The Life Of Fr John Gerard S.J. (A Hunted Priest) Part 38.

Fr Garnet

FATHER GARNET'S STRAW.

I. A fuller account of Father Garnet's straw is given by Father Gerard in his history of the Powder Plot. 1 "The first sign," he there says, " by which it pleased God to show the merit and glory of this His martyr was concerning his relics, which were eagerly sought for by many Catholics at the very time of his martyrdom. Amongst which there was one young man [John Wilkinson] who stood by the block where the martyr's body was cut up, with great desire at least to get some drop of his holy blood. And whilst he had these thoughts, not daring to take where he desired for fear of being espied, it fortuned that the hangman having cut off the martyr's head and showed it to the people (as the custom is), he cast it into a basket standing there of purpose, full of straw, to hold the head and quarters when they were divided. Out of this basket did leap a straw or ear void of corn in strange manner into the hand of this young man, which he beholding and seeing some blood on it, kept it with great care, and no little joy that he had obtained his desire. He carried it away safely and delivered it unto a Catholic gentlewoman of his acquaintance [Mrs. Griffin], who kept it in a reliquary with great devotion; and after three or four days [two or three months interlined in orig. MS.], a devout Catholic gentleman coming thither, she showed him the bloody straw, which he was also glad to see and reverence; but beholding the same more curiously than the others had done, he saw a perfect face, as if it had been painted, upon one of the husks of the empty ear, and showed the same unto the company, which they did plainly behold, and with no small wonder, but. with much greater joy did acknowledge the mighty hand of God, Who can and doth often use the meanest creatures to set forth His glory, and is able both out of stones and straws to raise a sufficient defence for His faithful servants.

"They put up the straw again with great admiration, and kept it now with much more reverence and devotion than before. This was quickly published to many of the chiefest Catholics about London, who much desiring to see this wonder, it was carried unto divers, who are all witnesses of this truth. At length it came to the Council's ear, and some of them desiring much to see it, it was granted, being now in the keeping of a great person, 2 but with promise to have it safely restored; so that some of them did see it, and did much admire it, affirming that it must needs be more than natural. Others after desired to see it and to seize upon it, because now the fame did grow so great of this image of Father Garnet drawn by the hand of God, whose image and memory they sought to deface in all they could, that they feared the evidence of the miracle would plead against their proceedings and prove him innocent whom they had punished as guilty. Therefore the Bishop of Canterbury [Archbishop Richard Bancroft] sought to have the miraculous straw into his hands, but it was denied, and none would acknowledge where it was to be found. He learned out the party to whom the keeping of it was first committed, and sent for her husband, who was a known Catholic and a virtuous man. He examined him strictly how it came to pass, and where the straw was. The Catholic affirmed the truth of the thing and described it unto him in words; but said it was not now in his keeping, and he knew not where to find it. And when they could get no other answer of him, they committed him to prison; but afterwards, having sundry and great friends in the Court, he got out upon bonds to appear again at certain days' warning.

" In the meantime it happened that two were miraculously cured by application of the same straw. One was a gentlewoman in great peril of her life by danger of childbirth, who, when she had sustained long and painful travail and could not be delivered of her burthen, and now was out of hope of life, unless she might obtain some help from God, some of her friends made earnest means to get this holy straw to bring unto her; which being obtained, and the straw brought and applied with great reverence, presently she received help, and was delivered by the mighty hand of God and merits of the martyr, whom no midwife's skill or endeavour could help before.

"Another was the gentlewoman herself who first had this miraculous relic delivered her to keep. For she being very much subject to sickness, and sometimes in such extremity therewith that you would not think she could be able to live an hour, it happened that in one of her extremest fits, when she could find no medicine or means that could bring her any ease, she earnestly desired a special friend to make suit for the straw to be returned unto her for a small time, which was granted; and as soon as it came (she receiving it with great devotion and reverence) she presently found ease, and within half an hour was so perfectly well that she rose from her bed, and went to entertain some strangers that then were in the house, and erat una ex discumbentibus —['was one of them that were at table.' St. John xii. 2].

" This sudden and strange cure of hers being spoken of by divers Catholics, it came out to be known unto the Council, who sent again for the husband of the gentlewoman, and took this new occasion to commit him the second time to prison.

