Volume 27 — THE CATHOLIC WORLD. VOL. XXVII., No. 161.—AUGUST, 1878.

DR. EWER ON THE QUESTION, WHAT IS TRUTH?^[125]

Ten years ago Dr. Ewer produced an argument proving the failure of Protestantism by some solid reasons, which he avers have been met “not by argument, but by a gale of holy malediction and impotent scorn,” on the part of those who were included in his indictment. Dr. Ewer being an accredited minister of a society whose official designation in its own ecclesiastical law and before the civil law of the land is “the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States,” it was a very natural inquiry whether he had not indicted his own church and himself as participants in this general failure or religious bankruptcy, and was not morally bound to abandon an institution denounced by himself as not only insolvent but fraudulent. The late illustrious Dr. Brownson did the reverend gentleman the great honor of reviewing the argument which he had put forth, in the pages of this magazine. Not with malediction and scorn, but with sober logic, he pointed out his inconsistent and self-contradictory position, as a Protestant minister denouncing Protestantism, and proved that the only possible logical alternative of Protestantism, for one who admits the divine origin of the Christian religion, is the genuine and pure Catholicism of the holy, Catholic, apostolic Roman Church. To the many failures of Protestantism, not only to construct any real form of Christian religion, but also to destroy the actual and historical Christianity which it has renounced, Dr. Ewer added another in his own person by failing to answer the arguments of Dr. Brownson. Although strongly urged to undertake the task, he absolutely declined to do so; and in presenting himself anew, after a lapse of ten years, with the proffer of something which he is pleased to call “Catholic Truth” as a substitute for Protestant error, he does so under the great disadvantage of having failed to vindicate himself from the charge of teaching what is only one of the Protean forms of the very error which he so solemnly denounces as subversive of all faith or even natural religion.

578The present lecture, besides containing a renewal of the indictment of Protestantism, and a restatement of the assertion that the truth opposite to its errors is embodied in the infallible teaching of a Catholic Church existing in his own imagination, has also what purports to be a palmary refutation of the dogma of Catholic faith defined by the Council of the Vatican respecting the infallibility of the Roman Pontiff. Perhaps the lecturer considers that this is a sufficient though late rejoinder to the arguments of Dr. Brownson in The Catholic World. Not so. Dr. Ewer’s Catholic Church has been proved to be an ens rationis, an abstraction, and its imaginary infallibility to be mere moonshine of the fancy. The logical idea of organic unity, of corporate, Catholic, unerring teaching and legislating and grace-giving hierarchical authority, representing Christ on earth from his ascension to his second coming, has been demonstrated to have no counterpart and expression in the order of real and actual existence, except in the one church over which Peter presides in his successors. If it is proved that the successor of Peter, with the concurrence of the bishops, clergy, and faithful who obey his supreme authority, has committed an act of self-stultification, this lamentable catastrophe affords no more ground to Dr. Ewer and his little party to claim a gain of cause for their petite église than it does to the Rev. John Jasper to maintain the triumph of his ancient and primitive doctrine that “the sun do move.” Let us suppose that the utter failure of Protestantism is demonstrated. Let us suppose, also, that the Church of Rome has erred. Does it follow by any logical reduction that the party of Dr. Ewer, however respectable in regard to learning and intellectual ability, morality and religious zeal, is not also in error? By no means. The only conclusion which does logically follow is that two-thirds of those who are called Christians are very seriously in error regarding the true and real nature of the Christian religion which they profess. It is possible that the remainder may also have erred. The Greek Church may have erred, the Church of England may have erred, the Oriental sects may have erred. Some of them must have erred, for they disagree among themselves in regard to two important matters, one as to what pertains to the essence and integrity of Catholic faith, the other as to what pertains to the essence and integrity of Catholic order. There is a general disagreement and disunion, without any external criterion or legitimate tribunal of judgment by which their differences can be adjudicated and terminated. The appeal which some of our Anglican friends are wont to make to an œcumenical council of Christendom is about as practical a method of constituting such a tribunal as an appeal would be to Moses, to the twelve apostles, to the Council of Nice, or to a special commission of archangels. Failing all possible recourse to an actually existing and infallible tribunal, we are thrown back upon the necessity of judging for ourselves between the various systems and forms of doctrine professedly Christian, on their intrinsic merits, and the rational evidence which each of them can adduce in its own behalf. Whoever thinks that we are really in this predicament will, if he holds firmly to Christianity and 579at the same time follows the dictates of reason, conclude that the various forms of Christianity are only differentiations of the same generic ratio, and will seek for some rationalistic or broad-church basis of reconciliation and union among Christians. If he does not hold by some kind of strong, and dominant conviction to the Christian religion, he will adopt the opinion of Mr. Froude and many other men of the nineteenth century, that it is a religion destined to become obsolete and be replaced by a new religion or by nihilism. So far from liberating those who are “breast-deep in torrents of scepticism,” Dr. Ewer plunges them with a stone to their feet to the bottom of the sea of scepticism. He loudly proclaims that there is no remedy for doubt, misery, and spiritual ruin except in the coming and the remaining upon earth, in visible, audible form and presence, of God made man, by his natural and mystical body, through whose organs of human speech the truths of salvation are infallibly declared to those men who are willing to hear. Yet he denies all the evidence there is that any such mystical body of Christ, possessing and exercising the requisite power of infallible speech, has continuously existed, and does now exist, on the earth, giving to men an unerring external criterion of judgment whereby they may discern Catholic truth from Protestant errors. Having first swept away rational theology and all certitude concerning revealed truth which can be gained from the private study of the Scriptures, he annihilates the living, teaching authority of the perennial church, and leaves nothing whatever which can furnish a refuge from the universal sea of doubt, not even a Noe’s ark. The land which he points out is a mirage, the ark of safety is a phantom-ship. Man is justified, according to the gospel of Dr. Ewer, not by faith alone, but by theory alone; not by the works of the law, but by the plays of the imagination. With very great pomp of language he exclaims: “In this God embodied in the one church, in this God continuously visible and audible, therefore, behold, gentlemen, the fountain of infallibility which you seek; for God himself cannot err nor falsify.” This is an encouraging and promising invitation. Surely, if we can find this divine oracle, this sacred tabernacle over which a pillar of fire reposes all through the hours of this present darkness as a token of the abiding of the Spirit of Truth within its sacred enclosure, we may be satisfied, and if this bright cloud precedes we may march with confidence through the desert toward the promised land.

Let us be sure that the Son of God has come into the world, that he has founded a church with sovereign and unerring authority to teach his truth and his law, that we know with certainty which is this church, and it is obvious that all reasonable cause for doubting in regard to things necessary to our interior peace of mind and our eternal salvation is removed. Dr. Ewer’s theory is right and consistent so far. But he fails to verify his own conditions, and does not designate any real and concrete body which fulfils the exigencies of his theory. He asserts that whoever holds his theory is a Catholic, and that there are three, and only three, churches which are parts of the one body that, according to the theory which he calls Catholic, must necessarily be identified and recognized as the mystical body of 580Christ. He exhorts his hearers to listen, “as the one Holy Catholic Church in all its parts, His own body, raises its voice,” which he says is “the voice of God on earth, chanting aloud that all the people in all time may hear, and be without excuse, the unaltering, irreformable truth.” What is the sum and substance of this truth? It is, he informs us, “the solemn, Catholic Creed of Nice, Constantinople, and Athanasius.” This creed, moreover, he asserts, has been chanted “in unison round and round the world in unbroken strain, following the tireless sun, through the centuries and the millenniums,” by his imaginary catholic church, a body existing in separate parts, without any head or unity of organization. Dr. Brownson has demonstrated that such a body cannot exist either in the realm of nature or in that of grace, and we need not repeat his arguments. We simply affirm, at present, that this unison of voices without discord or interruption, chanting continuously from the apostolic age the three creeds above mentioned, is a myth, and no historical fact. Dr. Ewer appears to rely on it as the external criterion of Catholic truth, and if it vanishes, as it must under the historical test, he is left to the mercy of the torrents of scepticism, along with the other Protestants. The creeds, in their external form, are a growth and a development from the germ which first existed under a simpler form. The slightest acquaintance with early church history suffices to show how long and violent a warfare was necessary in order to establish the Nicene Creed with its test-word of orthodoxy, “consubstantial with the Father,” as the permanent, universal, and unchangeable formula of faith, even among those who truly held and confessed the Catholic faith itself in regard to the true and proper divinity of the Son. The additions made by the First Council of Constantinople were not universally adopted, or the council itself completely ratified and recognized as œcumenical, until at least seventy years after its celebration.

If the doctrine contained in the creeds is regarded in itself, prescinding from its verbal expression, the case is much worse for Dr. Ewer’s theory. The Arian heretics were numerous and powerful, and they were able to persecute the Catholics and lay waste the church in a fearful manner. They were nevertheless Catholics, according to Dr. Ewer’s definition. They professed to have the genuine, apostolical, and primitive faith, and accused the Catholics of having altered and corrupted it. They recognized the visible church, the apostolic succession, the hierarchical order, the sacrifice and sacraments instituted by Christ, and continued the outward show and appearance of conformity to established Catholic usage, and even to the language of the Fathers respecting the mysteries of faith. They were intruded into the possession of the titles, churches, and other temporalities of many of the most important episcopal sees, and sustained in their usurpation by the civil power.

