Chapter IV: We All Meet to Part (2)

Leaving Dublin, Young first made a short tour through Meath and Westmeath, returning by way of Carlow, Wexford, and Wicklow to the capital before entering on his more extensive circuit of the island. In this first excursion he at once exhibits the plan of his journal, noting down with minuteness the character of the soil, the course of the crops, the nature of the tenancy, and the condition of the people. Potatoes were the great article of culture, alternating with barley, oats, and wheat. Much of the best land was given to grazing. The average rent of the county of Westmeath, exclusive of waste, was nine shillings--including it, seven shillings; but in this, as in the other counties near Dublin, the best land let from twenty shillings to as high as thirty-five shillings sterling an acre. The rise in the price of labor for ten years was from fivepence and sevenpence to eightpence and tenpence per day, but the laborers worked harder and better. Women got eightpence a day in harvest. Lands in general were leased to Protestants for thirty-one years or three lives, but Catholics were in almost all cases at the mercy of their landlords. The law allowing Catholics to hold leases for lives was not yet passed. June 28th, he notes:

“Took the road to Summerhill, the seat of the Right Hon. H.
L. Rowley; the country cheerful and rich; and if the Irish
cabins continue like what I have seen, I shall not hesitate
to pronounce their inhabitants as well off as most English
cottagers. They are built of mud walls, eighteen inches or two
feet thick, and well thatched, which are far warmer than the
thin clay walls in England. Here are few cottars without a
cow, and some of them two, a bellyful invariably of potatoes,
and generally turf for fuel from a bog. It is true they have
not always chimneys to their cabins, the door serving for
that and window too; if their eyes are not affected with
the smoke it may be an advantage in warmth. Every cottage
swarms with poultry, and most of them have pigs. Land lets at
twenty shillings an acre, which is the average rent of the
whole county of Meath to the occupier, but if the tenures of
middlemen are included it is not above fourteen shillings.
This intermediate tenant between landlord and occupier is
very common here. The farmers are very much improved in their
circumstances since about the year 1752.”

Although we may partially agree in Arthur Young’s opinion that some amelioration was visible in the material surroundings of the Irish peasant during the quarter of a century preceding his visit, no equal concession can be made regarding his political rights. These remained absolutely nil. The comparative tranquillity that prevailed was the lethargy not the security of freedom. In a slightly altered sense might have been uttered of the whole nation what Hussey Burgh said of a year or two later, referring more particularly to the Volunteers: “Talk not to me,” he exclaimed, “of peace; it is not peace, but smothered war!”

Contrasted with this description of the cabins of the peasantry, the following account of an Irish nobleman’s country mansion in the same county one hundred years ago will be found interesting. Headfort is still one of the principal residences in that part of the country:

“July 1st: Reached Lord Bective’s in the evening through a
very fine country, particularly that part of it from which
is a prospect of his extensive woods. No person could with
more readiness give me every sort of information than his
lordship. The improvements at Headfort must be astonishing to
those who knew the place seventeen years ago, for then there
were neither building, walling, nor plantations; at present
almost everything is created necessary to form a considerable
residence. The house and offices are new-built. It is a large
plain stone edifice. The body of the house 145 feet long,
and the wings each 180. The hall is 31½ by 24, and 17 high.
The saloon of the same dimensions; on the left of which is a
dining-room 48 by 24, and 24 high. From the thickness of the
walls, I suppose it is the custom to build very substantially
here. The grounds fall agreeably in front of the house to a
winding narrow vale, which is filled with wood, where also
is a river which Lord Bective intends to enlarge. And on the
other side, the lawn spreads over a large extent, and is
everywhere bounded by large plantations. To the right the town
of Kells, picturesquely situated among groups of trees, with
a fine waving country and distant mountains; to the left, a
rich tract of cultivation. Besides these numerous plantations,
considerable mansion, and an incredible quantity of walling,
his lordship has walled in 26 acres for a garden and nursery,
and built six or seven large pineries, each 90 feet long. He
has built a farm-yard 280 feet square, surrounded with offices
of various kinds.”

July 4th, there is an entry of interest, as showing the position of Catholic tenants at that day even under the best landlords. Young was then a guest of Lord Longford’s at Packenham Hall. We give the passage in his own words, as it is a favorable index to our author’s character:

“Lord Longford carried me to Mr. Marly, an improver in the
neighborhood, who has done great things, and without the
benefit of such leases as Protestants in Ireland commonly have.
He rents 1,000 acres; at first, it was twentypence an acre;
in the next term, five shillings, or two hundred and fifty
pounds a year; and he now pays eight hundred and fifty pounds
a year for it. Almost the whole farm is mountain land; the
spontaneous growth, heath, etc.; he has improved 500 acres.…
It was with regret I heard the rent of a man who had been
so spirited an improver should be raised so exceedingly. He
merited for his life the returns of his industry. But the cruel
laws against the Roman Catholics of this country remain the
marks of illiberal barbarism. Why should not the industrious
man have a spur to his industry, whatever be his religion; and
what industry is to be expected from them in a country where
leases for lives are general among Protestants, if secluded
from terms common to every one else? What mischiefs could flow
from letting them have leases for life? None; but much good in
animating their industry. It is impossible that the prosperity
of a nation should have its natural progress where four-fifths
of the people are cut off from those advantages which are
heaped upon the domineering aristocracy of the small remainder.”

