhat pit cannot be Hell,
as out of Hell there is no redemption. Consequently, it must
:be a place of temporal punishment, Irom which redemption is
had by the blood of the Testament."
" Pretty strong," cried the Captain; i: that's the pit for me,
'then ; tor if I remember rightly what was thumped into my
head at school, they used to tell me that from the other pit there
is no redemption."
"Silence, yung m::n.'' said his father, frowning.
" But," continued the Prelate. : ' what St. Paul says is yet
trouger: 'Every man's work -shall be made manifest; for the
day oi the Lordhall dccbire.it, because it shall be revealed by
fire ; and the fire shall try every man's work of what sort it is.
If any man's work abide, which he has built thereupon, he shall
receive a reward. If any miin's work burn, he shall suffer loss ;
but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by lire. 't Now this
text hcirdly requires any comment : from it, it plainly appears
that, although the works of man have been substantially good
and pleasing to Almighty God, yet, on account of many defor-
mities, the effects of human frailty and corruption, man must be
cleansed by a purging and punishing, yet saving tire, before he
.can be admitted into that sanctuary into which 'nothing defiled
can enter.' ";
" Well and good." said the Bishop; "if such is your faith.
'be satisfied, but excuse me from entering; farther into the sub-
ject. Controversy, in my opinion, is extremely disagreeable in
society, especially when one wishes to enjoy a social evening.
Come, Sefton," continued he, "cannot you furnish us with a
pack of cards, that Mrs. Boren and I may have our usual game ''"
Sefton rung for the cards, but he was by no means either
pleased or satisfied at the Bishop's having beat a retreat in that
* Zacll. ix. 11. t 1 Cor. lii. 13, 14 15. t Apoc. xxi. 2?
FATHER -. . ALD. 215
y<e. Monsignore Guidi's observation, thai the practice of the
Church in its primitive ages, of praying lor the dead, proved its
faith in Purgatory, even in the very earliest period of Christian-
ity, had struck him forcibly, and he would willingly have dived
more deep into the subject had not his fear of annoying the
Bishop of S prevented him. Alter the party had broken
up. he sat musing over the expiring embers of the fire, until he
had made up his mind to call the next day on Father Oswald, to
near all that could be stated on the subject; for, thought he, if
she Catholics of the present day coincide with the first Christians
sc exactly on this point, they may do so in others also ; it is
certainly very singular. " I cannot well see," said he. '' what
induced the first relbrmers to object to Purgatory, and I think it
is but justice to both parties to have my mind satisfied on this
subject. I shall, moreover, ask at the same time, the grounds
Catholics pretend to have for that odious custom of making the
sign of the Cross, especially at meal times. I prefer asking
him to asking Guidi, because Guidi misrht think it personal."
The next day Sefton accordingly called on Father Oswald, and,
after a little conversation on general topics, he, with a slight
degree of embarrassment, mentioned the object of his visit. " I
heard, Sir, yesterday," said he, "a conversation on Ptirgntory,
vhich interested me much; but as some circumstances inter-
rupted this conversation, I have taken the liberty of coming to
ask you the real Catholic opinion on this point."
"My dear friend," said Father Oswald s;ently, " the Catholic
has no ofiinwu on this point, he has faith. The Catholic Church,
the supreme tribunal of our faith, teaches that there is a Purga-
tory or place of temporal punishment after death, and that the
souls therein detained are helped by the prayers of the faithful,
aid especially by the holy sacrifice of the Mass."* This decree
of the Church, in general council met, is sufficient fora Catho-
lic to regulate his faith on the subject, and convince him more
forcibly of the existence of a Purgatory, with the usefulness ot
piayers for the dead, than all the arguments drawn from Scrip-
lure or from reason. Still it is a satisfaction to a Catholic,
already convinced by the authority of the Church, to find that
even the plain words of Scripture, and the plainest dictates of
reason, are in perfect union with the declaration of the Chinch."
"If such be the case," said Sefton, ' ; no doubt a Catholic
may be satisfied ; but the Council of Trent, vou know, is.a very
modern concern iu comparison to the duration of Christianity.
But what I want to know is, if the first Christians in the age?
immediately following the life of the Saviour, held and practiced
* Con. Tri. Scss. 25. Decret. de Pur?.
216 FATHER OSWALD.
the same faith and doctrines on Purgatory as the Catholics ot
(he present clayT'
' Most assuredly they did," said Father Oswald.
"Well, now, how can you prove ill"
" The writings of the holy Fathers, of both the eastern and
western Church, mast clearly prove, that from the first dawn ol
Christianity, the belief of a Purgatory was general in the Church.
Tertullian, the famous champion of the Christian religion, who
lived ia the second age, says, ' No man will doubt but that the
toul cloth recompense something in the places below.'* And
again, in his book, Dz Corona JMilil-is, ' We make yearly obla-
tions lor the dead.' St. Clement, in the same age, tells us, St.
Peter taught them, amongst other works of mercy, to bury the
dead, and diligently perform their funeral rites, and also to pray,
and give alms for them."t
" That is a striking passage, certainly, and clearly traces the
practice up to the Apostle.-," replied Set ton.
" Undoubtedly," said Father Oswald ; " and St. Cyprian says,
' It is one thing being cast into prison, not to go out thence till
he pay the utmost farthing, another presently to receive the re-
ward of faith ; one thing being afflicted with long pains for sins
to be mended, and purged long with fire ; another to have purged
nil sins by sufferings.': In the fourth age St Ambrose says,
' But. whereas St. Paul says yet so as by fire, he shows, indeed,
that he shall be saved, but yet shall suffer the punishment ol
fire ; that being purged by fire, he may be saved, and not tor-
mented Ibrever, as the infidels are, with everlasting fire.'
Again, in ihe same age, St. Jerome says, ' This is that which
he saith, Thou shall not go out of prison till thou shalt pay even
ihv liitle sins ;'ll in the same age, St. Cyril, of Jerusalem, says,
1 We beseech God for all those who have died before us believ-
ing the observation of that holy and dreadi'ul sacrifice, which is
put on the altar to be the greatest help of the souls for which i'.
is offered.' "1T
" It appears, then," said Sefton thoughtfully, " that from the
earliest times Mass was also offered for the dead, as it is now V
" To be sure it was: does not St. Jerome say, ' These things
were not in vain ordained by tk". Apostles; that in the venerablo
<ind dreadful mysteries of the Mass, there should be made a me-
ir>ory of those who have departed this life; they knew mucb
benefit would hence accrue to them" 1** It would fill volumes to
* Lib. de Anima, c. 53. t Epis. i. <le S. Petro.
t Epis. 52, al Anton. f Cap. 3, Epis. ad Cor
I c. v. Malt. IT Catccli. Myst. 5.
** Homil. 3, in Epist. ad 1'hillip
FATHER OSWALD. 217
(,HOIP all those passages from the holy Fathers, which prove the
beiiei in the third place, and prayers for the dead to be coeva.
wiin Christianity; those I have quoted, lived twelve, thirteen,
and fourteen, centuries before the pretended Reformation, ana
were of course better judges of genuine apostolical tradition,
than the reformers could be. Yes, my good friend, rest assured
that ' it is therefore a holy and wholesome thought to pray for
the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.' "*
" Oh ! now you are coming over me with the Maccabees,'
said Sefton, smiling; "the Protestant reformers reject them,
you know."
" Nevertheless," said Father Oswald, " in the earliest ages ol
Christianity, we rind the holy Fathers quoting the Maccabees,
as well as 'other Scripture. Witness St. Clement of Alexan-
dria, Origen, St. Cyprian, St. Jerome, and St. Augustine. The
books of the Maccabees are by the Church of Christ honoured
and proclaimed as divine books The third Council of Car-
thage, as well as the General Council of Trent,t declare the
two books of Maccabees to be divine.y inspired : and surely
the Church of Christ has as much authority as the Jewish
Synagogue to pronounce on the authenticity of Holy Scripture."
" Well, but," said Sefton, "even putting out of the question
these two disputed books, there is a sentence from Ecclesias-
tes, which book is received by both parties, which is very strong
against Purgatory : I think it says, ' If the tree fall to the south,
cr to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it
b?.' ":
"Admitting," said the Fathtr, " that the Scripture here speaks
of the soul after death, which, indeed, is highly probable, how
does this make against Purgatory"? We believe that there are
only l\vo eternal states after death ; namely, the state of glory,
and the state of damnation. If the soul depart in the state of
grace, it shall be for ever in that state, although it may have
ome venial sins to satisfy for, which may for a time retard the
onsummation of its happiness. If it die in the state of mortal
sin, and an enemy of God, it shall be for ever in torments.
1 lere are two everlasting states, which may be meant by the
n >rth and south of the above text. If this interpretation is not
s.- tis factory, yon must prove it to be false. Used as we are to
submit in religious matters to none but an infallible authority,
we cannot be put off by mere opinions."
" But," said Sefton, " docs not this doctrine of Purgatory cast
a reproach on Christ as a Saviour of sinners, representing his
-bed'ience and sufferings as insufficient to atone for their sins I"
* 2 Mace. xii. 43. 4f>. t Sess. 4. * Eccles. xi 3
10*
'J18 KATIIKR OSWALD.
" This objection, my dear Sir, will appear very trifling,* 5
answered Father Oswald, '-when you know, that the Catholic
Church teaches, that the merits of Jesus Christ are of them-
selves far more than sufficient to atone ibr all the sins of man-
kind."
" Now, Sir, your answer proves too much and therefore
proves nothing. For, considering the sufficiency of Christ's
sufferings </><///, it would follow that no man can be damned."
" But Jesus Christ requires our co-operation," replied the
father, "and it depends upon the degree of our co-operation,
whether those infinite merits of Christ are applied to us in a more
or less abundant measure. It. is in the order of grace, as in the
order of nature. 'In the sweat of thy face, shall, thou eat th.y
bread.'* God's omnipotence alone gives growth to our grain;
yet without casting a reproach on that omnipotence, we may
safely assert, that in proportion as we plough, manure, and sow,
in that proportion we shall reap. So likewise, although Christ's,
merits and satisfaction for sinners are of infinite value, yet the
benefits we shall reap from those infinite merits will be propor-
tionate to our endeavours, in subduing our corrupt nature and
sinful inclinations, and in conforming ourselves in all things to
the will of God. ' He who soweth sparingly, shall also reap spar-
ingly ; and he who soweth in blessings, shall also reap of bless-
ings.'t He, then, who soweth so sparingly in this world, as to
remain in his dying moment indebted to the divine justice, will
after his death be compelled to pay to the last farthing, what by
more seriouy endeavours he might have paid in this world."
There was a pause : at length Sefton said, " I certainly can-
not see what motives could have induced the first reformers to
reject Purgatory ; it appears so very reasonable."
"Nor I either," said Father Oswald quietly; <: the greatest
part of mankind, (all those who believe in revelation.) excepting
the followers of the sni-disant, re.'brmers, and numbers of those
who are guided by reason alone, agree in the belief of a place
of temporal punishment, and in the practice of praying for the
dead. If, then, the Protestant continues to assert that he cannot
Jind Purgatory in Scripture, nor the practice of praying for the
dead, the Catholic Church and the Greek Church answer, that
they find both the doctrine and the practice veiy clearly in
Holy Scripture : if the Protestant peremptorilv decides that
the belief in a Purgatory is absurd, and the practice of praying
for the dead ridiculous, we, on the other hand, possessed ot
common sense, as well as our good Protestant neighbours, en-
lightened by a liberal education, as well as they, endowed bj
* Gen. iii. 19. ? 2 Oi. ix. 6
FATHUR OSWALD. 2l9
('enius and taints capable of the most profound disquisitions,
ia shori, many of us adorned with all the perfections of the
inderstanding, which nature can give or education improve,
we answer that we find the belief of a place of temporal
] unishment and the practice of praying for the dead perfectly
.easonab'e."
" The truth of what you say cannot be denied," said Seftor.
slowly.
'Well, then," continued the Father, " here is reason opposed
to reason; common sense to common sense; genius and talents,
to genius and talents; but the reason, common sense, and tal-
ents of the very many in favour of Purgatory, opposed to the
reason, and common sense, and talents, of the com parti vel view
ai'ainst Purgatory ; now who shall decide; and decide so as to
put the question ibr ever at rest 7"
" Oh ! that is the point," exclaimed Sefton eagerly.
"None," said Father Oswald, reverently raising the clerical
cap irom his head, " can decide but the great tribunal, which
Jesus Christ established on earth more tnan eighteen hundred
years ago. When infusing into his ministers the Spirit of truth,
he promised that that Spirit should never depart Irom them to
the end of time. This tribunal, as I have already stated, has
decided in our favour, and it is because that supreme and infal-
lible tribunal has decided so, that we believe as we do."
Selion sighed deeply. " There is much to reflect on, Sir,"
said he, "in the information you have given me, and I sincerely
thank you for it. I trust, however, you will excuse me if I
trouble you on one subject more and that is. the practice whirh
Catholics have of making so often what they call the sign of
me Cross; especially at meal times. Now, my dear Sir, you
have no idea how foolish and superstitious this appears to Pro-
testants !"
" Really ! and why, pray V
"Oh ! it is so singular and childish ; this monkish trick al
/east can assuredly never have received any sanction from the
irthodox Christians of the early Church."
" I beg your pardon," said the Father, smiling, "what, then,
nan St. Cyprian mean, when he says, ' Let us not be ashamed
t> confess Him who was crucified ; let the sign of the Crass be
confidently made upon the forehead with the finger' ?"
" I should like much to see that passage, Sir," said SeJ'ton
simewhat doubtingly.
" Nothing easier," replied Father Oswald, rising, "ifyoun-ilj
a. company me to the library."
" Mast willingly," answered Sefton : and. to the library thev
2120 rATHKR OSWALD.
adjourned, where Father Oswald showed him not omy that, bu
the lollowing passage in Tertullian : ' We sign ourselves with
the sign of the Cross on the forehead, whenever we go Irom
home, or return, when we put on our clothes, or our shoes, when
we go to the bath, or *it t/oicn tn meal, when we light our can-
dles, when ve lie down, and when we sit.' Sei'ton read, and
was surprised ; he mused a little, but adroitly turned the con-
versation on general liteiatu r e; and as the shades of evening
closed in, he left the library of the Gesu with regret, and r.o!
without threatening Father Oswald with another visit. ' Yes,"
thought he to himself, as he reached Serny's door, " if I act
candidly, I certainly ought to enquire more particularly into the
real tenets of Catholicity, lor I have heard some extraordinary
statements to-day. May God give me the grace to do that which
is right !" added he, sighing involuntarily as he rung the bel]
for candles.
CHAPTER XXVIII.
" Ave Maria ! Mother blest,
To whom caressing and caressed,
Clings the eternal Child :
Favoured beyond Archangel's dream,
When first on thee, with lenderest gleam/
Thy new-born Saviour smiled
" Ave Maria ! Thou whose name
All but adoring love may cl-iim,
Yet may we reach thy shrine ;
For He, thy Son and Saviour, vows
To crown all lowly, lofty brows,
With love and joy like thine."
Christian Year. KEBI.E.
" Mr deal Sefton," said the Bishop, "you must come and eat
your Christmas dinner with me to-morrow, that we may keep
up good old English customs, even in this strange land."
" Yes," added Mrs. Boren ; " from what I am given to under-
stand, a good dinner will be very acceptable alter all the fatigues
of the previous night. I am told people are up all night, to see
the rocking of the cradle, and keep going from one church to
another, to see the gross superstitions being carried on."
" That is to say," said Monsignore Guidi gravely, " the Pro-
.estant part of the world who happen to be in Rome at this holy
FATHER OSWALD. 221
time, choose to rj;.ke a night of dissipation of it ; hurrying from
one church to another, and even eating and drinking, and doing
many indecorous things in the sanctuary of God, to the no small
scandal and annoyance of Catholics."
' And pray, Sir, why should they not go from one church to
another!" interrupted Miss Lavinia; "Ihope Mamma will go;
I am sun it will be such capital fun to see all the superstitions
of the ignorant Papists."
" The Papists are much obliged to you for your politeness,"
said MonsignoreGuidi, bowing ironically ; "but it really argues
a great perversion of the human intellect, to imagine it possible
for a Christian people who have received the Gospel to relapse
again into idolatry. I could more easily conceive it possible tor
a poor deluded ChrLnian to adore the sun and the rnoon than a
senseless block of stone. This reflection should make you
distrust your prejudices; however, if you go this evening to St.
Mary Major's, I hope you may be fortunate enough to meet some
poor ignorant Catholic to explain to you what you may see."
" Oh ! I hate explanations," said the young lady ; " I have
eyes and ears, and can judge for myself: all I care about is the
fun and the novelty."
"With all your eyes and ears, Miss Lavinia," rejoined the
Prelate good-'iumouredly, "it is very possible to see objects
under a false light, and interpret actions in a wrong sense, par-
ticularly when a person is predetermined to find faults where
other persons see none."
Lavinia was nettled at the remark; she blushed deeply and
bit her lips, but did not venture a reply. Sel'ton said nothing,
but he d^'-ermined in his own mind not to join the Bishop's party
in ihe church, for he shrewdly suspected he should have to blush
for his countrymen. He and Monsignore Guidi promised to
join the Bishop at dinner on Christmas-day, and the party sepa-
rated. Sefton attended all the ceremonies on Christmas night,
in company with Monsignore Guidi, and was much struck with
(be beauty of the service, and the splendid illumination of the
church of St. Marv Major. He was also much pleased with
the piety of the crowds who flocked to this beautiful temple, to
do honour to the Infant Saviour and His Virgin Mother. Sef-
ton had still about his person the medal of the Blessed Virgin,
given him by Sister Angela ; many a time a scruple crossed
his mind, whether he was justified in conscience by so doing.
As often, however, as he was tempted to cast it from him, he
appeased the misgiving by the reflection that he bore the medal
as a keepsake and remembrance of a pious soul, at whose hands
he had received the greatest kindness in an hour of utmost need.
He had promised to wear it for her sake, aii-1 he was rivlvea
to keep his word; there could be neither superstition nor iiv piety
in gratitude. But in that auspicious night he reflected th'vt he
owed more to Mary, who had given birth to the Saviour of his
soul, than to Angela, who had only ministered to the health ol
his body. From that moment his scruples vanished. Wit:: the
remembrance of the benefits received i'rom Sister Angela, he
now joined a greater veneration for the Mother of Jesus, from
whom he had received the greater benefit, and whose benign
mage the medal bore. His respect and affection increased as
%e gazed, almost with a feeling of enthusiasm; on the devotion
f the multitudes around him, who thronged on this hallowrd
night to her sanctuary, to join with the angelic choirs in praising
he Almighty for the" birth of the Infant Saviour, " Glory be )
Jlod on high, and peace on earth to men of good will !" " Afte."
all," thought Sefton lo himself, "Mary is the mother of Jesus,
really and truly ; even Protestants allow that. When they were
both living amongst men in this world, she, by her intercession^
Jiduced Him to work His first miracle at the marriage least of
Jana, and to anticipate His hour, which, as He said, ' was not
1 el. come.' I cannot really see that there is any thing so very
unreasonable in thinking she may interest herself !br us now,
-liough she is in Heaven ; and still less is it reasonable, I think,
O imagine that her Son would refuse her any request which she
night present Him 1'or us, seeing how dearly our redemption
cost Him." Whether Edward would have owned these reflec-
tions to his Protestant friends is doubtful ; nevertheless, it is
certain that he made them, and that he retired to bed in a calm,
and tranquil state of mind.
The Bishop's Christmas dinner was as merry a Christmas
dinner as roast beef and plum-pudding could make it. There
was abundance of chat and mirth during the whole evening; and
ven the Bishop expressed himself delighted at the fine iiiumi-
"alions he had seen, and the beautiful music he had heard.
" I hope, my Lord, you were edified also at the devotion von
have witnessed V said Monsignore Guidi.
" Why, as to that, Monsignore," answered the Bishop, " it is
not, to my mind, devotion of the right kind ; being princi|>n'ly
b -dressed to the creature, instead ol the Creator to the Motl.'vr,
instead of the Son."
For my part," said Monsignore Guidi with animation, " I
ti^rsot conceive it possible !br a devout Christian to contemplate
..,? Jivine Infant, laid in the manger at Bethlehem, and not a~
so' v.<e with Him the humble mother who bore so great a share
ia ;* mystery."
FATHER OSWALD. 223
" What hi lordship observes is too true," lisped o;it Mrs.
Boren. as sue helped herself to a ham-sandwich from the tray
of cold refreshments, which were to terminate the luxuries ol
the evening. " I cannot approve of all these images, and pic-
'.ures. and illuminations, and music : they are such unworthy
attempts to move, not our souls, but our senses!"
' : If it be not through the senses, I know not by what othei
means we can ever reach tfi? soul" said Monsignore Guidi-
'' and philosophers are generally agreed that the eye is a more
faithful channel than the ear. A holy painting, an impressive
ceremony, will often make a deeper and more lasting impression
on the mind than the most eloquent sermon."
" Perhaps on some gross and material natures," said Mrs.
Boren contemptuously, "but not on those blessed with reiine-
ment, and enlightened by the pure light of the Reformation."
" Well, my dear Mcdam," replied the Prelate, "I have fre-
quently heard you profess yourself an enthusiastic admirer of
nature ; now, what is this but to feed the mind and soul through
the senses 1 why, then, should I be prohibited from filling my
soul with pious reflections through the same medium 1"
i: There can be no doubt,'' interposed the Bishop, " that the
sublime scenery of nature is admirably adapted to inspire the
soul with awe and veneration for the great Creator."
"No doubt," said Monsignore Guidi; "yet these sentiments
are still within the bounds of natural religion; they n't well
with the devotions of the contemplative hea'hen. I have no
doubt that the savage who traverses the inttrminable plains,
and forests, and rocks, and floods of his native country, will
often be filled with awe and veneration for the great Spirit, and
will hear his voice in the howl of the tempest or the roar of tho
cataract. With much more reason shall the humble Christian
be moved to the more gentle sentiments of piety, gratitude, love,
and devotion, while he contemplates a lively representation ol
any one mystery of his redemption, be it the divine Infant in
the crib of Bethlehem or the expiring Man-God on Calvary
Almighty God, who formed the constitution of man, ordained a
vast number of imporing ceremonies in the old law for this ex-
press purpose. The v ithering influence of Calvinism chills all
devotion, and would roh us of all external aid."
" I can assure you, Monsignore Guidi," exclaimed Mrs. Boren
warmly, "you may talk about ceremonies till midnight if you
choose, but you will never persuade me that the devotion I have
seen paid to the Virgin since I came abroad, is any thing but
rank superstition."
" My good lady," replied Monsignore Guidi, " nothing is
2*24 FATHER OSWALD.
more shocking to Christian feelings than the proud, supercilious
contempt which Protestants show towards the Virgin Mother of
'.he Redeemer. Most assuredly they can have but little love for
;he Son who try to disparage the Mother. The angel used a
very different style when he spoke to our blessed Lady, announc-
ing to her that she was to be the mother of the Messiah."
" It is much to be lamented, Sir," said the Bishop pompously,
" how the Catholic Church has perverted the sense of Scripture
in regard to the Mother of the Redeemer, who is neither more
nor less than a simple creature. The salutation of the angel,
'Hail, highly-favoured !' are not words upon which the worship
vou pay to Mary can be founded, seeing that words implying
<till greater favour than the words ' highly-favoured' had been
addressed on three occasions to Daniel; and to David, and to
Abraham also words of higher import have been used."
" In the first place," said Monsignore Guidi, " I must protest,
against the new-fangled expression, 'hail, highly favoured.'
The old expression, 'hail, full of grace,' gives the sense of the
Greek term full as well, or better; besides, it is a literal trans-
lation of the Latin version ; which has been used in the Catholic.
Church these eighteen hundred years, and made at a tirne,
when, no doubt, they understood the import of the Greek word
full as well as they do now. Whatever expressions may have
been used to honour Daniel, David, or Abraham, you must allow
that no honour, prerogative, or grace was ever conferred on
them that can be distantly compared to the singular privilege
conferred on Mary when she conceived and bore the Son of the
Most High."
