As a rule, when Cardinal Newman's poetry is mentioned, people think of "The Pillar of the Cloud," better known as "Lead, Kindly Light." This lyric is only one of the many beautiful poems written by an author whose fame as a writer of the finest modern prose in the English language has eclipsed his reputation as a poet. Nevertheless, he wrote a very great poem, "The Dream of Gerontius"—a poem which the intellectual world admires more and more every year, and which yields its best only after careful study and consideration. It has been described as a metrical meditation on death. It is more than that; it is the realization by means of a loving heart and a poetic imagination of the state of a just soul after death,—Gerontius typifying not the soul of a particular person imagined by Cardinal Newman, but your soul, my soul, any soul which may be fortunate enough to satisfy the judging and merciful God. No poet has ever presented the condition of the soul, as made known by the theology of the Catholic Church, so forcibly and appealingly as Cardinal Newman. The poem is filled with intense white light, and the soul on earth sees itselfas it will be at the moment before its death; as it will be when, strengthened by the last sacraments and upborne by the prayers of its friends, it approaches the bar of judgment. Separated from the body until the day of the Resurrection, when it shall be united to that glorified body, it is not sundered by death from the love of those who have loved it on earth. Gerontius about to be judged feels that he must fail
"And drop from out the universal frameInto that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss,That utter nothingness"
"And drop from out the universal frameInto that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss,That utter nothingness"
"And drop from out the universal frameInto that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss,That utter nothingness"
"And drop from out the universal frame
Into that shapeless, scopeless, blank abyss,
That utter nothingness"
from which the soul came, and, in its depths of fear, it pleads silently that its friends in Christ may pray for it. The dread of annihilation is upon it; it fears "the great deep"[1]to which it goes. And, in the agony of its rending from the beloved body, it thinks—for it can no longer speak—of the horror of nothingness. All its physical supports are gone. Its eyes are darkening and glazing; its feet motionless and cold; its arms and hands rigid. To those in the sick-room the body once so beautiful,
"from the graced decorum of the hairEv'n to the tingling sweetSoles of the simple, earth-confiding feet,"[2]
"from the graced decorum of the hairEv'n to the tingling sweetSoles of the simple, earth-confiding feet,"[2]
"from the graced decorum of the hairEv'n to the tingling sweetSoles of the simple, earth-confiding feet,"[2]
"from the graced decorum of the hair
Ev'n to the tingling sweet
Soles of the simple, earth-confiding feet,"[2]
is now white as white marble and as lifeless. But the soul is not dead, though the earthly parts of the bodyappear to be, and it hears the prayers of the Church for the dying as the supreme moment of its departure from the body is at hand. Some of these prayers, translated from the Latin, the author puts into the mouths of the assistants. They have all the refreshing strength that the Church gives; they represent the supplication of millions of devout souls bound to this dying brother in the communion of saints. The soul gains new strength from these prayers; it arouses itself; sees God through the ruin of the world, and wills to be wholly His. The assistants by the bedside redouble their supplications in the sacred words of the Litany for the Dying, which Cardinal Newman again interprets in English verse, though the Litany is in the Latin tongue. Again, the soul gains strength for a moment, and calls, in the universal speech of the Church, for strength, and that, "out of the depths,"[3]the holy God might save it. Then it uses its will to believe, and within itself asserts the creed of the Church, which is musically interpreted by the poet:
"Firmly I believe and trulyGod is Three, and God is One,And I next acknowledge dulyManhood taken by the Son."
"Firmly I believe and trulyGod is Three, and God is One,And I next acknowledge dulyManhood taken by the Son."
"Firmly I believe and trulyGod is Three, and God is One,And I next acknowledge dulyManhood taken by the Son."
"Firmly I believe and truly
God is Three, and God is One,
And I next acknowledge duly
Manhood taken by the Son."
The moment of agony, the moment of the realization of the soul that it is alone, bereft of its support, is terrible but short. In the "Inferno" of Dante, with all its objective horrors, there are no lines so terrible as these, which show the spirit naked, wild with horror and dismay:
"And worse and worse,Some bodily form of illFloats on the wind, with many a loathsome curseTainting the hallowed air, and laughs and flapsIts hideous wings."