Young made many inquiries here concerning the state of the “lower” classes, and found that in some respects they were in good circumstances, in others indifferent. They had, generally speaking, plenty of potatoes, enough flax for all their linen, most of them a cow and some two, and spun wool enough for their clothes; all, a pig, and quantities of poultry. Fuel, and fish from the neighboring lakes, were also plenty.

“Reverse the medal,” says Young: “they are ill clothed, make
a wretched appearance, and, what is worse, are much oppressed
by many, who make them pay too dear for keeping a cow, horse,
etc. They have a practice also of keeping accounts with the
laborers, contriving by that means to let the poor wretches
have very little cash for their year’s work. This is a great
oppression; farmers and gentlemen keeping accounts with the
poor is a cruel abuse. So many days’ work for a cabin--so many
for a potato garden--so many for keeping a horse--and so many
for a cow, are clear accounts which a poor man can understand;
but farther it ought never to go; and when he has worked out
this, the rest ought punctually to be paid him every Saturday
night. They are much worse treated than the poor in England,
are talked to in more opprobrious terms, and otherwise very
much oppressed.”

Passing through the county Wexford, Young diverged a little from his route to visit the baronies of Forth and Bargy, the peculiar character of the people of which had always attracted the attention of tourists. They are supposed to have been completely peopled by Strongbow’s followers, and have retained a language peculiar to themselves. They had the reputation even then of being better farmers than in any other part of Ireland.

“July 12th: Sallied from my inn, which would have made a very passable castle of enchantment in the eyes of Don Quixote in search of adventures in these noted baronies, of which I had heard so much.” He did not find, however, as much difference in the husbandry as he expected, but the people appeared more comfortable. Potatoes were not the common food all the year through, as in other parts of Ireland. Barley bread and pork, herrings and oatmeal, were much used. The cabins were generally much better than any he had yet seen; larger, with two and three rooms in good order and repair, all with windows and chimneys, and little sties for their pigs and cattle. They were as well built, he says, as was common in England. The girls and women were handsomer, having better features and complexions than he saw elsewhere in Ireland. Young was a poor authority on this point, however; for he says, in the most ungallant manner, that “the women among the lower classes in general in Ireland are as ugly as the women of fashion are handsome.” A remark equally composed of truth and falsehood: a handsome Irish lass being as easily found in any townland as in any Dublin drawing-room. Young was a good man and a good farmer, but we fear in this case his cockney prejudices deceived him.

Understanding that there was a part of the barony of Shellmaleive inhabited by Quakers, rich men and good farmers, our tourist turned aside to visit them. A farmer he talked to said of them: “The Quakers be very cunning, and the d----l a bad acre of land will they hire.” This excited Young’s admiration for these sagacious Friends. He found them uncommonly industrious, and a very quiet race. They lived very comfortably and happily, and many of them were worth several hundred pounds.

Returning through Wicklow to Dublin, he passed through the Glen of the Downs and the Dargle, as we have already noticed. His description of the scenery of these noted spots is picturesquely written, but too long to quote. July 18th, he set out for the North. Leaving Drogheda, he made a visit to the Lord Chief Baron Foster at Cullen. This “great improver,” “a title,” he says, “more deserving estimation than that of a great general or great minister,” had reclaimed in twenty years a barren tract of land, containing over 5,000 acres, which, when Young visited it, was covered with corn. In conversation with him, the Chief Baron said that in his circuits through the North of Ireland he was on all occasions attentive to procuring information relative to the linen manufacture. It had been his general observation that where linen manufacture spread tillage was very bad. Thirty years before, the export of linen and yarn had been about £500,000 a year; it was then £1,200,000 to £1,500,000. In 1857, the export of linens, according to McCulloch, was £4,400,000. In 1868, there were 94 flax-spinning factories in Ireland, driving 905,525 spindles, employing about 50,000 (_vide_ I. N. Murphy’s valuable work, _Ireland--Industrial, Political, and Social_, London, 1870).

In conversation upon the “Popery” laws, Young expressed his surprise at their severity. The Chief Baron said they were severe in the letter, but were never executed. It was rarely or never, he said (he knew no instance), that a Protestant _discoverer_ got a lease by proving the lands let under two-thirds of their real value to a Catholic. But it is plain the Chief Baron took a more roseate view of the situation than it deserved; the explanation of the last-mentioned circumstance being, as we have seen in the case of Mr. Marly, already mentioned, that the landlord generally took good care to keep the rent well up to the two-thirds value. The penalties for carrying arms or reading Mass were severe, the Chief Baron admitted, but the first was never executed for merely poaching (rare clemency!), and as to the other, “Mass-houses were to be seen everywhere.” The Chief Baron did justice, Young says, to the merits of the Roman Catholics, by observing that they were in general a very sober, honest, and industrious people. Arthur Young winds up this conversation with Chief Baron Foster, however, with the following spirited remark, which shows that he had not listened in vain to the great orator of that age: “This account,” he says, “of the laws against them brought to mind an admirable expression of Mr. Burke’s in the English House of Commons: _connivance is the relaxation of slavery, not the definition of liberty_.”

The Chief Baron was of opinion that the kingdom had improved more in the last twenty years than in a century before. The great spirit began, he said, in 1749 and 1750. With regard to the emigrations, which then made so much noise in the North of Ireland, he believed they were principally idle people, who, far from being missed, benefited the country by their absence. They were generally dissenters, he said; very few Churchmen or Catholics.

