Chapter VIII: Avowals (10)

If we might venture to offer a word in justification of the wisdom of the Church in thus wholly excluding women from the ritual offices of religion, we would say that she "knows what is in man;" she perfectly well understands all the effects of exterior influences upon the human mind and heart; that the female voice, when highly cultivated or sweet-toned, is alluring and sensual, (we do not mean in a bad sense,) and when naturally poor or _passé_, is equally repelling and disagreeable. The first cannot be said of the voices of men; nor the second, unless it be in attempts to execute music beyond their compass, or when they distort its sense or expression by vanity or affectation.

Canon Oakeley shall sum up for us what we have to say on this head:

"Together with the name of 'chapels,' which it may be hoped we
are in the way to renounce once for all, let us divest ourselves
of all that smacks of the chapel and dissenting system--the pews,
the pew-openers, the female sacristans, and the female choristers.
One of the principal lessons taught us by our great cardinal was
the duty of asserting in all judicious ways the dignity of our
true position; and this we can do only by ridding ourselves of
sectarian habits, down even to the very fringes of our garment,
and associating ourselves in spirit, and in that which forms
so especial a test of the ecclesiastical spirit, the external
worship of the Church, with the most approved practice of Catholic
countries."

Having made up our minds to tear down our Protestant singing-gallery, and to make use only of male voices in the singing of Mass and Vespers, we shall not fear for the decision of the question, What kind of music is to be selected? The Gregorian chant, that "grave, sweet, majestic, intellectual music of the Church," will defy all competition. When half the labor and expense has been bestowed upon the true music of the sanctuary as is now lavished on our florid concert music, then will be said to-day what Pope Benedict XIV. said so long ago, "The titillation of figured music is held very cheaply by men of religious mind, in comparison with the sweetness of the church chant."

But the other question, and a very practical one, yet remains: How shall we procure and hold proper singers for such music as is proposed, and for such a place as the sacred inclosure about the altar? We answer, in the first place, we have already some men singers with voices of good compass and power, who at present sing up-stairs beside the organ.

"What!" exclaims the friend at our elbow; "bring our present choir down into the sanctuary? How many priests, do you think, would do that?"

We reply to him, that, if the present choir-singers are fit and proper persons to be associated with the sacred ministers in the celebration of the divine mysteries, they are just as worthy at one end of the church as at the other; and if they are unworthy for any reason, they ought not to be allowed to take that part, or exercise that office of dignity in any nook or corner of our sacred temples. This capital point, the personal worthiness as well as the vocal capabilities of our choir-singers, has, it must be confessed, not been so rigidly insisted on in general as it might have been. Nothing appears to our minds more shockingly incongruous than a mixed chorus of Catholics, Protestants, and Jews singing the Credo. We remember hearing a fine Tantum Ergo sung as a solo at benediction by a Jewess. Think of it, a Jewess singing,

"Et antiquum documentum
Novo cedat ritui"!

and, in the presence of what she believed to be only a piece of bread, adding,

"Præstet fides supplementum
Sensuum defectui"!

We like the language of the Bishop of Langres. In a late pastoral on this subject, he says,

"The function of which we speak (singer) is one that deserves
respect for its sanctity. For many centuries it was reserved to
clerics; and when, afterward, laymen were admitted to assist, it
was required that they should, from their good conduct, be worthy
to represent the congregation of God's people, and take the lead
in this part of their worship; and, above all, it was required
that they should understand the dignity of the trust committed
to them, and should neglect no preparation necessary to acquit
themselves respectably. These laymen hold in the Lord's house the
first place after its consecrated ministers; and they should not
be allowed to continue in it unless they showed themselves the
zealous auxiliaries of the priest who takes the lead in the name
of the Church."

If we adhered to the character of the music desired by the Church, we should never be obliged to look elsewhere than to Catholics--to those who will sing from the heart as well as with the lips--for worthy auxiliaries of the priest in this devout and sacred office.

This leads us to consider the selection and the training of competent and worthy singers. We are aware that the destruction of the Protestant singing-gallery, the restoration of the choir, and adoption of the Gregorian music is not so simple a matter of choice with the pastors of churches that it can be effected at once by an order issued to the organist, and the provision of cassocks and surplices for as many men as can be paid to wear them and sing the music which befits such clerically-habited chanters. Such singers as we ought to have for our holy offices are not to be had to-morrow, even for money. Nor, even supposing such worthy persons, possessing proper vocal acquirements, were to be had by paying for them, would they be able to sing our sacred music in a style that would be even tolerable. Gregorian chant is not easy of execution, as some imagine. It needs not only good vocal culture to render its musical phrases with precision, but also no small amount of intellectual and moral training to give its true expression.