After the extermination of the Arian heresy came the Nestorians. They also professed to be orthodox and Catholic, anathematized the Arians and all the previous heretics, confessed the Nicene Creed, and, when they were condemned and cut off from the church, so far from ceasing to exist, they increased 581and flourished in a remarkable way for centuries, and still remain as a separate organization with their bishops, who have succeeded in an unbroken line from those of the fifth century.

The Eutychians or Monophysites received the decrees of the councils of Nice and Ephesus, anathematized the Nestorians, and denounced the Catholics as Nestorian heretics. After the Council of Chalcedon, which condemned them, they persisted in maintaining their position as being the genuine Catholics, and formed a new sect, which still subsists in Egypt and the East. A century after the Council of Chalcedon, out of six millions of Christians in the patriarchate of Alexandria, there were only three hundred thousand Catholics, and in Asia Minor the divisions and dissensions caused by the Monophysite and Nestorian heresies were so great that the peace and stability of the Eastern empire were seriously compromised. This was the occasion of an effort at reconciliation made by the Emperor Heraclius, in concert with Sergius of Constantinople and Cyrus of Alexandria, which brought in a new heresy, the Monothelite, with new disorders, new persecutions, and another violent struggle for life on the part of the Catholic faith, that resulted after fifty years in a sixth œcumenical council, where the Monothelite heresy was condemned. What reason has Dr. Ewer for excluding these heretical Eastern sects from his comprehensive Catholic Church? They have always received the creeds of Nice and Constantinople. They hold fewer heresies than those which are admitted by the Church of England, and, apart from their special heretical tenets, are in close conformity of doctrine and order with the Greek Church. They always protested that they held the primitive, Catholic faith, and that they were unjustly condemned because they resisted the effort to impose new dogmas and additions to the creed as terms of Catholic communion. The history of the whole period of the first six councils completely falsifies and nullifies Dr. Ewer’s theory, and shows his fanciful chant in unison to be as mythical a song as was ever sung in the brain of a woman with a bee in her bonnet. It has a very nice sound to appeal to the first six councils. Even the Presbyterian General Assembly could vindicate their orthodoxy before Pius IX. by loudly proclaiming their assent to all the dogmatic definitions of the first six councils. But what do the majority of men know about these councils? The same objections which Anglicans make against the seventh, and Greeks and Anglicans alike make against the councils of Lyons, Florence, Trent, and the Vatican, are of equal force against those of Nice, Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon. The number of bishops present in each of them varied from one hundred and fifty to six hundred and thirty, out of a whole number of prelates certainly much larger even in the beginning of the fourth century, and estimated by the emperors themselves, who must have had better means of information than any others at the time, as having increased in the fifth century to a total of five or six thousand. The church went on very well for three centuries without any œcumenical councils. When the necessity arose, each council was sufficient for the present emergency, but not sufficient for the new ones which arose 582and demanded new councils and new decisions, of equal authority with the preceding. Each one has met the violent opposition of the rebellious, the schismatical, and the heretical appellants from the present, actual authority of the church to some ideal tribunal of their own imagination, in the past or in the future, which they can call what they choose, the Catholic Church or the Word of God. Their word of God is their own private interpretation of Scripture, or of Scripture and tradition together; their Catholic Church is themselves and their particular party, pretending to speak in the name of the church and to be her interpreters. The whole is worth as much as the œcumenical council forged by Photius, acts, decrees, signatures, and all, and promulgated at large among the Eastern bishops, in support of his usurpation of the see of Constantinople. The council of Photius was Photius himself, and the Catholic Church of Dr. Ewer is Dr. Ewer and the other members of his party. There is no really existing and speaking society which says: “I am the church, composed of three parts, Roman, Greek, and Anglican.” This is the language of certain individuals put into the mouth of an imaginary society. The principle of individualism, which is the first principle of schism and heresy, is just as really at the bottom of Dr. Ewer’s theory as it is at the bottom of Chillingworth’s. It breeds the same discord and disunion, and leaves men exposed to the same inroad of scepticism. Controversies concerning what the church is, what her authority and infallibility are, which are the true councils, which is the true Catholic communion, who are the lawful pastors to whom obedience is due, confuse and disturb the mind and conscience as much as controversies concerning the true sense of Scripture, the true doctrine of the Person of Christ, or the conditions of salvation in general. There must have been an external criterion, a rule of determination, by which the orthodox faith and Catholic communion could be discerned from Arian, Nestorian, Monophysite, and Donatist counterfeits. That same rule must exist now; it must be an infallible test of every kind of spurious Christianity and spurious Catholicity. It is necessary that this rule, if it be really sufficient, should determine not only between Caiphas or Mohammed and Christ, between apocryphal and genuine Scriptures, between Arius and Athanasius, Macedonius and Basil, Nestorius and Cyril, Dioscorus and Leo, Pyrrhus and Maximus, but also between Calvin and Bellarmine, Elizabeth and Pius V., Nicholas and Pius IX., Döllinger and Cardinal Manning, Dr. Ewer and Dr. Brownson. It must determine not only between church and no-church, Bible alone and Bible with apostolic tradition, priest and preacher, but between bishop and bishop, the usurpation and the just right of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, the pretence and the reality of infallible authority, the minimum and the maximum of doctrine which must be accepted as pertaining to Catholic faith. These are not non-essential matters or questions of debate between theological schools. They relate to obligations of conscience in which the salvation of the soul is involved, and are eminently practical. The Spanish prince Hermenegild had such a practical rule, and obeyed it by sacrificing his life rather than to receive communion 583from an Arian bishop. Marie Antoinette had the same, and died without the Viaticum rather than to receive it from a constitutional priest. An Anglican living in St. Petersburg, and in doubt whether he was bound to remain in his own sect, to join the Russian national church, or to become a Catholic, or was at liberty to choose between the three, would need the same rule. Who could decide the doubt for him? His own clergy? The Russian clergy? Catholic priests? The judgment of any of these, as private individuals, is not infallible. They can only help him to find some rule under which they are personally acting, and which proceeds from an authority superior to themselves. According to Dr. Ewer, neither of these authorities is supreme or infallible in itself; it is only in so far as they agree in transmitting the judgments of an authority in abeyance, that they can furnish an infallible rule. This is no rule which meets his case. They agree only in telling him that he must obey the rule recognized by the first six councils. Where is that voice of God which is audible to all men who will hear? Where is the embodied Christ who will take him by the hand? What has become of the chant in unison of the one, Catholic Church, musically uttering unalterable truth? Suppose that the Christians of the first seven centuries had been left without any better rule than this, what perplexity and unutterable confusion would have been the result—quite as bad if not worse than that which exists among our modern Protestant sects.

An extrinsic and infallible rule of faith must be one that in a self-evident manner manifests itself as really extrinsic to those who present it, and superior to their individual judgment, and it must be universal. The teacher and the judge must speak in the name of a really existing society which is actually one and universal, and in a manifest identity with itself in the past, by unbroken continuity of life and self-consciousness from the time of its origin in the divine institution of Christ. The instructor of the one who seeks the truth must teach him what the church thinks and commands, and give him a criterion of certainty that she does think and command what he ascribes to her, so that if he falsifies her teaching he will disclose and betray his own deception in the very act of deceiving, like one who hands over a package of money which had been entrusted to him with a letter containing a description of its contents. Such a rule of faith, with its criterion of certainty and of self-verification, without any doubt the Catholics of the first seven centuries possessed. Their living and immediate rule was a church really one and obviously one with itself in its present and in its past. It declared itself to have always held and meant just what it was now saying. The faithful believed and obeyed it, because its continuity and identity from St. Peter and the apostles were obvious by manifest signs and tokens which could not deceive them. Heretics and schismatics could not successfully mimic the voice of the true church. Their lack of continuity, i.e., apostolicity, of unity, of Catholicity, and of sanctity as well, was obvious. Their counterfeits were always put forth as the genuine coin of ancient stamp, but as coin which had been hidden or defaced until they had discovered it, 584or burnished it anew. The lawful issues of new coin from the old mint they denounced as counterfeit or adulterated. Their very pretence of returning to a kind of old Catholic doctrine more ancient and more Catholic than that of the present church, was a sure, detective test of their spuriousness. Continuity could not be in them, or universality, or unity; because their only claim to a hearing, and their only justification of their rebellion, implied that the church had not preserved these notes unimpaired. They were self-contradictory, and affirmed and denied the Catholic Church in the same breath. So likewise their successors. The so-called Greek Church is a contradiction to itself, in respect to its schismatical position, and a concrete absurdity. The Anglican sect is not on a par with the schismatical and heretical churches of the East in any way, and deserves no consideration in the treatment of the question of the actual extension of the Catholic Church. The theoretical church called Anglo-Catholic is an ens rationis. We give it only a hypothetical position in our discussion, as a possible society which might be organized in accordance with Dr. Ewer’s theory, if there were one real bishop to undertake the experiment. This hypothetical church is an hypothetical absurdity, as the Greek Church is a real one. The absurdity consists in the contradiction between the concrete and practical actuality of separate existence as a partial and incomplete church, and the confession of faith in one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic church, having infallible authority in faith and morals. If the one church continues to exist as a complete, integral whole, there is no place for another partial and incomplete church, and any society which exists under that name is condemned by itself as an anomaly and a crime. If it does not exist, the church has failed. There being no whole, there can be no parts. There is no church at all of divine institution, no mystical body of Christ on earth. There are only human organizations, each of which is changeable and fallible. The profession of belief in the one, holy, Catholic, and apostolic church is, therefore, a profession of belief in a falsehood. Mentita est iniquitas sibi.