"And worse and worse,Some bodily form of illFloats on the wind, with many a loathsome curseTainting the hallowed air, and laughs and flapsIts hideous wings."
"And worse and worse,Some bodily form of illFloats on the wind, with many a loathsome curseTainting the hallowed air, and laughs and flapsIts hideous wings."
"And worse and worse,
Some bodily form of ill
Floats on the wind, with many a loathsome curse
Tainting the hallowed air, and laughs and flaps
Its hideous wings."
We can imagine the scene in the room in which Gerontius is dying. The priest, in his surplice and violet stole, has sprinkled the chamber and the persons present with holy water, using the form of the cross, and has said theAsperges:
"Thou shall sprinkle me with hyssop, and I shall be cleansed: Thou shalt wash me, and I shall be made whiter than snow."
Gerontius has kissed the crucifix, and it is still before him. In the glow of the lighted candle the "Litany for the Dying" is recited by the priest and the "assistants," that is to say, all in the room who will pray. The passing of the soul may not have occupied a second, as we reckon time, and yet, as "The Dream of Gerontius" suggests, the soul, sensitive and vital, may live through what might seem to be a hundred years. As soon as it appears that the soul has departed, the priest says:
"Subvenite, Sancti Dei, occurrite Angeli Domini,Suscipientes animam ejus, Offerentes eam in conspectu Altissimi."[4]
This prayer dwells last in the ears of Gerontius. He has slept for a moment, refreshed by the Church, and he awakes to find himself free.
"I had a dream; yes: some one softly said'He's gone,' and then a sigh went round the room,And then I surely heard a priestly voiceCry 'Subvenite,' and they knelt in prayer."[5]
"I had a dream; yes: some one softly said'He's gone,' and then a sigh went round the room,And then I surely heard a priestly voiceCry 'Subvenite,' and they knelt in prayer."[5]
"I had a dream; yes: some one softly said'He's gone,' and then a sigh went round the room,And then I surely heard a priestly voiceCry 'Subvenite,' and they knelt in prayer."[5]
"I had a dream; yes: some one softly said
'He's gone,' and then a sigh went round the room,
And then I surely heard a priestly voice
Cry 'Subvenite,' and they knelt in prayer."[5]
The soul, borne forward on its way to the Judge, hears the song of its Guardian Angel, whose work is done. As the soul proceeds, the voices of the demons are heard; they express the pride of those who defy God. They cry out:
"Virtue and vice,A knave's pretence,'Tis all the same."
"Virtue and vice,A knave's pretence,'Tis all the same."
"Virtue and vice,A knave's pretence,'Tis all the same."
"Virtue and vice,
A knave's pretence,
'Tis all the same."
The soul wonders why it cannot move hand or foot, and the angel says:
"Nor hast thou now extension, with its partsCorrelative,—long habit cozens thee,—Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move."
"Nor hast thou now extension, with its partsCorrelative,—long habit cozens thee,—Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move."
"Nor hast thou now extension, with its partsCorrelative,—long habit cozens thee,—Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move."
"Nor hast thou now extension, with its parts
Correlative,—long habit cozens thee,—
Nor power to move thyself, nor limbs to move."
So infinitesimal has the time been since the soul left the body that the "Subvenite" is not yet finished when the soul is at the very throne of Judgment:
"I hear the voices that I left on earth."
"I hear the voices that I left on earth."
"I hear the voices that I left on earth."
"I hear the voices that I left on earth."
The angel answers:
"It is the voice of friends around thy bedWho say the 'Subvenite' with the priest."
"It is the voice of friends around thy bedWho say the 'Subvenite' with the priest."
"It is the voice of friends around thy bedWho say the 'Subvenite' with the priest."
"It is the voice of friends around thy bed
Who say the 'Subvenite' with the priest."
The angel of the Agony supplicates for the soul, as for its brother, and then the eager spirit darts forward alone to the feet of God. Gerontius is judged; he passes lovingly to Purgatory. His Guardian Angel says:
"And ye great powers,Angels of Purgatory, receive from meMy charge, a precious soul, until the dayWhen, from all bond and forfeiture released,I shall reclaim it for the courts of light."
"And ye great powers,Angels of Purgatory, receive from meMy charge, a precious soul, until the dayWhen, from all bond and forfeiture released,I shall reclaim it for the courts of light."