" But," subjoined the Bishop, " Catholics defend their idola-
trous worship of the Virgin from the words addressed by Christ
to his disciple John, on consigning to him the care of his mo-
ther; 'Behold thy mother;' now, the Evangelist simply adds
Ihe consequence of this charge, ' and from that hour that disci-
ple took her unto his own home.' "
'Excuse me, Sir," said the Prelate, "Protestants, indeed,
say, 'l'>.at the disciple took her unto his own home,' but this
last wo. d is not found either in the Greek or Latin ; it is a Pro-
testant addition to the Word of God ; most probably St. John
had no home, and particularly at Jerusalem; the true meaning
is, he took her to himself, into his own possession; he treated
* That is. reckoning from the date of tho first or old version, which was
made in the life lime of the Apostles : probably at the recommendation,
and under the authority, of their thief St. Peter. But reckoning from tne
time. Si Jerome's translation, [the present vulgate] was publ.hed, it
'las been in use beyond 1400 vears
KATIIF.R OSWALD. yj5
per as his own mother; and it is easy to conceive with \vhai
love, respect, and veneration, when she came commended by
the CT/iag accents of his beloved Lord. Now, Catholics do the
same: they love to call her mother; they beseech her to receive,
lliem as her children, as she received John i'or her son; in ;:!!
their doubts and anxieties, in all their difficulties and dangers,
they invoke her as their mother, because they are persuaded,
and have experienced, that her intercession with her divine
Son is all-powerful ; I'or what can such a Son deny to such a
mother 7"
"I must own," said Sefton firmly, "that it has frequently
struck* me that devotion to the Mother of God for she really is
the Mother of God is both touching and conspling, and rational
too ; for, how is it possible, respect to Mary should be displeasing
to God, who hss selected her in such a very peculiar way i*s
the most highly favoured of his creatures 7"
"Mr. Sexton, you astonish me!" said the Bishop; "I little
thought to hear from your Protestant lips such a blasphemous
expression as ' Mother of God' applied to any creatnre. however
pure 'and highly favoured she may have been. She was the
mother of (he Man-Jesus, but in no sense the Mother of God.''
"What!" exclaimed Monsignore Guidi with astonishment,
" is it possible thai you can have renewed in England the old
heresy of Nestorius 7 do you then distinguish two persons in
Jesus Christ ; the one human, the other divine 7"
"We pay no attention to your metaphysical distinctions of
persons," said the Bishop ; " we find nothing of that in Scripture ;
we know Jesus Christ as God and as man."
" I arn astonished," replied the Prelate, " that a divine should
speak so vague!}'. We are agreed that th.^re are two distinct
natures, divine and human, in Jesus Christ ; but the question is,
whether there be two persons or one oly Person ; and on the
solution of that question the very existe. :e of Christianity de-
pends; if Christ has a human person, av 'ou seem to suppose,
why, then, it was a human person only v\no suffered. What,
then, becomes of the infinite merits of his atonement 7"
" Pooh !" said the Bishop, " the Scripture nowhere makes
these scholastic distinctions."
" I beg your pardon, my Lord ; the Scripture everywhere
represents to us Jesus Christ as one and the same individual
person: atone time styling him 'the Son of the living God.'
and the same ' the Son of Mary.' Now, that individual, who is
undoubtedly God. was born of the Blessed Virgin, and, conse-
quently, she is truly and properly called the Mother of God."
"Such distinctions only serve to confound the ideas of simple
Christians," said the Bishop.
/2 FATHER OSWALD.
" I can see no confusion in the matter," interposed Sefton,
"except what seems to exist in your lordship's own ideas. "
" I certainly am extremely surprised at what his lordship has
expressed," said Monsignore Guidi ; for I had imagined that
!he Protestant divines of the established Church of England
vere better informed."
"Allow me," said Sefton, "torecal your lordship's attention
to some of the early Christian -writers for proofs of the antiquity
of service, devotion, and respect paid to the Mother of God."
"Yes," said Monsignore Guidi; "it is precisely this high
dignity of Mother of God that raises Mary far above all other
creatures; others may have been called ' blessed among women,
but to no other \yas it ever said by otie filled with the Holy
Ghost, ' blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the irui
of thy womb; and whence is this to me that th.'- mot/it r nf w/
Lrd should come to rne !'* Yes, Mother of God is a title justly
due to Mary, and as such all the plenitude of grace and glory
that can be conferred on. a pure creature is conferred on her;
less than thai would be unbecoming her exalted dignity, end
reflect dishonour on her divine Son. I am astonished that Pro-
testants, who try to debase the Mother, cannot sec ihat thereby
they debase the Son."
"Because," interrupted the Bishop vehemently, "Protestants
know that Catholics rob the Son of the proper devotion due to
him, to give it to his Mother."
"Excuse me, mv dear Sir," said Monsignore Guidi, "the
Catholic Church, in all ages, has enhanced the praise and glory
of Mary, knowing that thereby she magnified and extolled the
more the praise and glory of her Son, from whom she has re-
ceived every thing; hence has been verified her own prophecy.
1 Behold, from henceforth, all generations shall call rne blessed '
Protestant, generations have no part in this prophecy."
The Bishop bit his lip, but said nothing.
" It is my full belief," said Mrs. Boren, "that all intermediate
intercessors between us and the Son of God, is a doctrine utterly
opposite to the Bible."
"My dear Madam," said the Prelate, "allow me to observe,
that a single text of Scripture cannot be brought, which forbids
intermediate intercession between us and the Son of God ; but
there are many which command it ; as often as we are exhorted
to pray for one another; and there is even in Scripture, an in-
stance of departed souls praying for their brethren t But, were
there nothing in Scripture to recommend a devotion so rational
anc! so consoling, the constant practice of the universal Church
is a recommendation abundantly sufficient."
* Luke i. 42. t 2 Mace. xv. 11.
FATHER OSWALD.
227
" My dear Monsignore Guidi," replied Mrs. Boren impatiently,
" it is "an absurdity to say, that the Scriptures upon which the
Romish Church rests her'clairas as a Church, are in the hands
of her enemies, while she finds it necessary to her very exist-
ence to prevent her people reading these Scriptures."
" My dear lady," said Sel'ton, "this is very like shuffling out
of the question, and no answer whatever to what Monsignore
Guidi stated."
- All 1 can say," observed Monsignore Guidi, "is, that it is
to the Catholic Church that her enemies are indebted I'or the
Scriptures; and what is more, these said enemies have no other
proof that tru Scriptures are genuine, authentic, and inspired
by the Holy Ghost, but the authority and tradition of the Cath-
olic Church, while she never lelt such a necessity for the main-
tenance of her existence: no, the security of the Catholic Church
rests upon a better foundation, namely, on the promises of
Christ."
At that moment, Mr. Sefton's carriage was announced, and
he and Monsignore Guidi wished the party good-night, with
that very unsatisfactory feeling which will occur, when on*
party is "doubting, and the other certain.
CHAPTER XXIX.
" Bv various text we both uphold our claim,
Nay, often ground our titles on Ilie same ,
After Ion;; labour lost and time's expense.
Both -.'rant the words, and quarrel for the sense:
Thus all disputes for ever must depend.
For no dumb rule can controversies end."
DRYDEN.
" D:D you ever read a little book called ' The Nun V sairt
Sefton, one day. to Father Oswald, as he was sitting in the li-
brary of the Gesu.
" Yes, I have," replied Father Oswald, smiling.
" Well, what do you think of it V
"Think of it, my dear Mr. Sel'ton, there can be but one opi-
nion by those who know the spirit and practice of the Catholic
religion ' The Nun' is a specimen of the most bare-faced
falsehood, that was ever presented to the enlightened English
nation."
* And yet," said Sefton, " it has run through four editions."
22O FATIIKR OSWALD.
" Only another proof of the gullibility of John Bali," ujid
Father Oswald quietly
" I have just been reading another in the same style, entitled,
'The Catholic Chapel.' "
" I have seen that also," replied Father Oswald ; " it is a tame
specimen of ignorant falsehoods and mis-statement*; the dark-
ness of the author is so dense, that he cannot see the truth ; he
has distorted and misrepresented every Catholic dogma which
he has touched upon, and thinks, or at least would have his
readers think, that he has faithfully given the doctrine of Bos-
suet and the Council of Trent. It is not, however, so violent
as ' The Nun,' which is a downright insult to the common sense
of mankind."
"But is it not true, Sir," inquired Sefton hesitatingly, "that
Ihe Bible is kept out of sight of all Catholics, but the Clergy?"
" My dear friend, it is a gross calumny ; the Catholic Church
permits all her children to read the Bible in approved versions,
with explanatory notes, that they may not be tossed about by
every wind of doctrine, and make shipwreck of their faith,
for she knows well that in the Scriptures there are certain
things hard to be understood, 'which the unlearned and unstar
bie wrest to their own destruction.'* Now, unquestionably,
ninety-nine Bible readers in one hundred are either unlearned
or unstable."
""Well, Sir." answered Sefton, :t I always had a notion that
the Scripture was forbidden to the laity, and, consequently,
I thought that Church must be in error which shuts up the Word
of God from the people."
" The Church does not shut up the Word of God from the
people," said Father Oswald dryly, " only she has an old-fash-
ioned way of her own in announcing it to them, which she is
not likely-to quit, in order to please the itching ears of Bibli-
cals; she is mindful of, and carefully inculcates on her minis-
ters, the Apostolical- charge given to Timothy, 'Preach the
Word, be instant in season out of season, reprove, entreat,
rebuke in all patience and doctrine. For there shall be a time
when they will not endure sound doctrine, but, accirrdinff to ('heir
own desires, they will heap to themselves teachers, having itch-
ing ears, and will indeed turn away their hearing from the truth,
but will be turned unto/nWcs,'t Alas! is not that fearful time
come V
"You must excuse me, Father Oswald, if I speak plainly;
but it certainly appears to Protestants, that the Catholic clergy
subject themselves to strong suspicions when they refuse their
* 2 Peter iii. 16 t 2 Tim. iv. 2, 3, 4.
FATHF.R OSWALD. 2U9
people the right of judging of their pretensions by the Scrip-
tures; Protestants desire to be judired by no other rule."
" Your own good sense, my dear Sir," replied the Father,
"must tell you that the unlettered multitude are incapable of
judging rightly by such a rule; neither c;>n the learned of your
various sects decide any one dispute by the same rule. Allow
me to add, that Protestants, whatever they may pretend, never
submit to their own rule when a Catholic divine product* *he
most explicit texts against them. These interminable disputes
only prove the necessity of another rule, and that an infallible
one. to determine the right sense of Scripture."
" But." snid Setton, " the rulers of the Church of Rome do
not believe in its infallibility; the common people only believe
this; again, the clergy differ whether infallibility resides in the
Pope alone, or in the Pope with general council*, or in councils
approved by the Pope.
" The Catholic Church, that is the Pastors of the Catholic
Church," replied Father Oswald, "are constituted by divine au-
thority to expound the Bible to the people, and to judge what is
true or false, and what is right or wrong; therefore they can
never submit to the people, who have no authority to judge, but
are commanded to 'obey their prelates and be subject to them ;'*
and the real fact is, that even amongst yourselves, the great
mass of every sect must form their opinions from the expositions
of their favourite preacher, while imagining they draw them
from the Scripture."
" But they may dissent if they choose from any such opinion,
and there is the glorious prerogative of the Reformation."
" So much the worse for them," said Father Oswald, " for
the Redeemer himself commands the people ' to hear the Church,'
on pain of being considered 'as the heathen and publican ; : t
that is the Catholic Church; for he certainly did not refer to
the Protestant Church, and its swarming brood of dissenters,
who allow every man to follow his own idle and heated fancies."
Seflon looked perplexed.
" Again," continued the Father, " our Saviour says, ' He that
heareth you, heareth me; and he that despise'h you, despiseth
me; and he that despiseth me despiseth Him that sent me.'; Now.
the Bishops of the Catholic Church cannot submit to be judged
by every upstart crazy Biblical ; it is in vain for the Protestant
to appeal for judgment to the Bible; rJie Bible is dumb, and has
never yet pronounced judgment in ;r.y causs where the con-
demned party assumes the right of interpreting the sentence in
nis own favour, that is, of appealing from the clearest texts o
* Ileb. xiii. 17 t Matt, \vjjj. IT j l.uke x. 16
20*
1330 FATHEH OSWAIA.
the Divine Word to his own private judgment. Now, observe,
Mr. Sel'ton, the Protestant protests against all the authorities
constituted by Christ in his Church, to bring all ' into the unity
of faith,' arid sets up a supreme and infallible tribunal in his
own pride, from which there is no appeal. Amongst the thou-
sand and one sects, into which Protestantism has been splintered,
I never read of the union of any two sects brought about by
Bible reading: but I have read of many new schisms in each
sect produced by the same cause. When you have settled your
own disputes and shown us a model of the ' unity of faith,' it
will be time enough then to invite us to follow your splendid
example: till then, we shall march on in the old track of our
forefathers."*
" But." interrupted Sefton, " where does your infallibility ex-
ist 1 answer me that question, if you please."
"When people speak of the doctrine of the Catholic Church,
they should first make themselves acquainted with it. Every
Catholic, lay or clerical, believes in the infallibility of the
Church ; it is an article of divine faith, and he who doubts of it
would cease to be a Catholic. All Catholics believe that when
the great body of the Bishops, either congregated in general
council or dispersed through the whole world, agree with their
head in any thing appertaining to faith and morals, that that
agreement is an infallible rule of truth. Of this there neither
is nor can be any dispute, lor on the rock Peter, principally,
Christ promised to found the stability and indelectibility of His
Church. Then to Peter, and to the rest of the Apostles, as a
body subordinate to its head. He promised to send ' the Spirit of
truth to be with them for ever, to teach them all things, and
bring all things to their mind whatsoever He had said to them ;'
in a word, 'to teach them all. Irulli.'i Finally, when He gave
them his last commission to ' teach all nations,' He pledged his
Divine Word that He would be with them when teaching 'all
dai/s, even unto the consummation of the world.' These are the
title-deeds of the Church for her claims to infallibility ; and all
the powers of Hell and Protestantism combined shall never
wrest them from her. You will observe, my dear Sir, that we
ground the infallibility of the Church teaching, not on the falli-
ble opinions of weak men, but on the infallible promises of Christ,
and the unerring guidance of the Holy Ghost."
'' I see." replied Sefton, "and I feel the full force ot your ar-
* On this interesting subject, the reader should peruse an cxcuHen'
little work, The liible Question Fairly Tested, lately published by Casseily
and Sons, N. Y.
t John xiv. 10, 20 . xvi. 13.
FATHER OSWALD. 231
gument. The text? are certainly very clear, and it there beany
meaning in them, the promises must still subsis' somewhere in
liie Church : may we not suppose that these promises were made
to all the faithful generally who search the Scriptures, with sim-
plicity of heart and with a sincere desire of finding out the
troth 1"
l; Whoever has a simple heart and a sincere desire of find-
ing out and knowing the truth, will seek lor it through thosu
means only which God has appointed; and the smallest reflec-
tion will convince him, that these promises of Christ were made
to the Apostles only as the future teachers of his doctrine to all
nations; and as the promises were to endure 'all days, even
unto the consummation of the world,' it follows, that the promi-
ses still remain with the legitimate successors of the Apostles.
If the promises were made to all the faithful generally, how
happens it that amongst Protestants no two can be found to
agree 1 Is it that the Holy Ghost teaches contradictory doctrines
to each individual 1 or can no two individuals be found who
search the Scriptures with simplicity and sincerity 1"
"The dilemma is lather puzzling," said SeUon, somewhat
nettled ; " but you also hold, I believe, that the Pope is infallible.
Now, that is a very shocking doctrine, when we consider hoar
many Popes have been profligate, wicked men."
" Not many," replied Father Oswald mildly, " when you come
to read their genuine history. A few, indeed, in a long series
of holy and learned men, have been a disgrace to their high
station. But do not, like most Protestants, confound impecca-
bility with infallibility. No Catholic attributes the former to any
Pope. You should remember also that Balaam was a wicked
Prophet, yet God forced him to prophecy the truth ; and Cai-
phas was no saint, yet in virtue of his office he prophecied the
iruth also. Infallibility is a pledge given for the whole Church,
and is totally independent of the merits or demerits of anv in-
dividual."
" I see." said Refton ; " but do you really hold that every in-
dividual Pope is infallible V
" That is another question." said Father Oswald, " which not
being a defined anicle of faith, is freely agitated in Cathc.ic
schools ; it is this : whether a dogmatical decision of the Pcpo,
speaking authoritatively to the whole Church, or ex Cathedra,
as it is expressed, be infallible or not before it has been accepted
by the great body of the Pastors. The greatest number and
the most learned of divines hold the affirmative, and those who
question it, freely grant, that in fact there never was a dogmati-
cal decree issued by a Pope which, sooner or .later, was not
2 : 2 FATHER OSWALD.
agreed to by all the other Bishops. So that the dispute is re-
dueed to a question more about the possibility of a thing than
about its reality that is to say, whether it be possible for the
great bodv of Bishops to dissen f from a dogmatical decision of
their head for a considerable space of time ; and the most sensi-
ble answer to the question is, that the thing is impossible as lonj,
as the promises of Christ shall stand."
" That is the best explanation on this subject I have yet
Heard," said Sei'ton musingly; " but to return to the Scriptures;
you must, I think, acknowledge wilh me. Sir, that they ;ire not
addressed to the learned only, or else a very large number of
Catholic Priests ought not to read them : lor many well-educa-
ted laics are far better informed than they are."
" Undoubtedly," replied Father Oswald ; " the Scriptures were
never addressed to 'the unlearned and unstable, who wrest them
.to their own destruction,' and, therefore, the Biblemen, who
thrust the Bible intliscriii*ai*t$ into the hands of all, powerfully
help forward the devil's work in hurrying souls to perdition.
Your insinuations about the ignorance of the Catholic clergy
is too ridiculous to spend words over it : some, indeed, may be
found little versed in the mechanical and chemical sciences of
the day; but they are all well instructed in the science of the
Saints and in the Bible: for the fact is, the Catholic clergy,
learned or unlearned, read more of Holy Scripture daily, and
know its genuine meaning better than the most learned Bible-
mongers. They know that ' all Scripture inspired of God is
profitable to (each, In reprove, to cmrert. l.n inx'-ruc'. in justice.'*
Now, as these are the special duties of their vocation, they have
known them like Timothy from their infancy; but they know,
also, that the Scriptures can only ' instruct to salvation by Uie
fa'tk which is in Christ Jesus.' They first acquire this faith
from the only source from which it can be drawn ; and then
they read the Bible and understand it. The Biblicals on the
contrary, open their Bible rtiit/ioutfailA, for they open it to learn
what, they are to b'./.ievc ; and hence they stumble on ' questions,
rather than the edification of God, which, in in faith.' "
" That is a very striking observation, which I do not reccllect
to hare heard before," said Sefton.
" It is, however, quite true," continued the Father, " and, there-
fore, it is no wonder that, ' going astray, they are turned aside
unto vain babbling; desiring to be teachers of the law, under-
standing neither the things they say, nor whereof they affirm.'*
Yes, yes ; be assured, my esteemed friend, that Catholics, men,
women, and children, understand more of the genuine spirit of
* 2 Tim iii. 16. t 1 Tim. i. 4
FATHER OSWALD. 233
the Bible than all your fanatic Biblicals together. Listen to the
household words which a French writer puts into the mouth ol
a child speaking to its mother:
Oh ! montre nous ta Bible, et les belles imases,
Le cicl d'or, les saints bleus, les saintes a seiiout,
l.'enfant Jesus, la creche, et le bcnuf, et les Hinges,
Fais-nous lire dn doit dans le milieu des pages
Uri peu de ce Latin qui parle a Uieu de nous.'"
Sefton looked a little foolish; hut rallying his Protestant
spirit of opposition a'nd cavilling, "Well, then, Father Oswald,"
said he, "since you even brag of Catholics beini: acquainted
with their Bible, what objection can you have to the poor Bibli-
cal reading his ?"
" One reason, and that a verv serious one ; and I have already
stated it." replied Father Oswald: "namely, that the Biblica?
studies his Bible \ofiwl mil. his failh in it, and to interpret it ac-
cording to his own arbitrary fancy: the Catholic studies his
Bible to confirm his faith and morality ; he studies it only in ap-
proved editions, and with authorized notes and explanations;
and he has not, neither doss he wish to have, the pernicious
and false liberty of interpreting it according to his private judg-
ment."
"Well, but, Sir," persisted Sefton, "if the Protestant trans-
lation of the Bible is correct, which, I suppose it to be, I canno\
see the objection to its universal perusal."
" For the reasons I have already several times stated," said
Father Oswald patiently, " we are not ordered to ' hear the
Bible, but to hear the Church ;' moreover, it is a notorious fact,
that many Protestants complain loudly of the inaccuracy of
their own translation. Catholic divines point out many passa-
ges that are f,ils ///translated, and many more that are so insidi-
inishj rendered, as to lead many astray."
Sei'ton was silent for a tew minutes, and then said. i! 1 believe
you always spe=ik the truth at least, what you think lo be the
truth, Father Oswald, without the fear of any man ; now, tell
me candidly, do you not think that faith in the Church of (.'A rift
in opposition to the Church of linmr. sufrk-ient for salvation T'
" Really, Sir," said Father Osw:>l I. " I do not well under-
stand \ou ; you take it for gninlel. that the Church of Christ is
i;i opposition to the Church of Rome. That is what we denv ;
d;e question is. which among the manv Christian sects, is the
true Church of Christ ? consequently, if the Church of Horn?
happens :o be the Church of Christ, faith in ;my other church,
which you may faccy to be the Church of Christ, will avail you
little." '
231 FATHKR OSWALD.
At i'lis moment a lay brother knocked at the door, and sura-
moiied the Father to some urgent business. Selton took his
leave, and shaking him warmly by the hand, " I tear," said he.
" I have had rather the worst of it this time ; but, for all that, 1
shall come, and try again another day,."
'Bravo!" said Father Oswald as they walked down stairs
ogether: "you remember the old proverb, ' Truth lies at the
bottom of a well.' and you must dive deep to find it. But leC
me recommend to your most serious attention the important text
of Scripture, which says, ' Ask, and it shall be given you ; seek,
and you shall find; knock, and it shall be opened to you.'*
Earnest prayer to the Father of Lights, with a pure mind, a
simple and docile heart, will not fail to obtain the first of God's
graces the knowlege of the truth."
CHAPTER XXX.
" lie hath a tear for pity, and a hand
Open as day for melting charity ;
Yet notwithstanding, being incensed, he's flint." SHAKSPEAKB
ONE morning, as Sefton and the Captain mounted their horses
at Serny's door, to take a ride into the country, they were ac-
costed by a poor Capuchin, who had an empty bucket on his
arm, with the usual salutation, 'Benedicite.' He then asked
some small alms for his convent, ' (or St. Francis' sake, and for
sweet Charity.' Sefton roughly refused him, taunting him al
the same time with his poverty and idleness; and then, as he
vaulted into his saddle, turned to Luigi, saying, "Who is this
idle vagrant 1 Tell him to get out of the way."
" Bless you, Sir!" said Luigi, in an apologetic tone, " it is only
poor Father Guiseppe, a most holy man; everybody knows
Father Giuseppe ; he is ever doing good to the poor and afflicted,
and brings comfort and consolation to them on the bed of sick-
ness. Shall I give him an alms, Sir"?"
" By no means," answered Selton ; " I'll have no hand in
cncourag ng hypocrisy, under the cloak of religion. Move
off, fellow, and learn to earn your bread by honest labour ; such
idle varlets should not be tolerated." So saying, he set off on
his ride, little -eflecting on the pain he had without justice 01
reason, inflicted c.ii a fellow-creature.
* Matt. -:i 7
FAYHER OSWALD. 5J3i
Tbe poor friar raised up his manly countenance, darted a
glance of indignation from his kindling eye, and muttered with
a trembling lip, ' : The time was, when I could ill have brooked
such a gratuitous insult ; but" He checked himself, made a
humble obeisance, and retired, while a deep blush covered his
fine ieatures, at the consciousness that the 'old man' was not
yet dead within him. Sefton had marked the indignation i-f the
first emotion, and the subsequent humiliation, which he did not
fail to attribute to a conscious feeling of having met with a wdl-
deserved reproof. Luigi lagged behind, and, unobserved, dropt
H pittance from his own pocket into the basket of the friar.
" How the government can encourage such a set of idle drones
and vagabonds, I canr.ot make out," added the Captain, as ho
joined his companion.
Father Guiseppe, in the meantime, treasured in Heaven the
humiliation he had received; yet wondering in his own heart,
that the handsome, generous-looking Englishman, who was
known to give alms so abundantly, should have treated him so
roughly. Father Guiseppe was a stout, fine-looking man. about
sixty, with a beard as white as snow; he was of noble birth,
had moved in the highest ranksof society, and had distinguished
himself by deeds of valour in the field of battle. But reflecting
on the vanities of all worldly honours, he had retired in the
prime of life to the cloister, in order to gain a higher and a
never-fading crown of glory. He was, as Luigi had expressed
it, truly a good man ; his life was hidden with God in Jesus
Christ ; but what was visible of it to the eyes of the world, was
marked by daily deeds of mercy and humanity to his fellow-
creatures. As he returned to his convent, musing nn what had
passed, he breathed an ' Ave Maria' for the conversion of him
who had so unthinkingly and unfeelingly wounded his feel-
ings: yes. his feelings! for many a warm heart, and many a
delicate mind, exist under the rough habit of St. Francis, con-
temned, unheeded, and unknown by the gay and thoughtless vo-
taries of a vain and empty world.