In that part of his theory which is Catholic Dr. Ewer affirms as a necessary consequence from the nature of God as a God of love, together with the method which he has chosen for manifesting his love through the Incarnation, that the Catholic Church must be really existing: “that God has still remained, and will to the end of time remain, in a one, undying, ever-fresh, amazing, organic, visible, audible, tangible, and recognizable body of human matter, known as the mystical body of God on earth.” Once more he says: “As Jesus Christ was the only being who dared to call himself God, so Catholicity is the only Christian body that dares to call itself infallible; that dares to begin its discourses, to give its truth, to pronounce its judgments, and to pardon sin, ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.’” This is given as a token of the true church, the real possessor of infallible authority.

From this it follows that the church whose supreme ruler is the Roman Pontiff is the one, Catholic Church, complete and integral in itself, and in no sense a compart with the Greek and Anglican 585churches as other parts making up with it, as a composite totality, the Catholic Church. The members of this church are on the same footing with the Catholics of the earlier ages, and have the same rule. They recognize one church, distinct and separate from all others, as perfect and infallible, with its continuous series of œcumenical councils. This church, and this church alone, dares to assume the exclusive name and prerogatives of Catholicity, to proclaim itself infallible, and to command obedience to its decrees as the necessary condition of salvation. The Sovereign Pontiff of Rome, and he alone, dares to call himself the Vicar of Christ and the Head of his entire mystical body, the church. But that most illogical and inconsistent of men, Dr. Ewer, confronted by Pius IX. and the Œcumenical Council of the Vatican, and feeling himself and his pseudo-Catholicism smitten by their anathemas, suddenly drops his Catholic disguise, and, showing himself in his true character as a Protestant and a sceptic, cries out: “Let us examine.” We have no objection to an examination. For a Catholic, to examine the dogmatic decrees of an œcumenical council or of the pope in respect to matters of faith, with an examination of doubt and hesitancy, is ipso facto a renunciation of his rule of faith and an act of apostasy. For one who is in inculpable ignorance or doubt concerning the criterion of truth and the proximate rule of faith, to examine with sincerity and honesty of purpose is a duty as well as a right. Dr. Ewer puts himself and his auditors into this position, as seekers, inquirers, who are invited to “go back and start all over again—without a Bible, without a church, without sacraments, without any religious notions—and see where we shall come out.” An interesting exploration, assuredly! Dr. Ewer, and those who follow his guidance, come out, by a tolerably short path, to a logical position, which is the next one to a final term of the process. Nothing remains to be determined, except the subject of the attribute of infallibility, in its specific and individual being as really existing, and representing the sovereign authority of Christ on earth. Even this is determined in respect to the past existence of the body which is recognized as the one, true church, and was assembled in the first six councils. The one point to be examined is whether the body assembled in the Council of the Vatican is identical with the one, true church assembled at Nice, Chalcedon, and Constantinople, in œcumenical council. If it is, the examination is terminated; the infallible church is found really existing in the present, with the same specific and individuating notes by which it is identified as existing in the past. If not, the examination is equally terminated, for there is no other body even ostensibly similar to this one which remains to be examined. Consequently, Dr. Ewer and his followers have come out into a cul de sac, or no thoroughfare.

Dr. Ewer, having examined the claim of the Vatican Council to be the Ecclesia Docens, defining the Catholic faith with infallible authority equal to that of the Council of Nice, does not merely dispute or deny it, but scouts and ridicules it with most contemptuous language, unsurpassed by any ever used by Arians or Eutychians against previous councils and definitions. Its 586great dogmatic decree defining the infallibility of the Roman Pontiff he vituperates as “this flagrant instance of the fallacy known as ‘begging the very question at issue’; an instance which is perhaps the sublimest in its presumption, and the most absurd in its simplicity, that the world ever stood amazed at.” This is a strong assertion and powerful rhetoric! But what we want is evidence and logic. Has Dr. Ewer furnished any? There is some pretence of an argument, and, such as it is, we will endeavor to sift its value. The argument is briefly this. The dogmatic decree is the product of two factors, the collective judgment of the bishops apart from that of the pope, and the judgment of the pope himself. The judgment of the bishops being confessedly not final and infallible in itself, it is the judgment of the pope which must make the decree defining his infallibility final and infallible. Therefore, he defines his own infallibility by the same infallibility. He declares himself to be infallible because he is; the reason why we are bound to believe is identical with the very object of belief, idem per idem.

We will first point out the consequences to Dr. Ewer’s own theory from the argument he has used against the infallibility of the pope, and show its thoroughly sceptical tendency, and afterwards refute it in a more direct manner. The infallibility of the church or of œcumenical councils has never been defined by any of the councils acknowledged by Dr. Ewer. It has always been taken for granted. Suppose that the Council of Nice had explicitly declared this doctrine as a dogma of Catholic faith. It would have affirmed the infallibility of a council as its own infallible judgment, and the infallibility of this judgment itself would rest on the infallibility of the church in council, the very thing defined, as much as the infallibility of the judgment of Pius IX. rested on his own declaration that he was infallible. It would be the same in the case of the imaginary future council gathered from the three parts of Dr. Ewer’s catholic church. The taking of infallibility for granted was just as much a begging of the question, on the part of the Ecclesia Docens, in her ordinary universal teaching and her solemn definitions, as if she had expressly defined it. According to the same logic, the affirmation of their infallibility and inspiration by the twelve apostles would have been a begging of the question. It would have been a demand for belief in their inspiration, because they declared that they were inspired. Even so with our Blessed Lord. He declared that he was the Son of God, and required absolute faith in his words because he was the Son of God, and the very reason for believing his declaration rested on his actually being the Son of God. It is exactly the same with the intellect and reason of man. The demonstrations of reason rest on first principles which are taken for granted. Why do you take them for granted, we may ask of the intellect. Because they are evident to me. What is the proof that what is evident to you is truth? I am intellect, and am made to see truth? By what authority do you affirm that? By my own, because I am intellect and reason. But I want an authority, extrinsic to you, as a warrant that you do not err when you say you are intellect and reason, and that what you call self-evident is really 587so, and not a mere hallucination. There is none.

Let us go back to God himself. We believe God on his veracity, i.e., because he is truth in his essence, his knowledge, and his manifestation of the same to us. This veracity of God, which is the reason for believing whatever he makes known to us by revelation, is made known to us by God himself, and we depend on his truth for the certainty that it is truth, that he exists, and that he has manifested to us the truth. If, therefore, the declaration of the infallibility of the pope by the pope himself is a logical fallacy because the infallibility of the person and the act declaring it is implied and presupposed, there is a logical fallacy at the bottom of all faith and all science, of the first acts of reason and intellect, of the very idea of being and reality. This is Kantian and transcendental scepticism and nihilism pure and simple. Being and nothing are identical. We are swallowed by the abyss of the unknowable, and the only fate possible or desirable for us, phantoms of a nightmare, is to be swallowed by the lower abyss of dreamless unconsciousness.

There is a real affinity between the pseudo-Catholicism of Oxford and scepticism. The former breeds the latter, and has actually been succeeded by it in the English universities and in many individual minds. Its sophistical methods pervert the reasoning faculties and undermine the basis of certitude. There is, moreover, a reaction caused by the refusal to draw from premises which can only find their just conclusions, their logical consequences, in genuine and complete Catholicity, which drives men back upon a rejection of all Christianity and all rational theology. As for the great mass of the present doubting generation, they are disgusted and repelled, if they are not rather moved to laughter and contempt, by the exhibition of such an illusory and fantastic claim of authority, before which they are exhorted to bow down. If Protestantism is a failure, and the authority of the Roman Pontiff and the great councils which have been celebrated under his presidency is futile, and the doctrine of the Greek Church is only Catholic in so far as the Church of England agrees with it, and this final measure of truth is only ascertained by taking the opinion of one small party of individuals, most men will conclude that Catholic authority is the most baseless of pretensions, and that Christianity itself is a failure. It is very unwise for any man to attempt to play the prophet, and assume to speak to men with a solemn air in the name of God, in these days, unless he has very authentic credentials. The pope can speak to the world as the Vicar of Christ, and receive some respectful attention. Any Catholic priest preaching Catholic doctrine has the pope, and the whole hierarchy, and many past centuries behind him, to overshadow him with their majesty. But the world cares nothing for what is said officially by the Patriarch of Constantinople or the Archbishop of Canterbury, much less for Dr. Ewer, and others like him who attempt to play the priest and imitate the Doctors of the church. In the great controversies of the age they count as a cipher. Whatever else the men of the coming age may do, they will not become Greco-Russian or Ritualistic. The issue is between Rome and anti-Christianity. Our 588only reason for noticing such a theory as that of Dr. Ewer is that numbers of individual members of his communion who are personally worthy of all respect are hindered by its speciousness from perceiving clearly the truth over which it casts a haze, and that others are likely to be prejudiced against the truth which it misrepresents and denies. It is a pseudo-Catholicism. Those who imbibe its Catholic ingredient are hindered from embracing the genuine Catholicity, toward which they have a tendency. Those who assimilate its uncatholic and sceptical element are hardened in their unbelief. We have said enough to show that it is no substitute for pure Catholicity and no antidote against scepticism. We drop this theory now out of sight, and during the remainder of this article we shall present to the candid inquirer for truth whose mind may have become confused by following the exposition of sophistry, a brief counter exposition of the integral Catholic truth in respect to that extrinsic, infallible criterion and rule by which it is ascertained with certitude, and all Protestant errors, or errors in faith or morals of any kind, are rejected.

