I see thee in the evening glooms, Yet are my thoughts not always thus ; Dost only shroud and hoard awhile Such gifts of price, most sweet and bright, O shadowed form! O hidden face! Or at thy fated station ends Thou know'st what 't is thou bring'st to me, I know who 't is that sends. KILIMANDJAKC.* I. M. W. O. HAIL to thee, Monarch of African mountains! II. The years of the world are engraved on thy forehead; Time's morning blushed red on thy first-fallen snows; Yet lost in the wilderness, nameless, unnoted, * Kilimandjaro is the name of the great snowmountain discovered in Central Africa in 1850, by Dr. Krapf. It is in lat. 3° S., and is supposed by geographers to contain the sources of the White Nile. III. Floating alone on the flood of thy making, come They, the baptized and the crowned of ages, Filter the snows of their sacred dominions, From Fraser's Magazine. abundantly clear that their instructions are MANNERS AND MISERIES OF THE FRENCH sorely needed. Sydney Smith, girding at the CLERGY.* SOMEBODY has rather irreverently said of the Roman Breviary, that it must be vastly pleasant to have one's Prayer-Book and one's Arabian Nights all in the same volume. A like agreeable combination may be found in the Abbé Réaume's Guide du Jeune Prêtre. It is a mixture of Pastoral Care with Hints on Etiquette of George Herbert or Bishop Wilson with Lord Chesterfield. M. Dubois, too, although he does not profess to be a master of manners so distinctly as his brother abbé, finds it expedient to descend pretty often from lofty lessons of "ecclesiastical zeal" to the humbler details of behavior in society; and both the works which we have named at the beginning of our article throw a very curious light on the character and position of the class for whose instruction they are meant. The writers are sensible men, notwithstanding the strangeness of the stuff which circumstances have obliged them to indite. M. Dubois, a priest of five-and-twenty years' standing, and now an honorary canon of Coutances, has had large and various experience (p. 6); M. Réaume appears to have scen much of clerical life as it exists within the influence of the capital. They write for their brethren; M. Dubois expresses an expecta tion that his book will not find readers among the laity, even of his own communion (p. 7); and no doubt, when Fraser reaches Coutances and Mitry, both authors will wonder to find themselves so famous. The evidence of these little volumes, therefore, may be received as a faithful picture of the French priest equally unlike though it be to the bright ideal of Littlemore and to the monstrous imagina tions of Exeter Hall. The most surprising thing is, that it should be thought necessary to give at all such directions as those which compose a large part of the books before us; or, at least, to print them for the use of grown-up ecclesiastics. What a very superfluous person would any one be considered who should set himself to teach English clergymen personal cleanliness, or civility, or the Turveydropian science of Deportment," or how to eat or to give dinners, or how to write a letter, and how to fold and seal it! Yet all these matters are most solemnly treated by our abbés, and it is 66 2. Le Guide du Jeune Prêtre dans une Partie de sa Vie Privée et dans ses differents Rapports avec le Monde. Second Edition. Par M. l'Abbé A. Réaume, Curé de Mitry. Paris: Lecoffre. 1850. - that the educa English universities, in the character of an Edinburgh reviewer, says that our young lords and gentry are educated as if they were to be country curates. The reverse would have been a truer view of the mattertion of the English clergy in his day was very little different from that of the laity. Twenty years ago the special theological education of young men at Cambridge consisted in sitting twenty times, for three quarters of an hour at a time, while a very amiable-looking old gentleman read select passages from Pearson on the Creed, interspersing here and there some observations of his own. The professor read extremely well; but the Pearson was unheeded, because it could be read at home, and the good man's own additions were involved in the fate of the text. The defects of such a system are palpable enough, and we rejoice to know that at both the old universities, through the labors of an ample staff of active professors, and with the stimulus of new examinations, the theological students of the present day enjoy advantages unknown to their elders. But yet it must not be forgotten that there are dangers on the other side also. Where much is done for us, there is a temptation to do little for ourselves; the knowledge which is picked up from lectures and got up for examination is apt to be mere cram, without breadth, or depth, or substance. Now this appears to be very much the case with the education of the Romish clergy in general. They get up their text-books, with verses of Scripture, scraps from the fathers and later divines-all carefully twisted so as to favor the views of their church; but it is without any acquaintance with the spirit of the books from which the extracts are taken; and unless any argument into which they may be drawn take the particular line for which they have been prepared, they are in a condition much like that of Ducrow, the equestrian, when he declined an invitation to join a certain hunt, on the ground that "he never rode off his saw-dust."" This may be illustrated by a story which Dr. Wolff