Chapter VI: Bianca’s Festa (4)

He gives to the high-priest not only an ornament analogous to that worn by the Egyptian kings――that is to say, the chiefs of the priesthood and the representatives of the Deity――but he preserves also the same symbolical idea which it had for the people of Egypt.

No created thing could either represent or even symbolize JEHOVAH; nothing but the most holy name itself could remind them of the uncreated Essence, who, being pure spirit, has no form. Hence the great importance of the name of Jehovah――or, more exactly, YAHVEH――in the history of Israel. The name of Him who dwelt in the most holy place, whose glory shone above the mercy-seat――this name alone, with the ascription of sanctity, was engraven on the golden fillet on the brow of his high-priest.[75]

“And the band shall be always upon his forehead, that the Lord may be well pleased with him.”

This idea of the abiding of God on the head of the pontiff-kings was one very familiar to the Egyptians, and has been expressed by them in a variety of ways. For example, we find the “_divine Horus_” forming with his wings a graceful ornament on the head-attire of some of the statues of the Pharaos, or again spreading his wings upon them to communicate the divine life.

The sign of the God of Israel was placed on the forehead of the high-priest, as if to overshadow him with his majesty, and to give merit and value to his offerings; supplying what was lacking to the perfection of the sacrifice by enveloping him who offered it with his own glory.

Under the ephod was worn the long _tunic_, called in Hebrew _Mehil_, the most noticeable part of which is its fringe, composed of little bells of gold alternating with colored pomegranates. The description given by Moses (Exod. xxviii. 31, 34) is very simple: “And thou shalt make the tunic of the ephod all of violet; in the midst whereof above shall be a hole for the head, and a border round about it woven, as is wont to be made in the outmost part of garments, that it may not easily be broken. And beneath, at the feet of the same tunic, round about, thou shalt make as it were pomegranates, of violet, and purple, and scarlet twice-dyed, with little bells between: so that there shall be a golden bell and a pomegranate, and again a golden bell and a pomegranate.”

The _Mehil_ was not only the counterpart of an Egyptian vestment worn by the Pharaos, and which we see represented with a broad hem round the neck, but we find upon it the same ornaments as those mentioned in Exodus――namely, acorns or tassels of colored threads alternating with pendants of gold.[76] There are in the Louvre some pomegranates of enamelled porcelain, furnished with a ring by which to hang, and which have evidently formed part of the border of a garment or a very large necklace. We find there blue, yellow, red, and white ones, of a shape that might have been run in the very mould of those which adorned the vestments of Aaron. Others, again, are made in the form of an olive, encased in a sort of network of colored threads. Nor are the little golden bells wanting. Some of those which have come down to us are of very pleasing and varied design.

It must not be forgotten that there was, in the ornamentation of the period we are considering, a singular admixture of Assyrian with Egyptian forms. Assyrian garments were also bordered with heavy fringes, the tassels of which sometimes take the form of pomegranates. Moses must have seen at the palace of the Pharaos, as ambassadors, as tributaries, or as captives, some of those Eastern princes whose majestic countenances and kingly garments long ages have preserved to us on the sculptured blocks of the palaces of Babylon and Ninive.

In a fragment of a Coptic translation of the _Acts of the Council of Nicæa_, which has lately been discovered by M. Revillout among the Oriental MSS. of the Museum of Turin, the fathers of the holy council give the following advice to a young man just entering into life: “My son, avoid a woman who loves gay clothing; for _displays of rings and little bells_[77] are but her signals of wantonness.”[78] The piety of the middle ages brought back these ornaments to their ancient and sacred uses. The memory of Aaron’s vestments gave the idea of fastening long borders of little bells to the edges of sacerdotal garments.[79]

Claude Quitton, librarian of Clairvaux, passing by the Château de Larrey in Burgundy, the 5th and 6th of September, 1744, saw there certain rich vestments, among others a chasuble, closed everywhere, save at the top to pass the head through, and having little bells (_grelots_) hanging all round its lower edge or border.

Thus through a long series of ages this custom of adorning vestments with bells has come, almost without a break, down to these latter centuries.

The other vestments of the high-priest were common also to the Levites, and, as well as the striking analogies between the Egyptian and Mosaic manner of offering sacrifice, may furnish matter for consideration at some future time. Meanwhile, we will close the present notice with the appropriate words of St. John Chrysostom: “Deus ad errantium salutem his se coli passus est quibus dœmonas gentiles colebant aliquantulum ilia in melius inflectens”――“God, for the salvation of the erring, suffered himself to be honored in those things which had served in the worship of idols, modifying them in some measure for the better.” And, continues this great doctor, God, by thus introducing into his temple all that was richest in the vestments of the Egyptians, all that was most solemn in their sanctuaries, most elevated in their symbolism, and most impressive in their ceremonies, willed that his people should feel no regret, and experience no want or void, in their worship of him, when, amid the new ceremonial, they should call to mind that which they had seen in Egypt: “Ne unquam postea Ægyptiorum aut eorum quæ apud Ægyptios fuerant experti cupiditate tangerentur.” It was not only fitting but also necessary that the worship of the Lord JEHOVAH should not in any point appear inferior to that of idols; for the unspiritually-minded nation of whom Moses was the leader was incapable of appreciating the greatness and majesty of God, except in some proportion to the splendor of his worship.

[46] _L’Egypte et Moïse._ Première Partie. Par l’Abbé Victor
Ancessi. Paris: Leroux, Editeur, 28 Rue Bonaparte.

[47] The secret of this art was only recovered by the
engravers of Damascus in the time of the caliphs.

[48] The name given by the Egyptians to their tombs.

