Chapter IV (1)

In the last number of the MAGAZINE we left the patriotic Irishmen of the Twenty-Eighth Regiment in their Camp Cameron, at Cambridge, dreaming of the heroic deeds of their race on foreign fields; of the proud chronicles of the valor of the European Irish Brigade at Fontenoy and Ramillies that illumine the pages of French history; of the saving of Cremona by the Irish regiments under Count Dillon and Col. Burke; of Lord Clare's dragoons at Blenheim, which, although victorious to the arms of John Churchill (great Marlborough), and his Teutonic allies the defeat of Marchal Tallard, commanding the French and Bavarians, was relieved of some of its ignominy by the capture of two standards from the British by these dashing Irish troopers; of the fields of Staffardo under the exiled Lord Mount Cashel, and many other inspiring military achievements and successes of these Irishmen who vowed by Erin's Sunburst:

"That never! No! never! while God gave them life
And they had an arm and a sword for the strife,
That never! No! never! that banner should yield
As long as the heart of a Celt was its shield;
While the hand of a Celt had a weapon to wield,
And his last drop of blood was unshed on the field."

The Twenty-Eighth Regiment was formally mustered into the United States service December 13th, 1861, with Col. William Monteith commanding. Col. Murphy, it seems, only assisted in the recruiting of the regiment.

Christmas Day found the command not yet ordered forward, still at duty in the Cambridge camp. The day was duly honored with religious services and social interchanges. The boys were provided by loving friends with the wherewithal to make merry and to toast the sweethearts not yet made exactly of the class of "The girl I left behind me," although in the expression of the conviviality of the hour that and kindred airs were jovially rendered by the rollicking blades who were bound to make the great festival as merry as possible. In the "privates" as well as the officers' quarters during the evening, innocent revels were made up of feasting, the witty jest and repartee, playful jokes, songs and stories until "taps" reminded all through the orders of the officer of the day, that the night of Christmas Day had a new significance for these Irish volunteers. Before another return of it, how many of these fine fellows were food for powder and worms. A touching and very natural little incident in one of the tents will not only illustrate the genuineness of the soldier's heart, but also may be set down as a sample of the kindred feelings of many comrades who shouldered a musket for the preservation of the country. When the lights were put out as ordered by the "taps" patrolling guard, a fine young fellow, who had during the evening been merriest of the merry, was seated near the opening of the tent, bowed down in thought, while the fitful flickering of the expiring camp-fire shone through the handsome, glossy hair that drooped over his temples. His suppressed sighs brought an older and much attached comrade to him, who, putting his arms kindly around the youth's manly shoulders said, in lowered tones:

"Arrah, Jim, ma bouchal, what's the matter with you, at all, at all? Has all the fun gone out of you?"

"No, no, friend Tim! But this night last year I was with my poor old mother. I'm all that's left to her now, and when she hears I am in the war, her poor heart will break, and if it is ever my luck to return to Ireland it will, I'm afraid, be to visit her grave in Kilmurry church-yard."

"Oh, the _wirrasthru_, and that's the pity av it, Jim. But don't you be thinking of these things and be sad, or faix's, you'll make a fool of a soldier of me with thinking of my sweet Kitty and the two childer. They'll be safe, at any rate for awhile, until we can put in a few good blows for the glorious country that has given us freedom and a home. Jim, me boy, our enemy, England, is at the bottom of this bad business. You know the ould song, 'She comes to divide, to dishonor;' but a tyrant she'll never reign here while we have a hand to lift and"--(Tim just then kindly slapping his chum on the back) "a heart to dare her!--and"--

The fervor of Tim aroused comrades in the tent, who gave signs of approval.

"And, perhaps when we have finished this business, as Secretary Seward says, in three months we'll have a nice training to go across the ocean with our arms, and wollop John Bull out of the dear old land."

"Good boy, Tim! good boy;" were the tokens of approval that came vociferously from all parts of the tent, while at the same time the double quick tread of the patrol guard, preceded by the flash of the corporal's lantern was hastily bearing down on the devoted quarters to stop this untimely ebullition of patriotic fervor, and noticing which Bill and Tim grasped hands fervently, but hastily, in approval of the sentiments of the latter. When the corporal looked into the tent the dozen soldiers it contained were all rolled up snugly in their blankets and sound asleep, apparently. 'Twas to the noise, not to the patriotism to which the corporal objected, fearing censure or worse from his superiors. Had he been off duty, no man likely would have more heartily re-echoed Tim H----'s patriotic expressions.

Days and weeks passed. In the meantime the officers and men, through military routine, were perfecting themselves; but for heavier work than was anticipated.