Coming to Armagh, Young found the “Oak Boys” and “Steel Boys” active in that part of the country. He attributes their rise to the increase of rents and the oppression of the tithe-proctors. The manufacture of linen was at its height; the price greater, and the quantity also. A weaver earned from one shilling to one shilling and fourpence a day, a farming laborer eightpence. The women earned about threepence a day spinning, and drank tea for breakfast.

July 27th, in the evening, he reached Belfast. He gives an animated description of the town and its trade and manufactures. “The streets,” he says, “are broad and straight, and the inhabitants, amounting to about fifteen thousand, make it appear lively and busy.” The population of Belfast is now probably one hundred and twenty-five thousand. It was then already noted for its brisk foreign trade with the Baltic, Spain, France, and the West Indies. The trade with North America was greatly affected by the contumacious behavior of the “rebels.”

Thence our tourist wended his way through the North, through the mountains and moors of Donegal, and down the wild west coast of Sligo and Galway. Here he describes a wake, and the “howling” of the “keeners” “in a most horrid manner,” in a tone of alarm and amazement which would put to shame the stage “English officer” of some of our modern Irish melodramas.

Continuing his route through Clare and Limerick, he arrived at Cork September 21st. This is his description of the city one hundred years ago:

“Got to Corke in the evening, and waited on the Dean, who
received me with the most flattering attention. Corke is
one of the most populous places I have ever been in; it was
market-day, and I could scarce drive through the streets, they
were so amazingly thronged; the number is very great at all
times. I should suppose it must resemble a Dutch town, for
there are many canals in the streets, with quays before the
houses. Average of ships that entered in nineteen years, eight
hundred and seventy-two per annum. The number of people in
Corke, upon an average of three calculations, as mustered by
the clergy, by the hearth-money, and by the number of houses,
sixty-seven thousand souls, if taken before the first of
September; after that, twenty thousand increased.”

These last figures appear large. The population of Cork in 1866 was estimated at eighty thousand. Ships entered and cleared in 1859, 4,410.

From Cork, Young set out for Killarney. The lakes were already a great point of attraction for the tourist. Young was in raptures with the mingled beauty and sublimity of the scenery. His description of Glena, Mucross Abbey, Mangerton, and the other wild and beautiful features of lakes and mountain, might almost be taken for an account of their appearance within the last ten years. Of Innisfallen, he says:

“September 29th: Returning, took boat again towards Ross Isle,
and as Mucruss retires from us nothing can be more beautiful
than the spots of lawn in the terrace opening in the wood;
above it, the green hills with clumps, and the whole finishing
in the noble group of wood above the abbey, which here appears
a deep shade, and so fine a finishing one, that not a tree
should be touched.… Open Innisfallen, which at this distance
is composed of various shades, within a broken outline,
entirely different from the other islands. No pencil could
mix a happier assemblage. Land near a miserable room where
travellers dine.--Of the isle of Innisfallen it is paying no
great compliment to say it is the most beautiful in the king’s
dominions, and perhaps in Europe. It contains twenty acres of
land, and has every variety that the range of beauty, unmixed
with the sublime, can give. The general feature is that of
wood; the surface undulates into swelling hills, and sinks
into little vales; the slopes are in every direction, the
declivities die gently away, forming those slight inequalities
which are the greatest beauty of dressed grounds. The little
vallies let in views of the surrounding lake between the hills,
while the swells break the regular outline of the water, and
give to the whole an agreeable confusion. Trees of large size
and commanding figure form in some places natural arches; the
ivy mixing with the branches, and hanging across in festoons
of foliage, while on the one side the lake glitters among the
trees, and on the other a thick gloom dwells in the recesses
of the wood. These are the great features of Innisfallen.
Every circumstance of the wood, the rocks, and lawn are
characteristic, and have a beauty in the assemblage from mere
disposition.”

With the exception of the “miserable room where travellers dine,” which happily has disappeared, this is a good picture of the scene when the writer visited this lovely spot. Young elsewhere complains of the “want of accommodations and extravagant expense of strangers” visiting Killarney. The “Victoria,” the “Lake,” and other good hotels now leave no room for reproach on the first score; though the “stranger” may still feelingly recognize the point of Young’s last remark.

Moore had not yet written:

“Sweet Innisfallen long shall dwell
In memory’s dream, that sunny smile
Which o’er thee on that evening fell,
When first I saw thy fairy isle.”

From Killarney Young took the road through Limerick and Tipperary. Here he stopped at Sir William Osborne’s, near Clonmel. Always on the alert to note improvements, he here describes a scene of industry and labor which in an extended form still attracts the attention of the tourist:

“This gentleman” (Sir W. Osborne), he says, “has made a
mountain improvement which demands particular attention, being
upon a principle very different from common ones. Twelve years
ago he met a hearty-looking fellow of forty, followed by a wife
and six children in rags, who begged. Sir William questioned
him upon the scandal of a man in full health and vigor
supporting himself in such a manner. The man said he could get
no work. ‘Come along with me, I will show you a spot of land
upon which I will build a cabin for you, and if you like you
shall fix there.’ The fellow followed Sir William, who was as
good as his word; he built him a cabin, gave him five acres of
a heathy mountain, lent him four pounds to stock with, and gave
him, when he had prepared his ground, as much lime as he would
come for. The fellow flourished; he went on gradually; repaid
the four pounds, and presently became a happy little cottar: he
has at present twelve acres under cultivation, and a stock in
trade worth at least eighty pounds. The success which attended
this man in two or three years brought others, who applied for
land. And Sir William gave them as they applied. The mountain
was under lease to a tenant, who valued it so little that, upon
being reproached with not cultivating or doing something with
it, he assured Sir William that it was utterly impracticable
to do anything with it, and offered it to him without any
deduction of rent. Upon this mountain he fixed them, giving
them terms as they came determinable with the lease of the
farm. In this manner Sir William has fixed twenty-two families,
who are all upon the improving hand, the meanest growing
richer, and find themselves so well off that no consideration
will induce them to work for others, not even in harvest. Their
industry has no bounds; nor is the day long enough for the
revolution of their incessant labor.