We say, good vocal culture. By which we must not be understood to mean that finished vocalization which distinguishes the professional opera-singer, or those few amateurs whose voices of natural sweetness and power have received first-class cultivation. All Gregorian music is included within an octave and a half, with rare exceptions. Great compass is therefore not required. The first requisite is the ability to modulate the different phrases with distinctness and facility. There are few men or boys who could not be taught in a short time to acquire this primary qualification of the choir-singer. On this head there is little or no difficulty. But as every one who can read English is not able to give a proper _reading_ of Shakespeare, so not every one who can sing the gamut or its intervals is able to sing the phrases of Gregorian chant. The reader of Shakespeare needs practice in tone, in inflection, in the art of speaking with sublimity, with pathos, with joy, etc. Then he must study the works of the great poet, must master his style, and with much painstaking and oft-repeated rehearsals learn to imitate the various characters, their mode of behavior, and peculiarity of utterance. The holy melodies of the Church possess an admirable variety of religious expression, and share with all her rites and ceremonies in that sacred dramatic form which clothes them with such remarkable spiritual power and beauty. It is plain, therefore, that the singer must not only understand what he is singing, but must make a study of the different phrases, in order to discover their true expression.

But besides all this intellectual attention to and appreciation of the chant, the slightest reflection will show one that a certain degree of moral training is equally requisite. The capital point always to be kept in mind is that the music of the Church is her divine prayer. The devout soul, though endowed with a voice of only medium capacity, will render these prayerful melodies with far greater effect than a first-class artist who sings only from the lips, while his heart remains unmoved by the words and the song. We are all conscious of the different effect produced upon us by the chanting of the _Preface_ and the _Pater_ by different priests. As a few simple words preached to us by a priest of an interior and devout life will go deeper into our souls, and bring forth greater spiritual fruit, than the most brilliant oratory from one of less religious mind, so a devout singer will give to his song a nameless charm, and edify those who listen to him far more than one who is his superior in musical attainments, but inferior to him in piety. It is Father Lallemant, we think, who said, "An interior man will make more impression on hearts by a single word animated by the Spirit of God, than another by a whole discourse which has cost him much labor, and in which he has exhausted all his powers of reasoning."

Our argument, therefore, for the restoration of the church music, and the banishment of concert music, implies the restoration, as well, of the church singer, and the close of our engagement with the concert artists, or the more wretched substitute of concert amateurs. We are sure that in every congregation in this country it would be possible to find a sufficient number of men and boys, possessing all the necessary qualifications, intellectual, moral, and vocal, for the decent and edifying singing of the church offices, who might be prepared after a few weeks' instruction for the duties of the chorister. We may be permitted to add, that our opinion is not mere theory, but based upon the observation and experience of many years in the practical duties of the ministry, during which the direction of the music has generally fallen to our care. If we are not able to refer our readers to a practical illustration of what we assert, it is simply because we also, as we said before, have been straitened and hampered by this incubus of Protestant tradition. Until we can get rid of this, we can do nothing. Until the people, at present profoundly ignorant on this head, learn what constitutes a Catholic choir and where it ought to be located in the church, we shall never be able to get any thing but concert music. They must learn that the present order of things prevalent among us is abnormal, unrecognized by the ritual, and quite as foreign to the Catholic standard as would be the preaching of a priest from the pulpit in a citizen's dress. We may be obedient to the strict law of the Church which forbids female singers in choir, and find a sufficient number of men and boys to take their places, who will scramble into the organ-gallery, and, under cover of the curtains, talk, laugh, chew tobacco, eat candy, draw caricatures on the walls and on the covers of the singing-books, and sit with crossed legs and chairs tilted backward even during the elevation and benediction--all this we will get as of old; but, until the _gallery_ comes down, until the singers are properly vested, and marched with proper ecclesiastical decorum into the sanctuary, or to such a place as near to it as the present inconvenient arrangement of our modern churches will permit, we shall never get a _church choir_.

This is our first point: let us have male singers who will understand from the dress and deportment they assume, for the time being, as well as from the position they occupy in the church, that their office as a church singer is a sacred one, of high character, and worthy of special respect as being associated officially with the priestly celebrations at the altar. No sooner shall we have succeeded in teaching the people this true Catholic tradition, than our youth will at once look upon the function of choir-singer as an enviable position, and the effort to make themselves worthy to be thus associated with the clergy in the divine offices will necessarily do much toward elevating their moral tone, and inspiring a devout Catholic spirit. We shall, very probably, not obtain all we desire at a first trial. Many of those whom we may select will likely disappoint us. This is in the nature of things. It is not every one who is selected as a student for the priesthood that proves to have a vocation. For ourselves, we apprehend little difficulty if our own purpose be well determined, and we give to the whole subject of church music a little serious study and reflection.

As to the source from which our churches are to obtain a regular supply of choristers, we frankly speak our mind, and say that the Catholic choir system would appear to involve necessarily the formation of what is known in France as the _maitrise_, or choir-school, in which are admitted boys of good moral character possessing sufficient vocal capability, and of a grade of intelligence to render it worth while to bestow upon them a more refined education than they might obtain in the ordinary school. This special education given in the choir-school tends not only to improve and elevate the character of the boys, but fits them as well to attain a better position in life than they could have hoped for without it. But this is a subject we can afford to defer to future consideration.

