THE TESTIMONY OF PROTESTANTS AND FREETHINKERS TO THE SANCTITY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XIII, Issue 47, 19 March 1886, Page 19

THE TESTIMONY OF PROTESTANTS AND FREETHINKERS TO THE SANCTITY OF THE CATHOLIC CHURCH.

#■ — PBIESTS. „ » Sl 2 T ? rß Helps, in concluding his life of Las Oasas tha « Apos tie of the Indies," speaks as follows :-" In partSg W* La! £S* ?"*£ f6lt that a «" l rdinMy ealo * iea woSld S g f£SS and inadequate. His was one of those lives that are beyond sw»nhy £iL reqU « I? blBt °C y to * c written in order to mMtato tSem^ms career affords, perhaps, a solitary instance of a man who bein* neither a conqueror, a discoverer, nor an inventor, has, by the dS! force of benevolence, become so notable a figure, that large Portion of history cannot be written, or, at least, cannot be Tncffio? o£ the ■ffiisjn s ntained ; r tty J* StM W>'*' ? **"**■ a ? lf the P 10 ? 16^ of knowledge advanced even in & uSr^**"^ TTvh v yoan * eßt of thelhpnoSTaSS of the last mission had brought with him a Spanish translation of Chaptal's Treatise on Chemistry, and he intended to study this work da™ £2 Ud6 W^ 6re h l^ deßtined to P" 8 the remainder o rhiß days.-Dunng our long abode in the missions of South America we never perceived any signs of intolerance. The monks of "cari™ were not ignorant that I was born in the Protestant partof Germany Furnished as I was with orders from the Court of P s£iu I had no £2™S "?%* fr ? m **? thiß fact 5 "nevertheless, no mark of dwtrust, no indiscreet question, no attempt at controversy ever uESS* Ot P*}^P_ italit y they exercised wito^'much liberality and frankness."— On the death of Cardinal Biario SforaZ attend of 1877, the Italian secular Press spoke SgWy of hE The iWfc commended his " unsullied purity and his heroic %!?s', 7r h % PU!C Z lo^ led him the " modern Carlo BorromS » The fhn/ulla described him as the "glory of Naples/'-JoubertTas quoted with approbation by Mr. Matthew Arnold, slyVthaTtS Jesuits teemed to love God "from pure inclination out of admira! SSr V? 11 ™?' £ nderneß8 5 fOT &« P^asure of 'loving HinThi short. In their books of devotion you find joy, because wiS the Jesuits nature and religion go band in hand." Mr. ArnoW tells v! that they seem to have left in him (Jonbert)-who had teen the™ pupil and assistant teacher for eight years-" a most favourable opinion, not only of their tact and address, but of thefr realb (rood qualities « .teachers and directors."-M. Maxime dv Camp wri&Ts follows in the Bevne des Dew, Monde* for July 1, 1879 --"what Communist begged an asylam of a priest and was refused f Not one, and I could name many who owed their safety to clerical hosEft?" \\ may Wfa?a thftt tb< * Mid to themselves \ 'We shall ftSL^ Bo^ f^v am^ ngßt i he . m ' for tbe * know what our friends and !?!£ cr 5. d rt d ; at . t ! ie *«»»*• -»*«««. at the Rue Haxo, and at the JwSE? il ?a fi*" 68 °l 8l 5 u * bter ot th « clericals). Even the Jesuits, who had been so abused and who had suffered so severely Tvnut va 1880 published a leader eulogising the monks. We are told th£ the very name of the Benedictines is "redolent of arduous 222FJE? ma8 u- V t leari V n &>" and W™ we find, "Disrespect to the great Order which produced Mabillon might seem little short of sacrilege to French literature." The names of sTDominfc an? 8t panels we are told agan are "great names," and these sainte are called the " fervid Spaniard and the gentle Italian." « Moreover " %£?? e9 £\ Ti ™ S ' " tbe P reacbin K mendicant OrdersTof Xch these are the types, are not less notable than the Benedictines for their services to letters and learning. Our ovrn Roger Bacon Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, and others of those great tSernTnd thinkers who parsed the learning and though? of OhSKidS through the crucible of the scholastic philosophy, belonged to one or Stw,? 5686S 686 wl rB Vr hich P^^'y divided the sch^fs of Europe between them m the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries " We are then given a sketch of the Carmelite Order, some of whoae member^ shortly after the approbation of their role by Pope Honorius 111., in 122^ returning with the Crusaders, established their first monastery in England at Alnwick :-" Thus the Benedictines represent the original form of western monasticism, its seclusion, its devotion to labour and study its learned and pious calm amid the throes of a society that was fashioning itself anew. The Dominicans, Franciscans, and Carmelites gave a new and quart democratic character to the institution by their earnest practical purpose, though they, too, in time became the leaders of the thought and learning of their age. it is difficult, the Time» goes on to say, "to dwell on the associations, both historical and literary, suggested by these names without feeling a more than sentimental regret at the extinction of institutions to which the world owes so much. It was no mere sentiment that prompted a man of Johnson's masculine sense to say ' I never read of a herniit, but in imagination I kiss his feet ; never of a monastery, bnt I fall on my knees and kiss the pavement.' Tbe S^^f 1 ? nn f X S» yp^ bol L cal> ?