Chapter XXX: Part VI: They Sang (26)

He stopped, for I made a deprecatory gesture. What I had to say was said, and I felt our interview ought not to be prolonged. I was about to leave the terrace when he detained me.

“A moment more, madame, I beg—only one, and the last; for who knows if you will grant me another, even to bid you farewell?...”

I stopped.

“Yes,” continued he slowly, “I would like to think, as you say, that I shall be permitted to see you again some day, and sincerely be your friend. Time will pass over my head and yours. You will not always be young and beautiful. Long years will doubtless pass. To enable me to endure the present, I must look forward to the time when I shall be no longer young, and can see you again, and resume without fear the title I ought not to claim, I acknowledge, while there is any danger of profaning it. I await that day.”

It was by no means with indifference I listened to his agitated, trembling voice; but I manifested nothing outwardly, and was even able to smile, as I replied:

“It will not be necessary to wait so long as you suppose, I assure you. Long before my hair grows white, what there is good and true in your friendship will be restored to me. For before that day some one, more beautiful than I (whom it will not be difficult to find), and, moreover, worthy of you, to whom you can give your whole heart, will have effaced the remembrance of the passing fancy I have caused without intending it, but which shall not be prolonged a single instant with my consent.”

I passed by him without looking up or giving him time to reply, and returned to the drawing‐room. There I seated myself on a sofa in an obscure corner of the room, or rather, I fell on it, pale, faint, and exhausted by the effort I had made.

I did not believe a word of what I had just said to Gilbert. My duty was to send him away, and this duty was accomplished! But I by no means desired another should so soon efface my image. I said so to allay his regret and appear indifferent. I was proud of the courage I had manifested. When I compared myself with Lorenzo, I thought myself perfectly heroic, and I was about to have reason to think myself a thousand times more so.

Lando at that moment left the piano, where he had been stationed all the evening beside Teresina. The latter, it may be remarked _en passant_, had profited so well by his hints that her toilet had become irreproachable, and now added singularly to the effect of her beauty. Lando perceived it, and it was evident he also thought of my cousin’s by no means despicable dowry among her other attractions, as a possible means of abridging his exile and returning to Paris before the two years had expired. When, therefore, I saw him coming with a grave air towards the place where I was seated, I thought I was about to receive a communication I had long been prepared for. I did not suspect what he had to say concerned me much more directly than himself.

“Cousin Ginevra,” said he in a low tone, as he took a seat beside me, “I have had news from Milan.”

I started involuntarily. He did not notice it, but continued:

“News which proves I was not mistaken the other day when I told you the beautiful Faustina would take good care to avenge you. Only, I did not think it would be so soon.”

Brought back so suddenly to the most painful reality of my life, I was the more startled and confounded at what he said. Lando’s gossip was usually odious to me; but now, instead of imposing silence on him, I insisted, on the contrary, that he should conceal nothing from me.

“Well, then,” continued he, “it seems the fair Milanese, notwithstanding her _belle passion_ for Lorenzo, had never been able to console herself for being deprived of the duchess’ coronet on which she had depended. So while neglecting nothing to maintain the ascendency she had regained over him, she was not wholly indifferent to the homage of a certain potentate from the Danube who offered to share with her his principality and his millions. She was still hesitating, it seems, between ambition and love, when Lorenzo, who had some suspicion, and was on the alert, unexpectedly came upon his rival. Then there was a violent scene and high words, which ended in a challenge. They were on the point of fighting when the lady prevented the affair from going any further by declaring she would give her hand to the potentate!... So in a short time, I imagine,” continued Lando, rubbing his hands, “Donna Faustina will take her departure for the banks of the Danube. You will be delivered for ever from her, and we shall soon see Lorenzo come home in a terrible humor. But, frankly, it is good enough for him. This punishment is not the hundredth part of what he merits when he has a wife like you!”

“O merciful heaven! what a fate is mine! and what a husband I am obliged to immolate myself to!...”

Such was my first thought on hearing this account, and an hour after, when I went to my chamber, I had not yet overcome the bitterness and agitation it caused me. My temptation became stronger and more formidable than ever, and the desire again sprang up in my heart to retract the sentence I had so recently pronounced. To see him, hear him, sometimes speak to him, and meet his sympathetic glance—was all this really forbidden me? Would this be failing in my duty to the husband who had outraged me so publicly? No, no, it could not be.... No one yet knew Gilbert was to leave Naples. A line, a word, from me, would suffice to prevent his departure. The new life created by his presence would continue as if nothing had happened that ought to terminate it!... I had already seized my pen and written the word ... when suddenly there awoke in my memory the words of Livia: “Think of God, whom he has offended a thousand times more than he has you”; and afterwards these: “If you seek likewise to be released, your fall will be speedy, rapid, and terrible.”

The recollection of these words stopped me and made me shudder. I now perceived what gradations I had passed through within a month. I felt that Livia was right—should I descend from the height I had just attained, it would indeed be to fall lower than I was before, and perhaps to the lowest depths!

My sister in her quiet cell still aided me with her prayers, which doubtless augmented the increasing light in my soul. I tore up the note I had begun to write, and, again preparing myself to struggle and suffer more than ever, I calmly renewed the resolution I had been so near breaking. It seemed to me this slight victory, though it did not lessen my sadness, added to my strength, and made the jewel within gleam with a lustre somewhat brighter than before.