tells of an encounter with a Latin missionary in Syria. The two got into controversy, and the Protestant polemic soon became aware that his opponent was walking in the steps prescribed by some book with which he had himself been familiar while an inmate of a Roman Catholic seminary. So he humored the thing, and said precisely what was set down for the part of the heretic who was to be confuted. The other, with visible delight, pushed him with argument after argument from the part of the Catholic disputant; but when at last the heretic was supposed to be hopelessly pinned up in a corner, and the conqueror was rush-ing forward to give him the final blow, the doctor, instead of receiving it, burst into a loud laugh, and exclaimed," Ah, brother, I have read Father So-and-So, as well as you!" But, besides its defectiveness as a professional education, the training of French seminaries has the great defect of being merely professional. It affords nothing answering to the out-of-lecture influence which the life and intercourse of our own universities so beneficially exercise on their members. And unhappily, as we shall see hereafter, the French clergy are commonly taken from such a class of society that they bring nothing with them from home to supply this want, even in the smallest degree. The consequence is, that a young priest, when started in a parish, is in need of such instructions as those given by our authors, and of these we shall now produce some specimens. Cleanliness, according to the English proverb, is next to godliness; but M. Réaume feels himself obliged to give it precedence. First, he discusses the spirit of order in general, and then comes a chapter, De la Proprieté. Men of the world, he says, are generally clean, and, like a schoolboy in his theme, he illustrates by examples of the virtue and its opposite-Napoleon and Louis XIV. for good; slovenly Jean Jacques Rousseau for evil. Once on a time, indeed, filthiness was privileged to style itself humility, self-denial and contempt for earthly things; but now-adays nobody will look at it in any such light. Nothing more repulsive in this nineteenth century than an unkempt and nasty priest. Wherefore, my reverend young brother (is the burden of the abbé's exhortation), do you keep your hair in good order, neither too long nor too short; and superstitious as such care may seem comb and brush it every day (p. 12). Wash all such parts of your body as are exposed without a covering "all, I say, mark that; for what good would it do you to have clean hands, if your nails are dirty, as is very common; if your neck, your ears, or some part of your face, bear the marks of your negligence?" Whether the parts which are not exposed need ever make acquaintance with soap and water, our author does not inform us. Clean your teeth (continues the abbé); a soft brush, some bark, charcoal, and sugar, mixed in equal quantities, are all that you need, and these don't cost much. And, finally (to complete this subject by a direction given in another place), shave once in two days (p. 148). We pass over the directions as to study, only noting two matters connected with Eng Jish literature; first, that M. Réaume recommends Cobbet's History of the Reformation · a book which, we imagine, no English Romanist would venture to quote, but which is the standard authority on the subject among foreign Romanists; and, secondly, that he thinks it necessary to warn his readers against mistaking the Waverley novels for authentic history (p. 94). After this follow two chapters on politeness, which appears to be something less than universal among the modern French clergy; and then comes one, Du Maintien. "In general," says the Reverend Turveydrop, you ought to keep your body upright, your head straight, the eyes modestly cast down, and to look straight before you" (p. 133). But on the management of the eyes M. Dubois is more explicit : — 66 You must not throw your eyes this way and that way, with a curious and distracted air, nor if of the other sex. fix them on persons whom you meet, especially Ought they, then, to be kept downcast, in such a way as to be almost shut? No; that would seem affected. The wisest rule that can be given is, to look habitually towards the ground, but four or five steps in advance of you. If, from time to time, it should be thought proper to raise the eyes, you must then try to give them that expression of gentleness, goodness, candor, and modesty, which pleases everybody, because it is like the reflection of the serenity of a well-regulated mind. - pp. 32, 33. This is part of the abbe's directions for impressing a new parish with the notion that there is much more in the same style. It a "saintly priest" has fallen to its lot; and does not seem to have occurred to M. Dubois that it might be better to begin with the regulation of the mind, and to leave it to find its return to M. Réaume. own expression through the eyes. But we Hands, says he, are difficult things to mantions. When standing drop them by your age, and are very apt to get into odd posisides, or cross them in such a way that the right may support the left at the height of your belt. You may also cross your arms if you remain long standing. To put the hands behind your back is familiar; to thrust them into your cassock, on your stomach, is not over decent. Above all things avoid putting them into your pockets, holding them on your head, or continually carrying them to your face; neither