At last the call came, and amid heart-breaking farewells from wives, sweethearts and children, and the cheers of the throngs assembled to bid the gallant fellows good-by, the Twenty-Eighth Regiment left Boston, January 11, 1862, and went to Fort Columbus, New York harbor, from which place on February 14, it was sent to Hilton Head, South Carolina. The regiment was at a place called Darofusky Island when Col. Monteith was ordered off with the right wing to duty, on Tybee Island, Georgia. It was here that Col. Monteith did his last service with the Twenty-Eighth. The whole command was subsequently transferred to James Island, at which place in an attack on Fort Johnson, the regiment lost fourteen killed and fifty-two wounded. Gen. Benham, U. S. A., paid a high compliment to the command for the handsome manner in which they joined in the assault on the fort June 16. On July 20, the regiment was assigned to Gen. Burnside's Ninth Corps, and after being a while at Newport News, Virginia, landed at Aquia Creek, on the Potomac River, August 6th, to participate in the campaign of Gen. John Pope, "headquarters in the saddle," on the line of the Rappahannock, and which terminated so disastrously to our arms at the second Bull Run battle. Major Geo. W. Cartwright commanded the regiment in this severe engagement and was wounded. Eighteen men were killed and one hundred and nine wounded, with eight missing. This was August 30th. On September 1st at Chantilly, memorable by the death of that daring soldier, Gen. Phil Kearney, the Faugh-a-Ballaghs lost fifteen killed, with eighty-four wounded, and casualties. We find the regiment under heavy fire at South Mountain, and at Antietam's great battle, it crossed the creek at the stone bridge, charged the enemy's right, located in a most advantageous position, and drove them, sustaining a loss of twelve killed and thirty-six wounded.

About one month after this, Col. Richard Byrnes,[1] on October 18, assumed command of the Twenty-Eighth at Nolan's Ferry, and on the 23d of November, it was transferred to the Second Corps and assigned to Meagher's Irish Brigade, which was in the division commanded by that much lamented and knightly soldier, Winfield Scott Hancock. At the close of the year 1862, some two weeks after fateful Fredericksburg, the reckoning showed that the Faugh-a-Ballaghs lost five hundred and twenty in killed, wounded and missing. The second Christmas Day for the boys of the Twenty-Eighth brought many sad reminders. Poor Kitty H---- and her babies had to mourn the loss of her brave Tim, the Irish patriot of Camp Cameron, and the poor heart-broken mother of his young chum drooped and pined in Ireland for the son who was the solace of her hope and heart. She had the premonition of his death, at the battle of Chantilly, so weirdly given in Gerald Griffin's "wake." She saw the blood-red cloud in the west far out on the Atlantic's tide and while--

"Her door flings wide, loud moans the gale;
Wild fear her bosom fills;
It is, it is the Banshee's wail
Over the darkened hills!
Ululah! Ululah!
A youth to Kiffiehera's taken
That never will return again."

The Christmas of 1862 in the camps of the Union Army on the left bank of the Rappahannock, confronting Fredericksburg, was rather wanting in good cheer, although so near the Potomac, and it was only until Gen. Hooker superseded Burnside in command of the Army of the Potomac, that rations of potatoes could be had to serve out to the half-famished troops. What a delightful supplement to a soldier's mess is even one good potato and a piece of onion, when for weeks his only change has been from hard tack with fat pork to pork (fat) and hard tack! The regiment performed the usual duties of beleaguers when St. Patrick's Day got round to them in the camps of the Irish brigade at Falmouth, Va. If not very active participants with their New York fellow soldiers in the sports of the steeple chase, race-course, and other parts of the programme, yet the boys of the Twenty-Eighth could not have failed to enjoy with enthusiasm the hilarity and frolics of that occasion. At least ten thousand had assembled from the camps cantoned in winter quarters for miles between the Potomac and along the Rappahannock Rivers. The grand stand contained the commander-in-chief and other distinguished generals and officers, and a number of ladies. Besides Hooker, the commander, there were conspicuously present Generals Slocum, Hancock, Charles Griffin, Sedgwick, Franklin and others. Together with the races of the thoroughbreds, there were also long prize lists, programmes of amusements, such as catching a soaped pig, and competing for money, and mastery at dancing Irish jigs, reels and hornpipes. An idea may be had of the provision made for the entertainment of the invited guests from the following summary of the bill of fare which the quartermaster of the brigade brought with him from Washington for the occasion: The side of an ox roasted, thirty-five hams, a whole pig stuffed with boiled turkeys, and "an unlimited number of chickens, ducks and small game. The drinking materials comprised eight baskets of champagne, ten gallons of rum and twenty-two of whiskey." Thus sayeth the record. All of this was served inside a beautiful bower capable of containing several hundred persons. The festivities were duly preceded with the religious ceremonies of the great holyday of St. Patrick's feast, and closed by a grand entertainment at night, which included theatricals, recitations and olios of song and sentiment.

It is needless to add that the visiting generals, whose duties admitted of their remaining, entered into the humor of the hour, and toasts went freely round, intermingled with flowing bumpers and loving glances at the fair visitors, who graced the occasion by their presence.

We afterwards trace the heroic work of our Massachusetts Faugh-a-Ballaghs in their valiant services at Chancellorsville; at famed Gettysburg, where the regiment lost nearly one-half its force in killed and casualties; at Mine Run, the Wilderness, Po River, Spottsylvania, Cold Harbor, Petersburg, Deep Bottom, and at Reams' Station, the latter part of August, 1864.

The offices and men whose term did not expire with that of their regiment in December, 1864, were consolidated into a battalion under the command of Major James Fleming (of North End, Boston), and at the close of hostilities were mustered out with the remnant of the Irish brigade. The originals were ordered to Boston, December 20, to be mustered out, and numbered only twenty-one enlisted men and one officer, Col. Cartwright. No better close can be made to this article than to quote from "Conyngham's Concise History," printed in 1867, the record of this famous Irish-American regiment:--

"The aggregate number joined for duty since the organization was about 1,703; the list of killed and casualties numbered 1,133, a fearfully heavy proportion. During the Wilderness campaign, but one officer escaped unhurt in the fearful havoc. Who shall say, in view of this record of the devotion of Irishmen to the cause of freedom in this their adopted country, that they are not entitled to the sympathy, aid and support of this nation, in the endeavor to free their own beloved, down-trodden land?"

