Chapter XI: Front Matter (11)

Has not the author of this essay taken some romancer of history or some idle tale for his authority in the above charge? When and where did the church identify her teachings with this error? We grow uneasy in asking for authorities and examples; and when we are given an example of things which are said to have taken place eight hundred years or more ago, no authority is cited to authenticate the fact. The author may have given his hearers “the result of his deepest thought,” but he is too chary of the authorities for his “historical study of years.”

“The priests,” he tells us, “from the first hour scented this enemy from afar, and declared war against it [physical science], as the meaner portion of them still do everywhere. In the twelfth century the Council of Tours, in the thirteenth century the Council of Paris, interdicted to monks the reading of works on physical science _as sinful_.”[31] We retract having said that Mr. Alger cites no authorities; he does in the above accusation, but fails to quote the decrees or give their language, or tell what kind of councils these were and what their weight. We feel suspicious, and have grounds for this feeling, and we demand more definite proofs. The charge is precise; let the proofs be equally so. Let us have the authentic decrees and _ipsissima verba_. This is asking only fair play. It would not be pleasant to find this accusation, on serious investigation, a misconception, or a misinterpretation, or perhaps an invented calumny, but not by our author. We take real pleasure in finding a point in which we agree with him. Here is one: they are the “meaner portion,” if there be such “priests,” who “war against” the study of “the physical sciences.” We know of priests who are devoted to the study of the physical sciences, and some who are distinguished in these studies; but we have no acquaintance with the “meaner portion” who have “declared war against physical science.” Perhaps Mr. Alger has, and, if so, he will inform us who they are.

“Ethnology,” he asserts, “multiplies the actors in its drama [that of history], and takes _the keystone from the arch of the church theology by disproving the inheritance of total depravity from one progenitor of all men_.”[32] Here the author shares the error in common with almost all, if not all, Unitarians and free-religionists. They seem not to be able to grasp the idea that the Catholic Church, in the œcumenical Council of Trent, condemned the doctrines of Protestantism concerning original sin; and, whatever may be said to the contrary, the Catholic Church never goes back on her authoritative decisions. Mr. Alger well says that the doctrine of original sin is “the keystone of the arch of theology”; so much the more reason, therefore, that there should be no mistake on a point which shapes theology almost entirely. And if he and his brethren, free-religionists and Unitarians, could be got to understand and acknowledge that the Catholic Church has condemned the doctrines of Protestantism on original sin, as well as “the five points of Calvinism”—for they go together—then there would be some hope that the gross error of identifying Catholicity and Protestantism as “fundamentally and essentially the same” on this most important subject would be corrected. The error is an egregious one, which is constantly appearing in their addresses, sermons, tracts, essays, books, weekly papers, and journals, and with that error a thousand dependent errors would disappear. But, alas! we fear that we shall have to regard this as hopeless, and resign ourselves, for the present generation at least, to placing this, with other radical errors, among the points of “invincible ignorance”! May we just here be allowed, without being stigmatized as one of the “meaner portion” of the priesthood, to put in a humble demurrer to the unsustained assertion that “ethnology” has “disproven” “one progenitor of all men”?

If the reader is weary of following up with us this labyrinth of error in this not very long essay, he will pity the present writer; for he has not touched upon one-tenth of the errors which the same short essay holds. We have been careful, too, to be silent on language which might have come from Exeter Hall ranters or from the late Dr. Brownlee, a notorious anti-popery lecturer of former days. Indeed, we can scarcely allow ourselves the freedom of expressing our feelings of indignation at reading such language coming from men who have a reputation for polite culture. “Men,” we say; for at the close of its delivery Mr. Alger’s essay was endorsed by the president of the association as “the admirable essay by Mr. Alger, at once a history and an argument, a summary of facts and also a summary of apprehensions and suggestions, etc.”[33] Another speaker pronounced it a “most magnificent and masterly essay.”[34] We are not over-sensitive in matters of this kind, and before concluding our remarks we give a specimen of the language and spirit of the “most magnificent and masterly essay.”

V. FREE-RELIGIONISTS AND THE MONKS.

“Few men,” says our estimable writer, “duly feel what a debt the
nineteenth century owes to the illustrious founders and
cultivators of science, Aristotle, Archimedes, Kepler, Newton,
and the hundreds of lesser lights in many departments. What a
beneficent and herculean task they have accomplished in breaking
the chains of _false_ authority, opening the dungeons of
_superstition_, removing the _incubus_ of religious terror!
Their sunlit and open-air minds, in harmonious working
connection with nature and their race, have done much to dispel
the _baneful_ power of a _celibate_ church, the cloistered and
_mephitic minds of monks and hermits, introspective dreamers,
tyrannical theorizers_, who, set apart from the living interests
of men, had woven over Christianity _a horrid web of diseased
logic spun out of the entrails of their own morbid brains_.”