Supposing that we have come to the determination to conform our church music at once to the true standard, how shall we procure the necessary choristers? Let us see what we need. For large churches, or what are large churches to us, there should be at least four trained voices of men--two tenors and two baritones; and not less than twelve boys. These, equally divided on either side of the sanctuary, would make a better double chorus than might at first be supposed. The boys can be had for the asking; but the four men will not easily be obtained without a reasonable salary. The advertisement for them should, of course, conclude with the warning, "None but practical Catholics need apply." We do not propose to put the cassock and surplice upon persons whose very appearance in that garb would disedify the people.

For this choir we need a competent teacher. Advertise for him, and it is not unlikely we shall find such a one, or one who will quickly fit himself for that office, in one of the four hired singers. We do not hesitate to say that, even in this great city of New York, there are at present very few music teachers who are fully competent to teach the proper method of chanting the Vesper psalms alone, not to speak of those other important portions of the divine offices whose expression is more difficult to render. But there is no want that is not quickly met with the supply. If we want such a teacher, and are willing to pay him, then the subject of the church chant will at once engage the attention and study of professors of music whose business it is to teach. At this moment it is generally understood (and not without reason) by all organists and directors of choirs that our Catholic churches need performers and teachers who can come recommended as well versed in "the masses," as they are called.

As a consequence, these gentlemen devote all their energies to the study and practice of such compositions, and to the science of directing a mixed chorus. We do the musical profession the justice of believing its taste to be quite at variance with the taste of the public it serves; and, although we are prepared to see our choir-director shrug his shoulders and return us a wondering look when we propose our reformation to him, still, when we shall have given him to understand that we ourselves know what we want, and are prepared to count the cost, we feel assured that he will readily come into our views, and enter upon this new field of musical culture with more zest than he has hitherto shown in the conduct of music, for the most part, despicable even in his own eyes. We will engage him to produce church music in first-class church style. We will aid him by causing an organ of sufficient size to be erected near the choristers in the vicinity of the sanctuary. Should he crave for a larger chorus, we will seek out a number of young men, from eighteen to twenty-five years of age, whom we have in our eye, whose interest will not fail of being excited in this subject to which we give our pastoral solicitude, and whose social and moral character we feel assured will be benefited by being associated with our regular choir as volunteers. If we might be permitted the use of an expressive vulgarism, we would say that our young men, as a class, are "spoiling" for some church work. How many would not feel both honored and gratified by an invitation to labor with us in renovating and restoring the grand offices of the Church to their pristine order and sublime harmony! We manage to associate together a few of our young men in various confraternities and associations, and drive a few more into the ranks of the society of St. Vincent de Paul; but the greater number, upon whom depend the future _esprit_ of our church in this country, and upon whose attachment to all that concerns the dignity and devout character of our religious services hang the fortunes of our faith, are left unnoticed and unemployed. We propose this subject of the reformation of church music to them as a labor of love and true Catholic devotion, worthy of their hearty coöperation, and tending to their own intellectual refinement and moral elevation. We are not wholly unacquainted with the souls of this class of our brethren in the faith, and will answer for the response that will be made to our sentiments by any Catholic young man whose eye may chance to fall on these lines.

Now as to the matter of proper church music-books. Speaking as one who has been made wise through suffering, we rejoice at the prospect of seeing all our "Catholic choir-books," "Morning and Evening services," and such trash, bundled up and sent to the paper-makers. We are at liberty to state that, while the present Oecumenical Council may allude only incidentally to the subject of church music, by confirming the ancient canons made in regard to it, the Congregation of Rites is already preparing an authorized version of the Roman Gradual and Vesperal, and that his Holiness will issue a brief in which he will strongly exhort all the bishops to adopt it. As soon as this desire of the head of the Church shall have been brought home to us in the proper way, those whose hands are waiting direction will lose no time in preparing an edition of this work in musical notation, and harmonized for the use of organists, an imperative need for the great majority of our players and singers, to whom the learning of the plain chant scale and clefs would be a labor equal to that of acquiring the knowledge of a foreign language. Our choir-boys, and the generation of choristers who shall succeed them, can be taught the plain chant notation from the first, and will find it much simpler, and more expressive in typography, than the modern musical scale, with its varied keys in flats and sharps.

A word as to the comparative cost of the authorized church music and the concert music which now replaces it. It will be seen that we have advised the engagement of four professional singers, and the services of a special teacher both for them and the chorus of boys. This teacher, in most cases, would be one of the four salaried choristers or the organist. It will be seen at once, by those interested, that even in the beginning we shall not be put to any greater expense than we are already at for our music. In the matter of music-books there will be an immense saving for those churches which possess a large chorus. We ourselves own a musical library which has cost us several thousands of dollars; and to tell the honest truth, not one half of it is of the least practical use even with the present liberty we enjoy (?) of singing what we please. A set of Graduals and Vesperals, with a suitably harmonized version for the use of the organist, will suffice under our new and better _régime_.