° d r oubt ' but U embodies no little historical troth. ---Tbe Bey. Dr. Jessop, Head Master of King Edward Si ßo^? ? ?° rwi , eh ritoßr itoß " fo " OWB concerning the friars in the ySfZ^YSSSF?* SS 118831 1883 : -° utaide the walls a™ Lynn! *ork, and Bristol ; m a filthy swamp at Norwich, through which the £?Sf ° f // h X °l ty Bl l a reißhly tricked to the n>e?, nevl -a foot lower thajaite banks; in a mere barn-like structure with walls of 25»5' ?WB h!!7 llll ?!S. BUlll f lg , Allvat LoDdo »' *• MinoritS took up their abode, and there they lived on charity, doing for the lowest tbe most menial offices, speaking to the poorest the words of hope preaching to learned and rimple%uch seCS-short, homely tevent, and emofaonal-as the world had not heard for many adav Bow could such evangelists fail to win their way?' 1^ &? 7 Frftnc& oins, moreover, were as much distinguished for their learning as for thi Bugliah Franciscan, became & mUt leaded 80^

S£2£ .v** 1 ch *™ ter tb V never lost UU the rap. pression of the monasteries swept them oat of the land."— Tue great French infidel leader M. f. de Benan, speaks in his auto«3r- P /** f ? l0W8: ""'^ WM cd 110 **^ in a college conducted by SSfiS pn^wi".*J The " c worth y ecclesiastics were men of the highest respectability. . . They sought above all things to form good honest men. Their lessons and moral counsels, which seemed to me to be spontaneous dictates of the heart inspired by virtue, were inseparable from the dogmas which they taught. The fact is that the many things said in disparagement of clerical morals are, according to my experience, totally without foundation. I passed thirteen years of my life among priests, I never saw the shadow of a scandal, and I bave known none but good priests." M. de Renan again writing in the Bevue det Dewe Atondcs of Dec. 15 1881 speaks as follows of the seminaries of fit. Sulpice and Issy. " Saint Salpice is above all Uungs a Bchool of virtue. It is principally by means of virtue that Saint Sulpice is something archaic, a fossil of two hundred years. Many of my judgments surprise worldly folk because they have not seen what I have seen. I have seen at Saint Sulpice the absolute ol virtue, and— associated with narrow ideas, I admit,— the perfection of goodness, politeness, modesty, self-denial. The virtue that exists in Saint Bulpice would suffice to govern a world, and that has made me difficult to please in what I have found elsewhere. In the secular life I have only found one mau who would deserve to be compared with the men there ; that is M. Damlron. Those who have known M. Damiron have known a Sulpician. No others will ever know what treasures for the preservation of good in humanity are shut in by thote old schools of silence, seriousness and reverence." Cardinal M 4 Closkey,of New York, the first American Cardinal created died at his residence on October 10, 1885 and was buried with great pomp Nearly every Protestant minister in the city made a fitting ref erenet to the notable's death. Mr. Beecher, preaching on the Resurrection, concluded his sermon as follows :— " That dear old man who has gone up from among those who loved him, leaves behind his cardinal's throne, purple robes, and his tiara. It was well enough he should have them as symbols of his authority, but the moment he emerged into that other life he stood in his spiritual entirety. When he lifts his venerable head he will be young in the presence of his God, and he will remain with those whom he has saved from destruction, for they will be there too. I rejoice in this translation as Ido in that of all the saints. This is the testimony of a Protestant minister. You could not make a Catholic of me any more than you could make an eagle confined in a barnyard lay eggs." The Nen York Sun alluding to the death of Cardinal M'Closkey, speaks of the progress made of late years by the Church in the United States, and continues as follows :— " In this labour he One Cardinal) bore a conspicuous part, and by his rare devotion and sagacity succeeded in building up his own Church without provoking Protestant suspicion and enmity, while his learning, his piety, his humility, and his truly Christian zeal earned for him the universal respect which will to-day be manifested as his body is carried to the tomb. The first American Cardinal has died at a time when all Christians are ready to honour his memory as that of a man who has done measureless service in the cause of religion, good l morala and humanity, for at length they are beginning to under* stand that the old battles between the different parties of the Christian Church must cease, and that together as trustful allies they must fight for the p .