Let free-religionists honor Aristotle, Archimedes, Kepler, Newton, and other great masters in natural science; they are worthy, and we also pay them honor. Let them be grateful to those “cultivators of science” for all the hidden truths which, by their genius and toil, they have brought to light, and in this we also sympathize. Let them join with this class the men of our own day distinguished in this line of studies: the Herschels, the Faradays, the Agassiz, the Quatrefages, the Darwins, the Secchis, the Huxleys, the Tyndalls, the Drapers, etc.; they are all worthy of honor and gratitude for every new truth which they have discovered and made known to the world. Not to love all truth unreservedly is to renounce the light of reason and to repudiate God; for he was God who said, “I am the truth.” But this grateful acknowledgment for the labors of cultivators of the sciences by no manner of means implies the acceptance of every hypothesis or theory, put forth by some of them, which for the most part are based upon insufficient data or spun out of misconceptions of religion with secret hostility to Christianity. For there are men who pass for scientists who seem to be actuated more by a spirit of opposition to religion than a sincere desire for the discovery of the secrets of nature. Hence genuine science has to suffer no less than true religion from bigots and hypocrites, who erect their untenable opinions into final decisions of scientific investigation, and cloak themselves with the honorable livery of science to put forth the ignoble doctrines of materialism. Speculations, however brilliant, ought not to pass for science, and one must be on his guard in our days, lest he allow the authority of great names to impose upon his credulity the romance of science for real science.

But could not the author of this essay honor the really great men of science and be content, without dishonoring another class of men who devoted their gifts and gave their toil as enthusiastically at least, and with an equal self-sacrificing spirit, to the contemplation and discovery of another, and even, in degree, a higher, class of truths? Could he not pay Paul without robbing Peter?

Then, again, why this bitterness of expression towards the monks? Have these monks no aspirations that are holy? no convictions that are sacred? no rights worthy of respect? Why could not the monks with equal liberty lead such lives as the highest feelings in their souls called them to do as well as a Bronson Alcott, a Ralph Waldo Emerson, a Henry Thoreau, or William R. Alger? What or who has given to these Americans the liberty to lead such lives as they chose, and deprived men of other climes of this same personal privilege? Is it a commendable thing for a Sir Isaac Newton to lead a celibate life out of devotion to mathematics, and a sin for a St. Benedict to lead a single life out of as pure a devotion, at least, to the religion of Christ? If Reverend Ralph Waldo Emerson throws up his pastorate over a respectable Unitarian congregation, and retires to a remote country village to devote himself to the cultivation of literature and whatever he may please to think a more useful calling, in fidelity to his best aspirations, why may not a Bernadotti of Assisi retire from the business of a silk merchant, renounce his gay companions, and, in obedience to the voice of God in his soul, practise poverty and turn a religious reformer under the name of Francis? If Henry Thoreau repudiates the calling to be a clergyman not to be false to his highest convictions, devotes his leisure hours to the study of nature and the Greek poets, and, living for the most part on bread and water, takes up the manual labor of making lead-pencils to meet the cost of his scanty support, and in so doing not lose cast among the literary brahmins of Boston, why not let, with equal freedom, Anthony retire to the deserts of Egypt and give himself to divine contemplation and the making of baskets and mats for his innocent way of life, without being loaded with a heap of most abusive epithets? Was it heroic in Mr. Bronson Alcott to make an attempt to realize his ideal of a pure and holy life with a few choice spirits at Fruitlands, in the State of Massachusetts, while it was only the “mephitic” action of a “morbid brain” in a saintly Bernard actually to realize the ideal at Clairvaux, in the province of Burgundy in France? Are we to praise and never be weary of praising the Pilgrim Fathers for abandoning their country, their homes, their friends, and their relations to come to the wilds of inhospitable New England, in order that they might worship God according to the dictates of their consciences, and must we condemn the first pioneers in the wilderness who plunged into the solitudes of Egypt for precisely the same reason, in order to fulfil the great aspiration of their souls to God—the pilgrim saints of the desert? Who can read the riddle why the aspiration or effort of the soul to perfect itself is the result of “mephitic minds” in a Hebrew, or an Egyptian, or a Latin, or a Celt, and the same aspiration is religious, sacred, holy, when found in the soul of a New-Englander?

Did it not suggest itself to the mind of the author of this essay, when he perused the passage quoted against the monks, that he exposed himself to a flank movement? For where could you find better specimens and more plentifully of “introspective dreamers” and “tyrannical theorizers” than in the State, in the very city, nay, in the actual audience which assembled at the time to listen to Mr. Alger’s essay?

“O wad some power the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us!
It wad frae monie a blunder free us,
And foolish notion.”

Why is it that a certain number of New England authors, whenever they can find an occasion or make an opportunity, are sure to cast a fling at monks and nuns and a celibate priesthood? Even the genial author, Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, not to mention Whittier and others, from some yet unexplained cause, will turn bitter and his temper grow ruffled when he encounters in his literary excursions a monk or speaks of the celibate clergy of the church. There is no difficulty in acquitting such authors of intentional malice, but men so well bred and of such broad experience ought and do know better, and should not blot their otherwise pleasant pages with foul abuse.

But whence does this acrimony spring? Does it spring from the bully who strikes a victim, knowing himself safe from a return blow? or is it that the intellectual faculty of insight is lacking in these highly-gifted authors? Is this rancor to be attributed to their environment? or, finally, is it to be classified by some future clerical Darwin as an instance of Puritanical “inherited habit”? Be that as it may, Catholics ask no favors from the opponents of the church, but they have good reason to look for, and the right to demand, fair play, sound scholarship where scholarship is needed and claimed, and at least an average amount of intelligence.

