Current Topics

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXVII, Issue 21, 25 May 1899, Page 1

Current Topics

AT JTOJfE AND ABROAD. Rm l ling is apparently to some people vvh it ( ovcf R\ I nn t <> smoking is to the Wahhabee Ai.ibs — the kmilis. greatest crime except willul murder. And so nobody need be suipnsed that there's a ' rale purty bit of a fight ' in Wellington just now over laliling and other enormities that are alleged to have taken place at a ba/aar held in aid of St. Mark's Anglican Church. Some of the combatants have flung more of wind-power than ot wit into their contributions to the strife. It is a relief to turn from the even monotony of their word-contest to the following pleasant little skit by the Hon. Dr. Grace, M.L.C.: 'As to rallies. Let us try and be reasonable with each other. Who goes to a ba/aar with the expectation of making a profit? The last ba/aar I was at was lor some city bind m the Skating Rink, 1 think. I looked round the stalls ctitically, with the eye of a man who had been in the Lovvther Arcade. I do not think any dealer would have given £50 sterling for all there was in the room. The ba/aar p' oduced about /".Son (gross, I suppose). Why do people go to ba/aars '' just out ot sympathy and good nature. We are all living together in a small town, and we help each other in a kindly spirit. I- or my own pat t, I never once saw anything in a ba/aar 1 would like to take home with me, except a lot ot pretty girls. As no single one of them would pick an old fellow like me, even if I were unattached, 1 hist take a ticket in a latlle bom every girl who asks me till my pocket is empty, and 1 propose to continue to do so, not canng a bi ass larthing tor the Anti-Gambhng League or Mrs. Grundy.' * * * According to Catholic principles, rallies are in themselves harmless, and may be indulged m without sin so long as the chances are equal, the object good, or, at least, nnlilLient, and the amount staked such as one might lawfully spend without injustice to himself, his family, his eieditois, etc. '1 he moment the dice are loaded in any w ty, the chances made uneven, the object of the rallle bad, or an ltnpi opcrlv lai ge amount of mone\ — considering individual cucum^t.inccs — staked upon an issue, the raltle or other lottery becomes at once sinful. It is needless to say that lafflmgol this kind is not carried on at Catholic ba/ iars, nor, do we believe, at any ba/'iusgot up tor church or charitable purposes. We know our principles, and chum the right to be |udgcd by them. '1 lie Outlook, the Picsb\ ttriati organ, claims, however, the right to judge us by None ontormist principle-., which L athohes do not ace c [it. Our Presbvtenan tnends do not >■ cc-m to be unanimous on the subji et, as may be seen b\ the tollowing figure , taken bom two returns ot lottery license-, g* anted by the Colonial Secretary Irom iS<)4 to the end ot March, 180.S, to persons connected with iehgious denominations. Only the figures of iß<;7-J.80,S are given by the Outlook —

Here is, manifestly, a case for the retort : ' Physician, heal thyself.' Si.lim n was a man of a thousand wise and weddiMt da^ - witty sa\ v, gs. One of them ran thus: lOt and vvrnniNu all actions of a man's life, his manage does mwnkrs. least concern other people; ytt, oi all actions of our life, 'tis most meddled with by other people.' There is no doubt about it. And Seldcn's words are about as true to-day as they were when written, over two hundred and filty >ears ago. It goes to prove that in some matters our manners have not improved, even though we have substituted velvet-pile carpets for the strewn rushes of Selden's

d i\, and the electric light lor the smoky torch and the guttering, e\il smelling tallow dip of the seventeenth century. Until the doctors hive slain all the microbes and the Archangel's tiumpct sounds the gtand a -scmble, people will probably continue to meddle with themamage concerns of their cousins and tin ir uncles and their aunts and their neighbours all r.'und about. It comes as natural .is abusing the weather or tatihing the measles. But why is it that the marriage ceremony sl.ould be made the occasion ot exceptional and rude behaviour on the put of onlookers in the church ? It is one ot those things which 'no fellah can understand.' Many weddings bring a swarm of people to the church — chiefly ladies ol very much assorted ages, from Miss in her early teens up through the portly matron to the ancient grand-dam whose teeth have followed her youth wheie Brcitman's barty went — ' afay in the cwigkcit.'

