This infallible and perpetual magistracy of the church is exercised in its ordinary way by the official teaching of the Catholic episcopate, whose supreme head is the Pope, and of the priests commissioned by them to teach. It began before the New Testament was written, and continued for nearly three hundred years before any œcumenical council was held. It is a great mistake to fancy that either the Scripture, or the decrees of councils, created the faith. It existed before them, and was apprehended with a vividness and distinctness perhaps surpassing anything which has been witnessed in later periods.
The solemn and special exercise of this magistracy is through the judgments and definitions of the Holy See, either with or without the concurrence of œcumenical councils. These solemn acts have had for their first object to express in definite terms what was always taught and believed as of the Catholic faith, and to condemn all opposite errors. Their second object has been to declare and define revealed truths contained in Scripture and tradition, but not proposed by the church as of Catholic faith before their solemn definition. Their third object has been to define truths not revealed, but so connectedwith or related to revealed truths, that they are necessary to the protection of the faith and law of the church. Many of the judgments belonging to the last two classes, also, are negative in their form, that is, condemnations of heretical, erroneous, or otherwise censurable tenets and opinions. The necessity for making these definitions has been so constant and frequent during the history of the church, that the principal doctrines of the faith, and a vast body of doctrine pertaining to or connected with it, are distinctly and explicitly taught in the collection of the acts of the Holy See and the œcumenical councils. It would be, however, a most grievous error to suppose that everything contained in Scripture and tradition, much less the whole body of truth which is capable of infallible definition, has been exhausted, or could be expressed in a certain definite number of propositions, to which no addition could ever be made. The fountain is inexhaustible. And, no matter how long time may last, the church can still proceed to make new and more explicit elucidations and definitions of that complete and Catholic body of truth which she has held and taught either explicitly or implicitly from the beginning. The notion that the church is a merely mechanical medium, for transmitting a definite and precise number of propositions of faith, is wholly false. It is the notion of a certain number of Anglicans, but wholly foreign to the true and Catholic idea. It is not only heterodox, but rationally untenable and ridiculous. Equally so is the common Protestant notion of a division among revealed truths into two classes, the fundamental and non-fundamental, in the sense in which those terms are used by Protestant theologians. Undoubtedly, there are mysteries and doctrines which are fundamental in the sense that they are at the basis of Christianity, and more necessary to be universally known and explicitly believed than any others. And, consequently, there are other truths which belong to the superstructure, to the minor and less principal parts of the system, or to its finish and ornamentation. But, in the sense to which we have reference, they are all equal. That is, there is the same obligation of believing any one revealed truth as any other, because the authority of God is equally sovereign and majestic in each single instance. We are bound to believe, implicitly, everything contained in the written and unwritten word of God. Whatever the church proposes as a revealed truth we are bound to believe explicitly as a part of the Catholic faith, as soon as we know it. Whatever else we know certainly to be contained in the word of God, we are bound to believe by divine faith. In regard to all that portion of revealed truth which is not thus clearly made known to us, we are bound to submit our minds unreservedly to the decisions and judgments which the church may hereafter make, and in the meantime to adhere to that which seems to be the truth. A Catholic must not only believe what the church now proposes to his belief, but be ready to believe whatever she may hereafter propose. And he must, therefore, be ready to give up any or all of his probable opinions so soon as they are condemned and proscribed by a competent authority. Moreover, he must believe what the church teaches, not simply or chiefly because he has convinced himself by his own investigations that her doctrines are really contained in the word of God, but because the infallible authority of the church proposesthem as revealed doctrines. The latest decisions of the church have, therefore, the same authority as the earliest. The Council of the Vatican is equally sacred with the Council of Trent, and the Council of Trent with the First Council of Nicæa.
It is not necessary to prove to any tolerably instructed Catholic that this is the only doctrine which has been recognized as orthodox, or taught with the sanction of the hierarchy, within the Catholic communion. It is found in all our catechisms and books of instruction, and preached by all pastors. It is an amazing fact that some ostensible converts to the church in England, who have lately renounced their sworn allegiance to her authority, have declared that they never understood this doctrine. This only shows the depth of the ignorance of Catholic doctrine which prevails among many of the most intelligent and educated Protestants, especially those of the Anglican sect. Priests educated in the faith from their childhood, cannot easily apprehend such ignorance in persons who apparently hold Catholic doctrines and are attracted by Catholic ceremonies. They may, therefore, in some cases presuppose in their catechumens an understanding of the fundamental Catholic principle which they have not, and pass them in with a superficial instruction which leaves them as much Protestants as they were before. It is to be hoped that greater precaution will be used hereafter in this important matter. It is also true that a number of nominal Catholics, and, sad to say, some priests, a few of whom had stood in high repute, have recently manifested to the world how utterly they had in their secret hearts thrown off the allegiance due to the authority of the church. But these examples prove nothing. It is as clear as the sun that the doctrine we have laid down is the doctrine of the Catholic Church. It is the doctrine of Bossuet as well as that of Bellarmine, of Waterworth as well as of Wiseman. No other doctrine has ever been tolerated in the church, and if any have held or taught any other, at any time, who have not been personally condemned and excommunicated, they were still only pretended but not real members of the Catholic communion. A most signal manifestation of the universal faith of the church in this doctrine was made in the year 1854. The doctrine of the Immaculate Conception, which St. Thomas and many other Dominican writers had opposed without censure, and which the Holy See had strictly forbidden all theologians to call a dogma of Catholic faith before the definition, was then proclaimed as a dogma of faith by Pius IX. with the applause of the whole body of bishops, clergy, and faithful. Another one has been made within the last year by a number of bishops, priests, and other Catholics, who have given up their opinions respecting the infallibility of the Pope, and have received that doctrine as a doctrine of faith, simply upon the authority of the Council of the Vatican.
This remark brings us to a part, and a very important part, of our subject, which we promised at the beginning of this article to treat of at its close, and thus give a complete view of the doctrine of infallibility.