These monks—and let us add also nuns, for their aim is identical—who have as a distinctive principle of life the resolve always to tend towards perfection, are not perfect and make no pretension to being saints, for although human nature is immanently good, there is notwithstanding much evil in the world, and no class of men or women, whoever they may be, is wholly free from the possibility of deviating from the path which leads to their true destiny. That there have been among monks and nuns hypocrites, fanatics, and those who have forgotten the sacredness of their calling and given public scandal everybody knows: “Canker vice the sweetest buds doth love.” Had these incurred the severe animadversion of the author of this essay, his abusive language might have passed unnoticed; but no qualification is made between innocent and guilty—the exemplary and scandalous, one and all, are passed upon as the same by a most unsparing and unjust sentence.

But not all free-religionists have read the history of the church and of the influence of monks upon civilization in the light of the author of this essay. We cannot forego the gratification of quoting a passage written many years ago by one, a speaker in this tenth annual meeting too, in which he gives a different estimate of the church and the monks in the precise period of which Mr. Alger has attempted to draw a rough sketch, it is true, but still his intention must have been to give a correct picture.

“Truly,” says the Rev. William Ellery Channing, “the church has
been a quickening centre of modern civilization, a fountain of
law and art, of manners and policy. It would not be easy to
estimate how much of our actual freedom and humanity, of our
cultivation and prosperity, we owe to her foresight and just
acknowledgment of rights and duties. It is easy to ascribe to
the cunning and love of power of priests the wonderful
sovereignty which this spiritual dictator has exerted; but it is
proof of surprising superficiality that these critics do not
recognize that only sincere enthusiasm and truth, however
adulterated by errors, can give such a hold upon human will. The
Christian Church has been unquestionably the most dignified
institution which the earth has seen.... Beautiful have been its
abbeys in lonely solitudes, clearing the forests, smoothing the
mountains, nurseries of agricultural skill amidst the desolating
wars of barbarous ages, sanctuaries for the suffering. Beautiful
its learned cloisters, with students’ lamps shining late in the
dark night as a beacon to wandering pilgrims, to merchants with
loaded trains, to homeless exiles—their silent bands of
high-browed, pallid scholars watching the form of Science in the
tomb of Ignorance, where she lay entranced. Beautiful its
peaceful armies of charity, subduing evil with works of love in
the crowded alleys and dens of cities, amid the pestilences of
disease and the fouler pestilence of crime, and carrying the
sign of sacrifice through nations more barren of virtues than
the deserts which have bordered them.”

VI.—THE FREE-RELIGIONISTS AND THE MYSTICS.

Mr. Alger must have seen that his canvas up to this moment was overcharged with sombre colors, and to give it a _vraisemblance_ he put in the following words:

“There has been another marked class of persons, in the extreme
opposite sphere of life to those just described—a class
nourished in the inmost bosom of the church itself—whose very
important influence has acted in harmony with that of science,
which seems so wholly contrary to it—acted to melt away
dogmatism, free men from hatred and force and fraud, and join
them in a heavenly enthusiasm of accord. I allude to the
mystics, who cultivated the sinless peace and raptures of the
inner life of devotion, absorption in divine contemplation,
ecstatic union with God. Boundless is the charm exerted,
incalculable the good done, in impregnating the finest strata of
humanity with paradisal germs by _Victor_, Bonaventura, Suso,
Tauler, Teresa, Behmen, Fénelon, Guyon, John of the Cross, and
the rest of these breathing minds, hearts of seraphic passion,
souls of immortal flame. This class of believers, devoted to the
nurture of exalted virtue and piety, were the choicest
depositaries of the grace of religion.”

The general reader would suppose that this “marked class of persons, in the extreme opposite sphere of life to those just described,” were not, of course, “monks.” But such is the fact, with the exception of two he mentions. Let us examine this list. Here is the first mystic, Victor. Victor! Who is he? Whom does the essayist mean? There was St. Victor of Marseilles, who suffered martyrdom under Diocletian, July 21, A.D. 303. He surely does not mean this Victor? Then there was the celebrated Abbey of St. Victor, near Paris, named after St. Victor of Marseilles, founded in the first year of the twelfth century; he cannot mean that? There is no telling, though. Then there was Hugh, born in Flanders, and Richard, a Scotchman, the latter a disciple of the former, both inmates of the monastery of St. Victor, both illustrious by their writings on mystical theology, and saintly men. Perhaps he means one of these, or both? Perhaps that is not his meaning. If it be, then his sentence should have run thus: Hugh of St. Victor, or Richard of St. Victor. Let us proceed; both of these were “monks.” St. Bonaventure, disciple of St. Francis, was a “monk.” John Tauler, a disciple of St. Dominic, another monk. St. Teresa, a nun, a “cloistered” nun, consequently as bad, at least, as a “monk.” Behmen? Behmen? _Jacob Boehme_. Oh! yes; a German, a shoemaker—not to his discredit—a Protestant, and mystical writer. O blessed saints in Paradise! do not, we beg, lay it to our charge of making you “acquainted with so strange a bed-fellow!” Then comes Fénelon the saintly archbishop, the friend, be it known, of monks and nuns. Now Mme. Guyon; it is singular that there is always a strange hankering among a class of Protestants after Catholic writers of suspected orthodoxy. St. John of the Cross is next, and the last, though not least, the Aquinas of mystical theology, a Carmelite, a “monk.” Now let us count up. But we have forgotten our beloved Swabian, Henry Suso, the Minnesinger of divine love; and he too was a Dominican, a “monk.” In sum—excluding, of course, the Protestant; for of him it cannot be said that he was “nourished in the inmost bosom of the church”—we have six “monks,” if you include both Hugh and Richard of St. Victor in the number, and one “cloistered” nun, all, without exception, “celibates,” of the eight examples selected by our author as “devoted to the nurture of exalted virtue and piety,” and “the choicest depositaries of the graces of religion!” Six out of eight—not a bad showing for monks and nuns “as the choicest depositaries of the graces of religion,” where a learned author has his pick, running over many centuries.

