We remark, therefore, that the forgery was neither favored nor patronized by the Roman pontiffs; and secondly, that the false decretals gave to the pope no power which he did not already possess, and that by universal consent. For the proof of the latter assertion we need only cite one or two authorities.
In the first place, one must be endowed with a marvellous credulity to believe that a private collection of canons could have had the power to convert the bishop of Rome from a pastor of a particular city or country into the ruler of the whole church, the possessor of prerogatives before unknown to the Christian world. And the marvel is increased when we consider that this great change must have taken place without any protest by the patriarchs or councils who were thus called upon to pay obedience to a new ecclesiastical superior. He that can believe this can believe any thing, no matter how absurd it may be. The truth is, that the false decretals could not have obtained so easy acceptance and universal recognition if they had not been in accordance with the received doctrine and constitution of the church.
In the second place, the careful study of the earlier œcumenical councils will persuade any honest mind that the papal supremacy was firmly established in the heart of Christendom. The Synod of Sardica solemnly acknowledged the supreme authority of the Roman pontiff; and in so doing it did not constitute any new order of things, but simply recognized a fact of divine institution. No council ever pretended to give any power to the apostolic see, but simply to enunciate, as belonging to the very constitution of the church, the rights and dignity given to St. Peter and his successors from Christ. Four hundred years before the forgery of the decretals, Innocent I. writes, in accordance with the canon law of his age, "If weighty matters come to be discussed, (causæ majores,) they are to be referred to the apostolic see after the judgment of the bishops, according as the synod has established and the holy custom requires." In thus claiming the prerogatives of the Roman see the pontiffs are all of one accord from the earliest day. The code of Justinian declares, "We do not allow that any thing which concerns the affairs of the church should pass unreferred to his blessedness the Roman pontiff, for he is the head of all the holy priests of God." Thus, Gelasius in his decree at the Council of Rome, 494, says, "The holy Roman Catholic and Apostolic Church was placed over all the churches by no synod, but obtained the primacy by the voice of our Lord and Saviour himself." "No one ever," says Boniface I., "attempted to lift up his hand against the apostolic greatness, from whose judgment there is no appeal whatever." The Eighth General Council (869) defined the supremacy of the Roman see in the strongest terms, and the formula of Pope Hormisdas was signed by the Greek bishops and patriarchs. In this formula it is distinctly stated that "in the apostolic see the true faith is ever preserved immaculate," and that "they who consent not to this see are separate from the communion of the Catholic Church." The formula also quotes the words of our Lord, "Thou art Peter, and upon this rock I will build my church." The Greek schism, however, required the reassertion of this doctrine, and it was accordingly defined as of faith in the Fourth Lateran Council, a.d. 1215; again in the second of Lyons, A.D. 1274, and again in the Council of Florence, A.D. 1439. The language of this latter synod is,
"We define that the apostolic see and the Roman pontiff hold the primacy in the whole world, and that the Roman pontiff himself is the successor of blessed Peter, the prince of the apostles, the true vicar of Christ, the head of the whole church, and the father and teacher of all Christians; and that to him, in the person of Peter, our Lord Jesus Christ gave full power to feed, rule, and govern the whole church, as is contained in the acts of the œcumenical councils and the sacred canons."
In this definition the Greeks, who were represented at this synod, fully concurred.[148] The year following, the Patriarch Metrophanes, by an evangelical letter, announced to the whole oriental world the reunion of the Greek and Latin churches, mentioning at the same time the doctrines defined in the decree of reconciliation. The singular charges made by Mr. Ffoulkes against the Council of Florence and Pope Eugenius merit perhaps a brief notice. He denies the regularity of the council, and accuses the pope of every kind of duplicity to control and beguile the Greek bishops. In reply to these accusations it may be well to state what we admit and what we deny. We admit that the act of the twenty-fifth session of Basle, which named Florence as the place of assembly, was not passed by the majority of the votes, but by the minority. We admit that the pope chose an Italian city, and that he guaranteed to the eastern bishops a safe-conduct home. We deny that he exceeded the bounds of his authority or acted with any cunning or duplicity toward the Greeks, who were anxious to promote a reunion, and especially desirous to meet the Latin bishops at the very place which the papal legates designated. The minority of the Council of Basle comprised the best and most influential prelates, while the majority was composed chiefly of simple country priests, and of servants of the bishops, who had been admitted into the congregations with the right of voting. It is also Catholic doctrine that the pope, who alone has the power to call an œcumenical council, has the right to transfer it, when called, from one place to another. The reason why Florence was chosen is evident enough to any honest reader of history. There was no "barter of temporal and spiritual gains" between the pope and the emperor. The eastern bishops signed the decrees with perfect willingness, and no constraint was used with them. Even before the interview between them at the council many of them had pressed the emperor to act in this matter of reunion, and went so far as to declare that, should he refuse to take part, they would assume the responsibility themselves. There is nothing which Eugenius did which any pontiff would not have done, who, under the circumstances which surrounded him, felt called to seek the peace and salvation of the eastern churches. All attempts to injure the credit or authority of the Council of Florence prove unavailing to any one who receives facts as they are, without color of prejudice.
