Chapter XI: A Morning with St. Peter (4)

Yesterday we were talking on the terrace—talking about all sorts of things. The word _ideal_ was pronounced. “Who, then, can attain his ideal?” exclaimed M. de Verlhiac. “Life almost always passes away in its pursuit; an intangible phantom, it escapes us precisely at the moment when it seems within our grasp.” “It is, perhaps, because the ideal does not in reality exist on earth,” said Gertrude. “The Christian’s ideal is in heaven!” Whereupon the meditative Anna cried out: “Oh! if only the good God would make haste to put us into his beautiful heaven all together, the _south_ and the _north_! You would not feel cold up there, good friend!” “Then will the angels place us thus by families?” asked Alix timidly. “Hem! hem! the house is large,” said the doctor; “and, for my part, I see no inconvenience that this 'corner of Italy in Brittany’ would suffer by arranging itself commodiously there on high.”

At this moment Adrien took up a newspaper and read us a fulmination in verse against the centenary of Napoleon, by a writer whose independent pen “is unequalled in freedom and boldness,” according to the ideas of some. M. de V. disapproves strongly: “Cannot a man be of one party without throwing mud at the other? May not the sufferings on St. Helena, the torture more terrible than that of the Prometheus of antiquity, have been accepted by God as an expiation? How far preferable would a little Christian moderation be to all this gall so uselessly poured out into the public prints! And what do they attain, republicans or royalists, after so many words and so much trouble? Great social revolutions arrive only at the hour marked by Providence.” “At all events,” said Johanna, “it is this much-boasted printing which enables us to read so much that is good and so much that is hurtful.” “O madame! Writing, printing! What favors granted to man! What feasts for the understanding and the heart! The genius of evil has known how to draw from these admirable sources the means of perdition; what is it that man has not turned against God? But the divine mercy is greater than our offences, and the Christian’s life ought to be a perpetual _Te Deum_. Providence pours out in floods before us joys, favors, enjoyments without number, as he scatters flowers in the meadows, birds in the air, angels in space; he has given us poetry, this eternal charm of the earth:

“'Langue qui vient du Ciel, toute limpide et belle,
Et que le monde entend, mais qu’il ne parle pas.’”[11]

Footnote 11:

Language which comes from heaven, limpid and beautiful, And which the
world understands, but does not speak.

You perceive, dear Kate, that I want to make you acquainted with the doctor. But good-night.

AUGUST 22, 1869.

Well, dearest, the marriage is arranged. Let me, however, first speak to you about Picciola. She is an angel! She invariably forgets herself, and thinks only of the happiness of others. It is she who organizes our festivities. Dear, delicious child! Thérèse and Anna know not how to show her tenderness enough. I forget what day it was that Marcella said to me: “I think that now I need not be any longer uneasy about my child’s health; there has been no change since that beneficial winter.” Picciola was by me. I looked at her; her eyes shone with a singular brightness, and she said almost involuntarily, and so low that I alone heard her: “Oh! she will be no longer ill.“ Marianne was right: there is a mystery in this, and I want to know what it is. I shall question Mad; she will not resist me. I have entreated the doctor to cure her, and his answer was: “Who can arrest the flight of the bird?“ Thus all is in vain; and yet, in spite of myself, I have moments of wild hope. What a large place this child has taken possession of in my heart!

M. de V. had placed his interests in my hands; it was therefore your Georgina herself who renewed his _proposal_. At the first word Marcella, much moved, formally refused, begging me to speak to her of something else. Then we had a long explanation. This dear and excellent friend did not want to separate herself from us, out of gratitude! And she was sacrificing her heart; for the devotedness and high character of M. de V. inspire her with as much sympathy as respect. It needed all my eloquence to convince her. In accepting she secures her daughter a protector; the increase of her fortune will allow her still more latitude for the exercise of her benevolence. I know that she loves Italy, and dreams of seeing it again, which would be impossible were she to remain with us; by refusing she crushes out the life of M. de V., etc., etc.

By way of conclusion I drew her into my mother’s room, where we also found René and Edouard, and all four of us together succeeded in obtaining her _consent_. All, then, is well as regards this matter. Anna is in a state of incomparable joy, as the old books say. We are all happy at the turn affairs have taken, but each in our different degrees. And you, dear Kate? Ah! news of Ireland and again of Edith: Mary is not well. Poor Edith! Good-by, dearest; René calls me, and I must send to the post.

AUGUST 25, 1869.

Yesterday’s _fête_ was admirable, according to the doctor, who is a good judge. How impatient he is to carry off Marcella from us! The wedding is fixed for the 20th of September, and the same day the happy couple are to start for Italy. Thus I have not even a month in which to enjoy the society of this delightful friend, so truly the sister of my soul, whom God gave me almost on the grave of Ellen. I busy myself with her about the preparations. Gertrude, the austere Gertrude, sets out to-morrow for Paris with Adrien and M. de V., whom she will direct in the choice of the _corbeille_. Don’t you admire that? Marcella is calm, serious, but also, she owns to me, profoundly happy.