"The Council afterwards understanding that this miraculous picture in the straw had been shown to divers painters in London, they sent for the painters and willed them to make the like portrait to that which they had seen in a like empty ear of corn; but they all answered that it was not possible for them to do it, neither could the draught of that face, in so little a room and so loose a groundwork as that empty ear, be otherwise drawn than by supernatural power. And this testimony they gave of it that had both skill to judge and no will to favour the Catholic cause (being in opinion heretics), but only convinced in their understanding by the evidence of the miracle."

II. The Archbishop of Canterbury [Bancroft] to the Lord Chief Justice [Sir John Popham] on the apprehension of Barret [Barnes] and the miracle of Garnet's straw: from the original letter in the Archives of the See of Westminster, vol. viii. p. 41.

" My Lord, I gave a warrant to Mr. Skidmore for the apprehending of one Barret, who went up and down with a miracle of Garnet's head supposed to be upon a straw that was on the hurdle whereupon he was drawn to his execution. This warrant was signed with my Lord Chancellor's hand, my Lord Treasurer's, my Lord of London and mine. Upon the serving of the warrant, the said Barret drew his rapier and hath hurt Skidmore, and is likewise thrust through the thigh by*him. This Barret is at a barber's shop in Fleet street not far from the Temple gate. I heartily pray your lordship to send for the stay of him that he may be forthcoming. He is a notable villain. And so I commit your lordship to God. At Lambeth, this 25th day of November 1606.

Your lordship's most assured,

                                                    R. Cant. 

" To-morrow I will acquaint you with some other particulars." Addressed " To the Right Honourable the Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench, one of his Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council."

     Endorsed 3 "The dispersers, Griffin's wife, Mrs. Anne Vaux, sent to her by a gentleman, Mrs. Gage of Bentley."

III. Robert Barnes' examination, from a contemporary copy in the same authority, p. 43.

"The examination of Robert Barnes of Harleton in the County of Cambridge gent, taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury the 27th of November 1606.

" He saith that about the 13th of November, being Thursday, he went to Hugh Griffin's, a tailor, to see if his, this examinate% gown were made: that until that very time he had never heard of the wheat ear whereupon a visage is supposed to be seen : that Griffin's wife was the first who then told him of it: that she said there was a straw besmeared with Garnet's blood at his execution which had upon it the form of a face : that it was a very strange thing, but was not then at home with her: that she promised him when he came again, to show it him : that accordingly, he going unto her two days after, viz. upon the Saturday, she showed it
him : that he, this examinate, looking upon it through the crystal, first saw a white thing: that she bade him look wistly upon it, and that then he imagined he saw two eyes closed, then a face pale, as he thought: after, a short chin: then a forehead somewhat high: then a perfect face: that he, being of the age of 56, and having endured 10 years' imprisonment, hath a dim sight: that he saw the said face through the crystal and his spectacles by candlelight: that he espied the face, as is before mentioned, within the time that a man would go 40 steps : that after he had discerned the face, he saw (as he thought) two locks of hair standing upright in the midst of the top of the forehead: that having so seen it, he only said to Mrs. Griffin that it was a strange and wonderful sight, and that he hath not told any of it but one or two in Poules [St. Paul's] whose names he remembereth not, and that he told them he made no great account of it: that he maketh no great account of it, because it may be drawn by the art of some painter: that the colour of the cheeks differed from the colour of the eyebrows, and that the parts of the face were distinguished from one another, as it were, with the draught of some hair or of some very small thing, and that the beard was somewhat reddish: that he saw not Garnet for the space of 20 years past, before he came through Cheapside upon the hurdle : that his beard was then whitish, but had been in colour betwixt yellow and red.

" Being demanded why he hath not since that time laboured to satisfy himself whether the said face were made by art or by some extraordinary means, he saith that his business hath been such, as he hath had no time to think of it.

" Being demanded why he did not ask Mrs. Griffin whether it were a face indeed made by art or otherwise, he saith that he made so small account of it, as he asked her no questions about it.

"Thirdly, being demanded how his words concerning the small account he made of it, can agree with his former speeches, where he said it was a very strange and wonderful thing, he answereth that though it were made with art, it is strange and wonderful in his opinion to have so perfect a face made in so little a room."