"And ye great powers,Angels of Purgatory, receive from meMy charge, a precious soul, until the dayWhen, from all bond and forfeiture released,I shall reclaim it for the courts of light."
"And ye great powers,
Angels of Purgatory, receive from me
My charge, a precious soul, until the day
When, from all bond and forfeiture released,
I shall reclaim it for the courts of light."
Waiting until he shall enter into the full glory of the Lord, Gerontius is left by the poet. This soul knows now what it did not know on earth,—what the real happiness of Heaven is; "it measures the distance which separates itself from this happiness. It understands how infinite this distance is, through its own fault. It suffers terribly. Its sorrow grows with its love, as it loves God more and more with all the fibres of its being; it is drawn by vital and mighty bonds towards the object of its love, but each bond is broken by the weight of its faults, which like a mass of lead hold it down."[6]
There can be no question as to the correspondence of the teaching of Cardinal Newman with the theology of the Catholic Church. Dante is put by Raphael, in the famous picture, the Disputà, among the Doctors of the Church, and the author of "The Dream of Gerontius" would have merited a similar honor even if he had never been created[7]a Cardinal.
For advanced students interested in the study of literature a comparative reading of "The Dream of Gerontius" with the "Purgatorio" of Dante, BookIII, Milton's "Paradise Lost," Rossetti's "The Blessed Damosel," and Tennyson's "In Memoriam" would be very interesting and profitable, provided this is done always with reference to the exact teaching of the Church. For exalted purity, for terseness and beauty of expression, for musical cadences, "The Dream of Gerontius" stands first among the few great poems that depict the life after death. "In Memoriam" is made up of human yearnings, of faith, of doubt. It never passes beyond "the bar" of death. Milton's "Paradise" is one of angels rather than men, and Rossetti's poem is only a reflection of earth. In Dante's "Purgatorio" the splendor seems to be so great that the appeal to the individual heart is lost, but the oftener we read "The Dream of Gerontius," the more its power and beauty and peace grow upon us.
The story of General Charles George Gordon,"Chinese Gordon," one of the heroes of the nineteenth century, has passed into history, and every enthusiastic boy or girl ought to know it by heart. Gordon was the type of the valiant soldier who carried the love and fear of God everywhere. He, besieged by pagan hordes, died, in 1884, the death of a martyr to duty. This man was only one of those who found consolation in "The Dream of Gerontius" at the very hour of death. General Gordon's copy of the poem—a small duodecimo—was presented to the late Mr. Frank Power, correspondent of the LondonTimes. The latter sent it home to his sister in Dublin. Deep pencil-marks had been drawn under lines all bearing on death and prayer. For instance: "Pray for me, O my friends"; "'Tis death, O loving friends, your prayers,—'tis he"; "So pray for me, my friends, who have not strength to pray"; "Use well the interval"; "Prepare to meet thy God"; "Now that the hour is come, my fear is fled." Later Power met the fate of a hero. The last words that Gordon underlined before he gave him the book were:
"Farewell, but not forever, brother dear;Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow."
"Farewell, but not forever, brother dear;Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow."
"Farewell, but not forever, brother dear;Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow."
"Farewell, but not forever, brother dear;
Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow."
The metre in "The Dream of Gerontius" changes with the thought, and it is always appropriate to it. The solemn movement of the opening lines gives the typical music, which is varied lyrically. As an example of exquisite musical variety on a firm basis of unity the poem is admirable. The level of "Lead,Kindly Light" is reached many times in the expression of the highest faith and love, and in musical quality the famous hymn is even surpassed by
"Take me away, and in the lowest deepThere let me be."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deepThere let me be."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deepThere let me be."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep
There let me be."
Why Cardinal Newman should have presented the experience of a soul after death as a "dream" we can imagine from his habitual caution in dealing with all subjects of importance. He has the boldness of neither Dante nor Milton, and he will not present the poetical experience of a man, at such a vitally sacred moment, as an actual fact; he is too reverential for that, and he calls it a "Dream." In a letter written in answer to an inquiry as to the meaning of the lines in "The Pillar of the Cloud,"
"And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile,"—
"And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile,"—
"And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile,"—
"And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile,"—
he says, quoting Keble, that poets are "not bound to be critics or to give a sense to what they had written,"[8]and he adds that "there must be a statute of limitations, or it would be quite a tyranny, if in an art which is the expression not of truth but of imagination and sentiment, one were obliged to stand an examination on the transient state of mind which cameupon one when homesick, or seasick, or in any other way sensitive or excited."