Sometimes the busy bu// of small-talk hums through the sacred edifice — especially dunng the waiting period of suspense. It breaks loith with fresh vigour as soon as the ceremony is ended. To some the church becomes for the nonce ■ i gossip exchange — a sort of glorified music hall ; the reception of one ot Christ's Sacraments a cheap show ; the priest, bride, bridegroom, and witnesses so many decorated actors; and the Altar and Us Abiding Presence little bettt r than a back m cnc. How many in the c lustenng crowd of curiosityboxes kneel to oiler a praj er for the future well-being of the >oung pair who, as the\ pass fiom the altar-rails are, like the twin-ship Cii/dii Doni'ws, launched to battle as best they may against the winds and w,i\es ot lite 9 Alack' It. is whispered abroad that most of them are too busy with note and comment, or gathering up a stock ot m iterial for subsequent gossip, and that nothing visible on the bnde escapes the onlookers' critical e\e and tongue, from the topmost sprig ot her mock orangeblossom gai land down to the Miles ol her dainty feet. There b own a legend to the elteet that some peojle who pass for models ot piety hi\i been known to act as if the ceremony w re a bee show, and ailcrw.uds to return to the church with as uii.ib ished and seiaphie an air of innocence as if they had spent the d iv like so m my St. ( laics ot Monte I'alco.

The bride of the da\ knows she is on show and the chief source ot attt action — 01 detraction. She nerves heiself for it as she would to have a molar drawn. She arms herself cl iboiately at all points wheie the sh.ilt~.of criticism are usually .Mined, and becomes giadualk so accustomed to the idea of being on exhibition th it she got s through the ceremony nervelessly , with quiet umi'ui.uil, and with the penile dignity which covets as with a cloak the uom in who is at the same tunewelldiessed and iiiimioii 1 - ot the t ict t li.it she is well dressed. But alas, poor Yoru k ' It. is quite othet w I'-e with the bridegroom, lie usually begins with a blunder — and a blunder, according to he I «illc \rand, is wni--e tlian a ciime. He arrays himself bom ciowii to sole in drapci v that is as ireshas a new-laid egg. Ncnv that would be ail very well in the case ol a lady. She is in the summit ot her glory in a well-fitting dress that has come without a crease stiaight out ot the dressmaker's bandbox — or whatever other iecept.ic.le such things are consigned to. But a man that is ' new all over' is like a leg in an iron boot. He is 111-at-ease, statch\, formal, cribbed, cabined, and confined, and permeated all through with asenseof havinglefta hcavenof comfort behind in the ' other ones ' that are hanging on pegs in his bedroom. Kven in the matter of clothes old friends are sometimes best. King James I. used to call for his old boots — they were easiest to his feet. Partly as a result ot this initial blunder, the bridegroom is usually nervous and fidgety. His hngeis arc ' fumbly ' when the ring has to be produced. His hands, no in his way, and his mouth-corners and eyelids are decidedly twitchy. The new-paper reporters call him ' the happy man.' Ile doesn't look it, and the observation is to be taken in a Pickwickian sense. As Artemus Ward would say, it is ' sarrakustic ' The ' happy man's ' nervousness is increased by the fact that he has usually had a sleepless night and an agitated morning, and that he fancies that he is the central figure in the exhibition, with all eyes concentrated on him.

Both these suppositions are absurdly erroneous. It is true that nis presence on such occasions is unavoidable. But very few people—including even the bride— pay any particular attention to him. Prospective bridegrooms will do well to make a note of all this. It is a bit of practical wisdom snapped up at a few odd hundreds of marriages here and there. It may diminish their nervousness on the wedding morn. It will not remove it altogether. In his Vanity Fan- Thackeray says . ' After three or tour marriage ceremonies you got accustomed to it, no doubt , but the first dip, everybody allow-,, is awful.'