We cannot close this portion of our remarks without calling attention to the great boon which this wholesome musical reform will prove to country churches. In our large cities, we have been able to perform in our churches music which is a tolerable imitation of the same style of harmony as given at the opera and on the boards of the concert-hall to paying audiences. As a rule, we have not charged any price of admission to our ecclesiastical concert offices, and our second-rate performances have therefore been justly treated with great leniency by the critics. But as you leave the city and enter churches in our small towns and country villages, you hear an imitation of the city fashion which is no longer tolerable. One must have advanced far into the spiritual ways of devout contemplation to endure the horrible cacophony without suffering indescribable tortures of soul. Then again, there are numberless village churches where never a sound of music, profane or religious, is heard. Yet, if these muse-abandoned people were disabused of their ignorant belief that our popular florid music is the only music possible or fit for the Catholic Church, and learned that, even if too poor to purchase an organ, they could have with a little study and practice all the music for the divine offices executed in a devout and decent style, it would not be long until the invariable low Mass on all Sundays and festivals, and the recitation of the Rosary in lieu of Vespers, would be a rare exception, instead of being, as it is now, not far from the rule. As an example, we confess extraordinary, of the gross ignorance of our country people concerning church music, we remember being told by a Catholic woman who had never been out of her own little village, that one reason why she was certain of the falsehood of the Protestant religion was because _they had music and singing in their churches_!

We do not expect to see our suggestions or opinions accepted without question or criticism. We are fully aware that we have been arguing in the face of inexperience and deep-seated prejudice. We console ourselves, however, with the thought that what we have decried as abnormal, irregular, and inadequate for the music of the Church, is in itself so inconsistent, incomplete, and disordered, that it does not deserve even the name of a system. Based upon a false principle, the amusement of an audience, it will ever fail of recognition or encouragement at the hands of the holy Church, whose sole object proposed in all her divine functions is _prayer_. The faithful come to church to pray. A church ought by its very form and interior dispositions surround the worshippers with an atmosphere of prayer. It ought to feel like a holy place; and nothing about it should smack of the theatre, or the halls of assembly for secular purposes. All that is presented to the gaze of the faithful in these sanctuaries of God, whether it be the ceremonies associated with the Holy Sacrifice and other offices, or the statues, pictures, and decorations which meet the eye, ought to be of such a character as to excite the spirit of prayer. All this we understand full well. Why, then, are we so dull of hearing that we cannot also distinguish the accents of prayer from the sounds which speak of war, of love, of the dance, of jocularity, and, for those who have ears to hear, of the grossest sensuality? Let us disabuse ourselves of the notion that our people wish to hear what is popularly styled "fine music" in church. It is a very great mistake. They not only frequent the church services in the special intention to pass the time there in prayer, but also heartily desire to have their weary, world-tossed souls helped by decorously performed ceremonies, by good, earnest preaching, and by devout, prayerful music, in awakening in their hearts true religious emotion and thoughts of heavenly things.

This is our sole plea for reform in our music, it being, without doubt, also the "mind" of the Church. She is in no sense opposed to secular music, any more than she is to secular painting, sculpture, and architecture, unless they be debased and made to minister to base passions. She who sanctifies all that is true and noble in human nature is far from discouraging or condemning the legitimate expression of those arts which can exert so much power in the instruction, elevation, and refinement of the intellect and heart. But none so wise as she to detect their weakness, and warn society against the moral evils which result from their prostitution to the service of the devil. One of the destructive faults justly charged against modern art, and notably of music, is its misapplication. A want of harmony in the relation of an art to the nature and object of the thing to be expressed or illustrated by it, is the signal for its own enervation and the corruption of what it should purify and strengthen; which is the teaching alike of philosophy and experience.

"A tale out of time," says the wise man, "is like music in mourning;" and the converse of the proverb, is equally true--

"The sweetest strains of music
Do but jar upon the soul, and set
The very teeth on edge, if but the heart
Hath not a mind to hear it."

Whence our conclusion. In the house of God, whose "house shall be called the house of prayer," no other song must be heard but the song of prayer, that melody consecrated to all that we have that is highest and holiest, which lifts the soul above the frivolities and sensualities of this world and of time, and transports it in spirit into the regions of the heavenly, and before the throne of the majesty of the Eternal.

THE IRON MASK.

This subject, so inexhaustible, so interesting on account of the unfathomable mystery that surrounds it, has again been brought to our notice by some recent discoveries. Whether they amount to any thing or not, remains to be seen; but they are at least singular, and may stimulate the curiosity of the erudite, and even that of simple amateurs.

A young writer, M. Maurice Topin, so says a contemporary French paper, who has obtained a prize of six hundred dollars from the French Academy for his beautiful book, entitled, _L'Europe et les Bourbons sous Louis XIV._, has been diving into old papers among the public archives, and says he has at last found out the true name of the unfortunate prisoner of the Iron Mask.

Following the advice of his uncle, M. Mignet, he has addressed a letter to the President of the Academy of Moral and Political Science, in which he incloses his secret--sealed, however--and says it must not be unsealed without his order.

So some day soon, perhaps, we shall solve the enigma that has perplexed the world for over two centuries.

A monk has lately died, too, somewhere in a French monastery, leaving papers testifying that he was the true Iron Mask. Some say he was deranged. Perhaps so; and perhaps we would rather such might have been the case. A real _bona fide_, two-hundred-year-old mystery must not succumb to this practical age of would-be common sense. We could never find such another, so we must content ourselves with reviving old facts and eliciting further researches.