“Too much cannot be said in praise of this undertaking. It
shows that a reflecting, penetrating landlord can scarcely move
without the power of creating opportunities to do himself and
his country service. It shows that the villany of the greatest
miscreants is all situation and circumstance; _employ_, don’t
_hang_ them. Let it not be in the slavery of the cottar system,
in which industry never meets its reward, but, by giving
property, teach the value of it; by giving them the fruits of
their labor, teach them to be laborious. All this Sir William
Osborne has done, and done it with effect, and there probably
is not an honester set of families in the county than those
which he has formed from the refuse of the Whiteboys.”

Exception will be justly taken here to the use of the word “miscreants,” of which nothing appears to show that these poor people were deserving the name, and which is probably used generally; but let it be remembered that these sentiments were written one hundred years ago, and by an Englishman who, from his position, might well be supposed to share all the prejudices of his race, and the philanthropy and love of justice which belonged to Young’s character will conspicuously appear. What a revelation of the state of the country and the condition of its native people, when a stranger utters these appalling words (to our ears) to its landlords: “_Employ_, don’t _hang_ them.”

In September, 1869, the _Times_ Commissioner in Ireland thus wrote of the great-grandchildren of these men:

“I took care to visit a tract in this neighborhood which I
expected to find especially interesting. Arthur Young tells us
how, in his day, Sir William Osborne of Newtownanner encouraged
a colony of cottiers to settle along the slopes that lead to
the Commeraghs, and how they had reclaimed this barren wild
with extraordinary energy and success. The great-grandchildren
of these very men now spread in villages along the range for
miles, and, though reduced in numbers since 1846, they still
form a considerable population. The continual labor of these
sons of the soil has carried cultivation high up the mountains,
has fenced thousands of acres and made them fruitful, has
rescued to the uses of man what had been the unprofitable
domain of nature. These people do not pay a high rent. They
are for the most part under good landlords; but I was sorry to
find this remarkable and most honorable creation of industry
was generally unprotected by a certain tenure. The tenants
with hardly a single exception declared they would be happy to
obtain leases, which, as they said truly, would ‘secure them
their own, and stir them up to renewed efforts.’”

A few years before the visit of the _Times_ Commissioner, the writer of this article passed along the same road on his way to Clonmel and Fethard, and still vividly remembers the remarkable appearance of the long range of these little holdings climbing high up the steep side of the mountains; the clustering cabins; the narrow paths winding up to them; and, higher than all, the gray masses of mist sweeping along the rocks and purple heath.

From Clonmel Arthur Young proceeded to Waterford, and thence, on the 19th of October, the wind being fair, took passage in the sailing packet, the _Countess of Tyrone_, for Milford Haven, Wales--thus bringing to an end his first and most interesting tour in Ireland.

In a subsequent volume, he relates his experiences two years later. But this second volume, though valuable, is not of the same interesting character as the first. It consists chiefly of chapters under general headings, such as Manufactures, Commerce, Population, etc. It is speculative and theorizing, and has not the freshness of particular incidents and observations. Nevertheless, it will always be consulted by the student who desires to learn from an impartial English observer the condition of Ireland one hundred years ago.

The following are the laws of discovery, as they were called, given by Young in his chapter on “Religion,” vol. ii., as in force in his day. They are given in his own words:

“1. The whole body of Roman Catholics are absolutely disarmed.

“2. They are incapacitated from purchasing land.

“3. The entails of their estate are broken.

“4. If one child abjures that religion, he inherits the whole
estate, though he is the youngest.

“5. If the son abjures the religion, the father has no power
over his estate, but becomes a pensioner upon it in favor of
such son.

“6. No Catholic can take a lease for more than 31 years.

“7. If the rent of any Catholic is less than two-thirds of the
full improved value, whoever discovers takes the benefit of the
lease.

“8. Priests who celebrate Mass must be transported; and if they
return, to be hanged.

“9. A Catholic having a horse in his possession above the value
of five pounds to forfeit the same to the discoverer.

“10. By a construction of Lord Hardwick’s they are
incapacitated from lending money on mortgage.”

“The preceding catalogue,” says Young, with grave irony, “is very imperfect. But,” he continues, “it is an exhibition of oppression fully sufficient.”

With these words may fitly be concluded a notice of Ireland one hundred years ago. Twenty years after Arthur Young wrote them, the short period of comparative peace he chronicled ended, and the pitch-cap became the emblem of English government in Ireland.

BROTHER PHILIP.

CONCLUDED.