However, that is mainly a tnendly growl over some o! our wedding customs. It would be difficult to conceive .1 greater rudeness than the widely-prevailing custom of n L e throwing-. I have witnessed it for eleven years past, and know it causes more or less keen distress to the newly-wedded pair. It advertises them as such along- their honeymoon journey. And it makes a mess of the church grounds. I do not know whether this is generally, or at all, true ; but it is whispered that rice-throwing is not absolutely always tree from a soup^on of vindictiveness, and that the biggest handfuls are generally thrown with the greatest initial velocity, by the rejected male or female rivals of the bridegroom or the bride. The newly devised and much more objectionable confetti ate said to be replacing rice as a promoter ot protamty and discomfort at weddings. We are apparently getting back towards the brazen age ot slipper-throwing. Within the memory ot living persons a well-aimed slipper tame with a sounding thwack against the cranium of the male halt of a happy pair in England. As a result, their wedding closed somewhat after the fashion of that of the tair Maud of Malanide, Who sank on the meadow — in one morning-tide A wife and a widow, a maid and a bride. The new ton/^/A-throwing— and, for that matter, the older superstitious rice-Hinging— are but little less barbarous in their way than the custom prevalent in parts of Prussia ot shying broken crockery at the newly-wedded couple. Is it not time, for Catholics at least, to disassociate superstition and rudeness from the solemn conternng ot one ot the Sacraments ot the Church ?

Unconscious irony, like unconscious wit, unconscious often gives a brilliant sparkle. The adverirony. tising columns of a daily paper are about as unlikely a place as any on earth to search tor either. It is almost as bad as seeking for grapes on thorns or figs on thistles. But >ou sometimes dtop across a gem like the following, which appeared in an Australian daily : - ' Km Sale, fine upstanding hoi^e, rising five, suitable tor doctor or undertaker.' _ A Dunedin contemporary recently published the following on its front page under the heading of ' AMUSI.MENT.N. 'Salvation Army. Wonderful account of the hie and conversion ot Captain Hill, converted policeman ! Thrilling incidents of police life in London' In the Ferguslie HM, N.E. Valley. Thursday, April 27, 8 p.m. Admission (>d.'

Y ou know Tom Moore s comparison of hope IAIRY GOLD, to the bird in the Arabian Nights — Has Hope, like the bird in the story, That mtted from tree to tree With the talisman's glittering glory — Has Hope been that bird to thee .' On branch after branch alijrhtiny, The trein did she *till display. And, when nearest and most inviting. Then waft the fair gem away / Such has been the hope of the legions of undoubted cianks and the scores of genuine scientists as well, who down the long drift of ages have stood with stifled breath and pallid face over the fuming crucible in the endeavour to transmute scraps of leaden gutters and broken kettles into glistening ingots of mint gold. Success has ever been almost in sight ot their straining vision — the coveted talisman almost m their giasp: but never quite. Alas ! Ike little more, and how much it i> ' The little lesb, and what worlds away ' Poor, toil-weary children of a laiger giowth that bit by bit opened up the field ot modem chemistry in the mad race to capture the end of a rainbow ' Once and again, and ever s O many times again, there rang out the cry : ' Eureka ! ' False every time! For instance, Kuineir's Journey through Asia Minor, &i., tells oi an • Arabian philosopher ' who is' alleged to have turned a piece of lead into solid gold in the presence of Mr. Colqulioun, the acting British Resident at Bassora. 'The gold,' says Kuineir, ' was subsequently v.ihif-d at ninety piastres in the bazaar,' or market plate ot the city. Just when the story becomes interesting, and one is llett t doubting as to whether the ' philosopher ' was a glorified alchemist or merely a

smart conjurer, ho was sp.rited away in the darkness of the night by the Sheik ot Granc, and the city ot Caliph Omar saw him no more.