America should never forget it.

STUDENT.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] The scope of this article does not admit of much extension on account of the great demand on the space of the MAGAZINE, but inasmuch as Col. Byrnes was the most conspicuous officer of any who had to do with this gallant regiment, a few words concerning his personal career must seem appropriate. Richard Byrnes had served fifteen years in the regular army, reaching the commission of first lieutenant in the cavalry, when he was appointed to the command of the Twenty-Eighth Massachusetts Volunteers. He was assigned to it by orders in October, 1862. He perfected its discipline with soldierly skill, led it in battle with the valor of a true Irish-American hero, and commanded the respect and admiration of his troops. While in command of the Irish brigade at the battle of Cold Harbor, June 3, 1864, he was mortally wounded and died at Washington, June 12. His wife soothed his dying moments. He was interred with due military honors in a cemetery near his home in Jersey City. The likeness of Col. Byrnes, published in the March number of this MAGAZINE, is pronounced a most excellent one. The copy was procured from Col. Jeremiah W. Coveney, of Cambridge, who served with distinction and honor in the Faugh-a-Ballaghs with the regular army hero.

Drunkenness in Old Times.

The offence of drunkenness was a source of great perplexity to the ancients, who tried every possible way of dealing with it. If none succeeded, it was probably because they did not begin early enough by intercepting some of the ways and means by which the insidious vice is incited and propagated. Severe treatment was often tried to little effect. The Locrians, under Zaleucus, made it a capital offence to drink wine if it was not mixed with water; even an invalid was not exempted from punishment, unless by the order of a physician. Pittacus, of Mitylene, made a law that he who when drunk, committed any offence, would suffer double the punishment which he would do if sober; and Plato, Aristotle and Plutarch applauded this as the height of wisdom. The Roman censors could expel a Senator for being drunk and take away his horse; Mahomet ordered drunkards to be bastinadoed with eighty blows. Other nations thought of limiting the quantity to be drunk at one time or at one sitting. The Egyptians put some limit, though what is not stated. The Spartans, also had some limit. The Arabians fixed the quantity at twelve glasses a man; but the size of the glass was, unfortunately, not clearly defined by the historians. The Anglo-Saxons went no further than to order silver nails to be fixed on the side of the drinking cups, so that each might know the proper measure. And it is said that this was done by King Edgar after noticing the drunken habits of the Danes. Lycurgus, of Thrace, went to the root of the matter by ordering the vines to be cut down. His conduct was imitated in 704 by Terbulus of Bulgaria. The Suevi prohibited wine to be imported. And the Spartans tried to turn the vice into contempt by systematically making their slaves drunk once a year to show their children how foolish and contemptible men looked in that state. Drunkenness was deemed much more vicious in some classes of persons than in others. The ancient Indians held it lawful to kill a king when he was drunk. The Athenians made it a capital offence for a magistrate to be drunk, and Charlemagne imitated this by a law that judges on the bench and pleaders should do their business fasting. The Carthagenians prohibited magistrates, governors, soldiers and servants, from any drinking. The Scots, in the second century, made it a capital offence for magistrates to be drunk: and Constantine II. of Scotland, 1761, extended a like punishment to young people. Again, some laws have absolutely prohibited wine from being drunk by women; the Massillians so decreed. The Romans did the same, and extended the prohibition to young men under thirty. And the husband and the wife's relations could scourge the wife for offending, and the husband himself might scourge her to death.

The Paschal Candle.

From the French of Rev. Michael Romanet, Augustinian, by Th. Xr. K.

From Septuagesima to Holy Saturday, everything in the liturgy breathes a profound sadness. During those seventy days, like the captives of Babylon, the sacred spouse clad in mourning garments, no longer sings her glad canticles; she, too, has hung her harp on the willows beside the brook. The song of the angels is heard no more at Mass except on the festivals of the saints, instead of that loud cry of gladness, the divine _Alleluia_, there is naught but a severe and _dragging_ melody; and, on Sunday, the night office loses its magnificent Ambrosian hymn.

The closer the day of her spouse's death approaches, the deeper the Church is plunged in grief.

On Good Friday, violet does not suffice for her moaning: she covers herself with vestments of black.

But, behold, suddenly, on Saturday morning, while the Christ is still in the tomb, she seems to forget her mourning. The aspect of grief of the eve is gone. See the deacon after the blessing of the new fire. He comes forward, wearing the white dalmatic, the garb of joy, with a triangular candle in his hand, the image of the Trinity, and sings three times, "Lumen Christi"--a triple proclamation of the divinity of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost. He then goes towards the _Paschal Candle_.

Why, then, these emblems of joy in presence of this torch? What are the memories it brings to the heart of the Spouse thus to make gladness take the place of grief? Let us ask the author of the blessing of the Paschal Candle, St. Ambrose, for the explanation of this mysterious symbol. Let us question, too, the faith of the Middle Ages. Let us listen to the symbolic language so familiar to our fathers, and with which we are so little acquainted. Perhaps, even, we have sometimes surprised a smile on our lips at the sight of that candle, and of certain other exterior practices of worship, whose significance we did not understand; for, in our days, how great, generally, is the ignorance of the faithful in the matter of liturgy and symbolism. Now, we see how magnificent is the meaning of that ceremony of the blessing of the Paschal Candle which was extended by St. Zozimus in the middle of the fifth century to the other churches of the city of Rome, although baptism was conferred only at the baptistery of Lutran, and later on by other popes to all the churches, even to those which have no baptismal fonts: so holy and salutary did the sovereign pontiffs consider the impressions which this great rite should produce.