Another General Convention Of The Protestant Episcopal Church.

The late convention of the Protestant Episcopal Church has, we believe, disappointed everybody. With skilful care to avoid anything which might cause a rupture, the various factions of this large and respectable denomination have spoken to each other, and parted. The world is none the wiser, and we hardly think that _they_ are. High‐Churchmen have maintained their ground with smooth dignity; Low‐Churchmen have gained some points, while they have lost others; and Ritualists have hidden themselves in silence. If neither party is suited, there is the consolation that no one is pleased; and from this universal negative we presume the conclusion comes to an universal affirmative that all are pleased. We have long ago foreseen this result, and they who, arguing from the defection of Bishop Cummins, expected to hear something decisive in the way of doctrine, have learned how peace may be maintained by simply abstaining from war. The Episcopal Church has no fixed creed. Its articles of faith contradict its offices. Its various members interpret both, so that from the Babel of conflicting opinions no certain sound can be heard. Thus it has been, and thus it will be to the end. There is only one thing on which Episcopalians unite—namely, hostility to the Catholic Church. With various degrees of ignorance or honesty, they are enemies of the only body which teaches with authority, whose forms they counterfeit by sad travesties or servile imitations.

The action of this convention, as far as it concerns the interior structure of the church, which they profess to have modelled after the American Constitution, has no particular interest for the world. Some improvement may have been made in the canons, of which we can be no judges. Legislation is one of the peculiarities of our day. If it be harmless, it is looked upon as a safe use of force and nerve which, expended in another direction, might have done damage. We proceed to notice a few things which are of importance, and they are the only acts of the convention which, on the reading of the journal, strike us as of any consequence.

We are happy to be able to congratulate our friends on the rejection of the _provincial system_. With them it would have worked very badly, because a province supposes some central government and a unit in authority. When a province separates from its parent state, it becomes independent. If there be no home government, there can be no province, properly so‐called. The committee very _learnedly_ explains the constitution of the primitive church, and concludes that it would not apply to them, and could not without injury be forced upon them.

“Your committee assume that the terms ‘provincial system’ are used
in the resolution in their full ecclesiastical and primitive
sense. In the early church there were: 1. the parish; 2, the
diocese; 3, the province; 4, the patriarchate. The parish had its
priest, the diocese its bishop, the province its archbishop, the
patriarchate its patriarch. Among these, the dominant and most
active power was the province with its archbishop. Speaking
generally, we may say that it possessed the powers of this body
and of the House of Bishops, and many of the powers of our
diocesan councils. The provinces were disconnected and
independent, except as, by very slender ties, they were united in
the patriarchate. Such a system would dismember this church, and
out of this now compact, now united body create five, or seven, or
ten separate churches. The ties which may at first unite them will
grow weaker and weaker. However similar they may be at the moment
of dismemberment, at that moment the process of divergence will
begin, and it will go on until the separation will be as great as
that now existing between York and Canterbury. Those provinces now
communicate with each other only informally.

“Any institution of provinces or provincial synods, with powers
subject at all times to revocation by the General Convention,
would be useless and illusory. The provinces, if invested with
irrevocable powers, and discharged from the constant and necessary
authority and supervision of the General Convention, certainly
might, and probably would, soon diverge into widely differing
practices and opinions, engendering ecclesiastical conflicts,
threatening the unity of our church.”

Nothing could be plainer than this argument. In any Protestant organization, the least separation makes an independent church. It could not be otherwise where there is no infallible authority and no divine government to bind all the members to one head. It must be sad to the lovers of primitive purity to know how imperfect the constitution of the early church was. Everything tended to disintegration, and a more perfect system has been found out by the wisdom of modern days. In the mind of the committee, the hand of God had nothing to do with the primitive church; for there is only _one_ author of confusion and disorder. These learned antiquarians never heard of the See of Rome, and do not know that our Lord said to Peter, “Thou art the rock, and on this rock will I build my church.” Viewing them, however, from their own standpoint, we are glad to note their acuteness, and to congratulate them that they have not _divided_ themselves.

It appears also that there was some disposition to consider the American Episcopal Church as a province of the English, and to treat the Archbishop of Canterbury as a kind of patriarch. This disposition was rebuked by the convention. The following are among the remarks made in the House of Deputies which show that the _quasi_ mission of the Bishop of Lichfield was fruitless:

“The right reverend gentleman who has taken so strong an interest
in this subject has made a proposition, and the proposition is
that we should become one great province, if you please, with the
Archbishop of Canterbury as metropolitan of these United States
for the nonce, and that in all these conferences the Archbishop of
Canterbury, as the great metropolitan or patriarch, is to preside.

“I know that many are wont to call the Church of England the
mother church. I hold that she is not. If so, I claim her to be
nothing but a very poor stepmother. The church in this country
never was perfected till she got her perfection by the
consecration of Seabury from the bishops of Scotland; and if we
acknowledge a mother other than the mother church of Jerusalem
(which I am not prepared to acknowledge), we must acknowledge
Scotland, not England.