It is well to take a great poem like this without too much inquiry or analysis. If the author's intention is not evident in his poem, either he has failed to be clear, or he is consciously obscure, or we are incapable of appreciating his work. The first and second defects do not appear in "The Dream of Gerontius." The third, let us trust, does not exist in us. The notes, few in number, are intended to explain only what is not obvious.
In his "Recollections" Aubrey De Vere says: "'The Dream of Gerontius,' as Newman informed me, owed its preservation to an accident. He had written it on a sudden impulse, put it aside and forgotten it. The editor of a magazine"—it appeared inThe Month, of London, 1865, in two parts—"wrote to him asking for a contribution. He looked into all his pigeon-holes and found nothing theological; but, in answering his correspondent, he added that he had come upon some verses which, if, as editor, he cared to have, were at his command. The wise editor did care, and they were published at once."
R. H. Hutton, writing of Cardinal Newman, speaks in this way of "The Dream of Gerontius": "Before the Vatican disputes and shortly after the controversy with Canon Kingsley, Newman had written a poem of which he himself thought so little that it was, as I have heard, consigned or doomed to the waste-basket.... Some friend who had an eye for true poetry rescued it,and was the means, therefore, of preserving to the world one of the most unique and original poems of the present century, as well as that one of all of them which is, in every sense, the least in sympathy with the temper of the present century.... None of his writings engraves more vividly on his readers the significance of the intensely practical convictions which shaped his career. And especially it impresses on us one of the great secrets of his influence. For Newman has been a sign to this generation that unless there is a great deal of the loneliness of death in life, there can hardly be much of the higher equanimity of life in death. To my mind 'The Dream of Gerontius' is the poem of a man to whom the vision of the Christian revelation has at all times been more real, more potent to influence action, and more powerful to preoccupy the imagination than all worldly interests put together." (R. H. Hutton, "Cardinal Newman.")
The song of the soul in "The Dream of Gerontius" has sometimes been compared with "The Pillar of the Cloud"—a sacred lyric which is a household canticle wherever the English language is spoken. It is often misquoted, a fourth stanza having been added to it. This is the authorized version:
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead Thou me on!The night is dark, and I am far from home—Lead Thou me on!Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene—one step enough for me."I was not ever thus, nor prayed that ThouShouldst lead me on.I loved to choose my path, but nowLead Thou me on.I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,Pride ruled my will; remember not past years."So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it stillWill lead me on,O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent tillThe night is gone;And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead Thou me on!The night is dark, and I am far from home—Lead Thou me on!Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene—one step enough for me."I was not ever thus, nor prayed that ThouShouldst lead me on.I loved to choose my path, but nowLead Thou me on.I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,Pride ruled my will; remember not past years."So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it stillWill lead me on,O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent tillThe night is gone;And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloomLead Thou me on!The night is dark, and I am far from home—Lead Thou me on!Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to seeThe distant scene—one step enough for me."I was not ever thus, nor prayed that ThouShouldst lead me on.I loved to choose my path, but nowLead Thou me on.I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,Pride ruled my will; remember not past years.
"Lead, kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom
Lead Thou me on!
The night is dark, and I am far from home—
Lead Thou me on!
Keep Thou my feet; I do not ask to see
The distant scene—one step enough for me.
"I was not ever thus, nor prayed that Thou
Shouldst lead me on.
I loved to choose my path, but now
Lead Thou me on.
I loved the garish day, and, spite of fears,
Pride ruled my will; remember not past years.
"So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it stillWill lead me on,O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent tillThe night is gone;And with the morn those angel faces smileWhich I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
"So long Thy power hath blest me, sure it still
Will lead me on,
O'er moor and fen, o'er crag and torrent till
The night is gone;
And with the morn those angel faces smile
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile."
