Chapter VIII: A Startling Disclosure (6)

The superior replied that she had precisely the number required--girls who must leave the shelter of the convent in a few months, and whom she was most anxious to see provided for. The grapes were ripe, and the vintage, which was close at hand, would furnish an opportunity for a meeting between the parties. So one morning, in the cool, sweet dawn, they set out to the vineyard, the maidens conducted by a sister, the youths by one of the priests; the latter took one side and culled the grapes, while at the other side the maidens gathered up the branches and bound them into bundles. As they went they sang hymns and canticles to lighten their labor; and when the day’s task was done, they left the vineyard in two distinct bands, as they had come, and returned to their separate convents.

“Well,” said Mgr. de la Vigerie to the presiding father next day, “have the young men chosen each his maiden, and is the choice approved?”

“Alas! monseigneur, they did not even look at each other,” replied the disconsolate matchmaker. “They never raised their eyes from their work. Sister C---- and I watched them like lynxes.”

“You have brought up the children too well, my good father,” cried the archbishop in despair. “What is to be done with them now?”

“Have a little patience, my lord, and it will come in good time,” replied the father encouragingly.

Next day the two bands of maidens and youths sallied forth again to the vineyard, and so every day for a week.

Then the father came in triumph to the archbishop to announce the successful issue of the scheme. One by one the youths had plucked up courage and peeped through the tendrils of the vine, and, thanks to some magnetic sympathy, two dark eyes had been simultaneously raised to meet theirs, and they smiled at each other. A little further on the green leaves were fluttered by a whisper asking the fair one’s name; she told it, and another whisper told her his. So the flower blossomed in the thirty young hearts, and the priest and the sister who watched the gentle growth looked on delighted.

But what wily diplomatists they are, these holy missionaries! How they know the human heart, and how cunningly they can play upon it! Not a word did they say; but, feigning complete blindness to the pretty little comedy, marshalled the laborers home as if nothing had occurred to change the still current of their young lives. A month went by, and then, when the time came for the youths to leave the Orphanage, the father inquired, with seeming innocence, if they thought of marriage by and by.

The question was evaded at first shyly; then by degrees the confession came out--they had each determined to marry one of the maidens of the vineyard. The father threw up his hands in amazement, shook his head, and expressed grave doubts as to the possibility of their obtaining such a prize. These maidens were pearls worthy to be set in fine gold; they had been reared like delicate plants in the shadow of the sanctuary; their hearts were pure as lilies, guileless as the flowers of the field; they were strong in faith and adorned with all the virtues. Were poor Arab youths worthy of such wives? But, brave with the boldness of true love, the suitors answered in one voice: “We will be worthy; we will work for them and serve them faithfully; we will love them and be fathers and mothers to them! Give us the maidens of the vineyard!”

The missionary heaved a sigh, looked mightily perplexed, but promised to speak to the archbishop and see what could be done. After several solemn interviews, in which the young men were severely catechised and warned, and made to pledge themselves to strive with all their might to make the maidens happy, to treat them reverently, and serve them humbly, the archbishop undertook to intercede for them. The fair ones, being of the race of Eve, were a trifle coy at first; but soon the truth was elicited, and each confessed that, since she needs must marry some one, Ben-Aïssa, or Hassan, or Scheriff, would be less distasteful than another. So the great affair was settled, and soon came the day of the weddings. The archbishop himself was to perform the ceremony.

The fathers and sisters were afoot before sunrise, you may be sure; for what an event was this! Fifteen Christian marriages celebrated between the children of this fallen race of idolaters! And now see! the two processions are approaching the church, the bridegrooms draped in the native white burnose, with the scarlet turban on their heads; the brides clad in spotless white, a soft white veil crowned with white flowers covering them from head to foot. Slowly, with the simple majesty inherent in their race, they advance to the altar and kneel side by side before the archbishop, who stands awaiting them, robed in his gala vestments. He looks down upon the thirty young souls whom his love has brought here to the foot of the altar--the altar of the true God; thirty souls whom he has had the unspeakable joy and happiness of rescuing from misery in this life and--may he not hope?--in the next. He must speak a few words to them. He tries; but the father’s heart is too full. The tears start to his eyes and course down those careworn cheeks; he goes from one to the other, and silently presses his hands on the head of each. The marriage rite begins; the blessing of the God of Abraham is called down upon this new seed that has sprung up in the parched land of the patriarch, once so fertile in saints; the music plays, and songs of rejoicing resound on every side as the fifteen brides issue from the church with their bridegrooms.

And now do you care to follow them to their new homes, and to see where their after-life is cast? The earthly providence which has so tenderly fostered them thus far follows them still into the wide world where they have embarked.

The archbishop’s plan from the start was to found Christian villages in the desert, and to people them with these new Christians educated by the missionaries. The cost of founding a village, including the purchase of the land, the building of twenty-five huts, furnishing the inhabitants with European implements of labor, building a little church and a house for the fathers and one for the sisters, an enclosure for the cattle, a well to supply that first element of life and comfort--pure water in abundance--amounts to forty thousand francs (or say eight thousand dollars), and this only with the utmost economy. The Society for the Propagation of the Faith--that glorious institution, to which Christendom owes a debt that can only be paid in heaven--comes nobly to the assistance of Mgr. de la Vigerie. He supplies the rest himself out of the resources of his apostolic heart, so inexhaustible in its ingenious devices of charity; he prays and begs, and sends his missionaries all over the world begging.

