Chapter M: D'Alzon then took me to a house of priests in the Rue de la (3)

* * * From Milan we went to Desenzano, to begin an expedition to see a very great wonder in the Tyrol, of which I must give you an account. We went by the Poste to Desenzano, the southern point of the lake of Garda, and from thence steamed all up that most beautiful sheet of water to Riva. From Riva we took a ricketty machine, called by courtesy the Post, to Roveredo, and on hither to Trent. First I must tell you, we had an introduction to Manzoni at Milan from a friend in Paris; and his son-in-law had just returned from seeing one of the two persons who were the object of our present pilgrimage--the Addolorata and the Estatica, whose case was set forth, some few years ago (about three or four), by Lord Shrewsbury. The first of these has received the stigmata of the Passion, from which blood issues every Friday--the crown of thorns, the nail-holes in the hands and feet, and the wound in the left side; and the second lives in a continual trance. We met a lady in Paris, a Roman Catholic, who had seen them, and spoke much about both, but not very satisfactorily to our minds. We determined accordingly, if possible, to visit them ourselves, and received full instruction from Signor Stephano Stampa at Milan as to the route and all other needful circumstances. Well, at Trent we went to the bishop; for one of these persons, Maria Mörl, the Estatica, lives in a convent, and may not be seen without a letter from the bishop, which we hardly expected would be granted to any persons not Romans. However, we wrote _Artium Magister_, Oxford, upon our cards, and sent them in. He received us very politely, granted at once the petition for a letter, begged us, if possible, to call on him and give him our opinion on the cases in returning; "for," said he, "we cannot pronounce about either case, especially the Estatica, while they live, and the end is uncertain;" and he further thought every one who had the opportunity should make an unfettered judgment for themselves. At the conclusion of the interview he gave us his blessing, and by noon we were on our way in an omnibus to Neumarkt, up the valley of the Adige; grand castellated rocks overgrown with brushwood, some 12 or 1700 feet, on either side of this rapid river. Neumarkt is a stupid little place; and we were considerably imposed upon by the worthies there, who might have put us at once in the way to our point. Next morning, Thursday, 29., we took a carriage to Cavalese, a small town in the mountains, a post and a half distant; and after breakfast there, we found out Signor Yoris, a medico, to whom Signor S. Stampa had given us a letter of introduction. He was very civil, and offered to accompany us to the village of the Addolorata, whose name is Domenica Lazzari. This place is called Capriana, and we walked thither in something less than four hours, a distance (I supposed) of about nine or ten miles. This was across a range of hills, and up the valley of a tributary to the Adige: the hills covered with forests of spruce and pine, and very beautiful. We got to Capriana about 5 P.M.; and I will give you an abridgment of notes I wrote that evening for the rest of the account. Reached Capriana at five, turned to the right to the house--almost the outside of all, the meanest we saw--and after some minutes the sister arrived and let us in. The room at first dark, too dark to see more than the figure contracted in the bed, and the face dark with blood as low as the bottom of the nose, and a little lower on each side. The medico drew aside the curtain, and we saw plainly the stigmata on the back of the hand, and the marks round the forehead in a straight line, about an inch below the hair in the middle. The marks are about a quarter of an inch apart in an even row as far as the hair, and for three or four marks under it. The medico told me they go all round. There were other marks below the first down to the eyebrows, but whether so regular as the first I could not tell for the quantity of blood clotted and dried on the face. The blood has flowed straight towards the bottom of the face, and not trickled sideways to the bed. There has been a good deal this week. The hands, which are much wasted, are clasped continually on the top of the bed clothes, and are marked a little above the centre with the stigmata (the nail holes); the scar extends half or three quarters of an inch all round, slightly red. The wound is cicatrised with a dark spot of dried blood in the centre. Inside (as well as I could see, the hands being clasped,) the left palm seems to have a long white wound right into the flesh, which is covered all round with dried blood. That on the face is so dark and continual, that, from the holes of the _spicæ_ (thorn marks) to the nose, it is just like a dark mask. Her breast is curved up to a close convex, and the legs drawn up till almost doubled from convulsions. The medico says she was once as tall as I am. Twelve or thirteen years since she has eaten anything but the Blessed Sacrament, and that in the most minute portions possible.

The following are the correct dates:--

10th April, 1834. Nothing eaten since. 10th January, 1834. Stigmata, hands, feet and side. 31st January, 1834. Crown of thorns.

An altar is in the room, at which the bishop allows mass to be celebrated once or twice every week, according to the convenience of the priest, and on saints' days.