-eaervation of the faith against its Infidel euemies. Therefore the Catholics and Protestants will join in sincerely mourning the first American Cardinal as a Christian hero lost.— Requiescat iiioace." The following passage occurs in a book called " A Lady's Walk! in the South of France in 1863 " page 199.— The writer is a pious English Protestant named Mary Eyre :— She says, " I honour these poor priests, whose lives are spent in poverty and feclusion, and in leading a poor ignorant population to good. Their power over the minds of their parishioners is great— for their lives are pure — and their practice agrees with the doctrines they preach. I honour, too, the nuns, who labour in nursing the sick, and teaching the poor, or who take charge of young infants while their mothers go out to w^rk." A special correspondent of the London Times, writing of a tour made by him in Ireland during the summer of 1885 speaks as follows of the Trappists at Mount Melleray :— " But if the good fathers keep open house for all comers, their own fare is of the most frugal. It is limited to bread, milk, and vegetables, even butter and eggs being only permitted to the aged or the ailing. The rules of the order are terribly austere, and it is difficult to understand how men can do hard daily field work on their training. Tney go to bed at 8, they rise at 2a. m. f an hour earlier on Sundays and Baints* days. Speech is strictly for* bidden, except occasionally to the superior, and placards enforcing silence are hung up in the corridors and cloisters. The dormitories are airy— even too well ventilated— long, lofty, bare, and dimly, lighted. A row of little boxes, with high partitions and open door, ways, runs down either side of the hall, and in each is literally nothing but the iron bedstead, with a passage so narrow that it would be absolutely impracticable were corpulence encouraged by the practices of the order. Going over the buildings I met many of the lathers and lay brethren, the former attired in white, and the latter in coarse robes of brown buckled round the waist by a broad leathern bait. Some of the lay brethren were busy over writing and home work, but the white-robed monks glided by with bent heads in silent contemplation, though they courteously exchanged salutations with the stranger. Tbe sight in tbe Abbey church with priest* and lay brother* kneeling devoutly iv the choir stalls or before the altars, reminded one of many a picture by Murillo and the Spanish masters. • 0 S c to tbs h* a dsome church were the chapter room and the sacristy, with a suite of side chapels for private self-communion, like so many square chambers. There is an airy library, with books secular as well as ecclesiastical, where the monks do their own binding. Some of them have attained no little skill in caligrapby and illumination, as was shown in some huge and handsomely bound volumes for church services, which are triumphs of care and patience. ... It it •till somewhat of a pnusle to me how the community pays tta way, though the porter's explanation may be as good as another, that faith iv Providence had never failed them. Bat it is impossible not to respect the motives of men who, denying themselves everything that