“I could say a great deal more on this subject—full of it I am;
but, under the circumstances, I think I have said enough to
satisfy the members of this house that they had better let it
alone, and wait till the bishops tell us what they think of it.
They are the persons interested. They accepted the first
invitation without asking us ‘with your leave’ or ‘by your leave.’
Now, after they have been bluffed, and this church, I would say,
insulted as it has been by the Dean of Canterbury, and by the
prearrangement of keeping out the very question which these
gentlemen, at a large expense of time and money, went to attend
to, why not leave them first to express their opinion? My word for
it, from what I know of the self‐respect of the members of that
house, if you wait for that, you will wait to the end of the term.

“There are several parties to this movement, of different
temperaments. One of them is the great apostolic prelate whom we
have welcomed twice to this convention—the illustrious prelate, of
whom I speak with the most unbounded admiration as a churchman, as
a gentleman, as a historian, as a man. In every capacity in which
I can know human nature, he deserves honor and affection. I do not
enter into the motives of this movement, but I simply say that he
is affirmatively moving, in my belief, to gratify what he has
largely developed in his great nature—the power of organism. He
does wish, I have no doubt, something like an organic union of the
two churches of the two great English‐speaking races. That
movement, to a certain extent, is creditable and desirable, but to
a certain other extent it is extremely dangerous and utterly
inadmissible.”

The organic unity of the Anglican with the American Episcopal Church is as far from perfect as the union of provinces would prove if the _primitive_ system, as stated by the learned committee, were adopted. The independence of the two churches is as complete as that of the Presbyterian or Methodist denominations in this country. Neither is bound by the doctrinal decisions of the other. This being the case, we hardly understand the full significance of the ceremony by which an “alms‐basin” was presented by the General Convention to the Archbishop of Canterbury. The Bishop of Lichfield, explaining his part in the august rite, says:

“It was my happiness to present that alms‐basin to the Archbishop
of Canterbury in concert with one whose loss we all lament, who is
now with God in his rest—Bishop McIlvaine, of Ohio, who, hand‐in‐
hand with me, each of us holding the alms‐basin by one hand and on
bended knee, presented that alms‐basin for the Lord’s table in S.
Paul’s Cathedral, on the fourth of July, on that occasion.”

One of the members of the House of Deputies tells us that

“This basin was procured from the Messrs. Kirk, of the city of
Baltimore. The price of it was one thousand dollars, and it is
said to be the finest piece of work of silver and gold and
precious stones combined that has ever been made upon our
continent. It was sent through the hands of the Bishop of
Lichfield, who presented it on bended knees to the Archbishop of
Canterbury, to be placed upon the altar of S. Paul’s Cathedral;
and in this basin the bishops of the Church of England made their
own offerings first. It is understood that the basin is to be
preserved by the archbishop and transmitted to his successors, to
be used in all future times at the consecration of English bishops
and the opening of the Houses of Convocation, and upon all public
and great occasions in which the Church of England is interested,
and to be preserved as a pledge and token of unity and good‐will
between our own church and our mother Church of England.

“I may say here, too, that both Houses of Convocation, by
resolution adopted unanimously, went in their scarlet convocation
robes from their sittings in the chamber near Westminster Abbey,
in solemn procession, to the celebration of the Holy Communion in
S. Paul’s Cathedral, especially to do honor to the American
Church; and in this procession Bishop McIlvaine and the Lord
Bishop of Lichfield carried our basin, and it was presented to the
Archbishop of Canterbury in form.”

Why did these prelates _kneel_ to the archbishop on this occasion, unless to do him homage? And what function does an “alms‐basin” discharge in the consecration of bishops and the opening of the Houses of Convocation? We ask in all sincerity, because our knowledge of ecclesiology is imperfect in reference to these points.

While we praise the manly spirit of our American friends in not yielding to the spirit of toadyism before English prelacy, we confess we are somewhat pained at a seeming want of self‐respect in their attempt to deal with the “Holy Orthodox Eastern Church.” This body, though having valid orders, holds all the doctrines condemned by the Thirty‐nine Articles, and has plainly and openly anathematized Protestantism. Why will the Episcopalians consent to be snubbed and slapped in the face for the sake of an intercommunion which is utterly impossible? If _they_ like it, we ought not to repine; yet, for the sake of our manhood, we protest against it. The Rev. Dr. Fulton, of Alabama, said:

“There is a great body of Christian people, constituting one of
the three great bodies of the Holy Catholic Church, throughout the
world, which to‐day are not in visible communion, although they
are in unity of spirit, and hope for a more clearly‐defined bond
of peace. Hitherto it has only been possible for these various
bodies, or at least two of them—that is to say, the Anglican
Church and the Holy Orthodox Eastern Church—to meet each other in
courtesy. Now, arrangements have been made through the Archbishop
of Canterbury by which the dead of our communion from England or
this country can be buried by the Orthodox clergy, and other
offices of courtesy and kindness can be performed. The Archbishop
of Syra, representing the Holy Orthodox Eastern Church, lately
visited the Church of England, and was there received with the
greatest honor. Prelates of our own church and clergy of lower
degree have likewise been received by the Eastern clergy. There
are, in this city, with the approbation of the bishop of the
diocese clergy of the Holy Orthodox Eastern communion. It is
believed—in fact, it is known—that they are present now in this
house; and, as a member of the Russo‐Greek Committee, it was
suggested to me that, in the general recognition of the clerical
rank and character which these resolutions imply, these brethren
should be likewise recognized. It touches not at all the doctrine
of their churches; it touches not at all the doctrines of their
church; it touches not at all their attitude toward us; it simply
recognizes that they are clergy of a church toward which we hope
that, in the providence of God, we may be drawn in love, without
any sacrifice of our own principles.”

