Chapter VIII (4)

Finally, it may be allowable to make mention of a letter which he addresses to her from Rome, on the 12th of October, 1833, while he was working on his drawing of the Last Judgment. In this letter we recognize his playful, working humor--and does he not term these periods of creative activity his wedding time? In several remarks, however, we discern both sides of his nature.

"My Noble Friend: It is really too bad! has he not yet written?
not even answered that charming letter from Salzburg? Well, I
must say, I am curious to see how he will justify himself.

"Thus I hear Schlotthauer exclaim; even Schubert ominously
shakes his head; but you are silent and thoughtful. I should be
in despair for an excuse for myself, having already shot off my
best arrows at you on similar occasions, exhausted my adroitest
terms--my best rhetoric. I say I should be in despair, if that
stupendous, that tremendous thing, 'The Last Judgment,' did not
take me under its protecting wing. Never has a man, probably,
with more sublimity asked pardon of a lady! And now, laying the
universe at your feet, I await composedly my sentence. From
this moment is my tongue loosed; and I can say to you that I am
celebrating my blissfullest time--my wedding time--the harvest
season of my holiest aspirations. How few mortals attain to
such happiness! and how ill-calculated is this world to afford
it!

"Gladly would I show you the work I am at present engaged
upon. Yet for a nature so quiet as yours, you appear to me far
too forcible and positive. Overbeck must love you a thousand
fold more than I: with me you suffer indulgence to take the
place of impartial justice. How I once fretted about such
things!

"What a treasure is a deep, positively incurable pain! Better
than the most unalloyed bliss which this poor world has to
offer, it brings us near to the Holy One. It is more faithful,
far less variable. It draws us into solitude, into ourselves.

"You surmise, doubtless, what I mean. Daily do I thank Heaven
that through you such knowledge was to come to me. This is
bitter medicine; administered, to a child, upon sweet fruit.
But why do I entertain you with such trivialities? In all books
of all nations we read the same thing; and yet when the poor
human heart is pressed with its heavy burthen, it feels just as
profoundly and acutely as in the very days of Troy itself; and
the utterances of joy and of love, like those of pain, are ever
new and their method inexhaustible; ever does one cast himself
upon the breast of a loving, sympathetic soul.

{109}

"Accept for the moment this confused scribble and remain
friendly and well-disposed toward me. Continue to peep through
my fingers, and leave me just five of them. I claim to myself,
however, the privilege of an unlimited love and veneration for
you. My entire household and all your friends send heartfelt
greeting; foremost of all, however, your
P. V. CORNELIUS."

The correspondence was interrupted when Cornelius removed to Berlin; but not the friendship, which endured to the end. Nor did the exchange of letters cease entirely; so that the ink-shy master once asserted in Berlin, that he had written to no lady so often as to her.

Among the earliest acquaintances of Emily Linder, was Father Franz von Baader; as the nine letters indicate, which were addressed to her, and published in the complete works of Baader. The first of these was dated as early as the 25th of May, 1825, therefore at the commencement of her residence in Munich; and the contents indicate the immediate cause of their mutual attraction. This letter has somewhat the nature of a memorial, in which the philosopher draws a parallel between the art of painting and the God-like art of benevolence; closing with the following words:

"Herewith commends himself to Miss Emily Linder--she who
rendered her memory so dear, so imperishable to him by an act
kindness performed at his request to a poor family--
Franz Baader."

The tie between them therefore lay in the admirable activity of that quality by which Emily Linder quietly accomplished so much--a high-hearted love for her neighbor.

From that time forward Baader regularly sent her his pamphlets and works, and we can appreciate to what extent he tasked her intellect when he forwarded her a copy of his _Speculative Dogma or, Social-Philosophic Treatise_. He regarded it as a pleasant duty to acquaint her from time to time with his literary labors: and she spared herself to no trouble to follow even such grave and abstruse topics. He succeeded in specially interesting her in Jacob Böhme. Her intelligent remarks on Baader's article upon the doctrine of justification led him to remark that her letter afforded him a more satisfactory proof than many a criticism that he had succeeded in reaching both the head and the heart. In the year 1831, Baader dedicated to her a philosophic paper entitled _Forty Propositions from a Religious Exotic_," (Munich: Franz, 1831.) In the brief dedication of this "little work on great subjects" we read, "While you in ancient Rome are dedicating heart, soul, eye, and hand to art, it may not be unwelcome to you to hear over the stormy Alps a friendly voice, reminding you of that holy alliance of the three graces of a better and eternal life, Religion, Speculation, and Poetry, adding to these also, Painting." In the letter which accompanies this pamphlet he places before her the leading thoughts of the little work in a lucid manner:

"When the teachers of religion say that the whole Christian
faith rests upon the knowledge and conviction that God is love;
and that in this religion the love of God, of man, of nature,
is made a duty; so that, in fact, a oneness of love and duty is
announced, it would seem seasonable this unloving and
duty-forgetful age so to present the identity of these two,
love and duty, that mankind can discern the laws of religion in
those of love, and those of love in religion; which, I trust,
has been done in this pamphlet in a new, albeit rather a
homoeopathic manner."