    Endorsed "The copy of the Examination of Robert Barnes taken before the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury 27 0 Novem. 1606."

IV. Francis Bowen's examination. Ibid. p. 47.

" The examination of Francis Bowen of London gent, but useth limning, 4 taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury on the 27th of November 1606.

" He saith that betwixt three weeks and a fortnight since one Anser servant to Sir William Wiseman 5 of Essex told this examinate that he had seen an ear of corn with a face upon it, and said that if he, this examinate, would, he could bring him where he might see it: that accordingly he brought this examinate to a house in Clerkenwell where Mrs. Anne Vaux was, and one Mr. Dolman who hath a knight to his brother: 6 that when Anser and this examinate came into the house, the said Dolman and Mrs. Anne Vaux were looking upon the ear, being in a crystal: that upon the said Anser's motion they let him, this examinate, see it: that Mr. Dolman bade this examinate look whether he could espie the face : that he espied it in the while that the Ave Maria may be repeated : that upon his espying of it, he perceived it to be a perfect face : that the proportion of the face was in the blade that lay upon the husk of a corn, the corn being out, or rather, the blood made the proportion of the face: that upon the top of his forehead stood up certain hairs: that the forehead was something high, and had as it were two wrinkles overthwart it: that there was then a little stroke went down resembling a nose : the mouth was not well discerned because the hair of the upper lip did hang over it: the beard seemed to be somewhat long and bloody: that the compass of the face seemed to be, either the extremity of the husk, or else some little brown blackish small strokes which he conceived to be of blood congealed of that colour: that the hair above the forehead seemed to be likewise little streaks of blood, and so were the two wrinkles, the two little strokes for the eyebrows, the stroke that was made down for the nose, two small streaks resembling the eyes, and the hairs of the beard were like the hairs on the top of the forehead, saving that they were (as is aforesaid) somewhat more of the colour of blood : that there was no more to be seen but the head, as neither the arms, shoulders nor neck : that the face was much like to this in the margent, 7 saving that it was drawn in a better proportion: that all the rest of the face, saving the said streaks, was the husk itself: that he verily thinketh the face upon the ear which he saw in the glass, might have been made as skilfully or more skilfully by a cunning workman : that he verily believeth if the said straw came first into a dishonest man's hand, the face upon the ear might have been counterfeited : that he first heard of the said face about a week before he saw it, but remembereth not by whom : that before he saw it and since he hath heard many Catholics talk of it, and some of them to affirm that the face was like to Garnet's : that one Mr. Martin who taught the children upon the virginals that played in the Blackfriars did ask this examinate whether it were not like Garnet's face."

    Endorsed " The copy of the examination of Francis Bowen, taken before the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury 27 0 Nov. 1606."

V. Hugh Griffin's first examination, from a contemporary copy in the Archives of the Old Chapter.

"The confession of Hugh Griffin, of St. Clement's without Temple Bar, tailor:—taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, November 27, 1606. 