ii oommonlj considered to make existence agreeable or endurable, derote themselves incessantly to labour and to benefittiag their fellow creatures. The practical lesson they teach at Mount Melleray ought to bear fruit among their neighbours." Principal Fairbairn writes thus in the Contemporary Review for December :— lt costs a very peculiar kind of suffering to conduct a controversy . , . with the one man in all England on whose lips thewordß of the dying Polycarp sit with equal truth and grace. Not that Cardinal Newman has been either a hesitating or a softspeaking controversialist. He has been a man of war from his youth, who has conquered many adversaries — amongst them the most inveterate and invincible of English prejudices. He was one who not only changed sides when the battle was hottest, but led a goodly company with him ; yet the change, so far from lessening, increased the honour and admiration in which he was held. He has, as scarcely any other teacher of oar age, made us feel the meaning of life, the evil of sin, the dignity of obedience, the beauty of holiness ; and his power has been due to the degree in which men have been constrained to believe that his words, where sublimest, have been but the dim and imperfect mirrors of his own exalted spirit. He has taken us into the secret places of his soul, and has held us by the potent spell of bis passionate sincerity and matchless style, while he has unfolded his vision of the truth, or his quest after it, He has greatly and variously eoriched the religious life of our people, and he lives in oar imagination as the last at once of the fathers and of the saints. Whatever the degree of our theological and ecclesiastical difference, it does not lessen my reverence for the man, or my respect for his sincerity." NTTNS. The London Spectator in 1879 reviewing a Life of St. Catherine of Sienna, then recently published, speaks as follows :— Catherine was a great power and a real presence in her day, but the extraordinary influence which flowed from her words, and very looks, as it would seem, alike by the sick bed of the plague-stricken, from whom others fled in terror, or by the scaffold, to which she accompanied the victims whom her tears, her prayers, and her passionate pleadings with themselves had melted into penitence, confession, and trust in the Divine mercy, or among the unspeakable immoralities of Avignon, or in converse with theologians or artists who sought an interview with her, in order to puzzle her with speculative questions, or discover the secret of her high pretensions, and left her awed and conscience-stricken, was but the outward and visible sign of a life which was consciously, and with entire self-surrender rooted in the unseen and eternal. She lived, and moved, and had her being in Ood. An ascetic, she had no taint of Pharisaism ; an enthusiast she was free from the leaven of fanaticism. She early banished from her heart all anxious thoughts concerning her own salvation, and her love, which burned in her like a consuming fire, left but one great question in her heart, how she could best follow in His footsteps whose crowning glory, unconsciously to the speakers was proclaimed in the words—'- He saved others, Himself He cannot save." M. Maxime dv Camp in the Revue des Daux Mo rides of July Ist, 1879, thus describes a nuu to whom some friends of bis had given shelter during the Commune. " She was admirably serene, bending with a very sweet humility before events in which, without an effort, she Baw the wrathful hand of God ; very cheerfully, nevertheless, and without affected prudery. She was young, smiled freely, and spoke with a slight provincial accent that was not disagreeable. She made herself useful in the house where as she said Bhe fussed without ceasing. One understood in seeing her that she was accustomed to a very active home-life. After the fashion of recluses she referred everything to her convent. She admired the wax lights, the gilt frames, the porcelaine vas s, and said • How beautiful that would be for our cbapel ! ' Falconet's Baignensc in Sevres biscuit-chiua attracted her irresistibly, she said with a deep sigh of longing, 'Ah ! if she were mine I would make hei a beuutiiul azure silk dress.' I would put a golden crown on her bead, the Sacred Heart on her breast, and she would make a pretty Virgin for our chapel 1 ' All that was childish I agree, but so unaffected and sincere that one could not make fun of it. Sho passed her tim« in making lint ; her wimble fiugers picked the old linen to bits with extraordinary swiftness ; the heaps of thread accumulated before her like snow-flakes. When a parcel appeared to be large enough she rolled it up and wrote the address : 'To the Ambulance of the Palais de i'lndustrie.' One evening I could not help saying to her, ♦ You have a tiuly Christian soul to aid drunkards who drove you out of your bou-e.' She answered very simply 'It is our Lord's precept, and besides do you see, I pity these pjor people greatly ; they are very badly taken care of by the ladies to whom they have been given in charge, and who understand nothing •bout the sick. On the 24th May she obliged her host to rescue, hide, and save two Federates who had taken to flight " — M. d' Haussonville writing in