4. It is, however, time to notice what Mr. Ffoulkes asserts in regard to the Crusades. The pontiff who, according to him, had built up an authority upon forged decretals, sought by means of the Crusades to "complete by force the ecclesiastical aggrandizement of the papacy." "He attempted to subjugate the churches of the east to that of Rome in the way opposed to the canons, and this was exactly what he completed on the capture of Constantinople." The answer to this charge, as far as the animus of the pope was concerned, has already been made. We have shown how Innocent III. had no need to build up a power which he already possessed, and which his predecessors for centuries had claimed and exercised. Then it is simply untrue that the popes had any idea of subjugating the eastern churches in the encouragement which they gave to the Crusades. Let Mr. Ffoulkes refute himself. In his Christendom's Divisions he acknowledges that "for two hundred years the east had been calling upon the west for assistance, and that the principal actors in these wars advocated a great cause, and one of the holiest struggles ever undertaken in self-defence." There was only one reason why the Christian arms were turned against Constantinople, and that was the necessity of protecting the Crusaders against treachery and destruction by Greek perfidy. "There was a growing feeling in Europe," says Mr. Ffoulkes, "that the Greeks were at the bottom of all the misfortunes of the Latins in the east." Of Conrad's army sixty thousand fell beneath the swords of the Mussulmans through the treason of the Greek guides. The emperor made every effort to ensnare the formidable army of Louis VII., and forced the third Crusade, at great loss, to get to the Holy Land by sea. Barbarossa could hardly save his soldiers from the insidious artifices which were plotted against him. But let the historian Gibbon, whose judgment is certainly not partial to the Latins, decide the matter:
"It was secretly and perhaps tacitly resolved," he says, "by the prince and people (Greek) to destroy, or at least to discourage the pilgrims by every species of injury and oppression, and their want of prudence and discipline continually afforded the pretence or the opportunity. The western monarchs had stipulated a safe passage and a fair market in the country of their Christian brethren; the treaty had been ratified by oath and hostages, and the poorest soldier of Frederic's army was furnished with three marks of silver to defray his expenses on the road. But every engagement was violated by treachery and injustice, and the complaints of the Latins are attested by the honest confession of a Greek historian who has dared to prefer truth to his country. Instead of a hospitable reception, the gates of the cities, both in Europe and Asia, were closely barred against the Crusaders, and the scanty pittance of food was let down from the walls.... In every step of their march they were stopped or misled; the governors had private orders to fortify the passes and break down the bridges against them; the stragglers were pillaged and murdered; the soldiers and horses were pierced in the woods by arrows from an invisible hand; the sick were burnt in their beds; and the dead bodies were hung on gibbets along the highways. These injuries exasperated the champions of the cross, who were not endowed with evangelical patience, and the Byzantine princes, who had provoked the unequal conflict, promoted the embarkation and march of these formidable guests."
As far as Innocent III. is concerned, it is evident from his letters that he was wholly averse to the capture of Constantinople, and that he accepted the establishment of the new empire only as a means of securing the soil which had been hallowed by the footsteps of our Lord. And when he appointed Thomas Morosini in the place of John Lamater, who had deserted his see, he only used his supreme authority as the head of the church.
"Innocent," says Mr. Ffoulkes, "was no lawless invader of the rights of others, but rather one of the most eminent and exact canonists that ever adorned the chair of Peter; and if he took the loftiest views of the prerogatives of his see, it was because he believed them to be thoroughly consonant with law and equity."
We think our objector must have been driven for argument, and somewhat demented, when he sought the Crusades for witnesses against the authority and conceded rights of the Roman pontiff.
5. Now comes the conclusion, which is not contained in the premises, but which, as the ex cathedra assertion of Mr. E. S. Ffoulkes, has all the value of his personal experience. He joined the Catholic Church some years ago, and has not yet formally renounced it, as far as we know, although he has incurred an ipso facto excommunication by obstinately sustaining heretical propositions and refusing submission to the judgment of the holy see. He went often to confession and communion until he was refused permission to receive the sacraments. He does not tell the world that he purposes to leave us, though he does say that he ought never to have abandoned the English Church, whose memories still expand his heart. He charges the pope with being an usurper by many means of fraud, and he even seems to deny any patriarchal jurisdiction in England. Being a judge of the operations of the Holy Spirit, he finds that converts do not become any more pious by their submission to Rome, and to his mind the Protestant parsonage is "the perfect ideal of practical Christianity." To illustrate what a peculiar mind he has, we will only add, as a piece of curious information, that he draws conclusions from what the Council of Trent did not do. "Luther was excommunicated, but the Confession of Augsburg has not been yet anathematized." "Queen Elizabeth was deposed, but the council deliberately abstained from affirming that the bishops consecrated in her reign were no bishops." "Even the Thirty-nine Articles escaped censure." "Anglican orders, if they have not been recognized in practice, have never been declared invalid; still less have the grounds of their invalidity been set forth." Our readers who know any thing of ecclesiastical history may judge whether Mr. Ffoulkes is sane or not. What else did the Council of Trent do but condemn the peculiar tenets of Augsburg, and the doctrines contained in the Thirty-nine Articles? Can any thing be plainer than this? How have Anglican orders been passed over in silence, or even delicately handled? Every child who reads the Catholic catechism knows that holy order is a sacrament that cannot be reiterated without sacrilege. Yet in every instance where an Anglican minister has been advanced to any order of the clergy, ordination has been given, as to a mere layman, and that without any condition whatever. Such has been the invariable practice of the church, and this upon the highest authority, so that it has passed into a universal rule. "Anglican orders," he says, "have never been declared invalid; still less have the grounds of their invalidity been set forth." We will quote him a decision of the Holy Office and a decree of the pope, bearing date April 17th, 1704. As he has found so many things which are substantially untrue, why did he not find this decree before he ventured to publish his letter? We give as nearly a literal translation as possible:
"In the general Congregation of the Holy Roman and Universal Inquisition, held in the apostolical palace at St. Peter's, in the presence of our most holy lord, Clement XI., by divine providence pope, and the most eminent and reverend lords, the cardinals of the holy Roman Church, the aforesaid memorial having been read, our most holy lord, the aforesaid pope, having heard the sentiments of the same eminent personages, decreed that the petitioner, John Clement Gordon, be promoted from the commencement to all, even the holy orders, and the priesthood; and that, as he has not been fortified by the sacrament of confirmation, he be confirmed."
Dr. Gordon was the Anglican bishop of Galloway. He went to Rome, and was there received into the communion of the church. The whole question of his orders was carefully examined, and the above is the conclusion of the supreme authority of the Roman pontiff. "The grounds of the invalidity of English orders have never been set forth," says Mr. Ffoulkes. Let us still further quote the petition in the case of Dr. Gordon:
"It cannot be granted that they (the Anglican bishops) have received the ministry from Catholics, since no evidence is produced of successive ordination. Without this, there remains no vestige of consecration with these heretics, besides a ministry derived from the people or a lay-prince. Moreover, supposing even that some one of them had received, by means of legitimate succession, the episcopal ordination and consecration, (which, however, is by no means proved,) still, their orders must now be pronounced invalid through the defect of matter, form, and due intention."
We presume the argument in this case will have little weight with our objector or his friends; but we trust no one will say again that Rome has never pronounced a judgment on the question of Anglican orders. Still, after the letter we are reviewing, as well as many things we have seen and heard in the ritualistic quarter, we can never be taken by surprise again. Should they tell us that the pope is excommunicated by his own decree, it will not ruffle our peace; for in the Protestant religion each man is an infallible pontiff, whose decisions go beyond the domain of faith, and rule in the field of history and science. "If facts are not to our liking in the past, let us rewrite them, and make a history to suit ourselves," is the language of their acts.