There will be no more meeting again, I foresee plainly; they will _cast anchor_ down there, but our spirits will be always united before God. Margaret greatly rejoices in the happiness of our dear Roman. Lord William arrived yesterday, and joyous parties are going on. The _little_ angel of the good God is always on the point of taking her flight.

_Ah! mon âme voudrait se suspendre à ses ailes
Et la garder encore!_[12]

Footnote 12:

Ah! my soul would fain cling to her wings, and keep her still!

René procures me the most agreeable surprises. There has never yet been the least shadow of a cloud between us. You say well, dearest, that with him I shall have happiness everywhere; why, then, should I have hesitated to procure a like happiness for Marcella? I did not tell you that about a year ago this dear friend lost nearly the whole of her fortune, which was in the hands of a banker? Happily, we were the first to hear of it, and have concealed the disaster. Gertrude desired to join us in this hidden good work, and I have with all my heart paid the half of the amount. I am still more glad now to have done so. Hitherto the interest has been sufficient, but, lest the secret should be discovered, Gertrude undertook to arrange the matter with her banker. As it is a considerable sum, we are selling our carriages and one of René’s farms, lest it should make too much difference to our poor; my mother is surprised, but asks no questions. We shall try to live without carriages—so many people live happily, and yet always go on foot! I am certain that you will approve of this, dear Kate. Marcella is too proud to consent to marry M. de V. without any fortune of her own. René is delighted with this arrangement; I believe that he also is in love with the poverty of St. Francis. Oh! how good God is to us! All my kisses to you.

AUGUST 28, 1869.

Read yesterday some pretty things on Montaigne. The author of the _Essays_ loved “with a particular affection” poetry, “in which it is not allowable to play the simpleton.” Marcella presented me with a charming poem on Friendship. Oh! I know very well that her warm affection is mine. Listen to this passage taken from a dramatic story which has come into Brittany: “There are redeeming souls, born for salvation. In the path of the divine Crucified One walk silent groups whose mission is to suffer for those who enjoy all the good things of life, to weep for those who sing at feasts, to pray for those who never open their lips in prayer. A large number of these mysterious flowers which perfume the King’s House are even unconscious of their destiny. They follow it, without asking what end is answered by their solitude, and to what purpose are their tears.”

You write to me too deliciously, dear Kate! It is very kind of you to ask after the two _adopted_ little girls. They have been claimed by a relation, and left us after having remained a week. This fresh eclogue could not have had a better ending. The dear children write to Picciola. They are happy; their relative gave us a most favorable impression.

Yesterday a long walk with Margaret, who loves our heaths, our fields of broom, our reedy places, our customs, and who is always ready when there is a good work to be done. My mother is not well—“The effect of old age,” she says. Would that I could keep away all pain from that dear head! Mme. Swetchine says: “All the joys of earth would not assuage our thirst for happiness, and one single sorrow suffices to fold life in a sombre veil, to strike it throughout with nothingness.” How true this is!

St. Augustine is one of René’s patrons; you may imagine whether we have not prayed to him very much. Gertrude writes to me: “Here are some lines which I commend to your meditations: 'All passes, all vanishes away, all is carried away by the river of Eternity. The most sacred and sweet affections we see broken, some by absence—that sleep of the heart—others by a culpable inconstancy; many, alas! by death. The days of our childhood, the years of our youth, the friendships begun in the cradle, the more serious attachments of riper age, the affections of home, the bonds formed at the altar—all are touched, withered, annihilated by the inexorable hand of time.’ Dear Georgina,” continues Gertrude, “all lives again, all arises from its tomb, all becomes again resplendent with God! Hope, then! _Excelsior._”

Lord William has brought us a most interesting book—_Our Life in the Highlands_, by Queen Victoria. What soul! What heart! Why is she not a Catholic? My poor Ireland, when wilt thou recover thy freedom? O Ireland! _patria mia!_

Thérèse regrets Anna’s approaching departure, but she is courageous. The _babies_ do not take it in the same way, and Marguérite told Anna plainly: “All that you may say to me is of no use. I know Italian, mademoiselle: _Chi sta bene, non si muove._”[13] I had to preach for an hour before I could persuade Marguérite to consent to apologize to the dear little Italian, who cried so much at being accused of inconstancy. These little people!

Footnote 13:

“He who is well off stays where he is.”

Good-by, dear Kate; Picciola sends you a kiss.

AUGUST 30, 1869.