Sefton and the Captain cantered out into the country, around
Monte Mario, where they had appointed to join the Bishop and
his party, with Monsignoie Guidi, for a cold luncheon, at two
o'clock. All the party met at the appointed place, and spent the
afternoon in rambling about that inieresting part of the environs
of Rome. As sunset drew near, they seated themselves on a
favourable elevation, to view the rich glories of the setting lu-
minary over the metropolis of the Christian World; they ai'
gazed at the glorious spectacle in silence, -which was only inter-
rupted by Mrs. Boren, in a half sighing, half-murmuring voice
M36 FATHER OSWALD.
xclaiming, " What a thousand and a thousand pities it is, tha
this unrivalled Rome should be the sejt of such corruption ;
and that the Romish should be the most, corrupt of the churches
pro'essing Christianity."
The Bishop groaned his assent, and Monsignore Guidi looked
up with an air of surprise. " Easily, though not very charita-
bly said," exclaimed he ; " however, I can pity ignorance, and
Christian charity teaches us to bear patiently with prejudice,
while there is hope to enlighten the one. or remove the other;
but what, I pray, can be your reason, Madam, for these bolt!
assertions 1"
Mrs. Boron coloured, and stammered, and hesitated, and at
length lisped out, " I say, that the Romish Church is the mast
corrupt of' all the Christian churches; mark, I do not deny that
there may not be found some good Christians even in the Ro-
mish Chuch ; but you know that Christ addressed Seven
Churches in Asia, yet addressed all as if there were true Chris-
tians in e^ch. though thev had all fallen into corruption; such
i-s the present state of the Christian churches of our Jays."
Monsignore Guidi smiled. ' My dear lady," said he, "I car.
see nothing but deplorable misconception, if not unseemly abus<:
in what you have been saying; I can find no argument to grap-
ple with ; I can only see a false supposition, as if there were
wan;/ Christian churches. Christ founded but nnc Church ; the
only question is which is that one. The different dioceses in
which the one universal Church is divided, may be called
churches in a restricted sense, because they are portions ol
Christ's one flock, congregated together under the imtncdia'.e
guidance of their own Bishop, but they all profess the one faith
and doctiine of Christ, and are all united to the Chief Shepherd,
the Vicar of Christ on earth. Such were the Seven Churches
of Asia; they all professed the same faith, though some rotten
sheep were found amonst them."
"No, no," interrupted Mrs. Boren ; "Christ addressed the
Seven Churches as seven distinct, independent churches, each
standing on its cwa foundation, and governed by its own angel,
or bishop."
"Then," said Monsignore Guidi, "you must have many in
dependent churches in England, and i/mir kv.iband, Madam, is
an angel, I suppose, wedded lo one of them."
Sefton and the Captain were convulsed with laughter; Mrs,
Boren blushed, and the Bishop looked awkward.
"Oh! but," said Mrs. Boren, with more animation than she
usually exhibited, " you will never persuade me that the Popish
Church is not lull of corruptions. The Word of God is not the
TATHER OSWALD. 237
guide of that church, because that church teaches thai the end
sanctifies the means, and that it is justifiable to murder thousands
on thousands, to suppress what she calls heresy."
"Adagio, adagio, cried Monsignore Guidi ; "for the s.T^eof
truth, stop, and let not your zeal outstrip all prudence. The
Church teaches no such impiety; but it would seem that Bihli-
cals are not very scrupulous about means, wten they have re-
course to such gross misstatemcnts. in order to attain their san-
ctified end of deluding the ignorant, and of alienating them more
and more from their ancient Mother. The Church \sndtg-niilei
by the Word of God in the sense of Biblicals. that is. by the
dead letter of the book, interpreted according to the wild fancy
of each individual; the Church is guided by the unerring Spirit
of truth; she has received the promise of the Spirit 'to shide
with her for ever,' and ' to teach her nil truth ;* to her is com-
mitted the Word of Go.l, written or unwritten, the whole deposit
of ' faith once delivered to the saints,' and she faithfully keepj
that faiih uncorrupt and incorruptible. It is her office to inter-
pret and expound the Word of God, and guide her children to
the right understanding of it."
" You had better take care what you say. Mamma,' 1 said the
Captain, laughing rather maliciously, "or you ma}' get into the
Inquisition."
'The Inquisition !" exclaimed Mrs. Baren ; "for Heaven's
sake, Frederick, don't talk o!' that merciless tribunal."
" The Inquisition !' ! said Miss Lavinia " frightful monster!
Gracious! brother! one's blood runs cold at its very name."
" Come ! come !" said the Prelate, " do not let us shrink from
a mere name: what is its meaning""
" Its meaning !" creamed the Bishop and his lady, and the
( 'aptain and his sister, all in a breath ; ' : its meaning ! whv, is it
not the very sink of all that is horrible, and cruel, and bigoted,
nnd tyrannical!"
"Order! order!" said Sefton in a deprecating tone; "fair
play is a jewel, and we must allow Monsi^noie Guidi to an-
s'.ver one person at a time, and one accusation after another;"
and then, after a pause, he added, "Will you tell us now, my
good Sir, what is the real meaning of the Inquisition V
" It means," said Monsignore Guidi, bowing to Sefton,
' neither more nor less than a court of inquiry ! Its oflict; is to
watch over the integrity of faith and morals. Its mode o: pro-
ceeding is the most merciful and the most lenient. It can take
10 cognizance of a man's interior thoughts and .-entimem:;, tuey
arc removed far bevond the reach of any human tribunal they
* John MV. 1C xvi 13
ill
238 PATHEII OS\VALJ>.
rest between man and God. Hence, if a man, in the pride oi
his own heart, chooses to dissent i'rom the faith of the Church,
he is perleclly free to do so, and he will answer to God alone for
his interior heresy or impiety. The Inquisition, then, takes
cognizance only of overt acts. In this inquiry it proceeds with
the greatest caution, prudence, and lenity. Suppose a man rises
up to pi each a new doctrine, ' another Gospel,' to disturb the
people in the possession of their ancient faith, or to scandalize
their piely by some gross immorality and, by the way, delin-
queni'3 oi this species are far more common than those who im-
pugn the lakh well, the faithful ' note that man, and do not
Keep company with him; they. admonish him as a brother,'*
and if he will riot hear them, they tell 'the Church, 't and de-
nounce him to the tribunal of the Inquisition."
" Yes," exclaimed the Captain indignantly ; " then the hypo-
critical tyrants let their hell-hounds loose, to rush on their prey!"
" Not so fast, Captain, nor so fierce," said the Prelate calmly;
" the sjcred office never proceeds upon one information, as civil
tribunals generally do. They must have two, three, or four un-
exceptionable witnesses, be.bre they move a step. When they
have these, they call the delinquent, and admonish him of his
error; if he acknowledge his fault, and promise amendment, he
is dismissed with a trifling penance, probably not exceeding the
recital of the Seven Penitential Psalms, if, after ' a first and
second admonition,' he remains obstinate in his error, he is then
considered a heretic, to be avoided, being subverted and con-
demned by his own judgment,'; that is, by his own obstinacy
in judgment, contrary to the doctrine of Christ. He is now im-
prisoned as adangerous man, 'a lying teacher,' who endeavours
'to bring in sects of perdition ;' and lead the ignorant and un-
wary into the ways of destruction."
"Aye, poor devil !" said the Captain ; " once get him safe in
prison, and his fate will be hard enough, I warrant. Such
.stories as I have heard of it, would make your very hair stand
on end."
" Nevertheless," continued Monsignore Guidi, " I can assure
you as a fact, that his prison is not one of racks and torments,
as you fondly imagine, but one far more lenient and comfortable
than that, to which is consigned the poor poacher, or the desti-
tute vagrant, in Protestant England."
" Have you. ever been in England, Sir 1" said the Bishop
haughtily.
"Yes, my Lord," replied the Prelate, "and I have explorec
many of its prisons and public establishments also."
* 2 Thes. iii. 14. t Matt, xviii. 17.
t Tit. iii. 10 42 Peter ii. 1
I'ATUKn OSWALD. '239
" Weii, but what do they do with our imaginary delinquent
when he is tlius imprisoned V said Selion eagerly.
" He is 'reproved, entreated, rebuked, and lhat in all patience
and doctrine;'* but it' he still remain obstinate, if 'he cari.'iut
endure sound doctrine,' the tribunal then proceeds to its extreme
sentence of excommunication; it pronounces its anathema, and
'delivers him up to Satan, that he may learn not to blaspheme.'t
Here the Inquisition closes its proceedings, and delivers the
culprit into the hands of the secular power, who do with him
according to the criminal laws of the kingdom: with which the
Church has nothing to do."
"What bigoted laws must those be," said the Bishop pom- .
potislv, "to make a man answerable for his freedom of opinion."
" I cannot help being surprised, Sir," said the Prelate, "that
you, who call yourself a Bishop of the Church of England, as
*>i/ In in established, should advance such a proposition."
" How so V
" Because I did not conceive, that a man of judgment coula
persuade himself that God had given to man any freedom of
'.pinion in matters of faith : that is, the liberty to receive or to
reject, at his own caprice, whatever God has vouchsafed to re-
veal to mankind."
" Humph !" said the Bishop. " What has that to do with the
persecuting laws of man 1"
(i I do not mean," said Monsignore Guidi with a serious air,
" to defend the system of civil persecution ; yet I conceive it
very possible lor a Christian prince to deem it his duty to [ire-
serve his people from the poison of the heretic, as well as irom
the poniard of the assassin. Heresy and murder are eqiu.ily
ranked by St. Paul amongst those crimes, which 'exclude from
the kingdom of God.' ":
" I see clearly," said the Bishop, " that you are an advocate
for persecution."
"Not so, my Lord; I merely hint at motives, which if they
do not justify, may extenuate in great part the severity of the
civil law. You will allow, I think, lhat every citizen is obliged
to observe the law of the state under which he lives, and is pre-
lected, so long as the law is not contrary to the law of God."
"Undoubtedly," replied the Bishop. "I shall ever stand up
lor the inviolable sanctity of the law, without which neither our
lives nor property would be secure."
'' Well, then," continued the Prelate, "a law prohibiting the
dissemination of schism and heresy amongst a |:eop|p in pos-
session of the 'faith once delivered to the saints' can never be
2 Tim. iv. 2. t 1 Tim. i. 20. ; Gai. v. 20.
240 FATHER OSWALD.
deemed contrary to the law of God; and if such (*.;=..< <r.nr.t;on
is known to produce dissensions, strife, rapine-, a.iu o'.ojdsheu,
amongst a people once united, the state is uflJjjU'.d.y ju.-;ti
lied in enacting such a law. under such penalties ES may bf
judged necessary to arrest the evil. Every stale in Europe has
enacted such laws, under penalties of a greater or less degree 01
severity."
" On these principles." subjoined the Bishop, "yon justify the
penal laws of the British legislature, which lays certain disa-
bilities on the Papists and Dissenters, and deprives them ol
some privileges."
"Pardon me, Sir," replied the Prelate, "the case is quite
different: the British legislature began by establishing i.hn risht
of each individual to frame hi* own creed, and then very incon-
sistently and tyrannically chastises him with pains and penal-
ties, if lie dare to profess a ereed different from that by law es-
tablished. No Catholicstate admits, or can admit, Ibfa pretended
right. They know that every man is obliged to sutmit his
judgment to the revealed truth of God ; and they know that God
has established an infallible tribunal, to decide what that truth
is. You Protestants reject infallibility, and therefore have no
olea to control the judgment of any man."
"But," said Sefton, "the laws in the ecclesiastical courts of
England against blasphemy, and similar crimes, are not so very
dissimilar: .and as for persecution, England itself, even Pro-
testant England, must blush for one of the blackest codes of
persecution that ever disgraced a Christian people. Whilst we
boasted of liberty of conscience, and the right of each individual
to judge for himself in matters of religion, we hung, drew, and
quartered the bodies of Catholics, and confiscated their property,
if thev dared to assert the same liberty. If your statement be
true. Monsignore Guidi. it alters the case very much, and the
aspect of the Inquisition is extremely different in my mind to
what I had previously imagined."
' Perfectly true, my dear Sefton, I assure you ; ask any well-
informed Catholics you choose, and they will tell you the same
thing, and confirm all I have said to you."
"And I tear," said the Bishop disdainfully, "that, notwith-
standing all you have said, it. will be found that in the Inquisi-
tion, the degree of corruption into which the Church has lallen
is so awfully evident, that there is no resisting the command,
'C>:me out of her, my children, that ye receive not of her plague--.' "
"Really. Sir," replied the Prelate with some spirit, " if po-
liteness did not restrain me, I might fairly and easily r^ort, by
laying that in the whole system of Biblicism, the decree of
PATHFR OSWALD. 241
error, confusion, corruption, and impiety, into which it has fallen,
and led men captive into perdition, is so evident, that it would
be no great wonder if a simple, pious Catholic wished the Bible
Societies and ail their Bibles, might taste a little of the whole-
some corrections of the said Inquisition. We should not then
have so many bewildered heads."
There was a pause : Sef'ton hummed a tune, and the Bishop
looked unutterable things. By this time the sun had set. and
the party returned to Rome, musing on what had passed.
CHAPTER XXXI.
" The world is fa'len into an easier way ,
This age knows belter than to fast and pray.'' DHTDEX.
THE winter advanced, and Sefton felt as most people do who
spend a winterin Rome, thattime seems to glide on tooquickly,
and that the days appear too short for all there is to see. anil
hear, and reflect upon. The merry carnival came in due time,
and Sefton was both amused and edified : arnusea at the lolly
of the multitude, and edified at the piety of many. Mrs. Boren
and her young people made the most of this glorious time of fun
and merriment, and each day S.TW them sedulously goirigthrough
the fatigues of dissipation : on the Corso by day, and at the bi!ils,
theatres, and masquerades by ni?ht. Selion was sometimes in-
luced to join ; bin before Ash-Wednesday he was heartily tired
of it, and rejoiced at the idea of a speedy return to sober sense :
even the Bishop was wearv of hearing of nought else from
morning till night but comfits, horses races, ball-dresses, and
masks and the like. As he and his party sat indulging in the
luxuries of a hot supper, about eleven o'clock on Tuesday nirht,
he exclaimed with the utmost sincerity, "I never was better
pieased in my life than to think all this mummery and nonsens*
are at an end I"
Airs. Boren yawned.
"Well, we have had enou?h of it," answered the Captain;
" it is capital fun though ! I pity those poor devils of Catholics
who have to get up to-morrow morning to fast and pray and re-
.ieve the poor."
" Poor creatures !'' drawled out Miss Lnvinia sympathetically.
"Ye?., their delusion is very gross," said Mrs. Boren, "to
21*
M2 FATIIKK OSWALD.
iraaginc that fasting, and charity to the poor, are meritorious
towards salvation or atonement for sin ; the blood of Christ alone
being sufficient lo merit Heaven: and it is enough for us poor
mortals to believe in Him."
"You have jumbled together so many misconceptions," said
Monsignore Guicli, " that it is dilficult to unravel them. Cath-
olics hold that fait/t. is the groundwork of salvation ' without
faith it, is impossible to please God ;* but faith alone will nol
save a man. 'If thou will, enter into Hie, keep the command-
ments.'t ' Do you see that by works a man is justified, and riot
by laith only 1 For even as a body without the spirit is dead,
so also faith without works is dead.'} 'If I should have all
faith, so that I could remove, mountains, and have not charity,
I am nothing. ' To sum up ali in one word, we must have
' faith that corkcth, by charity. 'll Now of these good works, so
essential to salvation, the pious Catholic thinks he can never
do too many: nay, all that he does appears as nothing to what
he would wish to do; because he knows that his reward in
Heaven will bs proportioned to the extent of his good works."
" How wof'ully disappointed your pious Catholic will be,
Monsignore," said Mrs. Boren, " when he cornes to die, and
finds his hands empty in consequence of the absurd doctrine ot
his Church, thai it is in the power of fallen man himself to
merit favour from God."
" What then do you suppose is meant, Madam, by these
words of Scripture, ' Every man shall receive his own reward
according to his own labour'T.'IT said Monsignore Guidi.
" I was not aware there were such words, Sir," lisped Mrs.
Boren, "but "
" Yes ! yes ! my dear," interposed the Bishop hastily. " there
are such words. I have preached from that text myself, Mrs.
Boren, and I am far from thinking good works are indifferent.
Supposing even, however, for argument's sake, they do no
positive good towards salvation, still they can do no harm;
especially works of charity to the poor."
"I should be of opinion," said Sefton, "that they are posi-
tively meritorious towards salvation, seeing that at the day of
judgment those who do them shall receive their reward, and
those who have neglected them shall be condemned."
"Most certainly," said Monsignore Guidi; "and is it no
also written as plainly as the greatest caviller on earth can re
quire, that 'God wiil render to every man according to hi?
works' ?** Now these good works are eminently three, prayer,
* Heb. ii. 6 + Matt. jcix. 17. t .las. ii. 24. t) 1 Cor. liii 4
I Gl. v. 6 ^ 1 Cur. iii. 8. ** Horn. ii. 6
FATHER OSWALD. 843
fasting, and almsdeeds, so nmch recommended by Christ in his
sermon on the mount;* for each of which he h;is pledged n is
divine word, that 'the Father will repay thee." By prayer we
understand all acts of devotion and piety, towards God ; by
Casting, all mortifications of our members, with their vices and
concupiscences; by almsdeeds, all acts of charity and benevo
lem e towards our neighbours."
"Still I cannot think'," persisted Mrs. Boren, "how these
works performed bv frail man become meritorious, or deserve
reward."
" Certainly not from man himself," said Monsignore Guidi,
"but from the grace of Christ; for it is written, 'Not that we
are sufficient to think any thing of ourselves, as of ourselves,
but our sufficiency is from God.' "t
" Then it conies to what I maintain," said Mrs. Boren trium-
phantly, " that all our merits are from Christ, and we have no-
thing else to do but apply them : all our own efforts are trash !"
" Stay, my good lady," -exclaimed Monsignore Guidi; "thai
is not the truth, by any means, much less is it the faith of Catho-
lics. Our Saviour himself illustrates the whole doctrine in the
most simple and beautiful parable of the vine, where he says.
' I am the true vine,' and farther on adds, ' Abide in me: and 1
in you. As the branch cannot bear fruit of itself, unless it abide
in the vine, so neither can you unless you abide in me. I am
the vine; you the branches; he that abideth in me, and I in
him. the same beareth much fruit ; for without me you can do
nothing. If any one abide not in me, he shall be cast forth as
a branch, and shall wither, and they shall gather him up, and
cast him into the fire, and he burneth.'t Now, according to the
very words of our divine Saviour, if a man be not united to
Him bv faith and sanctifying grace, he is like the witherei!
branch, incapable of bearing fruit, and fit only to be cast into
ihe fire. He may be endowed with a kind heart, he may IK-
actuated by a natural benevolence to succour suffering human-
ity; he may give his substance to the poor and his body to
thetlames; nay, he may move mountains by his faith; but il
he abide not in the love of Christ, in his sanctifying grace. ;.li
his works are dead and they are not entitled to an clerna!
reward."
"Gracious goodness!" interrupted Miss Lnvinia, ' v/ha!
strict doctrine! it is too bad we should have been so long 1 mis-
ted on these matters ; I had no idea Catholics thought in thai
way."
Nevertheless," replied Monsignore Guidi, "this is rsal
Matt. vi. t 2 Cor. iii. 5. ; John xv. 1, 1. C.
244 FATHEl. OSWALD.
orthodox !octrine. Natural good works, flowins: from a kinJ
heart, may indeed move God to mercy, and incline him to confer
the grace of faith and conversion: such for instance was (he
case with Cornelius, the first converted gentile; but the works
i>">- se are not entitled to an eternal reward."
Sefton sighed.
"' On the contrary," added Monsignore Guidi, "the just man
that abiderh in the love of Christ beareth much fruit: the fruit
is his, although it draw al! its value from the merits of Christ:
In this is my Father glorified, that you bring forth very much
fruit: abide in my love ; if you keep my commandments you
shall abide in my love." Thus the origin "of faith, justification,
and of all subsequent merit, is the grace of Christ : and the co-
operation of man with that grace makes the merit his own.
Such is the doctrine of St. Paul, speaking of his own works:
1 By the grace of God, / am what. I am, and his grace in me
hath not been void ; but I have laboured more abundantly than
all they; yet /, 7 : but, ike grace of Grid wtiJi me.' "*
"This is certainly very clear and beautiful doctrine," said
Sefton.
" Yes," continued Monsignort Guidi ; " and this svstem is so
far from depreciating the merits of Christ, that it exalts them
exceedingly, and gives us a more sublime idea of their efficacy,
when we see them thus fructify and increase continually in the
living members of his bo:ly, of which he is tlie head. It is the
dark and horrid doctrine of Calvin and his followers that makes
void the grace of Christ, first by restricting the extension of his
redemption to the elect only, and secondly, by denying its fructi-
fying efficacy in the works of the just man."
"Granting, for argument's sake," said the Bishop. "what
you say to be true, still the Catholic doctrine of the communion
of good works and merits is utterly impious, ana quite contrary
to God's whole method of salvation."
"Why, then," said Monsignore Guidi with energy, "it is
utterly impious to believe 'in the communion of Saints;' whic'i,
V the way, Protestants repeat at leas', once a w!ck in the Apes-
lies' Creed: it is utterly impious then to believe that we arc ;:li
members of the same mystical body; that we can and ought to
assist one another in our spiritual ;:s well as cur cmporal ne-
cessities. My dear good Sir, is it impious in ihe Protestant li>
c>>k the prayers of the man whom he esteems holy 1 But tell
ine, do the Calvinists never pray lor one another 1"
"Certainly thev do." replied the Bishop.
" Then," continued Monsignore Guidi, " bv this practice
* l Cur. xv. 10.
FATHER OSWALD. 245
they acknowledge that they can share with another in the merits
of one species of good works. Ir this they are qni'.e scriptural.
' Pray one for another, that yon may be saved, for the continual
prayer of a jus!, man availcth much.'* Now, Catholics see
nothing repugnant to common sense, to piety, or to Scripture, in
'jclicving that they can share in the merits of other good works
(.!' the just mail, whether they be fasting, or almsdceds, taken in
their mos*. extensive sense."
i; But you cannot prove that from Scripture," said Mrs. Boren
peevishly.
"Yes, Madam, I can," answered the Prelate quietly. "St.
Paul entertained that opinion, when he says of himself, 'Who
now rejoice in my sufferings fur you, and fill up those things
that are wanting of the sufferings of Christ in my flesh for kin
L-odii, which is the Church.'t It there be any transferable merits
in the sufferings of Christ, and I presume no one will be so
utterly impious as to deny that, surely there must be some little
also in the sufferings o!' the Apostle in the flesh, or he never
would have rejoiced in being able to add his mite to these ines-
timable treasures which are dispensed to the members of Christ's
body. The Apostle knew well that if his sufferings were meri-
torious and satisfactory, all his sufficiency came from Christ.''
"My poor head quite aches," said Mrs. Boren, yawning:
" what between the fatigues of the past week, and all this serious
disputing at the end of it, I am quite worn out ; so I shall wish
you all a very good night."
" The discussion was your own seeking, my good lady," said
Monsignore Guidi; "but it is time I was off also," added he,
looking at his watch ; " it is nearly twelve o'clock, and I must
be at ihe Sistine early to-morrow. 1 '
' : What is there to be seen to-morrow morning 1" asked Sefton.
" To-morrow will be Ash- Wednesday, you know, and the
solemn last of Lent is begun by sprinkling ashes on the head--
of the faith!'ul. Tlvj Pope performs this ceremony himself in
his own chapel, and gives ashes to those who present them-
selves."
" I should like to accompany you," said Sefton ; " I was read
ing an account of that ancient piece of Church discipline on!j
the other day."
The p.irt" broke up. and the next morning Sefton accumpa
died Monsignore Guidi to the Sistine, where he was much struck
iiy tc:e exact exemplification of the account he had a lew days
.Before been reading of the immemorial practice of sprinkling
ii^hes on the heads of the faithful previous to their comrnencins
Jas. v. 15 t Col. i. 24.
IM6 FATHER OSWALD.
the solemn fast of forty days, called Lent; a practice to, &,
conformable to the Bible, and which is specified in many places
of the Old Testament as one of the means of averting the
wrath of an angry God. " Did not the men of Nineveh," said
lie to himself, ' do penance for their sins, lasting in sackcloth
and ashes, with the hope that ' God would turn away from hi?
lierce anger;' " ' And God saw th ir miiks, and had mercy with
regard to the evil which he had said he would do to them, and
lie did it not.' " The more Edward reflected, the less he could
sec any good reason why the first founders of Protestantism,
had thought proper to depart from this very ancient Christian
practice. He mentioned these ideas in a private conversaticu
with the Bishop, who only shook his head, and told him laugh-
ingly, that he would find Lent mentioned in his Protestant pray-
er-book, and that nobody would prevent him from either lasting
or sprinkling his head with ashes if he pleased: but that the
founders of the reformed Church were too considerate to Ibrce
either themselves or their followers to such unnecessary penan-
ces, though they made no law forbidding; people to do penance, if
they fancied themselves called to it. Sefon pondered in dis-
content over this vague and unsatisfactory explanation ; and the
more he thought, the more lie was perplexed by the inauv glar-
ing inconsistencies of Protestantism.
CHAPTER XX XII.