We are not disposed to battle with the personalities of Mr. Ffoulkes. Perhaps he has an improper standard by which to determine the degrees of sanctity; and this is likely to be the case if the "English parsonage with its surroundings" is the norm of perfection. Where men are as mere men, we put one against another, and set forth the hundreds of converts in our own day with their experience against Mr. E. S. Ffoulkes and one or two others. Hundreds can testify that they have seen more of real piety and true devotion in the Catholic Church than they had ever dreamed possible before they knew the only mother of saints. Words are of little value, and assertions can be bandied about from one mouth to another. Deeds are the test—deeds of self-denial, patience, and unselfish charity.
As for the sincerity of those who are seeking the truth, and are in fervor at the first sight of the Catholic faith, we have only to say that so long as they are obedient to the heavenly voice which calls every honest heart to the one home of holiness, it is well with their souls. When the crisis comes, and the hour when action must decide the forward or backward march of the intellect, moved and enlightened by grace, then is God chosen for ever, or renounced. Then grace may linger around the heart which it loved, and only slowly withdraw, leaving still the attractions of nature, and the good gifts which are only for time, and bear no fruit in eternity. We would not dare to judge where grace ends and nature begins, for both orders are singularly blended in this scene of probation. But one thing we do know—God is true, though every man be a liar. He cannot fail us; his revelation cannot pass away into a fable. "The pillar and ground of the truth" standeth firm. And notwithstanding Mr. Ffoulkes's convictions, we are not afraid to trust our good works to the judgment of mankind. Tares are mixed with the wheat; the net of Peter incloses good and bad fishes, and scandals must be found even in the house of God; but nevertheless, in quiet and unostentatious beauty the true spouse of Christ is ever bringing forth fruits which, though unappreciated on earth, shall bloom beyond the skies in the sunlight of God's presence. Sacrifice is a law of Catholic piety which takes its type from Calvary and its inspiration from the Sacred Heart. We live in a different atmosphere from our Protestant brethren, and self-denial is second nature to us; self-denial practised so spontaneously that the effort and the trial are hidden in the graciousness of the Christian life. No sect, and no individuals, with some rare exceptions, have caught the spirit of our religion, which makes heroic virtue easy, and hides real sanctity in many hearts that beat only for God. If Mr. Ffoulkes did not find that perfect rest for his intellect and his heart which he expected in the Catholic Church, the reason of this is, that he never submitted himself unreservedly to her supreme and infallible authority and guidance. Humility and obedience are the touchstone of true Catholic virtue, and in both these qualities his writings and conduct show him to be singularly wanting. We wish for him a better mind, and the grace of a genuine conversion, and we trust that he may yet repair the grievous wrong he has done to religion by his unfilial and rebellious conduct toward our holy mother the Catholic Church.
Those who are not well acquainted with the condition of things in Ireland might easily suppose that the existence of the odious Established Church was the main cause of the dissatisfaction of the Irish people, and that they would, consequently, be satisfied with its disestablishment. This, however, is an error. The main grievance of the Irish people remains unredressed. There is still in the relation of landlord and tenant in that country a very prolific source of future difficulty. So far only as the payment of tithes subtracted from the scant earnings of the peasantry, the church establishment could be called an infringement on the rights of property; but its existence was looked upon rather as an encroachment upon abstract justice than as a source of material oppression. The evils of the land tenure, however, which had their origin many centuries ago, and which time has somewhat modified, but not obliterated, are of a far more serious and practical nature. The landlord, by every test which can be applied, has a legal right to his estates; yet the situation weighs heavily upon the tenant, and prostrates the country. Laws which should compel a proprietor to dispose of his property would be regarded as tending to agrarianism, and as an infringement upon private rights; but no country can be prosperous, or its people happy, while the great body of the population is dependent upon the power and caprice of a few landed monopolists. As the record of the past in this connection is an interesting one—a long story, dating still further back than the reign of Henry II., and the latter part of the twelfth century—we will review it briefly for the benefit of those who have never studied carefully or have forgotten the great wrong which for centuries has oppressed the Irish race.
In ancient times, in addition to the four grand divisions of Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught, there was another, the property of the paramount sovereign. As there does not appear to have been any rule of precedence, however, among the four kings, except that of their ability to repress their rivals by force of arms, the territory must have been very frequently in debate. These several kingdoms were subdivided into a large number of principalities, each inhabited by a distinct sept, and governed by its own chieftain, called a carfinny, or toparch. These petty chiefs were in their own dominions independent; they created laws, administered justice, made war or peace, and so long as they did not encroach upon the privileges of their superior sovereign, were unmolested and unquestioned. They were elective too; and in this respect the primitive institutions of Ireland were founded upon that execrable system which has distracted and destroyed every kingdom in which it has been attempted. The choice of toparchs was limited, however, by the laws of tanistry to noble families; and the tanist was always selected upon the accession and during the lifetime of the ruling toparch. Under such a system intrigue and conflict between the septs, and between individuals of the same sept, must have been perpetual; and it is easy to see that the conditions were prepared which would make eventual subjugation by foreign arms an easy task.
But we now come to a still more obnoxious feature of the institutions of Ireland under the Milesian rule; and it will be no relief to the miseries entailed upon this unfortunate island, that the same peculiarity, modified in other countries, existed very generally during the feudal ages. The property in each district was regarded as the common possession of the entire sept, but the distribution of the shares was intrusted to the toparch. The people themselves had absolutely no property in the soil; that right belonged exclusively to the chief, and tenants were removed whenever it suited his convenience or caprice. There were many causes that could lead to change. The death of the old toparch and the accession of a new one, the addition of new members to the sept, or the death of those already in the occupancy of a piece of soil, were some of the many causes that made the land tenure very precarious; and the custom of inheritance by gavelkind, which differed from the system of England and Wales, is thought to have perpetuated the evil. Females were excluded, and no distinction was made between legitimate and illegitimate children. The common people were divided into freemen and betages. The former had the privilege of changing their sept; but the latter were common property with the soil, and transferred with it in every deed or sale. Under a liberal government, and by the aid of a good administration, the people of Ireland might have been, in the course of seven hundred years, completely extricated from this situation; but, as we shall see in the sequel, it has been the policy of the Norman nobility in that country, if not of the English government itself, to maintain as far as possible the original condition of things. Such were the institutions of Ireland at the beginning of the ninth century, when the Danish monarch Turgesius overran the entire island, and subjugated the inhabitants to his authority. His dominion was of short duration, however; for at the battle of Clontarf, fought on Good-Friday, A.D. 1014, the celebrated Brien Boiroimhe gave him a permanent leave of absence from the five provinces, and a limited monarchy in the seaports. But the factions inherent in the Irish system of government at that time placed the national independence at the mercy of a foreign aggressor, and the ambition of the Norman element in England soon marked the island as a prize worthy an adventure at arms.