It was reserved for Brother Philip not only to give a fresh impetus to the Institute of the Christian Schools, but also to see it acquire an additional and important title to respect by a new form of self-devotion on the fields of battle. Never had the Brothers failed to prove their loyal love of their country, but the year 1870, so terrible to France, brought out their patriotism in all its active energy.

There is no need that we should relate how, in the July of that year, Napoleon III., who was unprepared for anything, provoked King William, who was prepared for everything, it being our object to give the history of self-devotion, not to recall mistakes.

The best Christians are always the truest patriots. The heart of Brother Philip thrilled at the very name of France, and he so well knew that France could equally reckon on his Brothers that he did not even consult them before he wrote his letter of the 15th of August to the Minister of War, in which he said that they would wish to profit by the time of vacation to serve their country in another manner than they had been wont; at the same time placing at his disposal, to be turned into ambulances, all the establishments belonging to the Institute, as well as all the communal schools directed by the Brothers, who would devote themselves to the care of the sick and wounded. “The soldiers love our Brothers,” wrote the Superior, “and our Brothers love the soldiers, a large number of whom have been their pupils, and who would feel pleasure in being attended to by their former masters.… The members of my Council, the Brother Visitors, and myself will make it our duty to superintend and to encourage our Brothers in this service.” All the houses of the Christian Schools, therefore, were speedily put in readiness to receive the wounded. Some of the Brothers were left in charge of the classes. Wherever they were wanted they were to be found. We find them for the first time engaged in their new work after the engagements of the 14th, 16th, and 18th of August, which took place around Metz, where trains filled with wounded were sent by Thionville to the Ardennes and the North. Supplies of provisions were organized at Beauregard-lez-Thionville by the Brother Director of that place, for these poor sufferers, who were in want of everything; all the families of the town with eager willingness contributing their share. Thus eight trains, carrying five hundred wounded, successively received the succor so much needed. At St. Denis, the Brothers responded to the municipal vote which had just been passed for their suppression by their active zeal in the service of the _bureau de subsistence_, or provision-office. In many towns the military writings were entrusted to them. At Dieppe, being installed in the citadel, they made more than 120,000 cartridges. On the 17th of August, Brother Philip received, with the most cordial kindness, two hundred firemen of Dinan and St. Brieuc, forming part of the companies of the Côtes-du-Nord, who had hastened to the defence of Paris--himself presiding at their installation in the mother-house, and bidding them feel quite at home there, as the Brothers were the “servants of the servants of their country.” There the good Bretons remained four days, each receiving a medal of Our Blessed Lady from the Superior-General when the time came for departure. The Brothers of the _pensionnat_ of S. Marie at Quimper, during the early part of August, received more than fifteen hundred military in their dormitories, the Brothers of Aix-les-Bains, Rodez, Moulins, and Châteaubriant also affording hospitable lodging to numerous volunteers. “At one time,” said the Brother Director of Avignon, “we were distributing soup, every morning and evening, to from five hundred to seven hundred engaged volunteers, and also to a thousand zouaves who had been housed by the Brothers of the Communal Schools; we were at the same time lodging at the _pensionnat_ three hundred and sixty of the _garde mobile_; thus, in all, we had charge of about two thousand men.”

The officers and soldiers of the eighth company of _mobiles_ at Aubusson were so grateful for the kindness shown them by the Brother Director that they wished to confer on him the rank of honorary quartermaster, and decorate him with gold stripes. The Brothers at Boulay, six leagues from Metz, were the first to observe the superior quality of the enemy’s army and the severity of its discipline. A doctor of the Prussian army said to them on one occasion, “We shall conquer because we pray to God. You in France have no religion; instead of praying, you sing the _Marseillaise_. You have good soldiers, but no leaders capable of commanding: Wissembourg, Forbach, and Gravelotte[136] have proved this. Your army is without discipline, while our eight hundred thousand march as if they were one man. And then our artillery … which has hardly yet opened fire!” These words were uttered on the 25th of August, by which time the fate of France could be only too plainly foreseen. The Brothers of Verdun showed a courage equal to that of the defenders of the place. From the 24th of August to the 10th of November, they were to be seen on the ramparts succoring the wounded, carrying away the dead, working with the firemen, in the midst of the bombs, to extinguish the conflagrations, besides attending on the wounded in the ambulance of the Bishop’s house. The Brothers at Pourru-Saint-Rémy, by their courageous remonstrances, saved the little town from destruction, and also the lives of two Frenchmen whom the Prussians were about to shoot.

The same works of mercy were being carried on at Sedan amid the horrors of that fearful time--when seventy thousand men were prisoners of war, and in want of everything; when every public building, and even the church, was filled with wounded. Some of the Brothers went from door to door begging linen, mattresses, and straw, while others washed and bound up the wounds, aided the surgeons, and acted as secretaries to the poor soldiers desirous of sending news of themselves to their families.