In the first place, we repudiate utterly that extravagant fideism, if we may call it so, which makes an extrinsic rule, an authority exterior to the individual intellect and reason, and a faith or belief on testimony or authority, whether human or divine, the ultimate and only source and basis and rule of certitude in knowledge of the higher truths. We can never begin with any such source and criterion, and of course never progress and finish. Discursion of the reason, and faith as well, must have an intrinsic starting-point, which for man is in both the senses and the reason. We want no other light, and can have none, by which to see light itself, or rather to see illuminated objects in and by light. The intellect is a spiritual light. All men who have the use of their senses in a normal and healthy condition, and likewise their reason, see and feel and hear and understand and reason and know, without doubting; and when they reflect, they are certain that they do perceive sensible and intelligible objects. Each one knows this for himself, independently of the rest of mankind, as well as by the agreement and common sense of all. The intellect and reason of each one, and the intellect of mankind in general, is that to which we appeal, as containing the first principles and the intrinsic criterion of truth. Whoever pretends to doubt these first principles, or asks for somewhat above them and exterior to them, throws himself out of the rational sphere, and with him it is useless to argue. By intuition and discursion, by self-evident principles and demonstration, a great amount of certain science, even in natural theology, is attainable. Belief on testimony is rationally based on the evidence of the veracity of the witnesses, and furnishes another great amount of knowledge. Besides what is thus made metaphysically, or physically, or morally certain, there is a much larger quantity of that which is probable, in philosophy, physics, history, and all kinds of higher science. In respect to those things which are made known by divine testimony, that is, by divine revelation, the fact of the testimony is accredited, and made rationally credible, by the motives of credibility attesting and authenticating the revelation. The veracity of God is known by 589the light of reason. That which is really contained in the revelation, however it is transmitted, whether by books or by tradition, can be known in a great variety of ways, like other facts and ideas of the purely natural and human order. It is by no means absolutely necessary to prove the infallible authority of the church before we can refute scepticism, false philosophy, infidelity, or heresy. Christianity and Catholic theology rest on a sound rational basis and can be proved to the reason of one who is competent to understand the arguments. Revelation itself is absolutely necessary only for the disclosure of truths which are above reason. And these very truths can be demonstrated, not indeed by their intrinsic connection with truths of natural theology, but by their extrinsic connection with the veracity of God, through a logical syllogism. Whatever God testifies is true; but God has testified the mysteries contained in the Holy Scripture; therefore these mysteries are true. It is only necessary to prove the minor, and the demonstration is complete. The greatest part of the distinctively Catholic doctrines can be proved historically, critically, and logically, without resorting to the divine authority of the church. In great measure its human authority suffices, together with extrinsic sources of proof. In this way many Protestants have conclusively proved a great quantity of the truth contained in the Christian revelation. Even infidels are able to perceive and to prove that the religion established by Christ is the Catholic religion, and that whoever believes in the divine mission of Christ, or even in the existence of God, is logically bound to believe in the supremacy of the pope and in all the doctrines defined by the Roman Church.

What, then, is the necessity of revelation? It is absolutely necessary for the disclosure of truths above reason, and morally necessary for the instruction of the great mass of men in all religious and moral truth, in a perfect, certain, and easy way, adapted to their spiritual needs. What is the necessity of an infallible authority in the church? It is necessary as the ordinary means of applying this instruction efficaciously and unerringly, in respect to all the dogmatic and moral truths and precepts, with absolute and universal certainty, to the minds of all men, in a simple, easy, and unmistakable manner, and of determining finally controversies and condemning heresies.

A specious and fallacious objection is made on the very threshold of the argument on infallibility to show that there is necessarily a begging of the question from the start, and that some prior infallibility must be assumed as a reason for affirming any infallible extrinsic authority whatsoever. This is the very sophism we have previously brought to view, and which is the very essence of universal scepticism. It is objected that we cannot really identify and appropriate an infallible rule without a previous infallible criterion, and that we cannot apply it without the same criterion. The mind of man is fallible in determining that there is an infallible authority, what is that authority, what it teaches. But if I am fallible in the very judgment upon which rests the infallibility of the criterion which I assume as a safeguard against my own liability to error, I can never get 590beyond a fallible conclusion. This is the very argument of sceptics and probabilists against physical and metaphysical certitude. The senses are fallible, reason is fallible. Men are sometimes deceived by trusting to their senses, to their reason, to the testimony of others. Therefore we ought to doubt everything, or at least to rest satisfied with probability and a kind of blind, instinctive assent. We must substitute practical reason for pure reason. This is all sophistry and false philosophy. Fallibility is not essential but accidental in sensitive and intellectual cognition. It is a deficiency of nature, not a natural incapacity for certitude. Some would say that the intellect and reason are infallible within a certain sphere, so that by reason the mind infallibly joins itself to the higher infallibility of the church, and infallibly receives the truth from its teaching. We think it more accurate to restrict infallibility to that criterion which is absolutely and universally exempt from all liability to the accidental defect of error. In respect to the senses and to reason, we say they are fallible per accidens and by a deficiency in their operation. Nevertheless, we can be certain, in many cases, that they do not and cannot fail to give us certitude through any such accidental failure and deficiency. We can test their accuracy, as in observing sensible phenomena, and in mathematical calculations. This is enough to overthrow scepticism and probabilism. There is such a thing as rational certitude, and this suffices for our purpose. By rational certitude human reason can obtain, without any fear of error, its infallible criterion. By the same it can receive and apply its infallible judgments without fear of error. We are not analyzing supernatural and divine faith, but the rational process which underlies, accompanies, and follows faith with more or less explicitness and completeness, and which is the preamble of faith for those who are not yet in possession of Catholic faith, but are sincere inquirers. No one is asked to grant any begging of the question of infallibility, or to accept any proof of idem per idem, or to give unqualified assent to a mere probability. The truth of Christianity, and the identity of Catholicity with it, are proved with conclusive certainty by the motives of credibility. The same proof which establishes the divinity of Jesus Christ establishes the divine authority of the Catholic Church. This authority is infallible because divine and supreme, and having the right to command the firm, undoubting assent of the intellect to its teaching, and the unconditional submission of the will to its precepts. The authority of the church once established, its testimony to its own character and prerogatives must be received as true. The divine mission of Jesus Christ was proved by his miracles, and his own affirmation of his divinity was thus made credible. The mission and authority of the apostles are authenticated by his commission, and the church founded by them is identified by the manifest notes of unity, sanctity, apostolicity, and catholicity. The hierarchical organization of the church, its principles of unity and government, the constitution of its tribunals, and the respective attributions of the ruling, teaching, and judging magistrates who preside over the whole or particular parts, must be determined by its own traditions, laws, usages, and declarations. In any 591matter of controversy respecting any of these things, the supreme authority must decide without appeal. Find the sovereign authority to which the whole church is subject by its organic law, and there can be no further question. In every perfect and unequal society there is a sovereignty which is considered as practically infallible, that is, as a tribunal of last resort, from which no appeal can be taken. In a society having divine authority to teach and judge in matters of faith and morals in the name of God, this practical infallibility must be a real infallibility in the strict sense of the term. From this principle springs the reason and obligation of the recognition of infallibility in œcumenical councils. They are supreme, because they contain all the authority which exists in the church. Although the entire episcopate numerically is not present in such a council, the authority which it possesses is equivalent to that of the whole episcopate. The accession of the suffrages of the bishops who are absent from the council supplies what is wanting in respect to numerical quantity in the representation of the whole body at the deliberations and decisions of the council. Their tacit assent, which in due time becomes the explicit and formal profession of complete concurrence, adds moral weight and invincible force to the authority of the conciliar decisions. This is augmented by the assent of the whole body of the clergy and laity. It is no matter how numerous dissidents and recusants may be among bishops, clergy, and people, or how long their protest and rebellion may continue. They separate themselves from the true body, and are legitimately excluded from it, and therefore their suffrages do not count. That unanimity which is a criterion of truth is not a unanimity of Catholics, heretics, and schismatics together, but of Catholics alone. There is requisite, therefore, some certain mark by which Catholics can be discerned. The Catholic episcopate, the Catholic priesthood, the Catholic people, Catholic councils, Catholic creeds and confessions, the Catholic communion, must be discriminated in some plain and obvious manner from all their counterfeits, however great the semblance of reality which these counterfeits bear on their surface. The test of separation from the true faith and the true church, and the authority which judges of the fact of separation, must be clear and indubitable. The œcumenical council must have its complete and legitimate authority, in which the authority of the whole church and the whole episcopate is concentrated and applied, independently of the assent or dissent of any number of individuals, even bishops or patriarchs, who are not actually concurring in its judgment. It must have power to command assent and to punish dissent, or its authority is nugatory. It is a plain, historical fact that the supremacy of the Apostolic See of St. Peter gave to the episcopate its unity, and to the episcopate assembled in general council its final authority, from the first age of the church, and from the beginning of its action through œcumenical councils. The councils were not complete without the pope, and it was his ratification which confirmed and made irreformable their judgments.