The immediate cause of the invasion was the act of young Dermod McMurchaid, King of Leinster, who ran off with the beautiful Devorghal, wife of O'Rourke, and princess of Breffny. Having, by reason of this outrage, been driven from his kingdom, he invited Richard Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, and Robert Fitzstephen, to his assistance. Thus the dissensions among the Irish princes opened the way for the adventure of the Norman noblemen. A few hundred Norman cavaliers, followed by comparatively a handful of infantry, were sufficient to secure a permanent footing, an event most singular when we take into consideration the military record which those people have made since that period. But the Irish have always shown a capacity to fight better in any other cause than their own. True, the Norman adventurers from England did not succeed immediately in the subjugation of the entire island. Their dominion was limited to a small area; but they found and used those elements of discord among the native rulers which made their situation impregnable against those who still cherished the idea of freedom and independence. The Irish were worsted in every considerable conflict; not so much, perhaps, through the superiority of their adversaries as by reason of their own disunion.
The new rulers endeavored only to consolidate their power, and made no effort for the reformation of existing institutions. If they found a large proportion of the inhabitants in a condition akin to serfdom, there was certainly no motive why they should desire to change the situation. It only gave them more personal consideration and power. Hence, we find that Strongbow and his associates had hardly established themselves in their new dominions before they strove to perpetuate the old customs of tenure and descent. The distinction between the new settlers and the natives was carefully preserved; and the benefit of English laws permitted only to Normans, to the citizens of seaport towns,—who were still, it is to be presumed, in great part Danes—and to a few who had received charters of denization as a matter of personal favor. Five septs only, say the historians, were received within the English pale, and the rest were all accounted aliens or enemies, who, even down to the reign of Elizabeth, had no rights which an Englishman was bound to respect.
The Great Charter, wrested from King John, and confirmed by Henry III., did not benefit Ireland. English laws and jurisprudence were extended over those portions of the island known as the English pale, and during the reign of King John the lands subject to the crown were divided into counties, sheriffs appointed, and supreme courts of law established in Dublin. But these improvements were made rather as a convenience for the English than for the protection of the native inhabitants. During the reign of Edward I., we read that Lord De Clare, connected by marriage with the Geraldines, then the most powerful Norman house in Ireland, was granted extensive domains in Thomond. No regard was paid to the rights of native possessors in this transfer, and though a war, in which the new proprietor was defeated by O'Brien, an Irish chieftain, was the result, no considerable advantages seem to have been derived from the conflict. At the close of the century, we are told that all hopes of independence were resigned, and eight thousand marks offered to the king for the rights of British subjects. No doubt the cupidity of the monarch would have been gratified by so profitable a disposal of privileges, but the favor was not granted by reason of the opposition of the local aristocracy. At the first constitutional parliament, summoned in 1295 by Sir John Wogan, several judicious acts are said to have been passed; but we are unable to see in what manner they operated in favor of the native inhabitants. After the war caused by the invasion of Ireland by Edward Bruce, in the year 1315, the exaction of "coyne and livery" by the impoverished barons first appears, and the method of supporting an army by quartering it on the people was instituted. During a period of active hostilities, and upon the territory of an enemy, such an expedient may be pardonable; but in a country regulated by what was nominally a domestic government it would be hard to perpetrate an act of grosser tyranny.
To afford an idea of the situation of the native inhabitants at this period, we will instance the statute of Kilkenny, passed in the year 1367, by a parliament summoned by the Duke of Clarence. This precious bit of legal wisdom provides that marriage, fosterage, or gossipred with the Irish, or submission to the Irish law, should be regarded as high treason, and punished accordingly. This fosterage or gossipred, of which the English legislators were so fearful, was the practice, traditional among the Irish, of allowing the children of the nobility to be nursed by the wives of the peasantry; and the custom was thought to encourage a sentiment of reciprocal kindness between the lower and the higher orders of the population. The statute also declared that if any man of English descent should adopt an Irish name, be guilty of speaking the Irish language, or follow any of the customs of the country, he should forfeit his estate, or give security for better conduct. It made penal the act of presenting an Irishman to any benefice, or his reception into any monastery. It also forbade the entertainment of any native bard, minstrel, or story-teller; or the granting of permission for an Irish horse to graze in the pasture of a loyal English subject. To such a degree had risen the follies of the dominant race in Ireland in the last half of the fourteenth century.
During the reign of Henry VII. we begin to witness that struggle between the Anglo-Irish nobility and the crown which, in the end, without improving the condition of the masses, was the means of breaking down many noble houses, and still further adding to the distresses of the country. In the parliament of 1494, the act known as Poyning's law was passed. Its enactment was secured by Sir Edward Poyning, lord-deputy of the island, and its purpose was to prevent the assembling of an Irish parliament without the consent of the king. It is easy to see in such an act, however wise it might have been considered, the dawn of fresh conflicts of authority.
During the life of Queen Mary, we have an instance of what fearful infamy could be perpetrated under the system of the Irish land tenure. The septs of O'More and O'Carroll, two chiefs who, under a previous reign, had been arrested, thrown into prison, and left there to perish, claimed that their lands could not be justly forfeited through the offence of their toparchs; but that the ground was the property of the clans, and inalienable save through their own acts. An army was the only response to this reasonable claim, and the inhabitants were forcibly ejected. But not this only. The butcheries that signalized the act were such as to make the event infamous in history; and, in the language of a native historian, "the fires of the burning huts were slaked in the blood of the inhabitants." O'Fally and Leix, the territory occupied by the unfortunate septs, were converted into King's and Queen's counties, and the principal towns were called Philipstown and Maryborough, in commemoration of the queen and her husband. This transaction was one of the first fruits of the coming supremacy of the crown over the local aristocracy.