We spoke of the bishop. She was much interested also in all that the doctor said. He kept fanning her with a large feather fan: her only relief. She suffers most on Thursdays. The issue of blood Fridays unaccompanied with pain: rather a relief. A woman and boy came to see her. Cheerful when _freer_ from pain (she always suffers). Was told we were English. Looks very intently at one. Light blue or blue gray eyes; hair fine,--a cold brown. Face awfully wasted. Her smile sweet. Says, when most in pain, "Dio mio, mio Dio!" Friday morning, at five, we were again with her. She was in an insensible state: waking up at intervals. The hands still clasped, but the head shaking, and her teeth chattering. The blood was bright red and fresh (flowing) from all the upper row of holes and the rest, though clotted below generally, for she suffers great heat of fever. The wounds of the hands were open and ran, but outside (on the surface) the blood had run down the back of the hand in a broad stream to a little below the wrist, and there stopped; one small current had trickled across to the bottom of the hand. It was clotted. I looked as close as I could by stooping to the inside of the left hand. My impression was of an open wound, much deeper; long, with lips standing out upon the upper side; much blood had run over the inside of her hand: it ran to the wrist and all over the palms. Her teeth whole, though the two centre much apart. Her face, above and below the blood, was not livid, but of a good complexion. Her voice when she spoke was much stronger than yesterday. She saw me trying to draw the outline of her face, and said, she supposed a portrait would appear of her. We commended ourselves and England to her prayers. All English (she said) who had seen her had done the same. She commended herself by us to the Bishop's blessing and intercession with "Il vescovo di tutti," (something she said quite indistinct). This is the substance of my notes written on the spot. I must add to it, that every Friday since the date above, and only on Friday, the wounds have bled; that the doctor told us he had seen her feet a hundred times, which are marked like the hands, but the blood runs _up_ towards the toes; as it does up the nose, which we saw. Her side wound has been seen by several women, her sister among others, whom we talked much to. She was perfectly simple, wanted no money, and treated her sister more as an invalid than anything else. The Dr. Yoris's presence was, I think, a very great advantage to us. It put all reserve out of the question, if any would otherwise have been observable, and enabled us to see her more as she always is, and no doubt to stay longer, to draw the curtain aside, &c. My impression was of great awe at the sight: the day Friday, and the supernatural facts of the flow of blood from a person taking no nourishment or food of any kind, the course taken by the blood,--but the sight of the dark mask of blood was what first and most painfully struck me. The simplicity, and apparent domesticity, of her way of speaking--her smiling and answering the doctor's questions--struck me next. As he said, a secular question is answered in the tone of this world, a religious one in that of the other. She seems conscious herself of nothing beyond God's chastisement for her sins; therefore she is shy of showing or speaking of herself beyond what is necessary as information to serious inquirers. The wound in her side she refused to show any man, though she said any number of women, physician's wives, if they would, might see it, for it needed no medical treatment. She does not seem conscious of being in any extraordinary or miraculous way the vehicle, as such, of Divine Grace; but she is patient, exceedingly, and strives, as she says, to do all God's will. Nothing remarkable in a religious way is recorded of her early character. "Una buona ragazza," the doctor called her, but no more; he said especially not "bigotta." Is it not a palpable evidence of our Lord's presence to us in His sufferers, to bring home the actuality of what is taught us of the spiritual things we have been born into, yet to confound spiritual pride? "Thy ways are in the sea, and Thy paths are in the great waters, and Thy footsteps are not known."

Next morning we went to Caldaro, a beautiful village about nine miles or eight from Neumarkt, and, by aid of the Bishop of Trent's letter, saw Maria Mörl, the Estatica, but were only allowed to see her for five minutes. She knelt on her bed, with her hands together under the chin: her attitude was leaning forward, and inclined to the right in such a position as I cannot keep myself in without support; nor do I think, from the overbalance of the body, it could be done naturally. Her face has much beauty, her eyes are dark and full, hair long and black, and her skin as pale as that of a dead body or a wax figure; not a muscle moved; and except a very slight oscillating motion of the body occasionally, and the breathing, there were no signs of life in her, though I saw once the eyelid quiver slightly. The friar who took us in, a Franciscan, told her to lie down; which, after a moment or two, she did; only falling back in the bed, with her legs from the knee unmoved. She gave two slight sort of groans or sighs. Her hands remained just as they were, and the eyes were fixed on the same spot. After a short visit, the friar took us out,--talking a German which we could none of us understand. When we got to the door of the house, we asked him, in Latin, if we could see her again: he answered, "Eam vidistis, eam vidistis," and left us.

We walked back to Neumarkt, and yesterday evening started in the Bolzano omnibus back to this place. Fare you well. * * * I have given you as short as I could this marvellous account.

* * * * *

J. H. POLLEN.

Venice, August 5. 1847.
MY DEAR ----.