The Brother Director at Rheims gives the following account of his visit on the 22d of September to the battle-field around Sedan: “We began by Bazeilles,” he writes, “and truly it was a heartrending spectacle. This borough of two thousand five hundred inhabitants, which I had recently seen so rich and prosperous, is entirely destroyed. The only house left standing is riddled with shot, all the rest being mere heaps of charred stones, still smoking from the scarcely extinguished burning. The field of battle was still empurpled with blood, and trampled hard like a road, while in all directions were scattered torn garments, rifled wallets, and broken weapons.”[137]

The ambulance of Rethel received, in four months, eight hundred men, many Prussians being of the number. Several of the Brothers fell ill from their excessive exertions, and from typhus, caught in the exercise of their charitable employment, the latter proving fatal in the case of Brother Bénonien. One of the Directors dying at Châlons-sur-Marne, the Prussians, in token of their respect, allowed the bells, which had been silent since the invasion of the town, to be tolled for his funeral. At Dîjon the Brothers were repeatedly insulted by a handful of demagogues, who would fain have compelled them to take arms and go to the war while they themselves staid at home; but when, soon afterwards, these same Brothers who had been derided as “lazy cowards,” were seen bearing in their arms the wounded men--whom they had on more than one occasion gone out to seek with lanterns, amid rain and mud and darkness--gently laying them in clean white beds, and attending to all their wants with the tenderest solicitude, the mockers were silenced, and their derision forgotten in the admiration of the grateful people. It was here also that, after the battle of the 30th of October, many Garibaldians who were among the wounded beheld with astonishment the calm devotedness of these “black-robes,” whom they had always been accustomed to malign. Not content with begging their pardon merely, they were exceedingly desirous that Garibaldi should award military decorations to certain of the Brothers, who would have had as strong an objection to receive the honor from such hands as the godless Italian would have had to confer it; nor did the cares lavished by these religious on his companions in arms hinder his execrations of the priests and religious orders in his proclamation of January 29, 1871.

In Belgium as well as in France the good offices of the Brothers found ample exercise. After the defeat of Gen. de Failly, more than eleven hundred exhausted and famishing soldiers, with their uniforms torn to shreds after a march of ten leagues through the woods, arrived at a late hour of the night, on the 1st of September, at the house of the Brothers at Carlsbourg, not knowing what place it was. Great was the joy of the poor fugitives at the unexpected sight of that well-known habit and those friendly faces. All were welcomed in, and their lives saved by the timely hospitality so freely accorded to their needs. The sick and wounded had already been brought in carts from the scene of the engagement, and were receiving every care under the same roof. All through the month of September this house was a centre of assistance, information, and correspondence, as well as of unbounded hospitality. At Namur the Brothers converted their house into an ambulance, and, in their work of nursing the sick and wounded, had able auxiliaries in many Christian ladies of high rank.

While the red flag was floating over the Hôtel de Ville at Lyons, and those who talked the most loudly about “the people” troubled themselves the least on their account, the Brothers of this town prepared a hundred beds in their house, and successively had charge of seven hundred soldiers, the Brother Director during all that time having to maintain a persevering resistance to the revolutionists, who no less than twelve times attempted to disperse the community. The devotion of the Brothers was characterized by a peculiar courage in the ambulance at Beaune, reserved for sufferers from the small-pox, and which none but they dared approach. At Châlons-sur-Saône they had four ambulances, in the charge of which they were aided by some nursing Sisters. Many Germans were among their wounded at Orléans and at Dreux. It was at the latter place that one of the chief medical officers of the Prussians, a very hard-hearted man, who had made himself the terror of the ambulance as well as of the town, gave orders that every French soldier, as soon as he began to recover, should be sent a prisoner to Germany; the Brothers, however, did not rest until they had so far softened him as to save their convalescents from the threatened captivity.

But we should far exceed the limits of our notice were we to follow with anything like completeness the work of the Brothers in the departments of France. The places particularized suffice as an indication of what was done in numbers more, in several of which some of the Brothers fell victims to their charity. The testimony of the medical men, in praise not only of their unwearied devotion, but also of their skill in the care of the sick and wounded, was everywhere the same. It seems scarcely credible that in several localities--at Villefranche and Niort amongst others--where they were unostentatiously carrying on these self-denying labors, the municipal councils, as if to punish them for their generosity, withdrew the annual sum which had for years past (in one case, for sixty-four years) been allowed to their schools for the expenses of administration. It frequently happened that, in opening ambulances, they did not, for that reason, discontinue their classes, those who taught in the day watching by the sick at night; giving up for the good of others their time, their repose, their comfort--all they had to give. The Committees of Succor did much, but it seemed as if without them something would have been wanting to the ambulances. For additional particulars we must refer the reader to the interesting pages of M. Poujoulat, from which we have drawn so largely. And now, having in some measure sketched the work of the Brothers in the provinces during the war, we must not leave it unnoticed in the capital.

Towards the end of November, 1870, Brother Philip, after receiving the appeal from the ambulances of the Press, issued no order to the Brothers of the communities in Paris, but simply informed them of the request that had been made him, bidding them consider it before God, and adding, “You are free to give your assistance or to withhold it.” The Brothers prayed, went to Communion, and then said to their Superior, “We are ready.” Even the young novices in the Rue Oudinot wrote to him letters of touchingly earnest entreaty to be allowed to serve with their elders. We give the following in the words of M. Poujoulat:

“On the 29th of November, at six o’clock in the morning, in
piercing cold, a hundred and fifty of the Brothers of the
Christian Schools were assembled at the extremity of the Quai
d’Orsay, near the Champ de Mars. An old man was with them in
the same habit as themselves; this was Brother Philip, his
eighty years not appearing to him any reason for staying at
home. They were awaiting the order to march. Gen. Trochu,
acting less in accordance with his own judgment than with the
imperious despatches sent from Tours and with the wishes of the
Parisians, proposed to pierce through the enemy’s lines and
join the army of the Loire. The attack having been retarded
by an overflow of the Marne, and the necessity of throwing
additional bridges across the river, the Brothers waited eight
hours for an order which never came. On the following morning,
the 30th, they were again with Brother Philip at the same post,
at the same hour, and shortly received the order to advance,
while, with profound emotion, the venerable Superior, after
seeing his ‘children,’ as he was wont to call them, depart,
returned alone to the Rue Oudinot.