The Council of Nice and the Council of the Vatican are precisely alike in this respect. The 592bishops possess now, as they have always possessed, conjudicial authority in deciding matters of faith with the pope, whether in or out of council, as they are, in all other respects, jure divino co-regents with him of the universal church. But they do not share in his supremacy and sovereignty, even though they may be bishops of apostolic sees and have patriarchal jurisdiction. He is the supreme judge, as he is the supreme ruler. As such, his right to judge in matters of faith, without the aid of a general council, as well as to make laws and exercise all the plenitude of jurisdiction, has been acknowledged by all the œcumenical councils and by the whole church in every age. It is false to say that the dogmatic decree of the Council of the Vatican made any change in doctrine or law respecting the authority of the pope over the episcopate, whether assembled or dispersed, and over the universal church. The Council of Florence, to go no higher, defined the plenitude of his power. The Creed of Pius IV., to which every bishop, and every particular council since Trent, has been obliged to swear assent, proclaims the Roman Church “The Mother and Mistress of Churches,” denoting by the words “Magistra Ecclesiarum” not supremacy in government but in defining and teaching doctrine. The undoubted authority of the pope to teach and define doctrine by his apostolic authority, to condemn heresies and errors, and to command not only exterior but interior obedience and assent even from bishops, was universally recognized before the Council of the Vatican assembled. Appeals from his judgments to an œcumenical council have been forbidden for centuries past, under pain of excommunication. The infallibility of the pope in his decisions ex cathedra is a necessary logical deduction from his supreme authority in teaching and judging. It is false to say that it was doubtful before the Council of the Vatican defined it. It has been implied and acted on, as a fundamental principle of the Catholic Church, from the beginning. Some Catholics doubted or denied it, and the church wisely tolerated their error for a time, as she tolerated the Semi-Arians, awaiting the opportune occasion of destroying the error without damaging the cause of truth and the salvation of her children. That some few bishops at the Council of the Vatican still held to the Gallican error, that it was taught by a few professors and learned writers, that it was held by a small minority of the clergy and educated laity, and that a still greater number were not clearly aware of the true and Catholic doctrine, does not prejudice the case in the slightest degree. All these were bound as Catholics to recognize the infallibility of the definition solemnly promulgated by the pope with the assent of a majority of the bishops. Those who refused were excommunicated as heretics. The pope, together with all the bishops, clergy, and faithful of the Catholic Church, are united in the profession of the faith as defined in the Vatican Council, precisely as they were united in the profession of the dogmas defined at Nice, Ephesus, Chalcedon, and Constantinople, at Florence and at Trent. It is absurd to deny to a tribunal competent to define with metaphysical accuracy the most abstruse truths concerning the trinity of persons in the Godhead, and the divinity and humanity of the Incarnate 593Word, an equal ability to determine the attributions of the distinct parts of the Catholic hierarchy, and to define clearly how the infallible church is constituted in respect to the relations between her head and members. It is absurd to recognize the Council of Nice as infallible, and to deny the infallibility of the Council of the Vatican. They rest upon the same basis, the divine constitution of the Catholic Church in the episcopate as the Eccelesia Docens, with authority to teach and to command assent, under the supremacy of the successor of St. Peter in the Roman See. This is not an arbitrary authority to impose any opinion which may happen to command a majority of suffrages and receive the sanction of the pope. Neither is it an original authority, founded on inspiration, to propose truth immediately revealed. It is authority, in the first place, to deliver authentic testimony of the faith handed down by tradition from the beginning and continually preserved in the church, but especially in the Roman Church. It is authority, in the second place, to interpret and declare the true sense of all past decrees and decisions, of the general teaching of the church in past ages, of the doctrine of the Fathers and Doctors of the church, and of all records in which evidence is found of the traditional doctrine derived originally from the apostles. In the third place, to interpret and judge of the true sense of the Holy Scriptures, the principal source from which knowledge of revealed truth is derived. Finally, to declare the revealed dogmas contained in the Written and Unwritten Word, in Scripture and Apostolic Tradition, in clear and precise terms which are fit and proper to express them intelligibly, that is, to define dogmas of faith, and to require universal assent to these definitions under pain of anathema. The inerrancy, or infallibility, is a security from the accident of error in these dogmatic definitions, which results from a supernatural and divine assistance, overruling the conclusions of the human judgment which have been reached by a human and rational process, so far as needful, in order that they may not be faulty either by excess or defect as an exact expression of the revealed truth. This divine assistance is not given exclusively to the pope as an individual, to regulate the acts of his own mind, in thought or investigation regarding the revealed truths. It extends itself over the church universally, and over all the processes and methods by which the doctrines of revelation are preserved and developed in her living consciousness, and proclaimed through her organs to the world in their integrity. In the councils of the church it is by the assistance of the Holy Spirit to the deliberations of the bishops and theologians, as well as by his overruling direction of the exercise of his office of supreme judge by the pope, that the result is reached in the solemn and final decisions. This result is not a blind determination, a passive reception of an impulse superseding reason. It is a rational certitude, an enlightened judgment based on motives which are convincing and conclusive. It has the highest human authority, apart from the divine sanction which confirms it. When the prelates of the Vatican Council presented the dogmatic decree defining the infallibility of the pope, to Pius IX. for his sanction, history, theology, the consent 594of Fathers, Doctors, councils, and Catholic Christendom, and the Holy Scriptures as interpreted by a series of the most learned and holy men who have adorned the annals of the church, demanded through them the solemn confirmation of this decree. Pius IX. was called upon to declare the tradition of the Roman Church, the doctrine of his predecessors, the principle upon which the Holy See had always acted in defining faith and condemning heresy. He was asked to complete and confirm by his supreme authority the explicit or implicit judgment of nine-tenths of the Catholic episcopate. The absolute finality and divine authority of his judgment was not dependent upon his personal assertion of his own belief in his infallibility, as its support. His right and power to determine that the decree of the council should be final and irrevocable were beyond question or controversy. The fact that, by virtue of his right as Vicar of Christ, he defined something respecting the nature and extent of that right is irrelevant as an objection, and to make use of it as one is a sophistical artifice. If Almighty God is credible when he declares his own veracity, if Jesus Christ is credible when he declares his own divinity, the Vicar of Christ is credible when he declares his own infallibility. If God is God, he must be veracious; if Christ is Christ, he must be God; if the Vicar of Christ is his Vicar, he must be infallible. God does not command our belief without giving us evidence that he is God; Jesus Christ does not require our submission to his divine authority without giving us evidence that he is the Son of God; the pope does not exact our obedience to his infallible judgments without giving us evidence that he is the Vicar of Christ and the Vicegerent of God on earth. The Catholic religion makes no demand for irrational assent to anything. It is not mere logic and philosophy, but it contains both in their ultimate perfection, and will bear the most rigorous rational examination. It is logically consistent and consequent throughout, from its first principles to its last conclusions. There is no other religion or philosophy which is so, and the most illogical of all is pseudo-Catholicism.

595

CHILD-WISDOM.

A little maiden, dear through kindred blood

And loving from her very birth begun,

Stood at my side one summer afternoon

And hearkened quiet stories: bits of verse

That told of shipwreck and of strong sea-birds

That rode on sunny waves or beat their wings,

Storm-driven, ’gainst the sea-washed beacon-light.

Delighting in sad tales, wide-eyed she gazed,

Yet fearing, half, their ends might be too sad;

Still, bidding e’er, with doubtful joy in grief,

The repetition of each dolorous strain.

Then, choosing ’mong my books some pictured page,

She took my Roman missal on her knee,

Turned o’er its many pages one by one,

Seeking the prints that there lay interleaved,

Still patient turning as with conjurer’s touch

To win a richer harvest than she found.

From these oft-questioning, full-budded lips

No ave e’er had dropt in that sweet faith

That holdeth brotherhood with Bethlehem’s Babe

Blessing from Mary’s knees—true, guileless faith

That, suing so God’s Mother, dares to share

With Him dear claim unto her mother-love.

The thoughtful maiden’s little, childish life

Had grown ’mid alien faith where men half feared

To honor her whom God hath honored most,

Even while cherished they as solace sweet

Through sorrow’s hours, and sickness’ length of days,

Some picture of the Maid Immaculate

With heaven-bent eyes and meekly-folded hands,

’Mid luminous clouds, the cherubs at her feet—

The sinless Maiden dowered with quenchless grace,

Filling earth-weary hearts with rest and trust

By the mute strength of her soul’s purity.

And knew the little child of Jesus’ name—

By reverent mother and much-loving aunt

Told the sad story of Jerusalem’s loss.

So, still with constant question turning o’er

My pictured hoard, she begged that of its wealth

Some might to her be given, choosing first

What brightest shone with color deep and rich,

And, though, because to each least line there clung

Some precious thought, her question oft denied,

Persisting ever; till at length were found

Some little prints, less treasured, at her will.

596One, holy Joseph, with enraptured gaze,

The blossoming palm of justice at his side,

The Sun of Justice shining on his arm;

Another, our dear Mother Undefiled

Clasping in loving arms her Child Divine;

This favor found, but gave not perfect joy,

Since all uncolored, and so lacking worth

In ever-longing gaze of wide gray eyes

That pleaded softly, while the small child-lips

Begged that at least the little plain black print

Might have some color sweetness on it set,

Winning so heightened beauty as complete

As the bright pictures that she might not have.

The missal’s store no longer coveted,

It was laid by; the fairy colors brought

That should with simple touch the magic work

That might for all that wealth denied atone.

Expectant stood the little maid demure,

The round cheeks bent intently o’er the work,

The eyes drawn very near to closely watch

Each line of added joy the swift brush gave.

Clothed was the Mother in her cloak of blue,

And crowned the Child Divine with halo wide

That in its golden light still sadly bore

The shadow of his cross. With lesser glow

Was drawn the shining ring that loving wreathed

The Queen of Grace, crowned fairest in her Son.

Not so the little maid would have it done:

Just such bright halo cruciform must shine

Round Mary’s head, and spreading, too, more wide

Than his, her Child’s—his Mother, was she not?

More near the round cheeks drew: protesting lips

Would have the Mother with His glory crowned.

Telling the little one how God alone

The nimbus wears wherein is lined the cross,

I traced along the Mother’s simpler ring,

With gilded brush, a circle of fair stars

That in the asking eyes by far outshone

The shadowy cross’s sorrow-dimmed halo.

And so the maiden was well comforted,

And bore in triumph her much-prized spoils

Of that still, sunny afternoon’s calm talk

And pictured pages of my holy books.

And I a fine-wrought, warm-hued picture kept

That looked from innocent eyes of truthful soul

With child-wise lips and pure, unconscious heart,

Sweet witness bearing to our Mother’s state—

God’s stainless Mother with his glory crowned,

And in his sorrow sharing for our sake.

597

PARISIAN CONTRASTS. THE PARIS OF 1871 AND THE PARIS OF 1878.

Paris, May 22, 1878.

Scenes and sensations there are in life which seem to cut themselves into the soul as diamond cuts into glass, and on May 22, 1871, occurred one of this kind. On the afternoon of that day I was sitting on the balcony of a house in London with a large and merry party watching the “return from the Derby” up Grosvenor Place, every house and balcony in which was similarly draped in red and filled with bright faces and brighter dresses, with youth, beauty, and fashion, when a friend appeared amongst us, sad and solemn, come from his club in breathless haste, evidently burdened with some important news. In a few seconds a thrill of horror ran through the lively circle, for he had announced that the “Tuileries was burning! Paris was in flames!” Never shall I forget the sensation. All at once the countless carriages below, full of ladies and children, ranged in a line along the street; the four-in-hands coming back from Epsom, driven by, and filled with, the reigning “hopefuls” of the “Upper Ten,” whose faces as they passed betrayed the varied effect of the race on purse and betting-book; the dust-stained inmates and blue-veiled coachmen of the open landaus and hansoms, with their emptied picnic-baskets slung behind; the serious countenances of some, the smiling features of others; the thousand-and-one comic-tragic incidents of the motley multitude which make the return from this annual British Olympic game so celebrated—all suddenly faded from our view, for the eyes of the soul became transfixed on the appalling scenes then occurring in Paris, and their possible consequences caused all hearts to feel sick with anxiety and dismay. L’imagination travaille, it is true, at such moments, and is prone to exaggerate; but had not the Versailles troops succeeded in entering the city, our fancy would in no way have outstepped the reality. Until that day all had believed themselves prepared for the worst. The murder of the archbishop and his martyred companions had sorely grieved mankind, and a repetition of the guillotine scenes of the Reign of Terror we felt might any day occur; the idea was not unfamiliar, but so wholesale an instrument of destruction as petroleum, such demons has les Pétroleuses, had never entered into our wildest calculations. “The terrible year,” as the French have since so aptly named it, 1871 most truly was, not only for them but for the thinking world at large, who, from the universal confusion, the ungoverned passions, the fast-increasing atheism, had need of a confidence in Providence, supernatural in the highest degree, not to lie down and die of sheer despair.

Eighteen months later I passed through Paris on my way home from Switzerland, but so dolorous was the impression that I had fain leave it in a couple of days. Ruin, desolation stared one in the face at every step, and the smell of petroleum 598seemed to haunt one at every turn. The blackened shells of the historic Tuileries, of the beautiful Hôtel de Ville, the Conseil d’Etat, the Ministry of Finance, the Gobelin tapestry manufactory with its art treasures accumulated there during the last three hundred years, the blank in the Place Vendôme caused by the destruction of its splendid column, the felled trees in the Bois de Boulogne, and the complete annihilation of St. Cloud, town and palace, were sights which deprived us of all happiness during the day and of peaceful rest at night. Not less melancholy was the effect of the sad countenances of the inhabitants. The elasticity and cheerfulness which had formerly seemed to be a component part of Paris air was gone, and in its place one only heard tales of their sufferings in those days of anarchy, of the Pétroleuses seen gliding stealthily through the streets, of the petroleum strewn round St. Roch and the chairs piled up in the nave of Notre Dame, so that both churches might be set on fire, when the troops providentially entered just in time to prevent this and many other wicked designs being carried out. Instead of the brightness one remembered of yore, people seemed to have a suspicious dread of their neighbors, and veiled communism undoubtedly still lurked even in the best quartiers. One notable instance of the kind will never be effaced from my memory, and even now, though mayhap unjustly, makes me view Parisian cabmen with anything but affection.

My friend and I, feeling dejected and oppressed by sad thoughts, one morning determined to indulge our feelings by a kind of pilgrimage to the scene of the massacres, especially as we had known and revered the sainted archbishop at the time of the Vatican Council in Rome. Calling a cab, therefore, on the Boulevard des Capucines, we quietly desired the grinning coachman to drive us to the Rue Haxo. In an instant his expression changed to one of sturdy anger. He knew no such street; had never heard of it before; could not possibly take us there. Perceiving at once the spirit we had to deal with, and that he had divined our object, no other cab, moreover, being within view, we insisted no further on the point, but tranquilly told him to drive instead to La Roquette—the prison where the unfortunate victims had been confined. Knowledge of so large a place we knew he could not deny, and, trusting to our own general idea of its position, we felt satisfied when he apparently started in that direction. However, on and on we went, in and out of lane and street, without seeming to approach the object of our search, but as we proceeded soon found ourselves amongst a most forbidding population, men and women looking stern and sulky as we passed, and exchanging glances with our driver, who appeared known to many, while on more than one window were the ominous words, “Ici on vend le pétrole!” An involuntary shudder seized us, not diminished on reaching an open height whence we beheld La Roquette in a distant part of the town, and our horse’s head turned exactly the opposite way. The truth suddenly flashed upon us. Our Communist driver, possibly one of the undetected incendiaries or murderers himself, calculating on our ignorance, while unable to plead such on his own part, had cunningly outwitted us by driving in and out toward a different point, whither 599doubtless he would have gone on indefinitely but for our unexpected discovery. It was too dangerous a neighborhood in which to quarrel with him, even though but mid-day; therefore, merely telling him that we had altered our intentions, we tranquilly desired him to return to our original starting-point on the Boulevard des Capucines. Most curious was it then to note the same instantaneous change of countenance as before, but this time to an exultant expression as undisguised as the sulky mood of the previous hour. And how could we wonder at it? For had he not succeeded in defeating the object we had in view, and, moreover, inspired us with so much fear that we sighed to get away from such a population and never breathed freely again until safely back in the more civilized quarters? Our courage, however, then revived, and, determined not to be altogether conquered, we bade him turn aside and stop at the ci-devant Hôtel de Ville. Incredible as it now sounds, again he feigned ignorance, then pretended to have lost his way, and at length, when we forced him to “land” us there, the scowl and growl he honored us with made us realize, more than any description ever could, what such a being might be if uncontrolled, above all if multiplied indefinitely.

To-day, the 22d of May, 1878, as I stand in the new building on the Trocadéro and behold the scene before me, thinking of this recent past, I am tempted to doubt my own identity. Paris—the same Paris that was in flames on this day seven short years since—now lies, like a vision of beauty, outstretched around; the pretty Seine winds beneath its beautiful bridges, the countless boulevards are thick in shade and perfumed blossoms, the then unfinished streets finished, the scars and wounds well-nigh (though not completely) removed, all faces bright and people civil, and the whole city still hung with the thousand flags spontaneously hoisted on the opening day of the Exhibition, when England and America were everywhere given the posts of honor beside the tricolor. Opposite, the huge main building of this same Exhibition, standing on the Champ de Mars, is crowded with its fifty and sixty thousand daily visitors;^[126] the gardens between it and this Trocadéro, connected by the bridge of Jéna, are covered with a moving mass of all nationalities, while the Spanish restaurant, Turkish kiosk, Chinese “summer palace,” English buffet, Hungarian cafe, dotted with others around the grounds, tell of peace, and of a national revival unparalleled for its rapidity in the history of the world.

And what subjects for deep thought, what food for philosophic meditation, as one gazes at this glorious landscape, and from the hidden recesses of one’s memory spring forth recollections of the past few years!

My own acquaintance with this Champ de Mars dates from 1865, when in the August of that year I here witnessed a review of fifty thousand men in honor of Don François d’Assise, King Consort of Spain. On this last 1st of May, 1878, the same royal personage, long since classed amongst the ex’s residing in this capital, walked beside the Marshal-President, MacMahon, and the Prince of Wales in the 600procession which opened the Exhibition, and it were but natural to presume that thoughts of his previous visit must now and then have flitted across his royal brain. On that former occasion military of all arms lined the sides of the then arid square, while the imperial party advanced from the Porte de Jéna up its centre to a tribune in the Ecole Militaire. First came the empress, beautiful and popular, loudly cheered as, in her open carriage, she passed along the lines; next appeared the little Prince Imperial, not more than nine years old, riding far in front quite alone on his tiny pony, followed by his father, the emperor, and his royal guest, Don François d’Assise, escorted by an apparently brilliant gathering of distinguished military men. No prophetic eye was there to point out those who in brief time were to court the national defeat, or whose names would soon become bywords for corruption and incapacity.

Nor in the large mass of soldiery who required two hours and a half to march past, albeit in quick time, could any one discern the possibility of coming gigantic disasters. Alas! alas! what reputations have since then been blown into thin air, what calculations dashed to the ground, what history “acted out,” fearful suffering endured, theories exploded! Such thoughts are overpowering—sufficient to make the giddiest spirits ponder. And such, in truth, has been their effect of recent years in France; for, side by side with the marvellous material resurrection of this energetic nation, its religious revival has grown to astounding proportions. Not that we ever can admit with many passing observers that the French people were so completely devoid of religion as it has been somewhat the fashion to affirm—and on this point we thoroughly agree with the article by an eloquent Protestant writer in the Blackwood of last December—but the terrible events of 1871 have made the most frivolous more sober-minded, forced many an indolent mind to reflect, and from thoughts have made them now proceed to acts, to good works and alms-deeds. Above all they seem to have learnt the necessity of expiation and of prayer, and the whole Catholic portion of the French community since then have fallen upon their knees and endeavored to pray. Their pride, it is true, has been humbled, but they have taken the lesson properly to heart, and appear to have realized the truth that in all things, human as well as divine, “in order to live we first must die,” and that without supernatural aid even humility itself cannot be acquired.

And here it must be noted that mortifying as the defeat by the Prussians has been to French pride, it never could have produced the permanent effect on their characters which has been achieved by the frantic outbreak of the Commune. This it is which has so thoroughly sobered the entire nation and made them feel that every one must combine as against a common enemy. The republic, too, whether destined to last or not, has been productive of one incalculable service in depriving all its citizens of the possibility of shirking individual responsibility by throwing the blame, as heretofore, of every failure on some supposed or real despot; so that, while they have arisen from this death-struggle wiser and better men, Frenchmen 601now see the necessity, almost for the first time in their history, of taking an active part in public affairs and putting their own shoulders to the wheel.

But leaving these reflections, let us turn to the Champs Elysées and take a seat beneath its trees. What a contrast between the May of ’71 and this one of ’78! That all terror and woe, this one all joy and contentment. French mothers with their bonnes and babies are in groups around far and near, mingled with foreigners of all sorts and nationalities. Faultless carriages pass by, drawn by magnificent, high-stepping horses, of a size and breed formerly unknown in France, and which make many an Englishman exclaim with wrath: “This is the way in which all our horses are taken out of our country!” Doubtless he is right, though only to a certain degree; for the perfection to which horses now attain in France is said to be mainly due to the climate, which has been found to suit equine nature in a way undreamt of some few years since. Thus the breed, when once imported, is improved on French soil, and easily accounts for the multitude of fine horses at present met with all over Paris. This fact, however—together with the taste for horses, driving, and every other thing connected with the existing Anglomania, so foreign to the Parisian natures of forty years ago—owes its discovery to the late emperor, little as any Frenchman now likes to admit its possibility. Before his day no one ever thought of holding the reins, and almost as little of riding, not only in France but on the Continent, leaving such matters to grooms, as Easterns leave dancing to hired performers. But if these tastes were fostered by him before the war, the extraordinary development they have since acquired is one of the remarkable changes in modern Paris, and denotes both greater wealth—despite the Prussian indemnity—and more manly habits than in the “good old days long, long ago.” Louis Napoleon no doubt laid the foundation, but during the republic the edifice has been raised. He it was who inspired the tastes, prepared the ways and means, laid out the roads and drives—the marshal-president and his “subjects” who now profit by them. Perhaps one of the prettiest and most interesting sights nowadays in this beautiful city is the daily Parisian overflow of riders to the Bois de Boulogne between the hours of eight and ten, not only of men but of ladies, whose wildest dreams in former times never aspired to such an expensive pleasure. On a fine May morning “Rotten Row” has here a formidable rival both in numbers and in the steeds, with the difference, too, that instead of riding up and down a monotonous, straight road, the happy-looking parties of equestrians in Paris, almost invariably numbering many ladies, turn off into the fifteen small and large roads that surround the lake in the Bois, and there for a couple of hours enjoy a genuine country canter or a walk beneath pleasant shade. And mingled with these are pony-phaetons well driven by ladies, returning later laden with ferns, wild flowers, and greenery of various kinds. There is true enjoyment in sitting on a bench in the Avenue de Boulogne (once de l’Impératrice) and watching the well-shaped horses, their healthy looks and glossy coats, which would awake the envy of many a London groom, and are not more striking than 602the good seats of the fair riders and the vast improvement in those of the younger men. Of the number in the early morn the soldier-like President may here be seen, accompanied more than once during this month of May by the Prince of Wales or some other royal visitor.

But this is the afternoon, and, though our thoughts have flown back to the morning, we are sitting in the Champs Elysées and the hour for driving has arrived. Here comes a four-in-hand, driven, though somewhat badly, by the young Marquis de Château Grand—strictly à l’Anglaise, as he fondly hopes—closely pursued by the Duc de Grignon in his pretty dog-cart, attended by his English groom. “Victorias” with duchesses and countesses—the bluest blood of the blue faubourgs—follow in countless numbers. But whose is this open landau with its four black horses and gay postilions, containing two ladies in close converse as they pass along? The stout one is Isabella, ex-Queen of Spain—what memories her name evokes!—the younger “La Reine Marguerite,” as her intimates love to call her; in other words, the wife of Don Carlos, now the inseparable companion of Isabella, with that remarkable disregard to conventionality, considering the remonstrances of her son’s government, which has always been as strong an element in her character as the bonhomie that has led her into this intimacy, and also makes her love her present Parisian life almost as much as she ever did her throne. A few seconds later a handsome man rides slowly by, attended only by his groom, his sad, pensive countenance amidst this gay throng telling a tale of care and inward sorrow. It is Amadeus, son of Victor Emmanuel, but unlike him in most respects, now Duke of Aosta, once too “King of Spain,” and still grieving for his lost wife. Then, turning round to look again at the mass of children, voué to the Blessed Virgin, driving up and down in their blue and white perambulators, and which thus silently bear witness to wide-spread French devotion amid all the seeming worldliness, the eye falls on General de Charette as he walks by with some old friend, and whom we last saw commanding the Papal Zouaves in Rome during that eventful winter of 1870. Since then he has seen fire and fought valiantly for his own native land, he and his corps, as in the ages of faith, first making a public act of consecration to the Sacred Heart, the scapular being emblazoned on their regimental colors. Trial and suffering, however, have rather improved than injured him, for he has grown in size and freshness, mayhap owing somewhat to present happiness and the fair American who has lately brought him both wealth and beauty. Looking towards the road again, the Crown Prince and Princess of Denmark are seen driving past, but only to make us miss the sweet, smiling face of the Princess of Wales and the pleasant manners of the Prince, seen here on their road to the Exhibition every afternoon until last week, but now returned to England, not, however, until they had become such universal favorites and so completely won French hearts that if this were 1880 and not 1878, universal suffrage, it is said, if Paris were a criterion, would be very likely to offer Queen Victoria’s heir the doubtful honor of MacMahon’s place.

Nor does this in any way complete the list of royal representatives 603during this month of May in Paris. Archdukes of Austria, princes of Belgium and Holland, with Orleans princes and princesses, old and young, and, neither last nor least, the blind King of Hanover, Bismarck’s victim, and now permanently settled in the gay capital, may be here discerned by those who care to penetrate their incognito.

And not only during the day but at night is the city gay and full of life, for balls and fêtes are going forward, where twelve and fourteen royalties may often be seen at a time; nay more, unlike as in imperial days, the faubourg has come forth from its retreat, and legitimacy has opened its doors with hospitality, oftentimes with regal splendor.

Where, then, are the signs of poverty and depression which the enormous indemnity paid to Prussia and the sad events of recent years might lead a foreigner to expect? Naught but wealth and comfort is apparent; money and money’s worth; the rich showing every outward mark of luxury, the people well clad and housed; that squalor which makes itself so painfully visible by the side of London riches here entirely absent, life bright and cheerful as far as casual observers can perceive.

But beneath all this enjoyment, the flutter of flags on the “opening day,” the gathering of foreign princes as in the palmiest period of imperialism, and the evident revival of trade, in no other country is there so great a dread of impending evil, such a vague, undefined fear, baseless it may possibly be, but which it were folly to ignore. 1880 and the termination of the Septennate are ever before French minds, and the dreaded lack of durability, of a firm basis to their edifice, and the possible renewal of the Commune horrors seem nowadays always uppermost in their thoughts. Despite the outward symptoms of brightness, perhaps even frivolity, no change is more impressive to any one formerly acquainted with France than the grave and sobered character of the nation; the reflection which misfortune seems to have evoked, and the subdued tone their crushing defeat has stamped upon the entire people. The old crowing of the Gallic cock, so Napoleonic and offensive to strangers of yore, has, at least for the present, entirely disappeared and been exchanged for a tranquil manner, a greater civility in answering questions, and a total absence of the “swagger” so universal in the ante-war period. Hence, too, springs a sudden awakening to the possibility of other nations having special merits unnoticed formerly, with a studying of their minds and habits as compared with their own both in the press and private circles, which unconsciously betrays how terrible an ordeal the French have been passing through and how little they count upon its being as yet fully past.