* * * We staid at Verona one clear day: it has very interesting churches, and a noble river, the Adige, "exulting and abounding," as Byron says; and many Shakspearian associations, besides very quaint and mediæval bits of architecture. But my time is waxing short, and a greater attraction was near. So yesterday we _squudged_ ourselves into a merciless omnibus, which carried twelve insiders thirty miles in the space of six hours to the railway at Vicenza; and the said railway brought us on just in time to reach Venice by the last light of day. Very striking indeed is the approach to Venice, on a bridge two miles long over the Lagune, very striking because so appropriate to a city which is like no other. The evening was unfavourable, for it rained, which has scarcely happened to us before; notwithstanding, our excitement was great; I do not think I have felt so much curiosity about a place since I entered Rome nearly thirteen years ago, and could scarcely believe I was there. Though a great part of to-day has been rainy Venice does not disappoint me. The Doge's palace, the piazza, and piazzetta of St. Mark, and his church, are quite unique; so is the great canal, with its host of middle age palaces. We have been to-day both in the pozzi and the piombi, the ancient prisons of the republic, the former terrible for their darkness, the latter for their heat; both seldom disgorging the prisoner save to death; and what a death, at least in its circumstances, and in the case of political offenders. The cells were all cased in wood, with hardly any light; but when the criminal in politics had confessed his fault, and was condemned, he was transferred to another cell in the middle of the night, a foreign priest was admitted, received his confession, and absolved him. The priest issued from the cell, and turned to the left, the criminal to the right, and rounding a corner not a yard off, was placed on a seat, a cord passed round the neck, and strangled. Behind the seat a door opened, a gondola received his corpse (for it is just at the level of the water), carried it to the cemetery, and no one, wife or child, knew more of his destiny than this: that the invisible inquisition of state had laid its hand upon him, and that he _was not_. I said to the old guide, who had a fine Venetian head, "I suppose you do not regret not living in those times?" "But _I do_ regret it," he replied; "Venice was then a republic; there was more commerce, and life was easier; and it was just owing to her wise treatment of criminals that she maintained herself so long; and had she kept that treatment to the end, she would not have fallen: mine was a very ancient Venetian family. It is to foreigners," he added, "that I say all this; writers have greatly exaggerated about these prisons." As I stood on a spot at which hundreds of human beings, during the long course of that terrible rule, had yielded up their lives in the darkness of a gloomy passage, more fearful at least to the thought than the gaze of a furious multitude, or the rack itself, I could not agree with the old man, though I was surprised at such a flash of old Venetian spirit. That same ducal palace, which is among palaces what the great mediæval cathedrals dedicated to Notre Dame are among churches, has these dungeons below; the state reception apartments of the Doge above; and over them again those other prisons of the piombi, or leads--a somewhat strange position for the drawing-rooms of the head of a state. Italian churches are as unlike ours as two things called by the same name can well be. They are full of marbles on floor and walls, paintings, gildings, shrines, images, tapers, perpetual services, and seldom wanting at least in some worshippers. St. Mark much exceeds my expectation. It has five domes covered with mosaic and figures in rich gilding, columns of finest marble, bronzes, multitudes of precious objects, but with a solemnity far beyond all these, which makes one feel that one is in a temple, a place of worship, of bowing down to the Infinite, not of addressing man himself through a part of him which has shared in his general fall--the understanding. This, I think, is the main difference between Catholic and Uncatholic churches. Then, again, that vision of the Blessed Virgin and Child, so often repeated, and under so many different phases, is inexpressibly consoling. It really seems to me that the more men dwell upon the Incarnation, the more they will associate the Blessed Virgin with our Lord, and the saints with Him and with her; they will not analyse and divide, but rather always seem to be touching the skirts of His robe of glory, in every one of those who have suffered and conquered in His name; and most of all in the Mother, who was and is so unspeakably near to Him. Thus the Protestant sees in her "a dead woman worshipped;" the Catholic, the mother of all Christians; the Protestant sees in the saints "deified sinners;" the Catholic, living members of His body, in whom His virtue now dwells without let of human corruption. In short, I think Keble is no less true than beautiful when he says,

"What is this silent might, making our darkness light,
New wine our waters, heavenly Blood our wine?
Christ, with His Mother dear, and all His saints, is here,
And where they dwell is heaven, and what they touch divine."

Now this is just the idea which an Italian church conveys.

Our room looks out on the end of the Grand Canal, into whose waters a slight jump would convey one some fifty feet down. It is one of the greatest thoroughfares and finest views in Venice. Gondolas are perpetually flitting by; I had my first glide in one to-day for several hours up and down the Grand Canal. I can't say I feel the smallest sympathy with the ruling spirit of ancient Venice, but it is something to be on a spot so long the seat of empire; I feel that I shall _feed_ for the ensuing year on this excursion, and this adds much to its pleasure. We were all delighted with Trent: it is magnificently situated in the midst of mountains, with that wild rapid Adige sweeping through it. The church in which the Council sat is, of course, very interesting. We called twice on the bishop; first to ask his permission to see the Estatica; secondly, to give him our report. He received us with the greatest politeness, talked about Church matters in England, and perhaps was gratified, if not surprised, by three English priests falling on their knees to receive his benediction. I hope you got my long letter of the 1st of August, giving our visit to Capriana and Caldaro. We all look back on that with great satisfaction.

_August 6th._--Venice this morning is in all its beauty; we have just taken a gondola for the day, to visit churches and paintings,--Titian's finest are here. We take coffee morning and evening in the Piazzetta of St. Mark, the great resort. It is with great difficulty one can get along without an officious shoe-black insisting upon the satisfaction of cleaning that part of one's dress. If they happen to be dirty, the creature can no more be driven away than a hungry mosquito; he buzzes round and round and round, till the only way is to stop and let him draw his sous.