I have just been telling the children the beautiful story of St. Felix and St. Adauctus, as the charming imagination of Margaret had arranged it at the convent. How they listened to me. On turning round I was taken by surprise: René was there! You know that I like to be alone when fulfilling the functions of _professor_—a title which I usurp from the good _abbé_, whose charity frequently takes him from home. “Are you displeased?” asked _my brother_. _Displeased!_ But he and I are altogether one—one and the same soul. Picciola makes profound observations thereupon. Margaret tells me that she said to her: “The soul ought in this world to be with God as Uncle René is with Aunt Georgina, and as you and Lord William.” Margaret was delighted with this comparison.

Letter from the saintly Isa; one might call it a song of heaven. “O charming felicities which I find in this paradise of intelligence and friendship, incomparable joys of the religious affections, delights of the sensible presence of Him who is my all, how dear are you to me!”

Picciola is sleeping in an easy-chair two steps from me. She seems to have scarcely a breath of life left. I questioned her as discreetly as possible; she understood immediately: “Later, aunt, I will tell you.”

What! have I not told you about my six children? The eldest has been taken as _femme de chambre_ by Margaret, the second occupies the same post for Anna, and Thérèse claims the third. The youngest go to school. Johanna wished to take charge of them, but I said, “No, thank you”; she has a family and I am free. René wants to talk business to you. I give up my sheet of paper to him. May God be with us!

SEPTEMBER 5.

Only a fortnight more to enjoy the presence of Marcella! The _travellers_ are home again. The _corbeille_ is splendid; but the pious projects of M. de V. are still more so. Did I tell you that he had been connected with M. de Clissey, in a journey the latter took to Naples? M. de C. loved Marcella then, and spoke only of her. He was on the eve of a dangerous expedition. “Promise me,” he said to M. de V., “that in case of my death you will marry her!” M. de V. promised. This is like the tales of knight-errantry. M. de Verlhiac was unable to be present at his friend’s marriage, and, as he was at that time of an adventurous turn of mind, he went away to New York and had no news of the De Clisseys. It was only on Marcella’s account that he settled temporarily at Hyères. You see, this is altogether a romance, but in the best taste possible. M. de V. told us all this after his proposal had been accepted.

All France is interested in the Council; we are praying for this intention. What times we live in, dear Kate! The church is on the eve of terrible trials, say the _seers_.

Picciola wishes to write to you; but will her poor little hand have the strength to do so? Oh! how touching she is in her serenity. She communicates with great fervor twice a week.

Lizzy, the happy Lizzy! has a son! _Gaudete et lætare!_ I rejoice in her joy! Edith is ill; Mistress Annah says seriously so. Always a shadow!

Farewell, dearest. I have quantities of things to attend to. A thousand kisses.

SEPTEMBER 10, 1869.

M. de Verlhiac overwhelms us with presents—no means of refusing them. Marcella appears very happy, although as the time of departure approaches there is an occasional shade upon her brow. The health of M. de V. cannot accommodate itself to Brittany, and the _Blue Nest_ was only a pretext. My mother is purchasing this well-named habitation, to sell it when an opportunity offers. Since we have launched out so strongly in good works, no one allows superfluities.

Gertrude saw Karl, who sighs for the day when he shall offer up at the altar the true and spotless Victim. I love what you tell me of your thoughts on seeing our sister. Ah! dearest, all that God does he does well; great sacrifices suit great souls.

My mother gives _fêtes_—to us, you understand. But what _fêtes_! What a large share is left for the poor! What a still larger part given to God! Lucy, the amiable Lucy, gives herself unheard-of trouble for our pleasures. Gertrude gracefully lends herself to our passing follies, to which her dark toilet makes a contrast. I asked her two days ago if she did not sometimes regret the luxuries to which she was accustomed. “Regret, Georgina! Listen to Ludolph the Chartreux: 'The Christian is happy, for, whatever may be his poverty, he has always in himself wherewith to buy the pearl and the treasure; no other price is asked but himself.'”

Sarah is in Spain, whence she sends me magnificent descriptions of the Pyrenees. “When will you come and gather roses on the banks of the Mancanares?” asks my lively friend.

Picciola is asking for me. You would be uneasy. May God have you in his keeping!

SEPTEMBER 18, 1869.

René has replaced me in my assiduous correspondence—I have so much to do! Will these words make you smile? Nothing, however, is more true; in our hive every bee has its share of work. M. de V. can no longer keep himself quiet; Marcella weeps at the thought of going away for ever. René mentions the possibility of our again visiting Hyères, and I want to persuade the future couple to give their solemn promise to go thither. It seems as if a part of my heart were going to leave me.