He saith that the same day that Garnet was executed [May 3, 1606], one John Wilks [sic], a silkman, being come out of his prenticeship two years since, and living now amongst his friends in Yorkshire, brought to this examinate's house a straw with an ear upon it, which he said was one of the straws whereupon Garnet was laid when he was executed; that the straw and ear were bloody; that this examinate and his wife desired to have the straw; that he promised they should have it at his going into the country; that they advised with the said Wilks to have the straw put into a crystal for the better preserving of it; that within three or four days or a week (as he remembereth) the straw was set in crystal, according to the former resolution; that about nine weeks since [about the 25th of September] and not before, he, this examinate, looking earnestly through the crystal upon the said straw, with his wife, and one Thomas (who once served, as he thinketh, the Lady Beeston, wife to Sir Hugh Beeston) they all together at once discovered a thing like a face upon the ear of the said straw; that this examinate did first say to the other two (as he thinketh), ' Do you not discern a thing upon the ear like a face?' and they answered that they did; that thereupon he then (as he thinketh) opened the crystal, and then, upon their earnest looking upon it, they imagined they saw a face; that this examinate thereupon said to the rest, ' This may chance to proceed from our fancies,' and therefore desired them to make no words of it until it were better decided; that he kept it in his house about a fortnight, and in the meantime looked upon it forty times (as he thinketh) and sometimes half an hour or an hour together, until he saw the visage so perfectly as he is sure he could not be deceived; that the face is so perfectly apparent, being once found, viz. the forehead, the eyes, the cheek, the nose, the mouth, the beard, and the neck, as he supposeth no man living is able to draw the like thing upon the like subject; that the said Wilks, when he left the straw in the crystal with this examinate, did not (as he thinketh) ever imagine that there was any face upon it; that he doth not remember that any but himself and his wife did see the said face during the said fortnight, or that himself did acquaint any with it; that peradventure his wife might tell somebody of it, but whom he knoweth not, that after the said fortnight ended, when he was assured as aforesaid, he showed it to Lord William Howard; 8 that Dr. Taylor being present (as he remembereth) desired to have had it, to have been showed to the Ambassador of Spain; that the Lord William kept the said straw, and showed it to such as he thought fit; that about ten days after, this examinate received it again from the said Lord William; that he thereupon delivered it unto Dr. Taylor, in the hope of some good reward to be given unto him; that he delivered it as he did never expect to have it again, except it were to borrow it, with the Ambassador's liking, to show it to some of his friends that would desire to see it; that his lordship kept it some two or three days; that he, this examinate, received it again and showed it to some, but he doth not remember to whom; that he delivered it back again to Dr. Taylor within a day or two after he had received it from the Lord William; that Dr. Taylor told him how the Lord Ambassador made great account of it, had sent it to be seen by the Ambassador of Venice, and that he was very loth to part with it; that he delivered the said straw to Dr. Taylor, as aforesaid; that the Lord William first had it for about five days before he, this examinate, gave it to Dr. Taylor as aforesaid; that this examinate did show it to Mrs. Anne Vaux, when he had it from the Lord William and before he returned it back again to Dr. Taylor after he had borrowed it; that this examinate lent it at that time to the said Mrs. Anne Vaux; that she had it with her a day and a half or two days; that he supposeth she showed it unto divers; that this examinate was much troubled before he could get it again from Mrs. Anne Vaux; that if any affirm that there is any light or beams about the said face, he affirmeth that which is not true; that for aught this examinate knoweth, the said face is no more like Garnet's face than any other man's that hath a beard; that he imagineth, the face being so little, no man is able to say it is like Garnet; that this examinate never did see Mr. Garnet but when he was brought to the Tower; that he remembereth that Mr. Garnet was a well-set man, and had a big face, according to his proportion ; that though the face seem but little at the first view, yet upon diligent looking upon it, it seemeth still to increase in perfectness and to be bigger, but that when it is perfectly discerned with the eye, it continueth in one and the same bigness; that he verily thinketh, except one be told in which husk the face is, he will very hardly find it; that all the said perfect visage, to be seen as is aforesaid, is contained in the length and breadth of the husk of one corn. He also saith upon occasion of further speech that the crystal wherein the straw is set was his own before, and that he gave it to the said Wilks that the straw might be put into it, and took order with him that the crystal should be set in gold or silver and gilt; that it is about the breadth of a shilling, but made in the form of a heart; that it is about a quarter of an inch thick; that the straw is nipped off, and the whole ear lieth round in it."

VI. Hugh Griffin's second examination, from the Archives of Westminster, vol. viii. p. 51.

" The second examination of Hugh Griffin of St. Clement's without Temple Bar, tailor, taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury 27 Novemb. 1606.

" He saith that within 8 or 10 days of Garnet's death the ear wherein the face is seen was put in crystal, which must fall out to be about the eleventh or twelfth of May : that about Midsummer John Wilks went into Yorkshire, returned a little before Michaelmas, and went back again into Yorkshire about a week after Michaelmas : that about 8 or 10 weeks since, he first discerned the face in the said ear: that from about the nth or 12th of May he had the said crystal and ear in his house, before he espied the said visage till about the 18th of September, which was 19 weeks : that all this time of 19 weeks he never looked upon the said crystal: that before the said 19 weeks ended, he had no time to look upon it: that when he first looked upon it about 10 weeks since, he saw a glimmering of a face.