We now come to the reign of Elizabeth, a woman celebrated alike for her capacity and her vices; and such was her force of character, and the consummate ability of her rule, that she has impressed her policy upon the history of Ireland more deeply than any other sovereign. We have not the space to attempt to follow the incidents of this turbulent period; but must be satisfied with a short statement of the policy of Elizabeth as it seems to have been developed in her measures. When the queen was cautioned against the turbulent and designing character of O'Neill, an Irish chief, and Earl of Tyrone, she is said to have replied that she did not care for his rebellion, as it would give her possession of more lands with which to reward her faithful servants. Historians have endeavored to explain away the meaning of this expression, by attributing it to a desire to silence the enemies of the Irish nobleman; but since, from the beginning to the end of her reign, the history of Ireland proves that she acted as though determined to better the instruction, we have to conclude that in a spirit of levity she had inadvertently unmasked her deliberate policy. From first to last it is only a story of rebellions provoked for the purpose of destroying some Irish nobleman, that an English sycophant might be put in possession of his estates.
The reign of James I., which began in 1603, is regarded by English historians as favorable to Ireland; but how, it is difficult to understand. In some respects the regulations of this king were perhaps advantageous. The introduction of English law over the entire island, the abolition of tanistry and gavelkind, and the more general institution of courts of justice, had public sentiment been healthy, might have eventuated in great advantages; but the spirit of religious persecution, which was now becoming implacable, served to keep alive the animosity of the races, and all improvement was more theoretic than real. Previous to this time, patents for English tenure had been granted only to great lords and chieftains; while their vassals, still retaining their own laws and customs, owed no direct allegiance to the crown. Under the new regulation, estates were to descend by the course of common law, and the people were placed within its operation; but they had really no more interest in the soil than formerly. The king was merely substituted for the toparchs, and while the chiefs were humiliated, their subjects were not made more independent. The land held in demesne by the chieftain was all that was left under his absolute control, but his tenants were subject to an annual rent.
Another project, which originated in the fertile brain of Queen Elizabeth, we believe, but which was not successfully executed until the reign of James I., deserves especial notice. This was a plan for driving out the native settlers, that their places might be filled by adventurers from England. Six counties out of the thirty-two into which Ireland was then divided were appropriated for carrying out the experiment, and cut up into portions of one thousand, fifteen hundred, and two thousand acres each. The largest of these estates were for undertakers and servitors of the crown, consisting of great officers of state, and rich adventurers from England; those of the second-class were for servants of the crown in Ireland, and might be peopled by either English or Irish tenants; and those of the third were for natives of the province, when it suited the undertakers to permit them to cultivate the soil. This scheme of cruelty was followed by another, of a still more atrocious character—the search after defective titles. In the long period of civil commotions which preceded the reign of James I., it is to be presumed that many were occupying lands for which they could not show a very clear claim. If the crown could get possession of property through the simple loss of the proof on the part of the occupant that he was entitled to his inheritance, a source of great public profit would be opened out. Eighty-two thousand five hundred acres were by this means apportioned to English settlers, and the national exchequer was correspondingly enriched. Yet in spite of such transactions as these, the reign of King James has been pronounced a happy one for Ireland!
At the time of the accession of Charles I., Ireland was treated simply as a conquered province, not as an integral portion of the British empire, and its inhabitants still looked upon as aliens and enemies. They had no rights which the officers sent by royal authority, and controlled by cupidity, were obliged to respect, and the very desire for the possession of a piece of land inherited by a proprietor of native descent was sufficient reason for an act of attainder for treason or a search after defective titles. To such an extent was this latter species of iniquity carried that, during the first years of the reign of Charles I., and under the administration of Stafford as lord-deputy, more than a quarter of a million of acres were wrested from the real proprietors, and transferred to the hands of English adventurers. Even jurors who sat upon the causes in dispute were imprisoned, and excessive fines imposed, if they refused compliance with the wishes of the king's lieutenant.
Under these circumstances, it was only natural that the Irish should look about for some means of redress. Property was becoming daily less secure; for the successful practice of this species of plunder was a continual encouragement to fresh outrage; and there was no estimate of the degree to which the injury might be carried. But the remedies proposed in the beginning were peaceful. The lords and gentry met together and drew up a bill of rights, and offered to pay a large sum of money for the royal assent. This measure, known as the Charter of Graces, by one of its provisions proposed to limit the title of the king in lands to sixty years. Changes also were asked in the penal code, and a clause was inserted forbidding the lord-deputy, during his term of office, from coming in possession of land either by purchase or confiscation. The demands were in every respect temperate, and nothing more was asked than a reasonable security for private property, and such privileges as the dignity and self-respect of the subject would require. The king, when the charter was first presented for his signature, was inclined to look upon its provisions with favor; but through the influence, it is said, of Lord Strafford, he was induced to withhold his approval. But while this subject was agitating with alternate hopes and fears the minds of the Irish people, a new measure, or rather an extension of the old system, was planned by the lord-deputy. The success of the English colonization scheme, undertaken in Ulster during the reign of James I., had opened the way for still another attempt at dispossessing the native population of their lands; and Connaught was selected as the next field for operations. This second experiment would probably have proved as successful as the first, if the inevitable fruit of so much tyranny had not come to its maturity.
The uprising of the Irish population in 1641 occurred under more favorable auspices than any previous one, and had they made a united effort for absolute independence, England could not have resisted the forces which were brought into the field against her. But the confederates, as the Irish party was called, were composed of elements too much at variance among themselves to meet with permanent success. The Anglo-Irish inhabitants, or those of English descent, who were looking simply to the security of their property, and exemption from the tyranny of local officers, had no bond of union with the native Irish, who sought the complete recovery of their lost liberties and the rehabilitation of their ancient institutions. Here was a cause for faction which their enemies readily understood, and by which they as readily profited. The Anglo-Irish were afraid of the resumption of power by the descendants of the native chieftains, and it was natural that they should seek to avoid such a result. Nevertheless, led by officers whose exile from their country in former years had been the means of raising them to eminence in the armies of France, Spain, and Germany, the confederates were very successful, and obtained possession of almost the entire island. The peasantry came down from the mountains, whither they had been driven years before to give place to the English colonists, and, without bloodshed, again took peaceable possession of their lost domains. Owen O'Niel, an officer who had done eminent service on the continent, was the ruling spirit of the movement, and it was through his management and address that the confederacy was enabled to maintain such formidable proportions. But the various incidents of that struggle, prolonged through several years, and ending finally during the dictatorship of Cromwell, belong rather to history than to such an article as this, and we must restrict our attention to the results that followed upon the triumph of the English arms.