The Bishop of —— will bless the marriage. Oh! would that I could put off this date. It is so sweet to have them here, these dear friends and the charming little Anna! Good-by, Homer! Good-by, our studious hours, our intimate conversations, our so perfect friendship! _Her_ room will remain furnished just as it now is; I shall make it a museum of souvenirs. You know that I have taken the portraits of all three. They wished for copies; so you see why I was too busy to write to you. Only two days more—two days: what is that?

My mother is very thoughtful on my account. For my sake she dreads this departure, this great void; but René is at hand, so ingeniously good and devoted, so attentive, so fraternal! Dearest, pray that _they_ may be happy!

SEPTEMBER 21, 1869.

_She_ is gone! These two days have passed away like a dream. I cannot bring myself to realize this idea. Oh! what difference there is between the apprehension and the reality, from the expectation of sorrow to sorrow itself! But _she_ will be happy! How beautiful she was; Anna so graceful, and all three so affectionate! I am now counting the hours until I receive a letter. I am going to occupy myself—study with René, pray with Picciola, meditate with Gertrude. And Margaret—oh! I must make up to her all the time given to Marcella, whom she regrets almost as much as I do.

Picciola occupies me, and very much. She has felt this separation exceedingly, being very fond of Anna. Good-by till to-morrow, dear Kate; I feel myself incapable of writing.

22d.—A word from Mme. de Verlhiac—a greeting written yesterday morning in the carriage. They go farther and farther away. How could I flatter myself that I should be able to keep for myself alone these two Italian flowers? Gertrude has asked me to aid her in a singular operation: the accounts of all her farmers have to be clearly arranged. Adrien does not like these commonplace details. He found yesterday in the woods a little fellow of six years old, roguish as an elf, his hair a tangled bush, his face, hands, and feet alarmingly dirty. “Will you take charge of this child for an hour?” René asked me, as he had letters to write to his brother. What trouble I had to make the little savage clean! Margaret acted as currier; I was quite alone, dreaming of the past. This awoke me, I can assure you. When he was _white_, I went to find Johanna, who gave me a whole suit of clothes. This little wilding was the torment of his mother; we are going to tame him. As a beginning I have put him to school. He is enchanted to see himself so _fine_, and looks at himself as if he were a relic. At the same time he is greedy, untruthful, obstinate, lazy—all vices in miniature.

We are going to-morrow to the town; this always amuses the _babies_. Happy age, when every little change is a festivity! If you knew what a strange sensation I experienced this morning on entering the drawing-room and not finding the two dear faces so long visible there! I thought I should have wept or cried out—it would have done me good—but Gertrude began to converse with me, and the feeling passed away.

I never talk to you now either about my godson or the beautiful Emmanuel; it is very remiss. Both are charming and do not make much noise. Dear little beings! And the day will come when they will be our protectors, these two little nestlings whose warblings are so charming a harmony to our ears. I wish you could hear Margaret say, “My son!” This word has in her mouth such a penetrating sweetness!

Dear Kate, may God be with us!

SEPTEMBER 28, 1869.

Can it possibly be true? Père Hyacinthe quits his convent and in some sort separates himself from the Roman Catholic Church. The bad newspapers vie with each other in their applauses, while the good ones groan. Louis Veuillot energetically blames. Pride has much to do with this great fall. Let us pray that he may come back, this apostle who has lost his way! Another star fallen!

Picciola daily grows weaker, and I now know, alas! why she is dying. I would fain give the account with her touching simplicity, but this charm belongs to her alone.

This morning I was in her room; she has not got up since the 22d. “Are you alone, aunt?” “Yes, dearest.” “Because I have something to say to you. I have to ask your pardon.” Poor angel! “My life was my own, was it not, aunt? I could give it away?” “And why, then, did you give it away, my child?” “Aunt, do not be so distressed. You love Mme. Marcella very much, and Anna also. Well! last year, at Orleans, during the winter, Anna had the fever. The doctor came; he examined her a long time, and it was I who conducted him to the door. I asked him if my little friend was very ill. 'She is consumptive, this beautiful child, and will not be cured without a miracle.’ I was very much struck, but did not show it in any way, and from that day I offered all my prayers for her recovery. The day of my First Communion, O aunt! I was so happy. The good God had given me everything. I tried to find a sacrifice to offer to him, and I had nothing but my life; so I asked him to take this in exchange for that of Anna. I felt at the same moment that I was heard, that my prayer would be fully granted. Oh! how happy I was. But, my poor dear aunt, I see you so sad that I am almost sorry; but then you have other nieces, and Mme. Marcella has only one daughter. Do you forgive me?”

My God! my God! Can you understand, Kate, what I felt? “My mother must not know of this,” continued the gentle victim, after a long effort. “You will comfort her, dear aunt! Oh! it is so consoling to die for others. I have a confidence that I shall go to heaven. Monsieur le Curé has told me not to be afraid. I have always suffered ever since my First Communion; but my cross was not heavy like that of our Lord! Oh! I long so for heaven. On earth it is so difficult to keep one’s self always in the presence of God; we shall see him on high. Aunt, what joy it is to die!”