" He saith that when the crystal with the ear was first brought unto him by Wilks, he looked upon it, but did not then espy any visage : that he looked a good while earnestly upon it about 10 weeks since, before he saw the glimmering of a face. And being demanded why he viewed the same longer and more earnestly at this time than he did when it was first brought unto him in the said crystal, he answereth, because he had not leisure when it first was brought unto him, so to view it.

" Being demanded how it came to pass that he never looked upon it for the space of the said 19 weeks, but when his wife and one Thomas were present, he answereth that then he was best at leisure.

" That he thinketh it was never seen, after it was brought unto him first in crystal, until about the 10 weeks before mentioned."

    Endorsed " Copy of the second examination of Hugh Griffin, 27  Nov. 1606."

VII. Hugh Griffin's third examination: ibid. p. 55.

" The examination of Hugh Griffith [sic] taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury 3 December [sic] 1606.

" He saith that it was a month or 5 weeks after Michaelmas when he saw John Wilkinson [sic] last: that he so thinketh because he used the said John his advice in letting a house of Mr. Preston's to the Count Arundell about the first wee[k] as he thinketh after Michaelmas: that the said John h[as] a brother dwelling at the upper end of Cheapside: that [about] 8 days since the said John's mother sent a letter to this examinate] signifying unto him that she heard her son wa[s gone] beyond seas, and desiring of him, this examinate, that if he [were] not gone, he would stay him : that it was not John his said brother who brought the said letter but one out of the country: that he knew not of his going beyond seas, if he be gone, nor did ever advise him thereunto.

"Being demanded where the said Thomas is to be found, whom he mentioned in his first examination, he desireth to be foreborne therein, for that being a Catholic he would not bring him into trouble : that he did not see the said Thomas since about 10 days past, as he remembereth.

"Being demanded unto how many he had lent the crystal with the straw, besides the Lord William, and Mrs. Anne Vaux, he desireth to be foreborne, for that he had received blame for that he hath done already : that it might be that the said John did see the face in the crystal, having lain for the most part seven weeks at this examinate's house at his last being at London.

" Being demanded unto whom he imparted the effect of his confession before the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury at his first examination, he desireth to be foreborne the answering of it; only he saith that he thinketh he told the Lord Chief Justice's man somewhat of it.

"He further saith that he mistook something in his first examination which now he amendeth, saying that John Wilkinson bringing the straw from Garnet's execution, this examinate willed his wife that it might be put into something, for else it would moulde[r] away : that thereupon the same day the said John and this examinate's wife did put it into a little vase of crystal, which his wife had ready made, and that for aught he knoweth it was so laid up and not seen for 19 weeks after: that he knoweth not whether he lent the glass with the straw unto the said John Wilkinson or unto this said Thomas."

    Endorsed " Copy of . . . examination . . . December."

VIII. Thomas Laithwaite's examination : ibid. p. 59.

"The second 9 examination of Thomas Laithwaite, servant to the Lady Katharine Gray, taken by the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury 3 December 1606.

" He saith that Hugh Griffith. did not send for him upon the Friday morning after he had been first examined before the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury, which was the Tuesday before, viz. on the 27th of November: that no person man or woman came unto him in Hugh Griffith's name for his, this examinate's, repair unto him : that nobody was present when the said Hugh Griffith told him what he had confessed : that what he told him was in Griffith's shop: that he received the crystal with the straw from Griffith about Sunday was a fortnight: that he received it upon one day and brought it back to Griffith the day following : that whilst he had it. he showed it to Sir Hugh Beeston 10 and one Mr. Fortescue : that he re-delivered the said crystal with the straw to Griffith in his chamber, nobody being present: that he never borrowed nor had the said straw from Griffith but once as aforesaid : that the Lady Katharine Gray had seen the said straw, but by whose means he knoweth not; but afterwards he said, he knoweth not whether ever she saw it or no, nor whether he hath ever hear[d] her acknowledge that she saw it: that he will not tell anything that may bring others in trouble, though it cost him his life.

" He further saith that he knoweth Dr. Taylor and was with him at the Embassador's house of Spain on Friday or Saturday last: that he had no business with him but only was there to see his wife : that he had been acquainted with Dr. Taylor since the beginning of summer : that he never saw the said crystal with the straw either in the Lord Embassador's or in Dr. Taylor's house."

