them a locus standi of their own, and puts them outside the pale of the ordinary laws of the rubrics.

Having now, to my own satisfaction at least, brought in a verdict in favour of shrines, I feel bound to add a rider. There is no evil in them that one can see, but they are not without an element of danger.

Some souls there are that love a dim religious light and never pray so well as when the evening shadows creep round the church, and the solitary lamp of the sanctuary hesitatingly cuts the darkness with its little fitful gleam. But most people feel a greater sense of comfort and a stronger inclination to pray in the presence of many lights. Children especially, whose habits of devotion are not yet formed, love to pray before the merry twinkle of the shrines. Then there is the additional fact that by lighting a candle one can pray by proxy, and thus economize labour and double convenience. These considerations make it fairly evident that a shrine is a more effective way of propagating and popularizing a devotion than even the printing-press.

Herein lies the danger. A sacred object in a church which has a shrine attached is a greater convenience and a greater centre of attraction than one that has none. Is it then unnatural that the tabernacle, with its dim solitary guardian light, should sometimes fade into insignificance and be forgotten, in presence of a statue with its brilliantly-lighted shrine? Is it heresy to assert that the absence of that abiding devotion to the Blessed Sacrament, which one ought to expect, is in some measure attributable to the lower devotions being more attractive? And if not, is it permissible to ask whether there is any law forbidding us to popularize by the same means the cardinal devotion of Christianity?

A great deal more may be said on these questions, but I feel I have already outrun the patience of my readers. It has been my purpose simply to direct attention, to open up a subject for thought and discussion. In what I have said I have spoken tentatively, knowing well that there are older and wiser heads than mine that could speak on

these questions with far greater authority, and with better success. I shall consider my aim accomplished if I tempt even one of them to come forward.

In any event it is about time that something were said, and something done. It is an age of criticism; for good or evil criticism which is bold enough to look us in the face even when we are standing within the sanctuary. The Catholic Church is the city built upon a hill, for all the world to look upon and enter, and the searchlight is nowadays being turned upon her with a vengeance. Not merely those without but those within as well consider it their duty to examine and to find fault. It is, therefore, expedient that we should put our house in order, and abolish or check any irregularity, which, though not very heinous in itself, may yet give a handle to our enemies: 'Let your light so shine before men that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father who is in heaven.'

I have not considered it either my office or my right to definitely allocate responsibility for the irregularities of devotion to which I have called attention. Possibly we might all find it salutary to examine our consciences in the matter. I cannot, however, resist the temptation to make one remark which seems to be very pertinent: in the order of grace as well as in the order of nature the child is father to the man. Not a few thoughtful minds trace the present apathy and indifference of educated French Catholics to the fact that the Catholic schools of France have not heeded the warning of Mgr. Dupanloup; they have failed to show their pupils the nobler side of Christianity, and belittled true religion by encouraging a multiplicity of puerile devotions and picturesque but archaic observances.'

D. DINNEEN.

R

LOUIS VEUILLOT1

ECENT events have made it clear that a crisis has come in the history of the French Church. Catholics throughout the world, and even earnest Protestants, await with anxious expectation the issue of the contest now knit to the death between the forces of religion and infidelity. Is the glory of France as the eldest daughter of the Church, and special protector of the Holy See, destined to fade before the united strength of Socialism and Freemasonry; or can we hope that with the overthrow of the present régime better days may be at hand?

To the question thus put it is not easy to find a satisfactory answer. No doubt we can refer to the past. We can point out that many times during the last century the storm raged as fiercely as it does to-day, and the cause of the Church looked equally hopeless, and yet these tempests passed over leaving France still faithful to the traditions of centuries. We have hardly any doubt that the same will be true of the present crisis, but our confidence should be greater were it not for one apparently slight defect. We miss the presence of some determined Catholic leader, able to appreciate the issues at stake, and able to rouse Catholic France in defence of her threatened institutions, a man like Montalembert or Veuillot who would place the interests of religion above every political or financial advantage, and who would not be ashamed to proclaim his attachment to it even at the tribune or the bar. We scrutinize the Catholic ranks to-day; we are not unmindful of the abilities, self-sacrifice and energy of men like the Count de Mun, Sangnier, Leon Harmel, Coppée, Brunetière, and a host of others equally distinguished, yet we look in vain for the leader we desire. What would we not give for even a year of Louis Veuillot at the helm of L'Univers,

'Louis Veuillot, par Eugene Veuillot. Paris: Victor Retaux, LibraireEditeur, Rue Bonaparte. 3 vols. 1903-1904.