Berthe came into the room, from which I hastened precipitately to hide my tears. I felt thoroughly overcome. What self-devotion! What angelic desires! I told all to René, who had already his suspicions: Anna had so delicate a chest, while our Mad’s constitution was so strong. God has accepted the exchange. Poor Berthe! When she received Marcella with so sisterly a welcome, how little she imagined that with her death entered our dwelling! I am proud of Picciola—but I weep!

Ah! dear Kate, let us bless God for all.

SEPTEMBER 30, 1869.

I live as in another world since this revelation. “The holy angels will come and take me,” said Picciola. Margaret, Berthe, Thérèse, Gertrude, and I succeed each other in watching by her. “All my body is broken!” she exclaimed in her delirium; otherwise, never a complaint. She prays, and likes to hear singing; she is full of tenderness. I have no news of Edith. Anna has written from Lyons.

Pray for those who remain, dear Kate!

OCTOBER 1, 1869.

She has received the last sacraments; her room exhales the perfume of incense. We are all there, whispering prayers.

_2d October._—She is in heaven! “Dear angels, thanks, I come!” And her soul fled away. Oh! how I suffer. I loved her too much! I write to you near to _her_—near to _her_ who is no longer there. I could have wished to follow her when the _abbé_ said: “Go forth from this world, Christian soul!”

Did you know her well, this flower of heaven whose fragrance was so sweet; this soul, open to every noble sentiment; this exceptional understanding, which assimilated everything and was ever advancing?

My mother is well-nigh broken down; Berthe is kneeling, and still kissing this brow so pure, these eyes whose gaze we shall behold no more.

Raoul and Thérèse weep together; Gertrude occupies herself in attending to the sad details; and as for me, I would pour upon this paper all the desolation of my heart.

Shall I have the courage to paint her thus—inanimate—dead? O my God! it is, then, true? That caressing arm will never again pass itself round my neck. That beloved voice will no longer resound in my ears. That aërial footstep will no more reveal her presence. She is gone! She was full of life, and freely, voluntarily she has accepted death and has left us alone.

Kate, how shall I pray, how shall I bless God? If you knew how I loved her!

OCTOBER 12, 1869.

I am beginning to rise up. For ten days I have been in a state of delirium. I saw Madeleine constantly by me, spoke to her, told her to wait for me—that I did not wish to live without her. René was in despair; but his prayers and yours have been heard. A strange calm has succeeded to the disorder of my thoughts; I have the certainty that Picciola and Edith have entered into everlasting rest. Yes, Edith! How did I learn that she was dead? I do not know, but René saw that I knew it and no longer sought to hide it from me. Adrien leaves us to-day to go and bring hither Mary and Ellen, and also Mistress Annah, who is wanted by Margaret. They compel me to stop. I love you.

OCTOBER 20, 1869.

I am still weak, dear Kate, but my soul is strengthened. Let us love God, let us love God! I went at noon to the cemetery, to the beloved grave. René accompanied me. Oh! how he also loved her. How sweet she was when she spoke of him! Raoul has taken Berthe and Thérèse into Normandy for a fortnight; their intense grief made him anxious. It is all like a dream; but, alas! _she_ is no longer here. Let us so live that we may rejoin her!

A friend of René’s gave Edith the comfort of embracing her son; our dear friend’s will is addressed to me. René is utterly opposed to the young girls being brought up with us, and we shall no doubt place them at the Sacred Heart. René is right: no one could ever take the place of Picciola in my heart.

Margaret and Gertrude have been angels of consolation to me. How shall I ever repay their tenderness! Ah! it is good to be so loved. Let us always love each other in Jesus, dear Kate!

OCTOBER 25.

The orphans are come, very touching in their mourning garments. The good Mistress Annah has grown ten years older. Edith died the death of a saint! How painfully this word death sounds in my heart!

My mother does not wish that Berthe should see _them_ here; the generous Adrien offers to accompany them, but Margaret solicits this privilege, with the secret intention, we believe, of paying the first year’s expenses. Kind Margaret! I should like to have kept these children, but in every point of view it is impossible. René fears that I may love them too much—and you also, dear Kate. Thus it is decided that they are to leave us on the 5th.

I send you the _journal_ of the last days of Edith; Mistress Annah wished to give me this consolation, sweet and bitter at the same time. Dear old friend! what good care we are going to take of her. I should like to have her here. Karl will be made a priest on Christmas Eve; we shall therefore be in Paris towards the 10th of December. For how long? I do not yet know. My mother has changed very much since our _angel_ is no longer here. O Christ! O Saviour! O Sovereign Friend of our souls! take compassion on our sorrows.