Endorsed " Copy of Thomas Laithwaite's second examination 3 Decem. 1606."

IX. The account given by John Wilkinson, when dying at St. Omers, translated from Father More's Historia Provincial Anglicanӕ, lib. vii., n. 35.

" I, John Wilkinson, stricken by a grievous malady, and my life being despaired of by the physicians, that I may acquit myself of an obligation by which I am bounden to God and His saints, will now declare how I found the ear of corn on which the likeness of blessed Father Garnet is to be seen.

"The day previous to Father Garnet's execution, I was taken with a vehement desire of beholding his death, and of carrying away something of his relics. I was filled with an assurance of satisfying my desire so great that I did not doubt but that I should see something whereby God would testify to the innocence of His holy servant. When this thought kept continually recurring to me I endeavoured to drive it from my mind, lest by expecting a miracle where there was no need of one, I might tempt God and offend Him. On the following day very early I betook myself to the place of execution and took up a position as near the scaffold as possible, remaining in the same spot until Garnet came. So great, however, was the concourse of horsemen on the arrival of the Father, and such a crowd of people pressed round that I could not keep my position, nor hear distinctly what was said. I remarked nevertheless many things which caused me no slight consolation. In the first place, the careful arrangement of his shirt that it might not be raised by the wind, which gave me a great idea of his modesty and purity. Again when the ladder was removed, his hands placed over his breast in the form of a cross, although they dropped somewhat, yet retained the same form of the cross over his heart until he expired. This furnished me with greater reason for wonder, as if it had been a sign sent from Heaven, for whilst dying he had prayed that God would not allow the Cross of his Lord to be torn from his heart. I also perceived that when his head was cut off and held up for the view of the spectators, that his countenance was the same and retained the same colour as in life; and at the same time I remarked that I did not hear any one cry out ' Long live the King !' as is the custom on such an occasion. This was a proof to me that even then the people were convinced of his innocence. After his body had been cut up into four parts and together with the head thrown into a basket and placed in a cart, as the crowd by degrees retired I advanced into the space between the scaffold and the cart, still with the same eager desire of carrying off some of his relics. Whilst I was looking round, this ear of corn, concerning which there is now so much talk, somehow or other came into my hands. Straw was thrown from the scaffold into the basket containing the head and members, but whether this ear came from the scaffold or the basket I cannot say, I am certain however that it did not touch the ground. I handed over this ear the same day to Mrs. Griffin, and she placed it in a crystal case, which being rather small caused the ear to be bent round. A few days afterwards in my presence she showed it to one of our acquaintance a very good man. When he had looked at it with much attention he said, ' I do not see anything except a man's face.' Astonished at this remark, we ran to the case and both of us beheld the face which we had not remarked before. Others also being summoned perceived it at the same time. And this is the most true account of the ear which I found, as God knows, and I considered that for His glory I was bound to narrate it."

X. Father Richard Blount, in.a letter dated November 8, 1606, says, "A Catholic person in London having kept, since the execution of Mr. Garnet, a straw that was embued in his blood, now these days past being viewed again by the party and others, they espy in the ear of the straw a perfect face of a man dead, his eyes, nose, beard, and neck so lively representing Mr. Garnet as not only in my eyes but in the eyes of others which knew him, it doth lively represent him. This hath been seen by Catholics and Protestants of the best sort and divers others who much admire it &c. This you may boldly report, for besides ourselves a thousand others are witnesses of it."

And in another letter dated March, 1607, "It cannot be a thing natural or artificial. The sprinkling of blood hath made so plain a face, so well proportioned, so lively shadowed, as no art in such a manner is able to counterfeit the like." Stonyhurst MSS., Father Grene's Collectan. M.

XI. Father Henry More, whose history was published in 1660, says that the straw was kept in the English College of the Society at Liege. The last mention we have met of it is by the Abbe Feller, in the article "Garnett" in his Dictionnaire Historique, which was published at Liege in 1797, and therefore after the suppression of the Society. His words are, " L'epi est aujourdhui entre les mains d'un de mes amis, qui le conserve soigneusement." These words are omitted in the later editions of the Dictionary.