In the "Apologia Pro Vita Sua" Dr. Newman wrote: "We"—Mr. Hurrell Froude, brother of the historian James Anthony Froude, being the other person—"set out in December 1832. It was during this expedition that my verses which are in the 'Apostolica' were written—a few, indeed, before it, but not more than one or two of them after it. At Whitechurch, while waiting for the down mail to Falmouth, I wrote the verses about 'My Guardian Angel' which begin with these words:
"'Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend?'"
"'Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend?'"
"'Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend?'"
"'Are these the tracks of some unearthly friend?'"
It must be remembered that John Henry Newman had not yet entered the Catholic Church. It is strange that he should at this time have held the belief in a ministering spirit which is so marked in "The Dream of Gerontius."
In the sextette of this sonnet he says:
"Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I callThat vision real; for to the thoughtful mindThat walks with Him He half reveals His face;But when on earth-stained souls such tokens fall,These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace."
"Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I callThat vision real; for to the thoughtful mindThat walks with Him He half reveals His face;But when on earth-stained souls such tokens fall,These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace."
"Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I callThat vision real; for to the thoughtful mindThat walks with Him He half reveals His face;But when on earth-stained souls such tokens fall,These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace."
"Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I call
That vision real; for to the thoughtful mind
That walks with Him He half reveals His face;
But when on earth-stained souls such tokens fall,
These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,
Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace."
This vision, he says, "which haunted me,—the vision is more or less brought out in the whole series of compositions." "Gerontius" itself is more a "vision" than a "dream."
"The Pillar of the Cloud" was written in an orange-boat. "We were becalmed a whole week in the Straits of Bonifaccio. Then it was," he says in the "Apologia"—the finest model of modern English prose extant—"that I wrote 'Lead, Kindly Light,' which has since become well known. I was writing verses the whole time of my passage."
The "vision" of which he speaks he saw everywhere, and all his poems seem, in one way or other, to contain hints of the great poem to come; for there can be no doubt that "The Dream of Gerontius" is the culmination of his poetical moods. One cannot open any of his prose works without finding allusions to these eternal truths made so clear through the processes of the soul of a normal old man,—our young readers will please look up the derivation of Gerontius,[9]which is from the Greek,—but it is in his poems that we discover easilythe germs of his poetical masterpiece. Even in the poems he loved we note the constant dwelling on the main theme of "The Dream"—Eternity. In 1889 Cardinal Newman was very ill. During his convalescence he asked that Faber's "Eternal Years"[A]should be sung to him with musical accompaniment. He said that he would like to hear it when he came to die. It is a poem of sixteen stanzas, to be found in Faber's "Hymns." It begins:
"How shalt thou bear the cross that nowSo dread a weight appears?Keep quietly to God, and thinkUpon the eternal years.Austerity is little help,Although it sometimes cheers;Thine oil of gladness is the thoughtOf the eternal years."
"How shalt thou bear the cross that nowSo dread a weight appears?Keep quietly to God, and thinkUpon the eternal years.Austerity is little help,Although it sometimes cheers;Thine oil of gladness is the thoughtOf the eternal years."
"How shalt thou bear the cross that nowSo dread a weight appears?Keep quietly to God, and thinkUpon the eternal years.
"How shalt thou bear the cross that now
So dread a weight appears?
Keep quietly to God, and think
Upon the eternal years.
Austerity is little help,Although it sometimes cheers;Thine oil of gladness is the thoughtOf the eternal years."
Austerity is little help,
Although it sometimes cheers;
Thine oil of gladness is the thought
Of the eternal years."
"Novissima hora est!" Gerontius exclaims, "and I fain would sleep." He is thinking of the eternal hours and years in this last hour on earth.
At sea, in June, 1833, Newman had written some verses called "Hora Novissima":
"Whene'er goes forth Thy dread command,And my last hour is nigh,Lord, grant me in a Christian land,As I was born, to die."I pray not, Lord, that friends may be,Or kindred, standing by,—Choice blessing! which I leave to TheeTo grant me or deny."But let my falling limbs beneathMy Mother's smile recline,And prayers sustain my laboring breathFrom out her sacred shrine."And let the cross beside my bedIn its dread presence rest;And let the absolving words be saidTo ease a laden breast."Thou, Lord, where'er we lie, canst aid;But He who taught His ownTo live as one, will not upbraidThe dread to die alone."
