Aspirations.

"O Death! thou teacher true and rough!Full oft I fear that we have erred,And have not loved enough;But, O ye friends! this side of Acheron,Who cling to me to-day,I shall not know my love till ye are goneAnd I am gray!Fair women, with your loving eyes,Old men that once my footsteps led,Sweet children—much as all I prize,Until the sacred dust of death be shedUpon each dear and venerable head,I cannot love you as I love the dead!"But now, the natural man being sown,We can more lucidly beholdThe spiritual one:For we, till time shall end,Full visibly shall see our friendIn all his hands did mould—That worn and patient hand that lies so cold!"

On a Palm-Sunday, as he wends his way to the bedside of a dying young convert, he begs of a little Catholic girl a twig of the blessed palm she is carrying home. Whereupon he extemporizes the following:

"To A Young Girl Dying:With A Gift Of Fresh Palm-leaves.

"This is Palm-Sunday: mindful of the day, I bring palm branches, found upon my way: But these will wither; thine shall never die— The sacred palms thou bearest to the sky! Dear little saint, though but a child in years, Older in wisdom than my gray compeers!Wedoubt and tremble—we, with 'bated breath, Talk of this mystery of life and death; Thou, strong in faith, art gifted to conceive Beyond thy years, and teach us to believe!"Then take my palms, triumphal, to thy home, Gentle white palmer, never more to roam! Only, sweet sister, give me, ere thou go'st, Thy benediction—for my love thou know'st! We, too, are pilgrims, travelling toward the shrine: Pray that our pilgrimage may end like thine!"

Mr. Parsons's poetical gift manifests itself most sensibly in what might be called "fugitive pieces." They are gems, like the above, and as they are offered to the reader they are at once set in the most fitting corner of his heart. We regret our limited space will not allow us to transcribe the poemsTo Magdalen, "Mary from whom were cast out seven devils;" or the death ofMary Booth; or theVespers on the Shores of the Mediterranean, when the Italian mariner

"In mare irato in subita procellaInvoca Te nostra benigna Stella."

But we must be allowed to quote one little poem; an impromptu one, written on the death of a Catholic prelate (February 13th, 1866) whose memory is held in benediction by a vast number of our readers:

"Son of St. Patrick, John, the best of men,Boston's blest bishop bids good-by again.Not long ago we parted on the shore,And said farewell—nor thought to see him more:That brain so weary, and that heart so wornWith many cares! The parting made us mourn.But he came back—he could not die in Rome.Tho' well might those bones rest by Peter's dome,Or Ara Coeil—and the sacred stairThat climbs the Capitol—or anywhereIn that queen city. …"Scholar and friend! old schoolfellow, though farPast me in learning, that was ne'er a barTo our free intercourse; for thou hadst thineOne muse to worship—leaving me the nine.Thy faith was large, even in thy fellow-men:And it pleased thee to patronize my penWhen I turned Horace into English rhyme,And thought myself a poet for the time,In Latin school-days—but, alas! thy shroudDrives from remembrance all this gathering crowdOf tender images; farewell to all!I cannot think of these beside thy pall.Thine, good Fitzpatrick, noble heir of thoseWho went before thee—Fenwick and Bordeaux'sGentle apostle Cheverus, and Toussaud—Whom in my boyhood I was blest to know."But the bell moves me. Christian, fare thee well.I loved my bishop and I mind his bell."

Let us now approach our subject more closely. But here the difficulty is how to enable our readers, who are not acquainted with the original Italian, to appreciate the fidelity of the American translator—a fidelity the beauty whereof consists in that Mr. Parsons translates almostliterallyand at the same time his translationispoetry. After all, he is not entitled to extraordinary praise who, being endowed with poetical genius, catches the sense of the original and gives it in foreign verses. The best plan seems to us to give the text, then a literal (pedantic or lineal) translation, and afterward Parsons's. Thus, for instance, Dante reads on the architrave over the entrance to hell:

[Transcriber's Note: The arrangement of the text of pages 217, 218, and 219 is confusing, including two parallel renderings and numerous footnotes. The renderings have been placed in sequential order and the footnotes placed following the references.]

"Per me si va nella città dolente. [Footnote 93]Per me si va nell' eterno dolore:Per me si va tra la perduta [Footnote 94] gente.Giustizia mosse 'l mio alto Fattore:Fecemi la divina Potestate,La somma Sapienza, e 'l primo Amore.Dinanzi a me non fur cose create,Se non eterne, ed io eterna duro:Lasciate ogni speranza, voi, che 'ntrate."

[Footnote 93:Dolentemeans sorrow without any mixture of hope—wailing and gnashing of teeth.]

[Footnote 94:Perduta, in the sense of thatpecunia sit tibi in perditionem, (Acts viii. 20,) absolute condemnation.Uemo perdutoin Italian is theruptus disruptusqueof Cicero, a "gone" man, beyond all hope of moral recovery.]

To wit:

Through me you go into the doleful city;through me you go into eternal grief;through me you go among the lost people.Justice moved my lofty Builder;Divine Power made me;and the supreme Wisdom and the first Love.Ere me were no things created—unless eternal, and I eternal last;relinquish all hope, you who enter.