One of them has lately come over to Paris on that most heroic of Christian enterprises--a begging tour--and has brought with him a little black boy from Timbuctoo, who had been bought and sold seven times before falling into the hands of these new masters for the sum of three hundred francs. He is not yet ten years old--a mild-faced little fellow, who, when you ask him in French if he likes the father, answers by a grin too significant to need further comment, as he turns his ebony face up to Père B---- and wriggles a little closer to him. Père B---- told us the child belonged to a man-eating tribe, and turned up the corner of his lip to show some particular formation of the teeth peculiar to that amiable race of _gourmands_. He says that the same charming docility which marks the young Arabs is observable in most of the savage tribes; they are far more susceptive and easily moulded and impressed than the children of the civilized races.

The capture and purchase of these unhappy little slaves all along the coast and in the northern parts of Africa is part of the mission which brings the fathers the greatest consolation. It is of course attended with immense risk, sometimes danger even to life; but the human merchandise which they thus obtain “is worth it all and ten times more,” the Père B---- declared emphatically, as he dilated on the fervor of these poor children’s faith and the intensity of their gratitude. The great and constant want for the carrying on of the mission is--need we mention it in this XIXth century, when we can scarcely save our own souls, much less our neighbors’, without it?--money. People say money is the root of all evil; but really, when one sees what precious immortal goods it can buy, one is tempted to declare it the root of all good. The archbishop has recently sent one of his missionaries, the Père C----, to beg in America, and we are heartily glad to hear it. A French priest, speaking about begging for good works the other day, said to the writer: “I wish I could go to America and make the round of the States with my hat in my hand. They are a delightful people to beg of. Somehow they are so sympathetic to the Catholic principle embodied in begging for our Lord that they take all the sting out of it for one; but, oh! what a bitter cud it is to chew in Europe.” We hope the good father’s experience did not represent the general one on the latter point, but is well founded as to the generous spontaneity of our American fellow-Catholics towards those who have “held out the hat” to them in the name of our blessed Lord. Sweet bond of charity! how it welds the nations together, casting its silver nets and drawing all hearts into its meshes! It matters not whether the fisher come from a near country united to us by ties of blood or clanship, or from some distant clime where the very face of man is scarce that of a brother whom we recognize; he comes in the name of our common Lord, and asks us to help in the saving of souls that cost as dear to ransom as ours. He may labor sometimes all the night, and take nothing; but the dawn comes, when he meets Jesus in the persons of those generous souls who love him and have his interests at heart, and are always ready to befriend him; and then the net is cast into deep waters, and the draught is plentiful. Can we fancy a sweeter reward to stimulate our zeal in helping the divine Mendicant who holds out his hand to us for an alms than the scene which at this moment many multitudes of these faithful souls may contemplate in imagination as they have helped to create it.

A gathering of small, low houses--huts, if you like--set in smiling patches of garden round a central building whose spire, pointing like a silent finger to the skies, tells us at once its character and destination. The time is towards sundown; the bell breaks the stillness of the desert air, and with its silvery tongue calls the villagers to prayer. The entire population, old and young, leave their work and rise obedient to the summons; the children quit their play and troop on together, while the elders follow with grave steps. The priest is kneeling before the altar, where the lamp of the sanctuary, like a throb of the Sacred Heart within the tabernacle, sheds its solemn radiance in the twilight. The father begins the evening prayer; pardon is asked for the sins and forgettings of the day, thanks are offered up for its helps and mercies, blessings are invoked on the family assembled, then on the benefactors far away. One who assisted at this idyl in the desert declares that when he heard the officiating priest call down the blessing of the Most High on “all those dear benefactors whom we do not know, but who have been kind and charitable to us”; and when the voices of the Arabs answered in unison, repeating the prayer, he felt his heart bursting with joy at the thought that he was included amongst those on whom this blessing was nightly invoked.

The Litany of Our Lady is then sung, and the assistants quietly disperse and go home. The cattle are lowing in the park. The stars, one by one, are coming out in the lovely sapphire sky. Angels are flying to many of the white huts with gifts and messages. Some are speeding afar, eastward and westward, bearing graces just granted in answer to those grateful prayers; for who can tell the power of gratitude with God, or his loving inability to resist its wishes--he who was so lavish in his thanks for the smallest act of kindness, nay, of courtesy, when he lived amongst us, and who declared that even a cup of cold water should not go without its reward?

ORIGIN AND PROGRESS OF THE MISSION OF KENTUCKY.

FROM THE FRENCH.[184]

The Diocese of Bardstown, Kentucky, is a part of that vast extent of country known in our ancient geographies by the name of Louisiana. It is situated in the centre of the United States of North America, and is bounded on the north by the Ohio, on the west by the Mississippi, on the south by the State of Tennessee, and on the east by Virginia.

When, in 1792, it was admitted into the Union as a State, its population was about seventy thousand; but it has since then increased tenfold.