“Cannonading was heard towards the southeast. The two corps
of the army, under Gens. Blanchard and Renault, had attacked
Champigny and the table-land of Villiers. The Brothers,
mounted in various vehicles, proceeded towards the barrier of
Charenton, on their way receiving many encouraging acclamations
from the people. Their work commenced on the right bank of
the Marne, which they crossed on a bridge of boats, not far
from Champigny and Villiers, amid the rattling of musketry
and the roar of heavy guns. Divided into companies of ten,
each with its surgeon, provided with litters, and wearing the
armlet marked with the Red Cross, they proceed to seek the
wounded, troubling themselves little about finding death. They
are attended by ambulance carriages, in which they place the
sufferers, who are taken to Paris by the _bateaux mouches_
(small packet-boats of the Seine). When litters are not to
be had, the Brothers themselves carry those whom they pick
up, sometimes for long distances, never seeming to think
themselves near enough to danger, because they wish to be as
near as possible to those who may be reached by the shell and
shot. They walk on tranquilly and fearlessly, the murdering
projectiles appearing to respect them. They have lifted up the
brave Gen. Renault, mortally wounded by the splinter of a bomb.

“This general, before his death, a few days afterwards, said
to the Brother Director of Montrouge: ‘I have grown gray on
battle-fields; I have seen twenty-two campaigns; but I never
saw so murderous an engagement as this.’ And it was in the
midst of this tempest of fire that the Brothers fulfilled their
charitable mission. No one could see without admiration their
delicate and intelligent care of the wounded.”

On this latter subject, M. d’Arsac writes as follows:

“They” (the Brothers) “knelt down upon the damp earth--in the
ice, in the snow, or in the mud--raising the heavy heads,
questioning the livid lips, the extinguished gaze, and, after
affording the last solace that was possible, recommencing
their difficult and perilous journey across the ball-ploughed
land, through the heaps of scattered fragments and of corpses,
amid the movements to and fro upon the field of carnage. Very
gently they lift this poor fellow, wounded in the chest,
raising him on a supple hammock of plaited straw, keeping the
head high, and placing a pillow under the shoulders, avoiding
anything like a shock.… Thus they advance with slow and even
pace never stopping for a moment to wipe their foreheads. A
woollen covering envelops the wounded man from the shoulders
downward. Often his stiffened hand still clutches his weapon
with a spasmodic grasp, … the arm hangs helplessly, and from
minute to minute a shiver runs over the torn frame. He faints,
or in a low whisper names those he loves. The Brothers quicken
their steps. The ‘Binder’ carriage is not yet there; so they
lay their burden gently down upon a mattress, in some room
transformed into an ambulance, where a number of young men, in
turned-up sleeves and aprons of operation, are in attendance.
They pour a cordial through the closed teeth of the sufferer,
complete the amputation of the all but severed limb, and do
that to save life which the enemy did to destroy it.”

The Brother Director of Montrouge gives the following account of the night which followed the battle of Champigny:

“Being stronger and more robust than the rest, I got into one
of Potin’s wagons, and returned to beat the country around
Champigny, Petit-Bry, and Tremblay. On reaching the plateau
of Noisy, where lay many wounded, uttering cries of pain and
despair, a soldier, who was cutting a piece of flesh from a
horse killed that morning, told me that the Prussians would
not allow them to be removed, and that if I went further I
should be made prisoner. I went on, notwithstanding, in the
hope of succoring these poor fellows, but presently a patrol
fire barred the way against me, and compelled me to believe
the statement of the marauding soldier. It was one o’clock
in the morning; and I went away, grieved to the heart at the
thought of those unhappy men lying there on the cold earth,
into which their life-blood was soaking, in the piercing cold,
and under the pitiless eye of an inhuman enemy. The man who
drove my conveyance was afraid, and his wearied horses refused
to go a step further; I left them therefore in the road, and,
lantern in hand, walked along the lanes, through the woods,
across the fields, but found everywhere nothing but corpses.
I called, and listened, but everywhere the only answer was
the silence of death. At last I went towards the glimmering
lights of the watch-fires of our soldiers, and learnt that on
the hill, into a house which had been left standing, several
men had been carried at nightfall; and there in fact I found
them, twenty-one in number, lying at the foot of a wall whither
they had dragged themselves from a ditch where they had been
left, and patiently waiting until some one should come to their
assistance. Happily I was soon joined here by others, who
helped me to place the wounded in different vehicles, and we
set out for Paris, where we arrived at half-past four in the
morning. After seeing them safely housed, I set out again for
Champigny, longing to know the fate of the poor creatures whose
cries had pierced my very soul, without my being able to succor
them. I hastened to the plateau of Noisy, and there found
eighty frozen corpses. Some had died in terrible contortions,
grasping the earth and tearing up the grass around them;
others, with open eyes and closed fists, appeared fierce and
threatening even in death; while others again, whose stiffened
hands were raised to heaven, announced, by the composure of
their countenances, that they had expired in calmness and
resignation, and perhaps pardoning their executioners the
physical and moral tortures they endured.”