Johanna is here, by me, with my beautiful godson on her knees, smiling and playing with him in a thousand ways. Oh! how sweet was Picciola in this same place. Alix and Marguérite come every minute to talk to me, to amuse me. Margaret occupies herself in reading to me serious and absorbing things; but—I constantly see _her_, my little dove that is flown away.

Marcella is at Naples; the letter of mourning reached her there. She does not know what her daughter’s life has cost us, nor will she ever know it. Ah my God! who would have believed that?

Send me your good angel, dear, beloved sister!

TO BE CONTINUED.

PRESBYTERIAN INFIDELITY IN SCOTLAND.

The people of England, as his Eminence Cardinal Manning is fond of saying, never abandoned the Catholic faith; it was torn from them by violence. The people of Ireland were made of sterner stuff; they clung to the faith, successfully resisting the pitiless persecutions to which they were subjected. But the people of Scotland joyfully received the new gospel and took it into their hearts with zealous ardor. In England the sovereign imposed the new religion upon the people, and they submitted to it; in Ireland the whole authority of the civil power, exercised in the most cruel forms, was exhausted in vain attempts to compel the apostasy of the people. In Scotland the people apostatized by their own motion and the Reformation there was essentially a popular movement. The late Archbishop Spalding, in his _History of the Protestant Reformation_, says that the Reformation in Scotland spread from low to high; that it “worked its way up from the people, through the aid of the nobles, through political combinations and civil commotions, to the foot of the throne itself, and, after having gained the supreme civil power and deposed first the queen-regent and then the queen, it dictated its own terms to the new regent and the new sovereign; and thus, by the strong arm, it firmly established itself on the ruins of the old religion of the country.” The true explanation of the fact that the Reformation in Scotland was a popular movement is to be found in the words of a Protestant writer[14] quoted by Archbishop Spalding: “Scotland, from her local situation, had been less exposed to disturbance from the encroaching ambition, vexatious exactions, and fulminating anathemas of the Vatican court” than other countries; that is to say, the authority of the Holy See for a long time prior to the Reformation had been scarcely felt in Scotland; the wise and wholesome provisions of the canon law had fallen into disuse; the civil power had thrust its own creatures into benefices and bishoprics; and the people had become disgusted by “the scandalous lives, ostentatious pomp, and occasional exactions of the unworthy men who had been thus unlawfully foisted into the bishoprics and abbeys.”

Footnote 14:

Thomas McCrie, minister of the Gospel, Edinburgh.

In England and Ireland the influence and authority of the popes had not been thus disregarded; the church there had been kept tolerably pure, and the affection of the people had not been alienated by the faults and crimes of prelates and priests. In Ireland to-day, after three hundred and thirty-six years of Protestant assaults upon the faith, Catholic truth remains as firmly as ever rooted in the hearts and exemplified in the lives of the people. In England the effects of the retention of Catholic tradition are still to be seen: some of the great fasts and festivals of the church are observed as legal holidays; marriages are not solemnized at a later hour than that which formerly was fixed for the celebration of the nuptial Mass; and respectable Protestants, belonging to the Nonconformist societies as well as to the Established Church, abstain from marrying or giving in marriage during Lent.[15] But in Scotland the “blessed Reformation” swept away all these “rags of Popery”; it had full course to run and be glorified; and it made such thorough work that, for example, only within the past few years has even the most modest recognition of Christmas day as a festival been permitted. The Scottish Reformers, having burned the religious houses, stripped and disfigured the churches, and driven the priests from the land, set up the Bible as their fetich, and ordained that it should be worshipped in conformity with the precepts embodied in certain creeds and confessions of faith which they framed to suit themselves. For three hundred years the Scottish Presbyterians have been the most ardent Protestants in the world, and have boasted most loudly of their devotion to, and their implicit faith in, the written Word of God. This, and this alone, contained in itself all that was necessary for salvation; and it were better that a man should never have been born rather than that he should take away from, or add one word to, what was written in this book. God had not on the day of Pentecost called into being, by the power of the Holy Spirit, a body commissioned “to teach all whatsoever he had commanded until the consummation of the world”; he had simply caused a book to be written. “In the books of the Old and New Testaments,” they declared in their “Standards,” “the revelation of God and the declaration of his will are committed wholly unto writing ... and they are all given by inspiration of God to be the only rule of faith and life.” This has been the nominal faith of the Scotch Presbyterians ever since the dawn of the Reformation, and it is their nominal faith to-day. It has long been difficult, however, for the admirers of Scotch Presbyterianism to reconcile the fact that they were at once “the most Bible-loving and whiskey-loving people on the face of the earth”; that their sexual immorality was threefold that of the English, and tenfold that of the Catholic Irish; and that marriage among them had become divested of every form of religious sanction. Close observers of what was going on in Scotland had, indeed, from time to time perceived evidences of the existence and extension of a curious phase of scepticism among the people—a hypocritical and speculative scepticism. The leading journal of the country had for many years, with great skill and with the evident approbation of its constantly-increasing circle of readers, devoted itself to the stealthy inculcation of rationalism and of secularism in education. In private, and sometimes in public, leading members of the various branches of the Presbyterian Church had indulged in covert sneers at this or that article of faith, and every attempt to reprove or punish these heresies by the discipline of the church resulted in failure. Events have now occurred which reveal in a startling manner the extent to which infidelity has made conquest of the Scotch Presbyterian ministers, and which show that those among them who still care to profess their adherence to their standards of faith are unwilling or afraid to attempt either the correction or the expulsion of their atheistic brethren.