Our later aU^inHs are l e « ambition-,. They arc shy of iron pots and .ompo gas-p,p L s, and baser metnls generally, and focus thcr su.plus energies on wrll-meant attempts to turn silver into gold In ,S, M . M,.C irey I^.t claimed to have produced lroms,| ver a M.ange hybrid. Us physical properties were very like those of gold, lls chemical prope.Ues thLe ol silver hdison, the «hmi no. them wizard of electricity, produced another metallic ' uoss.' iesU harnessed the X-rays to the contract with .. M.niiar resuli. Professor Rcmsen. of the John Hopk.ns I nm-rMly (V S. V ) „ st,ll haid at work in the same v. ration icsults (it a, n ) unknown. Or. Hmmens, of New York-the inventor ot the high explosive Kmmensite— claimed to hive produc -d from Mexican dollars a metal so strongly resembling gold that he named it argentaurum or silver-gold. i Ins was towards the close of ISO 6 The ' \r«- n- etaurum S^ndicte' wis torm»d to work the new discovery. Scientific journals— h re nch, Knghsh, and American— devoted odd roods of paper to the pi ocess which was to have realised the long-drawn dream of the middle ages. But it is still the same old bud ot the story that fluted trom tree to tree It holds the talisman 111 its heal; still, and has fluted to another tree, with Pnnce Man <WA ,„ hopeful pursuit. All went smoothly with the Kmmens business. The gold-transmution seemed to be getting 'a bid fonade.,' uhen, one fine morning --and tor a good many mornings,— the New York Herald challenged Dr. hmmens to a scientific test of his machine. The Doctor hemmed and hawed and demanded impossible conditions—including a preposterously large sum of money downbefore he would condescend to treat a single Mexican dollar 1 hat is only a few weeks ago. People do not lake so much interest in argentaurum now. And the gold miners up Central Otago and on the West Coast and away on the Thames, and Heaven knows where else, may sleep soundly o' nights once more and not dream uneasy dreams of modern alchemists and argentaurum.

Oi r R friends the Orangemen used to have they winna only one crowning grievance: the unst\ndit. speakable Papist. He was the doubleconcentrated quintessence of abysmal wickedness. Within the past few years, however, they have discovered hooves, horns, and tail in the Ritualist. They are consequently happy in a dismal way, and are bestowing upon the High Church clergymen a tolerably high percentage of the fetid favours which they had hitherto reserved almost exclusively for the children of the Mistress of Abominations— that is to say, of the Catholic Church. An amusing instance of the animosity of the average 'son of William ' to Ritualism or to anything savouring ot ** truckling to Rome ' — that is the expression commonly used in lodge literature— is given by a correspondent in the Church Times (Anglican). St. C lemeht'-, Church, Belfast, is the one referred to in last week's ' Current Fopics ' as the place where the antiRitual^tic crusade reached its maximum ot uproar and general confusion. It was even thre itcned with total demolition by an enraged mob composed chiefly ot 'lambs' from Sandy Row. The writer m the Church funes tells the following 13.1C . While lately travelling by train throughput of Munster, I met a Northern Orangemen, who seemed rather a castaway in that region. Nevertheless, full ot his sub|ect, he began to talk of St. Clement's, Belfast. I regret that I can do such imperfect justice to his remarks , but the following is the substance :—: — 'A suppose ye've heard tell of 3011 man Peoples in Belfast ?' 1 Yes.' ' He's a terrible man. A went to his church twice maself.' ' But with what do you find fault?' 1 Find fault ' Why he comes into church wi' his hands pressed^ palm to palm, and his eyes lookin' atore him at naethin', an' he has two wee boys for a choir, and ye'd think he was at the head ot a regiment.' ' But what is the harm in that" ' Harm ' Can ye no see the harm ' He's jecst like an oul' priest. 1 tell ye the Belfast men will not stand it. He<nv oot a hymn to the Virgin Mary, too, an' I hissed him mysel', man ; I did that, i'here was some folk late comin' into the church; he took oot his watch; half-an-hour !ate se/ he, nicetime to be attendin' divine service ; jeest tor all the world like an ould priest, They sent roon the plate and they o-ot tuppence , I counted it mcsel'.' & ' Well, what else V ' Weel, man, he goed up into the pulpit and he niver said a prayer, but he called oot, in the Nameol the leather, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, Amen. Was the like lver heard tell o't * but I tell ye the Belfast people dinna stand it. He disna' preach the Gospel at all. He says the Church se^ this an' the