During any suspension of arms, the Brothers buried the dead, digging long trenches in the hard and snow-covered earth, in which the corpses, in their uniforms, were laid in rows. A single day did not suffice for these interments, everything being done with order and respect. When all was ended, the falling snow soon spread one vast winding-sheet over the buried ranks, while the Brothers, having finished their sad day’s toil by torchlight, knelt down and said the _De profundis_.

Every fresh combat saw these acts of intrepid charity renewed. Brother Philip, although, on account of his advanced age, not himself on the field, was the moving spirit of the work. Daily, before the Brothers started for their labors, he multiplied his affectionate and thoughtful attentions, going from one to another during the frugal breakfast which preceded their departure, with here a word of encouragement and there of regard. He arranged and put in readiness with his own hands the meagre pittance for the day, and examined the canteens and wallets to see that nothing was wanting. His paternal countenance wore an expression of happiness and affection, not untinged with melancholy, and seemed to say, “They go forth numerous and strong, but will they all return?”

On the morning of the 21st of December, 1870, long before daybreak, Brother Philip and a hundred and fifty of his “children” were at their usual place near the Champ de Mars; others of their number, under the direction of Brother Clementis, having been sent on the previous evening to sleep at St. Denis. The roar of the cannon on this morning was terrible. It was the battle of Bourget. The Brothers, after reaching the barrier of La Villette, hastened to the points where men must have fallen, and were soon carrying the wounded in their arms to the ambulance-carriages, and returning for more, regardless of the hail of shot whistling around them. Two courageous Dominicans had joined the company led on by Brother Clementis, which was preceded by a Brother carrying the red-cross flag of the Convention of Geneva, and not attended by any soldier, when they received a charge of musketry. One of the Brothers, “Frère Nethelme,” fell mortally wounded, and was laid on the litter he was carrying for others, and taken by two of his companions to St. Denis, whither Brother Philip immediately hastened on receiving tidings of what had befallen him. Brother Nethelme was one of the masters at S. Nicolas, Rue Vaugirard, and thirty-one years of age. He lived three days of great suffering and perfect resignation, and died on Christmas Eve. His funeral took place on S. Stephen’s Day, December 26, in the Church of S. Sulpice, which was thronged with a sympathizing multitude. This death of one of their number, instead of chilling the zeal of the Brothers, kindled a fresh glow of their courageous ardor.

Other trials of a similar nature were in store for the Superior-General. When, in the midst of the bombardment of January, 1871, great havoc was made in the house of S. Nicolas by the bursting of a shell, it was with an aching heart that he beheld so many of the pupils killed or wounded, and that, a fortnight after the funeral of Brother Nethelme, he followed the young victims to their graves. This cruel bombardment on the quarters of the Luxembourg and the Invalides excited the minds of the people to vengeance, and led to the sanguinary attempt of Buzenval. Brother Philip having had notice the evening before, a hundred of the Brothers assembled in the Tuileries, from whence they started for the scene of action, and approached the park of Buzenval through a hailstorm of balls, to find the ground already strewn with wounded. The soaking in of the snow having made the land a perfect marsh, greatly increased the difficulty of their labor, but they only exerted themselves the more, astonishing those who observed them. On the 19th the Committee of the Ambulances of the Press for the second time addressed to the Superior-General its thanks and congratulations.

After the battle near Joinville-le-Pont, the Brothers had to carry the wounded a league before reaching the carriages.

In this brief sketch we can give but a very inadequate idea of the work of the Brothers, not only in collecting and housing the wounded, but also in nursing them with unwearied assiduity day and night. The ambulance at Longchamps, a long wooden building, had been organized by Dr. Ricord, the first physician in Paris, and an excellent Christian, who had obtained numerous auxiliaries from Brother Philip. One of these, Brother Exupérien, showed an extraordinary solicitude for the four hundred wounded of whom he there shared the charge. The cold was intense; there was scarcely any fuel; and food of any kind was difficult to be had. This good Brother never wearied in his constant and often far-distant search for supplies for the many and pressing necessities of the sufferers; day after day walking long distances, and often having to exercise considerable ingenuity to get even the scanty provision which his perseverance succeeded in obtaining.

Brother Philip bestowed his especial interest on the ambulance established in the Mother-house, Rue Oudinot, and which was called the ambulance of S. Maurice. The novices had been removed into the nooks and corners of the establishment, so as to give plenty of air and space to the suffering soldiers. All the Brothers in this house, young and old, devoted themselves to their sick and wounded; Brother Philip setting the example. He would go from one bed to another, contrive pleasant little surprises, and do everything that could be done to cheer the spirits of the patients as well as to afford them physical relief. The Abbé Roche, the almoner of the mother-house, exercised with the greatest prudence and kindness the priestly office in this ambulance.

On the 1st of January, 1871, one of the soldiers decorated at Champigny for bravery read aloud to Brother Philip, in the “great room,” turned into an ambulance, a “compliment,” in which he offered him, as a New Year’s gift on behalf of all, the expression of their gratitude. On the 6th, in a letter to the Superior-General from Count Sérurier, vice-president of the _Société de Secours_, and delegate of the Minister of War and of the Marine, he says: “All France is penetrated with admiration, reverence, and gratitude for the examples of patriotism and self-devotion afforded by your institute in the midst of the trials sent by Providence upon our country.”