Now compare with Parsons's:

"Through me you reach the City of Despair:Through me eternal wretchedness ye find:Through me among perdition's tribe ye fare.Justice inspired my lofty Founder's mind:Power, Love, and Wisdom—Heavenly First Most High—Created me. Before me naught had beenSave things eternal—and eterne am I:Leave ye all hope, O ye who enter in!"

Can any translation be more literal? Can it be more faithful? We have tried to find fault with it, but gave it up in despair; yea, the more we strain our critical eye, the more perfectly does the original beauty appear reflected in the translation. It is not the reflection of the mirror; it is the reflection of the sun's light on the moon's face.

To economize room, we shall give no more text: we will only add a lineal translation by way of note, presuming on the reader for his trust in our knowledge of both languages, and in our honesty.

The long extract we are going to make is, perhaps, the noblest specimen of descriptive poetry in the Italian language. It is, however, founded on a historical mistake, inasmuch as Ugolino was starved to death not by Archbishop Ruggieri, but by Guido da Montefeltro, Lord of Pisa. The true account runs thus: Ugolino dei Gherardeschi, Count of Donovatico, and a Guelf, had, with the connivance of the archbishop, made himself master of Pisa. But having put to death a nephew of Ruggieri, and sold some castles to the Florentines, that prelate, at the head of an infuriated mob, and aided by Gualandi, Sismondi, and Lanfranchi, three powerful leaders, attacked the count in his own palace, and made him prisoner with his two sons Gaddo and Uguccione, and three nephews, Ugolino Brigata, Arrigo, and Anselmuccio. Thus bound, they were all thrown into the donjons of the Tower at the Three Roads. Montefeltro, having meanwhile got the power into his own hands, forbade any food to be administered to his prisoner rival, whereby Ugolino and the rest died of hunger. Dante, (Inferno, c. xxxii. and xxxiii.,) admitted to the ninth circle, or bolgia, on entering that part of it which was called Antenora, witnessed the horrible punishment of the traitor and of the murderer:

[Transcriber's note: Rendering 1]

"In a single gap,Fast froze together other two I saw,So that one head was his companion's cap:And as a famished man a crust might gnaw,So gnawed the upper one the wretch beneath,Just where the neck-bone's marrow joins the brain:Not otherwise did Tydeus fix his teethOn Menalippus' temples in disdain.While thus he mumbled skull and hair and all,I cried: 'Ho! thou who show'st such bestial hateOf him on whom thy ravenous teeth so fall,Why feedest thou thus? On this agreement state:That, if thou have good reason for thy spite,Knowing you both, and what his crime was, IUp in the world above may do thee right,Unless the tongue I talk with first grow dry.'From his foul feast that sinner raised his jaw,Wiping it on the hair, first, of the headWhose hinder part his craunching had made raw.Then thus: 'Thou wouldst that I renew,' he said,'The agony which still my heart doth wring,In thought even, ere a syllable I say;But if my words may future harvest bringTo the vile traitor here on whom I preyOf infamy, then thou shalt hear me speak,And see my tears too. I know not thy mien,Nor by what means this region thou dost seek;But by thy tongue thou'rt sure Florentine.Know then, Count Ugolino once was I,And this Archbishop Ruggieri: fateMakes us close neighbors—I will tell thee why.'Tis needless all the story to relate,How through his malice, trusting in his words,I was a prisoner made and after slain.But that whereof thou never canst have heard,I mean how cruelly my life was ta'en,Thou shalt hear now, and thenceforth know if heHave done me wrong. A loophole in the mewWhich hath its name of Famine's Tower from me,And where his doom some other yet must rue,Had shown me now already through its cleftMoon after moon, when that ill dream I dreamedWhich from futurity the curtain reft.He, in my vision, lord and master seemed,Hunting the wolf and wolf-cubs on the heightWhich screeneth Lucca from the Pisan's eye:With eager hounds, well trained and lean and light,Gualandi and Lanfranchi darted by,With keen Sismondi—these the foremost went;But after some brief chase, too hardly borne,The sire and offspring seemed entirely spent,And by sharp fangs their bleeding sides were torn.When before morn from sleep I raised my head,I heard my boys, in prison there with me,Moaning in slumber and demanding bread.If thou weep not, a savage thou must be:Nay, if thou weep not, thinking of the fearMy heart foreboded, canst thou weep at aught?Now they woke also, and the hour was nearWhen used our daily pittance to be brought.His dream made each mistrustful; and I heardThe door of that dread tower nailed up below:Then in my children's eyes, without a word,I gazed, but moved not; and I wept not: soLike stone was I within, that I could not.They wept, though, and my little Anselm cried,'Thou look'st so! Father, what's the matter, what?'But still I wept not, nor a word replied,All that long day, nor all the following night,Till earth beheld the sun's returning ray;And soon as one faint gleam of morning lightStole to the dismal dungeon where we lay,And soon as those four visages I sawImaging back the horror of my own,Both hands through anguish I began to gnaw;And they, believing want of food aloneCompelled me, started up, and cried, 'Far less,Dear father, it will torture us if thouShouldst feed on us! Thou gavest us this dressOf wretched flesh—'tis thine, and take it now.'So to relieve their little hearts, at lastI calmed myself, and, all in silence, thusThat and the next day motionless we past.Ah thou hard earth! why didst not ope for us?On the fourth morning, Gaddo at my feetCast himself prostrate, murmuring, 'Father! whyDost thou not help me? Give me food to eat."With that he died: and even so saw I,As thou seest me now, three more, one by one,Betwixt the fifth day and the sixth day fall;By which time, sightless grown, o'er each dear sonI groped, and two days on the dead did call:But, what grief could not do, hunger did then.This said, he rolled his eyes askance, and fellTo gnaw the skull with greedy teeth again,Strong as a dog upon the bony shell.Ah Pisa! shame of all in that fair landWheresiis uttered, since thy neighbors roundTake vengeance on thee with a tardy hand,Broke be Capraja's and Gorgona's bound!Let them dam Arno's mouth up, till the waveWhelm every soul of thine in its o'erflow!What though'twas saidCount Ugolino gave,Through treachery, thy strongholds to the foe?Thou needst not have tormented so his sons,Thou modern Thebes!—their youth saved them from blame—Brigata, Hugh, and those two innocent onesWhom, just above, the canto calls by name."