Footnote 15:

Moreover, the favor with which that parody of Catholic ceremony and
Catholic truths known as ritualism has been received in England,
especially among the common people, is an evidence of the imperfect
manner in which the Reformation there has done its work.

A new edition of the _Encyclopædia Britannica_ has lately been published, the article “Angels” and the article “Bible” in which work were written by Professor W. R. Smith, of the Free Church College of Aberdeen. Both these articles contained statements which, in the moderate language of the official report before us, and from which we shall quote, “awakened anxiety in the minds of ministers and members of the church.” The affairs of this college are managed by a committee, who are authorized to “originate and prosecute before the church courts processes against any of the professors for heresy or immorality, according to the present laws of the church.” On the 17th of May last this committee “had their attention called” to these writings of Professor Smith; on the 19th of September they appointed seven of their number—Mr. Laughton, Principal Rainy, Principal Douglas, Sir Henry Moncreiff, Professor Smeaton, Dr. Gould, and Professor Candlish—to consider the two articles, and to report to the committee what action, if any, should be taken upon them. On the 17th of October the sub-committee, two members dissenting, reported that they did not find it necessary to say anything about Professor Smith’s views concerning “angels,” but that it would be advisable in the first instance to ask the professor if he had any explanation or apology to offer respecting his article upon the Bible. On the 14th of November the committee received a communication from Professor Smith not at all in the nature of an apology; and on the 17th of January—eight months having been taken for consideration of the matter from the commencement—the committee made their report, which is addressed to the General Assembly of the church. They state that “after carefully examining the article 'Bible,’ and considering with attention the explanations which Professor Smith has been good enough to furnish,” they have not found in the article sufficient ground “to support a process for heresy”—a conclusion from which one member of the committee, Dr. Smeaton, dissents, as will appear, with good reason. It is true, the committee go on to say, that Professor Smith’s statements relating to “the date, authorship, and literary history” of certain books and portions of books in the Bible not only “differ from the opinions which have been most usually maintained in our churches,” but are “such as have been maintained by writers who treat the Scriptures as merely human compositions.” But the committee magnanimously decline to “assume that this circumstance is of itself a ground either of suspicion or complaint,” inasmuch as “much liberty of judgment should be maintained.” They confess, again, that they “have observed with regret that the article does not adequately indicate that the professor holds the divine inspiration” of the Bible, and that he does not “adequately state the view of the Bible taken by the Christian church as a whole.” “A clear note on this point” was much needed, but the professor would not give it, and “the committee are compelled to regard this feature of the case with disapprobation,” since it would have been so easy for the professor, by “a single sentence or clause of a sentence, at successive stages of his argument,” to have “prevented the injurious effect which the committee deprecate.” The professor gave “decided opinions in favor of some of the critical positions maintained by theologians of the destructive school,” and he consistently refrained from blowing hot and cold, as the committee wished him to do, “by showing decisively that he did not agree with their destructive inferences.” But since, in his communication to the committee, Professor Smith “admits direct prediction of the Messias in the Old Testament,” and receives three of the four gospels as “authentic and inspired,” the committee—Professor Smeaton again dissenting—did not think it wise to prosecute him for heresy on these points. They stumbled sadly, however, in their attempts to explain why they resolved to acquit him of flagrant heresy in the expressions of his views “with respect to portions of the Pentateuch, and more particularly to the Book of Deuteronomy.” It would be bad enough, they say, had Professor Smith contented himself with maintaining that the Book of Deuteronomy in its present form could not have been written, for philological reasons, until eight hundred years after the death of Moses. But this would not necessarily prove that the author of the book was not inspired and did not faithfully record the history as it occurred. Professor Smith did worse than this; for he affirmed “that instructions and laws which, in the Book of Deuteronomy, appear as uttered by Moses, are certainly post-Mosaic, and so could not, as a matter of fact, have been uttered by him.” Professor Smith, say the committee, holds:

“1. That various portions of the Levitical institutions, to which a
Mosaic authorship is assigned in the Pentateuch, are of later date,
having come into the form in which they are exhibited only by
degrees, and in days long subsequent to the age of Moses. This is
held to be established by discrepancies between different parts of
Scripture, which are held to arise when the Mosaic origin is
assumed.