VII.—THE FREE-RELIGIONISTS AND CHRISTIANITY, OR THE FINAL ISSUE.

It is time to draw these remarks to a close, and that, too, without even casting a glance at the speeches that followed the essay which has been under review.

We did not offer, as our readers will have remarked, a refutation of the misconceptions, misinterpretations, and errors which have been pointed out in the essay of Mr. Alger. We intentionally abstained from doing so until its author brings forth his authorities and proves his assertions, in obedience to a commonly-received maxim rightly followed in discussion, which says, _Quod gratis affirmatur, gratis negatur_. Besides, the Catholic Church is in possession, and therefore the burden of proof rests not on her defenders, but on the part of her assailants. Our refutations will come soon enough when we have learned that there is something to refute. But, that our purpose might not be ambiguous, we have italicized, in most instances, the words which contain the special errors to which we wished to call attention.

The opponents of the church have not changed their mode of attack, but only their weapons. They no longer charge her with atheism, as the early pagans did, or of worshipping the head of an ass, or drinking the blood of an infant, but absurdities and idle tales of the “dark ages” are trumped up and laid at her door.

Just now, as if by a general conspiracy, an attempt is made to place the church in a false position, as hostile to reason, science, education, civilization, liberty, and the state. These are the popular charges of the day, and these show at least that the “gall” of her enemies is active and “coins slanders as a mint.” Counterfeits, however, may pass current for a limited period, but in the long run they are detected and bring upon their authors’ heads grief and shame. Only truth and justice are enduring and immortal.

The true position of the Catholic Church is now, as it ever has been, not against but for reason and God, science and revelation, for education and Christianity, for civilization and progress, for liberty and law, for the state and the church; as against atheism, naturalism, infidelity, barbarism, license, and anarchy.

Let us have in this free country, where all religions to an uncommon degree are placed on an equal footing, a fair and honest discussion, avoiding unsupported assertions, refuted charges, and all bigotry. Whichever religion is worsted in such an encounter by fair and honest blows, why, let it die. If the free-religionists can clear the whole field from Christianity, as they appear to think, and invent instead a better religion, as some fancy, let them do so and come on with their new religion. Give it a fair chance, and, if their new religion proves to be a better one, let it have a joyful greeting.

Until then the Catholic Church is in possession of the field, and in the congress of intelligent men holds its high place; for all thoroughly-instructed minds see clearly the impossibility of entertaining honorable ideas of God without being Christians, and of being Christians and not becoming Catholics. The real issue, if the free-religionists can be induced to look at it, is between Catholicity and nihilism.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

SMOKE-BOUND.

O cool east wind! so moist of breath,
With strength blow from the sea,
Loosen the smoky chains that curb
Our proud hills’ sovereignty;

Wake in the silent mountain glens,
Where streams grow dumb with drought,
The clamor of your lowland home—
The sea-waves’ battle-shout.

Sweep onward with your pennon clouds,
Marshal your spears of rain,
Sound in the pines your bugle-call—
Set free our hills again!

Hide them for days, if so you will,
In cloudy depths of storm;
Wrestle, as human soul should win
Its strong, immortal form.

We shall not grieve in such dark veil
To lose our valley’s crown,
That gaineth so from your pure breath
But mightier renown.

Our hearts shall greet the slanting rain,
Like blessèd water flung;
Your voice shall the _Asperges_ sing
The cross-boughed firs among.

Like sin unshriven these earth-fires
Hold heart and mountain fast,
Each day a stronger link is forged,
A drearier light is cast.

All day the smoky shadow flings
Its dream of heaven’s blue,
Its mockery of summer’s smile,
Its vision all untrue,—

Winning, at eve, the sun to spin
Dull shadow into gold—
Bright meshes of enchanter’s web
O’er hill and valley rolled;

Hiding our far-off sunset peaks
That longest keep day’s light—
The temple’s porch called Beautiful,
Steps to a holier height.

Broad steps whose strength our valley lacks
To lift our thoughts on high.
Blow, eastern wind! give our dim eyes
Our peaks that mount the sky.

O moist of breath! with cloudy lips,
Quench these dread earthly fires
That turn our mountain altars all
To beauty’s funeral pyres.

Upon this stifling chain drop dew,
Its glamour exorcise,
That, pure as pardoned soul, our hills
In Heaven-sent strength may rise.

Give us anew their morning grace,
Their midday depths of blue;
Open the sunset gates where light
Of Paradise shines through.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

ST. JAMES OF COMPOSTELLA.

Although most have heard the name of Santiago in Galicia, yet it is now a place that is scarcely known. In the days of our infancy there were still such beings heard of as the pilgrims of Compostella, but the silence of the present day is well-nigh oblivion: and of this famous sanctuary, which still exists, there only remains an almost forgotten and far-distant renown. France has unlearnt the very roads which led to the apostle’s tomb; and the Spaniards themselves, who will speak to you freely of _Nuestra Señora del Pilar_, scarcely guess that the Madonna of Saragossa placed her origin under the patronage of St. James, whose shrine all Christendom in former days bestirred itself to go and visit.