' Do not as some ungracious Pastors do,
Show mo the slnep and thorny way to Heaven,
Whilst like a puffed and reckless libertine.
Himself Mie primrose path of dalliance trends,
And recks riot his own creed.'' SHAKSPEAUE.
"HAVE you yet seen the ordinations in St. John Lateran?"
said Monsignore Guidi one day to Mrs. Boren, as the party
were walking up and down the avenue between that church and
St. Croce in Gerusalemme.
" No, Sir," answered the lady, ''and you will excuse me lor
savin? that I have no desire to see them." The Prelate smiled.
"The Roman Catholic priesthood," continued Mrs. Boren, " i&
considered by liberal Protestants as a mere human ir.sti:ii;ion."
"And the fact is," retorted Monsignoie Guidi, " '..Vi Pro"?si-
ants consider or imagine many absurd things, and hiJiidlv lie-
FATHEK OSWALD. 24*
jerc them. The question is, Did Christ institute a ministry in
His Church, or did He notl Did He constitute ' ministers and
dispensers of the mysteries of God V Did He ' give some apos-
tles, and some prophets, and other some evangelists, and other
some pastors and doctors, for the perfecting of the saints, for the
work of the ministry, for the edifying of the body of Christ,
until we all meet into the unity of the faith T Has ' the Holy
Gnost placed bishops over the whole Hock lo rule the Church of
GoJ,' or has He notl What can be the meaning of these words,
Obey your prelates, and be subject to them ; for they watch,
as being to render an account of your souls' ?t Now if there he
any truth in these and many other explicit passages in Holy
Scripture, then undoubtedly there is a ministry in the true Church
.(' Christ, not of human but of divine institution: we shall look
in vuin for it elsewhere/'
!: You do not surely mean to insinuate," exclaimed Mrs. Boren
indignantly, " that you Catholics claim a divine institution in
preference to the reformed Church !''
" Well, will you tell me, Madam," replied the Prelate,
' whence your husband derives his authority to govern a portion
of the flock 1"
" Oh ! he was created by the King, who has supreme author-
ity in the state."
" Or it may be by the U,ueen," rejoined Monsignore Guidi,
with a keen glance towards the Bishop; "in either case you are
perfectly right, if you suppose and consider your ministry as a
mere human institution."
'' I beg your pardon, Monsignore," said the Bishop with pom-
pous gravity ; " perhaps Mrs. Boren has not expressed herself
sc clearly as she wished. She has no intention to assert that
the clergy of the Established Church have no spiritual, or if
von will, no divine authority in virtue of their ordinations; she
objects only to the cruel and tyrannical system of oppression
under which the Romish clergy groan."
" 1 must beg a little farther explanation, my Lord, "said Mon-
signore Guidi quietly, "or I may perchance mistake your
meaning, as much as you say I have done that of your lady."
" I do not mean to be personal, Monsignore," answered the
Bishop; "far from it; for there are many bright exceptions;
amongst others, I think yourself; but, generally speaking, the
system of the Catholic clergy is so iniquitous, that I am lai
from wishing to see more of them ordained."
" I do not understand yet," said Monsignore Guidi with an
feigned surprise ; " how do you mean iniquitous V
* Eph.jx-. 11 t Heb. xiii. V
BiS FATHER OSWALD.
"Merely to mention one point," said the Bishop: "Icon
ceive the celibacy of the clergy to be an iniquitous system ; in
direct contradiction to the Scriptural injunction ' increase anil
multiply.' "
"Really, Sir. you aslonish me!" exclaimed the Prelate;
" but why should I be astonished 1" added lie sorrowfully; " for
hatred to celibacy was the prime motive of the first reformers.
Good God ! what an example of impure profligacy is exhibited
in the lives of every one amongst them ! In violation of the
most solemn vows of chastity, they took to themselves wives;
and Luther, to signalize his own impiety by a double sacrilege,
took to himself a professed Nun."
Sel'ton coloured and looked a little annoyed : but the Bishop,
nothing daunted, said with an air of haughty assurance, " Well,
Sir, thai was the consequence of the false and corrupt system of
trelinacy, laying commandments and rules upon men which it is
impossible for them to keep."
''What is impossible to nature, is possible to grace," said
Monsignore Guidi. " No one will deny that the Apostles were
trail, weak men like ourselves, yet their conduct was very dif-
ferent; they left every thing, even their wives, [those who had
wives.] to follow Christ.* St. Paul, giving directions to Timo-
thy for the careful selection of men fit for the sacred ministry,
positively requires that Bishops and Deacons, and of course
Priests, should be chm,l.<-.$ and consequently the state of celibacy
is the liest adapted to that holy office."
" Catholics may pretend to such perfection," interposed Mrs.
Boren, " but it is unattainable; besides being a most unnatural
system, which denies to the minister of God that relation to any
creature, which the Divine Being has marked out as so honour-
able, by constantly appropriating the character to himself, name-
ly, that of Father."
"Most certainly," added the Bishop; " Mrs. Borcn has no%v
expressed herself admirably."
" Sel'ton smiled, and glanced with rather a significant expres-
sion at the gaily dressed lady, who was leaning on the Bishop's
arm.
" The Caiholic Church forces no one to observe celibacy.''
paid Monsignore Guidi; "but, following the counsel of th
Apostle, as long as she can fitid men able and willing to bind
themselves by vow to that mare perfect state, she will ever se-
lect her ministers from amongst them. The Catholic Church
has ever considered rnatrimonv a.^ a holy and honourable stata,
aiid believes it to have been exalted by Christ 10 the sublime
* Matt, xix 27 2!>. t 1 Tirn. ii. fj
FATHER OSWALD. 249
fffgnity ot a Sacrament; hence, she respects it infinitely more
than Protestants do. Yet she equally holds that celibacy is a
more perfect, a more holy, a more sublime state."
" It is easier to assert than to prove," said Mrs. Boren.
"Not so, my good lady," replied the Prelate mildly; "St.
Paul is so decided on this point, that it is astonishing any Bible
reader should have ever perused the seventh chapter of his first
epistle to the Corinthians, and entertain a doubt upon the sub-
ject. He goes a great deal farther than Protestants can approve,
when he says, ' I would that nil men were even as mysell--!
say to the unmarried and to the widows, it is good for them ii
they so continue even as I.' "
"But what is the use, and end, and object of if?" said the
Bishop -impatiently.
" Many, very many," answered Monsignore quietly. The
Catholic priest considers himself wholly devoted to the service
of God and to the care of souls, who are his dearest children ;
be feels himself bound on all occasions to sacrifice his ease, his
health, his life for them ; and therefore he deems it indtspensa-
D.'e, that he should not be distracted from those sacred duties, by
ihe cares and anxieties of the married state."
'I entirely disagree with you, Sir!" exclaimed the Bishop
warmly; " and for my part, I should prefer presenting any liv-
ing in my gift to a minister who was married, rather than to one
who was unmarried."
" But," interposed Monsignore Guidi, "listen foi one moment
to St. Paul: 'He that is without a wife, is solicitous for the
things that belong to the Lord, how he may please God.' The
Protestant minister prefers the marriage state. 'Tis well ; 'tfo
better so than worse. Then comes ' the tribulation of the flesh ;
(he paintul anxiety to provide for his wife and family, who de-
pend upon the frail tenure of his life for their present and future
subsistence; tithes must be collected rates levied dues ex-
acted the most rigid economy practised every penny spared
nothing for the poor. How true it is, ; He that is with a wife
is solicitous for the things of the world, how he may please his
wife ; and he is divided.' So let him : his state is not aa envi-
able one, to me at least."
" Really this is too much!" exclaimed Mrs. Boren angrily :
'' it is all envy."
Sefton laughed outright. " Remember, my dear Mrs. Borf it,
present company is always excepted," said he: " will you like
to get into the carriage, for you seem a little fatigued. The
lady suffered herself to be led to her carriage, but not before she
had darted another indignant glance at the unconscious
ignore Guidi. 22
250 FATHER OSWALD.
As the carriage with Mrs. Borcn and her party drove off', the
Prelate said to Sefton, li I have been told that your own laws
and customs consider the wives of Bishops and Clergyman in n
very equivocal light ; I have even heard that their children are
:bard!y considered legitimate."
" Certainly," replied Sefton, "our laws and customs are very
.ambiguous on that question, and they must appear odd to for-
eigners; for while a simple knight confers title and precedence
on his lady, a Bishop can confer neither one nor the other on
liis wife : as for the legitimacy of their offspring, we must leave
.that question to be inooted by the lawyers. But when will these
Mdinations you were speaking of take place '!"
" .Next Saturday ; and we will go to St. John's on that day, if
yon please."
:Sei'ton willingly agreed to this arrangement and found him-
*elf. early in the morning of the appointed day, in St. John
.Lateran, one of the most venerable and ancient churches in the
world. He was forcibly struck at the imposing spectacle before
him; the bright rays of the rising sun shone through the edi-
ifece, the choir of which was then filled by a crowd of young as-
pirants for holy orders, from the child of eight years to the young
man of twenty-four. There, amongst them, sat the Cardinal
Vicar of Rome, eminent alike for his piety and learning, ready
to ordain those who presented themselves, and evidently absorbed
by the importance of the duty in which he was engaged. As
.Sefton gassed '<an the scene, it brought to his mind, as in a picture,
all he had ever read in Church history of the ordinations in the
time of St. Augustine, and in the records he had perused of still
earlier periods of Christianity. '' In those days, it was Catho-
lics," thought he, " that were ordained; Catholics, too, who ac-
knowledged the supremacy of the Pope ; and this, too, is an
ordination of Catholic ministers which I seo now before my
.eyes, and, as far as I can make out, differing in nothing in faith
-and practice from the first Christians. Surely it is more proba-
<ble, even humanly speaking, that the truth is with those who
<have not departed from the faith and practice of the Apostles,
.rather than amongst the Protestant and dissenting Ministers,
who separated themselves but a few hundred years ago from the
Ti.-st of the Christian world, without any distinct authority from
tiod for so doing: leaving out, or quite changingso many points
f faith and discipline which the first Christians be.ieved and
practised, and which, as far as I can see and understand. Catho-
.ics still continue to believe and practise." These reflections
.made Sefton feel very melancholy ; for it is a singular fact, that
every haretic in the progress of arriving at the truth, feels th'
FATHER OSWALD. 251
greatest repugnance to making an ad of fail k upon any point
of Catholic doctrine, however clearly his judgment may be con-
vinced on ihc subject. Should he. however, be once induced iu
all sincerity to make an act of faith on the authority vested in
the Catholic Church, to decide on what it is necessary to believe
in order to possess elernal life, all his repugnance, all his per-
plexities, all his melancholy and uneasiness will instantly van-
ish ; the mind of such a person becomes in an instant as diner-
en, as the light at noon 2nd the darkness at midnight. It is as
necessary to make an act of faith to attain eternal life, as it is
to mike an act of charity; faith, like any other virtue, will lie
dormant, or dead, unless brought into vigour and life by a deci-
ded ct of the will. There >s a wide difference between saving,
as so many liall-converied Protestants do, " / wish. I could be-
lieve; I try to believe, and I can't believe," and saying gene-
rously and nobly. ' I iloLdiiTc in God and in the Church which
Jesus Christ left on earth to leech me all truth." People who
lead wicked lives often sigh and think, I: / icifh I could love
God," but they know full well, that they never will enjoy God
in Heaven, unless they say on earth, " / do luxe God wjth ell
mv heart." and practise this act of charity, too, by keeping His
commandments. So it is with the virtue of faiih ; beiore we
can attain eternal liie. we must make an net nf failli and prac-
tise it too, by believing all thos^ things which are taught as ne-
cessary to salvation by the Church which Jesus Christ planted
on earth, and in which He left the deposit of frith to be preserved
pure and unchanged to the end of time. There ?.re hundreds
and thousands cf Protestants who, in their search after truth,
reach the same state of mind as Sefton : they have seen too
much and they know too much to plead ignorance as an excuse
for remaining in error, and yet they either draw back altogether,
and wilfully shut their eyes to the light; or they remain in a
state of doubt and vacillation, the misery of which no tongue
can describe. Now, what can be the reasons for this 1 Alas, it
is unnecessary to name them; sloth in some, indifference in
others, but in by far the most predominant r.umber, human ic-
fpcct the fear of offending relations anct friends the appre-
hension of what the world will say and think the wtnt nl
courage to bear the reproaches and persecutions of hose nearest
and dearest to them. There is but one slight thread which keeps
them from peace and happiness, and they will not or dare not
snap it And yet what are all the sufferings and trials ot
this short life to the unspeakable glory of an endless eternity,
" What will it avail a man if he gain the whole world and la~e
358 FATHER OSWALD.
his mnn soul ?"* Let persons who have arrived at that state
never cease praying and entreating their Creator to lead them
to the truth, and to give them the courage necessary to overcome
whatever obstacle it is which keeps them from 'peace in this
world and happiness in the next ; let them continually meditatt
on the two important texts of Scripture, " Fear not them tha
kill the body and are not able to kill the soul ; but rather feai
him that can destroy both body and soul in Hell ;"t ana
that wherein St. Paul declares, that there is but "one Lord, ont
t'aitli, and one baptism.": Let them do this, and God, who i*
faithful and compassionate to all our miseries, will not delay ta
encourage and console such souls, and conduct them to the brigh
*eahns of eternal truth, where all is peace, and joy, and inefta
oie glory, through an endless eternity of love and bliss.
CHAPTER XXXII I.
Now, on my faith, this gear is all entangled,
Like to the yarn clew of the drowsy knitter.
Draped by the Irolic kitten through the rahin.
While the good darne sits nodding o'er the fire :
Blasters attend ; 'twill crave some skill to clear it."
SCOTT.
ONE dav, about the beginning of March, induced by the
nalmy mildness of the opening Spring, the Bishop and his party-
accompanied by Sefton, set off with the intention of spending a
few days at Albano, for the purpose of seeing Monte Cani and
Grottaferrata, the Bishop and the ladies in an open barouche,
and Sefton and the Captain on horseback ; the extreme mildness
of ihe weather, and the pleasure of feeling themselves in the
open country and cheering sunbeams, tempted them to extend
their excursion as far as Velletri and Cori. The party were
extremely pleased with the fine scenery about the ancient and
interesting town of Velletri, and still more so with their excur-
sion to Cori, the road to which, winds through rich vineyards
and majestic mountain scenery the whole way to the steep emi-
nence which it crowns. The peasants, in their picturesque
costumes, were all engaged in the cheerful husbandry of early
Spring: lightened by the hopes of future harvests, and enli-
vened by the gay carols of the lark winging his dizzy height in
* Matt. xvi. 2e t Matt. s. 29. t Eph. iv. 5
KATHER OSWALD. 853
the joyous sunbeams. At Cori the pa.'.y ascended its steep and
fatiguing streets, till they readied the acclivity on which stands
the portico of a temple, in days of yore dedicated to Hercules ;
and still in a state of perfect preservation. From the site of
this antique edifice the prospect from horizon to horizon is ex-
quisite. In their descent, thev examined the remaining columns
of a temple of Castor and Pollux, \vith those of an ancient
bridge, and some remnants of Cyclopian walls. As the Bishop
thought it advisable to take a cold luncheon before leaving Cori,
it was rather late ere they were again en rnnie. The Captain
and Selton had brought guns with them to have a little shooting
on the way back to Velletri, and accordingly lagged behind the
rest of the parly to have more chance of starting birds. They
stopped at a mountain pass, where many trees had lately been
cut down near the road, though deep and dark woods extended
foi miles along the ascent towards Cori, and the naked and
sharp-pointed rock Massimo. The underwood around had been
all burnt, and the black and scorched herbage testified that many
months had not elapsed since this work of destruction had been
effected.
" What is the reason that all this fine wood has been de-
stroyed, I wonder 1" said Sefton to his companion.
" On account of the banditti," answered the Captain ; " there
was a desperate gang not long ago in these mountain holds."
" Upon my honour, then," said Sefton, " 1 think if that is the
case, it is rather foolish in us to be here at this time in the
evening."
" Oh ! there is no fear now; besides, the sun is not yet down,
I believe. But silence ! Sefton. I hear a rustling. Now ibr a
good shot !"
A rustling indeed there was, and in the twinkling of an eye
they were surrounded by a troop of armed bandits.
" Down to the ground ! your money or your lives ! your
money or your lives!" resounded from every mouth.
" A sharp scuffle ensued ; the Captain attempted to fire, and
in the struggle his gun went off: this occasioned a momentary
confusion amongst the bandits, which enabled the Captain to
reach his horse: he was in the saddle in a moment, and, hal-
looing to Sefton to follow him and not to surrender, clapped
spurs to his steed, and over hill and dale, through the whizzing
of shot sent after him, in a few minutes was in the high road to
rouse the nearest help and return to the rescue of his (riend.
The Captain did indeed return with a strong detachment of
soldiers, but too late to effect the rescue of his friend. So con-
tentedly giving up farther pursuit, he returned with the news o!
his ill success k> Rome. $2*
334 FATHER OSWALD.
In the meantime Sefton, undismayed by the desertion of his
companion, made a desperate resistance, but his gun was soon
wrenched from him; then, closing with his antagonist, he strug-
gled fiercely with him for a time, until both fell together on the
ground. Sefton grasped at the villain's throat as he lay beneath
him, and was on the point of suffocating him, when the assassin
drew from his belt a stiletto and aimed a murderous blow at the
breast of Sefton ; the point of the poinard struck against the
medal of Our Lady which he had hanging round his neck, and
thus his life was saved : the bandit raised the stiletto to repeat
the stroke, but his arm was arrested by another of the gang,
who bade him " hold, for the life of the prisoner might be worth
a ransom." Sefton let go his grasp from the ruffian's throat, and
they both rose to their feet, but Sefton was instantly overpowered
by numbers ; he was stripped of his watch and money, his arms
pinioned behind him, arid rapidly hurried into the depth of the
thick lorest. The bandits were well aware, that in consequence
of the escape of their other victim, the neighbourhood would
soon be roused, and that a hot pursuit would succeed. In
vain did Sefton entreat to be released ; in vain did he promise
not to betray their haunt; in vain did he offer them rewards,
and voluntarily resign all right to his watch and money.
" Be silent, sirrah!" commanded the chief of the gang, " 01
it will be worse for you ; a rare bird cannot be released without
a rare ransom." To enforce his order, he drew a pistol, and
threatened Sefton with instant death if he disobeyed.
The captain of the band was a handsome bold-looking man,
about thirty, with eyes like those of an eagle. Having passed
the forest, they rapidly dashed up a chasm formed between two
high, inaccessible, and bleak rocks: about the middle of this
pass they suddenly stopped, and forcing Sefton through a crevice
in the rock just wide enough for one man at a time to pass, they
made him turn to the left, and hurried him wilh painful velocity
through a dark winding passage, and then, after another sharp
turn, dropped him into a deep den : where tailing with violence
on the ground, he lay stunned for some time, and only con-
fusedly sensible to the sound of the retiring footsteps of the
bandits, as they left with hurrying feet this dismal and loathsome
prison.
The violence of the fall had burst asunder the cords which
bound his arms, and when he could rise from the ground, he
was enabled to grope along the walls and floor of his cave,
where not ihe slightest ray of light penetrated : from the violence
of his tall, he supposed it must be many feet deep. Awe, terror,
anguish, a thousand terrible ideas rushed through his mind:-
FATIIKR OSWALD. 2T)5
' would the rebbere return, or would they leave him there to die
the lingering, torturing, cruel death of famine, for from his wile,
his children, his country, unheeded and unknown?" As hour
succeeded hour, with what eagerness did he not listen for the
slightest sound ! but all around him was as silent as the grave ;
he had n^ means of calculating how long it was he struggled
with this almost frenzied stale of excitement; nature was at
length exhausted, and he sunk into a profound sleep. When
Beftoa awoke he knew not where he was, and it was long ere
he could distinctly retrace in his remembrance the events of the
preceding day, and the anguish which accompanied each Jink
of this recollection was most poignant ; by this time, he began
to feel the pain of hunger: he roused himself, and determined
togrope round every part of the prison within his reach, but all
his erlorts to find any crevice or appearance of exit were in
vain; he called aloud to the utmost extent of his voice, but it
fell back unanswered within the damp walls of the dungeon.
In his efforts, he stumbled over something on the ground, and
after carefully feeling it, the horrid conviction Hashed on his
mind that it was a human skeleton : he hastened as far as he
could from this fearful proof of the crimes and cruelties of the
bandits; he sunk on the ground from inanition and terror, and,
Hasping his trembling hands together, made a fervent prayer to
God to deliver him from this dreadful place, and from the hor-
rors of so lingering and frightful a death. How fervently did
he at that moment promise to serve God with all his heart, how
sincerely did he resolve to do justice to his poor persecuted
Emma, and what remorse did he not feel for his conduct towards
her! The interests of his immortal soul then rose before him
in all the reality of their terrifying importance. He had no
faith whereon to rely ; he had long since been convince;! tha*
the doctrines of the Established Church in which he had been
educate;!, were in great part false; he had felt the truth of most
of the Catholic doctrines, and he groaned bitterly in spirit, that
he had so long delayed to clear up his few remaining doubts.
Why had he shut his eyes to the light that God had sent him 1
Had God punished him thus for the neglect of his graces'?
Was he doomed to die thus in his sins and in despair 1
" God of mercy." he exclaimed, " 1 am unworthy to call Thee
Father, yet I am Thy creature, the work of Thy hands. Oh !
cast me not from Thee for ever ! Rather look upon Thy beloved
Son, and let his bleeding wounds plead in my behalf. Too long
I have hardened my heart to the voice of Thy mercy ; but Thou,
my God, wilt not despise the humbled and contrite heart." He
felt in his bosom for the portrait of Emma ; that he might kiss it
256 FATHER OSWALD.
for the last time, and take a last and long tareweh \ \\\ TMT, IH
her image. But the portrait was gone: and he he i,t\ j-.VJ-l in
frenzied despair. He found, however, the medal u i.V L'.twed
Virgin, the only property which the bandits had re^x'/d. Hf
kissed the medal, as the providential means which iuid sa'Ml
his life from the dagger of an assassin, and at the same inointvj
the parting words of Sister Angela flashed on his remembrance.
They seemed to him to be the prophetic warning of a pure and
superhuman being one surely inspired by an ever-watchful
providence. " Twice do I owe my life to Ihee, angelic maiden.
Thou badest me invoke the Virgin, Mother of my Redeemer;
in all my troubles and afflictions. I cannot do wrong in obey-
ing thy injunctions." He clasped the medal beiween his hands,
and bowing down with profound humility and with an incipient
faith and hope that he might be heard, he thus prayed : " Virgin,
Mother of rny Redeemer, if it be true, as I am told, that thou
hast often obtained unexpected relief to the poor and to the af-
flicted, show now the power of thy intercession with thy divine
Son, and succour me in this my utter distress. 1 ' Sefton had
scarcely finished his prayer, when he found his heart relieved,
and an undefinable ray of hope shot across his mind. From
that moment he took a firm determination that no pride no
human respect should hinder him from embracing the true,
religion the moment he was satisfied where it existed. By de-
grees, however, his strength became weaker and weaker; he
suffered acutely from famine, and gradually became entirely
senseless and unable to move. After remaining several days
in this state, though he had no idea of the space of time elapsed,
it seemed to him, as though in a painful dream, that he behelc 1
a light over his head, and heard the murmur of voices, and
thought he beheld a ladder of rope let down into his dungeon,
and a Capuchin with a Ion? white beard descend the ladder, and
approach towards him. His weakness was so great, he seemed
to wish the dream would pass, and that his insensibility would
return; but the dream did not pass: for it was no dream, but
really and truly Father Guiseppe, who, now leaning over Sefton,
with the tenderest compassion, endeavoured to force some wine
down his throat; after a few minutes he succeeded, and by de-
grees Seftou began to be sensible of the reality of what was;
going on around him.
" O my God !" exclaimed Father Guiseppe, clasping his
hands, " and this is the horrid work of your reckless, wretched
companions !"
The person he addressed was a young bandit, who was lean-
ing ever the mouth of the dungeon, and holding the top 01
FATHER OSWALD. '267
the rope-ladder and a dark lantern, which cast a fitful light into
the gloomy abode below.
"Come^ come. Father, none of your reproaches," answered
he, "for you are now in my power; if I draw up the ladder I
can leave you to share his fate, and never would any one be the
wiser : but you see I have a spark of conscience left, or I should
not have brought you here to give the poor wretch's soul a last
chance. I marvel much he is alive."
" Peace, peace, my son," said the Father quietly, " add not to
j - our weight of guilt' by taking my life, but fix the ladder firmly,
and extend your arras to draw this poor victim up by means ot
my cloak."
The bandit did as he was ordered, and, after some difficulty,
Seiton was extracted from the dungeon, and dragged by him
and the Capuchin along the intricate and narrow turnings
through which he had been conducted to it The influence of
the open air, and a little nourishment given sparingly and at
intervals, soon revived him sufficiently to enable them to bind
nim firmly on a stout horse. It was a fine moonlight evening,
and all nature still around them ; but Sefton's heart anxiously
beat to know what was now to be his fate, and he was still
more appalled on hearing Father Guiseppe take leave of the
bandit, and commend Sefton to his care and fidelity on his route.