[49] See Prov. vii. 16: “Intexui funibus lectulum meum,
stravi tapetibus pictis ex Ægypto”; Ezech. xxvii. 7; Pliny,
_Nat. Hist._, xix. 2.

[50] Euseb., _Evang. Prep._, 1. vii. c. viii.; _Pat. Grec._,
1. xxi. p. 530.

[51] “The Hebrews have so much affinity with the rites,
sacrifices, ceremonies, and sacred customs of the Egyptians
that I am fully persuaded we have before us either
Hebraizing Egyptians or Egyptizing Hebrews.”

[52] Exod. xii.

[53] The Apis of gold, worshipped by the Israelites in the
desert.

[54] Acts vii. 22.

[55] See in Sir J. G. Wilkinson’s work, _A Popular Account
of the Ancient Egyptians_, vol. i. pp. 267 and 270, two
arks, covered with the symbols of divinity. The long wings
of the genii are there represented as veiling the face of
Ammon Ra and Ra Keper――the _Creator-God_ and the _Hidden
God_. The two genii are face to face, and veil the divine
mystery with their wings, like the cherubim over the Ark of
the Covenant.

[56] The following episode in the life of David shows the
importance and purpose of the ephod in Israel: “Now when
David understood that Saul secretly prepared evil against
him, he said to Abiathar the priest: Bring hither the ephod.
And David said: O Lord God of Israel, thy servant hath heard
a report that Saul designeth to come to Ceila, to destroy
the city for my sake: will the men of Ceila deliver me into
his hands? and will Saul come down as thy servant hath
heard? O Lord God of Israel, tell thy servant. And the Lord
said: He will come down. And David said: Will the men of
Ceila deliver me, and my men, into the hands of Saul? And
the Lord said: They will deliver thee up.”――1 Kings xxiii.
9. See also 1 Kings xxx. 7, 8. Thus God answered by the
ephod.

[57] We find the following, for example, in Suidas, under
the word _ephod_: “_Ephod_ signifies in Hebrew _science_ and
_redemption_. In the middle of this vestment there was, as
it were, a star of gold, and on its sides two emeralds;
between the two emeralds a _diamond_. The priest consulted
God by these stones. If Jehovah were favorable to the
projects of Israel, the diamond flashed forth light; if they
were displeasing to him, it remained in its natural state;
and if he were about to strike his people by war, it became
the color of blood; or by pestilence, it turned black.”
(Suidas is here commenting upon Josephus.) _Ant. Jud._ i.
iii. c. 8, n. 9.

[58] Exod. xxviii. 6: “And they shall make the ephod of
gold, and violet, and purple, and scarlet twice-dyed, and
fine twisted linen, embroidered with divers colors.”

[59] Exod. xxxix. 3: “And he cut thin plates of gold, and
drew them small into threads, that they might be twisted
with the woof of the aforesaid color.” (Douai).

[60] Neither St. Jerome nor the LXX. are successful in
conveying any clear idea of the vestment.

[61] “In utroque humero, singuli sardonyches, auro inclusi,
_fibularum vice_ epomidem adnectunt”――_Antiq._, lib. iii. c.
vii.

[62] Calmet, Commentary upon Exodus, chap. xxviii. v. 11,
Edit. of Mansi.

[63] The exquisite chain of gold found in the tomb of Queen
Aa Hotep is terminated by two hooks shaped like the head of
the asp. Many very similar ones are to be seen among the
Egyptian antiquities in the Louvre and in the British
Museum. The eyes of the serpent, enamelled in blue and
black, have a striking effect.

[64] Exod. xxviii. 9-12.

[65] Glass case No. 4, in the _Salle Historique du Musée
Egyptien_ at the Louvre, contains jewels found in the tomb
of an Apis, and dedicated by a powerful prince. Some of the
most beautiful objects in the collection are contemporary
with Moses. See _Notice du Musée Egyptien_, by M. Rougé, p.
64.

[66] _Ant. Jud._, lib. iii. c. 7, n. 5.

[67] Exod. xxviii. 15-22, 29.

[68] Elian. _Hist. Div._, lib. xiv. c. 34.

[69] Diod. Sic., lib. i. c. 75.

[70] “The workmanship of this little gem,” says M. Mariette,
“is exceptionally admirable. The ground of the figures is
cut in open-work. The figures themselves are designed in
gold outlines, into which are introduced small cuttings of
precious stones; carnelian, turquois, lapis lazuli,
something resembling green feldspar, are introduced so as to
form a sort of mosaic, in which each color is separated from
its surrounding ones by a bright thread of gold; the effect
of the whole being exceedingly rich and harmonious.” The
fineness and precision of the work on the back of this
pectoral is as remarkable as that on the front.――_Notice sur
les principaux monuments du Musée de Boulaq_, par M.
Mariette, p. 262.

[71] A traditional symbolism attached the greatest
importance to this division of the twelve tribes and the
twelve stones into two unequal numbers. The prophecy of
Jacob is divided into two parts by the exclamation into
which he breaks forth after the name of the seventh
patriarch: “I will look for thy salvation, O LORD” (Gen.
xlix. 14). Ezechiel also, in the last chapter of his
prophecy, interrupts his narrative after the mention of the
seventh tribe by the description of the temple, and then
resumes his enumeration of the territories.

[72] With regard to the N pre-formative, see M. Ancessi’s
_Etudes sur la Grammaire comparée des Langues de Sem et de
Cham_――the S causative, and the subject N. Paris:
Maisonneuve.

[73] On the formation of trihterate radicals see, in the
above _Etudes_, “the fundamental law of the triliterate
formation.”

[74] In the Douai version translated “doctrine and truth.”

