Images de page
PDF
ePub

other land, were inspired by Las Casas.

the Dominicans in San Domingo, St. Dominic's own isle, that awakened Las Casas to a sense of his duty, and it was the illustrious corps of great Dominicans in Spain fighting his battles at court that perhaps saved him from punishment.

United States. All the vast coast of South America was occupied and almost, On the contrary, it was the struggle of all the towns of to-day had been founded. Religion was flourishing. Great and really glorious bands of monks labored everywhere. Provinces of the various Orders were canonically established in all the different countries. In Colombia there were considerably over one hundred Dominicans alone, with convents in all the Spanish settlements, with one hundred and seventy chapels, missions and schools among the Indians. It was a remarkable age.

One priest and fellow laborer of St. Louis in those days is very worthy of notice. He was called Brother Denis of the Cross. Born in China, he had accompanied and labored with St. Francis Xavier and for years was his confessor. When the Apostle of the Indies died, his companion passed to Spain, whence he came to the kingdom of New Granada. Here he died at the age of over a hundred years, assisted in his last moments by St. Francis Xavier himself.

St. Louis Bertrand labored six years. in Colombia, and then returned to Spain. At first sight this seems almost like desertion. Why, when he saw what work was to be done among the Indians, did he return to Spain? In view of his penances, his holiness, it could not have been love of ease, or fear of death that caused him to return. The explanation is deeply interesting. It does not detract from St. Louis, and it covers with glory that noblest and staunchest of all the heroes that America has seen, Bartholomew de las Casas. Las Casas was, in his love for justice, a brother of Jesus. Washington, Lincoln, Bolivar and all the heroes of this hemisphere pale before this wonder of Christianity. Never did a hopeless cause have such an advocate, never did the true Americans have such a friend. It is sometimes thought that that the Dominicans, who proved such devoted friends of the Indians in Mexico, Peru, and in every

Las Casas, with the cold logic of the truly just, claimed that the only plea that justified the Spanish invasion of America was to preach the Gospel, and that all the gains of the Spaniards were unlawful and constituted robbery. He wrote books, solemn impeachments of the good name of his own race, recounting the awful wrongs committed by the Spaniards. But his cause was a forlorn one. The whole world world accepted accepted the conditions as unchangeable, and even the hierarchy had to accept as good the title of the Spaniards. It grieved Las Casas, though, to see a man of the highest sanctity tolerating the Spaniards who were wronging the natives. He wrote him, therefore, a strong and pleading letter in defense of the inviolable rights of the Indians. St. Louis received the letter, and having read it, felt guilty. He had no personal guilt, but the hopelessness of the situation discouraged him. The whole world, good and bad, concurred in the falseness. No one could improve conditions and yet they were unjust. The worry over this was what prepared St. Louis for the change in his life.

All

St. Louis' Province in Spain had never willingly permitted his departure. the time they had been importuning the Master General to recall him. In very truth, said they, there was as much need of his saintly zeal in Spain as among distant savages, and so at last the head of the Order sent a command to Brother Louis to return.

The message came in a very strange manner. He was making his way to Bogota, away in the interior, to work among the savages there. Even to-day

from Carthagena on the sea to the mountain capital is a week's trip. The journey was a hard one. Once the canoe upset, and though all were saved the heroic travellers lost their goods. Where the river Nare meets the Magdalena, the party halted for repose. While here another canoe from the north came up with them, and to the surprise of all it was found to be the bark of a messenger with a letter to St. Louis, ordering him back to Spain. The saint could but return. Changing canoes, he turned down stream, and bade good-bye to the surroundings amid which he had won so many unfading laurels.

His life in Spain need not detain us here. He continued most of the time as novice-master. Preachers and mission

aries are necessary, and, directly, do more good, but the task of those who form them is oftentimes harder. St. Louis was a type of a true novice-master, a parent. He was of a mild and gentle disposition, yet in his rulings he was strict and severe. But above all he had the quality needed in every one set up over others, that his life was the book from which others could learn best how to live.