Next to Baader is to be named his intellectual son-in-law, Ernst von Lasaulx. He started, in the same year that Emily Linder left Rome, upon his long journey through Italy and Greece, to the Orient. They met in Florence, the 27th of July, 1831, and he promised the artist a description of his travels. {110} In conformity with this promise ensued a series of letters recording his experiences and impressions in Greece and the promised land, fresh and warm to a degree seldom found, and full of classic beauty. By whom could antiquity be better realized to this art-enthusiast than by Lasaulx, the zealous student of Grecian art-history, and equally a master of artistic prose! Poetic sensibility and literary clearness go refreshingly hand in hand in these letters; now in a description of his rides to that "eloquent rock-architecture" of Cyclopean edifices, the Titanic walls of the Acropolis of Tiryns and Mikene; or his solitary wanderings among the prostrate, ruined glories strewn from Corinth to Magara and Athens. At the first view of distant Athens, the Acropolis and the Parthenon, the temple of Theseus and the city behind the dark olive-woods he exclaims:

"Here is Greece, all of a departed glory worthy of the name,
which the noiseless waste of time and the insane fury of man
has left to the after-world. Never in my experience, and in no
other city, have I known such emotions. It is as though my
heart were turned into an AEolian harp, and the night winds
were sighing through its broken strings."

Despite all his predilections, however, for the classic land, he did not suffer himself to be deceived as to a new Greece by the occasion of the 12th of April, 1833, when he was present at the formal surrender of the Acropolis to the Bavarian troops, when Osman Effendi withdrew the Turkish forces, and the Bavarian commander, Baligand, planted the Greek flag upon the northern rampart. He remarks, in this description:

"It was a remarkable spectacle; the noisy, confused crowd of
Turks, Greeks, Bavarians and whatever other inquisitive Franks
had collected in the dusky colonnades of the Parthenon. As I
could not bring myself to any faith in the regeneration of
Greece, the rampant irony of this insane funeral wake only
added to my deep depression."

Written in the year 1833, and, hardly ten years later, what confirmation!

Glorious passages does the traveller indite to his distant friend over his pilgrimage through Palestine; profound melancholy at the present condition of the holy land; devout emotions amid holy places. On entering Jerusalem, Sunday, September 15. 1833, he says:

"Burning tears and a cold shudder of the heart were the first,
God grant not the only, tributes which I offered for his love
and that of his Son."

His delineations inspired his friend with a holy longing, and she entertained for some time afterward the idea of a journey to the holy land. She had, indeed, made preparations (1836) for a pilgrimage thither in company with Schubert, and only considerations of health compelled her at last to abandon the plan.

Subsequently, at the close of his life, Lasaulx crowned his friendship for Miss Linder with a special literary tribute. He dedicated to her his last great work, _The Philosophy of the Fine Arts, Architecture, Sculpture, Painting, Music, Poetry, Prose_, (Munich, 1860.) As though from a presentiment of his death, he felt impelled to bring his esthetic studies to a close, sensible as he was that here and there were still omissions to supply. But the book is the thoughtful labor of many years, and a masterwork of style. In the dedication, which serves as preface, and which was written in the Bavarian inn, at Castle Lebenberg, in the Tyrol, on the 25th of September, 1859, after speaking of the origin of the work, he refers, in the following words, to his friend:

{111}

"That I dedicate this work particularly to you will be found
natural enough on a moment's self-examination. I met you, for
the first time, thirty years ago, at Munich, in a delightful
circle of friendly men and women, so many of whom are
constantly departing from us, that those who are still left
have to move nearer and nearer to each other at your hospitable
table. A few years later, I saw you in Florence again, as you
came from Rome and I went thither. The death of our
early-maturing friend, Adam Eberle, resulted in an association
with you as a correspondent, and since then you have proved to
me, my wife and daughter, both in bright and gloomy days, so
dear and true a friend, that it is now a necessity with me to
express my gratitude to you, even with this very work, whose
subjects are so akin to your own studies, and in writing which,
at this fortress of Lebenberg, I have so often thought of you
and our mutual friends, dead and living, chiefest among whom
should to yourself this book be a tribute."

A year and a half later, the noble and true soul of Lasaulx had passed, and his grateful friend founded for him a memorial after her own peculiar taste, the pious memorial of a stated mass for his soul.

An early friend, also, and one true till death, was Gotthilf Heinrich von Schubert, who met Miss Linder shortly after he was called to the University of Munich. The amiable personality of this _savant_ of child-like nature particularly appealed to her. His fundamental views of religion accorded with her own; and therefore, the elements of a spiritual harmony were already at hand. Miss Linder was associated with his family during the period of an entire human life, in the closest and purest friendship, which particularly one test safely withstood--that of her conversion. In his autobiography, Schubert alludes, in a few words, to this friend of his household; and the comparison he draws between her and the Princess Gallitzin shows how high a position he accorded her. Speaking of the circle of friends in which he chiefly moved, he mentions the names of Roth, Puchta, Schnorr, Cornelius, Ringseis, Schlotthauer, Boisseree, Schwanthaler, and then remarks:

"The gathering-point of many of these friends was the house of
the noble Swiss, Emily. At all times and in all places, in
larger as in smaller social circles, will each with pleasure
thus recall that grand life-picture, which was similarly
presented to a former generation at Münster, in the fair friend
of Hamann, of Stolberg, of Claudius."