[75] “Thou shalt make a plate of purest gold, wherein thou
shalt grave with engraver’s work, HOLINESS TO THE LORD. Thou
shalt tie it with a violet fillet, and it shall be upon the
borders of the mitre, over the forehead of the
high-priest.”――Exod. xxviii. 36-38. The description given by
Josephus of the crown of the high priest would lead to the
supposition that the fillet of Aaron did not always preserve
its primitive simplicity. Speaking of a section of a diadem
ornamented with the cups of flowers, which passed round the
back of the head and reached to the temples, he adds,
however, that in front there was only the golden band
engraven with the name of Jehovah. The course of ages,
broken by captivity and troubles, as well as successive
influences, first Assyrian and afterwards Greek, may have
occasioned some modification in the form of the sacred
vestments of the Temple; and thus it is not surprising that
the descriptions of Josephus sometimes vary from the Mosaic
texts.

[76] See Wilkinson, vol. ii. ch. ix. p. 32.

[77] _Holk et Schiikil._

[78] _Concile de Nicée d’après les textes Coptes._ Par E.
Revillout. _Journal Asiatique_, Fev.-Mars, 1873.

[79] In a valuable MS. preserved in the library of Tournus
we read: “In aurifedo sancti Filiberti sunt xlix.
tintinnabula: inter stolam nigram et manipulum, xxi.; inter
stolam rubram et manipulum, xx.; in candida vero cum
manipulo, xxviii.; manipulus unus restat, ubi sunt tredecim
baltei cum quinquaginta tintinnabulis.”

LETTERS OF A YOUNG IRISHWOMAN TO HER SISTER.

FROM THE FRENCH.

ORLEANS, Feb. 15, 1868.

Dear, sweet Kate, I have seen Sainte-Croix again, and now I write to you. The general installation has scarcely begun; great agitation and noise in all directions. Everybody is surprised to see me so soon settled down and quiet, but Marianne and Antoine are of a fairy-like agility. René is busy; Marcella still asleep, having watched till very late by her little Anna, who was rather feverish.

Thérèse and Madeleine will regularly attend catechism at Sainte-Croix during some weeks, unless their mother consents to their speedy departure. This good and amiable Berthe has promised the superior of ―――― to send her daughters to her for a year at the time of their First Communion; now she hesitates, and none of us, to say the truth, persuades her to send them――they are so gentle and sweet, so truly two in one.

This is but a sign of life, dear sister. Good-by for the present.

FEBRUARY 17.

My good paralytic showed much pleasure at seeing me again. It is arranged that Marcella and I are to go to her by turns, and Gertrude, who ardently desires some active occupation, claims her share of _presents of poor_. Not a minute is wasted here, dear Kate. We are keeping the twins, not wishing to place them under any external influence; and although Arthur has entered at the Jesuits’, the good _abbé_ has consented to remain _permanently_ the guest of Mme. de T――――, as preceptor to these lovable children, whom he finds so attractive. Marcella is giving them lessons in Italian. How _learned_ they are already! Every month, in accordance with Adrien’s decision, there are solemn examinations. The delicate little Anna studies with zeal, finding herself very ignorant by the side of the twins.

I have knelt again before Notre Dame des Miracles, and have done the honors of Recouvrance to our fair Roman. Did I tell you that Margaret is a little jealous? “Keep me at least a tiny little corner in your heart, which I see invaded from so many quarters.” Her happiness has undergone no alteration; she is expecting and wishing for me.…

Read _Emilia Paula_, a story of the Catacombs. Mgr. La Carrière, formerly Bishop of Guadaloupe, will preach the Lent, and Mgr. Dupanloup will speak in the _réunions_ of the Christian Mothers. It is also said, though it is not very likely, that the great bishop will this year deliver the panegyric of Joan of Arc.

Marcella is in a state of enthusiasm. Her heart opens out in the warm atmosphere created for her by our friendship. Anna is well――still a little shy; the delicate temperament of the dear orphan having for so long kept her at a distance from anything like noisy play. Marguérite and Alix teach her her lessons. What pretty subjects for my brush!

We all communicated this morning, the anniversary of Mme. de T――――’s marriage. O my God! what can the soul render to thee to whom thou givest thyself? Oh! how I pity those who know thee not, who never receive thee as their Guest, who never weep at thy feet like Magdalen, who return not to thee like the prodigal, who lean not upon thy heart like St. John. Oh! with the divine and fiery beams of thy bright dawn illuminate this earth, wherein the evil fights against the good.

Still more deaths, dear Kate. See what Isa writes to me: “My grandfather suffers continually more and more from fearful pain and extreme weakness. His patience and resignation are admirable. We pray together; I read him the _Imitation_; the _Sick Man’s Day_, by Ozanam, which Lizzy has translated for me, since your friendly kindness made me acquainted with Eugénie de Guérin; also a book most effectually consoling, and to which my grandfather listens with tears. We make Novenas. He has received the ‘Bread of the strong,’ and the help of Heaven cannot fail this manly soul, who has passed through life so nobly.” Jenny has lost her sister-in-law――another house disorganized and without its soul. The little nephew is given to the two sisters, who are going to bring him up and educate him; and Jenny, who had a horror of Latin, is going to learn it in order to lessen its difficulties to the pretty darling.