St. Louis Bertrand died on October 9, 1581. He is the peer of all the apostles who have labored in America. That he remain comparatively unknown matters little. His work was of God, and the result of his labors will go on in the descendants of his converts for all time.

A

A Mother's Farewell

By JOSEPH TERENCE JUDGE

Adapted from the French of Pierre l'Ermite

LARGE evening party is be

ing given at the Chateau. The windows are all ablaze. Inside,

nearly all the guests are assembled and at seven dinner is announced.

The dining-room is brilliantly illuminated. The table is long and sumptuously laid. On the snow-white cloth glitter decanters, tumblers, wine and liqueur glasses of finest crystal. Here and there, in the centre of the table, flowers are tastefully arranged in silver stands, filling the room with their delightful odor. From the middle of the ceiling directly over the table is suspended a glass chandelier, the vari-colored electric lamps of which, throwing a brilliant light on the table and guests, exhibit

light

everything to the best advantage; the jewels and diamonds of the ladies; their elegant robes; the beautiful chased epergnes and the costly plate, which has accumulated in the course of several generations.

Through the partly-open windows a view of the park with its shimmering lake is obtainable and the cool evening air is heavily laden with the sweet breath of late blooming flowers. Smart waiters show the guests their respective places and all take their seats.

Madame de Valere presides and close to her are her two charming daughters, Angele and Madeline. The Prefect is placed beside Miss Angele and the hostess requests Monsieur le Depute to sit beside herself, explaining, "We can then talk over the evils of the present government, that is, of course, if you

[ocr errors]

have no objection to speak on such a subject."

"On the contrary, madame, it will give me great pleasure."

After a few trivial remarks on various topics of the hour, they joined in the general conversation, which had turned upon dangerous exploits and adventures. The Prefect spoke of a very narrow escape he once had had in the hunting-field. He described it vividly and in detail, so vividly, in fact, that Miss Angele shuddered and exclaimed, when he had finished:

"Oh! how horrible! I really believe you must be possessed of as many lives. as a cat, monsieur."

"As you say, Miss Angela, that was a very remarkable escape," remarked the deputy; "and it reminds me of another. When I was shooting big game in Africa, I had an escape which I regard as being miraculous. I was on an elephant going through the jungle when a tiger suddenly sprang upon the animal and almost succeeded in climbing into the howdah. I cannot exactly explain it, but I suppose my gun must have gone off by accident, the bullet entering the tiger's head and killing it instantly. Probably my finger tightened on the trigger owing to the shock."

Just at this juncture a waiter stepped behind madam and whispered to her that a telegram had come for Monsieur le Depute.

"Then give it to him," she replied. "With your kind permission, madame?" said the deputy when the "petit bleu" was handed to him.

"Certainly, monsieur."

No sooner had he torn it open and glanced at it than his face became ghastly white. "My mother," he murmured, "has become worse."

Words of consolation were whispered from all sides. He arose immediately and prepared to leave. The hostess accompanied her guest to the door, and shaking hands with him, bade him to be

[blocks in formation]

The clock has just struck three. The room is very dark. The lamp is shaded. On the bed lies an old woman in terrible agony. A young man in evening dress has just entered the room and approached the bed; on his face is depicted great sorrow. The woman speaks.

"Do not tell me it is nothing, my child, and that it will soon pass away. I am dying, I know very well. I only ask for one thing-send for a priest and quickly quickly, you understand.

It

is not quite in harmony with your ideas, but-"

"Mother," he interrupts, "I would consider myself as the most miserable among wretches, the most ungrateful of sons, were I to refuse you such a request. Not only shall you have a priest, but I myself will go for him. Which of them do you prefer?"

"For the past six months, thanks to those infernal plotters, there has been but one in this neighborhood, the Cure of Remille, a very good and pious young man, who will come immediately you tell him what you want. Be off at once, and go quickly. I feel that I am sinking fast. I hope you will be in time. God spare me till you return."