must you rub them too vivaciously. Next, of sitting. "Our bourgeois manners," it seems, have now sanctioned the practice of crossing the legs, which was formerly proscribed; yet it may be well not to make too much use of the privilege acquired by so many revolutions. Don't lean too far *For instance, it is implicitly relied on by the Abbé Rohrbacher, in the lumbering and ignorant compilation which the ultra-montane party in France now regards as the Church-history-superseding excellent old Fleury. forward on a chair; for you may lose your | do well to be on your guard-you should for balance, and a capsize might raise a malicious the present seem not to have heard of it." laugh at your reverence's expense. When any one hands you anything, get up and make a slight bow. The use of the pocket-handkerchief is elaborately discussed; but we dare not venture into the details (pp. 134-5). The evils of excessive snuff-taking are then illustrated, somewhat after the manner of Law's Serious Call, by the misdeeds of a personage who is styled Salvian. Snuff, it appears, was formerly inadmissible in the pulpit, but now not even the altar-cloths are safe from it. Some incumbents, it appears (very much to the surprise of English clergymen, we should suppose), are apt to be jealous if their curates visit the parishioners. If the curate is seen even to enter a house, the senior cannot sleep for fear of parish mutinies, and all sorts of underminings and explosions. It appears to be taken for granted that in every parish there is a party eager to enlist the curate against his superior; and that the accession of the curate to such a league is not regarded as anything unnatural or unlikely. And then Chapter xxiii. treats of walking. On this there are personal jealousies. The incumbent subject M. Dubois, too, has much to say, and may not like to let his curate preach, for fear it is quite curious how entirely anxiety for the of being out-preached by him; and this the videri seems to thrust out all thoughts about curate will probably not relish. Whereas, the esse. Chapter xxiv. relates to dress; how says M. Dubois (p. 122), a well-conditioned to button the cassock; how much shirt-collar priest will rejoice in granting the humble and ought to be shown; what constitutes full-modest request of his subordinate, that he, dress, and what half-dress; whether trousers too, may, now and then be allowed to may or may not be worn; the casuistry of his head in the pulpit," and will even reboots, half-boots, and shoes; the size of hats, joice if he preaches effectively. Some incumand how to wear them; how to choose a bents, again, keep all the massing to themclerical stick, and how to carry it with cleri- selves. Sunday after Sunday, there they are cal propriety. at the altar; or, if not they, the substitute is not the curate, but a stranger (p. 123). The parish cannot but have its gossip about these things. The curate is disparaged; people get about him, and ask him why he bears such slights; and he, poor fellow, unless endued with more than usual discretion, will let out the secrets of the parsonage, and fall into the hands of the malcontent faction. We then enter on a new division of the work, which treats of the priest's relations to various sorts of people. First of these is the relation between incumbent and curate. But on this subject we pass to the fuller and more curious details which are given by M. Dubois, although how "ecclesiastical zeal" can be said to enter into such matters as those which we are about to mention is more than we are able to understand. In France, the curate is not chosen by the incumbent, but is appointed by the bishop; and this may sound very delightful to people who take the ideal view of ecclesiastical submission; but the working is anything rather than delightful. The incumbent feels that the curate is inflicted on him; and this is of itself enough to establish a jealousy, which is not held in check by any gentlemanly feeling on either side. As soon as the name of a new curate is heard, the incumbent tries to find out his previous history, and all that he hears is turned into matter of suspicion; so that, by the time the youth reaches the parsonage, the senior's face has gathered quite a wolfish expression. "But, my good friend," says M. Dubois, with his usual prudent morality, "you ought to look kind and civil, even if you have reason to feel otherwise. Perhaps it may not be true that in the last parish your curate got up a cabal against his superior. But, even if he did-although you will 66 wag But there is a yet worse misery than this - the jealousy as to confession. The young and tender curate may be preferred to the elderly, stiffened, high-and-dry incumbent; and this is gall and wormwood to an ill-conditioned priest. He peeps about, and tries by all manner of little vexations to annoy the popular youth. Sometimes he finds fault with his confessional morality; it is either too strict or too loose. A penitent whom the senior considered unfit for the sacrament is seen sneaking to the curate; and thereupon down falls a tempest - -a hail of biting epigrams, and even of severe reproaches." Then a close watch is kept to see which of the incumbent's penitents desert to the curate; and woful mischief may ensue, not only between the clerical pair, but to the burdened hearts which the senior will not allow to discharge themselves into the more sympathizing bosom of his assistant. There is a