Nothing, therefore, is so interesting and at the same time touching to any one who has not been in Paris since 1867 as to note the signs of change in these respects which meet us at every turn. One time it is the eloquent tribute of the Figaro to the reign and subjects of Queen Victoria on the birthday of that constitutional monarch; at another, the strict neutrality, so foreign to their natures, which this excitable people are maintaining in the present turmoil of the Eastern question; yesterday I noticed it at a dinner, when a heedless remark about the ruined Conseil d’Etat caused all 604the party to shudder and to exclaim, one after the other, that hard as it had been to eat horses—nay, dogs, and even cats, as many of them had had to do during the siege—the suffering was as naught compared to the terror of those fearful Commune days. One who had lived near the Palais Royal had seen the Tuileries burning from the end of her own street, another had been roused from her work by a shell throwing the opposite chimney down into her court-yard—and now that it is rebuilt an inscription records the fact—while a third had slept for the two worst nights, if sleep it could be called, in the cellar of her house, amongst the odds and ends of a band-box maker’s stock, who occupied the place. But the most singular experience of all, perhaps, was that of a family who then lived at their villa twelve miles outside of Paris, and became aware of the Conseil d’Etat being in flames from a shower of burnt paper falling on their lawn on that May evening of the 22d, 1871, of which some scraps showed the government stamp and belonged to documents of the state. And, perhaps, of all the Commune misdeeds the burning of this building and the Hôtel de Ville was the most malicious, for in both places marriage contracts and family deeds were kept or registered, and the loss and confusion which have hence ensued in families can never properly be estimated.

But it is especially in the churches, just where passing travellers have neither the time nor opportunity for observation, that the strides in religious fervor become most apparent. Above all in the Faubourg St. Germain is one at once conscious of breathing a different atmosphere. There the bells, as in old Catholic Swiss and German towns, wake one at five or half-past five o’clock of a summer morning, and keep up a constant call to Mass thenceforward until a late hour. There, too, should one turn in to a church on coming home from the Exhibition, he is certain to find devout women, and men also, lost in meditation before the Blessed Sacrament. “Kneeling-work” (as a late writer names this œuvre) and “reparation” are the practice of the day in the orthodox quarter. But especially before the Grotto of Lourdes in the Jesuits’ Church, Rue de Sèvres, is the crowd of ardent petitioners never ceasing and intensely fervent. I have watched them with admiration the many times I have been there myself, and the thousand ex-votos, many from military men, prove that their prayers have not been made in vain. The faubourg is also like a network of “Mother Honors,” second only to Rome itself in their number and variety. Sisters of Charity especially flit about it in every direction, and are even to be met with in the omnibuses or shopping with the utmost simplicity amidst the vast crowds of the Bon Marché. The devotions of the “Mois de Marie,” moreover, lend the district at this moment an additional source of ardor.

May, too, has ever been the month of First Communions, and those who know French life understand what this implies. The whole winter, nay, for many previous years, the catechism has been leading up to this point, and now since Easter Sunday the examinations have been constant and severe. Each parish has a day set apart in May for this great event, preceded by a short retreat, attended many 605times a day by all the children. Then on the happy morning the whole church is given up to the ceremony. All is arranged most systematically: the nave set apart for the two hundred or three hundred young communicants—rich and poor mixed together—the boys in front with white rosettes in their new jackets, the girls in rows behind enveloped in long white veils. Beautiful hymns are sung by the whole congregation, led by one of the priests; a touching sermon is preached by the curé; the parents are in the aisles, and many follow their children to the holy table. In the afternoon the little ones again meet to renew their baptismal vows in presence of the Blessed Sacrament, and the day closes by Vespers and Benediction. On that day week, before they lose their first fervor, in the same church the same children receive confirmation. These have been fête days for the whole family, nay, parish; and as parishes and churches are numberless in Paris, tiny brides and white-rosetted boys are met in all quarters during the whole of this beautiful month. If any of these children have the misfortune in after-years to lose their faith, their parents and the clergy at least have faithfully and zealously fulfilled their share of duty, while, on the other hand, it is a certain fact that in most cases this care lays the foundation of the solid virtues and tender piety, of that religious element in French life so well described by Mme. Craven and others, and which, side by side with the frivolity, is now making such sure and steady progress in every part of France.

The month of May, too, is here, as in England, the period of charitable bazaars, annual meetings, and rendering of accounts. Amongst others, two societies, the immediate offspring of the Commune, are now attracting much attention. One is that of St. Michael, to whom devotion as ancient patron of France has revived with marvellous ardor, and under whose protection has been placed the society for the distribution of good books; the other, “Les Cercles Catholiques,”^[127] or Working-men’s clubs, more deeply interesting than any other of the present day.

At this present moment Paris counts its eighty different “Cercles,” while the provinces possess not less than two thousand. The third Sunday after Easter, the Patronage of St. Joseph, is their annual feast, and on that day, while gay Paris was attending the races in the Bois de Boulogne, we were present at the afternoon service in the Cathedral of Notre Dame. A more imposing sight, with greater promise for the future, it were impossible to conceive; for six thousand members, but only that portion which consists of the schools and apprentices—many from the Belleville quarters—had marched thither, each headed by their own chaplain and carrying handsome banners, unfolded as they entered the church. For them the nave was set apart, all others being in the aisles, while the meek, venerable Cardinal-Archbishop of Paris sat opposite the pulpit during the sermon, the blind Monseigneur de Ségur at his side, the Comte de Mun and other gentlemen of the society directing the general arrangements.

The now celebrated hymn of the Sacred Heart composed by the blind old bishop was first sung; and 606if the sensation of the Derby Day in May, 1871, had cut deeply into my soul, it was now all but effaced by the sublime, thrilling emotion caused by this vast multitude answering each verse chanted by the choir by the famous, heart-stirring chorus of

Dieu de Clemence,

Dieu Vainqueur,

Sauvez, sauvez la France

Par votre sacré Cœur.

The effect at any time would have been marvellous, but with the knowledge that these six thousand youths had almost all been to Holy Communion that very morning, with such a past in one’s memory, and a congregation composed of such elements before one, it became simply overpowering. Moreover, we all knew that at the same hour, nay, at the same moment, the same prayer was being offered up in two thousand other churches in France; for, the provincial branches had made arrangements that their ceremonies should thus coincide with those of Paris. A procession, rendered picturesque as well as impressive by the six thousand lighted tapers winding in and out of the nave and aisles of this grand, historic cathedral and headed by the cardinal-archbishop, followed the short sermon, when a public act of consecration, with Benediction of the Blessed Sacrament, brought this most heart-stirring and encouraging celebration to a close.

And now, on the 30th May, since writing the above lines, another impressive ceremony has taken place in the same cathedral, but strikingly illustrative, too, of the increasing influence the religious element is obtaining in France—namely, a public act of reparation for the intended celebration of Voltaire’s centenary and in memory of Joan of Arc. Good principles have certainly made more progress than was supposed, for public opinion and the protests of the religious portion of the nation have forced the government to forbid the demonstration in honor of the enemy of Christianity. But, to show even-handed justice, they equally forbade all homage to Joan of Arc, even that of depositing wreaths around her statue in the Rue de Rivoli—erected, by the way, on the spot where she was wounded when attacking Paris for the king.^[128] No authorities, however, could or would interfere inside a church. Hence at three o’clock precisely the act of reparation commenced, every spot in the vast cathedral being occupied by a crowd, composed in greater part, too, of men, though the ladies, especially the “Enfants de Marie,” distinguished by their lighted tapers, mustered strong under their president, the Duchesse de Chevreuse. Amongst the number, in her Spanish mantilla, I recognized “La Reine Marguerite,” with many another high-born dame of far-sounding title. It was purely a work of devotion—vespers and benediction, the Miserere chanted by this enormous congregation, constituting the “reparation,” followed by a “Regina Cœli” which in beauty nothing could surpass. But the countenances of all present were a perfect study in themselves, showing the depth of their emotion and how different such ceremonies are in a country like this, where every one attends them for a solemn and public purpose, far more than for private, individual motives. It lends a sublimity to such acts that raises the spirit high above ordinary 607moments. Who, for instance, could behold the vast multitude beneath the roof of this lofty nave, which goes back to the ancient days of France, without remembering that Providence had saved it seven short years since from destruction by its own sons, and that the chairs whereon they were kneeling had been piled up in that same spot, in the hope of putting an end to all ceremonies or worship of this kind? As one listened to the “Regina Cœli,” and gazed on the beautiful statue of the Virgin Mother presenting to us the Divine Infant, and which stands amidst the lights and flowers over the altar outside the choir, courage and hope revived, and all left the sacred edifice with renewed grace to encounter their struggles in the cause of right. Most surely prayer and expiation are the strength and the duty of modern France, and with such reward as has been already vouchsafed to them her sons and daughters need no longer despair.