[blocks in formation]

The deputy went straight to the stable, harnessed the pony to the phaeton and in a few minutes was on the road driving furiously towards Remille.

It was only a league and a half to the priest's house and that is nothing for a pony. This one, however, had been out on a long journey during the day, consequently it was now rather tired and made but sorry progress. The driver applied his whip, an instrument to which he but rarely had recourse, gently at first, be it said, and then more vigorously and more cruelly.

The cocks were beginning to crow

when the pony's hoofs rattled over the stony street of Remille. The presbytery was to the left of the church, a little way up the street. Of course in his mad race he went to the right-hand side of the church and hunted about for the house for a little time.

At last he reached the presbytery door. The pony was white with foam. The words uttered by his mother, "I hope you will be in time," were ringing in his ears.

Where was the bell? In the darkness he could not distinguish anything. If he only had some matches with him! But of course he had none. He was dreadfully impatient, for he was afraid of being late, so he knocked desperately with the carved ivory handle of his whip and waited.

[blocks in formation]

He

Still he waited, but no response! Then he became mad with rage. "Oh! these priests," he exclaimed, "they are lazy dogs; they will not be disturbed at night. All the people in the parish might be dying and it would not prevent them sleeping. But I will waken you," he shouted, "and you shall come with me even if I have to drag you." He broke his whip with the banging, for which he hurled an extra few epithets at priests in general and in particular at the one he was now seeking. The whip was broken, but then he had the key of the trap. He took it out to use it on the door and just then discovered the bell. A strong, impatient pull and a loud ringing echoed through the house, setting dogs in the neighborhood barking

furiously. A window was thrown open behind him on the other side of the road and a head thrust out.

"What in heaven's name are you making such a noise about?"

"The priest lives here does he not?" said the knocker, turning round. "Yes, that is his house."

"Then, why does he not answer?" shouted the deputy, in a voice that was trembling with rage.

"But how can he answer when he is not there? He is at the caserne doing his twenty-eight days' military service." And the speaker being already very impatient and much annoyed, for it was the third time that week he had been disturbed in like manner, withdrew his head and shut the window with a bang.

"Doing his twenty-eight days in the caserne," murmured the deputy, stupefied, “yes, doing his twenty-eight days!"

When he reached home alone, his mother was just bidding adieu to this world, fully conscious to the end. Hearing the door open and her son's step coming up the stairs, she raised herself slightly on the pillow.

"The priest is coming?" she asked in a tone of inexpressible agony.

"No, dearest mother, he is not there." "He is not at home; then where is he?"

The unfortunate man turned away without replying. How could he tell her where the priest was? Had not he himself voted for this very law? Was he not in a measure responsible for the priest's absence? And how many had died, as his mother would die, without this last consolation-and he to blame for it?

He turned partly round again, and as he did So, a look of terrible

*N. B.-Priests and students who have already served the regular period of military service are afterwards called upon to do an extra twenty-eight days and two periods of fourteen days. An interval elapses, of course, between each of these extra services.

[blocks in formation]

The dearest Voice on earth to me
Is one that whispers low,
"My child, I died upon the Cross,
Because I loved thee so."

Yet nearer, dearer, clearer still,
With every lapsing year,

When, through the gleam of angel wings, The music of that Voice, I pray,

His glorious Face I see;

Then, Lord, my soul in pity save,
And bear it safe across the grave;
And let Thy Blood-drops plead for me,
O sweetest Prince of Charity.

May steal upon my ear:

Then, Lord, my heart in pity take
To rest in Thine, before it break,
My weary heart in pity see,
O sweetest Prince of Charity.

The fairest Face on earth to me

Is one by sorrow worn,

The eyes are veiled by blinding tears,
The brows are pierced by thorn;
Yet earth hath nothing half so sweet
As here to share His pain:—
Ineffable that joy of joys,

With Him on high to reign!

Then bend, dear Face, bend close to mine,

That, gazing, it may grow like Thine.

O grace of grace, to grow like Thee,

Thou sweetest Prince of Charity!

« PrécédentContinuer »