We doubt not that, when gentlemen meet, they treat each other with courtesy. Even Roman Catholic, whom Dr. Fulton would not invite to the convention, are courteous and polite. But this does not mean any compromise in questions of doctrine. If Dr. Potter approves of the presence of Rev. Mr. Bjerring in New York, we are quite sure that the Russian priest never dreams of acknowledging his authority. Is it not very much beneath the dignity of a large and respectable body to take mere politeness for any approach to unity in faith or communion? A letter of the Metropolitan of St. Petersburg was handed round among the deputies as a curiosity and a wonderful sign of Eastern favor to the Protestant Episcopal Church. We are not sure if the following is an exact copy of the letter. If so, it is a gentle rebuke, given as politely as could be done under the circumstances. We extract the letter and the comments thereon from a secular paper generally trustworthy:

“The Convention’s Proposition Spurned By Orthodox Catholics.

“Apropos of the efforts of the Protestant Episcopal Church for a
closer union and affiliation with the Orthodox Eastern Church, the
following letter, translated from the _Birzheviga Vedomosty_, a
Russian journal of a semi‐official ecclesiastical status, will be
interesting. It is a reply to the petition of the Protestant
Episcopal Church for a more intimate union with the Russo‐Greek
Church, and is now for the first time published on this continent:

“ ‘TO THE WELL‐BELOVED IN CHRIST, AND THE RIGHT REVEREND COMMITTEE
OF THE HOUSE OF BISHOPS OF THE PROTESTANT EPISCOPAL CHURCH IN THE
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA:

“ ‘Your letter, addressed to his Excellency the Procurator
General, Count Tolstoy, having been presented by him to the
consideration of the Most Holy Governing Synod of Russia, together
with the report and the concurrence of the House of Bishops,
approved by the House of Clerical and Lay Deputies, in reference
to the establishment upon a true catholic basis of a spiritual
fraternity between the American and Orthodox Churches, especially
in the Territory of Alaska, was received by the Most Holy Synod of
all the Russias with the utmost pleasure, as a new proof of
respect shown by the representatives of the Episcopal Church, and
of their estimable purpose concerning the union of the churches.
The Most Holy Synod, on their part, will make it an object of
their constant care that a spirit of Christian tolerance and
fraternal love and esteem, in accordance with the precepts and
usages of our church, shall continue to pervade all the relations
existing between the members of the Orthodox Church and those of
the Protestant Episcopal Church in America, and particularly in
the Territory of Alaska.

“ ‘As to the hypothesis of a reciprocal participation in the
solemn performance of the sacrament of the Eucharist, the Eastern
Church firmly adheres to the principles and convictions so clearly
stated in the messages sent in 1723 by the Orthodox patriarchs of
the East in reply to the Anglican bishops. It considers a previous
agreement in faith as absolutely indispensable to the practical
mutual participation in the sacraments, inasmuch as the first is
the only possible ground‐work or basis for the last. In order to
attain this most desired end, a thorough study and investigation
of the differences in the doctrine of both churches would be
absolutely requisite; and to promote this, a great principle of
co‐operation will undoubtedly be found in the spirit of peace and
charity which animates both churches, the Orthodox as well as the
American, and in those prayers for the peace of the whole world
and for the union of the holy churches of the Lord which arise to
the God of truth and mercy from the Orthodox churches, and which
are most certainly shared in by the American churches.

“ ‘Having been authorized by the Most Holy Governing Synod, I
assume the duty of presenting their answer to the House of Bishops
of the American Episcopal Church, and beg you to accept the
assurance of the highest esteem of your brother and co‐servant in
Jesus Christ.

ISIDORE,

“ ‘First Presiding Member of the Governing Synod of all the
Russias, and Metropolitan of Novgorod and St. Petersburg.’

“The only ecclesiastical representative of the Russian Church in
this city, the Rev. N. Bjerring, has corroborated the facts set
forth in this letter, and furthermore stated to the writer, in
answer to inquiries, that the Orthodox Church seeks not exclusive
affiliation with the Anglican and American Episcopal Churches, but
desires to hold friendly relations with all Christian
denominations; and in this spirit of fraternal love he receives in
his own house, as personal friends, not only members of his own
household of faith, but ministers and members of the Lutheran and
Reformed Churches, Methodists, Baptists, Episcopalians, and Roman
Catholics, with all of whom he maintains the most cordial
relations. But he declares that there can be no such thing as
sacramental union between his church and any other, unless there
shall have been first complete agreement in dogmas and an
unconditional acceptance on the part of the affiliating churches
of the authority and acts of the first seven Œcumenical Councils.
This is a _conditio sine quâ non_ from which the Russian Church
cannot move a step nor deviate one line from the dogmatic truth
handed down to her from the apostolic church; nor can she at the
same time permit anything to be added to these dogmas.”