Church sez that. That's the way wi' him. No' a word o' Gospel frae first to last ; but I tell ye, man, the Belfast people vnnna thole it ; an' then, at the wind up o' the sermon, he turns roon in the pulpit with his back to the congregation Oh it's jeest dredlul. But I tell ye the Orangemen will blow' the church up if he disn.i stop this Popish work ; they'll blow it up »mind, I m telhn ye. Man, do ye know Belfast yersel'? 1 ' Yes, I know something of it.' ' Dae ye know Dr. Murphy ?' 'Yes, I do.' ' Ah, he's very tight '' ' I know- ("inon ' 'Ah, he's an Orangeman ! But I ha'e my doot, o' him, but, man, I was in Limerick lately, an' och ' I went f) M ts<A did, A did. I wanted to hear Bishop O'Dwvcr preach. An' what dacee >c think he said m his sermon ? " lvety wan o' ye," says he, "should read a chupter or two of the New Testament ivery day in Lent. ' Jeest think o' that frae a Roman Catholic ' It nearly tuck the sight frae me eyes. An' he spoke to them, too, about confession. " Don't," sa/ he, "be wastm' the priest s time tilhn' him other people's sins. Tell him \our own sins straight." ' About this stage of the conversation f^'iid the writer m the Churcli Tunes) our train reached its journey's end and so did our conference.

Two fair readers — like a pair of gentle another Oliver Twists— make a joint and emphatic instalment, demand ior ' more 'of the tributes of Protestant poets to our Lady referred to in the second last issue of the N.Z. TAblht. Perhaps the two following helpings will suffice. Though homoeopathic in dimensions they may make up in quality what they lack in bulk. Goethe, in his Faust, puts the following address to the Mother of Sorrow into the mouth of the heart-riven Margaret (Anster's translation) : — Mother benign, Look down on me 1 Xo grief like thine ; Thou who dost see In his death-agony Thy Son divine. In faith unto the Father dost thou life up thine eyes . In faith unto the Father dost pray with many ai»hs. The sword is piercing thine own soul, and thou in pain dost prny. That the pangs which torture him. and are thy pangs, may pass, away. And who my wound can heal, And wlio the pain can feel, That rends asunder brain and bone >. Flow my poor heart, -within me aching, Tremble* aid yearns, and is forsaken — Thou knowest it — thou alone ! . . . Oh. in this hour of d^at'i. and the near grave. hucoo'ir me, thnu. ,mi ' Look on me with viat eoni.tjuaneu- benign. Never was. griff like tLiuo, — Look down, look down on mine ' * ♦ » The following fragrant blossom of de\otion is from the non-Catholic pen of .Mr. Hoiisin.m, whose Sliro/^lii re Lad was accorded the palm among a do/en ot the works ot the younger F.nghsh potts that appe ired m 18117. 't rUil; > <* s toilows — OOUS MOTH Lit. A garden b tw< r m bower <!rew w.utinji f or (iod'.s hour , Win iv no m an c\or Dod. I'll in wa.s the Watu of God. The first bower wa-i red — Her lips which • welcome " said The s-econd bower was blue — Her eyes that let God through. The third bower was white — Her soul in God's sight. Three bowers of love Won Christ from Heaven abo\c. Was thc-ie ever a sweeter or gentler or more Catholic poetic conception of that miracle ol all miracles, the mystery of the Incarnation Air. Housmnn has, like so many other poets and artists- and what true artist is not a poet in feeling? — found, perhaps his happiest inspiration in 'our tainted nature's solitary boa-,t.'

Year. SyS-0 SQ7-S ( hurch ot Kngland. 9 8 3<> 35 Piesb)tcrian. lo i 3 2 Roman Catholics - > IS