In this candle, superior in weight and in size to the candles which are generally lighted on other solemnities, in this unique candle, the princes of liturgy show us the image of Jesus Christ, a precious symbol which is impressed on it by the virtue of the blessing.

This blessing is reserved for the deacon. To him belongs this prerogative when the priest, and even when the bishop is present. This is because the deacon represents on this occasion the holy women, who, notwithstanding the inferiority of their sex, were commissioned by the Saviour to announce His resurrection to His Apostles, and that, by a disposition of Providence, woman, in the first days of the world, sent by the demon to man, brought him death; woman was to be sent by the risen Christ to man to proclaim life to him. The Apostles were still in tears, when, in transports of gladness, Mary Magdalene and her companions announced to them the mystery of the resurrection. The priest and the bishop, too, still wear the color of mourning, when, clothed in white, the deacon freely and loudly chants the beautiful prayers of the blessing, and is thus the herald of the resurrection's joys.

In consequence of the deacon's blessing, the candle then becomes the symbol of Christ. "Before it is lighted," says Dom Gueranger, summing up on this point the interpretations of the olden liturgists, "its type is in the pillar of cloud which covered the departure of the Hebrews as they went forth from Egypt; under this first form, it is a figure of Christ in the tomb, inanimate, lifeless. When it will have received the flame, we shall see in it the pillar of fire which gave light to the holy people's feet, and also the figure of Christ, all radiant with the splendors of His resurrection."

This majestic symbolism is demonstrated by the prayers of the blessing. And first those cries of gladness, those outbursts of joy, and that lavishness of praise on the part of the deacon, as he stands before that waxen pillar, we now understand, knowing that _He_ whom the candle represents, the Divine Light, is the one to whom they are addressed.

The deacon begins with a lyric exordium. Let those who understand Latin read in the text itself that magnificent prayer of the _Exultet_; the translation cannot entirely reproduce its beauties:

"Let now the heavenly troop of angels rejoice; let the divine mysteries be joyfully celebrated, and let the sacred trumpet proclaim the victory of so great a king. Let the earth rejoice, illumined with such resplendent rays, and let the whole world feel that the darkness is driven from it by the splendor of the Eternal King. Let the church, our mother, also rejoice, being adorned by the rays of so great a light, and let this temple resound with the joyful acclamations of the people. Wherefore, most beloved brethren, who are now present at the admirable brightness of this holy light, I beseech you to invoke with me the mercy of the Almighty God. That He, who hath been pleased without merit of mine, to admit me into the number of the Levites will, by an infusion of His light upon me enable me to celebrate worthily the praise of this taper."

No, this candle would not merit as much praise if it did not represent the Christ. The Son alone, with the Father and the Holy Ghost, is deserving of praise.

"It is truly meet and just to proclaim with all the affections of our heart and soul, and with the sound of our voice, the invisible God the Father Almighty, and His only-begotten Son, our Lord Jesus Christ, who paid for us to His eternal Father the debt of Adam, and by His own blood cancelled the guilt contracted by original sin."

As though to give a reason for his songs of glory, the deacon hastens to proclaim aloud the coming of Easter: "For this is the Paschal solemnity in which the true Lamb is slain, by whose blood the doors of the faithful are consecrated." The Hebrews celebrated the ancient Pasch at night. Standing, with loins girded and staves in their hands, they awaited the passing of the Lord. This expectation at night the faithful renew on Holy Saturday. St. Jerome tells us in fact that it was an Apostolic custom maintained by the Christians of his day to remain united in prayer until midnight, awaiting the coming of Christ. But another mystery is included in that night, and, in its mute language, the candle unites with the deacon in reminding us that in the Old Testament there was another night and another pillar. The Lord, it is said in Exodus, went before the sons of Israel, when they went forth from Egypt, by day in a pillar of cloud, to show them the way, and during the night in a pillar of fire, to be their guide both day and night. Now, this pillar of cloud like the pillar of wax still unlighted, is the humanity of Christ, the cloud in which Divine wisdom has placed its throne: _thronus meus_ in _columna nubis_ (Eccl. xxiv.). But this candle will soon be lighted by contact with the new fire, as the humanity of Jesus Christ will recover life by the approach of the fire of the Divinity. Then, indeed, is this a night of exultation for the Church when she sees coming to her, triumphant over death, the Divine Spouse whom she bewailed but recently, buried in the darkness of the tomb. So with what complacency does not the deacon celebrate this thousand-fold happy night. He hails it as the dawn of the glorious mystery of the Resurrection:

"This is the night in which Thou formerly broughtest forth our forefathers, the children of Israel, out of Egypt, leading them dry-foot through the Red Sea. This, then, is the night which dissipated the darkness of sin by the light of the pillar. This is the night which now delivers all over the world those that believe in Christ from the vices of the world and the darkness of sin, restores them to grace, and clothes them with sanctity." This is the night in which Christ broke the chains of death, and ascended conqueror from hell. Naught would it have profited us to be born, if we were not redeemed.

"O how admirable is Thy goodness towards us! O how inestimable is Thy excess of love! To redeem the slave, Thou hast given up the Son. O truly necessary sin of Adam, which the death of Christ has blotted out! O happy fault that merited such and so great a Redeemer!