Emily Linder was certainly the first, in her deep humility, to deprecate such a comparison; but it is for both equally creditable that the venerable sage felt constrained to bear such testimony, even after her union with the Catholic Church.

Next to the testimony of scholars and artists, we will finally quote an opinion from a female writer, a literary lady of the higher walks of life. In the summer of 1841, came Emma von Niendorf to Munich. She was in friendly relation with Schubert and Brentano, and, several years later, recorded her reminiscences of those sunny days at Munich in a lively and imaginative little work. At Schubert's she formed the acquaintance of Emily Linder, and was attracted closely to her. She refers to her in glowing and expressive terms, depicting this art-loving woman in the repose of her home:

"A noble Swiss, and for this reason remarkable, that, fortified
by exterior means and the most positive convictions, she
presented to me an ideal existence in a ripe and unwedded old
age, having achieved happiness. She lived only for science, for
art, for all that is beautiful and good. But everything was
illumined with the glory of a genuine Christian spirit. And how
this spirit reflected itself in all her surroundings!
{112}
I shall never forget it; the sitting-room, with work-basket,
books, flowers, harp, drawings by Overbeck; a drawing-room
separating these from a little house-chapel, which a painting
of Overbeck also embellished. And, where the organ awaited the
skilful fingers, a Madonna of the school of Leonardo da Vinci
smiled from the wall, while the little side-altar encased a
drawing of Albrecht Dürer. I found, also, in the house of this
lady a portrait of Maria Mori, in the Tyrol, admirably drawn
by her friend, the well-known lady artist, Ellenrieder,
somewhat idealized; a profile, with folded hands; long, brown,
down-flowing hair; the large, dark eye full of devotion, full
of sensibility, the _stigmata_ in the hands not to be
forgotten. ... This lady is a Protestant. The deepest coloring
of her soul is, perhaps, shading toward Catholicism; yet she
doubtless finds satisfying harmonies in the Gospel. By one of
those wonderful providences which life is so full of, this
earnest soul was planted between two strongly pronounced
natures--two opposite polarities of friendship, both deep and
sincere--Clemens Brentano and Schubert, who were on equal
terms of intimacy with her."

At the very time Emma von Niendorf put her work to press, she knew not that the lady to whom these lines referred had already attained that toward which "the deepest coloring of her soul seemed to be shading." Emily Linder had sought and found "satisfying harmonies" in the faith of the one, universal, apostolic church.

Conclusion In The Next Number.

----------

Xavier De Ravignan. [Footnote 46]

[Footnote 46: _The Life of Father de Ravignan, of the
Society of Jesus_. By Father de Ponlevoy, of the same
Society. Translated at St. Beuno's College, North Wales.
12mo, pp. 693. New York: The Catholic Publication Society.
1869.]

Father De Ponlevoy's life of his friend and colleague, the celebrated orator of Notre Dame, violates many of the canons of biographical composition, and is nevertheless an admirable book. As a narrative, it lacks clearness and symmetry; but as a picture of the interior of a great and beautiful soul, it is wonderfully vivid. It could only have been written by one who sympathized completely with the subject, and understood the interior illuminations and trials, and the complete detachment from the world, which distinguished the illustrious preacher whose fame at one time filled all Catholic Europe. Father de Ponlevoy has given us therefore a valuable work. He has looked at De Ravignan's life from the right point of view--the only point in fact from which it offers any important material to the biographer. In a worldly sense, the life was not an eventful one. He came of a noble yet hardly a distinguished family, who preserved their faith in the midst of the storm of revolution, and brought up their children to love the church. Gustave Xavier was born at Bayonne on the 1st of December, 1795. As a child he was remarkable for a gravity and intelligence far beyond his years, a warm affection for his parents, and a very pious disposition. After completing his school and college education in Paris, he resolved to devote himself to the law, and at the age of eighteen entered the office of M. Goujon, a jurist of some distinction at the capital. He had scarcely begun his studies, however, when France was thrown into confusion by the return of Napoleon from Elba. {113} The young man threw down his books, enlisted in a company of royalist volunteers, and after preparing himself for the campaign by receiving holy communion, marched with his command toward the Spanish frontier. His company belonged to that unlucky detachment under General Barbarin, which was surprised and cut to pieces at Hélette, in the Lower Pyrénées. General Barbarin fell, severely wounded, and would have fallen into the enemy's hands, when De Ravignan rushed forward through the fire and attempted to carry him off the field. It was a generous but desperate act, which would have led to the sacrifice of both. Barbarin saw the danger of the young hero, and, freeing one of his arms, shot himself through the head. Covered with the blood of his unfortunate commander, Gustave sought safety in flight, wandered afoot and alone through the Basque country, in the disguise of a peasant, and, after many hardships and escapes, rejoined the army on Spanish soil. He now received a commission as lieutenant of cavalry, and was attached to the staff of the Count de Damas, who sent him on a confidential mission to Bordeaux. Before he had any further opportunity of winning distinction, the war was over, and although tempting offers were made him to continue in the army, he determined to adhere to the law, and was soon hard at work again. The indomitable resolution, amounting even to sternness, which distinguished him in after life, was already one of his most remarkable characteristics. Whatever he did, was done with all his might. He studied with the most intense application, and, not satisfied with the reading necessary for his profession, applied himself closely to the German and English languages, and such lighter accomplishments as drawing and music. In due time he was appointed a _conseiller auditeur_ in the royal court of Paris, then under the presidency of Séguier. The influence of the Duke d'Angoulême got him the appointment--not, however, without some difficulty--and his colleagues received him coldly. He awaited his time in patience, beginning each day by hearing Mass, and studying thoroughly, systematically, and indefatigably. At last, one day when the advocates happened to be out of court, a civil cause of a very tedious nature was unexpectedly called. The president turned, rather maliciously, to De Ravignan, and handed him the papers, saying, "Let us see for once what can be done by this young gentleman, whose acquaintance we have yet to make." On the appointed day the "young gentleman" presented a clear and logical report, and delivered it with a perfection of utterance which caused the whole court to listen with astonishment. His success at the bar was assured from that moment, and soon afterward he was appointed deputy _procureur général_.