[Transcriber's note: Rendering 2; the dash at the end of each line is probably a typesetting artifact; all the poetic lines are run together.]

I saw twopersonsfrozen in one hole,—so that one head to the other was hat:—and as bread in hunger is eaten,—so the uppermost his teeth into the other stuck,—there where the brain is joined to the nape.—Not otherwise did Tydeus gnaw—the temples of Menalippus through disdain—than he did the skull and the other things.—O thou who showest by so bestial token—hatred over him whom thou eatest,—[Footnote 95]tell me the why, said I: on such condition,—that, if thou with reason of him complainest,—knowing who you are, and his offence,—in the world above I also may repay thee for it,—if that [tongue] with which I speak does notbecomedry.The mouth [he] raised from the beastly [Footnote 96] food,—that sinner, wiping it on the hair—of the head which he had disfigured (maimed) behind.—Then [he] began: Thou wishest that I renew—desperate grief, which me to the heart oppresses,—even only thinking, before I speak of it.—But if my words must (may) be a seed—that will bear fruit of infamy to the traitor I gnaw,—thou shalt see me both speak and weep.—I know not who thou be nor by what means—art thou come here below; but Florentine—thouseemest to me truly, when I hear thee.—Thou shouldst know that I was Count Ugolino,—and this Archbishop Ruggieri:—now I'll tell thee why I am such [Footnote 97] neighbor.—How by the means of his evil mind,—trusting in him, I was taken—and then killed, there is no need of telling.—But that whichthoucanst not have heard, (known), [Footnote 98]that is, how cruel my death was,—thou shalt hear; and [thou] shalt know whether he hath done me wrong.—A narrow hole within the mew— [Footnote 99]which from me has the title of Hunger,—and in which it needs that others be confined,—had shown me through its opening—many moons already, when I had the fatal dream—which tore from me the veil of the future.—This [man] seemed to me leader and lord,—driving the wolf and wolf-cubs [Footnote 100] to the mountain,for which the Pisans cannot see Lucca.—[Footnote 101]With hounds, [she-hounds,] lean, keen on the scent,and well trained, (cagne magre studiose e conte,)—Gualandi with Sismondi, and with Lanfranchi—had [he] put before him in the van.—After a short run they seemed to me borne down,—the father and the sons, and by those sharp teeth—I deemed their sides torn open.—When I became awake ere the morning—I heard weeping in their sleep my children,—who were with me, and ask for bread.—Indeed thou art cruel if thou dost not already grieve,—thinking of what to my heart was then foreboded:—and if thou weepest not, at what art thou wont to weep?—They were now awake, and the hour was drawing near—when food used to be brought in,—and his dream gave each misgivings.—AndthenI heard the door bolted [Footnote 102] below—in the horrible tower: whereat I looked—into the face of my children without saying a word.—I was not weeping, so was I petrified (impietrai) within:—they were weeping; and my little Anselm—said: Thou lookest so! Father, what aileth thee?—Yet I shed no tear, nor answered I—all that day, nor the following night,—until another sun arose over the world.—As soon as a little gleam of light (un poco di raggio) began to creep—into the doleful prison, and I saw in four faces my own very image,both my hands through pain I bit;—and they, thinking that I did it for wish of food, instantly arose,—and said: Father, far less painful will it be to us—if thou eatest of us; thou didst dress—[us with] this miserable flesh, do thou take it off.—I then calmed myself, not to make them more wretched.—That day and the next we all lay silent:—alas! cruel earth, why didn'tst thou open?—After we had reached the fourth day—Gaddo threw himself prostrate at my feet,—saying: Father mine, why dost thou not help me?—There he died; and, as thou seest me,—did I see the three fall one by one,—betwixt the fifth day and the sixth, whereat I began,—already blind, to grope over each:—and three days I called them after they were dead.—Then more than the grief did the fasting overwhelm me.—When he had said this, with eyes distorted—he resumed the loathsome skull between his teeth,—which, like a dog's, stuck to the bone.—Ah Pisa! disgrace to the people—of the fair land where thesisounds;—[Footnote 103]as thy neighbors are slow to punish thee,—let Capraja and Gorgona [Footnote 104] arise,—and build a dam on Arno's mouth—that may drown every mother's child in thee.—For if Count Ugolino had the name—of having defrauded thee of thy castles,—thou shouldst not have put the children to such torture.—Innocent were by their youthful age,—Modern Thebes! Uguccione and Brigata,—and the other two whom my song has mentioned."