Mother St. André is in heaven. It makes my heart bleed to think of the grief of Mother St. Maurice. It is so cruel a sorrow to lose one’s mother, and _such_ a mother――an exceptionally holy soul, friend of the saintly foundress, destined by Providence to such great things; who has known the brightest joys and the most deadly sorrows, seeing her children die after she had given them up to God. What holy joy gladdened her soul on that day when, herself a religious, she beheld her two daughters clothed in the livery of Christ, and her son, her third treasure, the third pearl in her maternal crown, a priest! What a family of chosen ones, and what sorrows! Oh! when this mother, at the same time austere and tender, was called upon to close her children’s eyes, were there not, side by side with the feelings of the Christian and the saint, those also of the wife and mother? Dear Kate, I can understand that a religious loves more deeply than other women. The love of God, sanctifying her affections and rendering them almost divine, communicates to them something of the infinite, which is not broken without indescribable suffering.

I am writing to Mother St. Maurice. How much I pray God that He may console her――he, the Comforter above all others, who alone touches our wounds without wounding us still more!

René is sending you a volume. The affection of all those who love you would fill many. May all good angels of holy affections protect you, dear Kate!

FEBRUARY 26, 1868.

Behold me with ashes on my brow――ashes placed there by the great bishop. “_Memento, homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris._” But, O my soul! it is but the envelope of flesh and clay which must return to dust. The immaterial being escapes the corruption of the grave; my soul, come from God, must ascend again to him.

Yesterday the dressed-up figures going about the streets were anything but attractive, but there were others elsewhere at which the angels would smile. M. l’Abbé Baunard, director of the _catéchisme_ of Sainte-Croix, a few days ago organized a lottery, with the produce of which some little girls, disguised as scullions, gave yesterday an excellent dinner to the old people of the Little Sisters of the Poor. This feast of charity was a charming idea, bringing together under the eye and the blessing of God smiling and happy childhood with suffering and afflicted decrepitude――poverty and riches, two sisters in the great Catholic communion. And the twins were not there! Our good _curé_ in Brittany requested _as a favor_ that they might make their First Communion in his church. The good _abbé_ is preparing them for it, and the ceremony is fixed for the 2d of July, the Feast of the _Magnificat_.

We are all in deep mourning for my Aunt de K――――, and neither visit nor receive company this winter; thus we shall have more leisure for our different works. Adrien and Raoul were present at the funeral. My mother feels this death very much.

Bought a pamphlet by the great bishop. It is admirable――worthy of Bossuet. What a portrait of the Christian Frenchwoman! What vehement and sublime indignation against those who would make this noble type disappear from _our_ France! What nobility of soul! Oh! if all fathers, if all mothers, heard these accents, which proceed from a more than paternal heart, how they would reflect upon themselves, and long to become worthy of the mission entrusted to them by Providence. Poor France! what will become of her? I was glad to hear one of the _vicaires_ of Sainte-Croix, M. Berthaud, in speaking of the horoscope of the impious against religion, say: “Prophecy for prophecy. I prefer to believe the words of the Count de Maistre, the noble genius who saw so deeply and so far into the events of the present time, and who said fifty years ago: ‘In a hundred years France will be wholly Christian, Germany will be Catholic, England will be Catholic; all the peoples of Europe will go into the basilica of St. Sophia at Constantinople to sing a _Te Deum_ of thanksgiving.’” God grant it may be so! Lizzy announces to me the mourning of Isa, who is not well enough to write to me. “There is a yoke upon all the children of Adam.” These words of Holy Scripture often come into my mind as I see all around me darkened by mourning. _Spes unica!_ Hope remains, and the love of God shows heaven open. Dear sister of my life, this letter, begun yesterday, is to contain yet a third funereal announcement: Nelly has been suddenly summoned from this world. I know how much you loved her. Thus this time of penitence opens for us. Dead!――Nelly, in her spring-time, her grace, her youth; dead, after a long and holy prayer, which had preceded a walk with Madame D――――.

Imagine the distress of this poor mother, roused from her sleep by the cry: “Mother, I think I am dying!” Mme. D―――― rushes, terrified, into Nelly’s room; her child embraces her with only these words: “Adieu――on high――heaven!…” and expires.

The whole town is in consternation. Margaret is inconsolable; all our friends are weeping. What a death! God has spared her all suffering. Let us pray for her, or rather for her unhappy mother; for I cannot believe that Nelly is not in heaven. Do you recollect that she used to be called _the Angel in prayer_?

René wishes me to stop here. Adieu, dear Kate.

MARCH 5, 1868.

I have been rather ill, dear Kate, and to-day I am beginning to get up. The doctor forbids me emotion, but as soon might he forbid me to live. Marcella has nursed me like a sister. Anna is growing stronger. How pretty she was, playing with her doll near my bed, silently and gravely, without any demonstrative gayety, but often raising her beautiful eyes to look at me!

I have thus missed the two first Lenten sermons. René has never left me a moment. Dear, kind René! how thoughtful he is, even about the smallest details.

A letter from Isa: still in bed; weak, very weak, but wishing to live, that she may be a comfort to her much-tried family. “Aunt D―――― finds no peace but when she is with me. Oh! I can truly say with St. Augustine that the Christian’s life is a cross and martyrdom!”

Hear what René was reading to me this morning: “Every Christian,” says Mgr. de Ségur, “receives in baptism the all-powerful lever of faith and love, capable of moving more than the world. Its fulcrum is heaven; it is Jesus Christ himself, the King of Heaven, whose love brings him down into the heart of each one of his faithful. The prospect of eternity keeps us from fainting. How everything there will change its aspect! Tears will be turned into joy――a joy divine, eternal, infinite, ineffable, of which none can deprive us for ever.”

May God guard you, dear Kate, and may he guard our Ireland, her cradles and her tombs!

MARCH 8, 1868.