Yours very sincerely,
T. W. ALLIES.

Milan, August 14. 1847.
MY DEAR ----.

I left Venice yesterday morning, on my way home, alone, I am sorry to say, for my two companions proceed to Bologna and Florence, and will not be back in England till the end of September. It seems to me quite a different thing now I have to go by myself; and the only comforting thought is, that every step brings me nearer home. I am not likely to lose much time on the road, and I hope to be with you on the day I mentioned in my last; viz., Tuesday, the 26th.--I meant to have written to you again from Venice, but our days went swiftly there, and when we returned in the evening I was too much tired for the exertion. Venice will remain as a strange and beautiful dream in my remembrance. After all that one had heard it required sight to realise a city rising out of the water on all sides, whose streets are canals, whose doors open by flights of stairs on the water, whose carriages are gondolas, and the most agreeable kind of carriage I ever was in; for one reclines in them most lazily, like lotos eaters, and sees palace and church, and all sorts of strange-looking heterogeneous buildings sweep gently by, in a sort of sleep; while every now and then comes a bit of semi-eastern architecture, rich ogee windows, and arcades which perfectly delighted me, and quite as often we wound through narrow, dirty, motionless canals, that seemed just suited to a purpose they no doubt often served,--the drowning troublesome bodies. But one sight we saw which you would have thoroughly entered into. On Sunday afternoon, as we got into a gondola, the gondolier informed us that he could not take us at the accustomed fare that evening, from six to eight, for it was his especial harvest time, that all the world went to the music on the Grand Canal. Accordingly, after looking for some time at the Euganean hills and Friuli mountains, which are a glorious sight to the north of Venice, we bade him take us to meet the music on the Grand Canal. This is about 200 feet wide, winds most beautifully through the city, having the Rialto bridge about the middle, and is bordered by the finest palaces. We soon met the Archduke's gondola, and behind it a great crowd of others covering the whole breadth of the canal, shouldering and elbowing each other, the gondoliers shouting, watching every one else's gondola as well as their own, applauding or blaming, as might be. Each boat has one man on a little covered deck near the stern, where he balances himself admirably, and mainly directs the boat, serving both as oar and rudder, and another not quite so near to the prow. In the middle ladies recline on cushions, and no Hyde Park carriage serves to set off beauty and fashion so well as those wicked barks of Venice, which have screened so many tricks both of man and woman, for so many hundred years. On this occasion, however, the part of the boat which serves for shelter, coolness, or concealment, as it may be,--that is, a sort of cabin, covered with crape, is taken away, and the cushions afford a full view of whatever they carry. Into this press and throng of little gallies we passed with the rest; the scene every moment changing, the gondoliers vociferating, the boats seeming in perpetual collision, now jammed close together, and again emerging into a few feet of clear water, the band playing close behind us. Every now and then adventurous boats came from the other direction, and how they made themselves a way into a throng that seemed quite full before was the wonder. Some of the gondoliers were dressed in fanciful liveries, which added much to their appearance. This was all in the last light of day, and we agreed that we had never seen so interesting and original a piece of fun. A single gondolier thus standing on his little deck will guide his boat with admirable skill, and though it is near forty feet long, he will make it turn the corners of the narrowest canals, and wind through opposing boats without touching. For this purpose, when he approaches a corner which he has to turn, perhaps at right angles, of course not knowing what is coming the other side, he sings out in good time, Stalí, or Staprimí; answering to starboard and larboard; and thus collisions are generally avoided, though barges act in an unkind and domineering manner towards their slighter brethren, and move about with a consciousness that they are the "iron pots" against the "earthen." These canals are not always free from another danger, as we were near learning to our cost. The last evening, as we emerged from one of the thousand bridges, came a violent smash into the boat, which made me jump. It was a whole wine bottle which descended, and broke itself on W----'s back. Providentially he was not much hurt, but I thought it might just as easily have been my head, which was uncovered at the time, and which it would certainly have broken. I suppose it was done thoughtlessly, but we could not discover the person. Almost all our time was spent in the open air at Venice, with occasional visits to the picture galleries and churches. We were all much struck with the number of persons attending services on week days. There are Masses perpetually going on, sometimes two or three at different altars, from early in the morning till past noon, and each would have its circle of worshippers, men as well as women. Besides, persons would be kneeling in all parts. The largest church in Venice, S. Giovanni e Paolo, a very fine one, full of grand tombs of the ancient Doges, had the exposition of the Holy Sacrament for five days over the Great Altar, which was fitted up with crimson hangings all round, and a great quantity of lights; in the centre, in a remonstrance, the Host was exposed, places for kneeling stretched a great way down the church. I was in it almost every day, and always saw a great many kneeling and saying their prayers. We heard a sermon in St. Mark's on Sunday, about the different modern systems of physical philosophy, and their manifold absurdities. Morning and evening we took our coffee, often relieved with ices, in the Piazza of St. Mark, which in the evening is a great rendezvous, and serves the ladies in the summer instead of receiving company at home. Then we used to walk under the Doge's palace, and talk of things past, present, and to come, of which the two former were the pleasanter. We were generally very unanimous, liking the same buildings, the same pictures, and the same principles; disliking with one accord that huge variety of beard and whisker and moustache, in which "Young Italy," no less than "Young France," luxuriates. The journey here took twenty-three hours from Venice, the heat and dust dreadful. To-morrow I shall see the Feast of the Assumption, which you remember we passed together at Amiens four years ago. On Monday my place is taken to Lucerne, thirty-two hours' journey from here, so that night I shall begin to scale the Alps by the St. Gothard pass, descending on that most lovely lake, and the worst part of my journey will be over. _August 15th._ I went just now to see the sun rise from the top of the cathedral. As I entered it just before five, I found a good many people, mostly of a poor class, already there. At five a priest entered, and began communicating people before the rails of an altar in the transept. This is done very rapidly; as with only a previous blessing he takes the pyx from the tabernacle over the altar, in which the Host is reserved, and holding a Host between the fingers and thumb, makes with It the sign of the cross, saying in Latin, "The Body of the Lord preserve thy soul to eternal life," and puts It on the tongue. When I came down an hour after, I saw a much larger number, and after celebrating Mass he began communicating a fresh set. In this way a great number can receive in a morning at different altars, without much waiting. As for _effect_, they understand it well here; the lights burning on and before the altars, and the deep religious gloom of the duomo itself, especially in early morning, add all that can be added to the solemnity of such a scene. This is going on without intermission, till the High Mass at eleven. It certainly looks to me very like reality.