[Footnote 95:Ti mangi, "thou selfishly holdest for thy dainty food." This is one of those idioms expressed by the reciprocal pronoun "ti," almost impossible to translate. Its meaning is felt only by the native Italian.]

[Footnote 96:Fiero, here as the carcass on which a beast of prey will feed, fromfiera, savage beast.]

[Footnote 97:Tal vicino, a neighbor so barbarously distressing another.]

[Footnote 98:Inteso Udire, hear by chance;ascoltare, to listen,intendere, to understand what you hear, or are told.]

[Footnote 99:Muda, the place where the republic's eagles were kept during moulting-time.Mudare, to moult.]

[Footnote 100: Ugolino had the dream while suffering the acute pangs of hunger. He dreamt of a famished wolf and its whelps, hunted by she-hounds, under which allegory he recognizes the Ghibellines, himself being a Guelf.]

[Footnote 101:San Giuliano, a mountain between Pisa and Lucca.]

[Footnote 102: The Pisans, about eight months after Ugolino's imprisonment, bolted the dungeon's massive doors, locked them, and threw the keys into the Arno.]

[Footnote 103: Dante calls the language of Southern France the language ofoc, and the Italian the language ofsi; bothocandsimeaning "yes."]

[Footnote 104: Two small islands at the mouth of the Arno.]

We had marked one or two more pieces for transcription, but we deem it useless; for a diligent collation of Mr. Parsons's text with the literal translation we have givenad calcemwill at once convince the reader of the faithfulness of the work. Of course, it would be absurd to expect that words were rendered for words. It is simply impossible. Again: there are words which cannot be rendered. We know the Italian language pretty well—and why shouldn't we?—yet we have never been able to find the Italian word corresponding with the English "home"; nor have twenty-three years of close and earnest study of the English language yet enabled us to find an English word corresponding with the Italianvagheggiare. We say, "He was lost in the contemplation of a picture:" the Italian will simply say, "Vagheggiava la pittura." Translate, if you can, "L'amante vagheggia la sua bella!" You can do it no more than the Italian can render with corresponding meaning the words, "Home! sweet home!"

In our opinion a too literal translation will not give us Dante; it will only give his words. Although we must admit that the meaning of the word, as it conveys the idea, must be scrupulously rendered as well as the idiom, yet it is evident that too great an anxiety in translating the word into that which bears the greatest resemblance to the original may lead into a misconception or misrepresentation of the author's idea. In an elaborate article in theAtlantic Monthly, of August, 1867, the wordheight, employed by Mr. Longfellow in his translation of Dante, (Purgat, xxviii. v. 106,) receives the preference oversummit, employed by Cary. True,heightis the literal rendition foraltezza; yet Dante there employsaltezzanot in its literal meaning, which is one of measurement, but in that of asummit, or atop. A comparison with parallel cases in theCommediawill bear us out in our remark. We must not be understood as if we meant to prefer Cary to Longfellow. By no means: for the former gives us Cary's Dante, whereas the latter gives us, if we may be allowed the expression,Dante's Dante.Which remark, however, must not be taken as if we were disposed to endorse the fidelity of every line of the American translator.The very narrow limits to which he has confined himself often place him under the necessity of employing words which convey not the original's idea; while, on the other hand, often must he add words in order to fill up his line; for example,

"When he had said this, withhiseyes distorted."

ThathisDante never put there; why, it is a pleonasm.

While we do not like nor did ever like the freedom of Cary, nay, have felt indignant at the liberties he has taken with the text, we are amazed at the boldness with which Mr. Longfellow has endeavored to master his Procrustean difficulties; but we give preference to the work of Dr. Parsons, because his translation is easy (disinvolta, the Italians would call it) and yet faithful; it is poetical, and yet we challenge our readers to point to any idea which is not conveyed to the English mind in scrupulous fidelity to Dante's ideas. He sits in Alighieri's chair, and he is at home.

Were we requested by him who knew Italian only moderately as to the easiest method to understand and enjoy Dante, we would say: Read the text, collating it verse for verse with Longfellow; then read Parsons. Yet, to be candid, we hope no American scholar will form his idea of Dante's transcendental merit on the translation of Mr. Longfellow, who, it must be admitted, has done more meritorious work in behalf of Dante than the one hundred thousand and one who have written comments on him. But one feels a painful sensation in alighting from Dante's text on Longfellow's translation, whereas the transition from the perusal of the original to Parsons's causes no jerking in our soul, and the pleasure,decies repetita, never abates. To the Italian scholar Mr. Longfellow's translation will never prove satisfactory.

Lest our readers should think that we areblindadmirers of Dr. Parsons, we will conclude this part of our paper with the remark that we wish different words were in a few occasions employed by him. Thus, for instance, the word, "in blackest letters," (Inf. c. iii, v. 10,) do not convey the full meaning of Dante's "parole di colore oscuro." Of course the doctor can easily defend his rendition (and we know he long pondered on the suitableness of the word) with the obvious remark that ascoundrelmay beblackwithout being an Abyssinian, hence his "blackest letters" must be taken in a moral sense; yet it requires an after-thought to understand it, whereas the word "oscuro" at once hints at something black in itself and dreadful in its forebodings. But what English word will convey the idea?

Our article, incomplete as it is, would yet appear more deficient were we not to give our readers a general idea of what theDivina Commediais, what it proposes to convey to the reader's mind. Were we to form an idea of the nature of this poem from what has been written about it, we should call ita saddle. For there is no system, theological, philosophical, or political, the supporters whereof have not taken their proofs from Dante. According to some, Dante was a Catholic devotee; while others, especially in these our days, will represent him as the most determined and conscientious foe of everything Catholic,et sic de ceteris.

In the language of an accurate modern Italian scholar, "Dante lifted the Italian language from its cradle, and laid it on a throne: in spite of the rudeness of the times not yet freed from barbarism, he dared to conceive a poem, in which he embodied whatever there was most abstruse in philosophical and theological doctrines; in his three canticles he massed whatever was known in the scientific world; after the example of Homer and Virgil, he knew how to select a national subject which would interest all Italy, nay, all whose hearts were warmed by the warmth of Catholic faith; in a word, he became the mark either of decay or of prosperity in the Italian literature, which was always enhanced according as his divine poem was studied and appreciated, or laid aside and neglected." [Footnote 105]

[Footnote 105: Cav. G. Maffei,Storia Lit. Ital.I. iii.]

Dante was born in Florence, in March, 1265, and died in Ravenna an exile in 1321, September 14. His father's name was Alighiero degli Alighieri. His education was as perfect as the times could afford in science, belles-lettres, and arts. When only nine years old he became acquainted with Beatrice di Folco Portinari, a young damsel of eight summers, but endowed with great gifts of soul and body, and her praises he sang in prose and verse, and to her he allotted a distinguished place in paradise. Dante served his country faithfully both in the councils of peace and under the panoply of war. When only thirty-five years old, he attained the highest dignity in the gift of his countrymen. On the occupation of Florence by Charles of Valois, whose pretensions he had opposed and so far thwarted, Dante was banished from Florence, (Jan. 27, 1302.) At the time, he was in Rome endeavoring to interest Pope Boniface VIII. in behalf of his dear Florence. Dante never saw his native place again, but after nineteen years of exile and poverty he died highly honored and very tenderly cared for by the Polentas, the masters of Ravenna.

Dante was the author of many excellent works; but to theDivina Commediahe owes that fame by which he stands of all the Italiansfacile princeps. At first, it was his intention to write his poem in Latin verse; but seeing that that language was not understood by all, and many even among the educated laity could not read it, and just then the great transformation of the new language taking place he wisely conceived the plan of gathering all the words which were then used from the Alps to the sea, and exhibited a uniformity of sound and formation, and thus to write a poem that might be called national, and at the same time be a bond that would unite all the Italian hearts. This may be looked upon as the political or patriotic aim of his work. A moral end had he then in view: thus, laying down as the principle of common destiny that man was created for the double end of enjoying an imperishable happiness hereafter, to be attained by securing a happiness in this world, which should arise from attending to the pursuits of virtue, inParadisehe described the former, which cannot be attained without a soul entirely detached from the affections of this earth, a process of schooling one's self and purification so well represented by what he imagines to have witnessed inPurgatory. But as the soul needs be animated to do works of justice by the promise of reward, as well as by the intimidation of deadly punishment, so he depicts the horrors to which the lost people, those who were dead to even the aspiration of a virtuous nature, will be doomed inHell.

Naturally, this triple state of the soul, lost, redeeming herself, glorified, gave him a chance of embodying into his work theological expositions of the duties of man, of the working of grace, and of the economy of religion; revelation, natural religion, and science, all in turn lend him a helping hand.And because examples should be adduced to practically prove the truth of his assertions, he freely quotes from the past and from the present; and while he is perfectly alive to the importance of placing in high relief the beautiful deeds of those who gained glory in paradise because of their being faithful to the behests of faith and religion in whatever concerns our relations to God, ourselves, and our neighbors, at the same time, his heart burning with love for his country, he will admit of no mitigation in the Conduct Of such as he considers unfaithful to it or in the least hostile to that Florence he loved so well.

And here we pause. We have not done justice to the subject: we have not said all we could wish about Dante and Mr. Parsons. Yet we hope the few remarks we have made will enkindle in the breast of some of our readers a desire of becoming better acquainted with the father of Italian literature, the idol of the Italian student, theFiero Ghibellino:

"Onorate l'altissimo Poeta."

O dread Jehovah! who before the worldHad being dwelt eternal and alone,Ere yet our planet on its path was hurledThrough space, ere angel or archangel shone,Ere waves had learned to roll or winds to sweep,And darkness brooded on the mighty deep!Thy glance searched through infinity around,And there was none save thee; thy spirit warmMoved over chaos, and its vast profoundHeaved up a thousand worlds, dark, without form."Let there be light!" And, kindled at thy ray,Burst radiant morning teeming with the day.And what am I to thee? A raindrop placedIn an o'erteeming cloud?A snowflake drifting o'er the northern wasteWhen winds are loud?An atom or a nothing where sublimeWorlds, planets piled, thy praise unceasing chime?Not so; for in thy living image made,Conscious of will, of immortality,In thy tremendous attributes arrayed,Like thee, a Lord, yielding alone to thee—What awful dignity! what power divine!A semblance of infinitude is mine.Yet did thy breath no lessCreate me; sprung from thy eternal fires,I glow; without thee, I am nothingness;Thy wisdom guides me and thy love inspires."Give me thy heart"—O strange benignity!What is a mortal's heart, O God! to thee?My bursting heart expandsTo meet thee, and thy presence weighs me down:He who contains the heavens within his hands,Annihilating systems with his frown,Comes clad in garments of mortalityTo dwell on this dim, shadowy earth with me.For what shall I exchange thee? For the shineOf worldly pomp and pageantry and power?This spark, within eternal and divine,Spurns the false baubles of a fleeting hour.Thou art all glory, power, infinity—Thouart; what can I want, possessing thee?Thou shalt unchanged beholdThe starry host, quenched like a firebrand, die;The firmament is as a vesture rolledAround thee—as a vesture 'tis cast by.A thousand years are nothing in thy sight—Or as a watch that passes in the night.And when this earth shall flyTo atoms; when the mountains shall be tossedAs chaff; when like a scroll rolls back the sky,And Nature and her laws for ever lost;When thou shalt speak in fire the dread commandAnd hurl it from the hollow of thy hand—What hope for me? Thy promises sublimeThat o'er the wreck of worlds I shall survey,With eye unmoved, beyond the touch of Time,The stars grow dark, the melting heavens decay,And sit arrayed in immortalityIn peace eternal and supreme with thee.C. E. B.

All our readers must have read with interest the account given of the last Catholic Congress at Malines. The importance and utility of such assemblies are generally understood. Shall we have a Catholic Congress? The feasibility of introducing it into the United States can scarcely be doubted. The people here are more accustomed to self-government than in Europe. We are thoroughly acquainted with the management and rules of popular, deliberative assemblies. We have learned members of the clergy, and educated laymen, who appreciate the value of a congress, and are competent to render its workings practical and make its deliberations effective. The episcopacy is ever ready to aid undertakings for the benefit of religion. There can, therefore, be no doubt of obtaining the necessary sanction from the ecclesiastical hierarchy for the assembling of the congress.

Who, then, will begin it? And when will it be held? Many earnest Catholics of the country, who have seen the great benefits derived to Belgium and France from the congresses at Malines; and to Germany from those at Munich and elsewhere; who have witnessed the powerful influence for propagating doctrines and concentrating forces of the sectarian or philanthropical assemblies which annually meet in New York or elsewhere, are asking these questions. Our forces are scattered; a congress would unite them. There is no centre, no unanimity, no harmony of action among us in reference to many important matters which might be treated of in a congress.

Let us briefly enumerate some of the objects which could be discussed and studied in an assembly of our learned clergy and educated laity.

FREE SUNDAY AND DAY SCHOOLS, their regulation and amelioration, might be one of the objects. In large cities like New York, Baltimore, Boston, and Philadelphia, where Catholics are, many of them, wealthy and instructed, the teachers of parochial or Sunday schools are often highly capable of conducting their establishments. The large cities afford so many opportunities of study and improvement that every one can learn. But in the poor country districts, how is it? The teachers are isolated. They need more system. There is no central point to which they may look for light. The rural clergy in remote districts are often suffering from want of some large and powerful organization which could assist them in their labors, either for the improvement of their schools, their choirs, etc., or for the counteracting of Protestant propagandism.

The influence which has been exercised on education in Belgium by the Catholic congresses is well known. The labors of the German Catholic congresses is not so public. The Nineteenth General Assembly of the Catholic associations of Germany took place at Bamberg, in Bavaria, during the interval between the 31st of August and the 3d of September, A.D. 1868. These German congresses, like those of Belgium, are composed of laymen as well as ecclesiastics. They exclude all political questions from their sessions.Their only aim is to sustain and support the Catholic cause. In the three first meetings, one at Mayence, in 1848, under the presidency of the Chevalier Buss; the other at Breslau, presided over by M. Lieber, while the city was in a state of siege, in 1849; and in the third, held at Ratisbon in 1850, the members organized a unity of action among the societies of St. Vincent de Paul, established schools and reading-rooms in the interest of Catholic literature, and watched over the religious wants of the Germans in Paris and throughout the rest of France. The Congress of Ratisbon, presided over by Count Joseph de Stolberg, founded the Society of St. Boniface, which has since then realized the sum of $700,000, and by this means established one hundred and ten missions and one hundred and fifty schools for the poor German Catholics living in Protestant countries.

Münster, in Westphalia, had a Congress in 1852. The president was the Baron of Andlau. In it was discussed the method which the Catholic associations could take to promote Christian education and to found a Catholic university. These deliberations were continued the following year at the Vienna Congress, where Dr. Zell presided. In 1856, at another Congress, in which Count O'Donnel was president, the foundation of children's asylums was discussed. Salzburg was proposed as the seat of the Catholic university. The Salzburg Congress, in 1857, was specially occupied with this project, and with the means of developing the power of the Catholic press, founding Catholic publication societies, and giving pecuniary aid to the Catholics of the East. At Freyburg, in 1859, the Congress, presided over by the Count de Brandis, treated of the Catholic press and religious music. The Thirteenth Congress at Munich, in 1861, founded the literary review known as theLitterarischer Handweiser, edited by Hulskam and Rump, at Münster.

The Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle, in the following year, took up again the question of the establishment of a Catholic university. A committee was appointed to found it; but the government opposed them. This rather excited than diminished the zeal of the persevering German Catholics. Professor Moeller, of Louvain, on this occasion said: "The word impossible is not Christian." There was not one of those congresses that did not oppose the secularization of education; not one of them that did not materially and morally aid the cause of Christian doctrine.

In these German congresses we have a good model to imitate. Isolated attempts to obtain public support for our own schools will rarely if ever succeed. There must be union; a union of the Catholic brain, intelligence, and wealth, not only in one state, but all over the country.

Our CATHOLIC REFORMATORIES is another object worthy the attention of a Catholic congress. No one can exaggerate the importance of these institutions. That of New York, supported and maintained by our good and zealous archbishop, has produced incalculable benefits in our city already. A Catholic congress would strengthen the hands of our zealous prelate; would increase the efficiency of the institution; would encourage the Catholics of other cities, where they are not already established, to found similar establishments for the orphaned or homeless children who swarm in our country. How many of the poor sons and daughters of our Catholic emigrants are lost for ever to faith and virtue in our cities!Will not their blood cry out on the last day against their fellow-Christians, who have the wealth and the intelligence, but not the zeal, to save them from a life of crime and ignominy?

The ST. VINCENT DE PAUL SOCIETIES could also profit by union of action among the different conferences throughout the country. In the South, especially, the war has multiplied widows and orphans. The poor there have not the same advantages as in the North. Some of the dioceses were poor before the war. They are now all very poor. The bishops and priests are trying to build up what the sword or the cannon destroyed. It is true there are regular assemblies of the different conferences; but they need a stronger impulse from without to make them flourish as they should and as they are needed.

Then there is the question of RELIGIOUS MUSIC, [Footnote 106] which none of the European congresses ever omit in their deliberations.

[Footnote 106: Professor Jacovacci, of the Propaganda College, in a recent circular to the bishops, urges this point on the next General Council.]

We are not disposed to find fault; but every one knows that the music of our churches is frequently anything but rubrical or ecclesiastical. We are in favor of the best music; the very best, whether it be figured or plain chant; but let it be at least CHURCH music, not rehashed operas. We know that many of the pastors are unable to procure singers who are competent to render Catholic music as it should be in our churches. We need a Catholic training-school of music. A Catholic conservatory might easily be formed in New York. It is no exaggeration to say that the best of the foreign musicians in the United States are Catholics, whether they be remarkable for their skill with instruments or for the culture of their voices. There is besides much native talent, which only needs the opportunity to become distinguished. Let there be founded a national Catholic conservatory of music, with prizes and exhibitions; let the members of it see that their efforts will be even pecuniarily and profitably remunerated, and we venture to predict that in a short time America will stand as high as her European sisters in religious music. Toward the close of the last Malines Congress, a multitude of Belgian Catholic amateurs gave an oratorio on theLast Judgment, which was magnificent. A Catholic conservatory of music in New York could give similar entertainments, as an appropriate termination to our Catholic congresses, and be able thereby to pay all its expenses, and have even much left with which to remunerate its members.

LIBRARIES, READING-ROOMS, and the PRESS could also be discussed. Nothing will do more good in a community than a supply of good reading matter. We have already discussed the method of founding family and Sunday-school libraries in the pages of this magazine. A Catholic congress would encourage those who wished to found them; would bring out the energies of many of the laity and clergy who only seek a good opportunity to display them. In this respect we might learn a lesson from many of the Protestant sects. Whatever we may think of the real zeal of Protestants, however much we may condemn their external show of piety, their confounding Christian charity with philanthropism, we must admire the energy which they manifest in the cause of education. No church of theirs but has its Bible class, its well-organized Sunday-school, its Sunday-school library, its young men's association, reading-room, and newspaper.No doubt these are but the accidentals of Christianity; but they help very much in propagating or sustaining the essentials.

It is certain that our CATHOLIC PRESS does not receive all the support which it deserves. We have Catholic newspapers, which could be rendered much more useful and efficient were they better patronized; and as for our magazine, our readers must judge whether we do not endeavor our utmost to satisfy their intellectual wants. In Europe, every petty, poor Catholic community is willing to support a journal. We often find many reviews flourishing in countries far less wealthy and populous than our own. Ought not the five millions of Catholics of the United States to give THE CATHOLIC WORLD a subscription list of at least fifty thousand? And if they do not, what is the reason? Is it because they are poor? No, but because there is no central point from which the current of electricity can be sent leaping through the brain and heart of our population. Let us have a congress for these purposes also.

Then there is the project of a CATHOLIC UNIVERSITY. Every day we read of wealthy gentlemen leaving donations of thousands of dollars to educational establishments belonging to the state or to religious denominations other than Catholic. In Europe this is also a common custom. We have read of Mr. Peabody's donation to Yale College. Girard, an infidel, founded the institution in Philadelphia which bears his name. Our Catholic millionaires of New York and other cities, we are sure, only need to be asked to show their generosity in the founding of a Catholic university. Several of the petty German states have theirs. Even impoverished Ireland has had the courage to originate one. Will not rich America follow her example? What is wanting? Not the money; not the patronage; not the ability to conduct it; but simply that there is no united, powerful body of Catholics to undertake it. Give us a congress, and we can have this union; a congress of the brain, good sense, and faith of the American church.

Are we to have a school of CATHOLIC ARTISTS in this country? Shall we do anything to promote the Catholic arts of painting, sculpture, and architecture? What style of church ornament shall we keep? Shall we cultivate the taste of our clergy in these matters? After what fashion shall our churches be built? Will we make no effort to unite the Catholic architects and artists of the country to consult, compare their experiences, and improve their taste and talent by mutual contact? They individually desire to be brought together. There is no true artist who does not wish for an opportunity to be appreciated; and where can so just an appreciation of an artist's work be had as in a Catholic congress of American Catholic talent which would influence even the remotest parts of our vast country?

Our priests all feel the want more or less of a central point to which they can look with safety forproper vestments, altar furniture, andaltar wine, It may be suspected without rashness that many of the merchants who sell wines for the altar are not always reliable. In many cases the wine is adulterated. In such a state of uncertainty, would it not be well to have a "Bureau of Safety" established? Would it not be well to have some authorized and reliable agents who could transport to this country, cheaply and safely, some of the treasures of Europe—vestments, chalices, pictures, and the like—instead of obliging every priest to depend on his own individual knowledge, or leave him at the mercy of some purely mercantile monopoly?If there were a Catholic congress, all this state of disorder could be remedied, if not in one year, at least in two or three. There are zealous Catholics enough in the country to devote a portion of their time to the general interests of religion.

The condition of CATHOLIC PRISONERS in jails or penitentiaries could form not the least important object of a Catholic assembly. There are many unfortunate members of our church in the prisons on the neighboring islands of New York who are in the best dispositions to profit by spiritual consolation, yet they have no books, save the few which the devoted chaplain may give them when charity affords him the necessary funds. The prisoners in more remote districts are worse off. Does it not stir up the fire of zeal in the heart of a Catholic to know that he can save a soul, reclaim the vicious, and give consolation to a poor wretch who may have unfortunately forgotten the sanctity prescribed by his religion? Would not a supply of good books be a godsend to Catholic prisoners? Would it not tend to reform them, to beguile their weary hours, and sanctify them? Now, a Catholic congress could establish a permanent committee, to see that the prisons of the country were supplied with Catholic literature. If we want to convert the United States, we must be in earnest about our work. We must take every method that our means will enable us to use and our piety suggest. Let Catholic doctrines percolate through the veins of society not only by preaching in our churches, but by spreading Catholic tracts, Catholic newspapers, Catholic books in the city, in the country, in the work-house, even in the jail and penitentiary. Let our religion be like its Founder, "going about everywhere doing good:" "pertransiit benefaciendo."

Although centralization, in a political point of view, when carried to excess, is injurious to liberty, too much individualism is equally pernicious, for it entails too much responsibility. A Catholic congress would not destroy individual zeal, but only concentrate it. A Catholic congress could coerce no man's will. It would only be an index to show men what they could do; to ask them to be unanimous and to pull together.

The details of the congress could be arranged at its meeting. The constitution and by-laws of the Malines congresses, or of those which succeeded so admirably in Germany, could be adopted with slight modifications. The approbation of the Holy Father would be given to it as to those in Europe. Our venerable archbishops and bishops would sanction it. The prelate in whose diocese it would assemble might preside at its deliberations or appoint a substitute. Committees would be appointed, some permanent, others transitory.

In the interest of the laity, then, we ask for a Catholic congress. We ask for it in the interest of the clergy also, who are anxious to keep up their own tone of respectability, and at the same time influence by unanimity the great work of the conversion of the whole United States to Catholicity.

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