Beautiful sunshine; your Georgina in the drawing-room; René at the piano, making the children sing a quartette. This harmony penetrates my heart. All these deaths had overwhelmed me; I have now recovered my balance of mind. Oh! it is undeniably sad to see so many sister-souls disappear; but they go to God. Each day brings us nearer to the eternal reunion; and your Georgina says, with Mme. Swetchine, that “life is fair and happy, and yet more and more happy, fair, and full of interest.”

Yesterday Monsignor preached at Saint-Euverte; I wished very much to go, but the wish was not reasonable. I must wait until Saturday for my ecstasy. Heard a strange bishop this evening. “I will give thee every good thing.” “The eye of man hath not seen, nor his ear heard, nor his heart conceived what God hath prepared for them that love him.” The preacher employed a profusion of words, thoughts, and images which interfered with his principal idea; and it was only with the greatest difficulty that one could keep hold of it under this overflow, this torrent, this avalanche of expressions, which, although rich and well chosen, were far too superabundant. Monsignor was there. How well he would have treated this fruitful subject! With what genius would he have depicted the immense suffering of man, who, being made for heaven, finds happiness nowhere upon earth, is never satisfied, whilst everything around him is at rest. “Without being Newton, every man is his brother, and, in proceeding along the paths of science, he can repeat that we are crushed beneath the weight of the things of which we are ignorant.”

Lamartine describes this when he says:

“Mon âme est un rayon de lumière et d’amour,
Qui du flambeau divin détaché pour un jour,
De désirs dévorants loin de Dieu consumée
Brûle de remonter à sa source enflammée!”[80]

Dear, sweet Kate, all the lovable little singing party salutes you. God be with you!

MARCH 11, 1868.

Dear Kate, again there are separations and adieux!

George and Amaury are entering La Trappe!――an unmistakable vocation, I assure you. Adrien and Gertrude are so far above nature since they have seen Pius IX. and suffered for him, that they gave their consent at once. _Grandmother_ clasps her hands and utters the _fiat_ of Job. Brothers and sisters wonder and admire. Happy family! All three chosen, all three marked with the seal of God! I should regret them, if I were their mother――so young, so handsome, rich in every gift of heart and understanding. O life of mothers!――Calvary and Thabor!

I knew nothing of it; they feared I should feel it too much. We all went to Communion this morning, and this evening they leave us.

What! have I not yet spoken to you about Benoni, who says my name so prettily, and who is growing superb? It is an unpardonable forgetfulness on my part. It was a pleasure to see this baby again, and his parents also, so sincere in their gratitude for the little that a kind Providence has allowed me to do for them!

_Evening._――They are gone. Adrien accompanies them; and Gertrude, whom I have just been to see, said to me simply: “Dear Georgina, now I can say _Nunc dimittis_. Will you thank God with me?” I knelt down by her side, breathless with admiration. O this scene of the adieux! Those two noble heads bent down to receive their grandmother’s blessing; the assembled family; the emotion of all; the last pure kisses――all this may be felt, but cannot be described. I know, I understand, how the Christian cannot render too much to God, who has given him all; but my heart is struck by the contrast between La Trappe and the world. On the one side austerities, silence, anticipated death, manual labor, and forgetfulness of earth; on the other a great name, a large fortune, easy access to any position, renown, and glory. Oh! how well they have chosen.

How I love you, dear Kate! How I love Ireland! I speak of it to the children, and love to hear them say to me, as the multitudes of Ireland said to our great O’Connell: “Yes, we love it; we love Ireland!”

MARCH 14, 1868.

Before going to rest, my beloved sister, I want to tell you that I was this morning at Saint-Euverte, and that I have heard the great bishop. Marcella was with me, especially happy, she said, because of the joy which she read in my looks. I sent back the horses, and we came home by _the longest way_, as the charming Picciola says, under a bright sun, which illuminated our bodily eyes, whilst the sunshine of the holy and noble words we had just heard illuminated the vision of our souls and opened out to us vistas of beauty. Dear sister of my life, sister unspeakably beloved, I found you on re-entering――a whole packet of letters, in which at first I saw only your dear handwriting. How truly it is yourself! I gave your beautiful pages to Gertrude: she will tell you herself what effect they have produced. Then Madame D―――― with a photograph of the departed child――of Nelly dead! How well I recognized her! This image of death moved me with pity for the poor mother, but I felt nothing like fear. Why should death make me afraid? Would the exiled son returning to his father fear the rapid crossing which would restore him to his country, his affections, and his happiness? And where is our country, where are our affections and happiness to be found, except in heaven, in God, who alone can satisfy our desires? Mother St. Maurice only sends me a few words, but so kind and tender. Margaret writes me the sweetest things; she complains of my silence, and informs me that the little cradle she is adorning with so much care and love will soon receive its expected guest. Karl is coming to us; reasons of fitness and of affection have detained him, but his desire is more ardent than ever. Oh! to think of seeing him without Ellen. Kate, what is life?

I am going to sleep, but first I wish to ascertain whether Anna is free from fever. Marcella was uneasy this evening.

They are both asleep, beautiful enough to charm the angels. The little one’s breathing is calm and gentle. I prayed by her, placing myself also under the sheltering wing of the invisible Guardian.

I salute yours, and embrace you, dearest Kate.

MARCH 16, 1868.

“As on high, so also here below, to love and to be loved――this is happiness.” Oh! how truly he speaks, and how I realize it every day! Your tender affection, dearest Kate, that of René, and of all the kind hearts around me――this is heaven, or, at least, that which leads one thither.