The troops that Cromwell had brought into Ireland were the most puritanical of his entire army. He had probably at this period begun to indulge in regal aspirations; and hence he desired the removal from England of the more ultra republican and radical of his followers. It is likewise probable that he selected this class of men because their religious fanaticism would make them more zealous in the cause. In the final settlement of the country, as Ulster and Connaught were already the property of the colonists, and not subject to confiscation, the two remaining provinces of Munster and Leinster had to satisfy the claims of the army, and were accordingly portioned out to the followers of Cromwell. The property of the lords and gentry who had joined the confederation was ruthlessly confiscated. The peasantry who had survived the long war were reduced to a state akin to slavery, and many indeed, by order of Cromwell, were sold in the Barbadoes, and in other dependencies of Great Britain. About 200,000 people in all, it is estimated, left the island, of whom 40,000 entered the various armies of continental Europe. These comprised all classes; as to the peasantry who remained, some estimate may be formed of their privileges when we state that they were forbidden to leave their parishes, or to assemble together for public worship, or for any other purpose whatever. The Cromwellian soldiers of every grade, from privates to commanding officers, had taken possession of the estates; and these were the new lords to whom allegiance was due, and by whom it was most rigidly exacted.
But the commonwealth was already crumbling to pieces. The death of Cromwell, and the dissatisfaction caused by a government which was aristocratic and despotic without being regal, soon paved the way for the accession of Charles II., and revived the hopes of those who had been unjustly deprived of their estates at the close of the war. From first to last the Anglo-Irish portion of the confederates claimed that they had been contending for Charles I., and only against his enemies and the parliament. Of the fact that they had desired simply protection, and had been more loyal than disloyal to the throne, there was abundant evidence; and it was to be presumed that the new king would look with more favor upon their claims than upon those of their opponents. To the end of recovering their property, therefore, they began to petition the king in great numbers. That there might be a semblance of justice, a court of claims was established for the ostensible purpose of adjudication. But it was soon evident that there was no intention of dispossessing the new proprietors; and when it was found that, without the most gross and palpable violations of right, it would be impossible frequently not to decide in favor of the former occupants of the confiscated estates, the court was adjourned, and was never allowed to hold another session. Many thousands, by this act, were irretrievably ruined. The Duke of Ormond, prominent throughout the rebellion, played an important part, to the disadvantage of his countrymen, in these transactions, and added enormously to his own estates. At the beginning of the rebellion his property had been about nine tenths encumbered; but by securing an act transferring all encumbrances to the king, and then obtaining a release from his obligations in that quarter, he freed himself from all his difficulties.
When James II. ascended the English throne, about two thirds of the private property of Ireland appears to have been in dispute. The dispossessed proprietors were still clamoring for their rights, and the Cromwellian settlers and the colonists were as sturdily adhering to their claims, and ready at any time to defend their new possessions by either legitimate or illegitimate means. The reign of James from the beginning was weak. The trifling rebellions in Scotland and England which disturbed the first years of his authority were easily quelled, it is true; but he seems to have been intoxicated by his success, and led to the support of measures which were not advised by either prudence or good judgment. The spirit of religious intolerance was at this time most active and implacable. It had been many years since the separation of the English Church from the Catholic authority, and the time might have been thought propitious for something like a recognition of equality between religious bodies; but James endeavored to promote the interest of Catholicity with a zeal that was not to be tolerated by the Protestant bigotry of the day, and many of his acts gave great offence. Of this character was the appointment of the Earl of Tyrconnel, a Roman Catholic, first to the command of the Irish army, and afterward to the government of Ireland itself. The Protestant inhabitants of that country, who knew by what a doubtful claim they held their estates, could not fail of taking the alarm and looking forward to the day when there would be an attempt made to dispossess them of the disputed property. The event proved, indeed, that their fears were not groundless. The act of settlement, the measure upon which the Protestant proprietors depended for the possession of their lands, became immediately the subject in debate; and it was soon evident that its repeal was intended. To comprehend fully the magnitude of such an undertaking, it will be necessary to glance at the situation of the island at this period, and see to what an extent the inhabitants of the country had been plundered of their property. The whole number of acres of land in Ireland was estimated at above 10,400,000, and of this amount 3,000,000 acres were unproductive. This would leave about 7,000,000 acres of arable and pasture land, and 5,000,000 of these, during the reign of Charles I., were still in the hands of Catholic proprietors. Then followed the revolution with the irruption of Cromwell's followers. The situation became greatly changed. At the time of the passage of the act of settlement, only about 800,000 acres remained in the hands of Catholic proprietors. Of the remainder, 800,000 acres were under the control of the government, but leased to Protestants, and 3,300,000 had gone to reward the prowess of the Protector's soldiers. This property had now been in the hands of its present occupants, or absentee landlords, for nearly forty years. To repeal the act which settled all this broad inheritance upon the adventurers was undoubtedly the intention of James; and although this was not the only charge which the British aristocracy and people made against their unpopular sovereign, it was a powerful influence in the train of events that seated the Prince of Orange on the English throne.
Exiled from London, the unfortunate James fled to Dublin. The Irish parliament of 1689, which was summoned by his authority, besides repudiating the jurisdiction of the English courts of law and of the English parliament, and proclaiming the independence of the Irish legislature, repealed the act of settlement; but, as the event proved, these acts were the mere mockery of regal and legislative enactments, and were not productive of even a temporary advantage to his adherents. The Prince of Orange, now recognized as King William of England, came in person to Ireland, and the two kings confronted each other at the battle of the Boyne. History has told the story of the discomfiture and inglorious flight of James, and of the prolonged and desperate struggle which the Irish afterward maintained against their adversaries; until finally the treaty of Limerick confirmed and strengthened the English in their possessions. Some concessions were made to the Irish, it is true, but they were of a character that affected religion more than the tenure of property; and at the final settlement, we are told, only 233,106 acres of land remained in the hands of Catholic proprietors.
This was the last great event that influenced to a considerable degree the tenure of property in Ireland. After a struggle of about five hundred years, we find the island completely at the feet of the conquerors, and the descendants of the native inhabitants with no inheritance, or next to none, upon their own territory. We might have heightened the picture by recounting the assassinations and butcheries of the various wars, the outrages of military government, and the refined cruelties of religious persecution; but these things did not enter into the purpose of this article, and we have confined ourselves to simple statements of facts in their relation to the tenure of property. We have endeavored to trace the means by which the great bulk of the real estate on the island has been transferred from those whose descent entitled them to a proprietary interest in the soil to a class of foreign and frequently absentee landlords, who manifest no interest in the country or the people save by the annual collection of their tenant dues. It cannot have failed to impress the reader that the purpose of the English government, from the beginning, has been to crush out and destroy as far as practicable the native inhabitants, and to supply their place with a foreign population. To this end only could have been designed the various colonization schemes that distinguished the reigns of James I. and Charles II.; the different edicts of expulsion, and the readiness with which the English government has always advanced the wishes of those who contemplated a voluntary expatriation from their native country. But in despite of all this, the proportional native population of the island has steadily increased, while in both Great Britain and America the Irish people have become a formidable power. Their complaints and demands for redress of grievances can no longer be passed by in silent contempt. The land question must be settled upon some basis that will not merely place the Irish peasantry upon the footing of an independent tenantry, but will enable every laborer to look forward to the eventual possession of a portion of the soil, that thus a fitting stimulus and reward may be offered to thrift and industry.