Yours very sincerely,
T. W. ALLIES.

JOURNAL.--1848.

_Paris. Windsor Hotel, Rue de Rivoli, July 18. 1848._--I have been nine days in France, and the kindness of friends has not left me an hour to put down my thoughts. Yet assuredly, in so utter a change of one's usual habits and sights, the mind has been more affected than during many weeks of sedentary occupations. But when one has been profoundly moved either by a religious service, or a conversation, or place or building, it is a great effort to sit down, collect one's thoughts, and turn one's eyes inward on oneself. Generally, too, by the end of the day we were so fatigued that such an effort became physically impossible.

We left Southampton at five P.M., on Saturday, the 8th July. A good deal of wind, and sea rough. Passed off Portsmouth the fleet of ten men-of-war, one three decker, St. Vincent, 104 guns; four two deckers; and five frigates. Most majestic they looked unmoved amid the freshening waves. I can never see a ship of war without my heart bounding. Byron has exactly expressed one's feeling:--

"She walks the waters like a thing of life,
And seems to dare the elements to strife."

At five we found ourselves on the quai at Havre. The douane here is so polite as to keep one's luggage till eight o'clock--a kindness which is carried still further by the police, as the visa of passports does not commence till eleven. So I proposed to walk to the beautiful Norman church of Graville, the pendant of our own St. Cross, half way up that delightful côte which looks down on the embouchure of the Seine, and the high coast of Honfleur and Caen. The view from the terrace of the old Priory is most charming; and behind the church a most picturesque cemetery stretches up the steep hill. There is a perfect cross a little to the west of the church, which is very pleasing. We found the church empty, and said our English office before one of the altars. I do not like the effect of two windows in the apse, which symbolise, I suppose, the Two Natures, but otherwise this church is a beautiful specimen of a Norman parish church. However, its nave has been recently defiled by most protestant-looking pews; and under the tower, just before the chancel, there actually is to be seen a squireen's pew, with a table and cloth in it. The chapel and image of the Blessed Virgin were the most pleasing. At three we went on to Ivetot, and found a most kind welcome from our friends. They lodged us in a house they have lately purchased, in their garden, where, for the first time in my life, I had the honour of a silver bason and ewer. We supped in the refectory, at a table in the middle, with M. le Supérieur. Silence is kept at the meals, and one of the pupils reads from a pulpit on one side. The pupils act as servants in turn during the meal.

_Monday, July 10._--We heard two sermons, morning and afternoon, from M. P. L. Labbé to the confirmands, fifty-nine in number. Our friend's manner was mild and paternal, yet full of zeal and unction. His morning subject was, "You have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear, but ye have received the spirit of adoption whereby we cry Abba Father." He distinguished between servile fear and filial fear--between Jewish bondage and Christian adoption; beseeching his hearers ever to cherish in their hearts the sense of God's paternal love, and that "we can never know how much God loves us in this world;" and then he urged them, if ever they fell into sin, to fly to God at once for pardon, never distrusting Him, however great their own unworthiness; reminding them that the tribunal of penitence was ever open to them. In the afternoon his subject was, "Ye shall receive power after that the Holy Ghost is come upon you, and ye shall be witnesses unto me." That at confirmation there was a _larger_ infusion of the Holy Spirit than at baptism--what it was to be witnesses to God--witnesses by our whole life and conversation. These two addresses much pleased me, both as to manner and matter.