The apostle venerated at Compostella is St. James the Great, whose vocation to the apostolate is related in the fourth chapter of St. Matthew, immediately after that of Peter and Andrew, and where we are told that at the call of Jesus the brothers forthwith “left the ship and their father and followed him.” According to the most probable opinion, Zebedee and his family dwelt at the little town of Saffa, now called by the Arabs Deir, about three miles distant from Nazareth. Andrichomius, in his _Theatrum Terræ Sanctæ_, mentions a church there, which some years later no longer existed. Their prompt obedience indicates the generous character which rendered the brothers particularly dear to their divine Master, and caused them to be, with St. Peter, the chosen witnesses of scenes and miracles at which the other disciples were not present. The last mention made of St. James in the Gospel is in the narrative of the miraculous draught of fishes after the Resurrection. The next is in the Acts of the Apostles, which briefly recounts his martyrdom: “Herod ... killed James, the brother of John, with the sword.”

This took place in the year 42. Of the nine years which intervened between the Ascension of our Lord and this event the Holy Scriptures say nothing, and tradition is our only source of information. According to this, St. James departed early from Jerusalem, and, directing his course towards the western countries of Europe, arrived in Spain, where he preached the Gospel and appointed some of the first bishops. Here also, according to an ancient and constant tradition, he caused to be built at Saragossa a church dedicated to the Blessed Virgin, known as “Our Lady of the Pillar,” and, on the termination of his sojourn in the west, returned to Jerusalem, where, a few days after his arrival, about the time of the Jewish Passover, Herod caused him to be seized and slain.[35]

It is certain that the apostles delayed not in obeying the divine command to “go and teach the nations”; neither can one explain in any other manner how the light emanating from Syria so rapidly illumined (as even the infidel critic, Renan, confesses) the three great peninsulas of Asia Minor, Greece, and Italy, and soon afterwards the whole coast of the Mediterranean, so that in a short space of time the Christian world was co-extensive with the Roman—_Orbis Romanus, orbis Christianus_. St. Jerome and Theodoret both affirm that Spain was evangelized by some of the apostles. The Gothic liturgy, which is considerably anterior to the Mozarabic, and which dates from the fifth century, is the most ancient interpreter of this tradition. “The illustrious Sons of Thunder,” it says, “have both obtained that which their mother requested for them. John rules Asia, and, on the left, his brother possesses Spain.” The great doctor St. Isidore, who lived in the first half of the seventh century, writes: “James the son of Zebedee ... preached the Gospel to the peoples of Spain and the countries of the west.” The Bollandists furnish a number of additional witnesses.[36] The breviary of St. Pius V. and the enactments of Urban VIII. corroborate their testimony, the Roman Breviary saying also that St. Braulio not only compared St. Isidore to St. Gregory the Great, but declared that he had been given by Heaven to Spain as her teacher in the place of St. James.[37]

Whatever opinion may be adopted with regard to the mission of St. James, it does not affect the facts relating to the translation of his body to the Iberian peninsula. The following account of this event is given in the curious _History of Compostella_, written previous to the twelfth century by two canons of that church, and confirmed by a letter of Leo III. which is quoted in the Breviary of Evreux. The facts as there given appear to be free from the legendary embellishments, more or less probable, with which, in certain other manuscripts, they have been adorned.

At the time when the apostle was put to death at Jerusalem the persecution was so bitter, and the hatred against the Christians so extreme, that the Jews would not suffer his body to be buried, but cast it ignominiously outside the walls of the city, that it might be devoured by dogs and birds of prey. The disciples of the saint watched for the moment when they might carry away his remains, and, having secured them, they could not venture to re-enter Jerusalem with their precious burden, but turned their steps toward the sea, and, on arriving at Joppa, found a ship on the point of sailing for Spain. They embarked, and in due time reached the northwest coast of that country, and landed at the port of Iria, whence they proceeded some distance inland, and buried the body of the apostle at a place called _Liberum Donum_, afterwards Compostella. His sepulchre was made in a marble grotto which already existed, and which in all probability had been formerly dedicated to Bacchus, as its name seemed to indicate. Thus the spot received the highest Christian consecration, and the people of Galicia, among whom were numerous converts, held in great veneration the tomb of their apostle. The pagan persecution became, however, so violent in this province that Christianity entirely disappeared from it, and was not planted there again until after the first victory of the Goths.

The invasion of these barbarians, instead of being a misfortune, was of the greatest benefit to the country, and resulted in prosperity which continued through several centuries. The favor shown to Arianism by some of the earlier kings for a time imperilled the truth, but it was not long before Spain saw the faith of her first apostle flourishing in all its purity; and her sons would doubtless have flocked to the tomb of him who was declared in the Gothic liturgy to be the patron of Spain, if the same thing had not happened with regard to the tomb of the second martyr of our Lord as had before happened to that of the first. When the faith had disappeared from Galicia the place of the apostle’s tomb was forgotten; it is, moreover, possible that the last Christians had buried the grotto which contained it, that it might be hidden from pagan profanation. The spot was overgrown with underwood and brambles. Tall forest trees rose around it, and there was no trace left of anything which could indicate the sanctity of the spot. Thus, in the early and bright days of the faith in Spain, the night of oblivion rested on the remains of her great patron; but when evil times came upon the land God’s hour was come for pointing out the tomb of his apostle. The Gothic kings were about to disappear, and their sceptres to be wielded by the followers of Mahomet.