"Whene'er goes forth Thy dread command,And my last hour is nigh,Lord, grant me in a Christian land,As I was born, to die."I pray not, Lord, that friends may be,Or kindred, standing by,—Choice blessing! which I leave to TheeTo grant me or deny."But let my falling limbs beneathMy Mother's smile recline,And prayers sustain my laboring breathFrom out her sacred shrine."And let the cross beside my bedIn its dread presence rest;And let the absolving words be saidTo ease a laden breast."Thou, Lord, where'er we lie, canst aid;But He who taught His ownTo live as one, will not upbraidThe dread to die alone."
"Whene'er goes forth Thy dread command,And my last hour is nigh,Lord, grant me in a Christian land,As I was born, to die.
"Whene'er goes forth Thy dread command,
And my last hour is nigh,
Lord, grant me in a Christian land,
As I was born, to die.
"I pray not, Lord, that friends may be,Or kindred, standing by,—Choice blessing! which I leave to TheeTo grant me or deny.
"I pray not, Lord, that friends may be,
Or kindred, standing by,—
Choice blessing! which I leave to Thee
To grant me or deny.
"But let my falling limbs beneathMy Mother's smile recline,And prayers sustain my laboring breathFrom out her sacred shrine.
"But let my falling limbs beneath
My Mother's smile recline,
And prayers sustain my laboring breath
From out her sacred shrine.
"And let the cross beside my bedIn its dread presence rest;And let the absolving words be saidTo ease a laden breast.
"And let the cross beside my bed
In its dread presence rest;
And let the absolving words be said
To ease a laden breast.
"Thou, Lord, where'er we lie, canst aid;But He who taught His ownTo live as one, will not upbraidThe dread to die alone."
"Thou, Lord, where'er we lie, canst aid;
But He who taught His own
To live as one, will not upbraid
The dread to die alone."
The death of Gerontius was Newman's ideal Christian death, and Gerontius does not die alone; he is upborne, refreshed by the prayers of his friends. Of Newman's sacred songs, "The Pillar of the Cloud" is, as we know, put first by some critics. And yet for musical diction, for sweetness and all the beauty of artistic technique, the song of the soul in "The Dream" equals if not surpasses it.
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep,There let me be,And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,Told out for me."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep,There let me be,And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,Told out for me."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep,There let me be,And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,Told out for me."
"Take me away, and in the lowest deep,
There let me be,
And there in hope the lone night-watches keep,
Told out for me."
In "Verses on Various Occasions" there is the picture of the resigned souls expecting the Blessed Vision. "Waiting for the Morning" was written at Oxford, 1835. It begins:
"They are at rest;We may not stir the heaven of their reposeWith loud-voiced grief, or passionate request,Or selfish plaints for thoseWho in the mountain grots of Eden lie,And hear the fourfold river as it passes by."
"They are at rest;We may not stir the heaven of their reposeWith loud-voiced grief, or passionate request,Or selfish plaints for thoseWho in the mountain grots of Eden lie,And hear the fourfold river as it passes by."
"They are at rest;We may not stir the heaven of their reposeWith loud-voiced grief, or passionate request,Or selfish plaints for thoseWho in the mountain grots of Eden lie,And hear the fourfold river as it passes by."
"They are at rest;
We may not stir the heaven of their repose
With loud-voiced grief, or passionate request,
Or selfish plaints for those
Who in the mountain grots of Eden lie,
And hear the fourfold river as it passes by."
By "Eden" Newman symbolized the paradise—the resting-place of souls—of the fourfold rivers. Here they patiently abide,
"And soothing soundsBlend with the neighboring waters as they glide;Posted along the haunted garden's boundsAngelic forms abide,Echoing as words of watch, o'er lawn and grove,The verses of that hymn which seraphs chant above."
"And soothing soundsBlend with the neighboring waters as they glide;Posted along the haunted garden's boundsAngelic forms abide,Echoing as words of watch, o'er lawn and grove,The verses of that hymn which seraphs chant above."
"And soothing soundsBlend with the neighboring waters as they glide;Posted along the haunted garden's boundsAngelic forms abide,Echoing as words of watch, o'er lawn and grove,The verses of that hymn which seraphs chant above."
"And soothing sounds
Blend with the neighboring waters as they glide;
Posted along the haunted garden's bounds
Angelic forms abide,
Echoing as words of watch, o'er lawn and grove,
The verses of that hymn which seraphs chant above."