About twenty poor Catholic families from Maryland, descendants of the English colonists, came here to reside in 1785, as then good land could be procured here almost for nothing.[185]

Their number rapidly increased, and in the year 1788 Father Wheelan, an Irish Franciscan, was sent to them. As they were then at war with the natives, and as this was continued until 1795, this missionary, two of his successors, and the colonists were compelled to cross the hostile country to arrive at the mission, even on reaching which their lives were sometimes exposed to imminent dangers. Besides being at a distance from a priest, they had also to struggle against poverty, heresy, and vulgar prejudices with regard to the pretended idolatry of Catholics, etc. Finally, Father Wheelan, at the expiration of two years and a half, abandoned a post so difficult to hold, without even the satisfaction of seeing a single chapel built. It was then impossible to find another missionary to succeed him, and the faithful “were afflicted because they had no shepherd” (Zach. x. 2). Finally, Holy Orders were conferred in 1793 for the first time in this part of the world, where the Catholics had but so recently suffered under the penal laws of England. The illustrious Bishop Carroll, first bishop of Baltimore, there ordained a priest, M. Badin, from Orleans, whom he then sent to Kentucky. Besides the difficulties which his predecessor met, the inexperience of the young ecclesiastic, his slight knowledge of the English language and of the habits of the country, made his task still more difficult. One can easily conceive how painful must have been the situation of a novice thus isolated and deprived of guidance in a ministry the weight of which would have been burdensome for the angels even, say the holy fathers of the church.

It is true he started from Baltimore with another French priest who was invested with the power of vicar-general. But this priest was soon discouraged by the wandering habits of the people and their style of life. Four months had scarcely elapsed when he returned to New Orleans. M. Badin was thus in sole charge of the mission during several years, which mission, since the conclusion of peace with the savage tribes, continually increased by the influx of the Catholics who came here in large numbers from Maryland and other localities.

In addition to the fatigue of travelling, to controversy with Protestants, to his pastoral solicitude, and to the frequent scruples of conscience natural to one in a situation so critical, he had to exert himself still more to form new parishes, prepare ecclesiastical establishments at suitable distances, and finally to erect churches or chapels in the different places where the Catholic population established itself. Nevertheless, by the divine mercy he obtained from time to time profitable advice through the letters which the charity of the neighboring priest, who, though at a distance of seventy miles, found means to write him. M. Rivet, formerly professor of rhetoric in the College of Limoges, in the year 1795 came to reside as _curé_ and vicar-general at Post Vincennes, on the Wabash, in Indiana.

But the respective needs of the two missions never permitted them to cross the desert in order to visit one another or to offer mutual encouragement and consolation in the Lord. Oh! how much anguish, how many prayers and tears, arise from such isolation! And did not our divine Saviour send his disciples in couples to preach the Gospel?--_misit illos binos_ (S. Luc. x.)

Finally, two priests from the Diocese of Blois--MM. Fournier and Salmon--came successively, in the years 1797 and 1799, to the rescue of the pastor and his flock.

Divine Providence rendered useful to Kentucky and to several other portions of the Diocese of Baltimore the talents and virtues of a great number of ecclesiastics whom the French Revolution threw on the shores of America. In the same year, 1799, there arrived a fourth missionary--M. Thayer, the Presbyterian minister of Boston, who was converted through the miracles of blessed Labre. At first he ridiculed this humble servant of God and the miracles which were attributed to him, but afterwards he investigated them with all the prejudices of a sectarian. He brought to bear upon them his severest criticism, and finished by becoming a Catholic at Rome, a priest at Paris, and a missionary in his own country, where he had formerly propagated error. He found himself forced to write several English works of controversy, which are lucid and deservedly appreciated. His conversion, his writings, and his sermons excited either the interest or the curiosity of all classes of society, and he hoped to serve the cause of religion in multiplying himself, if one may speak thus. He travelled over the United States, Canada, and a great part of Europe, and died, beloved and revered, at Limerick, in Ireland.

The missionaries of Kentucky are obliged to ride on horseback nearly every day of the year, and to brave often alone the solitude of the forests, the darkness of night, and the inclemency of the seasons, to minister to the sick and to visit their congregations on the appointed days.[186]

Without this exactitude it would be difficult to assemble the families scattered so far apart. M. Salmon was without doubt an excellent ecclesiastic, though but a poor horseman. His zeal induced him, on the 9th of November, 1799, to visit a distant parish where he was instructing a Protestant who has since then embraced the faith.

Being already feeble and just convalescing from a severe illness, a fall from his horse carried him to the grave in less than thirty-six hours. The accident happened towards noon at a little distance from a residence. A servant who found him half-dead in the woods went to solicit aid, which was denied him by an impious and cruel farmer, simply because the unfortunate man was a priest. It was only towards night that a good Catholic of the neighborhood--Mr. Gwynn--was informed of the fact. It must nevertheless be admitted that this farmer’s revolting conduct is in nowise American, and can but be attributed to his individual hate for the true religion. Perhaps, also, he was ignorant of the extremity to which M. Salmon was reduced. This fatal event, the departure of M. Thayer for Ireland, and the equally sudden death of M. Fournier in February, 1803, left M. Badin for about seventeen months in sole charge of the mission, then consisting of about a thousand families scattered over a space of from seven to eight hundred square miles. The death of M. Rivet, which took place in February, 1803, deprived him of the comforting letters of this friend, who expired almost in the arms of the governor of the province, whose esteem and affection he enjoyed. At this unfortunate period the nearest priest was a M. Olivier from Nantes, an elderly gentleman, who resided at a distance of one hundred and thirty miles in an Illinois village called Prairie du Rocher. Moreover, he ministered to Kaskaskia, where the Jesuits had formerly instituted a novitiate; Cahokia, St. Louis, capital of Missouri, St. Genevieve, etc., on the banks of the Mississippi. M. Richard, a zealous and pious Sulpitian, resided at the same distance at Detroit, on Lake St. Clair, in Michigan.[187]