Invited to fight against King Roderic, by a competitor to the throne of the country to which he thus proved himself so great a traitor, the Arabs thronged into Spain, which in less than ten years they entirely conquered. Their domination was not always violent and persecuting; a certain toleration was at times accorded to the Christians; but, thanks to the proud courage of Pelayo and a handful of brave men who would not despair of their country, and who could not be driven from the mountains of the Asturias, war had set her foot on the soil of Spain, to quit it no more until the utter expulsion of the Moors had been effected. Galicia, with Leon and the Asturias, had the honor of being the centre of the national resistance, and consequently suffered from frequent and sanguinary devastation while the long struggle lasted.

It was in these troubled times that the apostle’s tomb was brought to light.

Already several kings had established themselves in the northern and western parts of Spain. Miron, King of the Suevi, had regulated the limits of each diocese; Alfonso the Chaste was then king of Leon and Galicia; and Theodomir, a holy and faithful prelate, was Bishop of Iria.

Certain trustworthy persons one day came to inform Theodomir that every night lights of great brilliancy were seen shining above a wood on the summit of a hill at a little distance from the town, and that all the neighborhood was illuminated by them. The bishop, fearing lest there might be some deception or illusion, resolved to see for himself, and repaired to the place indicated. The prodigy was evident to all, the lights throwing a marvellous splendor; and as this continued night after night, the bishop caused the trees to be cut down on that spot and the brushwood cleared away, after which an excavation was commenced on the top of the hill. The workers had not dug far before they came to a marble grotto, within which was found the apostle’s tomb.

Theodomir lost no time in repairing to the court of Alfonso to announce the discovery, which caused great joy to the pious monarch, who saw in it a sign of God’s protection and a presage of the triumph of the Christian arms. He hastened to the spot and assured himself by personal observation of the reality of the facts related to him by the bishop. Mariana, the Spanish historian, says: “After having examined all that has been written by learned authors for and against the matter, I am convinced that there are not in all Europe any relics more certain and authentic than those of St. James at Compostella.”

The first care of King Alfonso was to raise a sanctuary on the spot where the tomb had just been miraculously discovered. Built in haste, and at a time when, owing to the unsettled state of the kingdom, the royal resources were very limited, the edifice was of a very humble character as regarded both size and materials: “Petra et luto opus parvum” is the description given of it in the Act of Erection of the second church, built later by Alfonso III. The king was nevertheless able to endow it with a certain revenue, and to secure a permanent provision to its ministers. The archives of Compostella long preserved a privilege granted by Alfonso the Chaste, in virtue of which all the lands with their villages, for three miles round, were made over to the church.

Spain was speedily made aware of the discovery; the neighboring nations, and in particular the Gauls, heard of it also, and the faithful from both countries flocked in great numbers to the tomb, drawn by the fame of the miracles which immediately began to be wrought there, and of which Valafrid Strabo, who died in the year 849, makes mention: _Plurima hic præsul patravit signa stupenda_.

The relations of Gaul with Christian Spain were at that time very frequent. The infidels were the common enemy. Charles Martel had driven them from Gaul, but the struggle that still went on south of the Gallic frontiers had an intense interest for all Christendom. Charlemagne was allied in friendship with Alfonso the Chaste, though it is doubtful whether he ever made the pilgrimage of Compostella, as some have said. It is, however, certain that he joined his entreaties to those of the king of Leon to obtain from Pope Leo III. the transfer of the bishopric of Iria to Compostella. This was the name already borne by the town which had rapidly risen round the apostle’s tomb, and which was given in remembrance of the starlike lights which had revealed its locality—_Campus Stellæ_.

The pope granted the request of the two monarchs. Compostella replaced the bishopric of Iria and remained suffragan to the archbishop of Braga until the town of St. James should be raised to the metropolitan dignity. King Alfonso, who had no children, offered to bequeath his throne to Charlemagne, on condition that that monarch would drive the Moors out of Spain. Charlemagne accepted the terms and crossed the Pyrenees; but the Spanish princes, disapproving of Alfonso’s proposal, leagued together against the emperor, and some of them, later on, allied themselves with the Moorish king of Saragossa, and destroyed at Roncesvaux the rearguard of Charlemagne’s army, in which perished Roland, the hero _par excellence_ of the lays and chronicles of the time.

Some time afterwards, when Ramira had succeeded Alfonso the Chaste, and Abderahman II. was King of Cordova, the latter, inflated by his successes, sent to demand of the Spanish king an annual tribute of a hundred young maidens. Ramira indignantly drove away the ambassadors, assembled his troops, and declared war. He was defeated in the battle of Alaveda, and forced to withdraw with the remnant of his army to a neighboring elevation, where the Moor could not fail to attack him. The Christian monarchy in Spain seemed on the very brink of ruin. That night the king had a dream, in which the apostle St. James appeared to him, grand and majestic, bidding him be of good courage, for that on the morrow he should be victorious. The king related his vision to the prelates and leaders of his army, and made it known to the soldiers also. Immediately every heart kindled with fresh enthusiasm; the little band threw itself upon the infidel host, while on all sides arose the shout, Sant’ Iago! Sant’ Iago! which has ever since been the war-cry of Spain.

The Moors were thrown into confusion and completely routed, leaving 60,000 of their number on the field of battle. It was averred that during the whole engagement the apostle St. James, mounted on a white charger, and bearing in his hand a white banner with a red cross, was seen at the head of the Christian battalions, scattering terror and death among the ranks of the enemy. Thus was fought, in 846, the famous battle of Clavijo, all the glory of which is due to the patron of Spain.