His life at this time presents a curious and instructive study. He devoted a part of each day regularly to religious exercises; he was a zealous member of a Sodality of the Blessed Virgin; he had already in fact formed the idea of entering the priesthood, if not of joining the Society of Jesus. But while he remained in the world, he never neglected his professional pursuits, he mingled freely in society, and showed himself, in the true sense of the term, an accomplished gentleman. He was a great favorite in company. "In him," says Father de Ponlevoy, "interior and exterior were in perfect harmony. It would be impossible to imagine a more perfect type of a young man: the expression of his countenance was excellent, his forehead high and full of dignity, his features fine and characteristic, his eyes deep and blue, by turns animated and affectionate, his figure slight and graceful. {114} To this picture must be added scrupulous attention to person and dress, perfect politeness, and a nameless something, the reflection of a lofty mind, a great intellect, and a pure and affectionate heart." Many years afterward, when he visited London, to preach at the time of the World's Fair, one of the principal Protestant noblemen of England said of him, "He is the most finished gentleman I ever saw." His modesty, like many of his other virtues, leaned toward severity. At a great dinner-party one day, before he had embraced the religious life, he was placed next a young lady whose dress was rather too scanty. He sat stiff and silent until the unlucky girl ventured to ask, "M. de Ravignan, have you no appetite?" He replied in a half-whisper, "And you, Mdlle., have you no shame?"

He was twenty-six years of age when, after a retreat of eight days, he entered the Seminary of Saint Sulpice. The resolution had been gradually formed, yet it took everybody except his mother and his spiritual director by surprise. His professional friends and associates did all they could to draw him back to the world. They sought out his retreat, and went after him in crowds. "Ah!" he exclaimed, when he saw them, "I have made my escape from you."

De Ravignan remained only six months in the seminary, and then removed to the novitiate of the Society of Jesus, for which he had made no secret of his preference. The life of a novice offers little matter for the biographer. We are only told that his course here was distinguished by a devotion which approached heroism, a zeal that tended toward excess, and a strictness that was often too hard and stern. Throughout his life, severity toward himself, far more than toward others, was his principal defect; but as years went on, this rigidity of character, always more apparent than real, disappeared little by little in the sunshine of divine love. He never spared himself in anything. He surpassed all in his ambition for humiliation and suffering; the only trouble was, that he sometimes went too far in attempting to lead weaker brethren by the hard path he himself had trodden. A novice once asked somebody for advice, and was recommended to apply to Brother de Ravignan. "In that case," he rejoined, "I know beforehand what I must do: I have only to choose the most difficult course." In the scholasticate, he was known by the _sobriquet_ of "Iron Bar." When the time came for his admission to holy orders, after nearly four years passed in the scholasticate at Paris and at Dôle, he was sent with five other candidates to the Diocesan Seminary at Orgelet, where the sacrament of ordination was to be administered. Before the party set out, Brother de Ravignan was appointed superior for the journey. His companions were seized with fear when they heard who had been placed in charge over them; but their alarm was groundless. "Nothing," said one of the company, "could exceed the kindness, the affability, the attentiveness to small wants, the simple joy of the young superior. He availed himself of his character only to claim the right of choosing the last place, and of making himself the servant of all." He was ordained priest on the 25th of July, 1828.