class-and by no means a small one-of priests, who are known as "curates' scourges. Whenever one of these worthies is in want of help, all the young clergy and candidates for ordination tremble lest they should be assigned to him; they go down on their knees to the bishop, or to the head of the seminary, entreating that they may not be made over to the ecclesiastical Legree. Other incumbents, again, are not brutal, but silent and ungenial, so that the poor curate never knows whether he is in favor or in disgrace. Or the incumbent will affect mystery, and keep the curate in the dark as to all that goes on; and the youth unless, as before, of extraordinary discretion -as he receives no confidence, will fish out what he can for himself, and publish it all over the parish. The jolly priest is another troublesome variety. He has a turn for dining out four or five days in the week, and, for the appearance of serious company, likes to take his curate with him. The senior is in rude health, can eat and drink without limit, and be never the worse; the junior is quiet, bookish, devout, finds a great dinner bad for his health, and yet worse for his prayers and his studies. What is to be done between such an ill-assorted couple? Then there are squabbles as to fees. The senior may be stingy - the junior, greedy; but the abbé, like a kind soul as he is, advises an incumbent - if he find that, after all charges, and after allowing a fair share for charity, he has a good round sum over at the year's end to give his ill-paid assistant a handsome present, rather than to put it all up in a bag. Apropos of that same bag, let us say a word on the subject of clerical avarice. Experience bears out the conclusion of common sense, that by cutting down the incomes of the clergy to a low rate, you will not do away with the temptation to secularity, but will only transfer it to a lower class of persons. Still, it might be supposed that the French clergy-being without wives or children to provide for, and coming from such a class that they cannot have any apprehension of seeing their near relations sink below their position in society-would not be likely to hoard up savings from their slender income. But Messieurs Réaume and Dubois prove that the case is far otherwise; their warnings against avarice are repeated with a frequency and earnestness which show that, in the absence of more reasonable motives for saving, the French clergy are too often possessed by the diseased love of mere accumulation, after the fashion of Dancer or Mathurin Carré. The only exceptions which we can admit are in favor of the incumbent's aged father or mother, if they should happen to live with him. But if the room in question be given to a more distant relation, especially if this relation be of no very distinguished condition, and unused to any great delicacy of treatment in respect of lodging, is not this to expose oneself to deserved reproaches on the part of the curate? &c., &c. As for the diet, it is painful to speak of such a thing; but, nevertheless, it is too true that there are some incumbents so parsimonious that they hardly allow their curates so much as is strictly necessary. Perhaps the curates may have been delicately brought up; perhaps they need some substantial articles of food for their support; their health may be weak, their stomach delicate - -no matter to the incumbents. Their cookery has always been what it is; never will they make the slightest change in it for the sake of any curate in Christendom. "These young priests," they will say, beyond all conception; they know mortification it comes to a question of practice. Why, after only in theory, and turn away their heads when all, shall the curate be harder to please than the incumbent ?" "Why?" retorts M. DuboisBecause this incumbent, by our supposition, is himself not so hard to please as he ought to be." 66 "are nice and sensual One word on the disgusting want of cleanliness which is sometimes to be noticed in the cookery of certain parsonages. Why entrust the preparation of the food to that person of threescore and more than ten? She does what she can, doubtless; but, unhappily, she cannot be clean. "But it is my mother it is my sister it is my old aunt !''' No matter; all these relatives are not in their place at least, as cooks. "But they still do their work well; I find no fault with their service." Perhaps not; but is your curate of the same mind? He is too virtuous to tell you; but if you knew the violence he does himself at every meal, and the strong desire which he feels to be connected with a superior who would not put him to so severe a trial, you would probably feel how grievous it is to make all your curates successively discontented, and for such a cause to check the operations of their zeal. — pp. 132–135. When there are two or more curates, the evil becomes complicated. If the priest give more of his society to one than to another, then jealousies spring up among the curates themselves, and all but the favored one bear a bitter grudge against their superior. (pp. 138, 139.) But the picture has another side: "Relations of the curate to the incumbent" (p. 140). The youth is supposed to have read the preceding chapter, and to triumph in the thought that the iniquities of his own particular incumbent have been put into black and white by the penetrating Dubois. a little, my young friend, cries the abbé; I have a word for you too. But as the purport Wait |