A lovely afternoon in September was drawing to its close; the shadows were long upon the pavement, and a gentle breeze brought the fragrance of heliotrope and late roses over the wall from a garden adjoining a handsome house in the old and well-known town of N——. The hall-door opened and shut behind a young woman who walked rather wearily down the steps and along the street. It was evident that she was not thinking of the sun, nor the breeze, nor the sweet breath of the flowers; she looked neither to the right nor to the left, and yet her steps seemed listless and without an aim.
Her dress was plain, plain almost to poverty, and without the slightest attempt at ornament, yet it would have been impossible to pass her without notice. She was tall and graceful, and her features were very handsome; but that was not what would have attracted your attention; there was a something which told she was a lady—not perhaps in the truest meaning of the word, as it may be applied to a servant-girl or an apple-woman whose instincts are refined and Christian; but you felt that she was well-born and well-bred, and that her tastes were such as would not well accord with her coarse dress and shabby bonnet. True, if you had been a close observer, you might have seen that her boots were very pretty, her gloves of the best kid, very fresh and unworn at the finger-tips, and it might have surprised you to see that on her ungloved hand sparkled a splendid ruby. But enough for exterior description; the face, though so fair, was clouded and preoccupied, and as she walked she drew a letter from her pocket and glanced at its contents.
"He appoints seven o'clock to meet me," she said to herself, "on the stone seat outside the Catholic church. A strange place to choose! I wish it had been somewhere else! Yet why should I care? What is that church to me more than another? And soon I shall give my promise that it shall be less than every other. It is a kind offer, a generous offer; but I will not exchange you"—here she gave a contemptuous twitch to her dress—"for a better till my wedding day. He and every one shall see that I consider myself his equal, even in these shabby clothes. O dear me! how tired I am! How that wretched child insisted on playing discords with the pedal! I will not go home, it is so far; but rest somewhere, and think how I can accept him most graciously. I might as well sit on the stone seat here outside the church; the shade of that tree looks inviting."
Agnes—for that was the name of the girl whose reverie we have put into words for the benefit of our readers—had come to the pretty church where Mr. Redfern had appointed to meet her. She sat down on the bench outside, and we will take this opportunity to tell who she was and why she waited there.
Agnes Deblois was the only child of Catholic parents; they were wealthy, and as she was their idol, she was surrounded with friends, comforts, and pleasures; with every thing, in short, that makes life bright and beautiful. She had been carefully instructed and trained in her religion by her excellent and fond mother; and it was a great misfortune to her when this pious lady died, leaving her daughter, at the age of seventeen, to the care of a father who was a negligent and unpractical Catholic. Agnes was devoted to her father, and, influenced by his example and by the ridicule of her worldly friends, she allowed herself gradually to abandon her habits of piety and the duties of her religion. After three years, during which Agnes had been engrossed by the engagements and excitements of life "in society," her father also died; when it was discovered not only that he had lived beyond his means, but that he was even largely in debt. By selling house, silver, and estate, Agnes was enabled to satisfy all the creditors, and, finding herself almost without a dollar, she looked around for her friends, whose protestations of devotion she recalled, and to whose sympathy she naturally turned. But she was shocked at the change she found even in those of whose fidelity she had felt sure.
She was offered assistance, it was true, and even a home, yet with a coldness and constraint which showed she was considered in the light of a burden. From being almost crushed by the grief of her bereavement, her spirit rose as the bitterness of her situation became apparent, and she very soon resolved to be indebted to no one either for home or for bread. Her education had been thorough and superior; for music she had a rare talent, and she found it easy to obtain as many pupils as her strength would allow her to attend to. She threw herself into her new duties with an ardor which arose from wounded pride, but which was destined to grow cool as the irksomeness of the daily routine and unloveliness of the continual presence of poverty wore upon her. It was hateful to her to be poor; to wear clothes which, however neat and even pretty she might make them, must still be plain and cheap. So she gave up all attempt at ornament, and took a bitter pleasure in wearing what was coarsest and most unattractive for her dress, though allowing herself, as she was able, what was best in such small articles as gloves, and still wearing the handsome jewels she had preserved from her former life. For this she was greatly blamed, and even reproved by those who called themselves her friends, and who were scandalized at the bad taste of wearing dresses which a beggar might despise with ornaments which, it must be confessed, were handsomer than their own; but Agnes paid no attention, and went on her own difficult and joyless path.
Formerly she had neglected her religion from carelessness and human respect; now she kept away from church because she was always tired and always sad, and because she no longer cared for the faith of her mother and of her own happy childhood. But now a wonderful thing had happened to her. She had come to this beautiful and fashionable place in the summer because her pupils were there, and because, as she took pleasure in saying, she wanted their money, and at the house of the richest and proudest of them all she had seen Mr. Redfern, a man of immense wealth, who had noticed her, found opportunities of paying her attentions, and now had asked her to marry him. She had his letter in her pocket, and she took it out once more as she sat outside the church, and read a passage from it:
"The only thing I ask of you is this: that you will give up, now and for ever, all interest in the Romish Church."
"A needless request," she said, and laughed as she said it, while her heart gave a leap as she thought of herself at the head of Mr. Redfern's handsome house, sitting in state behind his high-stepping grays, or receiving the keys from the hands of the obsequious housekeeper.
A very old woman passed her and entered the church, bowing herself low as she crossed the sacred threshold. Agnes watched her.
"I wonder if it is a pretty church inside? I think I have heard that it is pretty."
Feeling impatient at the slowly passing time, she rose and walked through the door, and up the middle aisle. There were no doors to the pews, and seeing one that was cushioned, she entered it, sat down, and leaning back, looked carelessly round her.