Finally, there were then but three priests in an extent of country larger than would be France and Spain if united, and which country constitutes to-day but one diocese, called Bardstown, formed in 1808 by the reigning Pope, as will be seen in the sequel.

It is true that the most distant parishes can be visited but seldom, and it is especially in these instances that the zeal of faith and the fervor of piety are most evident.

One finds a great many persons who undertake fatiguing trips in order to fulfil their Christian duties. They are seen at times to spend the night in church, in order to make sure of having access to the sacred tribunal, where the missionaries are to be found from early dawn.

They are obliged to say, and sometimes even to chant, Mass at noon, and occasionally several hours afterwards, in order that all those who are prepared for the tribunal of Penance may also receive Holy Communion. Neither the fast, nor the late hour, nor the fatigues of the morning exempt them from instructing the people; otherwise it would never be done, as the faithful are assembled but once a day. A sermon, or at least an impromptu exhortation, on controversy, morals, or the discipline of the church, is always in order. After divine service there are the dead to be buried, the children to be baptized, marriages to be performed, etc., and then the departure for another station, which being reached the next day, the same services are to be repeated. Often it so happens that there is not one day of rest during the entire week, especially when several sick persons who live far apart are to be visited.

While the confessor is occupied with his priestly functions the catechists instruct the children and the negroes, sing canticles, and recite the rosary, etc. To in a manner fill the vacancy caused by their absence, the priests recommended public prayer in families, catechism, and nightly examination of conscience; Mass prayers, devotions of S. Bridget, the litanies, spiritual reading on Sundays and feast-days. Pious persons add to this the rosary, and their devotion to the Blessed Virgin causes them every day to recite some special prayer in her honor.

The fear of God, respect for the priesthood, or filial piety often causes good Christians to bend the knee before their fathers and mothers, their sponsors, and their priests, to ask their blessing after prayer, in the streets of the city or on the highways. English books on controversy are being rapidly multiplied, and the majority of the country-people know how to read them, and there are some persons in every congregation who really study them in order to render themselves capable of sustaining a discussion with Protestants.

By this means, as also by their piety and honesty, they assist from time to time in gaining conversions to the faith. The number of these good works greatly increased when Providence sent to us, in 1804, a new missionary, M. Nérinckx, a Flemish priest, who pursued his apostolic labors unceasingly. He instituted three monasteries, which were of great benefit in educating poor girls, either Catholics or non-Catholics. These religious women, who are called Friends of Mary at the Foot of the Cross, remind us of the days of the primitive church. Their manner of life is exceedingly laborious; they observe perpetual silence, and are almost enveloped in their veil.[188]

A short time after M. Nérinckx arrived at the mission he was followed there by a colony of Trappists, and by two pious and learned English priests of the Order of S. Dominic. The one, Father Wilson, afterwards became provincial; and Rev. Father Tuite is at present master of novices. The Trappists organized a school for gratuitous education, but failed to find among the poor Catholics of the neighborhood sufficient means to maintain this charitable institution. Father Urbain Guillet, their superior, had conceived the idea of rendering himself useful to the savages by educating their children for them, hoping in this way to facilitate their conversion.

In pursuance of this idea he formed a new establishment near Cahokia. These good religious greatly edified the country by their austerity, their silence, and their good works; but as missions were not the objects of their order, they returned to France at the Restoration. We must now speak of the natives, and by so doing gratify the very natural curiosity of our readers. The majority of the savages believe in the existence, in the spirituality, and in the unity of God, whom they style the Great Spirit, the Master of Life, or Kissernanetou. They even appear to believe somewhat in his providence; they offer him prayers, and sometimes even sacrifices according to their fashion. Here is an example, which is authentic, as it was told the author of this work by Gen. Todd, one of the leading men of Kentucky. A native, annoyed by the extreme drought, offered his pipe, or wampum, his most valuable article, to the Great Spirit; then, seated pensively on the banks of a river, he supplicated him thus: “Kissernanetou! thou knowest how highly the Indian prizes his wampum; well, then, give us rain, and I will give thee my wampum.” And as the Indian said this, he threw his pipe in the river, fully persuaded that the Great Spirit would hear his prayer. They also believe in a future state, as with their dead they bury their guns or cross-bows to enable them to hunt in the next world; also their pipe and tobacco, meat, etc. Those who were instructed by the Jesuits, although deprived of missionaries for about fifty years, still retain some idea of the true religion, as will be seen from letters of M. Olivier, from which letters we will give a few examples; the first, being dated the 16th of May, 1806, is addressed to Father Urbain Guillet; the second, dated the 6th of August, 1806; and the third, the 15th of March, 1807, were written to M. Badin:

1. “Among the savage tribes who from the time of the Jesuits (whom they called Black Gowns) had embraced Christianity and had erected churches in which the greatest regularity existed, to-day, notwithstanding I am their pastor, I do nothing but baptize their children, although among those of Post Vincennes there are some who come to confession; which leads me to think that you might procure some of their children.