" Good God '" thought he, " can this friar be in league with the
robbers ! how horrible ! what hypocrisy under a religious habit !'"
in a weak and scarcely articulate voice, he appealed to Father
Guiseppe not to forsake him.
" Be at peace, my son," answered he, leaning over him, and
he added in a low whisper, ' : all will yet go well. I will tint
frtakc you, and you will yet, I hope, live to show your gratitude
to God lor this deliverance, by loving Him with all your heart,
and soul, and rnind, in the one true faith."
Sefton felt a compunctious regret that he had not yet thanked
God for his deliverance from the dungeon.
" I do thank my God most fervently," said he; " but why am
I to go with that wretch V added he feebly.
" Because he must conduct you to his Captain ; too muck
bloodshed and crime would lie the consequence ot' his disobe-
dience; he has staked much to bring me to you; trust in God,
and all will go right. Holy Mary and St. Francis guide you
safely on your way !"
The name of Marv brought to the mind of Sefton the prayer
he had made to the Virgin at a moment when all human ho|>e
of succour seemed to have been lost for ever, and he thought
vrilhin himself, "May I not owe my deliverance to herT A
'258 FATHER OSWALD.
Catholic \7ouiJ not hesitate to attribute the boon to her inter-
cession, and why should I doubt it? It' the prayer of the jusl
man availcth much, surely the prayer of the "Virgin Mother o!
Jesus must be all-powerful. 1 ' He breathed a heartfelt prayer ol
thanksgiving to the Mother of Mercy, and with increased con-
fidence commended himself to her protection, that she would
finish the good work she had so graciously begun in his behalf.
But why he was again to be consigned to bondage was all a
mystery to Seflon, and the impatient voice of the bandit pre-
vented any further discourse with Father Guiseppe, and they
separated ; the good religious taking his way towards his convent
near Velietri, and the bandit, mounted and armed, conducting
Sefton and his horse rapidly on towards the wilds of'Tusculum.
They passed under Monte Cuvi. and along Hannibal's camp,
reposing in the broad moon-beams, ere a syllable was exchanged
between them; but as they approached nearer to Tusculum,
winding amid bleak and barren scenery, the bandit suddenly
turning round, and striking his hand on his pistol, "Hark ye !
young Englishman," said he, " it is as much as your life is
worth to tell yonder crew that you have seen the Capuchin. Do
you undersland me 1"
Sefton had no alternative, but to promise obedience.
" My name is Rinaldo," continued the bandit, " and lam next
in command to the Captain; he sent me to bring you bajk to
him for the sake of the ransom, and I left a dear pledge for my
fidelity. He is a hard man ; but f, who like not the life over
well, out of compassion for your soul, brought the Father, think-
ing you might be at the last gasp, and want shriving of your
heresies."
Sefton groaned internally, and marvelled much at the odd
mixture of good and bad in his strange companion.
" The Captain is so suspicious," continued the bandit, " that
if he knew of the Capuchin, he would shoot me on the spot."
Sefton reiterated his promise of silence, and shortly after-
wards they arrived at the haunt of the bandits in the wilds of
Tusculuni. There is a spot, now shown as Cicero's school, rind
just below it extends a vale, which reminds one of the poet's
description of the vale of Paradise. It was at that moment lit
up by the silvery softness of the placid moon ; and Sefton gazed
iu admiration at the superb forest scenery which, on either side,
fringed this lovely valley, as it gradually expanded and dis-
closed in its lengthening vista the little town of Frascati, sleep-
ing in the silence of night; the ruined remains of Monte Dra-
gone, and the villa Rufma, embosomed in deep woods, and re-
posing in the moon-beams, and far, iar beyond, the broad and
FATHER OSWALD. 25U
rich Campaffiiia, with all its soft, peculiar features, Hounded
only by the waters of the blue ocean, reflecting on its tranquil
wave the refulgent queen of night. A few yards below Cicero's
school, is a circula. clump of rich garden roses, mingled with
the yellow broom, growing over a slight hollow on the green
:urf of a few yards' extent. This hollow concealed the entrance
-o the bandits' caves, which extended far underground, and had
probably once formed the substruction of some Roman villa,
and into which Scl'ton was soon introduced by his companion
Rinnldo. while the bandits were still carousing.
"Ha!" exclaimed the Captain, starting up; " Rinaldo, my
good fellow, arc you returned, and with our captive alive "~"
" I have done your bidding." answered Rinaldo sulkily ;
"there's the Englishman: now, where is Vincenzal are she
and the boy well V' added he hastily.
" They are where you left them," replied the Captain haugh-
lily ; u go and satisfy yourself."
Rinaldo entered into an inner cave, and in a few minutes re-
turned apparently satisfied ; then holding out -his hand to the
Captain, " Come," said he, " we are friends again ; give me food
and drink, for I have not had a bit or sup since we parted ; but
first you must attend to the prisoner, or you'll be likely to get
small ransom for a dead body."
The Captain drew near to examine Sefton,and even his fierce
and stern features relented when he saw the pale emaciated face
of his prisoner : he gave a low whistle, and a miserable look-
ing, hideous beldam stood before him. " Here, Macrina," said
lie. "attend to this poor wretch, and see him fed, and put to
repose."
"And see you do not overfeed him. you old hag!" exclaimed
Rinaldo ; " to-night is the first time lie has tasted food for many
days !"
The old woman obeyed, and SeRon was soon comfortably
enough laid on a mattrass and covered with warm cloaks; but
he could not sleep, for the bandits seemed to think that the ar-
rival of Rinaldo was a sufficient excuse for prolonging their
revels. From their conversation, he soon gathered that they
had sent, by a shepherd boy, to Rome, to demand a high ransom
for his safe restoration, accompanied in case of refusal by threats
of inflicting immediate death: he found also that the Captain
and a detachment were to set off on the morrow for the mountain
passes near Itri, as travellers were shortly expected up from
Naples. "And now, Rinaldo, my good fellow," said the Cap-
lain, who was nearly intoxicated, " let us have a parting song.'
CfiO FATHER OSWALD.
Rinaldo, nothing loath to keep up the merriment, readily COO'
olied
I.
Oh ! who is so gay as a jolly brigand,
Who lives by his wits and stiletto,
His name runs like wildfire over the laml,
For the Pope never keeps it in petto.
o.
If we can't get a castle, we live in a cave,
And banish all sorrow and spleen,
And when danger 's at hand, we are active and brave,
And laugh at the old guillotine.
3.
Long life to the Tope, good compassionate soul !
May he never have hotter police ;
An I good luck to ourselves, as we spring from our hole,
The next plodding traveller to fleece.
4.
Then a fig for the fifty old worthies and Tope,
Who govern the Hapal see,
For a true brigand can easily cope
With their catcli-htm-who-can decree !
The applause which followed Rinaldo's ditty gradually sub-
bided, and the bandits one by one wrapt themselves in their
cloaks to sleep away the fatigues and revels of the day.
Early the next morning the Captain and his detachment set
off on their foraging expedition, and the rest of the band, under
the command of Rinaldo, penetrated higher up amongst the
thick wood, which was almost trackless, except where it was
interrupted by the ancient paved streets, and remaining vestiges
of the dwellings of man. Some of the bandits were stationed
under what is called the fortress, and others not far from the
remains of the beautiful amphitheatre. Sefton was fettered, no
that escape was impossible; -and, thus secured, was allowed to
vrander from one beautiful spot to another, but always under the
watchful eye of a guardian. Notwithstanding his anxiety as to
his fate, he could not help admiring the exquisite and peculiar
scenery around him, especially during the magnificent sunsets
he witnessed from this classic site; he enjoyed, the delicious
reveries and reflections produced by the recollections of the past,
associated to the beauties of the present, now tinged by the most
delicate fairy softness and freshness of early spring. More than
a week had elapsed in this listless sort of existence, and he be-
came daily more uneasy at the delay of the expected ransom,
ivhen one evening, as he was reposing on the broken remnants
FATHER OSWALD. 201
of an ancient column, now gazing on the shadow)" softening ol
the evening sky, now contemplating the peaceful solitude of the
Camaldolese monastery, which lay stretched beneath him, nov/
listening to the silvery tones of the church-bell as it rung the
" Ave Maria," his attention was suddenly roused by the sound
of a guitar. Sefton turned his eyes to the quarter whence the
sound proceeded, and beheld, at a little distance, Rinaldo seated
near Vincenza, who was leaning over her infant boy, reusing
on the ground, on the folds of a rich crimson shawl, the spoils,
doubtless, of some unfortunate traveller. Vincenza herself was
in the costume of Frascati, but composed of the most costly
materials. Her head and neck were adorned with necklaces
and rich jewels ; her figure was light and graceful, and her dark,
brilliant, laughing eyes, accorded well with the lips and cheeks,
that told of the sunny south; she and Rinaldo were singing, and
the soft evening breeze brought the accents to Seftoa. as he gazed
tin the picturesque group :
1
Arc Maria ere yet the dav's close.
For protection we beg through the forthcoming night,
As twilight, soft, prelude of Nature's repose,
Steeps the senses in calmness and peaceful delight.
2.
Ave Maria ! that monastery hell
Seems the prayer of all matter thit's voiceless to thee,
Of the mounla'n and lull, of the valley and dell,
Of the rocks, and t.'ie waves of the fathomless sea.
3.
Ave Maria '. that monastery bell
Bids the pilgrim so weary uncover and kneel,
It rouses the monk in his comfortless cell.
And calls forth from thousands, the hallowed appeal.
4.
AVP Maria ! that monastery hell
Has cited to prayer rny a 1 tremMin? muse,
Oh ! receive of devoti >n the bosornful swell.
Nor a votary's humble petition refuse.
The sound ceased, and Sefton thought within himself \vba
an incomprehensible being man was; " here are these people,*
mused he, "leading a wicked and lawless life, and then luflinj
;heir consciences by devotion to the Virgin, as if she, (consider
ing her merely as a pure and holy woman,) could I* pleased
with accents from such lips. 4 ' But Selton rasMv judged Ri-
23
2G2 F ATHER OSWALD.
naldo and Vincenza, though appearances were certainly against
them.
In a few moments, Vincenza arose, and, taking her child in
her arms, passed by the spot where Sel'ton was sitting; in pass-
ing him, she dropt a letter close to him, and said in a low voice,
" It' your answer to this is in the affirmative, break a broom
branch, and leave it by the column on which you are sitting."
She hastened on and he took the letter; on opening it, he Ibund,
to his surprise, that it was from Father Giuseppe, who briefly
informed Sel'ton, that the bandits had determined, in case of the
non-arrival of the ransom, after two more days, to cut off one
of his hands, and send it down to Rome ; that he himself, confi-
dent in being able to procure his escape, hads:opped ihe ransom
on its way ; that Ilinaldo and Vincenza had both become sincere
penitents, and had, after many struggles, determined to forsake
their lawless life ; that they were both to be at the church of the
Capuchin convent, between Tusculum and Frascati, before
sunrise the next morning, to con less their sins, and be united in
lawful matrimony ; that he had arranged their escape to a distant
province in Italy, where they were unknown, and in which
country they hoped to lead a virtuous and honest life. Father
Guiseppe stated at some length, how he had known and instruc-
ted Rinaldo in his childhood, how he was led by bad companions
to the commission of some crime which had rendered him ob-
noxious to the laws that fleeing from justice he had joined this
lawless gang: how he had never ceased praying for him, and
rousing his conscience, till, by God's grace, he was brought to
true penitence, and he concluded by saying, that Rinaldo, at his
earnest request, had undertaken to favour the escape of Sefton.
by bringing him along with them as far as the convent already
mentioned, on condition that Sefton should give him an order
tor one hundred scudi towards the payment of his journey to the
distant place of his retirement.
When Sefton had read this document, he fervently thanked
God for such an unexpected hope of deliverance, and with great
delight did he show his acceptance of the condition, by break-
ing the broom branch and leaving it as Vincenza had told him.
That night he slept with his heart full of hopes and fears and
gratitude, and the morning sun found him kneeling in the church
of the Capuchins, witnessing Ihe marriage of Rinaldo and Vin-
cenza; Vincenza, now no longer decked in rich and ill-gotten
robes, but in the simple costume of her native Frascati. Father
Guiseppe had obtained the permission of the parish priest to
perform the marriage, and the moment that was finished, they
^nd their child proceeded disguised by the earliest coach to
Rome, oa the way to their destination.
FATHER OSWALD. 263
While Sefton remained concealed for a lew days in the Ca-
puchin convent, he had several conversations with Father Gui-
peppe, on different points of Catholic faith and pnictice, and was
greatly edified with the meek, humble, mortified, and pious de-
meanour of the religious community. " Surely," thought ho,
" if they who serve the Altar have a right to live by the altar,
these men must be actuated by an Apostolic spirit, who re-
nounce all tithes and possessions, and depend solely on the vol-
untary contributions of the people, who will give only in pro-
portion to the value end esteem they have of their services."
Before he left the convent he gave them a copious alms, (as
the good Father had taken care to bring him a sum of money
from his banker in Rome,) in testimony of his respect and obli-
gation to them ; he reached Rome in safety, to the joy and sur-
prise of his anxious friends; particularly the gallant Captain
by whom he had been so ingloriously deserted.
"Yes," said he, as he concluded the relation of his fearful
adventures, " 1 do most fully retract having called that excellent
man. Father Guiseppe, an idle votfrant ; and I acknowledge,
tnat amongst the barefooted friars, there are excellent, and-holv
and useful members of society."
CHAPTER XXXIV.
" Canst thou not minister to a mind diseased :
Pluck from the memory a rooted sorrow :
Raze out the written troubles of ihe brain ;
And, with some sweet oblivious aniidote,
Cleanse the foul bosom of that perilous stuff,
Which weighs upon the heart ?"
SHAKSPEARE.
BEFORE Rinaldo parted from Sefton, he gave him a convinc-
ing proof of the sincerity of his conversion by restoring the
little miniature of Emma, set in rubies, which has been already
mentioned. In the division of the spoils this had fallen to his
lot, and he now returned it to its rightful owner uninjured.
After Sefton 's return to Rome, as he was one morning fastening
a new ribbon to it previous to replacing it round his neck, a let-
ter was brought to him. The letter was from Emma, and af-
lected him very much, as it informed him of the serious illness
wl' iLeir youngest child. This poor baby had never thriven alter
264 PATH EU OSWALD.
it had been so violently torn from the maternal breast, and now
during the period of dentition, deprived of its natural nourish-
ment, and of the watchful and tender cares which a mother
alone can give, there seemed little chance of its living much
longer in this vale of tears, or that it would ever more gladden a
father's eye in this world. Sei'ton was struck with grief, for he
well remembered the day that hr forsook Emma, leaving it at
her breast; and afterwards, when IIP had it with him at Eagle-
nost Cottage, he never could look at it without a pang. He
thought God had sent this affliction to chastise him for his tardi-
ness in doing what conscience too plainly told him was right.
When he reflected on this intelligence, he wondered how he
could have left an innocent wife so long without any mitigation
of the severity of his treatment towards her with regard to their
children. All his paternal feelings were roused, and in him
they were very strong. What to do was the next question.
Should he return immediately to England 1 That thought did
not bring peace ; for his mind was yet far from being settled on
the point of religion, or rather, to speak more correctly, he still
felt he wanted the moral courage to act decidedly in the way
conscience whispered was right. It was loo late to answer the
letter by that day's post ; therefore he determined to take a soli-
tary walk and reflect well on the matter. He rambled as far as
the fountain of Egeria, and reflected long and deeply on the line
of conduct to pursue ; but all his reflections ended as they had
begun, in a state of painful indecision. "I will take advice,"
said he, springing up from the broken stump of a tree on which
he had been sitting: " I will go directly to the Gesu, and show
this letter to Father Oswald: he is interested in Emma's fate;
and if I follow his advice, I think I cannot act unjustly; be-
sides, he knows all the circumstances of the case circumstances
which I should feel some little difficulty and pain in relating to
any other person in Rome." Accordingly, Sefton set off, and
walked as fast as he could to the Gesu : as fast as people are
apt to walk sometimes, when they seem to imagine that locomo-
tion will liberate them from unpleasant ideas. Sel'ton had not
seen Father Oswald since his return from the mountains; he
had, therefore, first to relate his adventures, and then told him
of his grief; showed him Emma's letter and asked what steps
he thought would be best to be taken : adding, " 1 have a par-
ticular reason for wishing to visit Naples before I return to Eng-
land, and, perhaps, even Emma, poor thing! would li more
satisfied 1 should do so, if she knew what that reason was."
"I am sure your wish would be sufficient for her.'' said
Father Oswald, smiling : " write, and tell her so, my good friend."
FATHER OSV/ALD. i-'CS
Hie f;ct is,"said Sefton bluntly, "I want to see that inira-
uc, or rather to see that there is no miracle at all. :>
' You mean the miracle of the liquefaction of the biocx) of
Faint Janu.'-rins." said Father Oswald somewhat archly.
' Yes: I have been at some pains to find out lhat the reformed
churches have never yet proved or produced a miracle to stamp
their mission and truth; and I certainly have a curiosity to see
what pretensions this alleged miracle of the blood has to be
what Catholics pietend it is : namely, a standing testimonial ot
the truth of their religion. You may remember, Sir, a conver-
sation I had with you once on the subject of miracles ; well, 1
r.rn .still of the same opinion ; if I could be convinced of the
existence of miracles now in the Catholic or any other religion,
it would make a great change in my mind."
" That miracles have ever existed, and do still exist in the
Catholic Church, is an undoubted fact." said Father Oswald :
"and it is equally a fact that they never have and never can
ixist in any other ; because God never could work a miracle in
confirmation of error; it would be a blasphemy to imagine so.
I think Mrs. Sefton would certainly wish you to satisfy your
mind on this subject before your return ; but I recommend you
to write and mention your wish, as I said before ; in the mean-
time, could you not permit her to go to her children 7 You must
be aware that this kindness on your part would be a sensible
consolation to her during your protracted absence; and, again,
as vou ask my advice, I think you ought not in conscience to
dep..ve that sick infant of its mother's care without a sufficient
reason, now, in this case, I cannot see the existence of any suf-
ficient reason for such an act."
Sefton coloured, and fidgetted, and sighed.
" Excuse my speaking plainly, but I think that act of justice
is the least you can do towards your wife and children ; she ha?
suffered a good deal on your account."
" O my God ! indeed she has," exclaimed Sefton vehementlv.
striking his forehead with his hand. "I will do it, yes, I will
do it. I shall write by to-morrow's post, and tell her to godcwn
to Devonshire, and join her children and Harriet there; bul
then the General," added he, stopping short: " the old man has
been very kind to her; what will he say to this arrangement 1"
' Let him accompany her there, and when thr child is better,
thoy can all return together, if he wishes it. to his own house.
I owe my excellent friend a letter, and I shall write and explain
the state of the case to him if you like."
"Well, my dear Sir, I think it would be a good thing if you
should take that trouble. I hope rny poor Emma will be a little
23*
JW6 FATHER OSWALD. ,
consoled by this arrangement, and I shall have time to get rny
own mind settled one way or another before we meet. This 1
ieel absolutely necessary for the happiness of us both, if ever
we are to be happy again," added he despondingly.
"Keep up your heart, my good friend; God never forsakes
those who trust in Him," said Father Oswald kindly.
Sriton shook him warmly by the hand, and hurried out of the
room: he went to his lodgings, and immediately wrote a feeling
and consolatory letter to Emma, mentioning li is wish to spend
thrt Holy Week in Rome, and to visit Naples; but adding, that
in case the child was worse, and that she wished him to return,
he should think it his duty as a father so to do. He lelt con-
soled after this letter was sent off, notwithstanding his parental
anxiety still remained.
It would be difficult to convev by words an idea of the grief,
anxiety, and agitation which temrna endured during this period,
and more particularly after she was informed of the alarming
illness of her baby. Her uncle was indefatigable in his affec-
tionate attentions, but her feeling of desolation was too great to
be susceptible of human consolation, however grateful she night
be to him who offered it; all her consolation, all her support
was prayer; but never during the whole period of this severe
trial did she once regret the generous sacrifice she had made to
her God. She constantly prayed to her Saviour to support her
under her afflictions, and He did not fail to mingle a drop of
consolation in the bitter cup she was drinking for His sakb.
The General began to be seriously alarmed about her health.
Many and vehement were the exclamations and interjections
that escaped him on the conduct of her husband; these would
have been much more frequent, had he not been aware of the
pain they gave her. When Sefton's letter arrived, giving his
wife permission to join her children, it would be difficult to say
whether Emma or her uncle was the most surprised. The same
post brought Father Oswald's letter to the General, who, in con-
sequence, bustled about and exerted himself so effectually, thai
in less than three honrs after the arrival of the letters, he and
Emma were on their road to Devonshire. Harriets joy and
surprise at their arrival were very great; and as :he clasped
Emma in her arms, " Now," said she, " I shall be able at last
to get some per.ce and quiet. Oh! the troubles I have had with
those children ! my dear Emma, now, at least, you will take ail
that oft' my hands, and I shall be able to sit still."
" Too happy shall I be so to do, my dear, dear sister," replied
Emma, whose emotion was so great she could scarcely speak;
" now, take me to iny children."
FATHER OSWALD. 267
"Yes," said Harriet, turning to the General as they walked
towards the nursery, "yesterday afternoon I saw two magpies
on the lawn, and I was sure some good would come cf it."
" Oh ! Miss Harriet, Miss Harriet!" said the Ger.era-I, shak-
ing his head incredulously, " that won't do, indeed !"
But Harriet was at this moment too much occupied with her
:wn happiness at getting Emma 'xick, to pay attention to any
thing else.
The fostering care of its mother soon restored the babe to
convalescence: it was seldom out of her arms, night or day,
and fervently did she thank God for the consolation He had
thus vouchsafed. She wrote a letter full of affection and grati-
tude to Edward; expressing her entire approbation that he should
use every means to satisfy his mind one th subject of religion,
though his prolonged absence could not but cause her pain.
This letter drew tears from Edward's eyes, and from that time
their correspondence became daily more affectionate and inti-
mate ; he proposed many of his difficulties to her, and was fre-
quently surprised at the simple and clear manner in which she
answered them. In the meantime Emma consoled herself with
her children as well as she could; but all who know what a
woman's love is need not be informed while her husband was
far away, and her heart divided with hopes and fears regard-
ing her future destiny how fitful her happiness was. how
chequered were her nights and days with doubts, fears, and
anxieties. In prayer she found her only peace and consolation,
reposing with an entire confidence all her griefs in the besom
of her Heavenly Father. She frequently received the Holy
Communion, and she then felt fully the truth of the Saviour's
divine words, "Come to me, all you who labour and are heavily
burthened, and I will refresh yon, and you shall find rest for
If DOT souls."
FATHER OSWALO.
CHAPTER XXXV.
" O teach me to believe Thee lluis concealed,
.And search no further than thyself revealed ;
Hut her alone for my director take,
Whom tliou hast promised never to forsake."
THf" Lent passed vapidly away, and each day found Seftor
more deeply <>ngaged in studying and seeking explanations o:
what appeared to him odd or absurd in the Catholic religion;
his mine! being rio\v so completely absorbed on the subject of
religion, that he attended little either to the study of antiquities,
or the pleasures of society. With the natural ardour and per-
severance of his character, he was now* determined to silt the
subject thoroughly, and not to cease his efforts till his mind was
quite satisfied one \vav or another. He till nourished the idea
formed in Switzerland, that if he could be convinced of the con-
tinued existence of miracles, either in the Catholic church, or
in any other, that that church must be the true one: but his
heart often sunk when he thought of the impossibility of ever
being satisfied on that point; for he felt that the evidence hi;
should require must be so unanswerable, that he despaired of
ever meeting with it. He had determined to visit Naples, t.o
se3 the asserted miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of St.
.Tanuarius; but so deeply impressed in his mind was the Pro-
testant axiom that miracles have ceased, that he felt convinced
the whole was a complete trick; and that he had only to go and
see, to be completely satisfied that it was a vile imposture of the
Clergy to keep the people in ignorance and superstition. He
never alluded in his ideas to the possibility of the existence of a
supernatural interposition of Providence in the affairs of men,
except sometimes in his conversations with Father Oswald.
He had read so many infidel and Protestant writers on the sub-
ject, that he was apt to imagine it was a weakness almost to be
ashamed of, to suppose it possible that miracles could exist in
the present day: however, as he always talked very freely vith
Father Oswald, their discussions on the subject of a supernatu
ral providence were not unfrequent. Holy Week was now fast
approaching, and the mysteries of the passion were ushered in
by the solemn benediction of palm branches in the Sistine
Chapel, which the Pope and Cardinals bore in their hands in
slow procession ; while the choir sung the triumphal song of
the Hcbrt ws, " Hosanna ! Blessed is He that corneth in the name
KATHF.R OSWALD. 2<>9
of the Lord the King of Israel."* Tins joyful ceremony was
followed immediately by the mournful chant of the passion.