The Eastern churches will never recognize the Episcopalians as anything but a sect of Protestants. They deny the validity of their orders, and condemn their articles of faith as heretical. Not one of their bishops or priests would be recognized as possessing any sacerdotal power, or could ever receive Holy Communion at the hands of the Greeks, whom they are inclined to receive with so much favor.

The following words of one of their leading agents in England are sufficiently decisive, though we fear not plain enough to convince our brethren who are so sensitive about their apostolic succession, which every one denies but themselves:

“No other Protestant church was ever so full of contradictions, so full of variegated heresy, as the English Church was and is, and will be to the end of her existence. With _such an heretical church_ the Orthodox Eastern Church never would allow her bishops to transact.

“If Rome considered all ordinations by Parker and his successors—_i.e._, the whole present English episcopate and clergy—to be invalid, null, and void, and consistently re‐ordained all those converts who wished and were fit for orders, the Eastern Church can but imitate her proceedings, as both follow, in this point, the same principles.

“The Anglo‐Catholics are _most decidedly_ no Catholics, but Protestants, although inclining hopefully towards Catholicism. It is astonishing how the zealous Intercommunionists dive into the depths of orthodox learning, rove in the remotest districts, compile the minutest arguments, while they overlook the _chasm at their feet_. They most ingenuously demand to dispense with ceremony, and to join hands all at once over _the vast deep_ stretching out between them.”(107)

Very little has been done by this convention in the way of doctrinal decisions. The House of Bishops having solemnly declared that in baptismal regeneration, as the term is used in the Prayer‐Book, no _moral change_ is signified, the effort to drop the term altogether was voted down. Thus, in harmony with the customs of this church, a term is retained which has no real significance. Those who object to it can only console themselves by the conviction that it means nothing.

A former convention had quite plainly denied the real presence of Christ in the Holy Eucharist, and hence the condemnation of any adoration of the sacrament is quite natural. We are not certain that the Ritualists will see anything to startle them. They would hardly hear any voice, however loud it might be. Yet we think the rest of the world will be satisfied that no adoration can be paid to the _elements_ of the Protestant Episcopal communion, for the reason that they are in their very nature and substance, and that Christ is not in them. An important canon on ritual was passed bearing chiefly on this subject. As it first received the votes of the House of Deputies, it condemned “the use of incense; the placing, carrying, or retaining a crucifix in any part of the place of public worship; the elevation of the elements in the Holy Communion in such manner as to expose them to the view of the people, as objects towards which adoration is to be made; and any act of adoration of or towards the elements, such as bowings, prostrations, or genuflections.” As amended by the House of Bishops, and afterwards passed by both houses, the use of incense and of the crucifix is not forbidden. One deputy explained that the Greek Church is in the habit of using incense, and that the Lutherans retain the crucifix. Perhaps these may be among the reasons for the action of the bishops. We conclude that while the crucifix may be placed in the church, and incense be used at the will of ministers or their people, no act of adoration can be allowed towards the Eucharist. The force of this canon will depend much upon the disposition of the bishop, who can wink at these observances or fail to know anything of them. The law, however, obliges him to examine the matter if any two of his presbyters complain, and, referring the subject to his standing committee, to admonish the offending minister. And if the minister disregard this admonition, he must be tried for a breach of his ordination vow. If this canon means anything at all, it will put a stop to all the practices of the Ritualists by which they endeavor to imitate the beauty of Catholic worship, and their whole ceremonial is at once excluded from any Episcopal church. Let us see if this law will be either respected or obeyed.

The rejection of Rev. Dr. Seymour, elected to the bishopric of Illinois, is a still further condemnation of any Eucharistic adoration. For chiefly for this adoration, which he was supposed to favor, was he refused the vote of the clerical and lay deputies. The majority against him was so great that hardly any one can doubt of the mind of the convention. He had been involved in the Confraternity of the Blessed Sacrament, either directly or indirectly, and this fact alone was sufficient to cause his rejection. It seems to us pretty evident that the Episcopal Church by her highest authority has denied both baptismal regeneration and the real presence of Christ in the Eucharist. Yet this denial will have little effect, because all Episcopalians will think as they please, and no doctrinal decision influences their faith. Creeds are with them written on paper, and have no further value. One would naturally expect the believers in these rather important doctrines to forsake a church which condemns them. But few will do so. They will talk of the primitive days and the hopes of better times, when the “three branches” of the Catholic Church shall come together. Until that time there is no authority for Anglo‐ Catholics. If the Protestant Episcopal communion should by synod deny the existence of God, we believe they would still remain in her, bearing their burden, persecuted by their own church, and with great self‐denial waiting till the truth should revive in the hopeful mother that bore them. This new species of self‐abnegation and of moral martyrdom by one’s own church is the glory of Ritualistic confessorship. They have not learned that the first duty of a true church is to teach, and that the first step in holiness is to mortify self‐will.