"O truly blessed night! which alone deserved to know the time and hour when Christ rose again from hell. This is the night of which it is written: And the night shall be as light as day; and the night shineth upon me in my pleasures. Therefore the sanctification of this night blots out crimes, washes away sins, and restores innocence to the fallen, and joy to the sorrowful. It banishes enmities, produces concord, and humbles empires."

The deacon then fixes in the candle, in the form of a cross, the five grains of incense which were previously blessed at the same time as the new fire, a visible image of the five wounds made in the flesh of the Crucified. Liturgists also show us in this incense the perfumes and spices which Mary Magdalene, Mary, the mother of James, and Salome bought to embalm Jesus (St. Mark xvi. 1).

"Receive, O holy Father, receive on this night the evening sacrifice which Thy holy Church, by the hands of her ministers, presents to Thee, in this solemn oblation of this wax candle, made out of the labor of bees."

The Passion was truly the evening sacrifice, according to David's prophetic word, _Elevatio manuum mearum sacrificium vespertinum_ (Ps. cxl. 3), because it was in the evening of the world, as at the decline of the day, that the Divine Victim expired, uttering a loud cry to heaven, after having declared that all was consummated!

It was in the evening, too, _ad auram post meridiem_ (Gen. iii. 8), at the hour when a gentle wind arises, when through the earthly paradise resounded the voice of the Lord: "Adam, where art thou?" At the very hour when He found Adam guilty of disobedience, four thousand years afterwards the Father called His Son to Him and found the new Adam obedient, and obedient even to the death of the cross.

"_Sed jam nunc columnae hujus praeconia novimus_," the deacon continues to sing. "And now we know the excellence of this pillar, which the sparkling fire lights for the honor of God."

The sacred minister then lights the Paschal Candle. He lights it with the fire which was recently struck from the stone, that is, from Christ, the Corner-Stone who, beaten by the rods of the scourging, produced in us the divine spark of love pre-eminent of the Holy Ghost. This is the fire which the Son came to bring upon the earth with the desire to see it enkindle the world. Lighted and fed by the wood of the cross, its divine flame is fanned by the breath of the Holy Ghost. This new fire is also the new doctrine of the Saviour, the _mandatum novum_ of which St. John speaks.

The candle thus lighted is thenceforth the figure of the risen Saviour, as we have said. The humanity of Christ lay, too, extinguished in the shades of death; but, behold, beneath the burning breath of the divinity, it has suddenly recovered life, and Jesus emerges from the night of the tomb all resplendent with light.

The image of the Son is now revealed to us more completely in the symbolism of the candle. According to the interpretations of the liturgists, the three elements of the candle are not without meaning. The wax formed from the juice of the flowers by the bees, which antiquity always regarded as the type of virginity, signifies the virginal flesh of the Incarnate Word. Mary, without ceasing to be a virgin, Mary, the industrious bee, says the Abbot Rupert, has brought us forth a God in the flesh, like honey in wax: _Maria nobis puerum in carne quasi mel in cera protulit_.[2] St. Anselm teaches us to behold in the wick, which is in the inside of the candle, the soul of Jesus Christ, and His Divinity in the light which burns in the upper portion.

If the candle is the image of the Word made flesh, it was with reason that on it was inscribed the current year counting from the Incarnation. This inscription, of which the ancient liturgists tell, indicates that Christ is like the ancient year, the great year, the year full of days, of which the twelve apostles are the months; the elect, the days; and the neophytes, the hours. We see in the Abbot Rupert that this inscription was engraved in the wax itself in the form of a cross, and Durand of Mende speaks of a tablet which was fastened against the candle as Pilate's inscription was placed on the cross: _Jesus Nazarenus Rex Judaeorum_.

The Paschal Candle will serve to light the neophytes to the holy waters of baptism, as the pillar of fire guided the Hebrews on their going-forth from Egypt through the waters of the Red Sea to the Promised Land; a twofold light, which is for us the emblem of "that light which enlighteneth every man coming into this world," of Him who is the way, the truth, and the life, and who, after having delivered them from the bondage of Satan, after having led them through the waters of baptism, guides His people to the land of the living, the true Promised Land.

An ancient author remarks that it was not at the first or at the second stopping-place of the Hebrews, but at the third, that the pillar went before them, and he applies this triple encampment of Ramatha, Segor, and Ethan to the three days of the Passion, the sepulture, and the resurrection. Ramatha (_commotio tineae_) well represents the day of the Passion, when the Jews, after having torn the flesh of Jesus, like the moth, attack His garments, His seamless tunic, endeavoring to rend the unity of the Church. But death was the road by which He passed from Ramatha to Segor (_tabernaculum_), that is, into the tent of the tomb. The tent is for the soldier: like an indomitable warrior, Christ in the tomb despoils His vanquished foe. Finally, the day of the resurrection was the day of arrival in Ethan (_firmum vel signa ejus_), because, thenceforth, death has no sting for Him, _mors ultra non dominabitur illi_, and also because it was as a sign for the Apostles when He appeared to them radiant after the night of the tomb, illumining them like the pillar of fire.

But let us return to the deacon's prayers. He thus continues the chant which he had broken off to light the candle:--

"This fire, though now divided, suffers no loss from the communication of its light, because it is fed by the melted wax, produced by the bee, to make this precious taper."