Mid-Lent, and the Feast of St. Joseph――this sweet and great saint, so powerful in heaven. O most glorious patriarch, who didst behold, and bear in thy arms the Messias desired by thy fathers, foretold by thine ancestor David and all the prophets, how favored wert thou of the Lord! Marcella said to me: “I have a particular devotion for St. Joseph, and a boundless confidence in him; I have often thought that he must have known a multitude of things about our Lord which no one has ever known.” O St. Joseph! remember those who invoke you in exile. What an admirable existence! What a long poem from the day when the rod of the carpenter blossomed in the Temple to that when Joseph expires in the arms of Jesus and Mary, the two whom every Christian would wish to have by him when on his death-bed! Never did any man receive a mission more divine than was entrusted by the Almighty to St. Joseph. I love to picture him to myself, grave, recollected, seraphic, accompanying Mary, that sweet young flower whom the angels loved to contemplate, leading her over the mountains to Hebron, to the abode of Elizabeth, then to Bethlehem and the Crib, then into Egypt――a long and painful journey through the desert. Did those who met the Patriarch, the humble and holy Virgin, and her dear Treasure suppose that it was the Salvation of the world who was passing by?

_Evening._――Karl is here, dear Kate, more grave and saintly than ever; his feet on earth, his heart in heaven! He gives us a week. Adrien arrived at the same time――two souls formed to understand one another. Letters from Ireland, where Karl’s departure is causing general regret. We spoke of Ellen――an inexhaustible subject. Karl was moved as he listened to me; there are so many memories of my childhood to which those of Ellen are united, making them doubly sweet.

Marcella, René, and Karl are wanting this letter to send to the post. Good-night, dear sister.

MARCH 21, 1868.

Dear Kate, I send you my notes, freshly made; you will kindly return them to me, that I may send them off to Margaret. We are visiting the churches with Karl. Anna and all the dear little people salute Mme. Kate. God guard you from all harm, dear sister!

MARCH 25, 1868.

Dearest Kate, what will you think of your Georgina getting the _Conférences aux Femmes du Monde_[81] into a religious house? But my Kate understands me; that is enough for me. _O amica mea, gaudium meum et corona mea!_ The beautiful Saturday did not end at Saint-Euverte: splendid festival at Sainte-Croix, the fiftieth anniversary of the priesthood of the good _curé_. It was magnificent, and the music also――like the hymns of heaven. To-day the Annunciation, the commencement of the Redemption. What a feast! How I should like, as in our childhood, to spend the day in prayer!

O sweetest Virgin, what a most fair memory in your glory! Gabriel, one of the seven archangels continually at the feet of the Eternal, spreads his wings, and from the heights of the everlasting hills descends into the valleys of Judea. Celestial messenger, you doubtless cast a glance of pity on the abodes of opulence and the vanities of the world; or rather, you saw them not. Absorbed in your admiration at the mercy of the Almighty, you adored and gave thanks. And now a Virgin of Nazareth, in the tranquillity of prayer and love, is suddenly dazzled by an unknown light, and the archangel salutes her in the sublime words which will be repeated by Catholic hearts to all generations: “_Ave, gratia plena!_” O Mary! from this day forth you are our Mother, the Mother of our Salvation. O Handmaid of the Lord, humble and sweet Mother! obtain for my soul humility and love.

Hail to the spring, the swallows, the periwinkles, all the renewal of nature! How good is God, to have made our exile so fair! Oh! how I enjoy everything, dear Kate.

Presented Karl with the portrait of Ellen, painted from memory. His silent tears expressed his thanks. I have made him also sit for his likeness; it will be a precious remembrance of this true friend. Who knows whether we shall ever meet again in this world? Thus the days pass away, shared between regret and hope.

The good _abbé_ is delighted with the progress of his pupils. Anna grows visibly stronger. I am reading Dante with René. Ah! dearest, how magnificent it is. Marcella speaks Greek and Latin, and wishes me to read Homer and Virgil in the original. Wish me good success, dear. A long walk; met a little beggar, whom Picciola fraternally embraced. What a pretty scene, and how I afterwards kissed my dear pet!

Love me always, dear Kate.

MARCH 28, 1868.

Darling Kate, I send you my notes without adding anything, because we have Karl with us for only one more day. O these departures! _Laus Deo_ always, nevertheless.

MARCH 30, 1868.

Dear sister, Karl is gone! I am not sorry; I shall see him again, and he will then be nearer to God. How happy it is to feel that God is the bond of our souls! Yesterday, Sunday, his last in the life of the world, we went together to Sainte-Croix, where we heard a long sermon, a veritable encyclopædia: Godfrey de Bouillon at Jerusalem; Maria Theresa in Hungary, with the shout of the magnates in French and in Latin; the proud Sicambre listening to the Bishop Remy; St. Elizabeth on the throne, and then in penury; St. Thomas writing sublime pages before his crucifix; St. Francis of Assisi receiving the stigmata; St. Bernard; St. Catherine of Genoa; the Crusaders; Magdalen at the foot of the cross; Veronica wiping the face of our Saviour, etc., etc., appearing in it by turns. A day of unspeakable serenity. Karl sang the _Lætatus_ for his adieu. Dearest sister, how happy Ellen must be!

You will see Karl. Tell me if you do not find him transfigured. We read, during his too short stay with us, the life of Mme. St. Notburg, by M. de Beauchesne――another saint in Protestant Germany, a French saint, though her tomb is there. I have asked Karl to take you this book; read, and see how excellent it is!

And so the month of St. Joseph is ended! O protector of temporal things! guard well all whom I love.

Marcella, my winning Marcella, is a poet; I ought to have told you this. I gave her a surprise: her most feeling lines have been printed in a newspaper, which I managed to put before her eyes. She blushed and grew pale――the first emotion of authorship. Poor heart! for so long severed from love, and which so soon lost that whereon it leaned. “O Madonna mia! how good God is,” she often repeats with ecstasy in admiring her beautiful little Anna, who grows wonderfully. I think this child was too much kept in a hot-house, when she had need of air, space, and movement. I can understand how her mother may well doat on her: she has a way of looking at you, kissing you, and of bending her forehead to be kissed, quite irresistible. _Carissima_, how I love her, and how fondly I love my Kate!

René is writing to you; everybody would like to do the same.

APRIL 3, 1868.

Feast of the Compassion. _Stabat Mater Dolorosa!_ Have I mentioned to you the new frescoes of Recouvrance, dear Kate?――the birth and espousals of the Blessed Virgin. The first does not impress me; but the second! The high-priest is admirable; his purple robe gleams like silk. Mary is not so beautiful as in Raphael’s pictures. I have undertaken a painting on ivory which I wish to send to the amiable Châtelaine in Brittany, whom I think you cannot have forgotten. I am making Anna sit for her portrait, she looks so sweet.

Mgr. de Ségur, author of the poem of _St. Francis_, has just written a tragic poem, _St. Cecilia_. What a fine subject, and how well the writer has been inspired! Isa must read it. You see whether my life is occupied or not. God, the poor, the family, friendship, study――my mind is full!

The language of Homer no longer appears to me so difficult as at first. But Latin――oh! this is charming, and I delight in it; in the first place, because I am still at _rosa_ and _rosarium_. What a head Marcella has! She has learnt everything, and sings like Nilsson. If only you could hear her in _La Juive_! This is profane music; but we have pious also, and Marcella enjoys _Hermann_.

This note will be slipped into the envelope destined for Karl. Lizzy announces to me her visit. Good-night, _carissima sorella_.

APRIL 5, 1868.

And so we are in Holy Week, my sister. I have here a blessed palm, sweet and gracious souvenir of the Saviour’s entry into Jerusalem. O King of Peace! bring peace to souls. Have pity upon us; assemble together at thy holy table both the prodigal sons and the faithful; grant peace to thy church! To all troubled hearts, to all those who suffer, to those who are oppressed and persecuted, give the hope of heaven――of that eternal dwelling where all tears will be wiped away, where all lips will drink of the stream of delights, and where every heart will receive the fulfilment of its desires. Why does Lent come to an end? I could listen for ever to the lovely chants of the _Miserere_, the _Attende_, the _Stabat Mater_, and the _Parce Domine_. No sermon, to my mind, equals the _Stabat Mater_, sung alternately by the choir-boys, with their pure, melodious, aërial voices, and the men who fill the nave, and who, varying in their social position, fortune, and a thousand things besides, are one in the same faith, the same hope, and the same charity.

Dear Kate, I shall send you on the day of _Alleluias_ my journal of the week. Thanks for having allowed me to come to you as usual during this Lent; to read you and talk to you is a part of my life.

A thousand kisses, my very dearest.

APRIL 6, 1868.

My sweet sister, I have just come in with René from Mass. We communicated side by side, like the martyrs of the catacombs. As we came out, and while still under the deep impression of the presence of God, René proposed to me a sacrifice――that of not speaking to each other, at any rate without absolute necessity, during this week. My heart felt rather full――it will cost me so much; but how could I help consenting? Oh! but how love longs to speak to the object loved. I shall have to throw myself into a whirl of things, and absorb myself in them, that I may not find this privation quite insupportable.

7th.――Yesterday evening, at Sainte-Croix, Monsignor spoke for about twenty-five minutes. I was too far off to hear, but I was none the less happy. I am reading Mgr. de Ségur; his teaching is gentle and loving, even when he speaks of self-renunciation and sacrifice. Nothing is more comforting than his little work, _Jesus Living in Us_. I remarked this thought of Origen’s: “Thou art heaven, and thou wilt go to heaven!”――Confession. How well the good father was inspired! What wise directions! I came out strengthened and courageous; but alas! alas! poor, sorrowful me, on coming in I found a letter awaiting me――a letter from Margaret. Lizzy is greatly indisposed, and obliged to give up her journey. This made me shed tears, and, as René did not ask the cause of my pain, I repented for a moment that I had undertaken so hard a sacrifice. Dear Kate, it was very wrong, and your Georgina is always the same.

8th.――Letter from Sarah, full of joy; her sister Betsy is to be married on the 22d, and wishes for me to be at her wedding. Kind friend! God grant that she may be happy! Until this present time, with the exception of the terrible strokes of death which have fallen not far from her on the friends of her childhood, her life has been calm and happy, almost privileged. She has never left her mother.

Marcella, Lucy, and I are preparing an Easter-tree for all the darlings. I have been studying very much lately; _Marcella mia_ assures me that I make wonderful progress.

Benoni does not expect to share in the festivity, but he must; and how joyfully he will clap his hands at the sight of the playthings hung there for him!

My paralytic told me yesterday that she would like to make her Easter Communion next Thursday――that is, to-morrow. Gertrude and I must rise with the dawn to make an escort for the gentle Jesus, the Comforter of the infirm and poor. Ah! dear Kate, how much I should dislike the life of a Chartreux. To see René and not be able to speak to him, when I feel such a want to pour out my thoughts to him, is a martyrdom. So far, thanks to our good angels, we have not been found out, and we have not said a single word to each other.