On the subject of education, the Protestant Episcopal Church has _nearly_ taken a step forward, and we sincerely regret that the step was only half made. The Committee on Christian Education recommended the organization of “sisterhoods” and “brotherhoods” to supply teachers. They say:

“The great want will not be met until some method of organization
be adopted, such as brotherhoods or sisterhoods, whose members
make teaching their special work, and who therefore cultivate the
teaching faculty, and acquire all the branches of useful learning,
in order to do Christ’s work for the young, under the direction
and at the call of their bishops and pastors. And while an
organized work seems to be the only one likely to meet our
necessities, and while the religious motive is the only one
powerful enough to draw men and women to such work for the best
years of their lives, it should be borne in mind that the truths
of the Gospel, and the Catholic faith, as this church hath
received the same, have strength and vitality sufficient to
furnish motive and method to such associations without
exaggerations or additions in doctrine or practice, and without
borrowing distinctive dress, nomenclature, or usages from the
Church of Rome. In some of the schools or colleges at present
belonging to us, such associations might be developed—teaching
orders—Brothers of the Christian Doctrine, Sisters of the Holy
Childhood—composed of men and women of sound judgment, moral
force, thorough education, patient and winning ways, who would ask
for no higher work than to train the minds and mould the
characters of the young in accordance with the gracious teachings
of the church, and with the sanction of, and in loyal submission
to, the authority of those who are rulers in the same.”

In accordance with this recommendation, a canon to establish “deaconesses or sisters” was reported to the convention. It, however, failed to pass, and the words of the committee stand before the world on their own merits. Though there are grave difficulties in the establishment of communities where there is no religious rule or any unity in faith, yet we would like to see this imitation of Catholic life tried among our Protestant brethren. It might do good, and gradually lead the earnest and truly self‐ denying soul to the one home of all Christian life and zeal.

It is a disappointment to us, however, that this convention has done nothing in regard to parochial schools. Some years ago the language of the Episcopalian bishops led us to think that they realized the full importance of guarding the young from the dangers of an infidel education. Colleges and academies will very poorly meet this great evil. The children most exposed are those who every day go to our public schools, where no religion can be taught, and where a non‐Christian system of instruction is equivalent to infidelity. The truth of this assertion needs no demonstration, for the facts of every day prove it, and the tide of unbelief is at our very doors.

The report of the Committee on the State of the Church dwells on some generalities, but yet admits a substantial decline during the three years past:

“But there are in these documents some facts that are not cheering
or satisfactory. In 1871 there were 448 candidates for holy
orders, and in 1874 but 301—decrease in three years, 147. In 1873
it is said there were no ordinations in 17 dioceses, and of the
whole number of candidates only 60 or 70 were able to maintain
themselves. Thus we have not only the supply of the ministry
diminished, but the fact revealed that parents of pecuniary
ability, elevated social position, and great culture, seemingly
withheld their sons from the Lord’s higher service. We have also
had our attention called to the fact that, in many instances, the
young novice is admitted to the diaconate and priesthood with such
imperfect qualification that we are forced to the conclusion that
there is great imperfection in our legislation, or they whose
office and duty call them to decide upon the qualifications of
candidates are too lenient in their admission of the applicants.”

We do not find any comparative table of communicants, but should be led to conclude that as the ministry diminishes in numbers, the members would decline in the same ratio. Perhaps a little more attention to schools and the training of the young would be advisable. If the Episcopal Church wishes to hold its own in this age and country, it will have to give more attention to the dangers of the public schools.

We do not know precisely what authority belongs to the address of the bishops at the end of the convention. It has not one word in regard to doctrine, and the allusions to any differences of opinion are so very general that no party could be offended. We do not even gather the precise meaning of the writer. We utterly fail to comprehend his idea of “the _liberty_ of Christian faith,” or understand his notion of freedom in obedience. The pastoral was evidently written to offend no one, and in this we think it must have succeeded.

There are some good words on the subject of divorce, but we can hardly tell how far they go. Those “who put away an uncongenial wife or husband,” and marry again, taking advantage of the license of the civil courts, are condemned as adulterers, unless they do so for the cause of fornication. We do not know how to explain this. Is fornication or sin before marriage a reason for divorce? Is adultery after marriage considered sufficient to break the tie of matrimony, so that a new marriage is permitted? If the bishops mean to say this, we would earnestly recommend them to study the sacred scriptures of the New Testament. Their halfway protest against civil divorce is nevertheless something to be thankful for in these days.

Now, having rehearsed all the important points which we have been able to see in the doings of this General Convention, we would ask any person of honest mind who really believes in the divinity of Jesus Christ if there is in the Protestant Episcopal community any trace of the one true church which he established. It is to be found neither in the unity of faith nor in any consciousness of sacerdotal gifts. No conception of the fundamental idea of a church has any place in her councils, and the truth of Christ’s presence in his adorable sacrament, which is the very life of his elect, is the constant object of assault. While they, against all facts and the testimony of all which they pretend to hold as the Catholic Church, assert the validity of their orders, they prove beyond all cavil that the grace of the priesthood is not theirs. For God never left that grace, even in heresy and schism, without the consciousness of its tremendous power. As a mere Protestant body, it may keep its exterior before the world. It has no interior life whatever, no heart and no soul, that we might mark it and distinguish it among the hosts of a divided Christianity. Nevertheless, there is light enough to guide the sincere to the one faith, and the plea of invincible ignorance will be a poor excuse for many in the dread day of account. Let us pray earnestly to God for these souls in the night of error. “What will it profit them to gain the world, and then to lose their souls?”