Then the lamps hanging in the church are lighted. This lighting takes place only some time after that of the Paschal Candle, because the knowledge of the resurrection was diffused only successively. Finally, the deacon concludes the blessing in these words:

"O truly blessed light! which plundered the Egyptians and enriched the Hebrews. A night in which heaven is united to earth, and the Divine to the human! We beseech Thee, therefore, O Lord, let this candle, consecrated to the honor of Thy name, continue burning to dissipate the darkness of this night, and, being accepted as a sweet odor, be united with the celestial lights. Let the morning-star find it burning. That Morning-star, I mean, which never sets; which, being returned from hell, shone with brightness on mankind."

By the mouth of the deacon, therefore, the Church praises in the Paschal Candle the Christ-light. Borne before the catechumens, this candle denotes that it is by Christ Jesus their darkness is dispelled. So, too, it is from the divine torch of His doctrine that we all must get light. We are invited to it by that other ceremony in use in certain churches, according to the testimony of many ancient liturgists. Durand of Mende and the Abbot Rupert tell us that a second candle was lighted from the Paschal Candle, and from it all the others were lighted. Christ is the light above all others; but He projects His rays upon the Apostles to reflect from them upon the whole Church. St. Augustine tells us of that twofold lighting of the Church by Christ and the Apostles when he explains to Januarius why the faithful should receive communion fasting, although the Apostles received after the Last Supper or evening meal: _Namque Salvator, quo vehementius commendarit mysterii illius altitudinem, ultimum hoc infigeri voluit cordibus et memoriae discipulorum a quibus ad passionem digressurus erat; et ideo non praecipit quo deinceps ordine sumeretur, ut apostoli per quos ecclesias dispositurus erat servarent hunc locum_. The Saviour, the more to fill the minds and hearts of His disciples with the greatness of this sacrament, would have it the last act which he was to perform with them before separating from them for His Passion. He Himself did not arrange the order thenceforth to be followed in the reception of that sacrament. Why? _In order to leave that question to the Apostles._ Hence he calls them the light of the world, as He calls Himself: _Ego sum lux mundi. Vos estis lux mundi_.

Finally to the right and the left of these two candles were sometimes placed two others lighted from the Paschal Candle. Let us here admire the saints of the Old and the New Testament. They all, in fact, received the divine irradiations of the Sun of Justice, the former through the doctrine of the Prophets, the latter through that of the Apostles.

Such is the significance of the blessing of the Paschal Candle, in which the Church delights to display all the pomp of her inspired language! What a lesson in this ceremony! a lesson at which some, perhaps, will be greatly astonished, because they do not know that the ceremonies of the liturgy are a continual preaching.

_Jam columnae hujus praeconia novimus_, yes, we now know what that pillar of wax, itself the image of the pillar of old, denotes: it is Jesus Christ, Jesus Christ everywhere. He is the true pillar, a pillar of cloud when, through the Holy Ghost, He protects us with His shadow against the devouring fire of the passions, and, at the same time, a pillar of fire, because His doctrine is the light which enlightens us through the darkness of the light of this world.

Now, for the true Catholic, Jesus Christ lives in the Roman Pontiff. Our Holy Father the Pope is the depositary of the light of truth. Never must we lose sight of that bright beacon; but above all in the hour of storm, when only fitful gleams are seen, it is for every Catholic a strict duty to turn towards Him, under penalty of sinking in the darkness without being able to find the haven.

This lesson, especially in this Paschal time, may be applied to all, although in degrees proportioned to the condition of each. And who has not more or less need of approaching God? Woe to him who will not have the beneficent shadows and the salutary lights of the Christ! he will perish in his infirmity. Thinking that he can see far from the light, he will remain in darkness, while by drawing nigh to Him the blind will recover sight. _Cur non ergo et nobis Christus columna?_ let us say with St. Augustine, _Quia et rectus et firmus, et fulciens infirmitatem nostram per noctem lucens, et per diem non lucens, et ut qui non vident videant, et qui vident caecci fiant!_ (S. Aug., in libro contra Faustum, xii.)

[This will be followed by the translation of an article on
the Agnus Dei, made from the wax of the Paschal Candle.]

* * * * *

Mgr. Ridel, the holy missionary bishop of Corea, lately gone to receive the reward of long privation and cruel sufferings endured for the faith, was indebted to his pious mother for his vocation as a missionary. One day, whilst he was yet a mere child playing at her knee, he saw on the table a beautiful blue book,--a volume of the "Annals of the Propagation of the Faith."--"Mamma," said the child, "are there any stories in that book?"--"Yes, my child: it is full of stories about missionaries."--"What are missionaries, mamma?"--"Missionaries are priests who go to far-off countries, amongst savage races, to teach them how to save their souls."--"Then I am going to be a missionary, too, and tell them how to get to heaven with us."

FOOTNOTE:

[2] _Ruperti abbatis, Duitiensis, de divinis officiis._ (L. C. VI., c. 29.)

Our New Cardinal.