We had the privilege of saying our English office in their chapel, where the single lamp marks the presence of the Holy Sacrament. How great a blessing is this, that the Lord of the Temple dwells bodily in it--how great a realising of the Incarnation. The chapel is a very pleasing imitation of the middle Gothic style, built from the designs of M. Robert, who, being a pupil of the Ecole Polytechnique, gave up all prospects in the world for the hard and painful life of a priest in a petit séminaire: and not only he, but all who are there, seem to have their daily life supported by a spring of charity in themselves; and the great self-denial which accompanies it seems borne as if it were no weight at all, for they look for the recompense of the reward. During the five days we passed at Ivetot we remarked again and again to each other the atmosphere of fraternal charity which all seemed to breathe. There was no looking for success in the world--no thought of gaining wealth; but the one thing in view was to train the children committed to them as members of Christ and heirs of His kingdom. This one thought pervaded all their actions. In the evening the Archbishop of Rouen came, attended by his vicaire général, M. Surgis. The masters and ourselves supped in private with him; and I was confounded at being put on his right, as P. was on his left. His own affability, however, and the unaffected kindness and ease of his demeanour with his clergy, soon made one feel comfortable.

_Tuesday, July 11._--The confirmation was at nine. The pupils formed in procession along the corridor into the chapel, some sixty or eighty of the rear in albes, followed by the masters and some other clergy, the cross and crosier immediately preceding the Archbishop; we followed behind, and then mounted to the latticed tribune at the end of the chapel, whence the whole disposition of the congregation, the multitude of albes, the altar dressed for the Holy Sacrifice, and the splendid habit of the Archbishop, formed a most pleasing scene. He said Mass, and communicated, I should think, a hundred pupils; as they knelt two and two all up the chapel and received successively from his hands, nothing could be more solemn. There was a moment in this service particularly touching--the Archbishop took his crosier in his hand and standing before the altar said, "Benedicat vos omnipotens Deus, Pater, et Filius +, et Spiritus Sanctus." It seemed like the great High Priest Himself blessing His people. After Mass he stood before the middle of the altar, and, requesting them to be seated, addressed them for about twenty minutes. His manner was a mixture of grace and simplicity most pleasing to behold; indeed, his whole demeanour represented exactly the priest, the father, and the bishop, and left behind it a perfume as it were of the heavenly hierarchy, among whose earthly counterpart he ranked. He enlarged upon the triple blessing bestowed upon us by the Holy Trinity, in creation, in redemption, and in sanctification. Presently he spoke of the Holy Eucharist as an extension of the Incarnation, (rapétissant) gathering it up into little; and of Christ therein really, substantially, and personally present in us. His vicaire général said, that in daily confirmations during two months he never repeated himself, but varied each address. He had no note, and spoke without effort. Then followed an examination of the confirmans by himself during about thirty-five minutes. He took boys here and there and asked them questions on the elements of the faith, the sacraments, &c., in so low a voice that I could only catch the general import. Then came the confirmation itself, which, like our own, is very short. He stood at the middle of the altar, and stretching out his hands towards the people, called down on the confirmans kneeling before him the sevenfold gifts of the Holy Ghost:

"The spirit of wisdom and understanding.--Amen.

"The spirit of counsel and ghostly strength.--Amen.

"The spirit of knowledge and true godliness.--Amen.

"Fill them, O Lord, with the spirit of thy fear, and sign them with the sign of the cross of Christ unto eternal life."

The repetition of the Amen at intervals by the confirmans gives a feature to this prayer which our own does not possess. Then the confirmans, two by two, came kneeling to his chair before the altar, and he signed them on the forehead with the holy chrism, naming each by his Christian name as he said, "I sign thee with the sign of the + cross and confirm thee with the chrism of salvation, in the name of the Father+, and of the Son+, and of the Holy Ghost+. Amen." The service occupied three hours; but in country parishes it is not usually preceded by the Mass.

We had then a grand dinner at a table placed in the middle of the refectory, several clergy, friends of the house, being present. There was plenty of talking, the rule of silence being suspended by the presence of the archbishop.

In the evening there was a solemn Benediction, at which the archbishop did not officiate, but was in a chair near the altar.

After dinner, two of the pupils, one from the older and one from the younger division of the school, recited verses before the archbishop, and the whole school seemed delighted at the words of kindness he addressed to them. I heard our friend, in one of his addresses, remind them that the archbishop was the head and master of the house, and so they all appeared to feel him to be.