* * * * *

He who was called, under the reign of Louis XIV., _The Man with the Iron Mask_, was not permitted to wear so pretty a covering as that which preserved the complexion of the Empress Poppée; and the painters who have represented him with a sort of lowered visor, a rampart of iron on his face, have made a great mistake.

The unknown prisoner, to whom nobody approached, and nobody spoke, wore a mask of velvet.

The question is not decided upon what he wore on his way from the Isle Ste. Marguerite to the Bastille. Some say his chin was inclosed in a network of steel, to permit him to eat, while the upper part of his face was concealed in the mask of iron.

But this is a mystery, and his early training no less so.

He had been incarcerated a long time at Pignerol, the château of which had served for a prison of state, and since 1632 had belonged to France. The inhabitants still show a large dismantled tower that overlooks the town, and give the tradition concerning the Iron Mask and Fouquet, who were here confined.

They showed the chamber in 1818 that these poor victims inhabited.

* * * * *

After the taking of the Bastille, indications of the Iron Mask were sought for among the registers of this place of detention; but the largest book of records was sadly torn, and the folio numbered one hundred and twenty, coinciding with the year 1698, the epoch of the incarceration of the prisoner, had been taken away.

Later, a leaf was discovered among the papers of a former governor, and here it is, as historians have given it to us:

+---------------------------------------------------------------------+
| Names and qualities | Date of their | Book. Page. | Motive of their |
| of prisoners. | entrance. | | detention. |
|---------------------+---------------+-------------+-----------------|
| Former prisoner of | 18th of | Du Junca, | Never known. |
| Pignerol, obliged | September, | vol. 37. | |
| to wear a velvet | 1698, at | | |
| mask; his name or | 3 o'clock | | |
| quality never | in the | | |
| known. | afternoon. | | |
+---------------------------------------------------------------------+

The date of the entrance of the Iron Mask into the Bastille is preserved at present in the library of the arsenal; and we read:

"Thursday, the 18th of September, 1698, at three o'clock in
the afternoon, Monsieur de St. Mars, governor of the Bastille,
arrived for the first time from the Isles of Ste. Marguerite and
Honorat, bringing with him, in his own litter, an old prisoner
he had guarded at Pignerol. His name was not given; he wore a
velvet mask; and was first placed in the tower of the Bayimère
to await the night, when I was to conduct him myself, at nine
P.M., into the tower of the Bertandière, to the third-story room
which, by order of M. St. Mars, I had completely furnished for his
reception. In conducting him to the said room, I was accompanied
by M. Rosarges, who was to serve and guard the prisoner at the
government expense."

Here let me state that Du Junca was not a surname given to the prisoner, but the name of the lieutenant of the king at the Bastille. The prisoner was called Marchiali.

* * * * *

The young historian who pretends to have discovered the true name of the Iron Mask has, without doubt, studied all the evidences up to the time of Voltaire, who also knew more than he was willing to impart.

He knew the story of the silver plate connected with the Isle Ste. Marguerite, whose governor was charged by Louis XIV. in person not to permit the prisoner to communicate with any one.

St. Mars waited on him himself, and took the dishes from the cooks at the door of the apartment, so that no one ever saw the face of the captive.

One day the Iron Mask threw a silver plate out of the window into the water-course beneath. A fisherman picked it up and brought it back to the governor.

"Have you read what is written on the bottom of this silver plate?" asked the governor.

"No, sir," replied the fisherman; "I cannot read."

This reply saved the poor man, who doubtless would have paid with his liberty, and even his life, for the possession of the terrible secret, if he had been sufficiently educated to have discovered it.

* * * * *

Another historian, the Abbé Papon, does not believe that the governor said to the fisherman, "Go; you are happy in not being able to read!" He states that, instead of a silver plate, the mysterious prisoner used a white shirt, covered from one end to the other with the written history of his life.

"I had," said he, "the curiosity to enter the chamber of the
unfortunate man. It was lighted only by a window to the north,
inclosed in a thick wall and cased by three gratings of iron
placed at equal distances. This window overlooked the sea. I found
in the citadel an officer of the French company, about sixty-nine
years old. He told me that his father had often told him in secret
that a watchman one day perceived under the window of the prisoner
something white floating on the water.... It was a very fine
shirt, plaited with negligence, and upon which the prisoner had
written from one end to the other.

"The watchman took means to recover it, and carried it to M. de
St. Mars, the governor of the Isle Ste. Marguerite.

"He protested that he had read nothing; but two days afterward he
was found dead in his bed."

It is said that the Regent of Orleans left the secret of the name of the Iron Mask with his daughter. We give what he related to her, this authority being a pretended governor of the interesting captive. His account may be found in the archives of the English government:

"The unfortunate prince that I raised and guarded," said he,
"until the end of my days, was born the 6th of September, 1638, at
eight o'clock in the evening, during the supper of the king, Louis
XIII. His brother, now reigning, Louis XIV., had been born in the
morning at twelve o'clock, during the dinner hour of his father;
but as the birth of the first child was splendid and brilliant,
that of his brother was most sad and carefully concealed; for the
king, advised by the midwife that the queen would bring forth
a second child, caused to remain in her chamber the chancellor
of France, the midwife, the first almoner, the confessor of the
queen, and myself, to be witnesses of what might happen, and of
what he would do, if this child should be born alive."