After a solemn act of thanksgiving to God the army made a public vow, obligatory on all the kingdom, to pay yearly to the church at Compostella one measure of corn and one of wine from every acre of land. Immense riches were found in the Moorish camp, and these were consecrated to the erection of two magnificent churches—one at Oviedo, in honor of the Blessed Virgin, and another under the invocation of St. Michael.

From this time the devotion to the apostle who had shown himself the protector and deliverer of the country spread far and wide. Pilgrims thronged from every quarter to his tomb, which became the great pilgrimage of the west, the pendant to Jerusalem, with Rome between the two.

The humble church erected by Alfonso the Chaste was by no means suitable to the dignity of the deliverer of Spain, nor sufficient for the ever-increasing number of pilgrims. In the year 868 Alfonso III., together with Sisenand, then Bishop of Compostella, undertook to replace it by a cathedral. “We, Alfonso,” it is written in the Act of Erection, “have resolved, together with the bishop aforesaid, to build the house of the Lord and to restore the temple and tomb of the apostle which aforetime had been raised to his august memory by the Lord Alfonso, and which was only a small construction of stone and clay. Urged by the inspiration of God, we are come with our subjects, our family, into this holy place. Traversing Spain through the battalions of the Moors, we have brought from the city of Ebeca blocks of marble which we have selected, and which our forefathers had carried thither by sea, and with which they built superb habitations, which the enemy has destroyed.”

All the materials for the new building were thus gathered together, the slabs and columns of marble being of great beauty, but we have little information as to its architectural style or merit. The arts were at that time in a state of temporary decay. The edifices of the Roman period had for the most part perished in the invasions of the Goths, the Suevi, and the Alani. These nations, after having embraced the faith, were speedily civilized, and under its inspiration had raised numerous religious buildings which were not without a certain grandeur, when the Moorish conquest of Spain brought again an almost universal ruin over the land. The influence of the climate, the beauty of the Andalusian skies, softened the fierce character of the victors, and their minds speedily received a wonderful intellectual development. Never did any people make so much progress in so short a time, in art, in science, in culture of ideas, and also in a certain elevation of sentiment. Architecture of great magnificence and originality made rapid advances among them, of which the richness always bore the stamp of a peculiar tastefulness and delicacy.

The vanquished were unable to make the same progress, nor were they to attain to great results until after having received the contact of the works of their conquerors. These results were arrived at later on, thanks to a certain courtesy which, outside the war as it were, and in times of truce, established between the two peoples mutual relations and currents of influence which left their impress on all the creations of genius.

When King Alfonso commenced the cathedral of Compostella, the conquest was still too recent and the animosity too great between the Spaniards and their subduers to allow of any amicable intercourse or interchange of ideas on matters connected with the arts of peace. The architecture of the close of the ninth century was heavy and the forms massive; not without grandeur, though for the most part devoid of grace. Such, doubtless, in its general features, was the ancient cathedral of Compostella, which was completed about the year 874. Mariana, following the statement of Sandoval, says that there was held there in 876 a council of fourteen bishops, who consecrated the new edifice. The high altar was dedicated to our Lord under the title of St. Saviour, that on the right to St. Peter, and that on the left to St. Paul, while the ancient altar over the apostle’s tomb, which reached back to a remote antiquity, received no consecration, it being regarded as certain that this had received it from the first disciples of St. James.

The erection of the cathedral gave a new impetus to the pilgrimage, to facilitate which roads were made in the south of France and the north of Spain. Monasteries and houses of refuge were built along the wild and lonely defiles of the Pyrenees, and bridges thrown across the streams and rivers. The roads were thronged by the multitudes, who came, some from simple devotion, others to do penance and seek pardon of their sins, and many also to obtain some particular favor—the cure of a sickness or the success of an undertaking. Great was the renown of Monsignor St. James, the power of whose intercession and the splendor of whose miracles were held in high esteem at Rome. Pope John X., at the commencement of the tenth century, sent to his tomb a priest named Zanelus to obtain correct information respecting the number of pilgrims and the authenticity of the numerous miracles; he was also charged to examine the liturgical books of the Goths, respecting which it had been stated that they were full of errors. The bishop, Sisenand, received him with all honor, supplied him with every means of faithfully acquitting himself of his mission, and convinced him of the purity of the ancient liturgy of Spain. All the books which Zanelus took from thence received the Supreme Pontiff’s approval, the only alteration he required being that in the words of consecration the Spanish rite should conform itself exactly to that of Rome.