9th.――What emotions! My poor and venerable paralytic has just died in my arms. I return to pass the night by her. Gertrude undertook to obtain René’s permission. She communicated this morning in ecstasy, and blessed us afterwards. As I observed something unusual about her, I begged Marianne to go several times. A long walk to the different _sepulchres_ in the churches with our train of little angels, and without René, who avoids me, from which we returned home at six o’clock. I found a line from Marianne, entreating me to join her as soon as possible; so I hurried away with Gertrude. The dear sufferer had scarcely a breath of life left. “I was waiting for you that I might die.… Thanks!… May God reward you!” Dear Kate, I was ready to drop from fatigue, but I know not what exciting power sustains me.

10th.――O Christ Jesus! who saidst: “When I shall be lifted up from the earth, I will draw all unto me,” draw all hearts for ever unto thyself. René passed the night by the lowly couch with me, and we came home together, still without speaking. This evening, at Sainte-Croix, heard Mgr. Dupanloup. The force and authority of his language make a deep impression upon his hearers. “There is in Christianity everything which can naturally go to the heart of man.” How he speaks of the Crib and of Calvary; of the Mother whom we find with the Holy Child at Bethlehem, and again with him upon the cross! When the clock struck eight, he stopped. How eloquent he is! He quoted our Lord’s words, “He who shall say Lord, Lord, will not, for that reason only, enter into the kingdom of heaven, but he that shall do the will of my Father who is in heaven”; “The same shall be to me as a brother, a sister, a mother”; and this thought of Rousseau’s: “There is in Christianity something so divine, so intensely inimitable, that God alone could have been its author. If any man had been able to invent such a doctrine, he would be greater than any hero.”

Mgr. la Carrière preached an hour and a half. Remarked this passage: “Pilate washes his hands. Oh! there is blood upon those hands. Were the waters of the Deluge to pass over them, still would they keep the stain of blood!” This reminds me of Macbeth, where, looking on his murderous hands, he says:

“What hands are here? Ha! they pluck out mine eyes.
Will all great Neptune’s ocean wash this blood
Clean from my hand? No; this my hand will rather
The multitudinous seas incarnadine,
Making the green one red.”

11th.――Was present at the funeral of this saintly friend, whom God had given me through Hélène. Looked through Marcella’s manuscript books, in one of which she wrote a year ago: “Cymodoceus said: ‘When shall I find again my bed of roses, and the light of day, so dear to mortals?’ And all this harmonious page put in his mouth by Chateaubriand. And I, for my part, say: When shall I again find heaven, from whence I feel that I came? When shall I find the happiness of which I dream, and which I know too well there is no possibility of finding here below? When shall I find eternal beauty, eternal light, eternal life? But before that hour grant, O Lord! that in this world I may find, in the shadow of thy cross, that peace which thou hast promised to men of good-will; grant that, for myself and my child, I may find a little rest after the storm! Give us the heavenly manna; overshadow us with the bright cloud; grant us, above all, to be beloved by thee!”

St. Teresa used to say: “The soul ought to think that there is nothing in the world but God and herself.” René must have meditated on that.

12th.――_Alleluia!_ dear Kate, _Alleluia!_ No more penance, no more of this torturing silence which so resembles death; but now talking to each other without ceasing, songs, letters, walks――and always prayers.

What will you think of my week, _carissima_? Oh! I could not have borne it longer; I found René too holy for my unworthiness. Not a word, not a look. It was like the visible presence of my guardian angel. How delightful it is to hear his voice again!

Went to the Mass for the general communion of the men; no spectacle on earth can be more admirable or more touching. This scene was worth far more than a sermon――this multitude of men, so perfectly attentive and earnest, singing heartily the sweet hymns they all had sung on the day of their First Communion! And what joy to see in this Christian assembly those to whom I am bound by affection, and to feel myself united in the grand fraternity of the faith to all these happy guests at the Lord’s table!

The benediction was all that can be imagined of religious and magnificent. What singing, what alleluias, making one think of those of the angels! Why do such days ever end? O risen Saviour! grant that we may rise with thee.

Benoni was out of himself with joy. The meditative Anna jumped about in her delight. The festivity was perfect, and, to crown it, news arrived which I will send you as my adieu. Margaret is at the summit of happiness, the

_Doux berceau qu’une main jalouse
Orne et visite à chaque instant,
Charme des songes d’épouse
Doux nid, où l’espérance attend_.[82]

has received the little stranger sent by Heaven. Let us bless God, dear Kate! _Alleluia!_ Christ is risen! Happy they who live and die in his love! Alleluia!

APRIL 16, 1868.

Thanks, dear sister! I have translated Mgr. Dupanloup at Saint-Euverte for Isa. Lizzy is better; they had been too much alarmed about her, but they are expecting us there. Lord William sends us the most pressing and affectionate appeals. Sarah also writes to me, gravely this time: “My sister’s marriage will separate her from us. Two sisters will henceforth be wanting to this family group; the one, and that the happiest, enkindled with love for the Best-Beloved of her soul, left the world for God and his poor, and, shortly afterwards, the poor for eternity; the other is going into Spain.”

Imagine Margaret’s joy! Dear, sweet friend, how, with her, I bless God! “No baptism without Georgina.” Oh! how I long to embrace the dear little creature, to whom I send my guardian angel a hundred times a day. I am so anxious he should live!

Walk in the country, alone with René, who read me some letters from Karl, George, and Amaury; the latter will write to their uncles no more. What detachment! René read to me also this beautiful passage from Madame Swetchine from the notes of Hélène: “The day of the Lord is not of those days which pass away. Wait for it without impatience; wait, that God may bless the desires which lead you toward a better life, more meritorious and less perilous; wait, that he may give abundant work to your hands from henceforth laborious, for the opportunity of labor is also a grace by which the good-will of the laborer is recompensed. Let not your delays and miseries trouble you; wait, learn how to wait. Efforts and will, means and end――submit all to God.”