* * * * *

Actors have for many years studied carefully the costume of _The Man with the Iron Mask_ and he who played in the drama by this name, M. Lockroy, is still alive. He personated the prisoner, and was clothed in black velvet, with black stockings and buckled shoes. He wore the double mask of velvet with steel springs over his lips.

In this piece, that all Paris went to see, Chilly represented Louis XIII.; Delaistre, M. de St. Mars; and Ligier, who was afterward the Duke of Gloucester and the Louis XI. of Casimir Delavigne, took the part of the protector of the unfortunate recluse.

Again, under another name--_The Prisoner of the Bastille_--the same story has been dramatized, and fresh interest added by an imaginary conversation between the captive and Louis XIV.

* * * * *

It is easily seen that the most general opinion of the Iron Mask considered him the twin-brother of Louis XIV., kept out of the way for fear of future trouble and collision in the government of France.

Some authors affirm, too, that he must have been deformed, his face distorted, or with some physical infirmity that it was necessary to conceal.

Others have thought that the brother of Louis XIV., being born the last, was the elder by right, if the opinion of physicians and legislators is to be consulted; and that the tenderness inspired by the first born of the two brothers occasioned the act of ostracism, which history has sought in vain for a hundred years to elucidate.

* * * * *

In 1837, there appeared a remarkable dissertation on the Iron Mask, by M. Paul Lacroix. He says that he who bore the name of Marchiali during his lifetime was not the twin-brother of Louis XIV., and not even a son born clandestinely of the queen, but the superintendent, Fouquet himself.

But the Iron Mask has in turn been believed to be Fouquet, Marchiali, Arwediks, and other people who disappeared about that time.

He, however, who was called Marchiali, and who entered the Bastille the 18th of September, 1698, died there suddenly the 19th of November, 1703.

Very singular precautions were taken after his decease.

The body and face were mutilated, and every thing composing his furniture was burned; even the doors and windows of his bedroom. The silver he used was melted. The walls of his apartment were scraped and re-whitened.

He was buried the 20th of November, 1703, in the Church of St. Paul, under the name of Marchiali.

Time has not given the answer to this lugubrious enigma, and we fear M. Maurice Topin has failed to solve it.

But let us give him his meed of praise for having consecrated his nights to seeking for documents, comparing dates, and confronting the evidence of the most celebrated writers on the subject.

Honor to the brave historian whom the night of time does not intimidate, and who is willing to grope among the shades of the past for what is hidden, and above all a secret of the state!

Among all the victims of the old _régimes_, _The Man with the Iron Mask_ was the most interesting.

This popular story was in every mouth the day of the taking of the Bastille.

If he had lived until 1789, would it have been a pretender to the crown, or simply a suspected prisoner, that the people would have delivered?

We wait for M. Topin to answer.

ON A PICTURE OF NAZARETH.

In dreams no longer, but revealed to sight,
Comes o'er us, like a vision after death,
That shrine of tenderest worship--that delight
Of loftiest contemplation--Nazareth.

Fair-throned as when creation's King and Queen
Abode within its walls, it looks around
As scorning time and change; though these have been
The ruthless masters of its hallowed ground.

Still smiling as of old, it catches still
As fresh a morning; basks in such a noon;
Hears evening's voice as sweetly softly thrill;
In glory sleeps beneath a gushing moon.

Still looms the Mountain of Precipitation
In sadness o'er a vale serene and bright,
As when the Saviour foiled his frenzied nation,
Who fain had cast him headlong from the height.

And see upon the slope the very gate
Where--spot to kiss!--a lowly footstep fell,
As daily passed the Maid Immaculate
To fill her pitcher yonder at the well.

That well! where mirrored shone the loveliest face
That ever woman wore! 'Tis there--the same!
Though hating Christ and Juda's banished race,
The Moslems honor there the Virgin's name.

Give thanks, my soul! give thanks that thou hast seen.
Make Nazareth all a well of grace; and pray
To keep its taste within thee--which has been
The strength of saints. Drink deep, and go thy way.

B. D. H.

THE GREEK SCHISM

The Eastern Church has for the Catholic an attraction which centuries of separation have not been able to overcome. We look on its glories as our own, and we deplore its misfortunes as of our own household. We have a common faith, the same sacraments, the same sacrifice, essentially the same devotional practices. Between us stands the barrier of a schism which has lasted for centuries. It is of this schism, its origin, its history, that we propose to treat in this article.

To understand clearly the causes that precipitated so large and flourishing a portion of the church into a deadly schism, it is necessary to consider the relations of the bishops of Constantinople to Rome and the other great patriarchal sees, from the time when Constantine the Great placed the capital of his empire on the shores of the Bosphorus. The Bishop of Byzantium was then a suffragan of the Metropolitan of Heraclea. But when, with the presence of the emperor, the splendor and the reality of the capital had been transferred to the new Rome, the bishops of Byzantium became very important personages. They were, in fact, the ordinary medium of communication between the emperor and the other prelates of the Eastern Church. Not content with the great influence naturally arising from their vicinity to the court, they desired a style and title suitable, as they thought, to the dignity of the city of their residence. The second general council (A.D. 381) gratified their wishes by a canon which decreed that the bishops of Constantinople, _because it was the new Rome_, should have precedence over all other prelates, after the Bishop of Rome. But this council has been held to be general only in its dogmatic definitions, since, as St. Gregory the Great[177] says, "The Roman Church neither has received nor accepted of its decrees or acts, with the exception of its definitions against Macedonius." In point of fact, it was a local synod, neither convoked nor presided over by the holy see, and has been called oecumenical only on account of the subsequent approbation of its dogmatic decrees by the same supreme authority. Its canon about the dignity of the Bishop of Constantinople thus fell to the ground. Pope Boniface I. (A.D. 418-422) insisted on the observance of the order of dignity between the great sees established by the Council of Nice, according to which Alexandria held the second, and Antioch the third place. The same rule was adopted by Xystus III. and other pontiffs. However, the powerful prelates of the imperial city did not relinquish their ambitious views. The general council of Chalcedon (A.D. 451) passed two canons, by which it permitted any cleric who felt himself aggrieved to appeal to the see of "the imperial city, Constantinople;" and besides, enacted the celebrated twenty-eighth canon in which the unfortunate principle that afterward led to schism was more openly avowed. Having cited the canon of the first council of Constantinople, it reaffirms it. "Since the fathers have justly granted privileges to the see of ancient Rome, because it was the imperial city, for the same reason the fathers of the second general council granted equal privileges to the episcopal throne of new Rome, rightly judging that the city which is honored by the imperial presence and the senate, and enjoys equal privileges with old Rome, should in ecclesiastical matters also be equally distinguished, retaining, however, the second place;" and then confers ecclesiastical jurisdiction on the Bishop of Constantinople over the dioceses in Pontus, Asia Minor, and Thrace, and those that might afterward be "erected among the barbarians." The fathers, however, petitioned St. Leo the Great for the approval of this regulation, alleging the good of religion as their motive. But that great pontiff promptly "annulled their action by the authority of St. Peter," as contrary to the canon of Nice, remarking at the same time that ecclesiastical questions were not regulated on the same plan as secular affairs, and that the Bishop of Constantinople ought to be satisfied with the imperial privileges of his city, without disturbing church discipline, and invading the long-acknowledged rights of others. The obnoxious canon is not to be found in the most ancient and best collections, though, in practice, the bishops of Constantinople always availed themselves of the privileges it attempted to grant them.

This uncanonical usurpation gave rise to a serious controversy toward the end of the century. Acacius, Bishop of Constantinople, relying on the twenty-eighth canon of Chalcedon, interfered in the election and consecration of the patriarchs of Alexandria and Antioch. He was also accused and convicted of favoring the Eutychian heretics. For these causes he was condemned and deposed by Pope Felix III. (A.D. 484.) The oriental bishops continued, however, to retain his name in the commemoration at mass, (_sacris diptychis_,) and the popes, on this account, refused to communicate with them, until the pontificate of Hormisdas, when they submitted to the holy see, erased the obnoxious name from the sacred records, and subscribed a formula of faith, in which they professed their agreement with the synods of Ephesus and Chalcedon, condemned Acacius and others by name, acknowledged all the dogmatic epistles of St. Leo, and declared that in the apostolic see is to be found "the true and entire fulness of the Christian religion," and that those "who did not agree with the apostolic see were separated from the communion of the Catholic Church."

After this happy termination, with one exception, no serious difficulty on disciplinary questions occurred between the two sees until the time of Photius. Heresies, indeed, arose in the Eastern Church; but both parties appealed to Rome, and the Catholic prelates and people always accepted her judgment as final. The exception to which we allude occurred under the pontificate of Pelagius II. and St. Gregory the Great, and affords a striking instance of the different spirit that animated old and new Rome. In the year of our Lord 583, John, surnamed _The Faster_, was called to the see of Constantinople. Gregory, patriarch of Antioch, being accused of grave crimes, the Bishop of Constantinople convoked a synod of the whole east, and in his letters of convocation assumed the title of _oecumenical_, or universal, _patriarch_. Pope Pelagius II. promptly condemned both the usurpation of jurisdiction over the see of Antioch and the newly-assumed title, especially as John pretended to convoke a general council, thus trenching upon the rights of the apostolic see. The controversy continued under St. Gregory the Great, who exhorted the bishops of Alexandria and Antioch to resist this invasion of the rightful dignity of their sees. He refused for himself the high-sounding title, though it had been given to his predecessors by the great council of Chalcedon, choosing the humbler designation of _servant of the servants of God_, which has ever since been used by the Roman pontiffs in their official documents. Cyriacus, the immediate successor of The Faster, continued to claim the obnoxious title, until he was prohibited to do so by the Emperor Phocas. But, as all Phocas's decrees were annulled by Heraclius, the bishops of Constantinople resumed the offensive usage. It is to be remarked, however, that they always gave an explanation of the title, which showed that they did not intend to infringe on the primatial rights of the Roman see. They disclaimed any really universal jurisdiction, claiming, at most, authority over the whole east. Insufficient as such an explanation was justly held to be by the popes, it shows that even the ambitious prelates of Constantinople, greedy as they were of high titles and extended jurisdiction, never, in the early ages, dared to place themselves on an equality with the bishops of old Rome, the successors of St. Peter in the government of the universal church.

From these facts, it is also evident that the real cause of dissensions between Rome and Constantinople was not, as alleged by Protestant historians, following the lead of Mosheim, the ambition of the pontiffs of Rome, who were striving for mastery over the whole church, while the bishops of Constantinople were contending for the rightful independence of the eastern portion thereof. The supremacy of the Roman see was recognized by every general council before the election of Photius, and all of them were held in the east, composed of eastern bishops, and guided by eastern ideas and influence. The very canons which attempted to give high dignity to Constantinople, acknowledged the primacy of Rome, and asked only the second place for the capital of the eastern empire while that of Chalcedon was formally submitted to St. Leo, and his approbation asked for it. When the most illustrious prelate that ever governed New Rome, St. John Chrysostom, was unjustly treated, he appealed as a matter of right to Pope Innocent I., and his appeal was sustained. When heresy arose in the east, the orthodox bishops of Constantinople always submitted to the judgment of the holy see, and sat in councils over which its legates presided. The history of the Nestorian, Eutychian, Monothelite, and Iconoclast heresies affords the most indubitable proofs that the Eastern Church, including that of Constantinople, always admitted the supreme teaching and governing authority of the see of St. Peter.

At the same time, it is plain that a spirit was growing up which a bold, ambitious man might easily use to divide the unity of the church. The second general council affirmed a fatal principle when it wished to give Constantinople the second place among the great sees, _because it was the new Rome_. This principle was more fully and offensively developed in the twenty-eighth canon of Chalcedon. It appeared to imply that the secular dignity of Rome was the cause of its ecclesiastical primacy, which should, consequently, follow the imperial court. Not, indeed, that the fathers of either council would have admitted such a consequence. They recognized the divinely established primacy of the Roman see; but they wished to gratify the emperor of the day, and to second the desires of the powerful prelates of the imperial city, to whom many of them were doubtless indebted for substantial favors. But, unwittingly, they planted the germ of schism, which at the appointed time produced its terrible fruit. This is the reason why the pontiffs always opposed the uncanonical pretensions of the prelates of Constantinople; they defended not their own, for they were not attacked, but the rights of the sees of Alexandria and Antioch, and jealously guarded against encroachments, which they saw too well were only the forerunners of greater and more fatal usurpations. The result, deplorable as it has been, only confirms the accuracy of their foresight, and justifies their honest, fearless, incorruptible resistance.

The responsibility of the fatal step to formal schism rests upon the celebrated Photius. In the year 857, St. Ignatius had been Patriarch of Constantinople for a little more than a decade. Of austere virtue and firm character, he detested vice, and feared not to denounce it even in high places. The then reigning emperor, Michael III., is compared by Gibbon to Nero and Heliogabalus. "Like Nero, he delighted in the amusements of the theatre, and sighed to be surpassed in the accomplishments in which he should have blushed to excel.... The most skilful charioteers obtained the first place in his confidence and esteem; their merit was profusely rewarded; the emperor feasted in their houses, and presented their children at the baptismal font; and, while he applauded his own popularity, he affected to blame the cold and stately reserve of his predecessors." After saying that he was intemperate, licentious, and sanguinary, the historian adds: "But the most extraordinary feature in the character of Michael is the profane mockery of the religion of his country.... A buffoon of the court was invested in the robes of the patriarch; his twelve metropolitans, among whom the emperor was ranked, assumed their ecclesiastical garments; they used or abused the sacred vessels of the altar; and, in their bacchanalian feasts, the holy communion was administered in a nauseous compound of vinegar and mustard. Nor were these impious spectacles concealed from the city. On the day of a solemn festival, the emperor, with his bishops or buffoons, rode on asses through the streets, encountered the true patriarch at the head of his clergy, and, by their licentious shouts and obscene gestures, disordered the gravity of the Christian procession." While this promising youth was thus enjoying himself with sumptuous banquets, fast horses, and degrading shows, his uncle, the Cæsar Bardas, was the real emperor. He, too, though a man of talents and application to business, was of depraved morals, and was at length excommunicated by St. Ignatius, because he had dismissed his wife, and attempted to marry his own daughter-in-law. From that moment the licentious Cæsar determined on the ruin of the patriarch. Toward the end of the year 857, the holy man was sent into exile and imprisoned in a monastery, where he positively refused to resign his episcopal dignity. A synod of bishops was held, who, through either fear or favor, deposed Ignatius, and elected Photius in his stead.[178]