Assunta Howard. Concluded.

VI. Woman’s Influence.

“And so I have you all to myself once more; no interference from cruel guardians on your side, and none from unreasonable husbands on mine. Joking apart, Assunta darling, I think God has been very good to me to give me such a compensation for Harry’s long absence. Every trial seems to have a blessing in its train, by way of a set‐off. And you are just the very dearest of blessings.” And Mary Lee moved her chair a little nearer to her friend, by way of showing her appreciation. Assunta looked up from her work with a bright smile, as she replied:

“You are not in the least changed from the dear Mary Percival of convent days—and happy days they were, too—while I feel twenty years older than I did the day I bade you good‐by at the garden gate. But now you are mistaken. I am the one blessed, not blessing. For think what it is to me—a waif—to find awaiting me so kind a welcome and so pleasant a temporary home. God only knows what would have become of me without you.”

“Oh!” said Mary, “my only fear was that, with so many claimants for the honor, I should never succeed in carrying off the prize. I am sure, until it was decided, and I saw your trunks safely landed at my door, I looked upon Mrs. Sinclair as my deadly enemy.”

“Clara is very kind—much more so than I deserve,” said Assunta, while an expression of seriousness passed over her face; “but I should not have liked to accept her hospitality now. I think the present arrangement is more for the happiness of all parties.”

And the remembrance of a certain evening on board the steamer, when Mr. Sinclair, a married man, had dared to tell her, his wife’s friend, that she had first possessed his heart, and that his love for her was still unchanged, made her shudder now involuntarily. He must indeed have strangely forgotten himself, when, after that, he added his entreaties to those of his unsuspecting wife that she would look upon their home as hers. Assunta felt as if the word love had indeed been profaned by the lips of George Sinclair. God is love; but she knew that he would not hesitate to take even that most holy name in vain. Why then scruple to profane the attribute? However, all this was a secret, known to herself alone.

“Mrs. Sinclair must have been a lovely bride,” said Mary musingly. “But, Assunta, why did Mr. Carlisle return at once to Europe? I should think he would be tired of travelling by this time, and would like to settle down for a while on his own place. I have heard it is so beautiful.”

“The habit of travelling grows upon one,” replied Assunta. “He only returned to Maryland to attend to certain matters in regard to his sister’s property and mine. It was his intention to spend some time longer in Europe and the East.” Then, to change the subject, she continued: “But, Mary dear, when does your brother enter the seminary?”

“I do not know,” said Mrs. Lee. “I cannot understand Augustine at all. He seems just as good and earnest as ever, and yet something troubles him, I see it plainly. But he is unusually reserved with me; so that I feel a reluctance to question him. I wish you would ask him about the seminary. You can do it quite incidentally; and very likely he would tell you all about it.”

“I certainly will,” said Assunta. “He is your brother; so I almost feel as if he were mine too.”

“I do not think,” continued Mary, “that he is well. I am afraid his trip to the East may have done him more harm than good. He always protests that he is perfectly well, if I ask him; but I am sure he does not look so.”

“I have thought so myself, and I think we must look upon his case as our next duty.” And Assunta arose, as the clock struck eleven.

The opportunity to take the case in hand came much sooner than the fair conspirators had anticipated. The next afternoon, while Mrs. Lee had excused herself for a few hours, in order to pay the expected weekly visit to her mother‐in‐law, Mr. Percival joined Assunta, as she sat alone in the cosey library, finishing a garment for a poor child in whom she was already interested. Assunta noticed more than usual the paleness of the spiritual face she had always so much admired, and the weariness of its expression; but, with true feminine tact, she made no comment; only, as he seated himself beside the table, she looked up with a smile of welcome, as his sister might have done.

“Hard at work, as usual. I hope I do not interrupt you, Miss Howard?” said Mr. Percival, with an answering smile.

“Oh! no indeed. I am delighted to see you this evening. We have not had a good long talk since I came; and yet we have so many topics of mutual interest.”

Mr. Percival took from his pocket a little box, and, opening it, said:

“Miss Howard, I have ventured to bring you a souvenir of my travels, which I beg you will accept from Mary’s brother, and because of the association.”

He placed in her hand a heart‐shaped locket, plain but heavy, in the centre of which glowed a large crimson ruby, and around it were engraved the words, “Cor cordium.” Within, on one side, was a miniature painting of the Sacred Heart of Jesus; on the other side was set a tiny crucifix, carved from the olive‐wood of Gethsemani by one of the monks of Jerusalem, and which had been laid upon the altar in the Chapel of the Holy Sepulchre.

“And I prayed for you in that sacred spot most fervently, you may be sure,” said Mr. Percival.

Assunta’s eyes were still fixed upon the beautiful treasure which she held in her hand. Tears were in them, as she raised them at last, saying:

“Words are poor thanks for such a gift as this. You know, Mr. Percival, how much I shall value it. Indeed, I feel most unworthy to possess anything so precious; yet I shall accept it, as you said, from the brother of my dearest friend, who is to me truly a sister in affection.” And pressing her lips to the crystal which protected the crucifix, she carefully replaced the locket in its case.