The definition of the Council of the Vatican, by virtue of the foregoing principles, furnishes every one of the faithful with an infallible motive for believing the infallibility of the Pope as a dogma of faith, and imposes the obligation of faith on his conscience. The teaching of the universal episcopate, in accordancewith that definition, furnishes another equally infallible motive. And so does the universal belief of the faithful, who receive and submit to that infallible definition of the council. There is, moreover, such an abundance of proof from the Scripture, and the most conspicuous monuments of tradition, of the doctrine in question, that any person of ordinary education is capable of understanding enough of the evidence in the case to make a reasonable judgment, and might have done so, even before the case was decided. The fact that a small number of theologians held a different opinion was really of no weight at any time, considering the vastly preponderating weight of the judgment of all the saints, the great majority of theologians, and almost the entire body of the bishops. Whatever seeming probability the opinion of this small minority might have had in the minds of some having been totally destroyed by the judgment of the council, the reasons from Scripture and tradition gain now their full force and are seen in their true light. But the purpose we have had in view, and which we stated at the outset, is not the exhibition of these specific proofs, but the exposition of the relation of the new definition to the supremacy itself and the general doctrine of infallibility; as well as an answer to the question, how the infallibility of the Pope could have remained so long without an express definition.
In the first place, as to the supremacy. The Pope is, by divine right, supreme ruler, supreme teacher, and supreme judge over the universal church, and over all its priests and members, individually and collectively. As supreme ruler, he must be infallible; not indeed in all his particular acts, but in his principles and rules of government. Otherwise, he might subvert the constitution of the church, destroy morality, oppress and depose the orthodox prelates, promote heretics to the highest places, and do in the Catholic Church what the schismatical Eastern patriarchs have done, and what Cranmer did in England. By the very supposition, there would be no authority in the church to control him, and all the prelates and faithful would be bound to obey him. For, if there is any authority in the church superior to the Papal authority, the supremacy is in that authority, and not in the Pope. As supreme teacher, he can instruct all Christian bishops, as well as laity, in regard to the doctrine which they must believe, and bind their consciences to submit to his teaching. It follows from our entire foregoing argument that infallibility is necessary to the possession and exercise of such a power. As supreme judge in questions of faith and morals, his decision must be final and irreversible; for there is no judge above him except our Lord Jesus Christ himself. But the final judgments which the whole Catholic Church is bound to accept must be infallible. Sovereignty, or the possession of the plenitude of power, when it extends over the realm of mind and conscience, exacts infallibility. And this has been most lucidly and conclusively proved, during the recent controversies, by Archbishop Dechamps, Dom Guéranger, and various other able writers.
The infallibility of the Pope is implicitly contained in and logically concluded from the infallibility of the church in general, and of the teaching hierarchy in particular, in substantially the same way as it is in the supremacy. The church is essentially constituted by its fundamental principle, which is that of organic unity under one visible head, thesuccessor of St. Peter. The vital force of this organic unity is faith, and, as the body is infallible in faith, and also governed by the head, the head must be infallible in a higher and more immediate sense; otherwise, the body of the church would be liable either to become corrupt in faith by remaining united to a corrupted head, or to cease to be a body by separating from its head. If we take the church as represented by another similitude, it is founded, as a building, on the Rock of Peter; that is, the Roman Church and the succession of Roman pontiffs. The foundation must be stable and immovable in faith, if the structure resting upon it has this immovable stability. So, also, the episcopal hierarchy, whether dispersed or congregated in a general council, must remain in communion of faith and doctrine with the Roman Church and Pontiff. The Pope must sanction their decrees, otherwise they are null and void. Those bishops who separate from the faith of the Roman Pontiff, no matter how numerous they may be, fall out of the communion of the church and forfeit their authority to teach. Evidently, therefore, if the teaching hierarchy is infallible, the rule and authority which directs and governs it must be infallible. If a pilot is placed on the flag-ship of a fleet which has to pass through a dangerous strait, and orders are given to every ship to follow in his wake, it is evident that the success of the passage depends on the unerring skill of the pilot. A fallible head to an infallible hierarchy, a fallible guide to an infallible church, a fallible supreme teacher, a fallible Vicar of Christ! What a contradiction in terms! Who can believe that our Lord Jesus Christ ever constituted his church upon such inconsistent principles? The supremacy of the Pope and the infallibility of the church plainly cannot coexist with each other in fact, or be united into a coherent whole in logic, without the infallibility of the Pope as the term of union. Yet these two doctrines have always been the constitutive principles of the Catholic Church.
It is, however, still requisite to answer the question, how any doctrine different from that defined by the Council of the Vatican could have existed and been tolerated so long among Catholics, and how the church could have postponed her definition to this late period. When we say it is requisite, we mean, merely, requisite in order to complete the explanation we promised to make. We have no right to ask reasons of the church, any more than of Almighty God, as a preliminary to our submission. We are to take with unquestioning docility whatever instruction the church gives us. Yet, we are permitted to make investigation of the truths of our religion, in order to understand them better, to confirm our belief, and to be ready to answer objections. Therefore, we reply to the question stated above, first, in general terms, that the infallibility of the Roman Pontiff has always been held, taught, and acted on by the supreme authority itself, and practically acknowledged by all good Catholics; and that its explicit definition was delayed until the necessity and expediency of such a definition was made clearly manifest, and the fitting occasion furnished by the providence of God.
The argument will be made more clear if we substitute the termirreformablein the place ofinfallible. All irreformable decrees are confessedly infallible, and the question of law and fact is therefore precisely this: whether the Roman Pontiffshave ever suffered their dogmatic decrees to be judicially revised by the bishops, or to remain suspended as to their complete obligatory force, until the express or tacit assent of the bishops had been manifested; and whether the church has ever recognized any such right in the bishops. So far as the Popes are concerned, it is enough to refer to the unquestionable fact that they have expressly prohibited appeals from the judgment of the Holy See to an œcumenical council, from the time of Celestine I. in the fifth century. Martin V. and Pius II. in the fifteenth century, Julius II. and Paul V. in the sixteenth century, renewed this prohibition. Clement XI., in the eighteenth century, condemned the Jansenists, who had appealed from the BullUnigenitusto a general council, and pronounced sentence of excommunication upon all who promoted the appeal, unless they abandoned it and subscribed to theUnigenitus. This sentence was a general one, including all appeals from the Holy See to an œcumenical council. It was accepted by the whole church, a small party of Jansenists only remaining contumacious, and has been incorporated into the canon law. Moreover, the Holy See has always required the bishops to receive and promulgate without any judicial examination, and without delay, all its dogmatic judgments; and they have submitted to this demand obediently, even those who, like Bossuet, have held Gallican opinions. The most illustrious and irrefragable proof of the doctrine of the universal episcopate on this point which could be given, was really given at the Council of the Vatican. The monition at the end of the constitution on faith, which plainly declares the obligation of entire submission to the doctrinal decrees of the Holy See, was approved by the unanimous vote of all the fathers, including those belonging to what was called the minority. The Popes have always claimed and exercised the office of supreme judges in matters of faith, the episcopate and the whole church consenting and submitting, and all dissidents being compelled to keep silence or incur excommunication.
The definition of the Council of the Vatican has not, therefore, conferred any new rights on the Sovereign Pontiff or enlarged their exercise. It has only made an explicit statement that the rights always possessed and exercised by him are declared in the divine revelation to belong to himjure divino, with the guarantee of infallibility in their exercise, and proposed this statement to all the faithful with the obligation of receiving it as a part of the Catholic faith.
It is not very difficult to give satisfactory reasons why this was not done before. The church does not make definitions without a positive reason. Ordinarily, she waits until the truth is denied or disputed. Before the Council of Constance, or rather the period which immediately preceded that council, the plenary authority of the Pope had not been called in question except by open schismatics and heretics. We have the authority of Gerson, the principal author of Gallicanism, for the assertion that any one who had advanced his doctrine of the subjection of the Pope to the council before that time, would have been universally condemned as a heretic. The Council of Constance was a very irregular, abnormal, and imperfect council, until the election of Martin V. near its close. It was rather a congress or states-general of Christendom than a council. The residence of the popes at Avignon and the subsequent division of Catholic Christendom intothree obediences, had put the pontifical authority in abeyance and diminished the moral force of the Holy See. The right and duty of putting an end to this state of things, and bringing the whole church under the jurisdiction of one certain and lawful head, had devolved by default upon the bishops, aided by the influence and authority of the princes, and the counsel of the principal theologians and priests of the time. Harrassed and distracted by the difficulties and dangers which beset the church, a number of leading men whose spirit and intention were good, and who were devoted to the preservation of Catholic unity, had fallen into the grievous mistake of seeking a remedy for existing and threatening disorders in a limitation of the sovereign authority of the Vicar of Christ. Martin V. obviously did the only thing prudent or even possible for the moment, in leaving the irregular and uncanonical decrees which they had passed to die of their own intrinsic weakness. His successor, Eugenius IV., had too many open and contumacious rebels and schismatics to deal with, to permit him to alienate those who had fallen into minor errors, unawares, by a formal condemnation. At the Council of Florence, the reconciliation of the Greeks and other Orientals to the Holy See was the object of paramount importance. At the Fifth Council of Lateran and at the Council of Trent, the fathers were absorbed by questions of far greater immediate necessity than that of Gallicanism. Yet the Council of Lateran came very near defining the Papal infallibility, and the result of the Council of Trent was to strengthen the pontifical authority immensely, as may be seen by reading the history of its final confirmation and promulgation, and examining the bull of confirmation itself, which effectually sweeps away every vestige of the irregular legislation of Constance. Between the Council of Trent and the Council of the Vatican, no other œcumenical council intervened. The Gallican controversy, as all know, chiefly raged during the reign of Louis XIV. The Pope refrained from any formal condemnation of the Gallican tenets, although urged even by that monarch himself to terminate the controversy by a final judgment; and, although these opinions were held and advocated by a certain number of Catholic prelates and theologians from that time until the Council of the Vatican, they were never branded by any note of censure by the Holy See. It may seem surprising that such a patient and cautious method of dealing with errors which have at length been condemned as heretical should have been pursued; but any one who knows the whole history of the matter must admire the supernatural wisdom of this course of conduct. One motive, doubtless, for it, was respect for Bossuet. But another and more powerful reason was that the Holy See desired to gain a victory by the means of discussion and argument, before reverting to the exercise of authority.
And again, it is obvious at first sight that a far greater moral weight has been given to the final definition, by the fact that the Sovereign Pontiffs have left the solemn and decisive deliberation and judgment of a matter which relates to their own highest and most sublime prerogative, to the bishops of the church assembled in a general council. It may appear strange to some that the church could tolerate an error even for a time. But there is a great difference between those errors which subvert the foundation and rule of faith, andthose which only shake them a little. The errors of the Jansenists, Febronians, and other rebels against the authority of the Holy See, were of the first class, and were never tolerated. But the Gallicans of the school of Bossuet recognized and practised the duty of obedience to the Holy See. Their error lay rather in an illogical, indistinct, and imperfect conception of the supreme authority of the Roman Pontiff, than in a denial of any of its attributes. They admitted the right of the Pope to issue dogmatic judgments, and the obligation of bishops and the faithful to receive them with interior assent and obedience. They acknowledged that these judgments became judgments of the Catholic Church, and were made irreformable as soon as the assent of a majority of the bishops was even tacitly given. As this assent has always been given, not tacitly alone, but by the most formal and express adhesion, there has never been any practical divergence in doctrine between orthodox Gallicans and the more consistent Ultramontanes. St. Augustine himself had said that it is sometimes the wisest course to tolerate for a time the errors of those who hold the faith firmly, and err only by an imperfect knowledge and a confused conception of the truth. The church has not hesitated or faltered in regard to her own principles, or failed to act on them with full and distinct consciousness. But it is not always necessary for her to propose them fully and completely as articles of divine and Catholic faith to her children. It is for the church, guided, illuminated, governed, and assisted by the Holy Spirit, to judge of the time and manner in which she will unfold and display in all their brilliant majesty the treasures of her doctrine. She has waited until the nineteenth century to encircle the brow of the Queen of Heaven with the coronet of her definition of the Immaculate Conception, and to place in the tiara of the Vicar of Christ a new jewel by defining his infallibility. From both these splendid acts, in which her divine authority, her irresistible power, her infallible wisdom, and her miraculous unity are manifested with the most radiant lustre, incalculable blessings will flow in abundance upon her faithful children. Christ is honored in his Mother and in his Vicar. The serpent's head is crushed anew. Faith triumphs in her new conquests. The kingdom of God is strengthened and consolidated, and the kingdom of Satan is shaken to its foundations. Like the cathedral of Cologne, the superb edifice of theology approaches to its completion, the new marble rises side by side with that which is dimmed by the dust of ages, and new pinnacles are placed upon ancient foundations. This temple is one whose builder and maker is not man but God, whose designs are formed in eternity, but realized gradually and successively in time. From the foundation to the top-stone, the massive solidity, the symmetry and unity of plan, the harmony of proportions, the perfection of beauty, which become more clearly evident with every century, disclose the idea in the infinite mind of the Supreme Architect. The Catholic Church has been designed and constructed by the same being who designed and constructed the universe. As the solar system is unerring and unfailing in its movements, prescribed to it by the immutable law of its Creator, so is the church unerring and unfailing by the law of its divine Founder. And as the sun can never cease to be the unfailing source of light and heat, and the immovable centre of revolution, while the solarsystem endures, so the See of Peter must remain the centre and the source of truth, doctrine, law, unity, and perpetual movement to the Catholic Church, so long as time endures. It is this unerring stability of the Catholic Church in the law prescribed by its founder, Jesus Christ, which is properly termed infallibility; and, since this stability is communicated to all the distant and dependent churches under her obedience by the Roman Church, it is in the Roman Church that infallibility has its immovable seat and centre.
It is plain from the foregoing argument how false and flimsy is the pretence of Dr. Döllinger, M. Loyson, and the other rebels against the Council of the Vatican, that they have been excommunicated for adhering to the old Catholic faith which they have always held. All heretics have said the same thing, except those who have openly averred that they reject the authority of the Catholic Church. This is what the Arians said, and Arius knew how to play the injured, persecuted saint and prophet of God, even better than M. Loyson. The creed of Nice is a new creed, said the Arians and Semi-Arians. So said the rebels against the Councils of Constantinople, Ephesus, and Chalcedon. The little Jansenist sect in Holland calls itself the Old Catholic Church, and its members take the name of Old Catholics. The allegation is palpably and ridiculously false. The Gallican opinions were never a part of the Catholic doctrine. The highest claim that could ever be made for them by their advocates was, that they were probable opinions not condemned by the supreme authority. The best theologians have condemned them as erroneous and proximate to heresy. The Holy See has never shown them the slightest favor, but, on the contrary, has used all means, except that of express condemnation, to drive them out of seminaries, to destroy their credit, and to inculcate the true and sound doctrine. They were tolerated errors. While they were tolerated, it was possible for good Catholics, and even learned men, to hold them in good faith; since good and learned men, and even prelates, are fallible interpreters of both Scripture and tradition, and may err in reasoning and judgment. But their temporary toleration gave them no rights, not even those which belong to received opinions of Catholic schools of theology. There were good reasons for a purely passive toleration for a time. But none for the indefinite continuance of such toleration. The silence of an œcumenical council, viewing all the events which had occurred during the past two centuries, would have given the advocates of Gallicanism a plausible pretext to claim for it a positive toleration, a recognition of its real and solid probability. Moreover, it was reviving under a new and more dangerous form; numbers of good and loyal Catholics were beginning to go astray after a so-called Catholic liberalism, and a clique of secret traitors was plotting a revolt against the Holy See, disguised under the ambiguities and reservations of Gallicanism. Error, though it may lie dormant and not show its dangerous character for a time, sooner or later works out the conclusions contained in its premises. Gallicanism was an illogical doctrine, containing implicitly the denial of the papal supremacy. It was necessary, therefore, to condemn it, and to define the truth. Those who gave up their opinions in obedience to the decree of the Vatican acted like Catholics, and like reasonable and consistent men. As Catholics, they werebound to obey a divine authority. As reasonable men, they were bound to abandon an opinion which they had embraced on merely probable grounds, as soon as the certain truth was made known to them.
Moreover, the malcontents were taught from their childhood, and some of them have themselves taught, as authors and professors, the infallibility of œcumenical councils as a doctrine of the Catholic faith. They have renounced, abjured, and trampled on that faith, by rebelling against the Council of the Vatican, and bidding defiance to the authority of their bishops and of the Pope. They are justly excommunicated. The anathema of the church has smitten them, and they are doomed to wither and die, and go into oblivion. As for the Catholic Church and her docile children, they have made a great act of faith which has had a most salutary effect already, in strengthening the habit of divine faith, and in illuminating the intellect with the knowledge of the truth. Its salutary effects in the future will be still greater. There was never a time when the continuous and immediate exercise of the supreme teaching authority of the Vicar of Christ was so necessary and so easy as the present critical, momentous period. Never a time when it was so necessary for all the faithful to place an absolute and boundless confidence in the chair of Peter. God has made known to all men, as a truth of his divine revelation, the infallibility of that chair, and of his august Vicar who sits in it. This truth is equally certain with the greatest mysteries of the faith, the Trinity and the Incarnation. This chair of Peter can neither be deceived nor deceive us, for its doctrine rests on the veracity of the Holy Spirit, the author of truth, and in believing and obeying it we believe and obey Almighty God.
Soul of the Bard! stand up, like thy harp's majestical pillar!Like its golden arch, O heart! in reverence bow thee and bend!Mind of the Bard, like the strings be manifold, changeful, responsive:This is the harp God smites—the harp, man's master and friend!Aubrey de Vere.
Soul of the Bard! stand up, like thy harp's majestical pillar!Like its golden arch, O heart! in reverence bow thee and bend!Mind of the Bard, like the strings be manifold, changeful, responsive:This is the harp God smites—the harp, man's master and friend!Aubrey de Vere.
Soul of the Bard! stand up, like thy harp's majestical pillar!Like its golden arch, O heart! in reverence bow thee and bend!Mind of the Bard, like the strings be manifold, changeful, responsive:This is the harp God smites—the harp, man's master and friend!
Aubrey de Vere.
Cayla, August 1, 1867.
My dear Friend: In pressing my hand for the last time, when I left Quebec two months ago, you said, "Do not fail to visit Cayla." I made you the promise, and to-day I accomplish it. It is from the chamber itself of Eugénie de Guérin that I write.
You who have such an avowed admiration for the sister of Maurice, with what rapture you will enjoy the minute details which I have to communicate! How many times have we asked, after having read the admirableJournalof Eugénie, after having lived with her the life at Cayla, what had become of that domestic life which she described with such exquisite art, and which she caused us to love so much? Who are now the actual inmates of that antique château? If "Mimi," sweet "Mimi," is still living? etc. To all these questions I can to-day reply. On my return to Poitiers from a short visit to the little city of Airvault, the cradle of my ancestors, I turned my steps toward Toulouse, where I arrived this morning. The entire city was in a state of festivity, the streets were all decorated, and filled with pilgrims, flags waved in every direction, and the façades of the houses were hung with wreaths of flowers. They were celebrating the last day of the grandfêtesin honor of St. Germaine Cousin.
The railroad which runs from Toulouse to Alby stops at Gaillac, and there branches off to the station of Tessounières. Leaving Alby to the right, I came down to Cahuzac about two o'clock. The terminus is about half a league from the village. I was obliged to make this little trip on foot, in company with the mail-carrier, who also took charge of my valise.
The landscape is hilly and abrupt, and has a savage aspect. The road winds through the valley, rises and descends between the wooded mountains, whence peep out here and there some white rocks which indicate a sterile soil.
At a turn in the road, I perceived on an acclivity Cahuzac, whose name vibrates so pleasantly on the ears of Eugénie. From there a carriage conducted me in a few moments to Andillac, a village more than modest, which appeared on my left, with its poor little church, where repose the tombs of Maurice and Eugénie, where she came so often to pray, to weep, to hope, to implore with many tears the salvation of her brother.
Here the road turns off and climbs a hillside. The guide pointed with his finger across the trees on the other side of the ravine to the Château of Cayla, which rises isolated on a graceful eminence. 'Tis a spacious mansion of severe aspect. Nothing distinguishes it from ordinary structures, except a little tower built on one of its angles, which gives it a slightly feudal tinge. Notwithstanding the unobtrusiveness of this manor when seen in its landscape-framing, the effect is laughing and picturesque, thanks to the prestige of poetry, that fairy enchantress who has touched every object in this domainwith her golden ring. Here, though the fairy is an angel, it is Eugénie.
The carriage crossed the ravine, and followed the banks of the St. Usson, a little stream which turns the parish mill. It then began the steep ascent to Cayla, and finally stopped before the farm, in the midst of a crowd of chickens, who were cackling and disporting themselves, in the sun, on a litter of straw. A servant came up at that moment from the rabbit-warren on the north side, and politely invited me into thesalon, a pretty enough room, opening on the terrace. Some furniture in modern style, white curtains, some wax fruit and flowers, a few paintings on the walls, a little picture of Cayla and its surroundings, on the table a handsome edition of the works of Eugénie and Maurice; this last the most beautiful ornament of this home.
The door opened, and a young lady with a distinguished air and dreamy expression entered. It was Caroline de Guérin, Eugénie's niece, that dear little "Caro" whom she used to rock on her knees, now married to M. Melchior Mâzuc, of a noble and wealthy family of Montpellier. She was soon followed by another person, much older but still sprightly, dressed very humbly, with an expression of extreme sweetness in her countenance, and a modesty yet more lovely, with marked features, lit up by her bright eyes, and a smile uniting extreme delicacy and benevolence.
I introduced myself as coming from America, from Canada, attracted to this remote corner of France by the fame of Eugénie.
"Has the reputation of our Eugénie reached that far?" exclaimed Marie de Guérin, for it was she.
From this moment the conversation did not languish, fed, as it was, by the thousand nothings around which the halo of poetry has been thrown by the author of theJournal.
Just as I rose to take my leave, M. Mâzuc entered, followed by Madame de Guérin, the widow of Erembert. They had summoned M. Mâzuc from the fields, where he had been superintending his vinedressers. He is a man in the strength of age, an old officer in the army of Algiers, with a manly face, energetic look, amiable and impulsive character.
"What!" exclaimed he. "You come all the way from America and as far as our mountains to visit us, and already talk of leaving? No, no; you must not think of such a thing. You have not seen anything yet; you must stay and visit the neighborhood, and we will give you Eugénie's room, and you will find it just as it was at the time of theJournal. Then, here is my brother Nérestan, who has just returned from Africa, where he filled the office of officer of colonization; he will entertain you about Algiers, and you can talk to him of Canada."
"Oh! very well," said M. Nérestan, shaking me cordially by the hand; "and I will begin at once by telling you that the best system of colonization that I know of, I found in a book printed in Canada which accidentally fell into my hands."
They all then urged me with so much politeness to stay that, conquered by their kind persuasions, I yielded to the pleasure of remaining.
While awaiting tea, Marie equipped herself without any ceremony in an old straw hat with a broad brim, and invited me to take a walk and visit the environs. We were already old acquaintances. We went out by the door that opens on the terrace, which rests on the crest of the ravine. Along the wall grew severalpomegranate-trees, and some jasmine in bloom, from which Maurice gathered a bouquet the day before his death. He walked down here, leaning on the arm of Eugénie, to warm in the bright sun his limbs already struck with the chill of death, to bathe his panting breast in the pure warm morning air, and to contemplate for the last time the beautiful sky of Cayla.
Some stone steps lead to the bottom of the ravine, where the little stream runs along, shaded by willows, whose rippling has so often caused that amiable recluse to dream and sing in her little chamber. Here is the fountain of Téoulé, that is to say, of the Tile, so-called from the huge tile which serves as a reservoir for the water from the rock. We crossed the Pontet which leads to the laundry, where, like the beautiful Nausicaa of old, Eugénie came sometimes to wash her robes; and which inspired these pretty reflections:
"A day passed in drying one's linen leaves but little to say. It is, however, pretty enough to spread out a nice white wash on the grass, or to see it waving from the lines. You can be, if you wish, either the Nausicaa of Homer, or one of the princesses of the Bible who washed the tunics of their brothers. We have a laundry that you have not seen, at the Moulinasse, large enough and full of water, which embellishes this recess, and attracts the birds, who love the coolness to sing in. I write you with clean hands, having just returned from washing a dress in the stream. 'Tis delightful to wash, and see the fish pass, the little waves, bits of grass, and fallen flowers, to follow this, that, and I know not what in the thread of the stream! So many things are seen by the laundress who knows how to look in the course of the stream! 'Tis the bathing-place of the birds, the mirror of heaven, the image of life, a hidden path, a baptismal reservoir."
A few steps in the meadow, a superb chestnut-tree, three or four centuries old, spreads its vast shade; old sentinel of the château, which has seen born and die the generations of De Guérins. The ridge of Sept-Fonds winds through the trees as far as the top of the hill; on the neighboring declivity is the little coppice of Buis, with its pretty little pathway, full of shade and mystery, and where Eugénie had her little dog buried.
"July 1st.—He is dead, my poor little dog. I am so sad, I have but little inclination to write.
"July 2d.—I have just put Bijou in the warren of the coppice, among the flowers and birds. I am going to plant a rose-bush there, and call it thedog-rose. I have kept his two little front paws, which so often rested on my hands, on my feet, on my knees. He was so nice, so graceful when he lay down, and in his caresses! In the morning he used to come to the foot of my bed, to lick my feet as I was getting up; then went to give papa the same greeting. We were his two favorites. All this comes back to me now. Past objects go to the heart. Papa regrets him as much as I do; he said he would have given ten sheep for this poor little dog. Alas! everything must leave us, or we must leave everything.
"A letter just received has caused me another pang. The affections of the heart differ like their objects. What a difference the grief for Bijou, and that for a soul being lost, or at least in danger of it! O my God! how frightful that is in the eyes of faith!"
Passing before the farm, we cast a glance at the other side of the valley. Facing us, this mass of green isthe Bois du Pigimbert, with the hamlet of Pausadon, where Vialarette lived, that poor woman whom Marie and her sister used to visit. More to the left, on the heights, is the village of Mérix, and below, toward the north, Leutin, where Eugénie went so frequently to hear Mass.
The road from the warren of the north skirts the base of the hill, which extends itself in the rear of the old castle. Here, as elsewhere, all is full of souvenirs.
"Every tree has its history, every stone a name."
Here Maurice played with his sisters among the branches of the Treilhon, that old vine-stalk which twines itself round the trunk of an oak-tree. "Mimi" smiled at the recollection of the slides they used to take down the side of the ravine. She pointed out a little underwood of maples; they were small trees about the thickness of one's arm, and which have nothing in common with the king of our forests.
A sudden storm coming up obliged us to seek shelter in the mansion. A few moments before, the sky was serene and blue; now all was obscured by clouds, the rain came down in torrents, and it began to thunder and lighten. This southern sky always reminds me of a great child, changing from smiles to tears with a wonderful facility.
At half-past seven, supper was announced, at which was served the excellent wine of Cayla. At the side of its father, was little Mâzuc de Guérin, a child of eighteen months. Oh! that Eugénie could have caressed this child of "Caro's."
The evening passed delightfully; anecdotes were told, reminiscences of Cayla, of America, of Algeria, and episodes related by M. Mâzuc of the wars in Africa, in the mountains of Kabylia. "Mimi" then brought us back to our present surroundings by relating some interesting details of the widow of Maurice. She returned from India after the death of her husband, and died at Bordeaux in 1861.
And the good M. Bories is still living, but struck with a cruel malady, and is but a mere wreck.
At bedtime I was conducted to my room. A spiral staircase ascends to the principal story, and leads into the great hall. This is the stately and solemn apartment of the manor. In it a vast fireplace, whose mantel is sustained by caryatides in stone; on either side are the figures of two cavaliers in their armor, rudely sketched. In former days these walls were covered with the armor of the seignors of this house; this inlaid floor, to-day so silent, resounded to the footsteps of armed knights, carrying on the points of their lances standards and pennons on which the ladies of the castle had embroidered the proud device of the sires of De Guérin.Omni exceptione majores.It was in this saloon, now so deserted, that they armed themselves to fight against the Moors and the ferocious Albigenses, or where they donned their richest armor, their brilliant helmets of finest steel, and their gilded breast-plates, to cross their lances in the tournament. At the time of Eugénie, all this antique splendor had long since passed away. Here as elsewhere, the Revolution had reaped its harvest of destruction, and the rich Seignors de Guérin "were now," said she, "only poor squires, striving to keep the wolf from the door."
On the right side of the hall is a door opening into the chamber of "Mimi;" on the left, one opening into that of Maurice. At the extreme end, away back, retired like a cell,hidden like the nest of a bird, is the little room of Eugénie. It is in this room, and on her table, that I am now writing to you, surrounded by the same silence, and lit by the same modest light of her lamp. Before me is her little chapel in miniature, her crucifix, herétagèreof books. Nothing besides this, neither ornaments nor luxury; nothing except the most commonplace. But these valueless nothings have become relics; this little room a chapel, this table an altar. 'Twas from this white and peaceful cage that the dove of Cayla flew away to the land of dreams, gathered the celestial flowers of poetry, conversed with the angels, and sang with her heart. It is here that she prayed, read, wrote herJournal, and those admirable letters to Louise de Bayne, Madame de Maistre, and Maurice; 'tis here that she wrote her heart's history, that she lived, that she died; from here that she went to rejoin Maurice.
I turned over the leaves of theJournal, and gave myself up to its fascinations, where the least object, an insect that flies, a bird that sings, a ray of light penetrating the blinds, inspired her with those charming thoughts, those poetical pages, like a harmony of Lamartine, fine and profound as a passage of La Rochefoucauld. Her thoughts take at times the most unexpected flights, sublime transports, like an elevation of Bossuet's.
Never perhaps has there been a more delicate organization, a more susceptible imagination. Her soul was like an Æolian harp which vibrates to the slightest breath.
Mlle. de Guérin wrote with a golden pen. I would compare her to Madame Sévigné, if Madame Sévigné was less frivolous. The latter amuses and dazzles, the former captivates and touches; the one is as bright as a lark, the other dreamy as a dove. The first has more genius, the second more soul. There is more sentimentality in Madame de Sévigné, in Eugénie de Guérin more sentiment. The writings of one skim over the surface of the soul, those of the other penetrate it. We can admire Madame de Sévigné, we love Eugénie de Guérin.
Before me, hanging to the framework of her library, is a picture of St. Thérèse de Gérard, a present to her from the Baroness de Rivières. I re-read the passage suggested by this little engraving, those aspirations toward contemplative life, which reveal such tender piety, such deep and true devotion. This pure heart turned naturally toward heaven, like the mariner's needle, which always points to the north. "She was of those souls," said Mgr. Mermillod, "who in the midst of our material cares hear theSursum Cordaof the Holy Church, and who delight in these noble and holy aspirations." "We can make a church everywhere," says she in some of her writings.
I open the window, and, like her, I contemplate the beautiful night—the country half-buried in shadows, the myriads of stars, which, like golden nails, sustain the blue tapestry of heaven. All is silence, meditation, mystery; a single murmur, that of the stream.
It sings for me, as it formerly did for Eugénie. In looking back into the past, I ask myself if I have ever spent a sweeter hour or experienced more vivid emotions.
Adieu, it is midnight. Expect soon a sequel to this letter.
ToM. l'Abbé L., Quebec.
Paris, August 9, 1867.
... At five o'clock in the morning, I heard a knock at my door. I was already up. The previous eveningI had made an arrangement with Mlle. de Guérin to go to Andillac, where I wished to say Mass, and visit the graves of Maurice and Eugénie.
The cheerful aspect of nature seemed to echo the brightness of my thoughts. The heights of Mérix were bathed in the rosy hues of morning; in the sky appeared the first golden threads of the sun; in the plain the slight fragrance of the dew, perfumed breezes, and the warbling of the birds.
We saluted in passing the little cross where the brother and sister took such a tender adieu of each other, where Eugénie preserved so long the impression that the horse's foot made in the plastic soil. One Christmas Eve, going to midnight Mass, she gathered, in her simple piety, some branches covered with hoar-frost from the bushes which grow along this road, which she wished to place before the Blessed Sacrament—a scene which she described with so much freshness and charming grace:
"We all went to midnight Mass, papa in advance—the night was superb. Never had there been a more beautiful midnight, so much so that papa put his head out from his mantle several times to look at the firmament. The ground was covered with hoar-frost, but we did not feel the cold, and then the air was warmed in front of us by the torches which our servants carried to light the way. It was charming, I assure you, and I only wish you could have been with us, going to church along these roads bordered with little bushes, as white as if they were all in bloom. The hoar-frost makes beautiful flowers. We saw a branch so lovely that we wished to make a bouquet for the Blessed Sacrament, but it melted in our hand. All flowers are short-lived. I regretted my bouquet: it was sad to see it melt, and dissolve drop by drop."
Going along, Mlle. de Guérin told me of the last sickness and death of her sister. Two years before, her health became seriously affected; it was in vain that the physician sent her to the waters of Cauterets, to seek the strength which would never more return.
She felt her end approaching; but she did not tremble; in her complete resignation, there was no place for fear. As she watched the span of life gradually diminish, she seemed to fold within herself, like the sensitive plant; wrapped around her the mantle of holy recollection, in which great souls envelope themselves at the approach of that supreme contemplation which she foresaw. She talked but little, prayed much, and smiled rarely. Her little room had become the cell of a religious; she lived there cloistered, only leaving it to go to church. Prayer was her recreation, the Holy Eucharist her food.
"I wish to die after having received the holy communion," said she a short time before her death. They noticed that she looked often toward Andillac, where she was going so soon to dwell. The swallow is compelled to fly away on the eve of winter; the winter of death was approaching.
She took cold going to Mass on the Epiphany, and returned home with a fever, which increased rapidly. Inflammation of the lungs supervened, which hurried her to the portal of death in a few days. After having received the holy Viaticum, "I can die now," sighed she with a celestial smile. "Adieu, my dear Marie!" And as she felt the tears tremble in her eyes, at seeing her so overcome with grief, she embraced her, and said, while turning her headaway to conceal her emotion, "Ah! do not let us be sad!" as if she was afraid of weakening the generosity of her sacrifice.
Such was the appointed end of Mlle. Eugénie de Guérin. She died like a saint, "as the angels would die, if they were not immortals," said one of her friends.
We arrived at Andillac.
"Mosou Ritou"—M. le Curé—"is he in the rectory?" asked Mlle. de Guérin in patois of the old servant, as she entered with the familiarity of an habituée.
M. l'Abbé Massol welcomed us cordially, and conversed with me about a project which he had had in view for some time of rebuilding the church of Andillac with the offerings of the admirers of Eugénie de Guérin. The encouraging sympathy which he had received led him to hope that he would very soon be able to accomplish his purpose, which will be the honor of the tomb of this pious young girl, and her aureola by choice: this was indeed the only glory that she desired.[146]
The actual church of Andillac is really nothing more than a ruin. Its tottering belfry, roof falling in from age, cracked and crumbling walls, present the picture of desolation. It is necessary to descend several steps in order to enter this other Bethlehem, whose sombre, decayed, and humid aspect sends a chill to the heart. Nothing less than the most ardent faith, or Eugénie's happy imagination, could enable a person to breathe in what seems more like a charnel-house than a church, or cause a ray of brightness and poetry to enter there.
I whispered to Mlle. Guérin that I was going to say Mass for the illustrious dead of her family; and I had the happiness of giving the holy communion to the sister of Eugénie. A quarter of an hour passed in thanksgiving on the prie-dieu where she used to kneel left an impression never to be forgotten; angel, she conversed here with the angels, with the Spouse of virgins; she unfolded here to the wind of eternity those wings of light which detached her every day more and more from the earth, and which have finally transported her to the bosom of our Lord.
On leaving the church, Mlle. de Guérin silently opened the gate of the cemetery. I was face to face with the beloved graves. The morning sunlight flooded this garden of the dead, as if to remind me of that other invisible light which illumines the other shore of life that never fades. A shaft of white marble, the only monument in the cemetery, marks the grave of Maurice. We read distinctly the mournful date,July 19, 1839. At the side to the right is a simple wooden cross, one of its arms supporting a crown of immortelles, with this inscription enclosed in a medallion:Eugénie de Guérin, May 31, 1848. In the rear were two iron crosses, one of them marking the grave of M. Joseph de Guérin, Eugénie's father, and the other that of Erembert. They died a year apart, 1850 and 1851.
I remained a long time on my knees beside the grave of Eugénie, in the same place where, overwhelmed by a nameless grief, she wept torrents of tears, where she probed that terrible mystery of death, fathomlessas her sorrow; and whence she rose at last, crushed for ever, but resigned, with this sublime cry of a Christian, "Let us throw our hearts into eternity!" She sleeps now by the side of that dear Maurice for whom she often wept, until the day when they will rise together never more to be separated.
Before leaving, Mlle. de Guérin gathered a bouquet of roses and immortelles from her sister's grave, placed it in my hands, and went out, without uttering a word.
Adieu, sweet andblessed Eugénie! The glory which you did not seek has sought you, but the aureola which shines over your mausoleum need not alarm your modesty or your humility. It is pure as your soul, sweet as your nature, religious as your thoughts, benevolent as your life. Already it has illumined more than one soul, and strengthened more than one heart. It will do more: it will rebuild this temple, whence will arise in your honor the hymn of gratitude.Pertransiit benefaciendo!
On my return to Cayla, I thanked my kind hosts for their gracious hospitality, commended myself to the prayers of Marie,the holy, and resumed the route to Toulouse.
I have brought you several souvenirs from Cayla, some drawings, one of Eugénie's autographs, a few flowers, and a bunch of immortelles, which will be relics for you.
ToM. l'Abbé L., Quebec.
DATES.
"M. Joseph de Guérin died in 1851, age 70 years."Madame Joseph de Guérin, née Gertrude de Fontenilles, died in 1819."Erembert, born January, 1803, died December 16, 1850."Eugénie, born January 25, 1805, died May 21, 1848."Marie, born August 30, 1806."Maurice, born August 10, 1818, died July 19, 1839."
"M. Joseph de Guérin died in 1851, age 70 years.
"Madame Joseph de Guérin, née Gertrude de Fontenilles, died in 1819.
"Erembert, born January, 1803, died December 16, 1850.
"Eugénie, born January 25, 1805, died May 21, 1848.
"Marie, born August 30, 1806.
"Maurice, born August 10, 1818, died July 19, 1839."
LATER.
December 20, 1869.
Since my return to Canada, several pleasant little parcels have been sent me from Cayla, among them three different views of the château, a map of the parish of Andillac, a photograph of the church, and of the cemetery in which are the graves of Maurice and Eugénie, the likenesses of Maurice, Marie, and Caroline de Guérin.
The only picture which exists of Eugénie is a simple pen-and-ink sketch, scarcely outlined, which was sent me by the editor of Eugénie's works, M. Trébutien.
Among these precious souvenirs from Cayla, I must also mention an unpublished letter from Henry V., Count de Chambord, and another from Cardinal de Villecourt, without counting those addressed to me by Marie de Guérin, several of which would not do discredit to the collection of Eugénie's. I will only cite from one of them a short passage in which she alludes to our young Canadian Zouaves:
"I am so edified to see the devotion of the Canadians to our Holy Father the Pope. Your young men leave for Rome, as did the crusaders of old, for Palestine, at this word,God wills it. Let us hope that this plenitude of generosity will not be without a happy result. Already they have given an example at Mentana; if necessary they will repeat it...."—Letter dated January 30, 1868.
LETTER FROM HENRY V., COUNT DE CHAMBORD.
Frohsdorf, June 19, 1864.
I recollect, mademoiselle, havingread several years ago, with much interest, some remarkable extracts from the works of M. Maurice de Guérin, a young writer cut down in the flower of his age and talents. I could not, then, fail to welcome with a peculiar satisfaction the book of Mlle. Eugénie de Guérin, faithful mirror in which is so constantly reflected the twofold affection that filled her life—the love of God and her tenderness for her brother, sweet lesson and touching example of that ardent, lively, and resigned faith which, in the midst of the sorrows of this world, only finds consolation in looking toward heaven, where those whom we love here below, separated from us in an instant by death, are united again never more to be parted. I must not defer any longer saying to you how much I appreciate this gift, and, above all, the pious motive which prompted it—as well as the expressions of devotion and attachment with which it was accompanied, in your name, as well as in that of your sister-in-law. To M. Trébutien and his daughter I beg you will also express my gratitude.
Accept for yourself, with many thanks, the assurance of my very sincere sentiments.
Henri.
To Mlle. Marie de Guérin.