The contrast made a deep impression on the heart of Sefton,
arxl he could not help reflecting how fickle and worthless were
the applauses of this world, when the very men, who a few days
before in loud ac.'laim, extolled the Saviour as the King of
Israel, now cry out in horrid yells, " Crucify him, crucify him."
Sefton beheld all the touching ceremonies of that holy and
solemn week with the greatest attention. He satisfied himself
on the meaning and explanation of every thing he saw ; and
Monsignore Guidi found it required no little patience to answer
ill his inquiries; astonished as he was at the beauty and pro-
priety of the Church service. As he became acquainted with
the prayers and understood the meaning of the ceremonies, he
felt their effect in exciting devotional feelings, and expressed
considerable regiet that no vestige of them had been retained in
the English service. When he was informed tlict the Catholics
in England still keep up the practice of the same ceremonies as
he was witnessing in Rome, his astonishment was unfeigned;
he again wondered what reason could have induced the h'rst
Reformers to abolish from their ritual, the yearly remembrance
of the sufferings of the Saviour, and the benefits of the Redemp-
tion, a practice so natural for a Christian, and so calculated u-
excite sentiments of compunctious penitence for sin, and grati
lude to God. Sefton felt his heart melt within him. as he lis
tenod to the deep pathetic tones of the " Miserere," and his whoU
voul dissolved in tenderness and compassion as, with absorbec
attention, he dwelt on the prolonged deep pathos of the voices
that as from another sphere chanted the sublime account gives
by the Evangelists of the sufferings and death of a God-man
Ho was deeply moved at the solemn gloom that sat on every
brow in the streets of Rome on Good Friday, as if some common
calamity had fallen upon the city. " Surely," said he, " these
people must think upon, and feel for the sufferings of the Lord !
whence comes it that these salutary days pass over our people of
England without producing the slightest change in their habits,
looks, and busy pursuits 1 They have nothing to remind them
t.f the holy season; perhaps not one in ten thousand thinks
upon his crucified Redeemer. The men who abolished all
external marks of sorrow, kr..?w little of the human heart, or
had litlle Effect ion for Jesus/' These mournful leelings swelled
in his breast as he strolled through the streets of Rome, and re-
marked that the joyful sound of a bell was not heard during that
nay; and when he stepped into any church, he found every light
Join) xii. 13.
270 r.VTIIKR OSWALD.
extinguished, every Altnr naked, stripped of all ornament, nnrt
a universal desolation reigning round. In the afternoon he went
to St. Peter's with Monsignore Guidi, to see the pilgrims, who
came in crowds on that day to the Basilica. He there saw a
Cardinal approach ; he was the grand penitentiary, accompanied
with his officers and the Confessors of the Church. The Car-
dinal ascended to the elevated seat of the Confessional, which
had already been prepared for him, and a golden wand was put
into his hands ; then the accompanying Priests, one alter an-
other, knelt humbly before him, and he laid on the head of each
.he golden wand. Next followed a crowd of seculars, male
and female, of every class, to receive a gentle stroke of the rod,
Sef'ton smiled at the ceremony, and, turning to Monsignore
Guidi, asked him, "Is there any magic in that wand 1 ? is the
Cardinal conjuring with it 1"
"The question is natural enough from you," replied the Pre-
late; "it has been asked be lore by Protestants. Its meaning i;
simple, and when you will have heard the explanation, I thiniv
you cannot aisapprove of its piety. By that humble prostration,
each individual acknowledges, in the face of the Church, thai
he is a poor sinner, worthy of those stripes which were laid on
the shoulders of Jesus."
"The thought is just and holy," replied Sefton. "Yet 1
doubt if a Protestant could ever he induced to make such a pub-
lic act of humiliation. Alas! who is more worthy of stripes
than myself 1"
Without saying another word, he pushed forward, and, kneel-
ing reverently, received the tap of Ihe golden wand. Many
Protestants were present, and gazed with astonishment at this
sight ; some condemned it as an act of aposiacv : others main-
tained it was only a sportive act of levity, performed as the
matter of future merriment. Quite different were the sentiments
of Sefton ; he felt consoled internally at this his first victory
over rebellious pride, and at the triumph over all human re-
spects. He then proceeded to the Sistine Chapel, to attend for
the third time at the ofiice of Tenebroe, with redoubled fervour
and devotion. If his soul was touched and filled with holy
pensiveness at these serious and affecting ceremonies, it was
raised, and exalted, and rejoiced by the bursts of Alleluias and
holy exultation which rung through the roof of the venera-
ble Sistine Chnpel on the morning- of Holy Saturday, in antici-
pation of the Resurrection of the Saviour that Resurrection,
which was the fulfilment and confirmation of all the prophecies
of the old law, and of the many promises of the Redeemer.
Then came the glorious pontifical of the Sovereign Pontiff in
FATHER OSWALD. 271
tne unrivalled church of St. Peter's on the morning of Easter
Sunday, when all is joy, and peace, and happiness ; it iilled
niiu with wonder and delight. Sefton's admiration reached its
climax at the imposing and heart-touching spectacle of the
(solemn, triple benediction imparted by the Pope to the whole
Torld, Iron; the front of the Vatican Basilica, as a seal of peace
and protection given by the " One Shepherd," to His ' one lold ;"
he was deep'y affected, and he felt within himself how beautiful
and how good it is for brethren to dwell together in peace ani
charity, and mutual union. By degrees the tumult of his feel-
mas subsided, and he gazed with a calm feeling of hope on the
first soft, and then brilliant illumination of the dome and area of
St. Peter's. He had experienced during the past week a variety
of new emotions; but he retired to rest that night in a calm and
peaceful state of mind. One thing had annoyed and astonished
Sefton extremely during the past week, and that was the scan-
dalous behaviour of the Protestants. He was often fairly
ashamed of his fellow-countrymen and country-women. He
sometimes attempted remonstrance and reproach, but both were
equally unavailing. The English seemed to imagine these
solemn and religious devotions as a kind of show or exhibition
got up on purpose to amuse or astonish them. They appeared
lor that week to have laid aside every feelinjr of decency, deco-
rum, and propriety : forgetful, alike, that they were in the tem-
ple of God and in a foreign land, where, though their conduct is
too kindly tolerated, nevertheless, it occasions both scandal and
contempt from its more polished inhabitants. What would Pro-
testants say, if they saw a party of Catholics behave in the
same gross way, and utter the same profane, insulting, and silly
speeches in St. Paul's in London as they do in St. Peter's, and
in other churches in Rome 1 It is unfortunately loo true, that
the conduct of Protestants often brings the unbidden, burning
blush on the cheeks of honourable English Catholics, as well a
of pious and high-born Italians.
172 FATHEi-. OSWALD.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
" A I have seen a swan
With Bootless labour s\virn against the tide,
And spend her strength with overmatching waves."
SHAKSPEARB.
" CAN I do any thing for you in Naples, Sir V sail! Sefton ti<
Father Oswald a few days alter Easter, as he was paying him
a visit at the Gesu.
" Thank you," replied the Father, "are you going to leave
Rome so soon V
" I am anxious to see Naples and its environs before the
weather becomes too hot ; and Easter was late this year, you
know."
" Well : do not forget to go and see the miracle ; promise mt>
that," said Father Oswald.
"You mean the liquefaction of the blood of St. Januaritis
or rather its alleged liquefaction; now. tell me, Father Oswald,
candidly, do you reallv believe it to be a miracle vourself 1"
"Most certainly I do," said Father Oswald ; " I have seen
it with my own eyes."
" I can assure you," said Sefton seriously, " I have been told
that the Neapolitans themselves do not believe in it."
"Not believe in it !" exclaimed Father Oswald; "well, you
reallv astonish me."
" Nevertheless, I have heard so," answered defton ; "and in
a work published not long ago by a person who had resided sev-
eral years in Naples it is called : The Miracle of the Lazzaroni.'
Perhaps some of the most gross and superstitious of the lowest
orders may believe in it, but certainly not Catholics of any edu-
cation."
' There we quite differ," said Father Oswald firmly ; " some
inficle'.s may scoffing! y term it the miracle of the Lazzaroni, as
the uiibelieving Jews called the miracles of Christ the works of
Beelzebub I only wish you had been with me the day I had
the happiness of seeing it take place. I wish you had seen the
church crowded, not for one day, but for eight continuous days,
with throngs of pious and well-educated people, from the king
to the beggar. But go, my crood friend, and see it yourself, and
give not credit to such idle tales, but make use of your own
excellent understanding."
"lean assure you, Sir/' said Sefton. "Protestants maintain
that su.ii deceptions are now confined to convents, or to the
FATHER OSWALD. %l&
most ignorant people, and that the Romish Church no longei
ventures to appeal to miracles in arguing with them."
" Does not Milner, the latest of our controvertists, appeal to
recent miracles wrought in England, and of which innumerable
witnesses were then living," answered Father Oswald gravely.
" Was not the glorious miracle wrought in the person of Mrs.
Mattingly, and in the house of the Mayor of Washington, wit-
nessed by thousand^, and proved by the sworn affidavits of both
Protestants and Catholics'.'"*
" J never even heard of it," said Sefton ; " I should like ex-
tremely to see the account of it."
" I can easily procure it lor you," answered the Father. " In
the true Church of Christ miracles must always be found until
the Word of Christ shall pass away. For in 'the true Church
will ever be found the true faith, and true believers to whom
Jesus has made this solemn promise in the most impressive
manner: 'Amen, amen, I say to you, he that believeth in me,
the works that I do, lie also shall do, and greater than these shall
he do.' "
" But that promise," replied Sefton, " was only for the first
ages of the Church, and when the words of our Saviour want-
ed confirming; of course I believe in the miracles of the New
Testament."
" But," said Father Oswald, " the solemn promise of Christ,
which I have just repeated to you, is absolute, and not limited
to time, place, or person. Miracles are one of the most striking
prerogatives of the true Church, because it is the voice of God
iittesting the truth ; and is intelligible equally to the wise and
'o the ignorant. I wish Protestants, who boast so much of their
:-elieving in Christ, would one day favour us with a simila"
jiroof of their faith. But they find' it more convenient to deny
:miracles altogether ; in this they show a little of the wisdom of
this world. "Tis easy to deny. The Pharisees denied the mira-
cles of Christ because they could not admit them without admit-
ting His doctrine ; or, when the evidence was too strong, they
attributed the wonder to the Devil. Here again we have a
glimpse of Protestantism in the Bible. There are some peo-
ple, we know, ' who will not believe if one rise again from the
dead. 1 "t
Sefton mused a little, and then said, " But this miracle, upon
which you lay so much stress, is wrought, as far as I can under-
stand it, on account of a saint, and must, if true, or if believed
* The reader shonM peruse the interesting pamphlet, published by Cas
serly & Sons, New York; under the title of "The Virgins of the Tvrol.'
t Luke xvi. 31.
24
"74 FATHEI OSWALD.
10 be true, necessarily promote image worship, anc. tlie interces-
sion of saints; now, Protestants assert there is no mediator bui
Jesus Christ ; the mediation of angels and saints being directly
contrary to the inspired Apostle."
" It is written in the book of Moses," said Father Oswald,
<: 'the Lord our God made a covenant with us in Horeb He
spoke to us face-to-('ace in the mount out of the midst of fire.
I was tli". mediator, and stood between the Lord and you at that
time, to show you His words.'* Here, then. we. have another
mediator between God and men ; and what is better still, St.
Paul acknowledges it : ' Why, then, was the law 1 It was set
because of transgressions .'.being ordained by angels in the
hands of a mediator.' "t
" But," said Sefton eagerly, " St. Paul said also, there is out
' one Mediator of God and men, the Man, Christ Jesus.' "
"Certainly; as you curtail the text," answered Father Os-
wald, " no doubt he does ; but give us the whole text, and com-
pare it with parallel texts, and then you will find no contradic-
tion, nor any support tor your sophistical argument. St. Paul
says of our Lord, ' He is a m^Untor of a, bcUir Testament,
which is established on better promises.'} Again: ' He is the
mediator of the New Testament, that, bit means of his death,
lor the redemption of those transgressions which were under
the former Testament, they that are called may receive the pro-
mise of eternal inheritance. ' And again: " You are come. ..to
Jesus, the mediator of the New Testament, and to the sprinkling
of blood, which speaketh better than that of Abel."
" I do not exactly see the application," said Sci'ton.
"However," continued Father Oswald, "it is clear from these
texts of the Apostle, that he considers Moses the mediator of the
Old Covenant or Testament, and Christ the mediator of the
New Testament, but in a far more perfect manner, inasmuch as
he established it in his own blood."
" I cannot see it yet," said Sefton triumphantly, " and I do
not thinlc you have got out of my difficulty at all."
" Well, wait a little," said Father Oswald patiently ; " let us
return to your text, but give it entire ; here it is in the New
Testament: ' For there is one God and one mediator of God
and men, the Man-Christ Jesus, iciio gave himself a, redemption
for all, a testimony in due times.'ll Christ indeed is the only
mediator of redemption ; Catholics are not such fools as to think
that saints or angels shed their blood for our redemption ; but
what has all this to do with the mediation of prayer, with inter-
* Deut. v. 2. t Gal. i:i. 19. J Il*b viii. C
Hub. ix. 15. 1 1 Tim. ii 5
FATHER OSWALD. y,S
region snch as we ask of the saints. It is really wonderful
i.ow blind Biblicals are! Why, it' they would read the first
words of this very chapter, they would find the sound principle
of the Catholic tenet established most firmly by the Apostles.'*
li How so, Sir i' 1 said Sefton.
" Look here," replied Father Oswald, turning to the place in
the book, "Does not the Apostle say, ' F desire, therefore, first of
all, that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and thanksgivings
l>e made for all men For this is good and acceptable in the
sight of God, our Saviour.'* Now, if the prayers and interces-
sions of men still on earth, are no ways derogatory to the me-
diatorship of Jesus Christ, but. on the contrary are good and
acceptable in the sight of Go;!, how much more so must be the
prayers and intercessions of the just made perfect?"
" Granting what you say to be perhaps in a certain degree
t:ne," replied Sefton, "still I cannot but think it strange policy
in the Roman Church to direct the devotion of her members to
Uie assembly of the saints."
" What is there of strange policy." siftd Father Oswald quiet-
ly, "in imploring the intercession of a good man, whether living
or dead ? I see nothing thnt is not conformable to sound common
sense and Holy Scripture."
" Perhaps in the sense you take it, Sir, and many well-educa-
ted Catholics also, there is not," replied Sefton, "but I am con-
vinced it is a very different thing with the common people: whv,
there are many of them who will really fall down and adore
any thing, and one can call them neither more nor less than
idolaters !"
Father Oswald held up hishands ! " Really, Mr. Sefton, I am
amazed at your assertion. Why, it scarcely merits an answer :
one of our little children might put you to the blush : no, no. my
good Sir, Catholics are not idolaters. There is a wide difference
between divine worship and honour paid to the saints. Divine
worship belongs to God alone; honour and reverence may be
paid to many of God's creatures, and the most ignorant and lowest
of Catholic common people know that Catholics do not p;iy di-
vine worship to the saints, or angels, or the Blessed Virgin, or
their images, whatever wise and learned Protestants may think
and assert to the contrary !"
"But why cannot people applv directly to God for whnl they
want, instead of asking it through the sainls T' persisted Seiton.
"Because the Catholic is humble, and deems the prayers of
ihe saints in Heaven more acceptable to God than his own weak
efforts," answered the Father; "thus the Council of Treat
* Tim. ii. 1.
S7D FATHER OSWALD.
teaches, that ' the saints who reign with Christ offer up their
prayers to God for men, and that it is good and useful to invoke
them, and in order to obtain from God blessings through his Son
Jesus Christ our Lord, n-ko alone is our Redeemer and Saviour,
>o have recourse to their prayers, help, and assistance.'* St.
Paul himself says: 'I beseech you that you help me in yew
prayers for me to God ;'t and St. John says : ' I make my prayer,
that thou maytst prosper as to all things, and be in health.';
Thus you see the Apostles, holy as they were, did not think they
were guilty of derogating from any of the divine perfections in
asking the inte; cession of, or in praying for others. Neither
are we guilty of derogating from the perfections of God, when
we ask one another's prayers ; why, then, should we be guilty ol
derogating from any of the divine perfections of God by apply-
ing to the intercession of his saints and friends in Heaven 1"
"But, Sir, you offer up Masses to the saints; is not that a
most curious and extraordinary thing V said Sefton; "does
not one constantly hear of the Mass of a martyr, the Mass of
this saint, the Mass of tRat saint; how can you possibly explain
that V
"If you had ever read the Council of Trent, Mr. Sefton, you
would have met with the answer to your difficulty there; it says
expressly 'Although the Church does sometimes offer up
Masses in honour and in memory of the saints, yet it is not to
them, but to God alone who has crowned them, that the sacrifice
is offered up; there the Priest does not say, I offer up this sac-
rifice to thee, Peter, or to thee Paul ; but to God Himself, giving
thanks to Him for their victories, imploring their patronage, that
they may vouchsafe to intercede for us in Heaven, whose mem-
orv we celebrate on earth.' "
" Is that really in the Council of Trent V said Sefton.
"Most certainly it is," answered the Father.
" It is rather strong," observed Selton.
" Yes," continued Father Oswald ; " every Altar in the cata
combs is, in truth, a monument to some sacred hero; hence, to
this day the relics of some martyrs must be deposited, in what
is called the. sepulckrum of every Catholic Altar at its consecra-
tion, and the centre of the Altar must, in every case, be of stone.
Thus, in the older Basilicas, and in many modern churches, the
great Altar is almost always in the form of a sarcophagus or se-
pulchral urn, and generally contains the ashes of some ancient
martyr: this practice of honouring and praying to the saints is
as ancient as Christianity, as is evident from the testimony of
* Cone Trid. Sess. 25. t Rom. xv. 30.
t 2 John iii. Cone. Trid. Sess. 22, c. 3
FATIIEll OSWALD. 277
Jie holy Fathers in all ages. St Dionysius, a disciple o( the
Apostles, affirms with the divine Scripture, ' that the prayers of
the saints are very profitable for us in this life, after this man-
ner when a man is inflamed with a desire to imitate the saints,
and, distrusting his own weakness, betakes himself' to an}'
saint, beseeching him to be his helper and petitioner to God Cor
him, he shall obtain by that means very great assistance." '*
"This refers to the very first ages of Christianity," said Sef-
ton sighing. " Certainly, I must own there is nothing like su-
perstition in what St. Dionysius says."
"To be sure there is not," said Father Oswald smiling; " i?
can be no superstition to believe that the saints desire our salva-
tion, because God desires it. It can be no superstition to be-
lieve that the saints know our thoughts and desires: the Scrip-
ture declaring that the repentance of the sinner on earth causes
joy among the blessed in Heaven. Hence, we have a right to
e.xpect much from the protection of those who, by the Spirit of
God, are declared to be appointed ministering spirits for our sal-
vation^ and who are again declared to have power, and be
rulers of nations.: It is no superstition to believe that the inter-
cession of the saints in Heaven will be of more avail towards
deciding the fate of men End nations than the intercession ot
len mortals would have been in deciding the late of a city, or
the intercession of one man, namely, Job, in deciding the fate of
his three friends."
"I never imagined," said Sefton musingly, " there was s<
much to be found in Scripture in favour of the intercession 01
saints."
u Nevertheless, it is perfectly true," observed Father Oswald.
" The Apostles' Creed also makes mention of the 'Communion
of Saints : : it is the nimh article of said creed. Pray, will
you tell me which Church it is that really, and not in words
alone, holds this 'Communion of Saints' in every sense '.!' the
vrord V
" Why, I suppose it is the Catholic Church," said Sefton
smiling; " .t looks like it."
"Yes; it is the Catholic Church, most undoubtedly," said
Father Oswald. " Protestants little know the advantages and
comforts they deprive themselves of by denying this article of
the very same creed which they themselves constantly repeat,
and which they have retained from the Catholics through all
the changes of their ritual ; they little know what they deprive
tnemsel ves of in refusing to make the friends of God their friends,
* Eccles. Hicrarch. c. 7, part 3, sec. 3.
f HG'O. i. ^ ; Apoc. ii. $ Gen. xviii.
27S FATHEH OSWALD.
those holy anil heroic beings whom we hope one day to meet
in Heaven, and along with them to praise God 1'or a whole
eternity."
Sel'ton was silent.
" There is a beauty and harmony in the ' Communion ot
Saints,' " continued Father Oswald, "ot" which heretics have
no idea; this communion is one of the many links which con-
nect the Church Militant on earth with the Church Triumphant
in Heaven, in the same manner as the Church suffering in Pur-
gatory is connected with the Church Militant on earth bv means
of the prayers and suffrages we continually offer for our depart-
ed fellow-members there."
" If the miracle of St. Januarius should really be a miracle
and actually take place," said Setton, " no doubt it would fully
confirm all you have said, and that too, in the strongest and most
undeniable manner; for God never would so far betray his crea-
tures as to work a miracle in support of error."
" Decidedly not," said Father Oswald, " it would be blas-
phemy to assert it. If the miracle of St. Januarius is a real
miracle; and if it actually takes place, 'the Communion of
Saints' is art article of faith, and the Roman Catholic Church,
as you designate it, is the only One, Holy, Catholic, and Apos-
tolic Church, which Jesus Christ founded on earth, and to which
he gave his solemn promise that he never would forsake her, or
suffer the gates of Hell to prevail against her. All I ask of you,
my dear friend," continued Father Oswald his fine counte-
nance lighting up with zeal and charity "is to go and judge
for yourself: go and see the miracle, and then come back and
tell me what you think of it."
Sefton felt much affected ; he took leave of Father Oswald
with strong emotion ; and alter he had reached his lodgings,
mused deeply for some hours on the conversation that had
passed; nor did he fail earnestly to implore light and assistance
from Heaven in his present agitation.
FATHER OSWALD. 279
CHAPTER XXX VII.
' What weight of ancient witness can prevail,
If private reason hold the public scale ?
But gracious God ! how well (lost Thou provide,
For erring judgments, an unerring guide !"
I)HYDEN.
Iv a lew days alter the conversation recorded in the last
chapter, Sefton set off for Naples ; he offered a place in his
travelling carriage to Monsignore Guidi, by whom the invita-
tion was accepted with much pleasure. The Bishop, with his
wife and children in the family coach, formed the rest of the
party. As they passed the rich vale of Kelletri, Sefton and the
Captain pleasantly recounted the incidents of their late adven-
ture in the surrounding chain of mountains. The peculiar iea-
tures of the Pontine Marshes, with only here and there a herd
of buffaloes, or a solitary sportsman with his gun, breaking the
lonely stillness of the scene, interested them much. Thev slept
at Terracina, and the Captain and Sefton climbed the magnifi-
cent rockv height which overhangs the town. Gaeta, Fondi.
Sessa, and Capua, were all explored with pleasure and interest.
The beautiful Bay of Naples was hailed with rapture by the
travellers as it burst on them in all its unrivalled gloVy at the
end of their journey, and they could not weary of gazing at il
from the windows of the " Crocelle," where they fixed their
abode. The first weeks of their visit to Naples seemed to fly
with incredible speed in the ever-varying novelties of that lively
Tapital. The whole time, from morning till night, was taken
iip visiting churches, museums, and shops, or in making excui-
Mons in the vicinity to Vesuvius, Pompeii, and Herculaneum.
One week was dedicated to the more distant 'expeditions oi
Pestum, Nocera, Salerno, Castellamare, and Soroento. Al
Nocera, they visited the shrine of St. Alfonso, and they saw and
conversed with several people who knew and remembered that
holy Bishop when living. A delightful day was passed at Ben-
evento, where there exists the celebrated triumphal arch, erected
in honour of Trajan, now called Porta Aurea, being used as
one of the gates of the city. Nola much interested them, par-
ticularly Sei'ton, who purchased there many valuable additions
to a collection of Etruscan vases which he was making; several
very curious ones being foui.d in the excavations in its vicinity.
Monsignore Guidi suggested (hey should go thence to Mugnano,
where he promised to show them many interesting things at lh<?
280 FATHER OSWALD.
shrine 01 St. Filomerut, and also many beautiful views in the
neighbourhood; they accordingly went, and the whole aspect ut
the country, and the splendid mountain scenery around Mugnano
strongly reminded Sefton of the beautiful views round the Cum-
berland and Westmoreland lakes: not unmixed with melan-
choly, for it recalled to his mind the first months after his mar-
riage which he had spent there with E;nma : his poor Emma!
irhom he had abandoned and left far from him. Monsignore
Gnidi conducted them to the pretty little church containing the
.shrine of St. Filomena, and to which numbers of devout people
from all parts of the world resort. The body of this young
martyr was discovered in the catacombs in Rome, and the num-
bers of extraordinary cures which have been wrought through
her intercession have rendered her shrine very celebrated: there
the blind have been restored to sigh,., and the cripple instantane-
ously cured. Seldom have any applied in, vain to this saint to
obtain relief from God in their necessities, whether spiritual or
temporal. Numbers of living witnesses attest her kindness and
her power. The wonders Sefton heard and saw in Mngnanc
recalled to his mind his visit to St. Winefred's Well, in Flint-
shire, and he could not help remarking to Monsignore Guidi
"that it was only amongst Catholics, and ia Catholic times,
that these extraordinary interpositions of a supernatural Provi-
dence in succouring the siclc and helpless were ever heard of."