Compostella, daily enriched by travellers too numerous for her to entertain, became a town of ever-increasing importance. The church especially, to which very costly offerings were continually being made, which had immense revenues and possessed superb domains, was in richness and magnificence one of the first in the world. Her prelates, however, did not always make good use of their riches. The church was then passing through deplorable times, and corruption, which was invading all besides, made inroads also in the sanctuary. The bishops of Compostella were usually chosen from among the noble and illustrious families of the kingdom, brought up amid luxury, pleasure, and the tumult of arms, and, carrying their worldly predilections with them to the episcopal throne, they might be seen constantly in the chase or at the war, sometimes driven from their see, and, attempting to return by force, dying a violent death. One of these, Sisenand, unlike his worthy predecessor of the same name, was in 979 killed at the head of a squadron while charging the Normans, who had invaded Galicia. He would have been a good captain; why was he made a bishop? Compostella owed to him the solid walls and strong towers with which he fortified the town. His successor, Pelayo, being equally unfitted for his office, was deposed, and replaced by a pious priest named Pedro Mansorio, upon whom the misdoings of his predecessors were visited. He had the grief of seeing the city taken by the Moors, who profaned and devastated the cathedral. His immediate successors failed to profit by this chastisement, and, after three unworthy prelates had occupied the see, the enemy advanced from the direction of Portugal (which they had invaded and ravaged) in greater numbers than before; again they besieged and took the city, which they set on fire and razed the walls. Alman-Zour fed his horse from the porphyry urn in the cathedral which was used for the baptismal font, and which still exists; gave up the sanctuary to pillage and destruction, throwing down many of the pillars, as well as a portion of the walls; and, taking down the bells, caused them to be dragged by Christian captives to the great mosque at Toledo, where they were turned upside down and made to serve as lamps. He was proceeding to make havoc also of the apostle’s tomb, when a bright light, suddenly emanating from and enveloping it, so terrified the infidels that they stopped short in their sacrilege, fearing lest they should be stricken by the “apostle of _Isa_” (Jesus). An aged monk sat by the tomb, alone, and doubtless hoping for martyrdom in that spot at the hand of the spoilers. Alman-Zour asked why he stayed there, and, on his answering that he was “the friend of Santiago,” commanded that no one should lay hands upon him, and the Mussulmans respected the fakir. It is the Moorish annals nearly contemporary with the events we are noticing which mention this incident, and which appreciate in a very curious manner the pilgrimage of St. James, describing as follows _Shant Jakoh_, the sacred city of _Kalikija_ (Galicia): “Their Kabah is a colossal idol in the centre of the church; they swear by it, and come on pilgrimage to it from the most distant lands, from Rome as well as from other countries, pretending that the tomb which may there be seen is that of Jakoh, one of the best beloved of the twelve apostles of Isa. May happiness and the benediction of Allah be upon him and upon our Prophet!”

The army of Alman-Zour did not reap any benefit from its sacrilegious plunder: a contagious malady made such terrible ravages in its ranks that there were scarcely any soldiers left; he therefore hastened his departure from Galicia, but was himself also stricken by death upon the way.

It was not possible immediately to raise the cathedral from its ruins, but the confluence of pilgrims never ceased, and the offerings of Christendom were such as to render the hope almost a certainty that it would at no distant period be worthily rebuilt.

Towards the year 1038 Ferdinand, having been made king of Castile and Leon, fought the Moors in several engagements, defeated them in Portugal, and, having dispossessed them of numerous strongholds and fortified places, desired to testify his gratitude to the God of armies by repairing to Compostella. There he prayed long at the apostle’s tomb, and took the resolution never to lay down his arms until he had broken the power of the enemy.

After taking the powerful city of Coimbra, the capture of which he attributed to the protection of St. James, the king returned to Compostella laden with booty, which, in gratitude for his victory, he presented to the church.

Compostella had now bishops worthy of their sacred dignity. In 1056 Cresconius, who then ruled the diocese, presided, at a council held there, in his quality of bishop of the Apostolic See. Rome thus exercised her influence, and this influence was so salutary that Pelago, a near successor of Cresconius, desired to give it a larger place in his church. He laid aside the Mozarabic Rite and adopted the Roman in the celebration of Mass and the recitation of the Canonical Hours, accepting at the same time all the Roman rules on important matters of sacerdotal discipline. And Compostella had not long to wait before receiving the recompense of her submission and good-will. In 1075, the same year in which Ferdinand took Toledo, the see of Santiago (for this had become the name of the town), which had hitherto been suffragan to Merida, was raised to the metropolitan dignity.

We have now reached the period in which, thanks to the liberality of the faithful, the cathedral of Compostella was not only raised from its ruins, but entirely rebuilt on a larger scale and with much greater splendor. Gemirez, the first archbishop of Santiago, was one of its greatest prelates.

The work of reconstruction, which had been commenced about the year 1082, he not only actively continued, but also proposed to the chapter to build cloisters and offices, as well as commodious lodgings for those who came on pilgrimage from distant lands, engaging for his part to pay a hundred marks of pure silver towards the expense.

The sole aim of this prelate was the glory of God and the honor of St. James, never his own worldly advantage; the people knew this, and that the use made of their offerings was always in conformity with their intentions. The times, however, were troubled, and the archbishop had his share of their disquiet.

Queen Urraca, the sister of Alfonso VI. of Castile and Leon, and widow of Raymond of Burgundy, claimed as her right, until her son should be old enough to reign, the government of Castile and the countries dependent on it, while her second husband, Alfonso of Aragon, repudiated these pretensions. Gemirez, whose influence was so great that he might be regarded as the real sovereign of the country, took the part of Urraca, and her cause prospered for a time, owing to the weight of his support; but she ruined her own case by her haughtiness and ambition; a rebellion broke out, and the prelate narrowly escaped falling a victim to the fury of the populace, who set fire to the cathedral. Happily, the solidity of its structure was such as to resist the flames, the interior wood-work and fittings, etc., only being destroyed, so that not many years afterwards, in 1117, we find the archbishop, in an address to his canons, able to speak of it as one of the richest and most beautiful as well as one of the most illustrious churches in the world.