2. “Since the banishment of the Jesuit fathers religion has decreased by degrees, until now there remain but a few traces which would remind one of extinct piety. I am not forgetting the desire expressed by Father Guillet, superior of the Trappists--namely, to have in his community some of the children of these savages. The chief of the nation, who is at Kaskaskia, promised to ask his brethren to send some here.

3. “The chief of those at Kaskaskia, in selling his lands to the government of the United States, required that it should build him a church; and there is a provision of 300 piastres and 100 piastres to be paid yearly to the missionary priest for seven years. Can these missions be revived? The mercy of God is great, etc.…”

Yes, the mercy of God is great, and it may be hoped that Mgr. Dubourg and his missionaries, who for some years have been living in the vicinity of the Missouri and the Mississippi, will have all desired success, which they must undoubtedly obtain if they succeed, as did the Jesuits, in procuring the assistance of the French government.

The religious of S. Dominic succeeded tolerably well in their establishments in Kentucky and Ohio.

Father Edward Fenwick, born in Maryland, had become a member of this order, and professor at the College of Bornheim, in Flanders, where he had been educated. Upon his return to his native country he spent his inheritance in founding the Convent of S. Rose and a school which is situated in Washington County. Two zealous missionaries, Father Fenwick and his nephew, Father Young, were the first to devote themselves, two years ago, to preach the faith in the State of Ohio, north of Kentucky, and three churches have already been built there.[189]

The congregations in the interior are composed of Germans, Irish, and Americans; but on the lakes that separate the United States from Canada they are formed of French colonies. In the State and on the right bank of the Ohio is situated Gallipolis, principal seat of the county of Gallia, where in 1791 some French colonists tried to establish themselves; but they were victims of a miserable speculation, and the majority of them left the country.

MM. Barrières and Badin baptized in this place about forty children in the year 1793, and then went to Kentucky. The entire village revived at the sight of these two priests, their fellow-countrymen, at the singing of the sacred canticles, and the celebration of the Holy Mysteries. In this part of America entire liberty of conscience and religion are enjoyed. One does not fear being molested if Christian burial be refused to those who have lived a scandalous life. On the contrary, it is expected that such will be the case, as it is the rule of the church; hence the increased dread of dying without the Last Sacraments. Marriages according to the Catholic rite are legal, and divorce and polygamy are unknown among Catholics.

We march in procession around our cemeteries; we erect crosses on them; we preach in the hotels and other public places, and even in Protestant churches, for want of chapels, and all the sects come in crowds. During the Mass they behave in a respectful and attentive manner--some of them even bring us their children to baptize, and entrust the education of their daughters to our religious--and sometimes we are greatly astonished to see non-Catholics undertake to defend our belief. We also meet with great respect in social life; for the Americans are very fond of the French, whose politeness and gayety they try to emulate.

They remember with pleasure and gratitude the services they received from the Martyr-King. Finally, the government of Kentucky has incorporated or commemorated French names in its institutions; hence we have Bourbon County, of which Paris is the principal town. We also find a Versailles, a Louisville, etc. In this last place we built, with the aid of the Protestants, the beautiful church of S. Louis, King of France.

Having the greatest esteem for learned men, they received the French priests with generous hospitality, and our bishops are revered by all sects. M. Carroll, formerly professor of theology among the Jesuits, bishop and finally archbishop of Baltimore, was one of the most distinguished men in America, and he was universally beloved and respected. He was consecrated in England the 15th of August, 1790. Two years afterwards he convoked a synod in Baltimore, where he was successful in assembling twenty-five priests. His modesty and his piety were as much admired as his learning. Finally, by his urbanity and his inexhaustible charity, he won all hearts, even those of the Protestant clergy.

His edifying death, mild and patient in the greatest sufferings, took place the 3d of December, 1815--the day on which the church celebrates the Feast of S. Francis Xavier, the glory of the Jesuits.

His death caused universal grief in a country where his memory has never ceased to be venerated. It is incredible how he could have been equal to all the tasks he had to accomplish, besides all the mental labor that fell to his share. He afterwards obtained from the Holy See a coadjutor, M. Neale, like himself an American and an ex-Jesuit. His Diocese embraced all the United States; and he was, moreover, administrator of the diocese of New Orleans. Our Holy Father, the Pope, has since then been entreated to create four new bishoprics--namely, Philadelphia, New York, Boston and Bardstown.[190]

M. Flaget, a Sulpitian, arrived in America with MM. David and Badin in the year 1792, and was appointed to this last-named bishopric. His humility was alarmed. He thought he neither possessed the talent nor the other qualifications necessary to fill so high a position; and for two years he persisted in his refusal, but he was finally obliged to submit to the express mandate of the Pope, and undertook the task, for which he was evidently destined by divine Providence. He is doubtless the poorest prelate of the Christian world, but he is none the less zealous and disinterested.