" Yes," answered Monsignore Guidi ; " God does not work
miracles in favour of Protestants. Heretics have not the J'aiL'i
which merits and obtains these supernatural interpositions of a
kind and watchful Providence; but observe, my dear Sefton, "
continued he, " what fine religious and poetical justice there is
in the fact, that these two young and tender virgins, St. Wine-
fred and St. Filomena, who sacrificed their lives in defence ot
their faith and their chastity, should now be celebrated through
the whole world through that world where they were -when
living humbled and martyred and that there influence with
God, for whom they sacrificed every thing, should be testified to
us by their works of mercy and of love."
Sefton was silent, and mused on what he had seen and heard
; ; 11 the way back to Naples.
Arother excursion which gave the party great and varied
pleasure, consisted in sailing across the bright and sunny Bay
:o Capri, and its blue grotto, thence visiting the beautiful islands
of Procida and Ischia, and returning to Naples by Basia, Cuma,
and Puzzuoli. The days flew like hours in these lovely and
classic spots, which recalled to the gentlemen the strains ot
Virgil, and the lays of Silius, Martial, and Sannazarius, while
FATHER OSWALD. 291
the lucid softness and glassy smoothness of the sea, with its
beautiful bays and inlets, enchanted the whole parly.
At Ischia, they all ascended the Epomeus, or Monte San Ni-
cole, as it is general!} called, and their toils were amply re-
v. r arded by the extraordinary extent and beauty of the panora-
mic view around them. The Bishop was very anxious to ex-
amine the bathing house at Casamiocia, a charitable establish-
ment, where-the sick and destitute from Naples are brought, if
their maladies require the salutary baths of Ischia. These in-
valids are provided, free of expense, with food and lodging, in
an hospital near the bathing-house, for three weeks, and then
sent back to Naples at the expense of the establishment. Ever*
Mrs. Boren acknowledged, that nothing but an heroic Christian
charity could have founded and supported such an institution.
At Puzzuoli, amongst the many profane and sacred relics of an-
tiquity which they were shown, the exact site of the martyrdom
of St. Januarius was pointed out to them, and also that where
he was exposed to the fury of the wild beasts; as Sefton seemed
much interested on this subject, and asked the guide many
questions, the latter insisted on taking him to a convent of Capu-
chins, not far from Puzzuoli, where the stone on which thesainl
was decapitated, and which is marked with his blood, is still
preserved.
The Bishop and his lady made many objections to going out
of their way, especially as it was getting near dinner time,
"merely," as they observed, "to look at a stone, which was
most probably after all not genuine, and nothing more curious
in it than in any other stone." But Selton's curiosity had been
routed, and he was determined at all events to see what was to
be seen. Mensignore Guidi said he would willingly accompany
him. while the rest of the part}' drove on to Naples, to see aboul
their dinner. Sefton and his friend reached the convent by a
steep ascent, and examined at their leisure the slab which they
nad come to inspect. The Capuchins pointed out a part of it,
which is of a red colour, said to have been so stained by Ihe
blood of the martyr; and they assured Seiton, that Avhen tht
blood of St. Januarius liquefied in Naples, this stain became al
'.he same moment of a much deeper and more vivid red. Sefion
looked and felt very incredulous ; he did not, however, contra-
dict the good religious as he would have done in former days,
but contented himself with saying. " that he should return ami
judge for himself on one of the days that they asserted HwouKl
take place." He had learnt from experience^ that bold den iul
does not produce conviction, either in the speaker or the listener ;
tie.M'd'is, he had determined to examine the whole affair of lif
282 FATHER OSWALT).
miracle with great circumspection, and he was determine'! t*
keep to his resolution. During their drive back to Naples, Set-
ton was so silent, that Monsignore Guidi at length, took out his
office book, and was on the point of beginning his devotions,
when Sefton exclaimed, " I had no idea till now that there was
uiiy thing known about this Saint Januarius; I think the guide
said he was martyred under Dioclesian V
i " Yes," answered Monsignore Guidi; "his martyrdom took
. place on the l)th of September, in the year 305; he was then
Irmly thirty-three years of age ; he was decapitated, as you have
heard. Immediately after his death, his body was carefully
buried, and some portion of his blood was put at the same time
int) two small bottles, M'hich are still preserved, as are also his
relics; it is now more than fii'teen hundred years since, and the
blood is, generally speaking, quite hard from its great age, but
whenever it is brought into the presence of the reiic of his head,
it becomes perfectly liquid, and in that consists the miracie,
which you have no doubt heard mentioned. It will take place
in a lew days, and 1 trust you will be present at it."
" 1 shall certainly go and see what is to be seen," answered
Sefton; "but as to its being a miracle, that is quite another
thing : you will never get me to believe that, Monsignore ; it is
all a trick, you may depend upon it, and from what I have heard
an-rl read, a very bungling trick too.''
"If a trick," replied Monsignore Guidi, "it is very odd it
should never have been found out during so long a period r.s
fifteen hundred years and more; notwithstanding the numbers
of people who have written against it, who have denied it, whc
have derided it, who have insulted it, there is no one who has
been able to prove how the trick is performed."
" Oh ! the priests take care of that," said Sefton ; " it is theii
interest to keep the people in ignorance, and not to have it pro-
perly examined into."
"Then you assert," said Monsignore Guidi, "that all the
individuals, clerical as well as secular, who have had this blooa
in their care for more than fifteen hundred years, have been and
are, a set of imposters and rascals, and that in ail that time
there lias not been one honest man amongst them: rather a
sweeping assertion, methinks ! a greater miracle, truly, than the
liquefaction of the blood itself."
'Well, however," said Sefton, looking a little foolish, "I
make no doubt if the tiling were properly examined into by
some clever chemist, it could all be explained and accounted foi
on natural and philosophical principles."
" It has been so examined by many able chemists and learned
FATHER OSWALIJ. 283
men," said Moris-ignore Guidi, "and especially in modern limes
by a very celebrated Neapolitan chemist.' 1
"Oh! those were all Catholics; I would not give a fig for
such testimony," said Sefton hastily.
" Indeed!" said Monsignore Guidi somewhat surprised at his
friend's warmth, 1; are they, too, all scoundrels and rascals 1"
Sefton bit his lip. "I would much prefer the testimony of
x>me unbiassed English or French chemist," observed he.
"You are net aware, then," said the Prelate, "that it has
been examined by a countryman of your own 1"
" No; who might that be V
" Sir Humphrey Davy."
" Sir Humphrey Davy ! Really. I was not in the least awanj
of ii ; and what said he to it V
" He said it was impossible to account for it by natural
means." answered Monsignore Guidi.
' Really !"
"Yes," continued the Prelate, " that celebrated chemist ex-
amined it with the greatest minuteness and rigour. He was
particularly struck with the different manner in which the lique-
faction takes place at different times, the same natural causes
existing around it; he was particularly struck with the lique-
faction frequently occurring at periods when the external acci-
dents of lime, place, heat, and cold around it, were, chemically
and philosophically speaking, in diametrical opposition to its
liquefying at all ; and its frequently remaining perfectly hard
r.nd dry. when, according to natural causes, it was tnosl likely
it should liquei'y."
" But," said Sefton, " what is the use of its liquefying at all 7
what is the use of such a miracle taking place at all. supposing
it even to be a miracle ] I ask that simple question."
" You might as well ask what use there was in Christ's walk-
ing on the water, or in raising Lazarus from the dead. Miracles
are wrought in confirmation of the true faith. This standing
miracle speaks volumes to the learned and to the unlearned,
who know full well that the Catholic church is the only one in
which miracles have ever existed, do now exist, and will, ?<-
cording to the promises of Jesus Christ, exist to the end of m
world. St. Januarius shed his blood in confirmation of the
true faith, and his blood still liquefies to attest in the most unde-
niable manner that the Catholic faith is the same faith now as
when he expired in its. defence."
"Then he was put to death because he was a Catholic V
said Sefton thoughtfully.
" Certainly he. was *
2H4 FATHER OSWALD.
" But how came Naples to be particularly selected tor the
performance of this alleged miracle."
"Because the saint was a citizen of Naples," answered Mon-
signore Guidi, 'He was born there on the 21st of ApVil, in
the year 27'2, unier the emperor Aurelian. About two years
and a half before his death, he was consecrated Bishop of Bene-
vento, and it was in consequence of his ardent charity in visit-
ing and assisting the persecuted Christians in Puzzuoli that he
was imprisoned under the Roman governor, Timotheus, and
sent along with others to Nola, which we lately visited. There,
in consequence of the edicts of Dioclesian, he was condemned
to a fiery furnace, which, by a miraculous interposition of God,
did not injure him. After various other torments, he, with other
Christians, was condemned to accompany on loot the car of
Timotheus from Nola to Puz/.uoli, a distance of thirty miles.
Tiia sufferings of these poor persecuted Christians must have
been very great."
' Indeed they must," said Sefton compassionately. " I see
now how he came to be martyred at Puzzuoli."
" The day after his arrival there, he was exposed to the fury
of a number of famished bears, but these creatures, forgetting
their natural ferocity, lay down at his feet, licking and caressing
(hem ; this so enraged the Roman consul, that he ordered Sr.
Januarius and his companions to be beheaded, which order was
immediately executed."
" I certainly had not the most distant idea so much WES known
about him," said Sefton, " it is always interesting to gain a
/cnovvledge of facts."
By this time they had reached Naples, and joined the rost of
the party.
The first Sunday of May arrived in due time, and Sefton
accompanied Monsignore Guidi to the Church of St. Januarius,
the scene of the miracle. The Bishop declined going, excusing
himself on account of the heat : the Captain declared he would
not miss seeing it on any account ; and Mrs. Boren and Lavinia
went out of idle curiosity to see a sight. The little chapel, rich
in beauty and treasures, in which the head and blood of St.
Januarius are kept, is on the right going up the cathedral, and
is called the " Tesaro." The chaplains who officiate there are
rhosen from the most ancient and respectable Neapolitan fami-
lies. These clergymen also have charge of the relics of St.
Januarius: but not the keys of the depository where they are
kept. One of the keys is '-pt by the Cardinal Archbishop ol
Naples, and the other by ft chosen body of secular noblemen,
who each time the depository is opened, depute one of thcii
FATHER OSWALD. SJ85
number to be present. Monsignore Guidi was acquainted with
several of the chaplains, and they, with the urbanity which
characterizes them, introduced him and his friends within the
rails of the sanctuary, and placed Sefton close to the altar, where
ne could see and examine every thing to his entire satisfaction.
Notwithstanding all his efforts to subdue it, he could no!, help
feeling a certain degree of anxiety, and a sensation of awe for
which he could not account. The church was crowded to ex-
cess; a circumstance that surprised Sefton very much: but what
still more surprised him, was the evident devotion and sincerity
of the people. At length the Cardinal Archbishop's chaplain
on the part of his eminence, and the deputy nobleman on the
part of his body, opened the depository where the relics are kept,
and the head chaplain of the Tesaro took out the two small
glass bottles which are both fixed in a frame, and which contain
the blood of the martyr ; they examined it very carefully, and
then exhibited it to be examined also by the people. Sefton
observed it quite near, and saw that one of the bottles was about
three parts lull of a hard, dark substance, like congealed blood,
and though the priest who held it turned the phial up side
down several times before his eyes, the blood remained as hard
and as firm as if ic had been part of the bottle: in the other
and smaller phial there seemed to be a small quantity of the
dry blood, which stained its sides. The blood in its hard state
was then placed on the right side of the altar, and the relic of
the head of the saint, which is enclosed in a silver bust, being
taken from its depository was placed on the left side of the
same altar. The head chaplain, the deputy nobleman, the assis-
tants, and the people, then recited aloud three times the Apos-
tles' Creed, and the Miserere Psalm: the blood was again ex-
amined and Ibund to be perfectly hard; the Creed was then
recommenced; Se'ton had his eyes fixed on the solid blood,
when suddenly, in less than a second, he beheld the hard mass
dissolve and liquefy like a piece of ice before an intense fur-
nace, he turned deadly pale, and then all his blood seemed to
rush to his temples, and he hid his face in his hands. Mrs.
Boren stood in mute astonishment for some time, and then ex-
claimed, " How very strange !"
" Indeed it is, Mamma !" rejoined Miss Lavinia ; " I wonder
how it is done."
"By the power of the Almighty," whispered Mon-signote
Guidi.
The chaplain made a sign, and in a moment the joyful notes
of the " Te Deum Laudarnus" pealed through the vaulted do*ne
of the sanctuary, the voices of thousands resounded through H>
286 FATHER OSWALD.
roof, proclaiming the miracle ; and in tones of the deepest
energy and pathos, exclaiming. "All hail to the true and only
faith! all hail to the Catholic religion! May the true
faith live for ever !"*
Sefion pushed his way through the crowd, and left the church.
He returned several times during the eight days which the
miracle continues to take place, to examine the state of the
blood, and to see this occurrence at different times: sometimes
he observed the blood was diminished in quantity, and some-
times increased so much that the bottle was entirely full; some-
times it was perfectly liquid, and of a deep and rich red colour ;
at other times it was hard and dark. One of the days he rode
to the convent at Puzzuoli to observe the colour of the stain
upon the stone, as he had promised to do, and he commissioned
Monsignore Guidi to note the exact lime the liquefaction took
place that morning in Naples. While he was looking at the
stone, he observed the stain of blood become evidently of a
deeper red ; and on taking Monsignore Guidi's report, he found
that the time the liquefaction occurred in Naples corresponded
exactly to the moment in which he had seen the change take
place in the stone at Puzzuoli; and he spared no pains in ex-
amining every circumstance connected with the miracle with the
greatest minuteness and attention. About the middle of May,
having seen every thing worth attention in and about Napli.-s,
Sefton and Monsignore Guidi returned to Rome, while the Bishop
and his family embarked in the steam vessel ibr Marseilles m
their route back to England.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
" Who by repentance is not satisfied,
Is not of heaven, rior earth." SIUKSPEAKE.
W.HEN Sefton arrived in Rome, he found a letter in the post-
office from Emma; on opening it, he was surprised to see it
dated from Weetwood, the seat of General Russell. In it
Emma informed him that her uncle having teen suddenly seized
with an alarming illness, he had sent express for her, and that
* " Viva la santa fedo '. ecco la sinta fec.'c ! Ecco la fede Catolic* !
V'rala santa fede '"
FATHER OSWALD. !&'
.-onsequently she hnd immediately gone to him. and was then ai
Weetwood, employed in nursing him ; she requested Edwcrd's
permission to liave the children with her, entreating an early
and favourable answer. Sefton sighed as he re-folded the letter,
for it had been some weeks in Rome, and he was sure this in-
i'oluntary delay in answering it must have given her much
anxiety ; he was greatly annoyed, too, at the idea of her having
had to make the journey from Devonshire to Weetvvood ale no,
though he was painfully aware he had no one but himself to
blame. He immediately wrote to his wife, expressing his ap-
probation of her sojourn with the General, but with much of his
former pertinacity in maintaining what he considered his right
as a father, forbidding her to think of moving the children fiom
the cottage in Devonshire, an '. desiring her to remain with her
uncle until she heard i'rorn him again. Seiton remained about
a fortnight longer in Rome, and then left it with heartfelt regret.
Who ever left Rome without regret! there is in this city of the
soul, something which imperceptibly intwines itself around the
heart and feelings, and no one who has felt its mysterious influ-
ence can leave it without sorrow, or unsoothed by a secret hope
of again re-visiting its eternal walls. Seiton pursued his travels
along the sliores of the Adriatic, passing by Venice, on his
route to Paris. He remained there a few days, and one of the
first things he did was to go to the hospital where he had been so
long confined by sickness to inquire for Sister Angela: but he
was Informed Sister Angela was no longer in Paris, as she had
gone with some other sisters to found a convent of the order in
America. One day, as Seiton was wandering about Paris, lie
entered a small retired church, and while examining the pictures
and architecture, he observed a young man closely engaged in
a confessional : he had some vague idea that he md formerly
seen or known that person, but though he tried to recoHcct who
it might be, he could not fix the identity. Se!ton was, however,
sln.ick with his demeanour, and retiring behind a pillar to ob-
serve him further, he saw him bend lowly down, and beat his
breast with unfeigned humility: shortly the penitent rose; a
glow of fervour shone on his serene brow, his eyes were humbly
cast towards the ground, and the big tear trickled down his
emaciated cheek. Seiton instantaneously recognized Le Sage ;
hut, oh! how changed! When Sei'lon was in Paris before, he
had o:ten observed a gloomy melancholy spread over the coun-
tenance of this young man, even in the midst of the gayest
scenes; he li ad observed the sudden start and rapid change ol
features, the knitted brow, the supercilious scowl, the haggard
eye, the curled lip, the convulsive quiver of the muscles of his
288 FATHER OSWALD.
mouth, the rapid motions of his head, the hurrid gait, and many
other traits, that by fits betrayed a heart ill at ease, and the war-
ring passions of an agitated soul. Now it seemeJ quite other-
wise. Seilon observed in him a placid, though care-worn coun-
tenance, a calm brow, a chastened eye, a smile of contentment
on his '.ips, a firm, manly step, and a meek, humble demeanour,
that bespoke the joy and peace which then possessed him.
Le Sage withdrew to a retired altar, and there poured cut his
soul, in fervent, but silent thanksgiving to his God and Saviour.
Sel'ton looked at him with intense interest for some time, un-
willing to interrupt the ardour of his devotions. At length
Le Sage rose, and Sefton suddenly presented himself before him.
Le Sage started, as if he had seen an inhabitant of the grave
rise up before his astonished sight, for he thought Sc!ton had
been slain in the dreadful affray on the Boulevards; but being
soon satisfied that his friend was still amongst the living, he
clasped his hands together, and in a low, but audible voice,
thanked God, who had so mercifully relieved his conscience
from a most oppressive burden, for he had ever reproached him-
self as the murderer of his friend, and the chief cause of his
eternal perdition. He took Sefton by the arm and led him out
of the church. For a while the friends walked on arm in arm,
in silence. Sefton was lost in astonishment, and many subjects
were rapidly revolved in those lew moments in Le Sage's mind,
who at length broke silence : " My dear Sefton !" said he, " I
know not what you may say or think of me : perhaps you will
contemn and despise me, but it matters not. I feel I have an
imperative duty to perform, and no false pride, no selfish leeling,
shall hinder me from doing it."
" What do you mean, my dear friend 1" exclaimed Sefton still
more astonished.
" Listen to me, Sefton." said Le Sage earnestly ; " I have
deeply injured you, and my conscience tells me that I am bound
to repair the injury to the best of my power. Alas ! have I not
been guilty of the blackest hypocrisy, by boasting of that im-
piety which the firm conviction of my soul belied 1 Towards
you I haw; acted as the basest villain, or rather as an envious
demon, for I sought, and, alas ! perhaps, I too well succeeded
in tearing asunder that slender tie, which, till then, had held
you to Christianity. I introduced you to the worst of wretches,
to the very scum of society; and if I have not succeeded in.
hurrying your soul into perdition, it is a special merrv of God ;'
then, letting go Sefton 's arm. he paused a moment, and droop-
ing his head in confusion, while deep regret was depicted on
his expressive countenance, he continued^ "now, Selton, re-
FATHER OSWALD. 289
proach me as you please, call me wretch, hypocrite, vi..ain,
demon, cast me off", spurn me from you; I have deserved all
your contempt only tell me you forgive me, and I shall then
die content."
Seilon was deeply affected by this unexpected burst of an
humbled and contrite heart ; but he felt most intensely from the
inward reproach of his own conscience; if a passing acquaint-
ance, a stranger almost, could condescend to such humiliation
in reparation of crimes, which he felt to be more than mutual,
what reparation was not due for the injuries inflicted on an in-
nocent wife. At length, summoning courage, he took Le Sage's
hand, and in broken accents said, " Let us think no more of the
past; you I we have both acted foolishly nay wickedlv.
We must look to God lor pardon. You are, I perceive, a changed
man. Perhaps, you have already made your peace with the
Almighty. I loo think differently on many points to what I did
when you last saw me ; but will you not now tell me how so
wonderful a change in you was brought about ?"
"Willingly," replied Le Sage sighing. By this time they
had reached his house. " Will you not enter V said he. " My
lather and sister are, alas! now no more: I am its only in-
habitant."
Selton entered, and when they were seated in the solitary
saloon, which he had, within less than one short, circling year,
seen lull of life, and gaiety, and beauty all, all now gone
Le Sage told him all that had happened since they last parted.
" On the last of those dreadful days," said he, " which you,
my dear Sefton, have too much reason to remember, I was dan-
gerously wounded and carried off the Boulevards by my detes-
I'able associates. I was very nearly dying, and in those awful
moments the fear of death recalled to my mind my early princi-
ples of faith, and also the happy and blessed death-bed upon
which I had witnessed my excellent mother expire. All her
admonitions came then with lull force to my remembrance, and
were as so many daggers to my heart. 1 asked to see a priest,
but my companions got about me. In vain I called for the suc-
cours of religion; while they, heartless wretches, lest a priest
hould reach me, took it in turn, day and night, to walch about
me. Yes ! they prohibited every one but known infidels from
approaching me. My father and sister had fled from Paris, and
I soon after was told of his death; then it was I gave way to
despair. Oh Gcd ! I cannot recal that time, and ail the wild
desperation of my raging blasphemies and deep despair without
my blood running cold in my veins; but God at length had
mercy on me, though I did not deserve aught but chastisemenl
25*
jyU FATHKrt OSWALD.
at his hand. An old and thithfn! servant of my parents got by
stealth to my bedside. I whispered in his terrified ear, : ' Bring
me a priest, that he may .see a la Is? Christian die in despair.'
The old man shuddered. I saw the shudder, but when the priest
came, I placed myself like a child in his hands, and pouring
out my whole soul, with the sincere contrition of a true penitent,
I humbly sought lor mercy, and through the heavenly aid and
consolation of the minister, I trust, I was reconciled lo my
Creator. The agonies of despair were succeeded bv the sweet-
ness of the most balmy peace. My vile infidel seducers were
driven from the house, my poor little orphan sister returned, and
I slowly recovered. Alas! a few months after she went tc
Heaven, and I am now alone in the world.'' Le Sage dashed a
tear from his eye as he finished his touching narrative. " You
see, my dear friend." added he more cheerfully, " the immense
importance of sound principles early instilled into the minds of
youth, and the lasting impression they make even amid the
greatest temptations and trials of a wicked world. Believe me,
Sefton, no religion but the Catholic religion is capable of stand-
ing such tests, nor of converting and restoring to the peace and
happiness of penitence even the most hardened sinners; there
must be a divine foundation for the religion which can accom-
plish that."
Sefton sighed. "Tell me," said he, " do you know anything
of a Monsieur La Harpe ; he was very kind to me, and suc-
coured me when I also was wounded in that detestable affray :
he went with me afterwards to Switzerland, and I have in vain
inquired for him since rny return to Paris."
" He has changed his lodgings," answered Le Sage ; " but I
will accompany you to his present abode."
They went, and found the excellent old man as usual, in the
midst of his books. He was overjoyed to see Sefton again, and
the three friends did not separate till Scfton had made them both
premise that they should all meet again in England in less thai
a month from that time.
FATHER OSWALD. 291
CHAPTER XXXIX.
" Alas . or those that love, and may not blend in prayer."
jlEMANS.
ANXIOUSLY, for many long weeks, did Emma expect an an-
swer to the letter which Sefton had found in the Roman Post-
tiftice. The delay made her very uneasy. At length the \vished-
!br answer arrived ; but when she had read it, all her hopes
were dashed from her. The positive refusal to grant her request,
to have the children with her, opened her eyes to the full extent
of her loneliness, and she clasped her hands in silent sorrow.
From Edward's prolonged absence in Italy, she had almost
begun to nourish hopes that he was becoming more reconciled
to the Catholic religion, or at least that he would allow her to
practice it in peace, and that a reconciliation between Ihetn
would, by degrees, be brought about; but the lone of the letter
the had just received, seemed, in common prudence, to forbid
iier any longer to indulge these fond and flattering hopes. She
went to her uncle's room, and placed it silently in his hands; but
Ilie air of grief and resignation with which she did so, went tu
the General's heart. When he had read it, he retured it to her
with a desponding shake of the head
" I do not like it, indeed, my dear niece," said lie ; " but pul
your trust in Providence ; God will not forsake you, ' He tern
jiers the wind to the shorn lamb.' "
" My poor children!" exclaimed Emma in a tone of heart-
rending sorrow. "Oh! if Edward would but return; if J
could but see him once again ! . . . but God's will be done."
" God grant," said the General, " that I may soon be on my
legs again, and I'll be off to Italy myself, after this renegade
husband of your's ; by Jupiter, I will !"
The General wns just recovering from a pleurisy and inflam-
mation of the lungs, and was still too weak to leave his bed
This last grief of Emma's gave him great annoyance, and he
used every effort tc keep up her spirits, but in vain ; her lieait
sunk, notwithstanding her efforts to the contrary, with more de-
spondency than ever. She was perfectly resigned to the will ol
God, but she felt as if nil her hopes of happiness in this world
were gone forever. About three weeks alter she had received
lhat painful letter, as she was one day listlessly sitting in one <>i
the deep oaken recesses of the spacious saloon, her head leaning
on her hand, and grieving at the absence of those she loved, shr
heard some one near pronounce her name; she turned, and be-
292 FATHER OSWALD.
held hei husband by hci side; in an instant she was in his arras,
lie held her so long and so tightly to his beating heart that it
seemed as though he would, in that embrace, redeem two long
years of separation; at length, tears came ic his relief, and he
exclaimed in impassioned and broken accents: " My own. my
beloved, my long-lost Emma !"
" Mercif il God !" said she, looking up and fixingher eloquen;
ga/e on Edward's eyes as though she would read her late in
'.hem ; but all she could gather 1'rom their speaking cxnression
was ardent love, mingled wi:h poignant regret. ' You love me
vet;" said she, sinking into a seat, and turning as pale aa
death.
" I do most ardently, most tenderly; I have ever loved you,
even when you imagined me alienated from you; nay, the very
severity which I have shown towards you sprung from the most
sincere affection. I sought nothing but your happiness, both for
time and for eternity ; not a day has passed since we parted that
[ have not thought of you ; prayed for you flattered myself that
my prayer would be heard; that the day was not far distant
when we should again be uniied in one faith and love." He
'.hen drew her miniature from his bosom, and continued: "This
I have ever worn nearest to my heart, and wept over it daily ;
twice has it been stolen from me by the hand of violence; twice
nas it been restored to me bv a mysterious dispensation of Provi-
dence. I took it as a token that my long-cherished hope would
not be frustrated."
" How kind is that in you, Edward ! My poor prayers have
been daily offered at the Throne of Mercy for the same object ;
alas! 1 fear I am unworthy to be heard I have always hoped,
and will still hope, even against hope."
Whilst she was uttering these last words her eye was intense-
ly fixed on the medal of Our Lady, which hung exposed on the
breast of her husband. When he drew out of his bosom the
miniature, he had incautiously brought out the medal with it.
" Ah !" exclaimed Sefton, "you are gazing on that toy; it is
mining but a keepsake given to me by one to whom I am deep-
.v indebted. Sister Angela, who wrote to you, gave it to me
when I left Paris, and bade me wear it for her sake. It was
very providential that I accepted of it; for, see this deep inden-
'iire in it, it was made by the stiletto of an assassin, who aimeo
a deadly blow at my heart."
Mrs.' Sefton shuddered with horror: "Oh! my love!" said
she faintly, " and you never to'd me of this fearful danger."
" There was no need, dearest, to give you useless pain, I
have many other adventures lo tell you, but first let me hear
PATHEK OSWALD. iR?J
from your own lips the sentence which must decide my fate and
/our own."
"All poor Emma's doubts returned, and her heart seemed as
though ii would buist from her side. At this moment the Gen-
eral, whose room was next to the saloon, hearing the voice of n>
stranger, called loudly for his niece.
" It is your uncie." said Edward; "poor man ! take me tj
him," and he followed her to the General's bed-side. The
surprise of the General was extreme, and his reproaches tr
Selton, loud and just. At length, Edward contrived in some
degree to appease him ; besides, it is difficult to be apgry long',
at the moment of the return of those we really love. Sefton.
remained at Weetwood till the evening, and then, telling his
wile that business of importance required his presence at home,
he left them. Emma was lost in perplexity and doubt : he had
lold her that he had seen the children well at the cottage ir.
Devonshire, but *he did not dare to enquire more; she seemed
fenrful of losing the little transitory gleam of happiness his pre-
sence gave her, by any question which might dissipate her illu-
sion. It was another fortnight before her uncle was able If.
leave his bed, and during all that lime, no day passed in which
he did not spend some hours at Weetwood ; he seemed much
pre-occupied, and he never even mentioned the children, reli-
gion, or his future prospects. He had frequent conversations
with the General, and Emma observed, that after these conver-
sations, her uncle was more serious and thoughtful than usual ;
but all she could draw from him were vague hints to be resigned
and prepare for the worst. Emma was, consequently, very un-
happy; each day she counted the hours which would probab y
elapse, from the time Sefton luft her, till his probable return ;
each day she hoped he would give her some explanation, and
each day she was disappointed. Edward observed, with deep
regret, that she was much thinner and paler than when he had
abandoned her, and that her vivacity was quite gone; she wa
as kind and as gentle as ever, but there was a deep shade V
melancholy in her soft blue eye, which had not previously ex-
isted there : he knew too well it was his own fault."
Oneday, while they were sitting together on the terrace before
the house. Edward said to her abruptly, "Emma, your uncle
has been ordered to try change of air, and he has consented to
spend a week at Sefton Hall ; he will go to-morrow, and you
must accompany him; and there," added he with a sigh, ' 1
must hear you finally pronounce upon our future happiness ex
misery ; I must hear you pronounce from your own lips, whethei
294 FATHER OSWALD.
we are to live together in peace and love, or whether \ve are to
L)e separated for ever."
" Merciful heaven '." exclaimed Emma with the deepesi
emotion. "Cruel Edward why have you returned to awaken
anew my love for you why have you returned to tear open ail
(lie deep griefs of my wounded heart?' 1
Scfton answered not ; but with a stern glance hurried from
her. She burst into an agony of grief, and ardently prayed tc
God to give her strength to stand firm in the approaching trial.
Th;U day was spent in tears, and grief, and anguish. The fol-
lowing morning, Edward came for- them, and accompanied them
to Seiton Hail ; he seemed much rgitated. Emma scarcely
dared to think, much less trust herself to speak; everything a)
Se':u>n seemed to her in the same state as when her husbnm"
had abandoned her; her sitting-room, and her (lowers, seemed
as though she had never left them : what sweet and bitter asso-
ciations did they not recal to her mind; and then the though)
thht perhaps she should in. a few hours, renounce this beautiful
happy home lor ever! It was a delicious day in July, arid the
air all balm; in the evening, Edwr.nl led her into the grove
where there was a bower, adorned and entwined around with
rich clustering lilacs and laburnum 1 -; he placed her on a bench
by his side : " Now," said he in a voice tremulous with emotion,
" I ask you, Emma, for your final decision. Will you return to
the Protestant religion, and renounce Catholicity 1 Take time
to answer, for your late and mine depend upon it."
Emma paused a moment; and then said in a low. bu 1 . distinct
voke. in tones of the most poignant grief, "I cannot,-- 1 will
not renounce Catholicity : I will live and die in the, one, true,
anil only faith ; " but I shall not live long," added she faintly,
" after my heart is broken." Edward compressed his lips : " And
t\o'w," said he in a voice chor.ked wi:h emotion, and drawing
he'r to his heart, " my dearest Emma, I must now tell you my
irrevocable decision. We will both, with the grace of God, live
arid die in the same religion, and our children shall be brought
up Catholics."
" Howl" said Emma scarcely breathing.
" Because," answered Edw:.rd, ' both their father and mot he i
an; Catholics."
" You, Edward." murmured Emma.
"Yes! I have become a Catholic like yourself," answered he.
<: Gracious God be praised!' exclaimed Emma; "Thou
hast at length heard the long, the earliest, the tearful prayer ol
thy unworthy handmaid: " but oh ! Edward, my own love, how
could you try me so V said she in a voice scarcely articulate.
FATHER OSWALD. 295
He prevented her adding more, by imprinting on her pale
.ips, a long and fervent kiss; he kept her fragile form in his
;irms, till her emotions had a little subsided, and theii complete
reconciliation was soon maae. ' Now," said Edward, with the
greatest tenderness, " you are truly the tried wife of my bosom,
and I will take you to our children, that we may give them our
blessing together."
He led or rather supported her to the house, and opening a
door on the right-hand side of the hall, he whispered io her,
" Let us first thank God for His unspeakable mercies to us, and
then I will place the children in your arms." He drew aside a
curtain, and Emma was surprised to find they were in a l.-eau-
fii'ul little chapel, richly hung with crimson and gold drapery :
the rays of the evening sun, tinged with the varied colours ol
ihe painted glass window, played on its marble pavement. The
Messed sacrament was exposed in a rich expository, and Failiei
Oswald, in his vestments, was kneeling at the foot of the altar;
while the General and the little children were ranged around.
Kmma sunk on her knees, and covered her face with her hands :
Edward knelt by her side: the feelings of all present were loo
powerful to be described. Father Oswald intoned ihe "Te
Deum Laudamus," in thanksgiving for the signal benefits con-
ferred upon the family, and immediately strains of so't tnusjc
were heard, while the melodious voices of some juvenile cho-
risters swelled its strains and sung also the Litanies of the
Blessed Virgin, and the " Tantum ergo Sacramentum." Fi-
nally, Father Oswald, with feelings of the strongest piety and
gratitude to God, gave the benediction of the Blessed Sacramem
to the grateful and kneeling group around him, and thus con-
duded this interesting ceremony.
CHAPTER XL.
My thoughtless youth was winged with vain desires.
My manhood, Ion? misled by wandering fires, >
Followed fal.se lights, and when iheir glimpse was gone,
My pride struck out new sparkles of her own ;
Uood life be now my ta>k : <v clout. ts are done." DRTDEN.
THE next morning, when the emotions of the happy circle al
Sefton Hall were somewhat subsided, Edward assembled his
family and guests in tlie library, and gave them a detailed ay-
WU FATHER OSWALD.
count of his travels and adventures ; at the recital of which, tht
auditors were by turns affected by tear, joy, delight, admiratior
and gratitude. Harriet, who had witnessed the benediction the
preceding evening, had been delighted with the whole ceremony .
but the six handsome candlesticks which adorned the altar par
tictilarly struck her lancy. She wished there had been a seventl
to make up the exact number of the Apocalype; when the sucl
den thought came across her mind, that the absence of the seventl
might be a warning to herself. She easily recognized in the six
Mr. and jMrs. Seiton with their four children : but the seventk
where was ill and she trembled lest her '' candlestick haC
'hean removed," and resolved to consult Father Oswald on the
lirst occasion about its meaning, and how she might have it re-
placed. She now listened with absorbing interest to the account
her brother gave of his whole progress in the search of the true
lakh, of all ins doubts and diliiculties, and of his having beer,
at length convinced of its existence in the Catholic Church, by
seeing the miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of St. Janua-
rius in Naples; and of his finally embracing it in Rome, during
the fortnight he remained there after his visit to Naples.
" Yes," said Father Oswald ; " I had the unspeakable happi-
ness of receiving him into the true Church, and immediately
after that J returned to England. I should have called on you
: long ago," added he, addressing Mrs. Sel'ton, " had not your hus-
band wished to convince himself beyond a doubt of the truth ot
your unbiassed sincerity, and surprise you with the beautiful
'little chapel which he has so tastefully fitted up for you."
Emma smiled. " It is all past now," said she, casting an
Affectionate glance at Edward,
"Egad! Sefton," said the General, <: you stood along sieiio
of it! I suppose you would never have surrendered unless St.
Januarius had brought up his artillery, and blown up your citadel."
"Was it really the miracle, brother, that convinced you al
last!" said Harriet somewhat timidly.
" Yes/' answered Seiton ; " God could not work a miracle in
confirmation of error, and I clearly saw the finger of God at-
testing his acceptance of the profound veneration which Catho-
lics pay to the images and relics of his saints. Like St. Paul,
the scales of error and prejudice fell from my eyes; ' I saw
and I believed.' "
"Or, rather," said Father Oswald smiling, "like St. Thomas.
' because Hum hast seen thou hast believed. Blessed are they
who have not seen and have believed.' "
Harriet sighed, and said half aloud, " 1 wish I could hnve
secu also."
FATHER OSWALD.
"What astonishes me most," continued Sefton, "is, that al
loubts and difficulties have been swept away like a mist from
my mind ; I submit, with the greatest ease, my understanding to
the dictates of faith, and readily believe every 'dogma of our
holy religion. I discover daily, new beauties, new relations,
new connexions between the several articles, all combining in
one harmonious and magnificent whole."
"It" is the gift of faith," observed Father Oswald, "whHi
enlightens the understanding to behold truth in its naked sim-
plicity, inflames the heart with an ardent affection for it, and
strengthens the will to make the voluntary homage of our whole
soul to the infallible word. But, believe me, this first great gilt
af God is more easily obtained at His hands by humble prayer,
nd an entire submission to the guidance of His Holy Spirit^
than by a proud reliance on our own intellectual powers in the
war of controversy."
" I feel the full justice of your remark," replied Sefton. " As
long as I relied on my own resources I never could form a fixed
opinion on any subject: faith, I now find, was out of the ques-
tion. To-day I was urged to the very threshold of faith ; to-
morrow I was on the brink of infidelity; but, blessed be Gcd !
I am no longer ' tossed to and fro by every wind of doctrine :' I
nave iourid the solid rock, on which I can anchor my frail bark
in security from every storm."
" Remember, my dear Sir,' ; said Father Oswald, " that as the
gift of faith is a grace which God willingly grants to the humble,
it is only by humility, prayer, and diffidence in our own strength
that this grace can be preserved. Although I exhort you t<j
study well the grounds of our faith, thereby to confirm you daily
more and more, yet never lose sight of that infallible beacon
which God has given us for our direction."
" If I forget thee, O, Jerusalem, let my right hand be forgot-
ten ; let my tongue cleave to my jaws' if 1 do not remember
thee !' exclaimed Sefton in a holy burst of fervour. " Indeed,
Father Oswald, you cannot conceive with what different senti-
ments I now read the holy Scriptures ; many passages which
formerly appeared to me dark, mysterious, irrelevant, and even
contradictory, now appear clear, intelligible, and beautifully har-
monizing with the dogmas of Catholic faith. But it is not from
the Scripture I have received the greatest confirmation of my
iaith: I have witnessed its effects in a singular manner as I
passed through Paris." He then related to them the extraordi-
nary conversion of Le Sage ; " this made a great impression on
me, added he. " I had seen the u.-raculous liquefaction of the
blooa of St. Januarius, and I remained convinced : it was the
293 FATHER OSWALD.
testimony of God to the truth of the Catholic faith ; but had 1
never seen that, and had God only deigned that 1 should witness
the change I saw in Le Sage, I should have confessed that the
hand of the Most High had wrought it. This, iudeed, is a
miracle of grace far surpassing the former: the one is the
triumph of Omnipotence over the fixed laws of matter, the other
is the triumph of mercy over the free, but perverted will of man ;
the religion which can produce this effect must be divine."
" I must be of your religion also," exclaimed Harriet, burst,
ing into a flood of tears. " I cannot bear to be the only wretched
creature in this happy house."
" Be calm, sister," said Sefton kindly; "every thing shall be
done in due time ; you shall be instructed." It is not a sufficient
motive to become a Catholic because I am one ; your faith must
be built on a more solid foundation."
" Leave that to me." said the General ; " I will drill her so,
that in a few days she shall fall into the ranks with the best of
us ; but I will have no interlopers in the camp, so we will begin
by drumming out of the regiment, all croaking ravens and im-
pertinent magpies."
Harriet smiled her approbation, and soon dried up her tars,
All remained for some moments silent, musing in tranquil ana
grateful happiness on the wonders they had heard.
" May God in his mercy biesiyou ! my children," said Father
Oswald, rising to depart, "and give you many long and happy
years to love and serve Him, with your whole hearts, and souls,
and minds, in the one true, holv, Catholic and Apostolic Church,
and to love and cherish one aiiomtr with pure and undivided
affections."
And God did bless them; and, Edward and Emma were a
thousand times dearer to each other than they had ever been
before. Emma soon recovered her loveliness and vivacity, in
the peace and happiness she now enjoyed. The General spent
his declining years in the happy and united family, alternately
at Weelwood and Sefton Hall. In a good old age he was gath-
ered to his forefathers, leaving his property with the exception
of some charitable bequests to the aged poor and the Catholic
school in the neighbourhood of Weetwood to Sefton's second
son, who took the name of Russel. Harriet, after being thor-
oughly instructed in the principles and practice of the Catholic
faith, and having diligently compared them with those of the
Reformed doctrines, became fully convinced of the necessity of
entering the One True Fold, and prepared herself for her first
Confession and Communion. In these important duties she was
materially assisted by her amiable and intelligent sister-in-law,
FATHER OSWALD. 299
as well as by her brother, Mr. Sefton, who was both delighted
and edified to find Harriet at once so docile and so determined.
Having made a general Confession, and afterwards a Profes-
sion of Faith, she was formally received into the bosom of the
Catholic Church, and approached the Holy Communion, de-
voutly and fervently receiving the body and blood of her Divine
Redeemer as a solemn pledge of unswerving fidelity in the ob-
servance of His holy commandments during the remainder of
her life. She still lives, loved, admired, and respected by all :
anxiously emulating the sincere piety, unbounded charity ana
rare virtues of her amiable sister, whose sublunary happiness,
Harriet's conversion seems to have made complete.
Edward and Emma, happy in the midst of a numerous and
an interesting family, sedulously trained in the principles and
practice of every moral virtue and Catholic piety continue 1o
reside at the ancestral Hall: where, it is the anxious prayer o(
their happy and comfortable tenantry as well as of the numer-
ous poor of the vicinity, they may long continue to reside, to
spread the sweet odour of their charity and good works around
them, in the blessed hope, that as they lived here together in
ihc profession and practice of the true Faith, so would they bo
united together for ever in the bosom of their God, through an
endless eternity of joy and happiness.
rxi io
JZatablisted, 1837.
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neatly bound in cloth, with a Beautiful Ornamental
Title-Page ................................... per vol. 1 25
do. do. cloth, gilt edges, &c. 1 50
he contents are made up of Innocent, Plain, and Instruc-
tive Moral Tales, Interesting Biographies, Sketches of History and
Travels, Natural History, Amusing Anecdotes, Poetry, Moral Les-
sons on various subjects, Fables, Riddles, <c., dx. Each volum*
contains 3S4 pages. Embellished with Fino Engravings.
JKf- It can be recommended with confidence, as one of the most
attractive, edifying, and instructive Juveniles that can be placed
In the hands of Catholic Youth.
JKg It should find a place in every Catholic Household.
V03 5 - It is admirably adapted for a Premium, or Gift Book.
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Moral and Instructive Tales, &c,
Talcs of the Angels ; or, Ethel's Boole. By
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The name of the distinguished author is sufficient to direct
attention to this charming little volume. Competent judges iu
this country have pronounced it one of the most interesting Books
of its class ever published. The sale of 10.000 copies iu a few years,
and the constantly increasing demand, attest the value and public
appreciation of FATHER FABER'S LITTLE JUVEXILE, written for and
dedicated to his young relative,
The Lady ETUELDREDA FITZALAJI HOWARD.
The Queens and Princesses of France.
By GEOIIGE WHITE, M. C. P IGo. cloth, 60
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This little Work, intended as a Presentation and Premium Book,
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our Series of Juveniles that have met with such universal favor,
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A Tale of the North American Indians. By JAS.
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"Although the details of the narrative are drawn from fiction,
they do not exceed, if they even equal, the reality of that toilsome
and suffering life which the Jesuit missionaries formerly endured,
and still endure in this and other countries, for the salvation of
souls. The interesting style in which the incidents are narrated
commends it with peculiar force to the attention of the reading
community." Metropolitan.
The Oriental Pearl, a Catholic Tale. By
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"It is written with a taste and ease which exhibit indications
of considerable talent. Wo commend it as a very pleasant and
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"This is one of tho most beautiful and touching stories we ever
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The Catholic Bride. Translated from the
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In giving us these interesting letters in an English dress, tho
reverend translator has added another to the many obligations
of gratitude which the American Catholics already owe him."
U. S. Catholic Magazine.
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STANDARD PRAYER BOOKS,
PUBLISHED WITH THE APPROBATION OP
Tho Most Rev. The Archbishop of Baltimore.
SAINT VINCENT'S MANUAL,
Originally Prepared for the use of the Sisters of Charity.
Is Recommended for General Use, by the Must
Reverend the Archbishop of Baltimore, and tho Right Reverend
Bishops of the U. S., who composed the VII th Provincial Council,
and the National Council, in 1802, as being tho most COMPLETE,
COMPREHENSIVE, and ACCURATE CATHOLIC PRAYER
BOOK published in the United States.
ftJr-It is specially Recommended by the Right Rev. Bishops
of Montreal, and Toronto, Canada.
St. Vincent's Manual is an Elegant and At-
tractive volume, printed on Fine Paper, Embel-
lished with Fine Engravings, and bound in the
most Attractive Styles. It is the Best and Most
Complete Prayer Book published. Containing only
such Prayers and Devotions as are Approved and
Sanctioned by the Church.
No. 1 966 pages, 24o. fine cloth, 1 00
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JJCg* It may be had in a variety of extra fine French Bindings
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43S~ In ordering Prayer Bonks, the dumber icitt be sufficient to
indicate the style of Binding and Pi-ice.
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Standard Prayer Books,
The Key of Heaven. A Manual of Prayer.
By the lit. llev. J. MILNEH, D. D. A New Edition,
carefully Revised and Enlarged. 480 pages, 32o.
Jgsgp"' All the principal Devotions are in large type.
Approbation nf the Most Rev, Archbishop SPALDING.
Our Examiners of Books having reported favorably to Us of the
lato famous Bishop Milner's Prayer Book, entitled THE KEY OP
HEAVEN, and having Ourselves carefully examined the same, and
found that the regulations of the Holy Sec, in reference to Litanies
and other devotions havo been fully attended to, and several im-
provements more specially adapted to the wants of this country
introduced, Wo hereby approve of its publication by John Murphy
of Our City, and recommend it to the faithful of Our Archdiocese.
GIVEN from Our Residence in Baltimore, on the Feast of St.
Charles Borromeo, Nov. 4th, 1S67. MARTIN JOHN,
Archbishop of Baltimore.
No. 1 480 pages, 32o., fine cloth, 45
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This new edition of this Popular Standard Prayer Book has
been cavo'ully and thoroughly revised. It is printed with great
care, from a clear bold type, on fine paper, and may justly bo
regarded as the most comprehensive and complete Prayer Book,
of its size, ever issued in this country. Besides the collection of
Prayers, and Devotions for all occasions, the Instructions and
Explanations greatly enhance its merits and usefulness. It can
be conveniently carried in the pocket of either a lady or gentleman.
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Standard Prayer Books.
GeitlS of Devotion: A Selection of Prayers for
Catholics. A new Enlarged and Improved Edi-
tion. 384 pages, 48o.
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14 velvet extra, full mounted, G 00
This is a new and enlarged edition, to which has been added,
The Office of the Immaculate Conception of the C. V. 51.. the
Hymn to the honor of Mary, the Virgin Mother of God, composed
by St. Casmir, in Latin and English, the Devotion of the Forty
Hours, Rules of a Christian Life, &c.; rendering it the most
complete, as it is universally conceded to be the best and cheapest
Miniature Prayer Book published.
Daily Exercise ; A neat Miniature Prayer Book,
consisting of the Holy Mass and Vespers, with
Morning and Evening Prayers. To which are
added a Selection of Hymns, Prayers for Confession,
Communion, $c. Enlarged and Improved. 48o.
No. 1 cloth, 20
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Standard Prayer Books.
Child's Prayer and Hymn Boole; For
the use of Catholic Sunday Schools. 50th edition,
greatly enlarged and improved. This little work,
compiled by an eminent Clergyman, contains
Morning and Evening Prayers, short Prayers at
Mass, Illustrated with 86 Engravings. Instruc-
tions and Devotions for Confession, Communion,
and Confirmation ; also, the Vespers, and a suitable
collection of Pious Hymns, Benediction of the Blessed
Sacrament, tlie Responses before and during High
Mass, set to Music.
The Cheapest and Best Bnok published for the Use of Cltildren.
No. 1 cloth, 30
2 cloth, gilt sides and edges, 60
o ai-abcsque, gilt centre and edges, 75
" AVo know of no book of the kind so well adapted to the use of
children, whether in the Sunday School, or on other occasions;
and its extraordinary cheapness is an additional consideration in
bespeaking for it u \vide circulation." U. S. C. Mag.
The Catholic Manual for Children.
o'20 pages, 64o. With upwards of 40 Fine Engrav-
ings, illustrating the, Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, $c.
No. 1 cloth, gilt back, 20
2 cloth, gilt sides and edges, 40
3 .arabesque, gilt centre and edges, 50
4 turkey morocco, super extra, 1 00
Xg="This little Miniature Prayer Book contains, in the most com-
pact and attractive form, all tho Prayers and Devotions adapted
to the various occasions and circumstances which may iuvito
Children to Prayer. J?3~ In Arrangement, Typography, ic., it
is a Gem. The sale of several largo editions, in a few years, is an
evidence of its Merits and Popularity.
3" The best Book of the kind as yet published. .Boston Pilni.
9* Admirably adapted to the purpose for which it lias been
published. Met. Record.
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