the Revue des Deux Mondes, of October 14, 1881. concerning Sister Koaalie whose devoted labours worked so much good in the Mouffetard district of Paris, repeats the words she was wont to use in pleading in excuse of the poor. She added, says tbe writer, this beautiful sentence, that seemed inspired by the very breath of tbe Gospel, •• My children hate bin, but love the poor." The Saturday Revim, at the end of 1883, commenting on aa article in the Quarterly Review, speaks as follows concerning Bt. Teresa : — •'She was a woman of indomitable energy, transparent sincerity, genuine piety, and — albeit with slender equipment of education or cultuie— of great natural ability and stiong com noon sense, as might be inferred from the firmly-sec, almost masculine, features and resolute month, conspicuous in all authentic portraits of her. In spite of her abundant and marvellous visions — strange enough, however they may be explained— she was no swooning, hys ci ical visionary, nor was hers the mysticism of the cloister exclusively, but of common life, and her life was one of incessant, almost restless, activity. . . . She was essentially and above all things a Spanish Oatholic. Yet she was as little a gloomy bigot as a vi&i unary dreamer. In spite of celestial raptures and denunciations of the Protestant Antichrist, it is impossible to study her life or her writings without

feeling oneself in the presence of the most human of mystics, the most sensible and scriptural of saints." — Of the seventeen ladies says the London Timer, writing in 1884, who are knights of the Legion of Honour, nine are Superiors or Sißterß of Orders who attend in hospitals. — M. Maxime dv Camp, writing of the religions orders in the Revue des Deux Mondes for April 1, 1883, speaks as follows :— " Whence come these heroes of charity ? From everywhere, from the town and the country ; among them I see priests, soldiers, peasants, lawyers, professors ; in the middle of the women I reckon servants, workwomen, girls of tbe middle class, girls of trie nobility, who retain, perhaps, the memories of profane festivities where they shone before they applied lotion to the cancerous wound, or washed the linen of tbe filthy. There is more than one whom I could name — Sister Mary, I recognise you. When the Superioress pronounced my name before you, you trembled, an i your head was lowered as if it wished to disappear under the wings of your starched cap. Your maternal grandfather, the General, was my near relative ; when I was a child I have often played with your mother, for we were about the same age. I saw you when you were little ; I saw you w hen you were a young girl. Do you remember that one eveniDg you sang to me Schubert's ' Adieu ' ? Your brother is a count, and goes bis way through life. Existence had many seductions for you. When you were grown up, you were told it is time for you to be married. You replied, '1 will be the mystical spouse of Him Who is, and I will take care of His poor.' You put on tbe heavy habit. You cut your fair locks — are they grown grey t I was not able to see them — and you became the mother of those who groan. The paleness of the cloister is on your face, which has lost nothing of itg childish placidity ; your delicate hand, which had such pretty almond-shaped nails, has grown hard, is coarse with turning up paillasses, with dressing ulcers, and telling the ebony beads. The unhappy contemplate you with tenderness when you pass by in the dormitory speaking a kind word to them. One fact which I remarked surprised me. When you were young at home with your mother, in a house which looked out on a large garden, you were sad and dreamy, as if you had borne the weariness of over- long days ; when I met you, after more than twenty years, in your infirmary, you seemed to me sprightly, cheerful, ready to laugh, and trying to make your sick people gay. Is serenity, then, found there where you are 1 Sister Mary, my cousin and my sister, these lines will never fall under your eyes— which permits me to say to you : ' You are a saint.' " — The New York correspondent of the Philadelphia Evening Star, writing at the beginning of 1884, celebrates the bravery of a Bister of Charity in following & maniac out upon the coping of a lofty roof :: — •' Before the terrified people realised what she intended to do, this brave woman was out upon the ledge beside the maniac, who had but to take hold of her to hurl both to instant death. It was a moment of dreadful suspense, but the apparent coolness of the bister had the desired effect, and the girl was induced to come closer