It was indeed a pretty church; the softened sunbeams streamed through the stained glass of the Gothic windows, and fell in purple and gold lights on the stone floor, flickering as the old elms outside moved gently to and fro in the west wind. She saw the old woman she had before noticed, kneeling before a picture, then leaving it with many bows and courtesies, and going to another. What was she about? Oh! she was saying the stations. Agnes remembered the stations—those fourteen grievous steps in the Passion of our Lord from his trial in Pilate's house to his burial in the sepulchre, at the close of his three hours' agony on the cross.
"Poor old thing! how her back must ache. Why does she do it? Why, she is crying, wiping her eyes with her apron, and lifting her hands to heaven! Is that for her own sorrows, or those of her Saviour?"
Agnes was interested; she sat up and looked about her.
"There are two little children coming up the aisle. Do see them bob up and down and cross themselves! Oh! now they are saying their prayers."
Why should Agnes see them indistinctly? Why impatiently brush something from her eyes? Ah! the picture of her childish days rose before her, and she was for a moment once more a little child....
What nonsense! She had other things to think of now. She would have a purple satin dress just the color of that pretty light on the floor. It was fading away; it must be near sunset. At that moment came from a choir of sweet young voices:
"Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!"
She turned and saw the children practising for their Sunday-school Mass, led by an excellent tenor; and leaning her head on her hand, she listened; for so she thought the angelic choirs must sound.
"Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!"
She knew what those words meant. Had she not often sung them herself in days long past? Those dear old days!
Disturbed by a slight noise, Agnes glanced around; she saw an old and venerable-looking man with gray hair, whose long black dress fell to his feet, come up the side aisle and enter a confessional, round which silently gathered a few women, kneeling till their turns should come. A vague fear took possession of her heart, and she quickly rose to leave the church; but something stopped her, and she stood as if riveted to the earth.
What was it? Only a light, a feeble flame, which shone in a vase hanging before the high altar. She had not noticed it before, the sun had been so bright; but it was there all the time, and would be there when she had turned her back upon it. Whose presence did the light reveal? Who was it that waited day and night upon that holy altar? Alone, unknown, forgotten—yes, and betrayed.
She uttered no sound; but her heart gave a great cry as she fell upon her knees.
"Kyrie eleison! Christe eleison!" Those innocent voices still prolonged the hymn, though what was their need of mercy compared with hers? But the thought came to her that perhaps those invocations of God's mercy by the little lambs of his fold would ascend in his sight not for them, but for her, for the strayed sheep; and thinking thus, she felt herself comforted. Kneeling motionless with her head bowed on her hands, she did not pray, nor weep, but only saw.
She saw herself a little child robed in white, one of a band of many little ones, with her shining veil, a true marriage garment, receiving at the altar for the first time her God and Saviour.
She saw herself again, still a child, but older, kneeling again to receive the bishop's hand on her forehead, and hearing the sacred words, Signo te signo crucis. Confirmo te chrismate salutis.[149]
She saw her mother lying pale and faint, but with eyes full of light and peace, and heard those dying words, "My only child, remember that he who is ashamed of the Son of Man here, of him will He be ashamed before His Father in heaven. Remember that, and remember your best Friend." Who was that Friend?
She saw herself not once, but many, many times, blushing at the name of her faith, hearing it despised and turned into ridicule; at last denying it and becoming a scoffer herself. Whom had she denied and despised?
She thought of the friends who had deserted her, and the answer came, "Because I have deserted my best Friend."
She remembered her weary labors and thankless efforts, and a voice replied, "But my yoke is sweet, and my burden light."
She said to herself, "But there is one who has offered me enough to pay for all I have lost;" and once more the Holy Ghost spoke to her heart, "Come unto me, you that labor and are burdened, and I will refresh you."
That was meant for her; that was what she wanted for her weary, troubled soul. "For the life is more than the meat, and the body more than the raiment."
The voices of the children were silent as she once more rose and looked about her. There was no one kneeling at the altar now; shadows had fallen deeply upon the pavement; she was alone in the church. No! for yonder at the window stood the priest, holding his breviary up high to catch the fading light. What was he waiting for? Who was it that waited long, long hours in that holy tribunal of penance for the straying, lost sheep to come back to the fold? Her every question was answered, and, urged by an impulse she could not resist, she rose and hurried to the confessional, thinking as she cast an imploring glance toward the priest, "Will he see me? Will he come and save me?"
She knelt trembling, scarcely daring to breathe, till she heard his step approaching, and in a moment the long unheard, yet strangely familiar words, "Dominus sit in corde tuo et in labiis tuis, ut rite confitearis omnia peccata tua."[150]
"Well, my child?"
Well may we let the curtain drop, not to penetrate that sacred confidence. O poor soul! thou art safe. There are hymns of joy and thanksgiving ascending to the eternal Father; for we know "there is joy before the angels of God upon one sinner doing penance."
Half an hour later, as the clock struck seven, Mr. Redfern stood at the church door, and asked an old woman whom, with beads in hand, he met hobbling out, if she had seen a young lady waiting there.
"No," she answered readily; "but there was a beautiful lady inside, on her knees before the holy Mother of God. Bless her sweet face!"
With a terrible fear in his heart, he entered the church, and stood beside a form bowed before the altar dedicated to the Immaculate Mother. He touched her arm, and Agnes raised her face, suffused with happy tears, yet smiling. She looked at him bewildered—for she had forgotten all about him—as he said, in a whisper,
"Have you lost your senses? Come with me. I want to speak to you."
She rose obediently and followed him to the door. The tall tree-tops waved in the breeze, and the young moon stood in the sky. She was still silent, motionless, and he said in a hoarse voice, that trembled in spite of his efforts to control it, "Are you coming with me?"
"No," she answered, "I must go back; I cannot leave It yet."
"What do you mean? I came for an answer to my letter. Have you read it?"
She made a strong effort, and replied, "Yes, I read it; but I have found peace and my faith again, and I forgot that you were coming. O Mr. Redfern! for years I have been ashamed of the Son of God; but I did not remember, till to-day, that he would be ashamed of me before his Father. How could I bear that? But now he has forgiven me, and made me happy, oh! so happy. I must go back to him." And she looked at the door.
Mr. Redfern stood speechless for a moment. "I could not have a papist wife," he said slowly. "So this is my answer, is it?"
But Agnes had already turned away, and in a moment more was kneeling again beneath that faithful light, forgetting all but her love and gratitude; and as the lamps were lighted in the choir, the children's glad and rapturous voices chanted,
"Gloria in excelsis Deo, et in terra pax hominibus bonæ voluntatis."