“Blessed is the rich man that is found without blemish; and that hath not gone after gold, nor put his trust in money, nor in treasures. Who is he, and we will praise him? for he hath done wonderful things in his life” (Ecclesiasticus xxxi. 8, 9).[191]

In a limited number of years he founded so many institutions, undertook so many voyages, underwent so much fatigue, both of mind and body, and succeeded so well in all his projects for extending the kingdom of Jesus Christ, that we must attribute his success and the diffusion of religion to the special blessing of God which accompanied him unceasingly. M. David, superior of the seminary, consecrated bishop-coadjutor the 15th of August, 1819, co-operated with him in his good works: in the founding of the seminary, which has already produced eight or ten priests; in the founding of several convents for the Sisters of S. Vincent de Paul; in the building of the cathedral of Bardstown, etc.[192]

It is in this little village, situated in the centre of the country, that the episcopal seat has been fixed. The smallest seed becomes a large tree, said our Saviour in the Gospel. This diocese embraces six large States--Tennessee, Kentucky, Ohio, Michigan, Indiana, and Illinois.[193]

In all this country, where the population, the sciences and the arts, agriculture and commerce, have in the last twenty years progressed wonderfully, fifty years ago could be seen dense forests and limitless prairies, inhabited only by wild beasts or scattered Indian tribes. But there are to-day in this diocese twenty-five priests, seven convents, two seminaries or colleges, thirty-five churches or chapels,[194] and about forty thousand Catholics out of a population of two million inhabitants of all denominations.

In all these States priests and churches are found except in Tennessee, which, owing to its great distance and other drawbacks, has been visited but four times by the oldest missionary in Kentucky. He gathered together a little flock at Knoxville, the capital. With regard to this place may these words of the prophet be fulfilled: “I will whistle for them and gather them together; I have redeemed them; and I will multiply them as they were multiplied before. And I will sow them among peoples, and from afar they shall remember me.” The bishop has been trying to establish a free school for the poor Catholics who have not made their First Communion. Half of their time is employed in cultivating the ground to defray their expenses, and the other half is devoted to reading, writing, and instructions in Christian doctrine. With fifty such schools we could renovate the entire diocese, and gather into the fold a great many souls which otherwise would be deprived of the means of salvation. Thus it is evident that what has been done is nothing in comparison with what remains to be done. Our institutions, besides the incidental and the daily expenses of the sanctuary, the voyage, etc., cost more than 300,000 francs; and the bishop, who receives but 600 francs of ecclesiastical revenue, owes more than 25,000 for his cathedral, which is not yet finished, much less decorated. Unforeseen events precluded the possibility of the subscribers making their payments; and if to-day they were forced to do so according to the rigor of the law, it would be of material injury to religion, and would produce the most baneful effect on the minds and the hearts of both Catholics and Protestants, who are also subscribers. The church in Kentucky owns some land, to be sure; but to clear this land, and then to cultivate it, laborers are lacking, and consequently this uncultivated property produces no revenue. The majority of the students, both at the seminary and the monastery, pay no board. The missionaries receive no assistance from the state; they are entirely dependent on their parishioners, who often do not even defray their travelling expenses, and perquisites are unheard of.

The spirit of religion obliges us to make a great many sacrifices and to endure innumerable privations to avoid being considered avaricious, and frequently it is necessary to make presents. Sometimes they ask us for prayer-books or books of controversy, sometimes for catechisms, rosaries, etc., etc. Moreover, when the necessary expenses for the support of two or three hundred persons[195] are calculated and contrasted with our limited resources, that they suffice seems incredible; and the mystery thereof can only be solved by referring it to that infinite Providence which feeds the birds of the air and gives to the lilies of the valley a glory more dazzling than that of Solomon.

This paternal Providence, after having accomplished such wonders, will not abandon us in our present distress. After making use of his ministers as means of operation, he will also inspire religious souls with the desire to co-operate in these good works, and crown his gifts in crowning the merits of their charity.

The writer of this notice was a witness to the greater number of events he relates--“Quod vidimus et audivimus, hoc annuntiamus vobis” (1 Joan. i.) After working twenty-five years in this mission, he returned to France to take a little rest and to solicit aid from his countrymen, according to the instructions of his bishop. Although weakened by a serious illness which he had undergone the preceding fall, and which nearly exhausted his means, he proposed, together with M. Chabrat, a missionary from the same country, to recross the ocean and undertake a journey of nearly four hundred miles to reach Kentucky, where his services are still required.

If some ecclesiastics felt themselves called to accompany him to America, they will doubtless be persuaded from the perusal of this truthful narrative that they will also have to travel the way of the cross, which we know to be the way to heaven. It will also be expedient that they procure all the books according to the ritual of Rome; theological and Biblical works in French, English, and Latin; chalices, ciboriums, crucifixes, vestments and church ornaments, altar pictures--in fact, everything relating to divine service. Surely they will be assisted through the piety of their friends and acquaintances. How many persons in France possess ecclesiastical or theological works which are not printed in America, as also sacred ornaments which are of no use to them; whereas these articles could be employed in so useful and so holy a manner in these new missions, which are in need of everything and possess nothing! We hope through the charity of pious and wealthy souls that they will generously offer to the service of God this small portion of the gifts they have received from him in abundance. Faith teaches us that he will not allow himself to be outdone in generosity, and what they sacrifice to his glory will be returned a hundred-fold. As for us, our gratitude will cause us to recommend our benefactors to the prayers of the missionaries, of the religious orders, and of the laity who are thus benefited; and we promise to celebrate a solemn Mass of thanksgiving, to which we will invite all good Christians, to whom we will suggest a general Communion to be offered to God for the same intention.

S. T. BADIN,
_American Missionary_.

PARIS, February 7, 1821, Seminary of S. Nicholas, Rue S. Victor.

_Extract of a letter from Bishop Flaget to Father Badin._

ST. ETIENNE, February 19, 1820.

BELOVED COLABORER: Probably this letter, written from a place with which you are familiar, and to which you are doubtless attached, will be handed you by Father Chabrat. I earnestly desired to be in Kentucky at the time of your departure; that which I have often said to you I repeat to-day--I have always felt strongly inclined to love you; let us love one another as brothers.

I will give you none of the diocesan details; Father Chabrat knows them as well as I do, and he will be greatly pleased to answer your numerous questions. The departure of this young man, that of Father Nérinckx, and yours cause a great void in my diocese, and leave a burden which would certainly overpower me if God, who has sustained me so far, did not continue to shower his favors upon me. I still feel all the vigor of youth to buckle on my armor. I am to take charge of Father Nérinckx’s _religieuses_, who to-day form quite a little congregation. My coadjutor will give his attention to the senior seminary and to the college, which I am to open to-morrow.

MM. Dérigaud and Coomes direct the junior seminary and the parish of St. Thomas, and their success astonishes every one. M. Abell is causing the “Barrens” to prosper. Thus, my dear friend, will the diocese be managed during your absence, while you, I hope, will make collections for our poor parishes, which are in great want. I am going to re-employ your brother, who is as pious and studious as ever, at the senior seminary in Bardstown. I earnestly desire to see him a priest, and I am sure that he is sufficiently informed either to direct the children in the boys’ school or to take charge of Father Nérinckx’ _religieuses_. Bishop Dubourg is endeavoring to have a bishop assigned to New Orleans, another to Detroit, and a third to Cincinnati. If he succeeds, I will have less extent of country to traverse, and as many opportunities as I now have of making priests.

Thus the prospects of my diocese are daily becoming more promising. Hasten to return; for God has not bestowed upon you so perfect a knowledge of the language and habits of this country to no purpose.

Accept, I beg of you, sentiments of the most sincere friendship.

BENOÎT-JOSEPH, _Bishop of Bardstown_.

BLESSED NICHOLAS VON DER FLÜE.

Of the many beautiful views from the Rigi, none seemed so determined to imprint itself on our memories during our stay at Kaltbad as that looking up the Valley of Sarnen. At whatever hour we wandered to the Känzli, early or late, in bright weather or in dull, it was all the same. Somehow the sun was always lighting up the valley; either resting placidly on its velvety pastures, shining broadly over its small lake, and making it glitter like a brilliant dewdrop amidst the encircling verdure, or, at the very least, darting shy gleams across its waters from behind the clouds which lowered on all else around. The lake of Zug was much nearer to us, lying right beneath one angle of the Rigi; but it had not the like powers of fascination. Moreover, we noticed that exactly in the same degree that Sarnen attracted the sun Zug seemed to repel it. At all events, the lasting remembrance of Zug is dark, bleak, and unfriendly; that of Sarnen, on the contrary, peaceful and sunny. It seemed, too, as though it were tenderly watched over by all its neighbors. Mt. Pilatus guards the entrance to it from Lucerne, hills enclose the valley on three sides, while above and beyond, as seen from Kaltbad, rise those giants of the Oberland which give such sublimity to these scenes, and enhance their beauty by the constant variety of their aspect.

Undoubtedly the associations connected with Sarnen had something to do with our love for it. In the village of Sachslen, on the borders of its lake, Blessed Nicholas von der Flüe was born and lived, and there his remains are now preserved.

And here, behind this promontory of the Bürgenstock, just opposite the Känzli, lies Stanz, the capital of Nidwalden--as this division of Unterwalden is now called--whither Blessed Nicholas hurried, and, by his influence with the Assembly, succeeded in saving his country from civil war.

A visit to Sachslen held a special place in the programme sketched out for us by Herr H----. There were some days, too, still to spare before the feast at Einsiedeln on the 14th; so we determined to lose no further time in making our pilgrimage to “Bruder Klaus,” as my Weggis guide and all the people hereabouts affectionately call him.

It was easy to trace the route when standing at the Känzli, and to perceive that, by crossing over to Buochs, we might drive thence to Sachslen. Dismissing, therefore, all fears of the railway descent from our minds, we started by the eleven o’clock train from Kaltbad, which it cost us many a pang to leave, with its dear little church, its lovely views, and its bright, invigorating air. Crossing then in the steamer from Vitznau to Buochs, we speedily engaged carriages to take us to Sachslen, and to bring us back from thence on the following day.

Our road led through Stanz, the home of Arnold von Winkelried, where we lingered long, although determined not to visit the Rathhaus until our return from the sanctuary of its hero. But we had two statues of Arnold to admire--one, in fact, a handsome white marble group commemorating his noble feat at Sempach, and erected by national subscription--to catch a view of Winkelried’s house in a distant meadow; to see in the church statues of “Bruder Klaus” and Konrad Scheuber--who also led a solitary life of holiness in the Engelberg valley close by, and whose highest honor it was to call himself the “Daughter’s Son” of the great hermit--to read the tablet in the mortuary chapel in memory of the four hundred and fourteen priests, women, and children who had fallen victims to the French soldiery in 1798; and to hear tales of the desolation their unbridled vengeance caused all this country. Pretty Stanz! now looking so happy, smiling, and prosperous that it is difficult to realize it ever could have been laid in ashes some seventy years ago. No district in Switzerland is more fruitful at present; cultivated like a garden, dotted over with fine timber, and making a beautiful picture backed by the Engelberg line of mountains stretching away behind.

An avenue of stately walnut-trees leads to the little port of Stanzstadt, and on the way we passed the chapel of Winkelried, where an annual fête is held, and close to which the bodies of eighteen women were found, after the fight in 1798, lying beside those of their fathers, husbands, and brothers--so completely had it then become a war _à outrance_, in defence of hearths and homes.

From Stanzstadt the road turned abruptly westward, at first along the edge of the small lake of Alpnach, the ruins of Rossberg Castle perceptible on the opposite shore--the first Austrian stronghold taken by the Rütli confederates on the memorable New Year’s morning of 1308.

Thence the hills grew lower and the landscape more pastoral than Alpine, until we reached Sarnen, above which formerly rose the castle of Landenberg, the famous imperial vogt who put out the eyes of old Anderbalben, of the Melchthal, in punishment for his son’s misdemeanors when the latter evaded his pursuit. This barbarous act was the immediate cause of the Rütli uprising; but, like all the others, the castle was taken by surprise, and Landenberg’s life was spared. The terrace where it stood is still called the Landenberg, and there the cantonal assembly has annually met since 1646. Of this spot it is that Wordsworth speaks in his desultory stanzas:

“Ne’er shall ye disgrace
Your noble birthright, ye that occupy
Your council-seats beneath the open sky
On Sarnen’s mount; there judge of fit and right,
In simple democratic majesty;
Soft breezes fanning your rough brows, the might
And purity of nature spread before your sight.”

The panorama thence is said to be magnificent, and it was easy to conceive it all-inspiring to a patriotic orator; but the evening had closed in before we crossed the Sarnen bridge, and it was hopeless to attempt the ascent thither.

Whilst Mrs. C---- was inquiring about rooms we hastened to a church near where a bell had been tolling as we entered the town. “Only a chapel,” answered an old woman; “for the Blessed Sacrament is not kept there.” But the “chapel” contained the cheering sight of troops of children saying their night prayers aloud, headed by some of their elders. The inn is a modest, clean establishment, but in any case it would have been dear to us, all the rooms being full of pictures of “Bruder Klaus” and of every incident in his life. Herr H---- had said that “no house in Obwalden is without his picture,” and this quick fulfilment of our expectations enchanted us. Instantly we stormed the _Kellnerinns_ with questions; but, alas! they were Bernese maidens, and, whether from prejudice or stolid ignorance, they only gave us the old stereotyped answer that “they were ‘Reformed,’ from the other side of the Bruning pass, and knew nothing, nor ever inquired about such matters.”

Accustomed as we had been of late to the large tourist hotels, everything seemed preternaturally quiet, when suddenly, late that evening, a deep voice sounded in the distance, advancing steadily onwards. We had scarcely time to reflect on this singular intrusion on the peaceful village when it became evident that it was that mediæval institution, “the watchman going his rounds,” which none of us ever before had an opportunity of becoming acquainted with; and as he came along the streets he distinctly sang:

“The clock has struck ten;
Put out fire and light,
Pray God and his Mother
To save and protect us!”

And constantly during the night the same appealing voice returned, merely changing the hour as time ran on.

Next morning the sun again befriended us, and Mass was “at the convent hard by,” said our hostess--“the convent of Benedictines, who teach all our girls.” And she said truly; for not only did we find their chapel crowded by the villagers, men, women, and children, while the nuns’ choir was hidden behind the altar, but High Mass was being sung at that early hour of half-past seven, with exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, ending by Benediction. Mr. C---- and George visited the Rathhaus and its portraits; but we were in feverish haste to get on to Sachslen, “two miles off,” said a peasant woman we accosted on the road, and who also said she was on her way thither to pray at the shrine of “Bruder Klaus.” Immediately after breakfast, therefore, taking leave of our comely hostess and of this capital of Obwalden, still so primitively good, although in the close vicinity of the “great world,” and feeling an increased aversion to the Bernese maidens, whose spirit is unmoved by things supernatural, we drove along the flat borders of the Sarnen lake, caught sight of the Rigi and its Känzli, and in less than half an hour found ourselves at Sachslen.