“2. In particular, the Book of Deuteronomy, in portions of it which,
_ex facie_, bear to be the record of utterances by Moses, makes
reference to institutions and arrangements much later than his time.

“3. This is to be accounted for by assuming that some prophetic
person, in later times, threw into this form a series of oracles,
embracing at once Mosaic revelations, and modifications, or
adaptations which were of later development; all together being
thrown into the form of a declaration and testimony of Moses.

“4. That, viewed especially with reference to the literary
conceptions and habits of that time and people, the method thus
employed was legitimate, and was such as the divine Spirit might
sanction and employ. It was designed to teach that the whole body of
laws delivered were the fruit of the same seed, had received the
same sanction, and were alike inspired by the Spirit which spake by
Moses.

“5. The sub-committee do not understand the professor to mean that
this involved any fraud upon those to whom the book was delivered.
It was given and taken for what it was; however, it may subsequently
have been misunderstood, in the professor’s view, in so far as it
came to be believed to be an ordinary historical record of actual
Mosaic utterances.”

The committee found themselves “obliged to regard this position with grave concern.” They did not feel willing to admit the force of the evidence which Professor Smith relied upon as establishing the non-Mosaic character of some of the Deuteronomic laws; and “the hypothesis of inspired personation applied to such a book as Deuteronomy” appeared to them “highly questionable in itself and in its consequences.” This is stating the case very mildly, especially as they go on to say that the so-called “explanations produced by Professor Smith in his statement have not relieved the apprehensions of the committee,” but, on the contrary, have rather served “to make more evident the stumbling-block for readers of the Bible arising from a theory which represents a book of Scripture as putting into the mouth of Moses regulations that are at variance with institutions which the same theory supposes him to have actually sanctioned.” This theory is “liable to objection and is fitted to create apprehension.” It ascribes to the author of the book “the use of a device which appears unworthy and inadmissible in connection with the divine inspiration and divine authority of such a book as Deuteronomy.”... “The admissions that the statements of the book regarding Moses are not true in the obvious sense will operate in the way of unsettling belief.” The committee are compelled to admit that the article is “of a dangerous and unsettling tendency.” Nevertheless, they declare that they cannot and will not exercise the rights and discharge the duties of their office by instituting a process against Professor Smith for heresy. He has written a most heretical, dangerous, and really blasphemous article, and has caused it to be published in a book of the highest character and of the most extensive circulation. But they have “a cordial sense of his great learning,” and he has been good enough to say that although he has proved that the Holy Spirit lied in certain portions of Deuteronomy, and lent himself to the perpetration of a fraud in other portions, still he can accept the book “as part of the inspired record of revelation, on the witness of our Lord and the _testimonium Spiritus Sancti_”—the testimony of the same Holy Spirit to whom he has imputed the crimes of falsehood and of fraud! Therefore they declare that they find no fault in Professor Smith other than that of being a little too free in the utterance of his opinions, and, accordingly, they decide to let him go.

From this free and easy deliverance four members of the committee dissented, but on different grounds. One of them thought that Professor Smith’s views respecting angels were as “destructive” and as full of “negations” as were his statements concerning the Bible, and that he should have been arraigned for heresy on this ground. Another—Professor Candlish—was of the opinion that there was no “ground in the articles for concern about Professor Smith’s views”; and a third—Mr. Whyte—insisted that, instead of indulging in “timid and cautious” blame, the committee should have expressed their real feelings of approbation, and given utterance to “a hearty and grateful acknowledgment of the goodness of God to their church in the succession of eminent theologians and teachers he was raising up among them,” and of whom Professor Smith was the chief! The fourth dissentient was Dr. Smeaton, of whom we have already spoken, and who, save the member who was distressed about Professor Smith’s opinions respecting angels, seems to have been the only orthodox person upon the committee. An appendix to the report sets forth the reasons for his dissent at great length, but their purport may be given in a few words. The finding of the committee was “wholly inadequate to the gravity of the offence”; Professor Smith had offered no retractation of his heresies, and he should have been arraigned at the bar of the church. It is absurd for the committee to avow “regret and grave concern” at the expression of heresy by a luminary of the church, and then to “accept a mere profession of loyalty as a sufficient reason for abstaining from further action.” He exposes the inconsistency of the committee’s statement that the professor’s views, while “injurious,” “destructive,” and “naturalistic,” are still compatible with the belief that the book which he declares to be a forgery was inspired by the Holy Ghost.