to the window, where men were concealed ready to seize her, which they did as soon aa she could be reached." Of the Little Sisters of the Poor and the work they are engaged upon, the Pall Mall Gazette gives us the testimony of an eye-witness, who has vioiied them in their London home, and accompanied them in their labours among those to whom they minister. The writer begins by contrasting the notion of the nun's life that prevails among those who are ignorant ou the subject with the life as it actually is. "Few, 1 ' he 6ays, "of all the thousands who pass by them with a cursory glance have any but tbe faintest idea of what the life of a nun really is. All that they know is that she lives in a convent, says a certain number of ' Aye Maiias ' per diem on her rosary, emerges now aud then from her mysterious dwelliug-place on a begging expedition, and returns home according to her accustomed routine, hhe has entered a couvent because her bigoted parents had from her infaucy dedicated her to the Holy Virgin, or because some great misforiune or sorrow had fallen on her in e^rly life, after which bhe retired from the evil world to eat out her heart in unavailing sorrow behind the sacred shelter of a convent wall ; or perchance she had committed some misdeed, some crime, for which, a contrite Magdalene, she now makes a life-long atonement, fciuch is the history of the nuu as she lives in the mind of tbe general public. . . . — But the woild, in the orJiuary sensj of the term, can be no judge wlu'ie uiuis are concerned ; it has neither the opportunity nor the desire to trace the path of the unobtiusive Sisters. Tbe real judges of the worth and value of a nun aie those outside the great world, the disiuherited who live the life of poverty, of (starvation and d sease. They know her well, and ia their eyes ehe is grata uuignifica, for of their darkened eyes she alone is often the ministering angel, the deliverer from long-suffering and almost certain death. As she walks, cheerfully and energetically, through the stifling lanes and back streets, the groups of lagged, untidy women gathered round each narrow street-dour divide for a moment to let her pass, the loud, harsh talk aud laughter cease, and a look as pleasant as it can bo from these hard faces, follows tbe good Sister on her way."— The nun's life is not an easy one. — " Early — at six in the morning, the Lutle Sister begins her day's work. Her convent ig poor, so poor, indeed, that her breakfaht is not always what it ebould be with a hard morning's work before her. Tbe tradespeople of the neighbourhood aie kind and help where they can ; friends are willing to gire ; but there are not many friends who know of tbe work, and sometimes the store-room is almost empty. But what is a meagre me.il to the servant of the poor ? Bhe knew what she had to expect when 6he entered the Sisterhood, and she not only endures, but actually laughs at so trilling a difficulty." — The Sisters then set out for their forenoon's work among tbe dwellings of the poor, performing vanous duties, and relieving the needs of many different kinds of people. — " ' How do you know of all those cases, Sister? ' Some are pointed out to us by the priest who visits the Catholic families ; some apply at the convent, and of some we bear from neighbours. It makes no diffeience whether they are Catholics or not ; they are Buffeting and poor : that is enough. We have Protestents of all kinds, and we have even a Jew in our hands at present." — The fore-

2°?°'. moreover, does not see their labours ended. «At midday the 22n •S.JT? 1 ? at the c °^ent for their meal, and thin g 7 o out S™f «^k * e ,° h u r owa Btation - Bhould one of them be unable ite» ShStft^ 9*9 * heT " ork > and as th «y «« •» trained in the same S£ JS^Ji ?7? 7 aFe - able t0 toke U P the work J ust where ifch »B been 2?A X <? \ cauain c "»7 discomfort to the patient. Where it is ||quired the Sisters also stay with the patient during the night."— Wit as to the disposition of the nun, it is thus described :— "« And do wOL??™* , wear y. of yo«r task among these scenes? • is the natural question which arises after witnessing the pitiful scene. « Do you not CS?? B^ fl° ng f * b / i « hter life am ° n S happy, cheerful people ; for Books, and flowers, and pleasant rooms and easy chats I ' No, never ; E?». m 2i. °i B i range ' but aII theee thin e 8 a PP esr vaia and tri «»i aLZ I?*" 1 T* 7 **}** day ' we Bee thiß world °* suffering and crnel deprivation. lam often tired at night, and consequently, low-spirited, bat never once have I wished to go back into the world "