The _Catholic Review_:--The Archbishop of New York, on Wednesday morning, February 10th, received a cablegram from Rome, announcing that most Rev. James Gibbons, Archbishop of Baltimore, would be created Cardinal at the next Consistory. The _biglietto_, or official letter, from the Cardinal Secretary of State announcing the creation of his Eminence, was mailed to him on February 8th. This cablegram, although not official, is authentic. It is not unexpected. It certainly is no surprise to those who were privileged to hear the graceful address in which the senior of the American hierarchy, the venerable Archbishop Kenrick, of St. Louis, thanked Archbishop Gibbons for the courtesy, patience and industry with which, as Apostolic-Delegate, he conducted and brought to a close the affairs of the Plenary Council at Baltimore. In chosen and significant words, such as one in Archbishop Kenrick's position might use in anticipating an expected act of the Supreme Pontiff, he predicted the future and increased honors of the Apostolic-Delegate, and in such a way as to indicate that they would be most grateful to his brothers and associates. Nor are they less a matter of pride and congratulation to the entire body of the faithful. No doubt we are all anxious to see many of the other great cities of America honored, as are smaller and less vigorous dioceses in Europe; and with increasing years, most likely these honors will come. No doubt the captious are sometimes found to say that Baltimore, first in years, is very far behind in works, in the great race of Catholic American progress. But there has never been found one so unjust as to deny to the gentle, zealous and apostolic Archbishop of Baltimore all the virtues that bring honor to the chief priesthood of the Church. One little work of his, "The Faith of Our Fathers," will perpetuate his apostolate as long as Protestantism exists. His has been indeed a democratic promotion. From the humblest and least important of the missionary vicariates of the Church in America, he has steadily moved onward, growing with every step in mental, moral and ecclesiastical grandeur, until he stood at the head of the episcopate of America. His stepping-stone was, always and only, his unquestionable merit and services. Can any sect show as fair a field for merit as the new Cardinal's career proves is to be found in the Church of Christ? It opens and keeps open to intellect and virtue the path to its highest honors. The transcendent honor of the Roman Cardinalate, which thus comes once more to an American Archbishop, will be prized by his Eminence's countrymen of all religious faiths, as giving them a share in the glories of a Council that has never been more illustrious than in those days, when Leo XIII. has opened its doors to the first and leading minds of the Universal Church, without consideration of distance, race or continent.

His Birth, Education, etc.

Most Reverend James Gibbons was born in Baltimore, in 1836. His parents were Irish, and, when a boy, he was taken to Ireland, where he remained several years. At the age of seventeen he returned to America, and soon after entered St. Charles' College, near Ellicott City, Md., to commence his studies for the priesthood. Here he remained four years, and was then transferred to St. Mary's Seminary, Baltimore, to pursue the study of theology and philosophy. He was ordained in 1860, his first mission being the obscure parish of St. Bridget's, Baltimore. Archbishop Spalding soon discovered his merits, and he transferred him to the Cathedral and made him his secretary. His rise was rapid and brilliant. In 1868 he was made Vicar Apostolic of North Carolina, with the rank of bishop, and in a few years he was elected to the See of Richmond. When Archbishop Bayley died, in 1875, Right Rev. Dr. Gibbons was appointed his successor in the See of Baltimore. Thus, at the early age of forty he had attained the highest ecclesiastical position in the United States, for Baltimore is the oldest, and, therefore, the primary American See. To it belongs the highest dignity in the American Catholic Church. The archbishops of Baltimore have always been men of distinguished ability. The immediate predecessor of Archbishop Gibbons was James Roosevelt Bayley, a member of a prominent New York family. He was the nephew of Mother Seton, the founder of the Order of Sisters of Charity in the United States. His predecessor was the learned Spalding, whose elegant voice was conspicuous in the great Council of the Vatican.

Some Incidents of His Life.

While Archbishop Gibbons presided over the small country parish of Elkridge, near Baltimore, an incident occurred which gave him a large measure of local fame. Small-pox broke out in the village, and a general exodus immediately followed. An old negro man at the point of death was deserted by his family, who left him neither food nor medicines. Fr. Gibbons heard of the case, hastened to the bedside of the dying man and remained with him to the last. Nor was this all. No one could be procured to carry the corpse to the grave. Fr. Gibbons, seeing no other alternative, determined to act as undertaker as well as minister; so, having obtained a coffin, he placed the body therein, dragged it as well as he could to the grave, performed the funeral rites and buried it. His career as vicar of North Carolina was filled with occurrences equally as noteworthy, but of a humorous rather than pathetic nature. He still talks with zest of his all-day rides on horseback through the North Carolina pines; of nights spent in the flea-covered log cabins of the negroes, whose best accommodations consisted of a corn-husk bed, meals spread out on the floor and gourds for drinking cups; of savory dinners of fat bacon and hoe cakes, and of other accompaniments of missionary life among the negroes of that region.

There is one incident in the primate's life which he seldom touches on, but which caused immense amusement at the time it occurred. While Bishop of Richmond, he was the defendant in a suit relating to some church property. When he was called to the witness stand, the plaintiff's lawyer, a distinguished legal luminary, who still shines in Richmond, after vain endeavors to involve the witness in contradictions, struck on a plan which he thought would annoy the bishop. He thereupon questioned Mr. Gibbons' right to the title of bishop of Richmond, and called on him to prove his claim to the office. The defendant's lawyer, of course, objected to this as irrelevant; but the bishop, with a quiet smile, said he would comply with the request if allowed a half-hour to produce the necessary papers. This was allowed. The bishop left the court room and returned in twenty minutes with a document which he proceeded to read with great solemnity, all the more solemn as the paper was all in Latin. The plaintiff's lawyer pretended to take notes industriously, bowing his head once in a while as if in acquiescence, and seeming perfectly convinced at the end. When the reading was finished, he announced that the Papal Bulls just read were entirely satisfactory, at the same time apologizing for his expressed doubts. The next day it leaked out that the bishop, unable to find the Papal Bulls at his residence, had brought to court and read a Latin essay on Pope Leo the Great, written by one of the ecclesiastical students, and forwarded by the president of the college as a specimen of the young man's skill in Latin composition. That smart lawyer has not heard the last of it yet.

As an Author and Orator.

Archbishop Gibbons is the author of one volume, "The Faith of Our Fathers," which has met with a larger sale than any Catholic book published in America. More than one hundred thousand copies have been sold since its publication in 1877. The work is made up chiefly of simple sermons on the doctrines of Catholicity, delivered while on the mission in North Carolina.

As a pulpit orator, the primate has many superiors in the hierarchy. He has neither an impressive presence nor a good voice. He seldom attempts elaborate discourses. He is at his best in simple appeals to the heart, and to this fact is due his missionary success. Some of his fellow-bishops may have greater power to convince the intellect, but none can touch the feelings more deeply.

The Irish as Conspirators.

In a recent issue of the _Nineteenth Century_, a magazine published in London, is an article by Mr. Arnold Forster, in which the following statement was used:

"Irishmen were at the bottom of the Mollie Maguire conspiracy in Pennsylvania; Irishmen plotted against the officials and the Chinese in San Francisco; the Tammany ring was largely supported by Irish citizens, and even the Boston police were tampered with by Irish politicians of that city." To controvert this view, and particularly the reflection upon the Boston police, the _Republic_ newspaper of Boston sent a circular letter to a number of prominent men, requesting such denials as they might see fit to furnish. Governor Robinson writes: "I have already taken occasion to contradict emphatically an assertion said to have been recently made in England that the act to establish a board of police for the city of Boston, passed by the legislature of Massachusetts in 1885, was necessitated by the threatening and disorderly character and conduct of the Irish people in Boston. In all the conferences, arguments and declarations about that act, before its introduction, or while it was under consideration in the legislature, no intimation of that kind ever reached me, and I do not believe it to be true. Nor is there, in my opinion, any more foundation for the statement to which you call my attention. Sharp political controversies arise; but happily no question of race or nationality aggravates the differences among our people upon public matters."

Charles A. Dana, editor of _New York Sun_, says: "I cannot now recall the name of a single citizen of Irish birth who was known as a supporter of the Tammany ring; and it is notorious that the head of it, the late William M. Tweed, was a full-blooded American. At the same time, one of the most conspicuous of its adversaries, the late Charles O'Conor, though born in this country, was thoroughly Irish in heart and sympathy. Another distinguished enemy of Mr. Tweed's ring was his successor as the leader of Tammany Hall, the present Mr. John Kelly, a man of Irish descent, and a more determined foe of every kind of corruption and of public dishonesty has never lived."

Gen. Butler thus replies: "I can certainly give you the most thorough denial of the slanders upon the Irishmen by the article of the _Nineteenth Century_. I have known the Irish-Americans intimately ever since my boyhood, and they are as good, loyal people as any in the world, and as soldiers among the very best."

Congressman Curtin, of Pennsylvania, speaks relative to the Mollie Maguire conspiracy as follows: "I can speak relative to the Mollie Maguire conspiracy in Pennsylvania. Some of the men engaged in it were Irishmen; some were not. The race to which the criminals belonged had nothing to do with the crime or its punishment; nor should the fact of the existence of the Mollie Maguire conspiracy, which was a crime perpetrated by citizens of Pennsylvania against the good order of that Commonwealth and punished by its officers, have any effect on the aspirations of the Irish people, who were innocent of participation in it, and who had no sympathy with it."

Ex-Mayor Palmer, of Boston, thus defends our police force: "Mr. Forster accuses the Boston police of being corrupted by Irish politicians. It is sufficient to say of this that no Bostonian charges it, or believes it. Boston is proud of her police force, and boasts of it too strongly and too frequently, our neighbors think, for good taste. But whatever may be thought of our egotism in this respect, it is well known and understood by our sister cities that Boston claims to have the best police force in the world. The Irish-American in Boston is a loyal citizen, proud of the city, proud of the State, and proud of the whole country; and his heart's desire and prayer to God is, that his motherland may become as free and prosperous and happy as these United States. The trouble with Mr. Forster, as he shows himself in the _Nineteenth Century_, is that Parnell is on top, and Forster is afraid he will stay there. Gladstone wants to give Ireland land reform and home government. Herein he believes is true statesmanship. In this way he knows that every interest of the empire, even its integrity, would be best subserved. But the Queen and the Tories oppose him and may defeat him. Let us hope that the hypocritical lament of Arnold Forster in the _Nineteenth Century_ is the last wail of a lost cause. Or will he tell us next that ten thousand howling Englishmen in Trafalgar Square is another Irish conspiracy?"

Congressman Lovering writes: "The wholesale charges against Irishmen in America will fall flat here as an exaggeration, and a distortion of facts, in a vain attempt to charge against the Irish race the misdoings of individuals, who may have chanced to have been Irishmen, and the effort is entitled to all the contempt it deserves."

Police Commissioner Osborne says: "Knowing very little about the force before I became a member of the board of police, I can only speak of the time during service, and will say most emphatically that no interference, or tampering, with our force by politicians of _any_ nationality has come to my knowledge. And from what I have seen and know I firmly believe that our force is equal to, if not superior to, the police force in any city in the United States." To which Chairman Whiting of the board adds: "I am happy to say that I have no knowledge whatever of any tampering with the Boston police, as stated in said clipping or otherwise."