The war against the Jesuits in France was approaching its crisis, and the ordinance which deprived them of the liberty of teaching and shut up all their colleges was promulgated just about the time of Father de Ravignan's ordination. {115} Cut off from the privilege of secular instruction, the society resolved to devote itself more zealously than ever to the theological training of its own members. Father de Ravignan was assigned a chair of theology at Saint Acheul, near Amiens; for he was not only a thorough scholar, but he possessed a rare talent for teaching, and according to the testimony of his pupil, Father Rubillon, fully realized "the idea of a professor of theology such as is depicted by St. Ignatius." The poor fathers, however, were not to be left here in peace. In 1829, they received notice to suspend their classes; but Father de Ravignan hastened to Paris, saw the Minister of Public Instruction, and caused the order to be set aside. The next year came the revolution of July. Late in the evening of the 29th, a mob, led by an expelled pupil, attacked the college, burst in gates, and with cries for "The King and the Charter!" "The Emperor!" "Liberty!" and "Down with the priests!" and "Death to the Jesuits!" proceeded to sack the building. While some of the fathers took refuge in the chapel, and others, expecting death, were busy hearing one another's confessions, Father de Ravignan went upon a balcony, and tried to make himself heard by the rioters. He persisted until a stone struck him on the temple, and he was led away bleeding. To what lengths the fury of the mob would have gone it is impossible to say; but fortunately, in the course of their devastation they stumbled into the wine-cellar, and all got drunk. The arrival of a troop of cavalry dispersed the reeling crowd in the twinkling of an eye, and the Jesuits were left to mourn over the ruins. The next day it seemed certain that the attack would be renewed. The college was deserted, and its inmates scattered in different directions, Father de Ravignan being sent to Brigue in Switzerland to resume his courses of theological instruction.

It was not until the close of 1834 that he came back to France. Then we find him once more at Saint Acheul, where, since classes were prohibited, a house had been opened for fathers in their third year of probation. Three years later, he was appointed superior of a new house at Bordeaux. There he remained until 1842.

In the mean time he had entered, imperceptibly, so to speak, upon the great work of his life. He had preached many retreats at different times to his own brethren, and to other religious communities, but had rarely been heard in a public pulpit until, during the Lent of 1835, while he was living at Saint Acheul, he was selected to preach a series of conferences in the cathedral of Amiens. He was forty years of age when he began this apostleship, and he had been withdrawn from the world ever since he was twenty-seven; yet he had not been forgotten. There was a lively curiosity among his old friends to hear him; the members of the bar in particular were constant in their attendance; and the impression produced in Amiens was not only deep, but rich in spiritual fruit. In Advent, he was appointed to preach a similar course at the same place; and in Lent of the next year, we find him preaching in the church of St. Thomas Aquinas, in Paris. Nothing exactly like these conferences and courses of sermons, so common in France, has ever been known to our country, and some of our readers may find it difficult to appreciate the magnitude and importance of the labor in which Father de Ravignan was now engaged. {116} The audiences whom he had to address were not only poor, unlettered sinners, whose consciences needed arousing; to these of course he must speak, but with them came hundreds of the most cultivated and critical listeners, who studied the speaker's language and manner as they would a literary essay or an exercise in elocution. The court, the army, the learned professions, and the leaders of fashionable society crowded around the Lent and Advent pulpits. The appearance of a new preacher was the sensation of the metropolis. The newspapers criticised the performance as they would criticise a play at the theatre. To satisfy the exactions of such an audience as this, and yet to preserve that unction without which preaching is a waste of breath--to please the critical ear, and yet to move the callous heart, required qualifications which few men combined. The most famous of all the series of conferences had been those in the great cathedral of Notre Dame in Paris. Father Lacordaire had there roused an extraordinary enthusiasm, and at the height of his fame had abandoned the pulpit and gone to Rome for the purpose of restoring the Dominican order to France. He earnestly desired that Father de Ravignan should be his successor at Notre Dame, and it is interesting to know that it was partly through Lacordaire's agency, that the Jesuit was obliged in 1837 to begin that grand series of discourses, extending over ten years, by which he will be chiefly remembered. "No one could claim to be the apostle of such an assembly as met in Notre Dame," says Father de Ponlevoy,

"unless he were first of all a philosopher. The subject chosen
for the first year was accordingly a kind of Catholic
philosophy of history, depicting the broad outlines of the
struggle between truth and error. This idea is analogous to
that which inspired the _City of God_ of St. Augustine; it
was carried on in the station of 1838 by an explanation of
fundamental doctrines, beginning with the personality and
action of God, in opposition to the abstractions of the
pantheists, the ill-defined forms of deism and fatalism;
proceeding on to liberty, the immortality of the soul and the
end of man, against materialism. For all this, it was necessary
to go to first principles, to recall slumbering belief to life,
and again to establish doctrines which had been corrupted by
numberless errors. Some portion of the hearers were from this
time forward led to embrace the last practical conclusions, and
already F. de Ravignan had some consoling returns to the faith
to report. At the end of the station of 1838, he wrote:

"'The attendance has been large and remarkable for the great
number of distinguished persons, members of the present and
former ministries, peers, deputies, academicians, well known
Protestants, foreigners of rank, and a troop of young men.

"'There have been symptoms of approval, sometimes too freely
manifested; conversions, a few, but not many. Moreover, no
expressions of hostility, either in the newspapers or among the
audience. God be praised!

"'I have been forced to have some intercourse with a great many
people, and some of them persons of note. M. de Chateaubriand
paid me a visit; two interviews were arranged for me with M. de
Lamartine; several physicians and men of science have sought to
see me; some have been to confession. How many great men there
are ignorant of the faith, and sick in mind and heart.

"'God has supported me. I have felt his grace, his help to our
society, and the benefit of the prayers offered for my work. I
took care that none of the journals should employ short-hand
writers, that my words might not be published in a distorted
form.'"