In the evening we were all collected, in a somewhat suspicious manner, for some exhibition in a long hall, at the end of which a carpet was spread, and a chair placed for the archbishop. I asked M. Robert what was coming; but he replied, "Pour nous autres Français, vous savez, nous sommes des fous: il faut que nous rions de tout!" I will not say that the entertainment verified his former proposition, but certainly it did the latter. M. Picard, curé of the cathedral of Rouen, took out a paper, and began reading a copy of verses by himself, commemorating a recent fall from his horse of one of the tutors. At each verse the boys took up couplet and refrain, and sung it with hearty good will. This continued for some twenty or thirty stanzas. The boys needed but the hint. I thought to myself, I doubt whether it would improve the discipline of Eton to collect the boys in the long school room together to commemorate an equestrian lapse of my friend C. or A., supposing them to have met with one. The refrain,

"Quel est ce cavalier là
Qu'il mene bien son dada,
Tra-la-la tra-la-la,"

sounded by 250 voices, still rings in my ears. This was succeeded by another song, recited in the same manner, on M. Robert's propensities to study the moon.

We supped, as before, upstairs, and had some pleasant conversation with the archbishop.

_Wednesday, July 12._--The archbishop sent for us this morning, inquired into our views in visiting France, and gave us each an Imitation of Christ and a small cross which he had blessed. He expressed in the most cordial manner his pleasure at seeing us, and pressed us to visit him at Rouen. After an early dinner, M. P. L. Labbé insisted on taking us to see the old abbey church of Fécamp; we went partly by railway, and, as the diligence was waiting for the train from Havre, walked some three miles, and then took a char-à-banc from Goderville. We went to the curé's house at Fécamp: but he was building, and so we all lodged with M. l'Abbé Lefevre, formerly curate there, but now living with his sister without any direct charge. M. Labbé kept us, both at supper and dinner the next day, in continual merriment by his stories.

_Thursday, July 13._--M. Beaucamp, the curé, took us all over the magnificent abbey church, dating from the 10th to the 12th century, and near 400 feet long. He pointed out the variations in style and construction. It sadly wants the whitewash removed. This was last evening. This morning he took us _en pélérinage_ to Notre Dame de Salut, a chapel built by our Henry I., and one of four on this coast. The view was glorious over land and sea, the crag being 400 feet high. The poor fisher-women at times mount the _côte_ on their knees, to make vows for their husbands' safe return. The pays-de-caux is a fine rolling country, with groves of beech at intervals, a broad expanse looking most rich and prosperous. Fécamp is stuck in a deep valley between lofty downs. We enjoyed particularly M. Lefevre's hospitable reception, and went back for supper at Ivetot. The weather is delightful--a brilliant sun, with plenty of air.

_Friday, July 14._--M. P. L. Labbé, in his extreme kindness, would take us to Rouen to lodge in the house of M. Picard, curé of Notre Dame. It is in places a very pretty road to Rouen by the railway. We were able to say our English office quite uninterrupted in the Lady Chapel of the cathedral about eleven. M. Labbé staid with us all that day, taking us to different places. Amongst others, he carried us to the Carmelite nunnery, where we heard, but did not see, a sister who had been there fourteen years: she was formerly confessed by him, but in all that time he had never seen her. The rule is that none but father, mother, sister, or brother, can have the curtain of the grille drawn back, behind which the sister speaks to her visitors. She was telling us how her little nephews saw her when they were very young and came with their mother, but when a little older were no longer allowed this privilege: so the mother sat on one side, with the curtain drawn back before her so that she could see her sister; but the children on the other, with the curtain drawn, could only hear her. This pained them so much that they did not like to visit her. The sister's conversation was anything but sad: she spoke with most lively interest of a Carmelite nun lately departed at Tours, who had foretold all the disasters under which France was now suffering, ascribing them to the general godlessness, specially on two points--the blaspheming of God's name and the profanation of the Lord's Day. She gave us prayers composed with reference to this. When M. Labbé told her that we were not united to the Roman Church, she made a considerable pause, and seemed to draw her breath as if something unexpected had come upon her; then she said that she should pray earnestly for us, and that every Thursday with them Mass was said with special intention for England. She went for the prioress, who likewise spoke for some time; she had a most clear and pleasant voice, which it was delightful to hear.

In the afternoon M. le Curé and M. Labbé took us to call on the archbishop. He was very cordial--asked us to dine that day; and when we said we had already dined, repeated his invitation for Saturday, including M. Picard and his vicaire, M. de la Haye. Labbé was obliged to return. Before we left he insisted upon taking us over his palace. There is a splendid suite of rooms, terminating with a noble library: he has been collecting the portraits of his predecessors: he is himself the eighty-ninth archbishop. His palace is kept in repair at the public expense of the department, and three rooms are even furnished for him, an annual visitation of the furniture, as he himself told us, taking place. This archevéché is the ancient building, and of very great size--built as strong as a fortress: he showed us a window from which he had lately watched a barricade in the street below and saw a man killed. He took us last to the chapel--a plain Grecian building: hither the remains of the Empress Maud, lately discovered at the abbey of Bec, have been placed provisionally. It was only at her own earnest prayer, that the emperor, her husband, allowed her to be buried in a monastery, saying that she was too great a lady to be buried save at Rouen. The archbishop said that he seldom celebrated publicly in the cathedral, only about four times a year, "mais par la miséricorde de Dieu je dis la messe tous les jours dans ma chapelle."