“And so you did not forget those foolish, fanciful remarks I made by Shelley’s grave. I had not dreamed they would have dwelt in your memory so long; still less did I imagine they would inspire so beautiful a design as this, which is, of course, your own.” Then she added after a little pause: “There is one greater gift even than this that I shall ask of you one of these days. It is one of your first Masses, when, as a priest, you are privileged to offer the Holy Sacrifice.”

“Miss Howard,” exclaimed Mr. Percival, with deep emotion, “that is a subject of which I cannot even think without suffering.”

“Forgive me,” murmured Assunta, surprised beyond measure. “It was indeed unpardonable in me to pain you by speaking of that which is between yourself and God alone. My only excuse is that I thought the matter had long been settled.”

Then followed a silence, so prolonged that Assunta began to wonder what kept that manly head bowed forward upon the table. Was it confusion, was it prayer, or had he perhaps fainted? At last he suddenly looked up, and fixed those fine, earnest eyes of his full upon Assunta’s face; and even in that moment the thought struck her what pure, true eyes they were.

“Miss Howard, you are the last person on earth to whom I ought to speak on this subject, and I know not what impels me to do so now. Pray for me; for my salvation may depend upon it.”

Assunta tried to be calm, as she said gently, while she breathed a silent prayer for guidance:

“You must think of me as almost a sister.”

Mr. Percival went on:

“Even your image, true and beautiful and holy as it is, and pure as an angel’s, should never have been allowed to come between me and the God to whose special service I was inclined. But believe me, Miss Howard, never for one moment have I cherished a hope that you might be to me other than you are; only, when I have striven to rise above all human feeling, and to give myself unreservedly to him who demanded the sacrifice, God help me! you seemed to fill his place in my soul. Forgive me and pity me! I am miserably weak.”

After a moment he continued:

“Ah! Miss Howard, you know what I mean. It is only because of my own weakness that I have found the memory of you an obstacle to my advance towards the perfection to which I aspired.”

“And to which you will still aspire.” And Assunta’s voice was low and sweet, as she for the first time broke silence. “I had not dreamed of this, Mr. Percival, but I hope you will never have occasion to regret the confidence you have reposed, not in the ideal which has for a moment passed as a cloud of temptation between your soul and its high calling, but in one who, though full of faults, may yet offer you her sympathy and her prayers.”

“God bless you!” escaped from Mr. Percival’s lips.

“I am too young and inexperienced,” continued Assunta, “to give you counsel; besides, I am a woman; but, with my woman’s intuition, I think I see how all this has come about.... May I go on?”

“I beg you will; it is the sort of soul‐wound that needs probing.”

Assunta smiled. “I do not think such severe treatment will be required—only an examination, perhaps, preparatory to healing. You met me in Rome—forgive me if I speak too freely of myself—surrounded by that atmosphere of beauty and poetry which steals into the soul, because it breathes from the very centre of Catholic faith and the glory of the church militant. But when you met me, I was with those whose hearts were not open to such influences; and it was very natural that you and I should feel drawn to each other by the attraction of a common faith and hope. Do you think I could have said those foolish words, which it seems you have remembered only too well”—and she glanced at the little case in her hand—“if I had not felt that you could sympathize with my thoughts, however poorly they were expressed? Believe me, it was a certain earnestness of faith in me, which your presence drew out into somewhat too free expression and which remained in your memory as an attraction; and the devil has ingeniously made use of that little opening to insinuate some subtle poison. But his power is at an end, thank God! He has, for me, overreached his mark. The very fact that you could speak of this to me proves that the danger is already passing. O my friend! think what a poor, miserable substitute is even the greatest human happiness for the life to which God calls you. Think of the reward! Heaven is the price! However, it is the Holy Spirit, not I, that should speak to your soul. Will you not give him the opportunity? Will you not, perhaps, go into retreat? Or rather, please do not listen to me, but go to your director, and open your heart to him. I can only give you a few words of sympathy and encouragement. He can speak to you as the voice of God.”

“You do not despise me, then, for having wavered?”

“Do not say that, Mr. Percival,” exclaimed the young girl earnestly. “What saint is there that has not suffered temptation? Despise you? I envy you, rather. Think of the vocation God has given you! If it proves to be the mountain of sacrifice, and you ascend it with the cross upon your shoulders, will you not be all the better priest from your likeness to Him who was at once both priest and victim!”

“Miss Howard, pardon me, but you speak as if the lesson of Calvary were not new to you; as if you, too, knew what it is to suffer—not, as I have done, through your own weakness—God forbid! That I could never think.”

“We each of us must bear some cross,” said Assunta hastily; and then, to give a lighter turn to the conversation, she added: “I am sorry that I should have proved to be yours.”

For the first time Augustine Percival smiled, as he said:

“But if, through you, I win my crown, you will not then regret it?”

“O that crown!” exclaimed Assunta; “let us both keep it ever in sight as an incentive. The way will not then seem so long or so hard. Mr. Percival, will you see your director to‐night?”