From the very outset, Father de Ravignan had contemplated the establishment of an annual retreat by way of a complement to his conferences; but wishing to give his influence time to work before he carried out this plan, he waited until 1841, and then resolved to begin in the small church of the Abbaye-aux-Bois, which with great crowding holds no more than 1000 or 1200 people. {117} Should the attendance be too large for this church, it was arranged that he should remove to St. Eustache. He describes the result of his experiment as follows:

"I gave notice of a retreat for men during Holy Week, only on
Palm-Sunday at Notre Dame before the conference; an instruction
every evening at eight o'clock till Holy Saturday inclusively.
On the Monday evening I went to the Abbaye-aux-Bois about
half-past seven. I found an extraordinary crowd, and difficulty
in getting places; and there was not a single woman. I had kept
them all out. For nearly two hours the whole church had been
full, and already a hundred people had gone away unable to get
in. I wanted to cross the bottom of the church, but I could not
get along. I was recognized, and with great earnestness, but
without uproar, I was asked to adjourn elsewhere. I promised to
do so. From the pulpit I was struck by this throng of men,
almost all young, who filled the doorways, the altars and no
disturbance. After having warmly congratulated them, I
appointed Saint-Eustache for the next day. Then I bade them all
rise for prayer. They all rose like one man. We recited the
_Veni Creator_, and the instruction followed on these
words: _Venite seorsum et requiescite pusillum--Come aside,
and rest a little_. I advised them all to remain for
benediction. All remained.

"Next day Saint-Eustache was filled five hours before the
service, and the following days they came even earlier.

"My heart is full of gratitude to God. His help has been plain.
I do not know that such a churchful of men was ever seen. The
iron gates at the doors, the bases of the pillars, the rails,
everything, was covered with people hanging on; the nave and
aisles filled and crowded beyond conception, and the deepest,
most religious silence--not one disturbance, no police--3000 or
4000 men's voices singing the _Miserere_, the _Stabat
Mater_. The sight affected me deeply.

"I at once adopted perfect apostolic freedom of language, and,
without preface, began to speak of sin, of hell, of confession,
etc. I delivered my address, and appointed six hours every day
which I would devote to men who might wish to see me. They have
come in shoals. I have been hearing confessions all the week,
six or seven hours a day, of men of all ages and positions in
life--all very much behindhand. God has given me consolation.
The prayers offered on all sides for this work have had a
visible effect. There has been a marked movement in Paris. More
Easter Communions everywhere. Our fathers have received many
more confessions of men. I have not declined a single one, and
I am still busy in finishing them.

"A good many came to tell me of their difficulties, and I said
to them, 'Well, believe me, there is but one way; take your
place there;' and all, with a single exception, made their
confessions.

"On Good-Friday the Passion sermon exhausted my strength; the
following day I had no voice left. I was unable to give the
closing instruction of the retreat on Holy Saturday. I wrote a
scrap of a note to inform the Curé of Saint-Eustache, and he
bethought him of reading it from the pulpit. All went off
quietly; the people waited for benediction and went home."

Lacordaire was a far more brilliant and poetical preacher than De Ravignan, but the styles of the two men were so entirely different that there can be no comparison between them. The conferences of the Jesuit orator, studied in the cold light of print, lack color and imagination; but they can only be judged fairly by those who heard them delivered. The principal characteristic of his delivery we should judge must have been force--a force which amounted to majesty. He spoke with a commanding air of authority, as one whose convictions were as fixed as the everlasting hills. His power of assertion was tremendous; with all this he was animated and impassioned, although he generally commenced with a slow and measured cadence. His style was a little rough, but nervous and striking. He did not captivate, but he conquered. His gestures were dignified and impressive; his attitude was modest but commanding; his personal presence was noble. When he entered the pulpit, he remained a long time motionless, with eyes cast down, waiting until the assemblage became perfectly still. Then he made the sign of the cross with a pomp and stateliness which became famous. {118} A Protestant minister who witnessed this solemn exordium exclaimed, "He has preached without speaking a word!" It used to be said, "When Father de Ravignan shows himself in the pulpit, no one can tell whether he has just ascended from earth or come down from heaven." One day he had been describing the wilful misery of the unbeliever--his doubts, fears, melancholy, repinings, and despair; the picture was drawn with a terrible force; the audience sat as if paralyzed. Suddenly, want of breath compelled the orator to pause. He folded his arms, and with inimitable emphasis brought the climax to an end with these words: "And we-- we are believers!" The effect was overpowering. The people forgot themselves, and a signal of applause ran through the church. The priest was indignant. With glowing countenance and arm raised in air, he cried, "Silence!" in a voice of awful reproof, and the assembly was instantly hushed.

Still more effective, though less celebrated than the conferences, were Father de Ravignan's retreats. In these he was unapproached. He followed strictly the exercises of St. Ignatius, to which he gave such unremitting study that he might well be called a man of one book. His conferences were prepared with great elaboration, but the retreats were improvisations. As years went on, he devoted himself more and more closely to these latter exercises, until they became at last his proper work in the ministry; and when sickness, and the loss of his voice had compelled him to abandon formal preaching, he continued to conduct the retreats at Notre Dame, while Lacordaire resumed his place in the pulpit.