M. le Curé's usual hours are to dine at twelve, before which he takes nothing, and to sup about eight. He asked two or three clergy continually to meet us, at one of these meals, during the three days we were with him. His reason for taking nothing before noon, is that, after saying Mass, he is continually so occupied by his parishioners, that many times he would be unable to breakfast, so he thought it better to make the rule absolute. The confessional is a very heavy burden--a couple of hours daily, on an average; and, before great fêtes, sometimes seven hours at a time. Labbé told us he had once confessed for twenty-three successive hours. This is a duty to which they may be called at any hour of the day or night. M. Picard and his curate, M. de la Haye, could hardly find time to dine with the archbishop on Saturday, at seven in the evening, and stole away as soon as they could.

_Saturday, July 15._--Our good M. Labbé returned to Ivetot this morning; he had surrendered to me his room. In the afternoon M. Picard took us about to the Hôtel de Ville--the ancient Benedictine abbey of S. Ouen: in the public library here we were shown the most magnificent gradual, full of very beautiful drawings. It had been used one hundred years before the Revolution, and, I should think, was unique, as we were told. The garden and corridors were occupied by National Guard; but M. le Curé's presence obtained us permission to survey the wonderful church, the masterwork of middle and late pointed Gothic, on that side, together with its portail des marmouzets, of matchless beauty. At S. Vincent's we saw eleven windows of very brilliant painted glass, which surround the choir, and are visible at once. We then walked up Mount St. Catherine, from whence the view of Rouen and the surrounding hills is charming. I have always thought the site of this city one of the finest I have ever seen, and it looked so to-day, under a July sun. We went on to Notre Dame de bon Secours, which is now nearly finished: the inside and western façade pleased us much. The latter has three portals, after the manner of the great mediæval churches dedicated in honour of Notre Dame, and is well combined and harmonised. The inside is of the architecture of our Edward II.; very good upon the whole: all the windows of painted glass, not unmixedly good, but the whole effect very striking. It has cost 40,000_l._, begged or given by the curé: a noble work indeed. The ex-votos are now inserted into the northern aisle. We should have liked to stay much longer here, but were hurried to return to the archbishop's dinner. We did not dine till half-past seven; nine in number, at a round table in a large hall. He apologised that it was a maigre. But, with the several kinds of fish, no one could have desired a better dinner. The archbishop, myself on his right, P. on his left, MM. Les Abbés Picard, De la Haye, Surgis, two others, and M. Barthélemi, the architect of bon Secours. We were struck by his conversation--he seemed a Christian architect, which is a rare and valuable thing. During the evening the deplorable state of France, the overthrow of fortunes, the general cessation of trade, and the frightful excesses of the late conflict, were talked of. The archbishop mentioned a man taken with arms in his hand, who was on the point of being executed by the soldiers, when the general officer interfered, and, by his solicitude, saved his life. The culprit took a pistol from his waist, said "Mercie, Colonel," and shot him dead. He was immediately cut to pieces. Every one seems to agree that the Republic cannot last--that there must be a monarchy; yet that minds are so embittered, and passions so excited, that France must come to this only through lassitude of suffering. No one knows what a day may produce. In Rouen there is great suffering--the shop-keepers sell nothing--the workmen have no employment. At Havre the warehouses are crammed with goods, for which there is no sale. Landed property, if forced to be sold, will not fetch half its value. No one can tell how long this will go on, or what will be the end of it. France is in complete paralysis. The source of all this misery is a wide-spread infidelity, united with the rage for material enjoyments, and a refined taste in pursuing them.

The scale of the archbishop's household seemed to me decent and proper, without being that of the Grand Seigneur in any respect. I liked and respected him much more than if he could have had the twenty liveried servants of his predecessor the Cardinal Archbishop Prince of Croï, when high almoner to Charles Dix. He is now the earnest and laborious head of a toiling and suffering but most charitable and devoted clergy. The one hope of France lies in her children being taught from the cradle the via crucis, via Regis.

_Sunday, July 16._--Fête du sacré cœur de Jesu. After our own office in the morning we have been nearly six hours at the cathedral to-day, between High Mass in the morning--and Vespers, sermon, compline, and benediction in the evening. Certainly the key note of all the Roman services is, "The Word was made flesh, and dwelt among us." The presence of the Incarnation broods like a spirit over all: gives meaning to every genuflection at the altar; life to every hymn; harmony to that wonderful array of saints, with the Virgin Mother at their head, who intercede with the most Holy Trinity, and join their praises with the angelic hosts, and the voices of feeble men suffering the conflict of the flesh. Around the Incarnation drawn out, applied to daily life, brought before the eye and the heart, enfolding the penitent at the confessional, exalting the priest at the altar, the whole worship revolves; children unconsciously live on it; mothers, through it, look on their children, till maternal love becomes itself deeper, warmer, and holier. Through it and by it the priest bears his life of toil and self-denial so easily, that charity seems like the breath by which he lives. What is the secret of this? It is that daily approach in the morning to the Most Holy One; that daily reception of Him, which deifies flesh and blood.