Louis Veuillot. Etude morale et littéraire, par M. Cornut. Paris, 1890. Stimmen aus Maria Laach xxiv.

with the same bold, fighting, sledge-hammer, methods as he adopted in unison with the Catholic Party during the momentous struggle for free education. His manly, straightforward onslaught on the Bloc and all its principles and works would soon infuse new energy into the lifeless masses of French Catholics; men who to-day are afraid to defend the interests dear to their hearts, lest they should merit the reproach of being 'Clerical,' would shake off their cowardice and take their proper places in the fighting ranks; while statesmen like Combes and Jaurés would soon learn that they were face to face with a man able and willing to fight with whatever weapons they themselves might choose. We remember his courage, his zeal, his disinterestedness; we call to mind how he sacrificed his promotion and offers of reward that he might have a freer hand in the defence of the Church; and whatever we may say at times of his policy or his methods of controversy, yet give us such a man to-day as Veuillot in the Catholic ranks to rouse them, and such a paper as L'Univers to spread his views, and we confess that we should feel less nervous for the interests of religion.

Veuillot was in every sense of the word a man of the people. Born in 1813, of very humble parents, he experienced from his earliest day all the privations and sufferings of the labouring poor, for whom in after life he entertained the warmest sympathy, and whose support he knew how to win as only the son of a peasant could. While a child, his parents removed to Paris, but fortunately for our hero he was left behind at Boynes, with his grandparents, where he grew up breathing the pure air of the country, mixing with the innocent country children at the common school, and drinking in those lessons of natural virtue and of selfrestraint which, even in his most careless days, were never wholly forgotten. At school his quickness of temper was almost as remarkable as his keenness of intellect. His little companions even then learned to their cost that the young Veuillot could, and with provocation would, strike straight out from the shoulder. But with all that he was a general favourite with both pupils and teacher, the latter

of whom was known to declare that a great future lay before him.

When about thirteen years of age he rejoined his parents at Paris, where he soon secured a position as clerk in a solicitor's office. Here his fellow-clerks, for the greater part ex-graduates of colleges and sons of the wealthy bourgeoisie, were inclined at times to amuse themselves at the expense of this raw, untutored plebeian, but after a few preliminary experiences they had good reason to remember that Louis' tongue and fist were about equally dangerous. The lawyer in whose office he served was gifted with a turn for literature. His brother, Casimir Delavigne, author of some popular French plays, was then in the heyday of his glory. As a result the clerks were encouraged to admire the poetry of Casimir, and to show their admiration by imitating his example. Louis was no exception to the rule. He read everything that came in his way, tried his hand at dramatic criticism and poetry, and secured the encouragement of littérateurs like Henry Latouche and even Victor Hugo.

But journalism was the field towards which his inclinations drew him, and in which he was to take the very highest place. Fortunately for his future career, when he was about seventeen years of age, a friend offered him a place on a provincial paper at Rouen, and without much regret he abandoned his hopes of advancement at the Bar to enrol himself as art critic among the staff of L'Echo de la Seine Inférieure. As such his sarcastic, at times merciless, criticisms soon brought upon his head the insatiable wrath of the Rouen actors who, more than once, demanded an apology or satisfaction-the latter of which was always freely accorded. From Rouen he passed to Perigeux, where he became editor-in-chief of Le Mémorial de la Dordogne, a conservative paper supporting the government of Louis Philippe, and, like the other provincial papers of those days more or less under the inspiration of the Cabinet. Here he found plenty of time to pursue his studies without serious distractions.

At twenty-four he returned to Paris to take his place