It must not be supposed that the success of the Jesuit's oratory was any indication of a growing favor for the society in France. The opposition to its existence was still active, and the government refused to acknowledge that as a society it had any existence in the kingdom at all. The wildest stories about it were published and believed. One day, in the midst of a distinguished party assembled at the Tuileries to celebrate the king's birthday, a person of influence disclosed a horrible plot: the Jesuits had arms stored in the cellars of Saint Sulpice, and only the day before, Father de Ravignan had been there concerting measures with his accomplices. "Oh! yes," interrupted a lady of the court, "I was at that meeting. We were drawing a raffle for the poor. There were two or three hundred families so lucky as to be set up with a coffee-pot or a sauce-pan." As a general thing, however, whatever might be said of the society, Father de Ravignan was treated with respect. Guizot made no secret of his esteem for him, and Royer-Collard used to say, "Father de Ravignan is artless enough to imagine himself a Jesuit." In the little book which De Ravignan accordingly wrote about this time--_On the Existence and the Institute of the Jesuits_--there was a double purpose to be gained. He wished to identify himself as thoroughly and as publicly as he could with the society to which he had given his heart, and he wished to share in the gallant battle which Lacordaire was fighting for the right of the religious orders to exist in France under the protection of the laws. The opposition in the legislative chambers had been insisting that they ought not to exist; the ministry replied that they did not exist; and right in the midst of the dispute appears Father de Ravignan, like the poor prisoner who called a lawyer to get him out of jail. {119} "But this is preposterous," said the counsel; "you can't be arrested on such a charge as that!" "I don't know," said the prisoner, "but I _am_ arrested." "Why, I tell you, you _can't_ be: it is not legal; they have no right to put you in jail." "Well, I only know that I _am_ in jail, and I want you get me out." Father de Ravignan showed clearly enough that they did exist, and had a right to legal protection. If they were to be driven out of the kingdom, the government must face the responsibility, and do it openly. A few days after the appearance of the book, Lacordaire, being present at a meeting of the Catholic Club under the presidency of the Archbishop of Paris, exclaimed, "If we were in England, I should propose three cheers for Father de Ravignan." The cheers were given with a will.

We have no space to follow Father de Ravignan in the varied occupations of the next ten years. His health, always precarious, broke down completely in 1847, and for the rest of his life he was condemned to alternations of intense suffering, and of forced inaction which was worse to him than pain. He was tormented with chronic neuralgia, with dropsy on the chest, and a severe affection of the larynx, that for long periods deprived him entirely of the power of preaching. During these ten years of suffering, he wrote his history of "Clement XIII. and Clement XIV," a book which under the guise of an apology for the course of the latter pontiff in the suppression of the Jesuits was in reality an apology for the society, and a reply to the recently published work of Father Theiner on the same subject. He founded the sodality known as the Children of Mary, assisted in the establishment of the Congregation of the Oratory, and was zealously and constantly employed in the direction of souls and the guidance of converts--gathering up, as Father de Ponlevoy well expresses it, the fruit of his ten years' preaching. There is hardly a distinguished name in the history of France at that day which does not appear in connection with his. Madame Swetchine was one of his co-laborers. Madame de la Ferronnays, whose charming life has recently been told under the title of _A Sister's Story_, was his devoted friend. Chateaubriand, Count Molé, Walckenaër, Camper the celebrated navigator, Marshal St. Arnaud, General Cavaignac, Prince Demidoff, Montalembert, De Falloux, and Bishop Dupanloup--these are some of the illustrious names which occur most frequently in his correspondence. A celebrity of a very different sort with whom he had some intercourse is thus alluded to in Father de Ponlevoy's Life:

"We cannot conclude this chapter without making some mention of
that well-known American _Medium_, who possessed the
unfortunate talent of turning other things besides tables, and
of calling up the dead for the amusement of the living. Much
has been said, even in the newspapers, about his close and
pious intimacy with F. de Ravignan; and it seems that an
attempt has been made to use an honored name as a passport to
introduce into France, and establish there, these wonderful
discoveries of the new world.

"The facts, in all their simplicity, are as follows: It is
quite true that, after the young foreigner had been converted
in Italy, he was furnished at Rome with an introduction to F.
de Ravignan; but by this time he had given up his magic at the
same time that he gave up his Protestantism, and he was
received with the interest which is due from a priest to every
soul ransomed with the blood of Jesus Christ, and especially,
perhaps, to a soul which is converted and brought back to the
bosom of the church. On his arrival in Paris, he was again
absolutely forbidden to return in any way to his old practices.
F. de Ravignan, agreeably to the principles of the faith which
proscribe all superstition, prohibited, under the severest
penalties he could inflict, all participation in or presence at
these dangerous and sometimes guilty proceedings.
{120}
Once the unhappy _Medium_, beset by I know not what man
or devil, was unfaithful to his promise; he was received with
a severity which prostrated him; I chanced at the time to come
into the room, and I saw him rolling on the ground, and
writhing like a worm at the feet of the priest, so righteously
indignant. The father was touched by a repentance which led to
such bodily agony, raised him up, and pardoned him; but,
before dismissing him, exacted a written promise confirmed by
an oath. But a notorious relapse soon took place, and the
servant of God, breaking off all connection with this slave of
the spirits, sent him word never again to appear in his
presence."