The fulness of higher meditation and knowledge is in the triumphant song of the Soul, but "Waiting for the Morning" contains its suggestion, just as "The Lady of Shalott" by Lord Tennyson contains the germ of the exquisite "Elaine."
The dedication of "The Dream of Gerontius" reads, in English: "To the Most Beloved Brother, John Joseph Gordon, Priest of the Order of St. Philip de Neri, whose soul is in the Place of Refreshment.[10]All Souls' Day, 1865."
The Rev. John Joseph Gordon, of the Oratory, was very dear to Newman, and his death was a great blow
to him. But of all the Oratorians, the Cardinal especially loved Father Ambrose St. John, whose name he accentuates on the last page of the "Apologia." Father St. John, who was of the Gordon family, died in 1875, and Newman suffered what he held to be his saddest bereavement. Ambrose St. John had been with him at Littlemore. Writing to Mr. Dering of the death of Father Ambrose St. John, he said: "I never had so great a loss. He had been my life under God for twenty-two years." The dread of dying alone and the deep affection for friends—an affection that reaches the throne of God by prayer—tinge the whole structure of "The Dream." They are part of Newman himself.
Cardinal Newman died at Edgbaston Oratory, August 11, 1890; he was buried, at his own request, in the grave with Father Ambrose St. John. "'The Dream of Gerontius' was composed in great grief after the death of a dear friend."
A careful study of "The Dream of Gerontius" will show how musical it is, and how delicately the music of the verse changes with the themes. The form of poetry, as we know, approaches music. If a poem is not musical in expression, its metres fail of producing the effect they are intended to produce. So musical is "The Dream of Gerontius" and so capable of being treated by the musicians, that various composers suggested the making of an oratorio of it. Dr. Elgar has done it. "An Ursuline," inThe Catholic World, for June, 1903, says: "Dr. Elgar, when a child, sat Sunday afterSunday in the organ-loft of St. George's Roman Catholic Church, Worcester, England, where his father had been organist for the long period of thirty-seven years. Subtly the spirit of the grand old church music was instilled into the boy." Of "The Dream" Dr. Elgar said: "The poem has been soaking in my mind for at least eight years. All that time I had been gradually assimilating the thoughts of the author into my musical promptings." In 1889 a copy of the poem, with the markings made by General Gordon, was presented to Dr. Elgar as a wedding gift. The markings of the heroic and devout Gordon especially interested him. The reading of this little book helped to make Dr. Elgar's fame, which is based solely on his masterpiece, the oratorio performed in London on June 6, 1903, in Westminster Cathedral. Richard Strauss is looked on by musicians as the master of what is called "tone-color"—a perfect harmony between the tone of the instrument and the music arranged for it. But the German and English critics declare that in "The Dream of Gerontius" Dr. Elgar has surpassed Richard Strauss. "The Demons' Chorus," says ThePall Mall Gazette, "may be regarded as one of the last words of musical audacity." For the study of the music we suggest Dr. Jaeger's Analysis, printed by Novello in London and New York. Mr. Theodore Thomas, speaking of Dr. Elgar's "Dream of Gerontius," said that it is the most important oratorio of recent times, not excepting Brahms' Requiem. "'Gerontius,'" he added, "is alofty work, and, from a technical point of view, more masterly than Brahms ever dreamed of. It is by far the most important and satisfying modern work written for voices and orchestra."
It is understood that Cardinal Newman himself suggested that his poem should be set to music. The delicacy of his ear as to sounds is shown by the changes of the verse-music,—which is made up of accent, pause, and rhythm,—to fit the varying feeling of the work. If the student will scan the lines and reduce them to musical expression,—leaving out, of course, the quality of pitch, he can easily corroborate this.[B]
Jesu, Maria, I am near to death, And Thou art calling me.
This is in two-beat rhythm:[C]
The first syllable of "Jesu" is the anacrusis; the measure of the metre begins with the first accent. Whether this system of verse-notation or that of the usual scansion be followed, the meaning of the changing forms will be made plain. The system of verse-notation will be found more satisfactory in the metrical study of the poem. The second form of primary rhythm—that based on three beats in the measure—is effectively used. We find it in the Song of the Demons: