assembled about the house in great numbers, and proffered money
largely that they might see this monster with their own eyes; for by
this time they were persuaded that I was indeed an ill spirit, or the
very devil. 'For what man was ever heard of,' said they, 'which, if he
had the mind, understanding, and sense of a man, would, of his own
voluntary will, and without any respect or consideration at all, give
or proffer such a sum of money to a man utterly unknown?' God knowcth
what should have ensued if some hours later it had not chanced that
Sir Henry Stafford did ride into the town, and, seeing a great
concourse of people at the door of the inn, he stopped to inquire into
the cause; which when it was related to him, he said he was a
magistrate, and should himself examine, face to face, this limb of
Satan. So I was taken before him into the parlor; and being alone with
him, and knowing him to be well-disposed in religion, albeit
conforming to the times, I explained in a general manner what sort of
an errand had brought me to that place. Methinks he guessed me to be a
priest, although he said nothing thereon, but only licensed me to
depart and go away whither I would, himself letting me out of the
house through a back-door. I have heard since that he harangued the
people from the balcony, and told them, that whilst he was examining
me a strong smell of sulphur had come into the chamber, and a pack of
devils carried me off through the window into the air; and he doubted
not I had by that time returned to mine own lodging in hell. Which he
did, I knew, for to prevent their pursuing me and using such violence
as he might not have had means to hinder."

"It was not, then," I asked, "on this occasion you were apprehended
and taken to Wisbeach?"

"No," he answered; "nor indeed can I be said to have been apprehended
at all, for it happened in this wise that I became a prisoner. I was
one day in Norwich, whither I had gone to baptize a child, and, as
Providence would have it, met with Haward, by whose means I had been
set at liberty one year before. After ordinary salutations, he said to
me, 'Mr. Tunstall' (for by that name only he knew me), 'the host of
the inn where you were taken last year says I have undone him, by
suffering the prisoner I had promised to deliver to escape; for he
having been my surety with the mayor, he is threatened with eight
months' imprisonment, or the payment of a large fine. He hath come to
this town for to seek me, and hath seized upon me on this charge; so
that I be only at liberty for six hours, for I {313} promised that I
would bring you to him by four o'clock (a Catholic merchant yielding
him security thereof), or else that I should deliver him my body
again. 'I am content,' he said, 'so that I have one of you two.' So
either you, Mr. Tunstall, or I, must needs go to prison. You know my
state and condition, and may guess how I shall be treated, if once I
appear under my right name before them. You know, also, your own
state. Now, it is in your choice whether of us shall go; for one must
go; there is no remedy; and to force you I will not, for I had rather
sustain any punishment whatsoever.' 'Now God be blessed,' I cried,
'that he hath thrown me in your way at this time, for I should never
while I lived have been without scruple if you had gone to prison in
my stead. Nothing grieveth me in this but that I have not finished off
some business I had in this town touching a person in some distress of
mind.' 'Why,' said Haward, 'it is but ten o'clock yet; you may
despatch your business by four of the clock, and then you may go to
the sign of the Star and inquire for one Mr. Andrews, the
lord-lieutenant's deputy, and to him you may surrender yourself.' 'So
I will,' I said; and so we parted. At four of the clock I surrendered
myself, and was straightway despatched to Wisbeach Castle, where I
remained for three months. A message reached me there that a Catholic
which had led a very wicked life, and was lying on his death-bed, was
almost beside himself for that he could get no priest to come to him.
The person which delivered this advertisement left some ropes with me,
by which means I escaped out of the window into the moat with such
damage to my hands that I was like to lose the use of them, and
perhaps of my life, if these wounds had mortified before good Lady
l'Estrange dressed them. But I reached the poor sinner, which had
proved the occasion of my escaping, in time for to give him
absolution, and from Mr. Rugeley's house visited many Catholics in
that neighborhood. The rest is well known to thee, my good child. . . ."

As he was speaking these words the door of the cell opened, and the
gaoler advertised me I could tarry no longer; so, with many blessings,
my dear father dismissed me, and I went home with Mr. Congleton and
Hubert, who anxiously inquired what his answer had been to the
proposal I had carried to him.

"A most resolved denial of the conditions attached to it," I said,
"joined to many grateful acknowledgments to Sir Francis and to you
also for your efforts in his favor."

"'Tis madness!" he exclaimed.

"Yea," I answered, "such madness as the heathen governor did charge
St. Paul with."

And so no more passed between us whilst we rode back to Holborn. Mr.
Congleton put questions to me touching my father's health and his
looks,--if he seemed of good cheer, and spoke merrily as he used to
do; and then we all continued silent. When we arrived at Ely Place,
Hubert refused to come into the house, but detained me on the outward
steps, as if desirous to converse with me alone. Thinking I had spoken
to him in the coach in an abrupt manner which savored of ingratitude,
I said more gently, "I am very much beholden to you, Hubert, for your
well-meaning toward my father."

"I would fain continue to help you," he answered in an agitated voice.
"Constance," he exclaimed, after a pause, "your father is in a very
dangerous plight."

"I know it," said I, quickly; "but I know, too, he is resolved and
content to die rather than swerve an inch from his duty to God and his
Church."

"But," quoth he then, "do you wish to save him?"

I looked at him amazed. "Wish it! God knoweth that to see him in
safety I would have my hand cut off,--yea, and my head also."

{314}

"What, and rob him of his expectant crown--the martyr's palm, and all
the rest of it?" he said, with a perceptible sneer.

"Hubert!" I passionately exclaimed, "you are investigable to me; you
chill my soul with your half-uttered sentences and uncertain meanings!
Once, I remember, you could speak nobly,--yea, and feel so too, as
much as any one. Heaven shield you be not wholly changed!"

"Changed!" quoth he, in a low voice, "I am changed;" and then abruptly
altering his manner, and leaving me in doubt as to the change he did
intend to speak of, he pressed me to take no measures touching my
father's release till he had spoken with me again; for he said if his
real name became known, or others dealt in the matter, all hope on Sir
Francis's side should be at an end. He then asked me if I had heard of
Basil lately. I told him of the letter I had had from him at
Kenninghall some weeks back. He said a report had reached him that he
had landed at Dover and was coming to London; but he hoped it was not
true, for that Sir Henry Stafford was very urgent he should continue
abroad till the expiration of his wardship.

I said, "If he was returned, it must surely be for some sufficient
cause, but that I had heard nothing thereof, and had no reason to
expect it."

"But you would know it, I presume, if he was in London?" he urged. I
misliked his manner, which always put me in mind of one in the dark,
which feeleth his way as he advances, and goeth not straight to the
point.

"_Is_ Basil in England?" I inquired, fixing mine eyes on him, and with
a flutter at my heart from the thought that it should be possible.

"I heard he was," he answered in a careless tone; "but I think it not
to be true. If he should come whilst this matter is in hand, I do
conjure you, Constance, if you value your father's existence and
Basil's also, let him not into this secret."

"Wherefore not?" I quickly answered. "Why should one meet to be
trusted, and by me above all other persons in the world, be kept
ignorant of what so nearly doth touch me?"

"Because," he said, "there is a rashness in his nature which will
assuredly cause him to run headlong into danger if not forcibly
withheld from the occasions of it."

"I have seen no tokens of such rashness as you speak of in him," I
replied; "only of a boldness such as well becomes a Christian and a
gentleman."

"Constance Sherwood!" Hubert exclaimed, and seized hold of my hand
with a vehemency which caused me to start, "I do entreat you, yea, on
my bended knees, if needs be, I will beseech you to beware of that
indomitable and resolved spirit which sets at defiance restraint,
prudence, pity even; which leads you to brave your friends, spurn
wholesome counsel, rush headlong into perils which I forewarn you do
hang thickly about your path. If I can conjure them, I care not by
what means, I will do so; but for the sake of all you do hold dear,
curb your natural impetuosity, which may prove the undoing of those
you most desire to serve."

There was a plausibility in this speech, and in mine own knowledge of
myself some sort of a confirmation of what he did charge me with,
which inclined me somewhat to diffide of mine own judgment in this
matter, and not to turn a wholly deaf ear to his advertisement. He had
the most persuasive tongue in the world, and a rare art at
representing things under whatever aspect he chose. He dealt so
cunningly therein with me that day, and used so many ingenious
arguments, that I said I should be very careful how I disclosed
anything to Basil or any one else touching my father's imprisonment,
who Mr. Tunstall was, and my near concern in his fate; but would give
no promise thereupon: so he was forced to content himself with as much
as he could obtain, and {315} withdrew himself for that day, he said;
but promised to return on the morrow.

CHAPTER XVIII.

When at last I entered the house I sought Mistress Ward; for I desired
to hear what assistance she had procured for the escape of the
prisoners, and to inform her of my father's resolved purpose not
himself to attempt this flight, albeit commending her for moving Mr.
Watson to it and assisting him therein. Not finding her in the parlor,
nor in her bed-chamber, I opened the door of my aunt's room, who was
now very weak, and yet more so in mind than in body. She was lying
with her eyes shut, and Mistress Ward standing by her bedside. I
marked her intent gaze on the aged, placid face of the poor lady, and
one tear I saw roll down her cheek. Then she stooped to kiss her
forehead. A noise I made with the handle of the door caused her to
turn round, and hastening toward me, she took me by the hand and led
me to her chamber, where Muriel was folding some biscuits and cakes in
paper and stowing them in a basket. The thought came to me of the
first day I had arrived in London, and the comfort I had found in this
room, when all except her were strangers to me in that house. She sat
down betwixt Muriel and me, and smiling, said: "Now, mine own dear
children, for such my heart holds you both to be, and ever will whilst
I live, I am come here for to tell you that I purpose not to return to
this house to-night, nor can I foresee when, if ever, I shall be free
to do so."

"O, what dismal news!" I exclaimed, "and more sad than I did expect."

Muriel said nothing, but lifting her hand to her lips kissed it.

"You both know," she continued, "that in order to save one in cruel
risk and temptation of apostasy, and others perhaps, also, whom his
possible speaking should imperil, I be about to put myself in some
kind of danger, who of all persons in the world possess the best right
to do so, as having neither parents, or husband, or children, or any
on earth who depend on my care. Yea, it is true," she added, fixing
her eyes on Muriel's composed, but oh how sorrowful, countenance,
"none dependent on my care, albeit some very dear to me, and which
hang on me, and I on them, in the way of fond affection. God knoweth
my heart, and that it is very closely and tenderly entwined about each
one in this house. Good Mr. Congleton and your dear mother, who hath
clung to me so long, though I thank God not so much of late by reason
of the weakening of her mind, which hath ceased greatly to notice
changes about her, and you, Constance, my good child, since your
coming hither a little lass commended to my keeping. . . . ." There
she stopped; and I felt she could not name Muriel, or then so much as
look on her; for if ever two souls were bound together by an
unperishable bond of affection, begun on earth to last in heaven,
theirs were so united. I ween Muriel was already acquainted with her
purpose, for she asked no questions thereon; whereas I exclaimed, "I
do very well know, good Mistress Ward, what perils you do run in this
charitable enterprise; but wherefore, I pray you, this final manner of
parting? God's providence may shield you from harm in this passage,
and, indeed, human probability should lead us to hope for your safety
if becoming precautions be observed. Then why, I say, this certain
farewell?"

"Because," she answered, "whatever comes of this night's enterprise, I
return not to this house."

"And wherefore not?" I cried; "this is indeed a cruel resolve, a hard
misfortune."

"Heretofore," she answered, "I had noways offended against the laws of
the country, except in respect {316} of recusancy, wherein all here
are alike involved; but by mine act tonight I do expose myself to so
serious a charge (conscience obliging me to prefer the law of divine
charity to that of human authority), that I may at any time and
without the least hope of mercy be exposed to detection and
apprehension; and so am resolved not to draw down sorrow and obloquy
on the gray hairs of my closest friends and on your young years such
perils as I do willingly in mine own person incur, but would not have
others to be involved in. Therefore I will lodge, leastwise for a
time, with one who feareth not any more than I do persecution, who
hath no ties and little or nothing on earth to lose, and if she had
would willingly yield it a thousand times over for to save a soul for
whom Christ died. Nor will I have you privy, my dear children, to the
place of mine abode, that if questioned on it you may with truth aver
yourselves to be ignorant thereof. And now," she said, turning to me,
"is Mr. Sherwood willing for to try to escape by the same means as Mr.
Watson? for methinks I have found a way to convey to him a cord, and,
by means of the management he knoweth of instructions how to use it."

"Nay," I answered, "he will not himself avail himself of this means,
albeit he is much rejoiced you have it in hand for Mr. Watson's
deliverance from his tormentors; and he doth pray fervently for it to
succeed."

"Everything promiseth well," she replied. "I dealt this day with an
honest Catholic boatman, a servant of Mr. Hodgson, who is willing to
assist in it. Two men are needed for to row the boat with so much
speed as shall be necessary to carry it quickly beyond reach of
pursuers. He knoweth none of his own craft which should be reliable or
else disposed to risk the enterprise; but he says at a house of resort
for Catholics which he doth frequent, he chanced to fall in with a
young gentleman, lately landed from France, whom he doth make sure
will lend his aid in it. As dextrous a man," he saith, "to handle an
oar, and of as courageous a spirit, as can be found in England."

As soon as she had uttered these words, I thought of what Hubert had
said touching a report of Basil being in London and of his rashness in
plunging into dangers; a cold shiver ran through me. "Did he tell you
this gentleman's name?" I asked.

"No," she answered, "he would not mention it; but only that he was one
who could be trusted with the lives of ten thousand persons, and so
zealous a Catholic he would any day risk his life to do some good
service to a priest."

"And hath this boatman promised," I inquired, "to wait for Mr. Watson
and convey him away?"

"Yea, most strictly," she answered, "at twelve o'clock of the night he
and his companion shall approach a boat to the side of some
scaffolding which lieth under the wall of the prison; and when the
clock of the tower striketh, Mr. Watson shall open his window, the
bars of which he hath found it possible to remove, and by means of the
cord, which is of the length he measured should be necessary, he will
let himself down on the planks, whence he can step into the boat, and
be carried to a place of concealment in a close part of the city till
it shall be convenient for him to cross the sea to France."

"Must you go?" I said, seeing her rise, and feeling a dull hard
heaviness at my heart which did well-nigh impede my utterance. I was
not willing to let her know the fear I had conceived; "of what use
should it be," I inwardly argued, "to disturb her in the discharge of
her perilous task by a surmise which might prove groundless; and,
indeed, were it certainly true, could she, nay, would she, alter her
intent, or could I so much as ask her to do it?" Whilst, with Muriel's
assistance, she concluded the packing of her basket, wherein the
weighty cord was concealed in an ingenious {317} manner, I stood by
watching the doing of it, fearing to see her depart, yet unable to
think of any means by which to delay that which I could not, even if I
had willed it, prevent. When the last contents were placed in the
basket, and Muriel was pressing down the lid, I said: "Do you,
peradventure, know the name of the inn where you said that gentleman
doth tarry which the boatman spake of?"

"No," she replied; "nor so much as where the good boatman himself
lodgeth. I met with him at Mr. Hodgson's house, and there made this
agreement."

"But if," I said, "it should happen by any reason that Mr. Watson
changed his mind, how should you, then, inform him of it?"

"In that case," she answered, "he would hang a white kerchief outside
his window, by which they should be advertised to withdraw themselves.
And now," she added, "I have always been of the way of thinking that
farewells should be brief; and 'God speed you,' and 'God bless you,'
enough for those which do hope, if it shall please God, on earth, but
for a surety in heaven, to meet again."

So, kissing us both somewhat hurriedly, she took up her basket on her
arm, and said she should send a messenger on the morrow for her
clothes; at which Muriel, for the first time, shed some tears, which
was an instance of what I have often noticed, that grief, howsoever
heavy, doth not always overflow in the eyes unless some familiar words
or homely circumstance doth substantiate the verity of a sorrow known
indeed, but not wholly apparent till its common effects be seen. Then
we two sat awhile alone in that empty chamber--empty of her which for
so long years had tenanted it to our no small comfort and benefit.
When the light waned, Muriel lit a candle, and said she must go for to
attend on her mother, for that duty did now devolve chiefly on her;
and I could see in her sad but composed face the conquering peace
which doth exceed all human consolation.

For mine own part, I was so unhinged by doubtful suspense that I
lacked ability to employ my mind in reading or my fingers in
stitch-work; and so descended for relief into the garden, where I
wandered to and fro like an uneasy ghost, seeking rest but finding
none. The dried shaking leaves made a light noise in falling, which
caused me each time to think I heard a footstep behind me. And despite
the increasing darkness, after I had paced up and down for near unto
an hour, some one verily did come walking along the alley where I was,
seeking to overtake me. Turning round I perceived it to be mine own
dear aged friend, Mr. Roper. Oh, what great comfort I experienced in
the sight of this good man! How eager was my greeting of him! How full
my heart as I poured into his ear the narrative of the passages which
had befallen me since we had met! Of the most weighty he knew
somewhat; but nothing of the last haunting fear I had lest my dear
Basil should be in London, and this very night engaged in the perilous
attempt to carry off Mr. Watson. When I told him of it, he started and
exclaimed:

"God defend it!" but quickly corrected himself and cried, "God's
mercy, that my first feeling should have led me to think rather of
Basil's safety than of the fine spirit he showed in all instances
where a good action had to be done, or a service rendered to those in
affliction."

"Indeed, Mr. Roper," I said, as he led me back to the house and into
the solitary parlor (where my uncle now seldom came, but remained
sitting alone in his library, chiefly engaged in praying and reading),
"I do condemn mine own weakness in this, and pray God to give me
strength for what may come upon us; but I do promise you 'tis no easy
matter to carry always so high a heart that it shall not sink with
human fears and griefs in such passages as these."

{318}

"My dear," the good man answered, "God knoweth 'tis no easy matter to
attain to the courage you speak of. I have myself seen the sweetest,
the lovingest, and the most brave creature which ever did breathe give
marks of extraordinary sorrow when her father, that generous martyr of
Christ, was to die."

"I pray you tell me," I answered, "what her behavior was like in that
trial; for to converse on such themes doth allay somewhat the torment
of suspense, and I may learn lessons from her example, who, you say,
joined to natural weakness so courageous a spirit in like straits."

Upon which he, willing to divert and yet not violently change the
current of my thoughts, spake as followeth:

"On the day when Sir Thomas More came from Westminster to the
Tower-ward, my wife, desirous to see her father, whom she thought she
should never see in this world after, and also to have his final
blessing, gave attendance about the wharf where she knew he should
pass before he could enter into the Tower. As soon as she saw him,
after his blessing upon her knees reverently received, hastening
toward him without care or consideration of herself, passing in
amongst the throng and company of the guard, she ran to him and took
him about the neck and kissed him; who, well liking her most natural
and dear daughterly affection toward him, gave her his fatherly
blessing and godly words of comfort beside; from whom, after she was
departed, not satisfied with the former sight of him, and like one
that had forgotten herself, being all ravished with the entire love of
her father, suddenly turned back again, ran to him as before, took him
about the neck, and divers times kissed him lovingly, till at last,
with a full and heavy heart, she was fain to depart from him; the
beholding thereof was to many that were present so lamentable, and
mostly so to me, that for very sorrow we could not forbear to weep
with her. The wife of John Harris, Sir Thomas's secretary, was moved
to such a transport of grief, that she suddenly flew to his neck and
kissed him, as he had reclined his head on his daughter's shoulder;
and he who, in the midst of the greatest straits, had ever a merry
manner of speaking, cried, 'This is kind, albeit rather unpolitely
done.'"

"And the day he suffered," I asked, "what was this good daughter's
behavior?"

"She went," quoth he, "to the different churches, and distributed
abundant alms to the poor. When she had given all her money away, she
withdrew to pray in a certain church, where she on a sudden did
remember she had no linen in which to wrap up her father's body. She
had heard that the remains of the Bishop of Rochester had been thrown
into the ground, without priest, cross, lights, or shroud, for the
dread of the king had prevented his relations from attempting to bury
him. But Margaret resolved her father's body should not meet with such
unchristian treatment. Her maid advised her to buy some linen in the
next shop, albeit having given away all her money to the poor, there
was no likelihood she should get credit from strangers. She ventured,
howsoever, and having agreed about the price, she put her hand in her
pocket, which she knew was empty, to show she forgot the money, and
ask credit under that pretence. But to her surprise, she found in her
purse the exact price of the linen, neither more or less; and so
buried the martyr of Christ with honor, nor was there any one so
inhuman found as to hinder her."

"Mr. Roper," I said, when he had ended his recital, "methinks this
angelic lady's trial was most hard: but how much harder should it yet
have been if you, her husband, had been in a like peril at that time
as her father?"

{319}

A half kind of melancholy, half smiling look came into the good old
man's face as he answered:

"Her father was Sir Thomas More, and he so worthy of a daughter's
passionate love, and the affection betwixt them so entire and
absolute, compounded of filial love on her part, unmitigated
reverence, and unrestrained confidence, that there was left in her
heart no great space for wifely doating. But to be moderately
affectioned by such a woman, and to stand next in her esteem to her
incomparable father, was of greater honor and worth to her unworthy
husband, than should have been the undivided, yea idolatrous, love of
one not so perfect as herself."

After a pause, during which his thoughts, I ween, reverted to the
past, and mine investigated mine own soul, I said to Mr. Roper:

"Think you, sir, that love to be idolatrous which is indeed so
absolute that it should be no difficulty to die for him who doth
inspire it; which would prefer a prison in his company, howsoever dark
and loathsome (yea consider it a very paradise), to the beautifullest
palace in the world, which without him would seem nothing but a vile
dungeon; which should with a good-will suffer all the torments in the
world for to see the object of its affection enjoy good men's esteem
on earth, and a noble place in heaven; but which should be,
nevertheless, founded and so wholly built up on a high estimate of his
virtues; on the quality he holdeth of God's servant; on the likeness
of Christ stamped on his soul, and each day exemplified in his manner
of living, that albeit to lose his love or his company in this world
should be like the uprooting of all happiness and turning the
brightness of noonday to the darkness of the night, it should a
thousand times rather endure this mishap than that the least shade or
approach of a stain should alter the unsullied opinion till then held
of his perfections?"

Mr. Roper smiled, and said that was a too weighty question to answer
at once; for he should be loth to condemn or yet altogether to absolve
from some degree of overweeningness such an affection as I described,
which did seem indeed to savor somewhat of excess; but yet if noble in
its uses and held in subjection to the higher claims of the Creator,
whose perfections the creature doth at best only imperfectly mirror,
it might be commendable and a means of attaining ourselves to the like
virtues we doated on in another.

As he did utter these words a servant came into the parlor, and
whispered in mine ear:

"Master Basil Rookwood is outside the door, and craves--"

I suffered him not to finish his speech, but bounded into the hall,
where Basil was indeed standing with a traveller's cloak on him, and a
slouched hat over his face. After such a greeting as may be conceived
(alas, all greetings then did seem to combine strange admixtures of
joy and pain!), I led him into the parlor, where Mr. Roper in his turn
received him with fatherly words of kindness mixed with amazement at
his return.

"And whence," he exclaimed, "so sudden a coming, my good Basil?
Verily, you do appear to have descended from the skies!"

Basil looked at me and replied: "I heard in Paris, Mr. Roper, that a
gentleman in whom I do take a very lively interest, one Mr. Tunstall,
was in prison at London; and I bethought me I could be of some service
to him by coming over at this time."

"O Basil," I cried, "do you then know he is my father?"

"Yea," he joyfully answered, "and I am right glad you do know it also,
for then there is no occasion for any feigning, which, albeit I deny
it not to be sometimes useful and necessary, doth so ill agree with my
bluntness, that it keepeth me in constant fear of stumbling in my
speech. I was in a manner forced to come over secretly; because if Sir
Henry Stafford, who willeth me to remain abroad till I have {320} got
out of my wardship, should hear of my being in London, and gain scent
of the object of my coming, he should have dealt in all sorts of ways
to send me out of it. But, prithee, dearest love, is Mrs. Ward in this
house?"

"Alas!" I said, "she is gone hence. Her mind is set on a very
dangerous enterprise."

"I know it," he saith (at which word my heart began to sink); "but,
verily, I see not much danger to be in it; and methinks if we do
succeed in carrying off your good father and that other priest
to-night in the ingenious manner she hath devised, it will be the best
night's work done by good heads, good arms, and good oars which can be
thought of."

"Oh, then," I exclaimed, "it is even as I feared, and you, Basil, have
engaged in this rash enterprise. O woe the day you came to London, and
met with that boatman!"

"Constance," he said reproachfully, "should it be a woful day to thee
the one on which, even at some great risk, which I deny doth exist in
this instance, I should aid in thy father's rescue?"

"Oh, but, my dear Basil," I cried, "he doth altogether refuse to stir
in this matter. I have had speech with him to-day, and he will by no
means attempt to escape again from prison. He hath done it once for
the sake of a soul in jeopardy; but only to save his life, he is
resolved not to involve others in peril of theirs. And oh, how
confirmed he would be in his purpose if he knew who it was who doth
throw himself into so great a risk! I' faith, I cannot and will not
suffer it!" I exclaimed impetuously, for the sudden joy of his
presence, the sight of his beloved countenance, lighted up with an
inexpressible look of love and kindness, more beautiful than my poor
words can describe, worked in me a rebellion against the thought of
more suffering, further parting, greater fears than I had hitherto
sustained.

He said, "He could wish my father had been otherwise disposed, for to
have aided in his escape should have been to him the greatest joy he
could think of; but that having promised likewise to assist in Mr.
Watson's flight, he would never fail to do so, if he was to die for
it."

"'Tis very easy," I cried, "to speak of dying, Basil, nor do I doubt
that to one of your courage and faith the doing of it should have
nothing very terrible in it. But I pray you remember that that life,
which you make so little account of, is not now yours alone to dispose
of as you list. Mine, dear Basil, is wrapped up with it; for if I lose
you, I care not to live, or what becomes of me, any more."

Mr. Roper said he should think on it well before he made this venture;
for, as I had truly urged, I had a right over him now, and he should
not dispose of himself as one wholly free might do.

"Dear sir," quoth he in answer, "my sweet Constance and you also might
perhaps have prevailed with me some hours ago to forego this
intention, before I had given a promise to Mr. Hodgson's boatman, and
through him to Mistress Ward and Mr. Watson; I should then have been
free to refuse my assistance if I had listed; and albeit methinks in
so doing I should have played a pitiful part, none could justly have
condemned me. But I am assured neither her great heart nor your
honorable spirit would desire me so much as to place in doubt the
fulfilment of a promise wherein the safety of a man, and he one of
God's priests, is concerned. I pray thee, sweetheart, say thou wouldst
not have me do it."

Alas! this was the second time that day my poor heart had been called
upon to raise itself higher than nature can afford to reach. But the
present struggle was harder than the first. My father had long been to
me as a distant angel, severed from my daily life and any future hope
in this world. His was an expectant martyrdom, an exile from his true
home, a daily {321} dying on earth, tending but to one desired end.
Nature could be more easily reconciled in the one case than in the
other to thoughts of parting. Basil was my all, my second self, my
sole treasure,--the prop on which rested youth's hopes, earth's joys,
life's sole comfort; and chance (as it seemed, and men would have
called it), not a determined seeking, had thrust on him this danger,
and I must needs see him plunged into it, and not so much as say a
word to stay him or prevent it. . . . . I was striving to constrain my
lips to utter the words my rebelling heart disavowed, and he kneeling
before me, with his dear eyes fixed on mine, awaiting my consent, when
a loud noise of laughter in the hall caused us both to start up, and
then the door was thrown open, and Kate and Polly ran into the room so
gaily attired, the one in a yellow and the other in a crimson gown
bedecked with lace and jewels, that nothing finer could be seen.

"Lackaday!" Polly cried, when she perceived Basil; "who have we here?
I scarce can credit mine eyes! Why, Sir Lover, methought you were in
France. By what magic come you here? Mr. Roper, your humble servant.
'Tis like you did not expect so much good company to-night, Con, for
you have but one poor candle or two to light up this dingy room, and I
fear there will not be light enough for these gentlemen to see our
fine dresses, which we do wear for the first time at Mrs. Yates's
house this evening."

"I thought you were both in the country," I said, striving to disguise
how much their coming did discompose me.

"Methinks," answered Polly, laughing, "your wish was father to that
thought, Con, and that you desired to have the company of this fine
gentleman to yourself alone, and Mr. Roper's also, and no one else for
to disturb you. But, in good sooth, we were both at Mr. Benham's seat
in Berkshire when we heard of this good entertainment at so great a
friend's house, and so prevailed on our lords and governors for to
hire a coach and bring us to London for one night. We lie at Kate's
house, and she and I have supped on a cold capon and a veal pie we
brought with us, and Sir Ralph and Mr. Lacy do sup at a tavern in the
Strand, and shall fetch us here when it shall be convenient to them to
carry us to this grand ball, which I would not have missed, no, not
for all the world. So I pray you let us be merry till they do come,
and pass the time pleasantly."

"Ay," said Kate, in a lamentable voice, "you would force me to dress
and go abroad, when I would sooner be at home; for John's stomach is
disordered, and baby doth cut her teeth, and he pulled at my ribbons
and said I should not leave him; and beshrew me if I would have done
so, but for your overpersuading me. But you are always so absolute! I
wonder you love not more to stay at home, Polly."

Basil smiled with a better heart than I could do, and said he would
promise her John should sleep never the less well for her absence, and
she should find baby's tooth through on the morrow; and sitting down
by her side, talked to her of her children with a kindliness which
never did forsake him. Mr. Roper set himself to converse with Polly; I
ween for to shield me from the torrent of her words, which, as I sat
between them, seemed to buzz in mine ear without any meaning; and yet
I must needs have heard them, for to this day I remember what they
talked of;--that Polly said, "Have you seen the ingenious poesy which
the queen's saucy godson, the merry wit Harrington, left behind her
cushion on Wednesday, and now 'tis in every one's hands?"

"Not in mine," quoth Mr. Roper; "so, if your memory doth serve you,
Lady Ingoldsby, will you rehearse it?" which she did as follows; and
albeit I only did hear those lines {322} that once, they still remain
in my mind:

  "For ever dear, for ever dreaded prince,
  You read a verse of mine a little since,
  And so pronounced each word and every letter,
  Your gracious reading graced my verse the better;
  Sith then your highness doth by gift exceeding
  Make what you read the better for your reading,
  Let my poor muse your pains thus far importune,
  Like as you read my verse--so read my fortune!"

"Tis an artful and witty petition," Mr. Roper observed; "but I have
been told her majesty mislikes the poet's satirical writings, and
chiefly the metamorphosis of Ajax."

"She signified," Polly answered, "some outward displeasure at it, but
Robert Markham affirms she likes well the marrow of the book, and is
minded to take the author to her favor, but sweareth she believes he
will make epigrams on her and all her court. Howsoever, I do allow she
conceived much disquiet on being told he had aimed a shaft at
Leicester. By the way, but you, cousin Constance, should best know the
truth thereon" (this she said turning to me), "'tis said that Lord
Arundel is exceeding sick again, and like to die very soon. Indeed his
physicians are of opinion, so report speaketh, that he will not last
many days now, for as often as he hath rallied before."

"Yesterday," I said, "when I saw Lady Surrey, he was no worse than
usual."

"Oh, have you heard," Polly cried, running from one theme to another,
as was her wont, "that Leicester is about to marry Lettice Knollys, my
Lady Essex?"

"'Tis impossible," Basil exclaimed, who was now listening to her
speeches, for Kate had finished her discourse touching her Johnny's
disease in his stomach. The cause thereof, she said, both herself
thought, and all in Mr. Benham's house did judge to have been, the
taking in the morning a confection of barley sodden with water and
sugar, and made exceeding thick with bread. This breakfast lost him
both his dinner and supper, and surely the better half of his sleep;
but God be thanked, she hoped now the worst was past, and that the
dear urchin would shortly be as merry and well-disposed as afore he
left London. Basil said he hoped so too; and in a pause which ensued,
he heard Polly speak of Lord Leicester's intended marriage, which
seemed to move him to some sort of indignation, the cause of which I
only learnt many years later; for that when Lady Douglas Howard's
cause came before the Star-Chamber, in his present majesty's reign, he
told me he had been privy, through information received in France, of
her secret marriage with that lord.

"'Tis not impossible," Polly retorted, "by the same token that the new
favorite, young Robert Devereux, maketh no concealment of it, and
calleth my Lord Leicester his father elect. But I pray you, what is
impossible in these days? Oh, I think they are the most whimsical,
entertaining days which the world hath ever known; and the merriest,
if people have a will to make them so."

"Oh, Polly," I cried, unable to restrain myself, "I pray God you may
never find cause to change your mind thereon."

"Yea, amen to that prayer," quoth she; "I'll promise you, my grave
little coz, that I have no mind to be sad till I grow old--and there
be yet some years to come before that shall befall me. When Mistress
Helen Ingoldsby shall reach to the height of my shoulder, then,
methinks, I may begin to take heed unto my ways. What think you the
little wench said to me yesterday? 'What times is it we do conform to,
mother? dinner-times or bed-times?'" "She should have been answered,
'The devil's times,'" Basil muttered; and Kate told Polly she should
be ashamed to speak in her father's house of the conformity she
practised when others were suffering for their religion. {323} And,
methought, albeit I had scarcely endured the jesting which had
preceded it, I could less bear any talk of religion, least-ways of
that kind, just then. But, in sooth, the constraint I suffered almost
overpassed my strength. There appeared no hope of their going, and
they fell into an eager discourse concerning the bear-baiting they had
been to see in Berkshire, and a great sort of ban-dogs, which had been
tied in an outer court, let loose on thirteen bears that were baited
in the inner; and my dear Basil, who doth delight in all kinds of
sports, listened eagerly to the description they gave of this
diversion. Oh, how I counted the minutes! what a pressure weighted my
heart! how the sound of their voices pained mine ears! how long an
hour seemed! and yet too short for my desires, for I feared the time
must soon come when Basil should go, and lamented that these
unthinking women's tarrying should rob me of all possibility to talk
with him alone. Howsoever, when Mr. Roper rose to depart, I followed
him into the hall and waited near the door for Basil, who was bidding
farewell to Kate and Polly. I heard him beseech them to do him so much
favor as not to mention they had seen him; for that he had not
informed Sir Henry Stafford of his coming over from France, which if
he heard of it otherwise than from himself, it should peradventure
offend him. They laughed, and promised to be as silent as graves
thereon; and Polly said he had learnt French fashions she perceived,
and taken lessons in wooing from mounseer; but she hoped his stealthy
visit should in the end prove more conformable to his desires than
mounseer's had done. At last they let him go; and Mr. Roper, who had
waited for him, wrung his hand, and the manner of his doing it made my
eyes overflow. I turned my face away, but Basil caught both my hands
in his and said, "Be of good cheer, sweetheart. I have not words
wherewith to express how much I love thee, but God knoweth it is very
dearly."

"O Basil! mine own dear Basil," I murmured, laying my forehead on his
coat-sleeve, and could not then utter another word. Ere I lifted it
again, the hall-door opened, and who, I pray you, should I then see
(with more affright, I confess, than was reasonable) but Hubert? My
voice shook as he said to Basil, whose back was turned from the door,
"Here is your brother."

"Ah, Hubert!" he exclaimed; "I be glad to see thee!" and held out his
hand to him with a frank smile, which the other took, but in the doing
of it a deadly paleness spread over his face.

"I have no leisure to tarry so much as one minute," Basil said; "but
this sweet lady will tell thee what weighty reasons I have for
presently remaining concealed; and so farewell, my dear love, and
farewell, my good brother. Be, I pray you, my bedes-woman this night,
Constance; and you too, Hubert,--if you do yet say your prayers like a
good Christian, which I pray God you do,--mind you say an ave for me
before you sleep."

When the door closed on him I sunk down on a chair, and hid my face
with my hands.

"You have not told him anything?" Hubert whispered; and I, "God help
you, Hubert! he hath come to London for this very matter, and hath
already, I fear, albeit not in any way that shall advantage my father,
yet in seeking to assist him, run himself into danger of death, or
leastways banishment."

As I said this mine eyes raised themselves toward him; and I would
they had not, for I saw in his visage an expression I have tried these
many years to forget, but which sometimes even now comes back to me
painfully.

"I told you so," he answered. "He hath an invariable aptness to miss
his aim, and to hurt himself by the shafts he looseth. What plan hath
he now formed, and what shall come of it?"

{324}

But, somewhat recovered from my surprise, I bethought myself it
should not be prudent, albeit I grieved to think so, to let him know
what sort of enterprise it was Basil had in hand; so I did evade his
question, which indeed he did not show himself very careful to have
answered. He said he was yet dealing with Sir Francis Walsingham, and
had hopes of success touching my father's liberation, and so prayed me
not to yield to despondency; but it would take time to bring matters
to a successful issue, and patience was greatly needed, and likewise
prudence toward that end. He requested me very urgently to take no
other steps for the present in his behalf, which might ruin all. And
above all things not to suffer Basil to come forward in it, for that
he had made himself obnoxious to Sir Francis by speeches which he had
used, and which some one had reported to him, touching Lady Ridley's
compliance with his (Sir Francis's) request that she should have a
minister in her house for to read Protestant prayers to her household,
albeit herself, being bedridden, did not attend; and if he should now
stir in this matter, all hope would be at an end. So he left me, and I
returned to the parlor, and Kate and Polly declared my behavior to
them not to be over and above civil; but they supposed when folks were
in love, they had a warrant to treat their friends as they pleased.
Then finding me very dull and heavy, I ween, they bethought themselves
at the last of going to visit their mother in her bed, and paying
their respects to their father, whom they found asleep in his chair,
his prayer-book, with which he was engaged most of the day, lying open
by his side. Polly kissed his forehead, and then the picture of our
Blessed Lady in the first page of this much-used volume; which sudden
acts of hers comforted me not a little.

Muriel came out of her mother's chamber to greet them, but would not
suffer them to see her at this unexpected time, for that the least
change in her customable habits disordered her; and then whispered to
me that she had often asked for Mistress Ward, and complained of her
absence.

At the last Sir Ralph came, but not Mr. Lacy, who he said was tired
with his long ride, and had gone home to bed. Thereupon Kate began to
weep; for she said she would not go without him to this fine ball, for
it was an unbecoming thing for a woman to be seen abroad when her
husband was at home, and a thing she had not yet done, nor did intend
to do. But that it was a very hard thing she should have been at the
pains to dress herself so handsomely, and not so much as one person to
see her in this fine suit; and she wished she had not been so foolish
as to be persuaded to it, and that Polly was very much to blame
therein. At the which, "I' faith, I think so too," Polly exclaimed;
"and I wish you had stayed in the country, my dear."

Kate's pitiful visage and whineful complaint moved me, in my then
apprehensive humor, to an unmerry but not to be resisted fit of
laughter, which she did very much resent; but I must have laughed or
died, and yet it made me angry to hear her utter such lamentations who
had no true cause for displeasure.

When they were gone,--she, still shedding tears, in a chair Sir Ralph
sent for to convey her to Gray's Inn Lane, and he and Polly in their
coach to Mrs. Yates's,--the relief I had from their absence proved so
great that at first it did seem to ease my heart. I went slowly up to
mine own chamber, and stood there a while at the casement looking at
the quiet sky above and the unquiet city beneath it, and chiefly in
the distant direction where I knew the prison to be, picturing to
myself my father in his bare cell. Mistress Ward regaining her obscure
lodging, Mr. Watson's dangerous descent, and mostly the boat which
Basil was to row,--that boat freighted with so perilous a burthen.
These scenes seemed to rise before mine eyes as I remained motionless,
straining {325} their sight to pierce the darkness of the night and of
the fog which hung over the town. When the clock struck twelve, a
shiver ran through me, for I thought of the like striking at Lynn
Court, and what had followed. Upon which I betook myself to my
prayers, and thinking on Basil, said, "Speak for him, O Blessed Virgin
Mary! Entreat for him, O ye apostles! Make intercession for him, all
ye martyrs! Pray for him, all ye confessors and all ye company of
heaven, that my prayers for him may take effect before our Lord Jesus
Christ!" Then my head waxed heavy with sleep, and I sank on the
cushion of my kneeling-stool. I wot not for how many hours I slumbered
in this wise; but I know I had some terrible dreams.

When I awoke it was daylight. A load knocking at the door of the house
had aroused me. Before I had well bethought me where I was, Muriel's
white face appeared at my door. The pursuivants, she said, were come
to seek for Mistress Ward.

[TO BE CONTINUED.]

From The Literary Workman.

FACTS AND FICTIONS ABOUT ROME.

BY THE VERY REV. DR. NORTHCOTE.

THE ROMAN PEOPLE.

It is a relief to turn from the dull, stupid, false witness of our own
countrymen to the more lively but not less malicious falsehoods of the
clever Frenchman, Monsieur About. He deserves a higher rank, too, in
the scale of truthfulness as well as of talent than either Mr. Fullom
or Dean Alford; but on this very account he is the more dangerous
enemy. He handles his pen well, and he has the fatal gift of
insinuating the poison he wishes to administer in the minutest
quantities, but with consummate skill. Often it is contained in a
single word or phrase, dropped apparently at random. Sometimes you can
hardly point out a single statement that is really false, yet a
certain tone and flavor pervades the whole which you feel to be
unjust, and which is all the more injurious because of its extreme
subtlety and the difficulty of providing an antidote. An air of
moderation is thus imparted to his book, which, if we may judge by its
rarity, it is not easy to maintain when writing upon this subject He
does not paint either the Pope or his people all black, but sees much
to commend both in the system and the results of the government.
Indeed, some of his descriptions are, in our judgment, as just as they
are graphic. Take, for example, the following description of the lower
orders of the Roman people, the genuine _plebs_:

"The noble strangers who do Rome in their carriages are but slightly
acquainted with the little world of which I am going to speak, or more
probably form a very false judgment about them. They remember to have
been worried to death by blustering _facchini_ (porters) and followed
by indefatigable beggars. They saw nothing but hands open to receive;
they heard nothing but harsh voices screaming forth a petition for
alms. Behind this curtain of mendacity are concealed nearly a hundred
thousand persons who are poor without being idle, and who labor hard
for a scanty supply of {326} daily bread. The gardeners and
vine-dressers who cultivate part of the environs of Rome; workmen,
artizans, servants, coachmen, studio models, peddlers, honest
vagabonds who wait for their supper on some miracle of Providence or
some lucky chance in the lottery, compose the majority of the
population. They manage to struggle through the winter, when visitors
sow manna over the land; in summer they starve. Many are too proud to
ask for an alms, not one of them is rich enough to refuse it, if
offered. Ignorant and curious; simple, yet subtle; sensitive to
excess, yet without much dignity; extremely prudent in the main, yet
capable of the most outrageous pieces of imprudence; going to extremes
both in devotedness and in hate; easy to move, difficult to convince;
more susceptible of feelings than of ideas; sober by habit, terrible
when intoxicated; sincere in practices of devotion the moat _outré_,
but as ready to quarrel with the saints as with men; persuaded that
they have but little to hope for in this life; comforted from time to
time by the prospect of a better, they live in a state of quiet,
grumbling resignation under a paternal government which gives them
bread when there is bread to give. The inequalities of rank, which are
more conspicuous in Rome than in Paris (?), do not move them to
hatred. They are satisfied with the mediocrity of their lot, and
congratulate themselves that there are rich men in the world, that so
the poor may have benefactors. No people are less capable of managing
themselves, so that they are easily led by the first who presents
himself. They have borne a part in all the Roman revolutions, and many
have acquitted themselves manfully in the fight without having the
least idea what it was about. They trusted so little to the republic
that, in the absence of all the authorities, when the Holy Father and
the Sacred College had taken refuge at Gaeta, thirty poor families
quartered themselves in Cardinal Antonelli's palace, without breaking
a single pane of glass. The restoration of the Pope, under the
protection of a foreign army, was no matter of astonishment to them;
they had expected it as a happy event which would restore public
tranquillity. They live at peace with our soldiers, when the latter do
nothing against the peace or honor of their households; and the
occupation of their city by a foreign army does not trouble them,
except when they are personally inconvenienced by it. They are not
afraid to plunge a dagger into the breast of a conqueror, but I will
answer for their never celebrating any Sicilian Vespers.

"They pride themselves on their descent in a direct line from the
Romans of great Rome; and these harmless pretensions seem to me to
have a very tolerable foundation. Like their ancestors, they eat
largely of bread, and are very greedy after sights; they treat their
wives simply as women, not leaving a single farthing at their
disposal, but spending it all on themselves; every one of them is the
client of some client of a patrician. They are well-built, strong, and
able to deal such a blow as would astonish a buffalo; but there is not
one of them who is not on the lookout for some means of living without
work. Excellent workmen when they haven't a farthing, impossible to be
got hold of as soon as they have a crown in their pockets; good,
honest, kindly, and simple-hearted folks, but thoroughly convinced of
their superiority to the rest of mankind. Economical to the last
degree, and living on dry peas, until they can find some splendid
occasion for spending all their savings in a day; they gather _sous_
by _sous_, two or three pounds in the course of the year, to hire the
balcony of some prince at the carnival, or to show themselves in a
carriage at the feast _del Divin 'Amore_, It is thus the Roman
populace forget both the future and the past in _Saturnalia_. The
hereditary want of forethought which possesses {327} them may be
explained by the irregularity of their resources, the periodical
return of _festas_ which exempt them from labor, and the impossibility
of raising themselves to any higher condition, save by the
intervention of a miracle. They are deficient in many virtues, and,
amongst others, in refinement, which formed no part of the inheritance
to which they have succeeded. That in which they certainly are _not_
deficient is dignity and self-respect. They never demean themselves to
low, coarse jokes, or vulgar debauchery. You will never see them
insult a gentleman in the streets, unprovoked, or speak an offensive
word to a woman. That class of degraded beings which we call the
_canaille_ is absolutely unknown here; the _ignoble_ is not a Roman
commodity."

Here is another testimony of a similar kind, from the same pen, to the
character of one particular class of the Roman people, the
Trastevirni, or people who dwell on the northern side of the Tiber. M.
About invites his readers to accompany him to one of the _osterie_ or
public houses of the quarter where blacksmiths, and shoemakers, and
weavers, and hackney-coachmen, etc, together with their wives and
daughters, resort on Sunday, to enjoy a better dinner and a more
generous flask of wine than they can afford themselves during the
week. The entrance is not inviting, and there are not many foreigners,
or English gentlemen either, who would like to venture, as a mere
matter of curiosity, and without any pressing necessity, into the
corresponding establishments of either France or England. M. About is
well aware of this, so he encourages his readers, bidding them fear
nothing; "you shall dine well," he says, "and nobody shall dine upon
you."

"You shall see men here strong as bulls and quite as irascible; men
who think as little of giving a blow as you or I of drinking a glass
of water, and who never strike without having a knife in their hands.
The police will be nowhere near to protect us; they are always out of
the way. Beside, if you were to offend one of these jolly fellows, he
would kill you, though you were in the very arms of the police.
Nevertheless you may come and go in the midst of them, spend lots of
money, pay in gold, make your purse jingle in the hearing of all, and
go home after midnight through the darkest streets, without any one
dreaming of making an attempt on your purse. More than this: we shall
be politely received, and they will put themselves out of the way to
make room for us. They will not stare at us, as though we were wild
beasts; they will even obligingly gratify our curiosity, if it is not
impertinent We need not fear that wine will excite them to pick a
quarrel with us; but woe betide us if we have the misfortune to
provoke them. They are not aggressive when they are in liquor, but
they are very sensitive. They forgive no offence, even an involuntary
one, if it has exposed them to the raillery of their companions. When
you see a woman with her husband, or a girl with her father, put a
bridle on your eyes. It is often dangerous even to cast a furtive
glance on a Trasteverina; and I have known more than one instance in
which the offender has paid the penalty with his life."

I dare say some of our readers are a little disappointed at the sketch
of the character of the Roman people which we have given on the
authority of M. About. They would rather have heard us say they were
all good and pious and edifying members of society and of the Church.
Indeed we have known some zealous souls who expected to find Rome a
sort of monastery on a large scale, where worldly passions and mortal
sins were never heard of, except among the hardened and rebellious
few; and even the imperfections of ordinary mortals were rarely met
with, and assumed some character of special enormity. Rome seems to
have the gift which, from the Catholic point of view, {328} we should
naturally expect it to have, viz., of stirring the affection of men's
hearts in their lowest depths more powerfully than in any other place
in the world. As our divine Master himself was "set for the ruin as
well as for the resurrection of many in Israel, and for a sign which
should be contradicted," so the capital of his Church upon earth--the
seat of his vicegerent--that city where his interests take precedence
of every earthly consideration, and the world is made to wait upon the
Church, not the Church upon the world, inspires the strongest possible
sentiment of love or of hatred into the minds of all; and where these
feelings are strong, it is hard to keep the exact balance of impartial
truthfulness. What we love intensely, we naturally like to picture to
ourselves as faultless and perfect; and even if we cannot do this--if
we are conscious of defects and faults, which cannot be denied, we
still wish to conceal them as long as possible from others. What
bitter hatred and prejudice can do in the way of blinding men's eyes
and closing men's ears, we have already seen in the melancholy
examples of Messrs. Alford and Co.; nor should we have far to seek if
we desired to present our readers with specimens of exaggerated praise
dictated by the partiality of affection. Most of us have probably met
with generous enthusiasts, who did not hesitate to prefer Rome to
England, under any conceivable aspect, secular as well as religious,
and who would think it as much a point of honor to defend the
character of the Roman soldiers for bravery, the Roman police for
activity, the Roman scavengers for efficiency, and the Roman people
for industry and honesty, as of the Roman clergy for integrity of
faith and purity of morals, and the Roman government for justice
tempered with clemency. Such persons are very amiable friends, but
somewhat embarrassing allies; and writers, very inferior to M. About,
have no difficulty in destroying their well-meant but ill-planned
system of defence. M. About himself is much too wise to fall into this
blunder of unmitigated extravagance, from his side of the question;
and we have been glad, therefore, to avail ourselves of his clever and
spirited sketches to lay before our readers what we really believe to
be a very tolerable estimate of the true state of the case. It is
certainly no article of the faith to believe the Romans to be
impeccable, or the Roman character in itself to be the ideal of human
perfection; and we hope our devotion to the Holy See will not be
called in question for the avowal. We have already quoted the
testimony of a Protestant traveller, who acknowledges the
strongly-marked character of religion which stamps the whole city of
Rome; but this, of course, is not incompatible with the existence of
much that is evil, against which this religious element is always
contending.

We will add yet one more passage from About, which concerns the
general character of the country people, rather than of the
inhabitants of the metropolis. We have spent several months, at
various times, in more than one Italian village, and have been greatly
edified by the simplicity and piety of the people. They were
guiltless, for the most part, of any political knowledge even as to
the affairs of their own country; and as to any other country beside
their own, it was as far removed from their ordinary range of thoughts
as Mars, Venus, and Saturn still are from the thoughts of our own
peasantry. They rose early and worked hard; still, as M. About is
obliged to acknowledge, one cannot say of them--"as of the Irish, for
example," says M. About--"that they are miserable. They are poor, and
that is all. The fact that their religion, their schooling, and their
medical attendance costs them nothing, compensates to a certain degree
for the heavy taxation they suffer in other ways. Their labor in the
fields keeps them alive till old age. _They pass their life in earning
their livelihood._ {329} The existence of this class resembles a
vicious circle." No doubt it does to those whose view of things is
limited to this world, and who cannot recognize any end or reward of
the suffering of this life beyond it. But the Romans, as he himself
acknowledges, "know how to die. This is a trait in their character
which justice obliges us to recognize. They die as they eat, or drink,
or sleep--quite naturally, simply, and as a matter of course. This
resignation is to be explained by their hopes of a life of happiness
in an ideal world hereafter, and by the continual admonitions of a
religion which teaches that all men must die." In other words, the
Roman peasantry believe the Gospel; and so they accept with patience
the primeval burden laid upon fallen man--"In the sweat of thy face
shalt thou eat bread till thou return to the earth, out of which thou
wast taken." And for this they earn the contemptuous pity of the
enlightened Frenchman. We accept his testimony, whilst we disclaim his
commentary and detest his spirit. We think he speaks truly when he
seizes on this characteristic of the Roman popular mind--familiarity
with the idea of death. We know of no people to whom this and other
truths of the faith seem to be more habitually present. It gives a
color and a tone to their ordinary conversation, even where it does
not bring forth fruits of sanctity. We have ourselves heard of a Roman
lady reconciling herself to a marriage which was proposed to her, and
which in some respects was not inviting, simply by a consideration of
the piety of the intended bridegroom; but this consideration found
expression in a truly Roman way, quite in keeping with what M. About
has observed about them. "He is not lively, I know," said the lady,
"nor handsome, nor clever, but he is pious, and _will make a good
end._" And in a charming little book lately published ("Sanctity in
Home Life") we see another Italian lady, the Countess Medolago,
confiding to a friend her only idea of her future husband much in the
same spirit: "All that I know is that he is pious and very fond of the
Jesuits."

THE POLITICS OF THE ROMAN PEOPLE.

The facts we have adduced, the pictures we have drawn--or rather which
M. About, a bitter enemy of the Papal power, has drawn--of the
condition of the Roman people, ought, one would think, to have great
weight with those who have any real care for the well-being of a
nation. A man must be firmly wedded indeed to some political crotchet,
who is ready to risk the loss of such advantages as these in exchange
for the realization of his dreams. But in truth it is the hatred of
Catholicism, rather than the love of any political principle, which
lies at the root of most of the declamation we hear against the abuses
of the Papal government. Why is it else that those gentlemen who
profess so lively a concern that the political liberties of three
millions of Italians should suffer some abridgment for the sake of
upholding the Father of Christendom in the independent exercise of his
spiritual power, are yet able to bear with the utmost equanimity the
sight of real cruelty and oppression inflicted upon ten millions of
Christians in European Turkey? The balance of political power among
the different European governments is of more value in their eyes than
the spiritual supremacy of the Pope; peace, commerce, and wealth
depend on the one, only virtue and religion on the other.

But let us come now to the political question, and see how it really
stands. It has been often and truly said, that the temporal
sovereignty of the Pope rests on more legitimate foundations than any
other European sovereignty of the day. Long possession, to be measured
not by generations but by centuries;  donations from other powers; the
free choice of the people, all combine to impart to the chair of Peter
a dignity and a solidity which does not belong to any other throne.
{330} And if it be objected that, however this may have been in times
past, yet now, at least, the consent of the people is wanting, without
which the modern creed of nations will not allow any power to be
secure, we must answer, what has been proved to demonstration, and
what every one at all conversant with the facts of the case well knows
to be true: that it is not in Rome and among Romans that plots have
been hatched against the Pontifical government; a portion of the
people, the discontented, of whom there must ever be some under every
government, have only lent themselves to the execution of plots
conceived and planned in the secret societies or clubs, or even the
ministerial chambers, of Turin and Genoa. Strangers have always been
at the head of every Roman revolution, adventurers who find their
fortunes in troubled waters, or fanatical politicians, who cannot
endure that any one should be happy, excepting according to their own
receipt. So long as English politicians encourage agitation by their
presence in the country and frequent communications with disaffected
parties in it, or by lending their names and their houses as the
medium of correspondence or of banking transactions between the
conspirators, or by delivering sensational speeches in the house; so
long will the Roman mind be more or less agitated; so long as Piedmont
can send her emissaries into all the towns and villages, distributing
money as the reward of acquiescence in her schemes, conspirators, even
among the Romans themselves, will not be wanting; but if all these
things could be removed, and the question were left to the settlement
of the people themselves, we should have no fear of the result.
Whenever the Popes have been driven out of Rome, the people have
hailed their return with universal acclamations of joy, and already we
are told the short experience of the blessings of Piedmontese rule
which the Legations have enjoyed has sufficed to make them regret the
change. The increase of taxes and the military conscription are a
price higher than they are willing to pay for the _name_ of liberty
under the yoke of Victor Emmanuel. We believe that the following
account of the political creed of the great majority of the Pope's
subjects is as accurate as it is moderate. We are indebted for it to a
French ecclesiastic, who has most gratefully followed M. About through
all his misstatements, and published a complete refutation of them. He
tells us that most Romans are of opinion that people may be happy or
miserable under _any_ form of government, according to the way in
which it is administered; that a government of _some_ kind there must
be; or disorder would be universal; and that the Pope being at the
head of the Roman government, is the cause of many advantages: it
attracts princes and other wealthy foreigners to Rome; sometimes
seventy, eighty, or even ninety thousand strangers at a time; it saves
them from the scourge of war; the operations of commerce, if not so
extensive as in some other capitals, are at least more secure and
stable; there is no financial crisis or panic in the money market
returning at periodical intervals, and spreading ruin and desolation
through innumerable families; industry and good conduct, crowned by
success in business, open the way to the possession of estates and
titles; the ranks of the privileged class itself, so to call it--the
clergy--are open to all comers; the great majority of lucrative
offices about the court, prelacies, bishoprics, judgeships, etc., are
given to members of the middle class, no less than three-fourths of
the cardinals (including Cardinal Antonelli himself) having been
chosen from among them; that ninety-nine out of every hundred holding
office under government are laymen; that not more than 100 priests
altogether are employed in the administration of secular affairs; and
that among officials of the same rank, a layman always receives higher
pay than an ecclesiastic; that even in {331} offices which, as having
to deal with matters of religion, might seem fairly to belong to
ecclesiastics alone, two-thirds of the posts are filled by laymen, and
the salaries are divided in about the same proportion; that the Popes,
haying no families of their own, are always spending their private
fortunes on public works for the good of the country, or on the
rebuilding and decoration of churches, to the great encouragement of
the fine arts, and the support of innumerable families; or, finally,
on schools and hospitals, and other works of charity. They know, too,
that, thanks to this liberality, the education of their children need
cost them nothing; that schools of all kinds are more numerous (in
proportion to the population) in Rome than in any other European
capital, and these not only schools of primary instruction for the
children of the poor, containing about 17,000 scholars, of both sexes,
but also for the middle and upper classes, 3,000 of whom receive here
an education fitted to qualify them for any profession they may
prefer, quite gratuitously.

This we believe to be a very fair account of the state of feeling on
political matters among the majority of the Roman people; and if it is
not satisfactory to our modern liberals, because it ignores all their
bright theories and is content to forego the blessings of
representative governments and triennial parliaments, we cannot help
it. We think there is an intimate conviction in most Roman minds that
God's honor and glory, and man's truest happiness, are more earnestly
sought for and more fully attained in that city than elsewhere; and
that this conviction both does, and ought to, reconcile them to any
political disadvantages which such a state of things may entail, as
Mons. Veuillot has well said.

Elsewhere, man is considered primarily as a power; in Rome, he is
primarily a soul. At Rome, the public manners, following more nearly
the august guidance of the Church, have more frequently and more
closely than elsewhere approached the divine ideal of the gospel. I
know what cruel ravages have been wrought by long and wicked
agitations, begun and fostered from without; I know that every people
has its dregs, its populace; but I know also that at Rome this very
populace is not without faith, and I know, too, what solid Christian
virtues adorn the true Roman hearth. Rarely or never do twenty years
roll by without Rome giving to the world one of those heroes who
devote themselves to the love of God and of souls with the triumphant
energy of sanctity. Blest and encouraged by the Popes, these chosen
ones have always left disciples to prolong, as it were, their own
existence, and works which have not perished. And the enlightened
Christian conscience, despising the empty boasts of ignorant pride,
will always assign the first place among nations to that which best
preserves the faith and produces the greatest number of saints.

We are well aware that this test of national greatness would find no
favor in the ears of an English Parliament, but we are foolish enough
to think that there may be truth in it for all that.

{332}

Translated from the German.

MALINES AND WÜRZBURG.

A SKETCH OF THE CATHOLIC CONGRESSES HELD AT MALINES AND WÜRZBURG.

BY ANDREW NIEDERMASSER.

CHAPTER III.

SCIENCE AND THE PRESS.

In the Belgian congress the section of science and the press does not
treat of the same subjects that occupy the attention of that section
in the Catholic conventions in Germany. At Malines Christian
instruction and education are the principal questions debated; in
Germany, on the other hand, the university question is the chief
subject of discussion; at Malines it is slimly attended; at Würzburg,
Frankfort, etc., on the contrary, there was a crowded attendance, and
the proceedings were of the most interesting character. At Malines
forty-five Catholic journalists met and passed important resolutions;
at Würzburg, more than sixty representatives of German science held a
separate conference and drew up an address to the Holy Father. Even
the meeting of literati held at Munich may be called the offspring of
the Catholic general conventions. At Munich, in 1861, Professor
Michaelis proposed a scheme planned by Döllinger for a meeting of the
German savans, which was rejected. Hereupon the project was somewhat
changed and a separate meeting held at Munich. Its results are well
known.

The principal debaters in this section of the Malines congress were
the genial and venerable Count de Villeneuve, Lenormant the daring
traveller, Lecheoni, Soudan, Léger, du Clisieux, Ducpetiaux, Chopinet,
Soenens, Baeten, and Decoster. The presiding officer was Namèche, of
Louvain, who, together with de Ram, Lanny, Delcour, Laforêt, and Perin
worthily represented the university at Louvain. His neighbor was van
der Haeghen, of Brussels, a writer whose name is well known, not only
in Belgium but in foreign countries. Though an excellent linguist, he
deems it his first duty to refute historical misstatements and to
expose without mercy the errors of modern Protestant historians. As
Onno Klopp unsparingly demolishes German scribblers, so van der
Haeghen puts down the Belgian dabblers in history. He is intimately
acquainted with German literature.

The subjects that occupied the attention of the section were popular
instruction, the classics as a means of mental training, the
establishment of professorships on social questions and discipline.

On popular instruction Monseigneur Dupanloup delivered a discourse,
which was the event of the congress, and which has since been read by
all Europe. Count Desbassayns de Richemout, of Paris, an orator
favorably known in Germany as the spirited advocate of a Catholic
university, spoke on the mental activity of society. In the Romanic
world the name of Dupanloup acts like a charm. If a charity sermon is
to be held, which is to move and electrify Paris and all France, the
Bishop of Orleans is called upon. In 1862, when it became necessary to
give a new impetus to the Catholic cause in the East, Dupanloup was
summoned to Rome to {333} call the nations of the earth to a sense of
their duties; thousands rushed to hear him preach at the church of St.
Andrea del Galle. At Malines he met with the same success. When
Dupanloup speaks every listener glows with Catholic zeal, that becomes
more and more intense as he proceeds and finally bursts forth in a
fiery enthusiasm, whose influence reaches far and wide. Such was the
spectacle witnessed at Rome, and repeated at Paris and Malines. One of
the brightest ornaments of the French hierarchy, Dupanloup on every
occasion expresses the opinions of Catholic France with irresistible
force. No wonder, then, that even the emperor fears the bishop's
eloquence. His writings are read by all, and admired for their classic
style. As an orator, he enchants the French and Belgians; on the
Germans, however, he exerts a less powerful influence; they prefer
Montalembert, F. Hermann, or F. Felix. His discourse at Malines was
not, properly speaking, a discourse, but a familiar conversation,
grand and splendid in diction, and full of brilliant turns and telling
_jeux de mots_. The remarks made by Dupanloup on August 30, when
returning thanks for his enthusiastic reception, were a masterpiece of
eloquence, which will never be forgotten by those who listened to him.
The Bishop of Orleans is a man of the people. "I do not know much; but
what I know best and love best is the people." If Dupanloup's speech
was the brightest gem of the congress in 1864, Montalembert, in his
speech on "Religious Liberty," eclipsed all his competitors in 1863.
Montalembert's discourse lasted five hours, two hours longer than
Dupanloup's speech. Montalembert and Dupanloup are the most prominent
representatives of Catholic France. Called by God to battle for his
Church, both are leading millions of soldiers arrayed under the banner
of Christ to victory and triumphs. Montalembert, the athlete of the
tribune, hailed by Pius IX. himself as one of the bravest of the
Christian host, cherishes for the Church an ardent, pure, and holy
love. This love may sometimes carry him too far. At Malines, in 1863,
he laid down many propositions not approved by the congress. The
Cardinal of Malines, however, and the Bishop of Orleans, charitably
threw a veil over every thing objectionable, thus resolving into
perfect harmony everything discordant. Dupanloup evidently thought of
his friend Montalembert when, in his remarks on August 30, 1864, he
uttered the words: "Let us not confound opinions and principles, vital
questions and domestic difficulties; among us let there be no
differences, no disunion, no imprudence."

Count Richemont, of Paris, is a true nobleman in appearance and
bearing; his black beard adds new beauty to his handsome face and
sparkling eyes. His gestures are appropriate and graceful. He speaks
very rapidly, however, swallowing many words, so that we Germans did
not understand him well; in fact, we read his speech with more
pleasure than we listened to it. A more favorable impression was made
by Viscount Anatole Lemercier, of Paris, a man of agreeable manners, a
true Parisian, full of wit and humor, a graceful speaker, who will be
heard with pleasure by any assembly. But, great as are Lemercier's
merits, he has a dangerous rival in Henry de Riancey, who unites in
himself every quality required to become a general favorite. Among the
French journalists he is one of the ablest. In his opinions he steers
a middle course between the extreme views of Montalembert and
Veuillot, or Barrier, Faconet and Chantrel, the oracles of the
"Monde;" and "L'Union," the journal of which he is the editor,
occupies an intermediate position between "Le Monde" and "Le
Correspondant" But de Riancey's labors are not confined to his
editorial sanctum; he cherishes holy poverty, is untiring in the
practice of Christian charity, and justly deserves {334} the title of
"Father of the Poor." These holy practices give an unction to his
words, and throw a halo around his person which he does not even
suspect, but which gains for him the hearts of all that see or hear of
him. His speeches in the section of Christian economy excited great
interest, and when speaking on matters connected with the Catholic
faith he reminded us of the fathers of the Church. His discourse
before the general meeting of the congress, Sept. 12, 1864, was a gem.
He spoke as a soldier of Christ, as an heroic defender of the Church,
showing at once that he was a veteran, who had often struggled for the
triumph of principle. The future does not inspire de Riancey with
anxiety or fear; he is full of hope and confidence, believing that he
lives in an age destined to accomplish great things. He is not
discouraged by the superior power of his opponents, for he bears in
mind Christ's promise to his Church.

When speaking, a pleasant smile rests on de Riancey's lips, and his
features reflect the cheerful calmness of his soul. His friendly eyes
charm his listeners, who regret to see them fixed on his manuscript,
for de Riancey reads his speeches. If the applause of the assembly
become too long and noisy, the speaker's face beams with satisfaction,
and he gracefully passes his hand through his hair. De Riancey
fascinates the hearts of all his hearers.

It is hard to say which of the many eminent French orators at Malines
possesses most claims to our preference. Who is the greatest orator,
Count Montalembert or Bishop Dupanloup, de Riancey or Père Felix,
Viscount Lemercier, Count Richemont, Viscount de Melan, Lasserée, or
Lenormant? Each of them has excellences peculiar to himself that claim
our admiration. In like manner, among the great Italian masters,
Michael Angelo is first in grandeur of style and conception; Titian is
distinguished for the grace of his figures; Correggio for their
angelic purity; whilst Raphael merits the palm for fertility of
invention, correctness of expression, and variety. Père Felix, we have
already stated, pleased the Germans more than Bishop Dupanloup. His
concluding discourse, delivered in St Rombaut's cathedral at Malines,
Sept 3, 1864, was a philosophical review of ecclesiastical history;
the grandeur of its conception well befitted the importance of the
occasion. In appearance, F. Felix is not so majestic as F. de
Ravignan, nor has he so powerful and sonorous a voice as his
predecessor. His discourses betray less enthusiastic love of liberty
than those of F. Lacordaire, but still he is at present _the_ orator
of the day, no less than de Ravignan and Lacordaire were some years
ago. F. Lacordaire, the Dominican, addressed his words to thousands of
young men, who, carried away by the political and literary revolutions
of 1830, were frantic with ideas of liberty, who were attracted and
tormented by the "infinite," and panting for vague, undefined ideals.
This yearning Lacordaire strove to satisfy, by pointing out to them
that Christ and his Church were the realization of their indefinite
ideals, and by teaching them to sanctify liberty by devotion and
sacrifice. The vast schemes of 1830 were not carried out, and their
ideals were not realized. French society felt the vanity of its
aspirations, and was seized by a deadly lethargy, a kind of despair,
as if it had suffered shipwreck. Like so many flaming meteors F. de
Ravignan's conferences suddenly shed a stream of light on the
universal gloom. How majestic was his appearance, how sublime his
language, how ardent his faith, and how holy his life! All France
listened to the Jesuit, and seemed spell-bound. Irreligion was
banished from thousands of hearts, and thousands returned to the
practice of their religious duties and were saved. The spirit of the
age took another direction; men busied themselves exclusively with
their {335} material interests, and they thought only of money, of
steam, of machinery and other branches of industry. For many years
progress has been the watchword--material progress--which has brought
about all these wonders of modern times, which is due to human energy
alone, and which, for this very reason, deifies itself in its pride
and threatens Christianity with destruction. To combat these false
notions, God raised up F. Felix. He devoted his attention to the
popular idol, progress, but he dealt with it in his own way. In Lent,
1856, he began, in the church of Notre Dame, in Paris, his famous
conferences on "Progress by Means of Christianity." Archbishop Sibour
had blessed the orator and his subject. His success was astounding,
and henceforth F. Felix will hold an honorable place among French
pulpit orators. F. Felix is about fifty-five years of age; he has an
intelligent countenance, a noble, manly brow, betokening a deep,
penetrating mind, and a firm will. Since 1856 his voice has improved,
having gained both in compass and in sweetness. It is clear and
piercing, completely filling the immense church of Our Lady at Paris.
The two discourses delivered by F. Felix at Malines (Sept. 2 and 3,
1864) are perhaps his most finished productions. He did not call forth
any momentary burst of enthusiasm, but produced a lasting impression,
that will console and strengthen us in the struggle of life.

The university question, which has been so prominent in Germany, was
not discussed at Malines. The Belgians have had for thirty years a
Catholic university at Louvain, which they support at a great expense,
and for the maintenance of which they constantly struggle. The English
speak of establishing a Catholic college at Oxford. Canon Oakley, a
learned English convert, is working zealously to realize the plan, and
if Newman will agree to take the helm, the enterprise will prosper. We
hope the project will succeed, for English Catholics will not send
their sons to the Catholic university at Dublin, which does not
flourish, and numbers only some two hundred students. In Holland a
Catholic university is not even thought of.

The interests of the Catholic press were not neglected at Malines.
Belgium has done much to raise its character, as was shown by Count de
Theux. Since the congress of 1863 the Belgian journals--especially the
"Journal de Bruxelles"--have steadily progressed. In Belgium, small as
it is, there are fifty Catholic periodicals, some French and some
Flemish. The "Journal de Bruxelles" already rivals the Paris "Monde,"
and both are far in advance of any German journal. At Malines the
members of the press form a section of their own, in which the
principal papers are represented by their directors, editors, or
correspondents. The staff of the "Correspondant" was represented by
Count Francis de Champagny, Viscount Anatole Lemercier, and by Francis
Lenormant, the favorite of the Parisians. "Le Monde," too, had sent
its delegates; prominent among these was Hermann Kuhn, the Berlin
correspondent, who contributes valuable articles on Catholic Germany.
He appeared for the "Mayence Journal" also. We are already acquainted
with de Riancey, the editor of "L'Union." The director of "La Patrie,"
published in Bruges, Neut, was president of the section. Although I
earnestly desired to form the personal acquaintance of M. Neut,
circumstances prevented it; but he appeared to be the leading spirit
of the section. Affable and obliging, lively and ardent, he is a
flowing speaker, well fitted to take the lead, and a bold,
uncompromising Catholic, without a trace of fogyism. To see him is to
love him. He is a man of great practical ability, and writes a popular
style resembling that of Ernest Zander, of Munich. Like Zander he has
grown grey in journalism. The vice-presidents of the section were
Count Celestinè de Martini, {336} director of the "Journal de
Bruxelles;" Leon Lavedan, who writes for the "Gazette de France;" and
Lasserre, editor of the "Contemporain," well known in Germany as a
controversial writer. Lebrocquoi, editor of "La Voix du Luxembourg,"
acted as secretary. Digard of Paris took an active part in the
discussions of the section. Spain was represented by Enrique de
Villaroya and Eduardo Maria de Villarrazza; Portugal by Don Almeida.
The Abbé de Chelen and F. Terwecoren also deserve mention. Verspeyen,
editor of "Le Bien Public," at Ghent, is one of the youngest and most
spirited journalists in Belgium. He is a good speaker, very sarcastic
and impressive. On his recommendation Casoni, of Bologna, who has been
shamefully persecuted by the Sardinians, received a heavy subsidy from
the Malines congress. Lemmens, a very clever man, is associated with
Verspeyen in the editorship of "Le Bien Public," which compares with
the "Journal de Bruxelles" in the same way as "Le Monde" and the
"Weekly Register" compare with "Le Correspondant" and "The Home and
Foreign Review." De Haulleville, formerly editor of the "Universel,"
and at present connected with the "Correspondant," is one of the best
Belgian writers. He is not only a journalist, but also a thorough
historian, well versed in German literature. I must not forget to
mention Demarteau, the editor of the "Liege Journal;" A. Coomans, an
able speaker, who represented the "Antwerp Journal," and Frappier, the
editor of "L'Ami de l'Ordre." Among the English journalists the most
prominent were Simpson, a friend of Sir John Acton, who wrote for the
"Rambler" and "Home and Foreign Review," and Wigley, editor of the
"Weekly Register," who writes for the "Monde" also, a worthy rival of
Coquille, Faconet, Leon Pagès, Kuhn, La Tour, d'Aignan, and H.
Vrignault. Among the periodicals that had sent representatives to
Malines were: "L'Ouvrier," "Le Messager de la Charité," "La Revue
Chrétiénne," "Le Journal des Villes et des Campagnes," "El Diario" of
Barcelona, "La Regeneracion" of Madrid, "L'Union" of Valencia, "El
Register Catolico" of Barcelona, "La Belgique," "La Paix," "Les Précis
Historiques," "Le Courrier de Bruxelles," "Le Moniteur de Louvain,"
"L'Escaut," "Le Courrier de la Sambre," "L'Union de Charleroy," "Le
Nouvelliste de Verviers," "Le Journal de Hainaut," "L'Impartial de
Soignies," "La Gazette de Vivelles," and several others.

The assembly consisted of forty-five journalists, and their
proceedings made a favorable impression. The gentlemen of the press
knew why they had met. It was resolved to hold every year a general
convention of Catholic journalists and to establish at Brussels an
international telegraphic bureau for Catholic journals, because most
of the bureaus now existing are in the hands of Jews, who frequently
forge untruthful telegrams. The meeting tended to foster mutual good
feeling among the representatives of the different journals, and
resolutions were passed to secure unity of action in the Catholic
press.

The managers of the "Correspondant" strove to obtain the patronage of
the Malines congress by distributing a list of contributors. In fact,
its staff comprises some of the most able Catholic journalists, and we
deem it proper to give, the names of Bishop Dupanloup, the Duke
d'Ayen, the Prince de Broglie, the Count Montalembert, the Count
Falloux, the Count de Carné, the Count de Champagny, Viscount
Lemercier, Viscount de Melun, Vicar-General Meignan, Prof. Perreyve,
F. Gratry, Villemain, de Laprade, Augustine Cochin, Foisset, Leonce de
Lavergne, Wallon, N. de Pontmartin, Lenormant, de Chaillard, Amedée
Achard, Marmier, and de Haulleville. No doubt it would be difficult to
find a greater array of talent. The "Correspondant" appears once a
month, making six large volumes per year.

{337}

I had been present at a meeting of journalists connected with the
second general congress of the larger German states held at Frankfort
in October, 1864. Twenty-seven representatives of the German press
attended. Many resolutions were passed, but not one of them was
carried out; nay, the third general congress of the larger German
states never convened.

The journalists of the minor German states, also, met at Eisenach on
May 22, 1864. Thirty-four members were present, and resolved to meet
at stated periods in order to consult about the interests of the
German press. A committee of delegates from seven journals was
appointed, whose headquarters was to be at Frankfort-on-the-Main until
the next general meeting in 1865. From the transaction of these
assemblies, it has become evident that journalism in Germany is still
in its infancy. The German journalists cannot compare with those of
other countries. They form no class of their own; they lack
self-respect and _esprit de corps_; in short, they are, without
exception, in a lamentable state of dependence, for they are not
wealthy nor do they receive becoming remuneration.

In Belgium the press is better organized; it is not oppressed by
taxation, and this is the reason why Brussels alone can boast of
sixty-seven periodicals. In Belgium 10 to 12 francs will procure a
well-written daily paper, far surpassing our German journals.

The Belgian journalists whom I met at Malines despise the Catholic
press in Germany. They reproach us with not doing our duty, and sneer
at us for being duped by Jewish writers.

Journalism is an important profession, whose members should be
conscientious and honorable men. The journalist addresses his language
to an audience far more numerous than the professor's, and at present
his influence is, so to say, unlimited; he reaches every part of
educated society and sways public opinion. He is called to be the
standard-bearer of liberty and truth. He must, therefore, implant
sound principles in the popular mind, and, standing above the reach of
paltry prejudice, unite in himself a high degree of intelligence and
true devotion to the eternal laws of the Church. Such are the
qualities which a journalist should possess. Without independence,
dignity, and moral freedom he cannot do justice to the task imposed on
him by God. "_Impavidum ferient ruinae_."

In England, America, and Belgium, the press wields a powerful
influence; it has become sovereign, and is necessary to the nation's
life. Science feels that unless it is diffused it is powerless, and
that the school-room is too narrow a field; hence it is that men of
learning make use of the press. In Catholic Germany, on the contrary,
there are still districts where the journalist is looked upon with a
jealous eye, and where it is deemed preferable to read papers written
by Jews and literary gipsies.

"Let the Church be free, let her unfold fully her immense power, let
her extend her influence to every grade and station of society, and
things will assume a more promising aspect. Let the Church be again
respected, let her word be heeded in the palace no less than in the
hut, let homage be paid to her in the courts of justice and in
institutions of learning, at the university no less than at the
village school, and a new and golden era will dawn upon us." These
words, first addressed to the German nation by its bishops, have been
repeated again and again by the Catholic general conventions. The
Church has a right to watch over popular education and schools, but,
as Moufang says, she has an equally undeniable title to direct the
education of those who are destined to be the leaders of the people.
The Church is the mother of universities, but, alas! most of her
daughters have forsaken her. Germany possesses eighteen Protestant
universities, but she cannot boast {338} of an equal number of
Catholic institutions. The Church has been robbed of her educational
establishments in the same way in which she has been deprived of her
monasteries and other possessions. Of the twenty-two German
universities six only are Catholic. At the mixed universities
Catholics are by no means on a footing of equality with Protestants,
and a professor or a fellow who is a staunch Catholic will almost
certainly fall into disgrace. The Protestant professors number ten to
one; a great grievance, no doubt.

Even previous to 1848, far-sighted men were penetrated with the
necessity of establishing a purely Catholic university. But since the
emphatic approval of the scheme by the episcopal council of Würzburg,
in 1848, the Catholic conventions have displayed a lively interest in
the plan and have done all in their power to further its realization.
At Regensburg (1849), Mayence (1851), Münster (1852), Vienna (1853),
and Linz (1856), it received the fullest consideration. The convention
of Linz recommended in the warmest terms the restoration of the
university of Salzburg. This recommendation was repeated by the
Salzburg convention in 1857, which requested the prince-archbishop of
Salzburg, Baron von Farnoczky, to undertake this affair, so important
to Germany. At Salzburg the debates on this question were very stormy,
because Innsbruck claimed the preference. In fact, the university of
Innsbruck has been much better attended of late years.

But the most decisive steps in this regard were taken by the
convention of Aix-la-Chapelle. Prof. Möller, of Louvain, delivered an
eloquent discourse on the establishment of the Louvain university! In
glowing words he represented to the assembly how, on the opening of
the first course of lectures at Malines, in 1834, but eighty-six
students followed the course, how the number of students increased in
1885 to 261 and the following year to 360, whilst at the present day
the three state universities together number 800 students less than
Louvain alone! He spoke of the generosity of the Belgians, of their
yearly subscriptions, and of their collections, to which even the
poorest contribute their mite. He reminded them that the Louvain
professors are among the most distinguished for mental activity, and
that they form men of principle, who honorably fulfil the designs of
God upon them. "And is it impossible for the great Catholic German
nation to do what four millions of Belgians have accomplished? Follow
the example thus set you; German laymen, raise your voices, and shrink
not before difficulties or obstacles. Impossible--the word is unworthy
of Germans!" By this speech of the noble Möller the assembly was
aroused, and its members were ready to undergo every sacrifice in
order to realize their plans. On the following day, when the
convention had met in secret session, Theising, of Warendorf, brought
up the university question, and a debate followed, in which Baron von
Andlaw, of Freiburg, Schulte, of Prague, Count Brandis, of Austria,
Thissen, of Frankfort, Möller, of Louvain, and Heinrich, of Mayence,
participated. It was at first proposed to appoint a committee, which
was to exert itself energetically in favor of the project. Councillor
Phillips, Baron Felix von Loe, Count Brandis, Baron Henry von Andlaw,
Chevalier Joseph von Buss, and Baron Wilderich von Ketteler, were
appointed members of the committee and their nomination received with
applause. The motion also provided for the collection of the money
necessary to establish the university. A wordy discourse followed, but
no definite conclusion was arrived at, when Baron von Andlaw struck
the right chord. "I will give $500 for the establishment of a Catholic
university," he exclaimed. "I will give $500 more," cried Councillor
Phillips of Vienna, "I subscribe $300," said {339} Zander, of Munich.
Count Richemont, of Paris, next ascended the tribune, addressed a few
enthusiastic words to the assembly, and subscribed $500. He was
rapidly followed by Counts Spee, Loe, Schaasberg, Stolberg,
Hoensbroich, Brandis, and many other nobles from the Rhenish provinces
and Westphalia, who came forward with generous contributions. Prof.
Schulte, of Prague, and Canon Moufang each subscribed a thousand
florins. Dumortier, of Brussels, Prisac, of Aix-la-Chapelle, Martens,
of Pelplin, Thymus, Bachem, and Pastor Becker also gave solid proofs
of their interest in the enterprise. In a short time the subscriptions
amounted to $7,000, and at Würzburg, in 1864, $30,000 had already been
subscribed.

The scene at Aix-la-Chapelle was more imposing than any other that
marked the sixteen general conventions of the Catholic societies in
Germany. Joy and enthusiasm were depicted on every countenance, and
hope filled every breast. The whole of Catholic Germany shared in
these feelings; for there was now substantial reason for believing in
the ultimate success of the university scheme. True, subscriptions did
not continue to pour in so rapidly as at Aix-la-Chapelle, and the
nobility of southern Germany, in particular, were very remiss in
performing their duty. To collect $7,000,000 is no easy task,
especially as the German clergy have been deprived of almost all their
possessions, whilst the mass of the people show little zeal for the
undertaking. Still the agitation of this question has been productive
of great good to Catholicity in Germany, for it has inspired all of us
with redoubled zeal and energy. The Catholics have begun to claim
their just rights and to insist upon them till they are granted. As
the Rhenish Westphalian nobility have demanded the restoration of the
old Catholic university of Münster, so in Bavaria, where there is a
purely Protestant university, the Catholics should urge the
establishment of a Catholic one, for it is our first duty, as was
remarked by Schulte at Aix-la-Chapelle in 1862, and by Moufang at
Würzburg in 1864, to insist that universities which were founded by
Catholics should retain their original character. In mixed
universities, the Catholic professors will, henceforth, strain every
nerve to secure true equality. Where this equality is trampled under
foot, they will protest and demand their rights. The professors will
be supported by the Catholic students, who were ably represented at
Frankfort and Würzburg by Anschütz and Baron Dr. von Hertling. Do not
the Catholics outnumber the Protestants in Germany? No one knew
Germany and its tribes better than Frederick Böhmer, of Frankfort, and
he always maintained that the Catholics can boast of as many able men
as the Protestants, and that southern Germany, far from being
inferior, surpasses the northern races in mental abilities. To carry
out the programme laid down above will require our best energies, but
we must, moreover, found a _new university_ a purely Catholic and free
institution, untrammelled by state dictation, and entirely under the
direction of the Church. To do this the bishops, the nobles, and the
clergy must use their best endeavors; but the professors, too, must do
their share, and not look on with cold indifference, as is the case
with most of them. If the state encroaches unceasingly on the rights
of the Church in the realms of science, and if its tyranny
persistently oppresses the most able votaries of science because they
are Catholics, why should we not rely on ourselves, and seek strength
in union? There is neither truce nor rest for us until we are not only
equal but superior to our opponents in every branch of science.

Since its organization, two years ago, the university committee has
done all in its power to promote the good cause. One of the most
zealous members is the young Prince Charles, of {340}
Löwenstein-Werthheim, who has been substituted for the deceased Count
Brandis.

Canon Moufang, of Mayence, spoke on the university question at
Würzburg in 1864. Of all the members of the convention he was best
fitted to do justice to the subject. Since 1848 Dr. Moufang has been
present at almost every one of the sixteen general conventions, and
whatever good has been accomplished by them he has promoted and
encouraged. Connected with most of the Catholic movements of our age,
he understands the feelings of his Catholic countrymen and knows how
to give forcible and opportune expression to them; at times his words
are irresistible, like the mountain torrent. At Munich he delivered a
discourse on the Holy Father and his difficulties; in Aix-la-Chapelle
he thundered against the want of principle and of true manliness which
distinguishes our times; at Frankfort he ridiculed anti-Catholic
prejudices, and at Würzburg he convinced his hearers of the necessity
of a Catholic university. But the school question, also, and the
relations between capital and labor, he has lately treated in an
admirable manner. "_Il faut être de son temps_," is Moufang's motto,
and hence he is one of the representative men of public opinion in
Catholic Germany, and when he combats the enemies of the Church the
advantage is always on his side. On the nineteenth of December, 1864,
Dr. Moufang celebrated the twenty-fifth anniversary of his ordination.
Hundreds of priests from the dioceses of Mayence, Limburg, and
Freiburg were present on this solemn occasion, which they will cherish
for ever in their memory. Dr. Moufang's name immediately suggests that
of Canon Heinrich. They are a "_par nobile fratrum_" in literature as
well as in public life, emulating the example of Raess and Weiss and
of Augustus and Peter Reichensperger. At the age of thirty, after
promoting the organization of the first general convention at Mayence,
Dr. Heinrich was appointed secretary of the national council held at
Würzburg in 1848. Since 1848 he distinguished himself at almost all
the general conventions by his activity and the zeal he displayed in
furthering every Catholic enterprise. He is equally active in the
committees, in the secret and in the open sessions. He is not only a
favorite speaker, but also a skilful controversialist and a journalist
of no mean ability. He published the best reply to Renan, and as a
theologian and jurist he is able to cope with any adversary.

Prof. Haffner is the worthy colleague of Moufang and Heinrich. He
cultivates the science which Aristotle and Plato pronounced the
sublimest of all sciences--philosophy. But Haffner is a philosopher
who is intelligible even to ordinary mortals; he makes a practical use
of his knowledge, and is a favorite at the Rhenish clubs. In fact,
there is no reason why he should not be so. His speeches are
instructive, sublime in conception, and well written. The details are
well arranged and he has due regard for literary perspective. His
incomparable humor is unmixed with biting sarcasm, and his figures are
exquisitely beautiful. Haffner's speeches are perfect gems. Long may
you live, noble son of Suabia!

The Mayence delegates form an attractive group, and they all work
right earnestly for the success of the conventions. Beside those
already noticed, I shall mention Dr. Hirschel, canon of the cathedral,
who presided at the first general meeting of the Christian art unions
at Cologne in 1856; Monsignore Count Max von Galen, who delivered an
elegant discourse on the Blessed Virgin at Aix-la-Chapelle; Professors
Holzammer and Hundhausen, profound scholars; Frederic Schneidier,
president of the young men's associations in the diocese of Mayence;
and Falk, president of the social clubs or casinos.

{341}

Councillor Phillips, of Vienna, is generally chosen chairman of the
section of science and the press. Richly does he deserve this
distinction, for Phillips is an ornament to German literature, and his
work on canon law is a "_monumentum aere perennius_" which will be
numbered among the German classics. On the Catholic press, too,
Phillips has conferred a great benefit, for, in conjunction with
Jareke and Joseph von Görres, he founded the "Historico-Political
Journal," of Munich, which he edited for a long time, assisted by
Guido Görres. Being sent as a delegate to the Frankfort Parliament,
Phillips was numbered among the men of "the stone house;" that is to
say, he belonged to the Catholic party, and became the associate of
Döllinger, Lasaulx, Sepp, Förser, Geritz, Dieringer, Von Bally, and
others who took an active part in the debate on the relations between
church and state. Since 1862 Phillips has been chairman of the
committee on the establishment of the Catholic university. The
speeches of the learned professor were remarkable for the force of
their arguments and the clearness of their ideas. His committee
reports are to the point, and he presides with tact and ability.

Privy Councillor Ringseis delivered telling speeches at
Aix-la-Chapelle and Munich; at Frankfort and Würzburg he did not make
his appearance, being already too much bowed down by age. Ringseis was
born in 1785. In the literary world he occupies a prominent position;
but he has always been more successful as an orator than as a writer.
His appearance is inspiring, his words enthusiastic. The simplicity of
his heart, his pleasing cordiality, and the unchanging freshness of
his intellect, endear him to all with whom he comes in contact; yet he
is one of the men who have bravely weathered all the storms of our
age. He resembles an oak that proudly withstands every hurricane.

Baron von Moy was president of the Würzburg convention. From 1832 to
1837 he lectured on constitutional and international laws, and from
1837 he was for ten years professor at Munich, at a time when the fame
of the Munich university attracted hundreds of young men to the
Bavarian capital, when all Germany knew that there was a great
Catholic university at Munich, and when, in the words of Moufang,
"Görres, Ringseis, Döllinger, Möhler, Slee, Phillips, Moy,
Windischmann, and their colleagues, formed the central group of
Catholic Munich." Baron von Moy presided at Würzburg with much tact
and success. Age has already made its inroads, but his voice is still
rich and agreeable. He is untainted by the ungenial formality of our
German professors. In him solid piety is coupled with affability,
cordiality, and benevolence, and adorned by true Catholic
cheerfulness.

The Catholic professors, on the whole, have taken little interest in
these conventions, because the majority of them are unacquainted with
real life. There are exceptions, however, such as those mentioned
above. Schulte, of Prague, also, has displayed a laudable zeal in
every convention until 1862. He favors true progress, and earnestly
wishes the Catholics not only to rival but surpass the Protestants in
every respect. Sometimes he is a little too exacting in his demands;
his expressions are rather strong, and his strictures on abuses are
not sufficiently tempered with moderation. Schulte is no visionary,
for he is thoroughly acquainted with the state of the Church, but he
is carried away by a burning zeal, a kind of holy anger. Hermann
Müller, professor at the Würzburg university, a jurist and philologer,
and formerly well known as a journalist, was the most handsome member
of the Würzburg convention, and his magnificent beard attracted
universal attention. The university was likewise represented by
Professors Contzen and Ludwig and by Dr. Wirsing. Long continued study
has left its traces on the features of Prof. Vering, of Heidelberg,
but it has not {342} hardened his heart against the claims of the
Catholic cause.

At Würzburg sixty-three professors and authors signed an address and
sent it to the Holy Father. In it they declare their readiness to
submit unconditionally to the decision of the Holy See regarding the
meeting of the German _literati_. I cannot refrain from saying a few
words on this meeting, especially as it may be said to have originated
in the general conventions. In fact, the sensation caused by the
Würzburg meeting has by no means subsided. I have lying before me
Döllinger's "Discourse on the Past and Present of Catholic Theology,"
and criticisms on it by the Mayence "Katholik," the Paris "Monde," and
the "Civiltà Cattolica;" also Prof. Hergenröther's speech at Würzburg
on meetings of European scholars, the pamphlet of Prof. Michelis, of
Braunsberg, and a cutting reply in the November number of "Der
Katholik." To these I may add the papal brief to the Archbishop of
Munich (December 21, 1863), the despatch of Cardinal Antonelli to the
nuncio at Munich (July 5, 1864), and the letter of the Holy Father to
Professors Hergenröther and Denzinger, dated October 20, 1864. I fear
the matter will take a disagreeable turn, and that our learned
professors will bring themselves into difficulty. No doubt there is
much truth in Hergenröther's reflections on his colleagues: "All our
learned men are not as prudent as they should be; they have not
sufficient tact, and are wanting in knowledge of the actual state of
things; many a professor in his sanctum acquires ideas wholly at
variance with real life."

The Catholic general conventions will not alter their character in
order to busy themselves with purely scientific concerns; in short, it
cannot become a congress of learned men, nor a substitute for such a
congress. Fully persuaded of this fact, Prof. Denzinger declared, in
the most explicit terms, that the meeting of the German _literati_ was
independent of the sixteenth general convention, which was nowise
responsible for its doings.

Moreover, it is a fact to be borne in mind, that the Holy See has not
forbidden such meetings, that the German bishops do not wish them to
be interfered with, and that no Catholic party, as Michelis says, has
intrigued to prevent them.

If, in spite of all this, the matter does not prosper, the learned men
alone are to blame. It seems to be extremely difficult to prevent
dissensions among men who devote themselves to different branches of
science, to unite in the bonds of friendship and concord the disciples
of the speculative, the historical, and the practical sciences. If I
belonged to the class of men of which I am speaking, I would express
my opinions more fully. Why did not the illustrious theologians of
Tübingen deign to come to Munich in 1863? Why is there so slim an
attendance of German professors at the Catholic congresses? Why do the
representatives of sciences so intimately connected remain estranged
from each other? A closer union would bring about renewed activity,
prejudices would be dispelled, the jealous reserve with which we now
meet on every side would give way to a more healthy state of things,
and youthful genius would be encouraged by the conviction that they
are stayed and supported by men of experience and acknowledged merit.

Will the congress of 1863 remain a fragment, as the general meeting of
the art unions in 1857? We hope not. The best rejoinder to all that
has been said on such meetings would be a general European congress of
all learned Catholics, at Brussels, Greneva, or Frankfort--attended by
Döllinger, Phillips, and Alzog, as the representatives of Germany; by
Perin, Delcour, and de Ram; by Newman, Oakley, Acton, and Robertson;
by Meignan, Montalembert, and Rio, and by the Italians Nardi, Cantu,
and Casoni. The union between the civilized nations of Europe is
becoming {343} closer day by day; will our scholars alone remain
stationary and isolated? If they follow this course, the day of
retribution will soon arrive.

Foremost among the promoters of scientific progress, during the second
half of the nineteenth century, stands a Catholic prince, King
Maximilian II. of Bavaria. History tells of few princes who have so
liberally patronized men of science. With royal munificence he has
founded and endowed institutions of learning and fostered scientific
enterprise. He will always be praised as one of the most generous
patrons of German science, and in the history of literature and
science will occupy an honorable position. Unfortunately, however, the
ideas of the noble prince were not realized by the men he protected.
He lived to be sorely disappointed, and to discover that he had
bestowed his benefits on men unworthy of his confidence. Döllinger,
without mentioning the king's mistakes, has done full justice to his
merits. Döllinger himself holds a princely rank in the European
republic of letters. With skilful hand he is rearing the immense
edifice of a universal Church history. The corner-stone is already
laid and the foundation completed. May God give life and vigor to the
architect, that he may finish his vast undertaking. Since his famous
lectures at the Odeon at Munich, delivered before a mixed audience in
April, 1861, Döllinger has fixed the attention of men holding the most
contrary opinions both in and out of the Church. Of late, many have
been disappointed in Döllinger, though without any reason; they have
given a false meaning to his words--misinterpreted his intentions.
True, he speaks with a boldness to which all cannot immediately
accustom themselves, for he is a thorough enemy of all mental
reservation in theology. He stands on an eminence, surveying not only
our own times but the whole extent of sacred and profane history, and
combines a correct estimate of the necessities of the age with a
fervent love of Christ and his Church.

Hergenröther, our revered professor, is in many respects the
scientific complement of Döllinger. If Döllinger at times goes too
far, Hergenröther knows how to explain, to correct, and to limit his
expressions; this he has done several times of late. Hergenröther is a
man of great learning, acquired by continued mental activity; but he
is likewise well acquainted with the ideas of the present age. His
speech at the Würzburg convention was a masterpiece, full of clear and
well-defined ideas.

His most active colleague in the Würzburg committee was Professor
Hettinger. He is perhaps the most eminent of living controversialists.
He teaches apologetics, which forms the transition from philosophy to
theology. Hettinger takes a large and philosophical, but at the same
time truly Christian and Catholic, view of the world. Every grand and
beautiful idea, both ancient and modern, he has made his own; he has
analyzed every philosophical system, separating truth from falsehood,
and has gathered every sound principle scattered over the wide range
of philosophical literature. His controversial works deserve to be
ranked among the classics of the nineteenth century. His discourses
are listened to with pleasure, whether he speaks from the pulpit, the
professor's desk, or the tribune. At Frankfort and Würzburg he spoke
in a masterly style.

Denzinger presided at the Würzburg conference which sent an address to
the Holy Father. He is a deep theologian, well versed in all
philosophical systems. His mind is admirably trained, his character
settled and determined, and in learning, notwithstanding the frailty
of his body, he has attained an eminence to which few can aspire.
Self-possessed in debate, sure and cautious in his remarks, a deep
thinker, he exhorted all to forbearance, and gave universal
satisfaction.

{344}

The Würzburg professors do honor to every assembly of scholars and to
every Catholic convention.

Abbot Haneberg, of Munich, perhaps the most venerable of our German
monks, bishop elect of Treves, a linguist who speaks fifteen
languages, a first-rate teacher, who will ever be remembered by his
many disciples as one of the best pulpit orators in Germany, was a
zealous advocate of the Munich congress of literati. The circular was
signed by Haneberg, Döllinger, and Prof. Alzog, of Freiburg. Alzog's
manual of ecclesiastical history is the text-book, not only in
Hildesheim and Freiburg, but in almost every seminary in Europe. The
work resembles one of the beautiful mosaics so much admired in St.
Peter's at Rome, and has been of great use. Alzog was present at the
Frankfort conventions.

Prof. Reusch, of Bonn, is one of our best commentators. He has
rendered the Catholics of Germany a great service in translating the
works of the English cardinal, for Wiseman's writings are read by the
whole Church. About a hundred years ago all Germany perused the
productions of the English free-thinking deists, Shaftesbury, Locke,
Morgan, Woolston, and Toland; at present all read the works of
Wiseman, Faber, Newman, Marshall, Dalgairn, and Manning. Toward the
close of the last century, Voltaire, Rousseau, d'Alembert, Diderot,
and the other infamous encyclopaedists furnished the educated portion
of Germany with intellectual food; now we eagerly study the writings
of Dupanloup, Montalembert, L. Veuillot, Ségur, F. Gratry, and
Nicolas. True, Renan too and "Le Maudit" have their admirers, but the
admirable replies of Dupanloup, Felix, Freppel, Lasserre, Veuillot,
Ségur, Pressensé, Parisis, Scherer, Coquerel, Lamy, and Nicolas, have
likewise found an extensive circle of readers. Catholic controversy
has never flourished more than at present, when hundreds of able
writers plead the cause of Christ and of his vicar on earth.

Professor Vosen, of Cologne, is another eminent controversialist; he
is a skilful debater, and possesses a thorough knowledge of
parliamentary rules and of the social condition of Germany. His
utterance is rapid, but he uses no superfluous verbiage, and every
sentence is clear and well brought out.

Prof. Reinkens, of Breslau, and Floss, of Bonn, were members of the
executive committee at the Munich convention of scholars. Not long ago
he dedicated to us his biography of "Hilary of Poitiers," a work that
may be classed with Möhler's "Athanasius."

Prof. Reischl, of Regensburg, repeatedly a member of different
committees at the general conventions, and an excellent teacher, whose
memory will ever be cherished by his students, is on the point of
finishing, in the course of the present year, his laborious
translation of the Holy Scriptures. For twelve years he has labored
unceasingly, and the work is the golden fruit of his labors, and will
outlive many generations. We may justly place Reischl's translation of
the Bible among our Catholic classics, such as Möhler's "Symbolism,"
Döllinger's "Paganism and Judaism," Hefele's "History of the
Councils," Phillips' "Canon Law," Hettinger's "Apologetics,"
Amberger's "Pastoral Theology," Dieringer's "Book of Epistles,"
Lasaulx's "Philosophy of the Fine Arts," Stöckl's "Philosophy of the
Middle Ages," Kleutgen's "Theology of the Past," "The Legends of Alban
Stolz," etc. Most of these have appeared since 1848, or rather within
the last twelve years, and are the precursors of a great Catholic
literary period, for which every preparation seems to be already made.
That our writers are improving in beauty of style no observer can fail
to notice; as a proof, I need only mention the names of Haffner,
Molitor, Redwitz, and Hahn-Hahn. I cannot pass unnoticed {345}
Stolberg's "History of the Church," Danberger's "History of the Middle
Ages," Gfrörer's great work on Gregory VII. and his times, and the
works of Frederick von Hurter. "Sepp's Jerusalem," also, is a work of
undoubted merit. Professor Sepp delivered some brilliant speeches at
the first Catholic general conventions. His last book is a telling
refutation of Renan and other modern infidels who deny the divinity of
Christ, and deserves to be ranked with the writings of Heinrich,
Haneberg, Deutinger, S. Brunner, Wriesinger, Michelis, Daumer, and
Hahn-Hahn on the same subject.

Michelis, of Braunsberg, shows some of Tertullian's violence; nay,
sometimes he becomes personal in debate, owing to his passionate
temper and his somewhat peevish character. These qualities are coupled
with an ardent love of his religion and his country, and manly honor
and straightforwardness. His speech at Frankfort, in 1862, was
well-timed and called forth immense enthusiasm. Michelis bears a close
resemblance to Prof. Remirding, of Fulda, who has lately acquired a
great reputation as a dogmatic theologian. Remirding has for a long
time been a teacher in England, and is thoroughly acquainted with
English affairs. To him we may apply the adage: "Still waters run
deep." He is silent, uncommunicative, and fond of thought. His bright
eyes beam with intelligence, gentleness, and benevolence. Prof.
Janssen held his maiden speech at the convention of Frankfort, in
1863; it was very successful. Janssen is a disciple of Böhmer, and he,
as well as Ficker, of Innsbruck, and Arnold, of Marburg, is a worthy
successor of that great historian. He is well fitted to write a
satisfactory history of Germany, for Giesebrecht's "History of the
German Emperors" fails to do justice to the Church during the middle
ages. There is no longer any lack of Catholic historians in Germany,
and the labors of Protestant writers have rendered the task easy for
them. Among our Catholic historians I shall mention Onno Klopp, of
Hanover; Hoefler, of Prague; Bader, Huber, Hergenröther, of Würzburg;
Marx, of Treves; Dudik, Gindely, Kampfschulte, of Bonn; Niehus, Rump,
and Hülskamp, of Münster; C. Will, of Nuremberg; Lämmer, of Breslau,
who has lately been appointed professor of theology; Remkens, of
Breslau; Alexander Kaufmann, of Werthheim; Cornelius, Friedrich, and
Pichlcr, of Munich; Roth von Schreckenstein, Watterich, Dominicus,
Ossenbeck, Ennen, Remling, Junckmann, Kiesel, Bumüller, Weiss, Kerker,
and Alberdingk-Thijm.

These gentlemen should try to meet very often, for by seeing ourselves
reflected in others we learn to know ourselves. Böhmer, Pertz, Chmel,
and Theiner have laid the foundations of historical research; on their
disciples devolves the task of continuing the building, and of
completing it according to the intentions of their masters.

My subject is carrying me away, and I am passing the limits I had
marked for myself. How many other names connected with the Munich
reunion of scholars, or the last Catholic congress, should I notice in
order to do justice to all! Professors Reithmayer, Reitter, and
Stadlbauer, of Munich; Mayer, of Würzburg; the learned Benedictines,
Rupert Mettermüller, of Metten, Gallus Morel, of Einsiedeln, Boniface
Gams, of Munich; Professors Schegg, of Freising, Hähnlein, of
Würzburg; Zobl, of Brixen, Uhrig and Schmid, of Dillingen, Engermann,
of Regensburg, Scheeben, of Cologne, Oischinger and Strodl, of Munich,
Hagemann, of Hildesheim, Pfahler, of Eichstadt, Kraus, of Regensburg,
Brandner and Schoepf, of Salzburg, Nirschl and Greil, of Passau; among
our rising scholars, Messrs. Constantine von Schaetzler, of Freiburg,
Langen, of Bonn, Wongerath, Silbernagel, Friedrich, Pichler, and
Wirthmüller, of Munich, Hitz, Kaiser, Kagerer, J. {346} M. Schneider,
J. Danziger, Bach, H. Hayd, Pfeifer, Kaufmann, of Munich, and Thinnel,
of Neisse; among the clergy, Dr. Westermayer, a celebrated preacher;
Schmid, of Amberg, Dr. Gmelch, of Lichtenstein, Dr. Clos, of
Feldaffing, Dr. Zinler, of Gablingen, Wick, of Breslau, Dr. Zailler;
and finally, Canons Rampf and Herb, of Munich, W. Mayer, of
Regensburg, Düx, of Würzburg, Freund, of Passau, Werner, of St.
Pölten, Provost Ernst, of Eichstädt, Canon Eberhard, of Regensburg,
Lierheimer, of Munich, and a host of others.

Truly Providence has blessed Germany with many great intellects, and a
glorious period seems to have begun for Catholic literature. Our
leading men should be animated with a fervent love of their faith, and
true patriotism; thus they will be enabled to take a truly Christian
view of the world.

I cannot refrain from saying a few words on the representatives of the
German press.

Dr. Ernest Zander, of Munich, is the spokesman of the German
journalists at the general conventions.

Zander has now been connected for twenty-seven years with the press,
but he is still quite hearty and ready to do battle, and the
subscribers of "Der Volksbote" read his spicy articles with
undiminished pleasure.

Although a poor speaker, his appearance is always greeted with
applause, and at the close of his remarks there is no end of cheering.

He calls things by their proper names, spares nobody, and has an
inexhaustible fund of wit and humor.

His numerous decorations, his bushy eyebrows, his twinkling eyes, and