We shall not undertake, in the brief space that remains, to describe the beauty of Father de Ravignan's character--his touching humility, his rare sweetness of soul, his complete detachment from earth, his patience, his charity, and his unflagging zeal. He was once asked how he had attained such mastery over himself. "There were two of us," he replied; "I threw one out of the window, so that only I remained where I was." Father de Ponlevoy applies to him the description which St. Francis Xavier gave of St. Ignatius: "His character is made up of three elements; a humility of mind which we can scarcely understand, a force of soul superior to all opposition, and an incomparable kindness of heart."

In the spring of 1857, a severe attack of sickness obliged him to remove to Saint Acheul. He came back to Paris in the autumn, apparently restored to as good health as he had experienced of recent years, but he was already far gone in consumption. On the 3d of December, he passed a long time at the Convent of the Sacred Heart, conversing with a poor person who wanted to enter the church. Then he went into the confessional, and remained there until physically exhausted. One of his penitents on that occasion remarked that he spoke more than ever like a man who no longer belonged to this world. He got home with great difficulty. This was the last of his ministry. On the Feast of the Immaculate Conception, he celebrated mass for the last time; but it was not until the 26th of February that he passed to that blessed rest for which he had yearned so long with an eagerness that he used to call "homesickness." The account of his last days is too beautiful to be abridged. With the awe inspired by the sublime narrative, we prefer to drop our pen at the opening of this final chapter, wherein the gates of heaven seem to stand ajar, and our eyes are dazzled by the awful light which streams from the divine presence.

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{121}

The Educational Question.

The articles upon popular education which have heretofore appeared in this journal seem to have produced the effects which were anticipated by the writer. The public interest has been unusually excited by the discussion; and two classes of antagonists have ventured to make an issue with the advocates of a just distribution of the school fund. The first in order, but much the least important in all other respects, is that confessed fossil, the "no-popery" party, which ever and anon intrudes itself upon the unwilling attention of our republican society, braying itself hoarse with rage because it can neither command the confidence of enlightened and liberal Protestants nor escape the galling ridicule of six millions of its Catholic fellow-citizens. This class is well represented in an elaborate tract lately issued from the office of the American and Foreign Christian Union, 27 Bible House, New York City, and purporting to be a review of the article in the January number of _The Educational Monthly_, presenting _The Roman Catholic View of Education in the United States_. It requires no great amount of logical acumen to enable the least intelligent of men to see that this tract affords the most apt illustration of one of the principal arguments we have advanced in support of the Catholic claim. We have remained silent for the last three months, resting satisfied that it would be impossible for "the stereotyped class of saints and philosophers" to rush to the rescue of a cherished injustice, without forthwith exposing its odious features in their struggle to carry it victoriously through the battle-field of a public controversy. The veil of Mokanna has fallen even before the false prophet had time to secure a victim! or, to speak more in accordance with scriptural analogies, the cloven foot has discovered itself under the clerical robe and the wickedness of the heart has burst out from the tongue. _Quare fremuerunt gentes!_ Why, indeed, shall they rage and devise vain things? Have they not fulfilled this prophecy of the royal David for three hundred years; and have they not suffered the derision threatened in the fourth verse of the second Psalm? Where shall we find a more convincing proof than this very tract of what the enemies of the Catholic faith and people design to accomplish by a school system which they insincerely profess to advocate on account of its intrinsic merits, in the face of the historical fact that, wherever and whenever they have had the power to control the state--as the early days of all New England and of several of the other American States--they never failed to use the school-room as an ante-chamber to the conventicle! After they had been stripped of this power by such men as Jefferson, Madison, Hamilton, and the liberal founders of American institutions, they still struggled for many years to accomplish by indirect means the injustice and iniquity which could not be openly maintained under the constitutions and the laws of the federal government and the several States. We all well remember how the poor Catholic boys and girls of the free schools were harassed by colporteurs and proselytizers, who carried baskets filled, not with bread for the hungry children of poverty, but with oleaginous tracts, cunningly devised to destroy in those little pupils of the state the faith of their fathers and the religious practices of their devout mothers. {122} Teachers were selected with especial regard to their bitter hatred of the Catholic Church and their zeal for "Evangelical" propagandism. When this failed to make any very perceptible impression upon the numerical strength of the Catholic people, then commenced the wholesale child-stealing, under the pious pretext of cleaning out the moral sewers of society; and tens of thousands of little children, stolen or forcibly wrested from the arms of Catholic parents--too poor and friendless to protect the natural and legal rights of themselves and their offspring--were hurried off to the far West, their names changed, and their temporal and eternal hopes committed to the zealous charge of pious and vigorous haters of the popish anti-Christ! In spite of all this, the Catholic population of the United States continued steadily to rise like a flood tide, not only through foreign immigration, but by reason of virtuous wedlock and the watchful and severe faith and discipline of a church which forbids and effectually prevents child-murder! The reader will find this matter discussed in an article elsewhere in this number, entitled, "Comparative Morality of Catholic and Protestant Countries."