1 Condition of Catholics, p. 301.

2 Father More says that this was the Spanish Ambassador, which is in accordance with Griffin's deposition. He gives an attestation of the Baron de Hobocque, dated in 1625, attesting that he had seen the straw in 1606, when he was in London as Ambassador of the Archdukes of the Low Countries. Hist, Prov, AngL lib. vii. n. 35.

3 This letter has another endorsement, which is not easily decipherable.

4 That is to say that, " though a gentleman, he practises painting."

5 We thus learn that Father Gerard's friend was knighted early in James' reign. Sir William Wiseman published a book in 1619 called "The Christian Knight."

6 That is, "whose brother is a knight."

7 There is no face given in the margin of the copy.

8 Lord William Howard of Naworth, third son of Thomas fourth Duke of Norfolk, half-brother of Philip Earl of Arundel.

9 The copy of the first examination does not seem to have been preserved. Father Gerard has said, supra, p. 387, that they could not prove Thomas Laithwaite to be a priest, and in these examinations there is nothing to show that he was suspected of being one. It is noteworthy that Hugh Griffin is asked "where the said Thomas is to be found," at the very time when he was in Archbishop Bancroft's custody. Father Gerard adds that "his brother was allowed to buy his freedom." This would seem to be a confusion with a former imprisonment, for Thomas Laithwaite was one of the 47 priests who were banished in 1606. He had been arrested on his landing at Plymouth in 1604 and condemned to death for his priesthood at the Lammas Assizes at Exeter, and he was then the means of converting his brother Edward, who had come to see him in prison in the hope of reclaiming him to Protestantism. There were five of the family in the Society, three priests who were known by the name of Kensington, Father Thomas whose alias was Scott, and the eldest who was a lay-brother (More, Hist. Prov. lib. ix. n. 1).

10 Sir Hugh Beeston, son of Sir George Beeston, who distinguished himself against the Armada and died in September 1601, married Margaret, daughter of Laurence Downes of Worthe, and widow of Philip Worthe of Tydrington.

A Meditaion on The Raising of Lazarus. by Richard S. Clarke S.J.

St. John xi. 1—45.

When Lazarus fell sick, his sisters Martha and Mary sent to Jesus, saying, " Lord, he whom Thou lovest is sick." Jesus after two days starts for Bethany, and arrives there when Lazarus had been dead four days. Martha hastens to meet Jesus. Mary waits until she is sent for. Jesus approaches the grave, and cries aloud, " Lazarus, come forth ! " And he that was dead came forth still bound with the grave clothes.

1. The message sent by Martha and Mary is a model of prayer in trouble, especially in temporal trouble. They do not ask for anything, they simply state their needs. He likes us to tell Him our troubles, and if He delays, and seems to neglect us as He did Martha and Mary, it is that He may in the end perform a signal miracle on our behalf. I then will tell Him my troubles, and be content to leave it all to Him.

2. See the difference between the active Martha and the passive Mary. The former runs unbidden to meet Jesus ; the latter waits. It was Mary's grief that chiefly moved the tears of Jesus. He likes those who are passive until He calls them to act; those who remain where they are until He summons them elsewhere ; those who wait for His inspirations, instead of following their own impulses. Am I one of these ?

3. The raising of Lazarus corresponded in the physical order to the raising of the soul from the spiritual death of sin. The latter is a far greater miracle. How happy I should account myself if I have the privilege of taking part with Jesus in raising from the corruption and death of sin, any of those souls for which He died.

From - The Ministry of Jesus, meditations for six months

TAKE AND EAT BY REV. ROBERT NASH, S.J.

FROM TIME TO TIME one hears of men going on a hunger strike and everybody knows what must be the inevitable result if they persist in refusing to take food. Little by little the body will grow more and more emaciated, each day that the strike lasts sees the man's strength give way, and ultimately death must come, for, through sheer lack of food, all power has been lost to resist its onslaughts. Now there is another sort of hunger strike with which we propose to deal in the pages of this little book. You will find thousands of Catholics who refuse to give to their souls the food that is essential to the soul's health. Result? Of course the soul too sickens and dies, for having no powers of resistance it must also succumb to the attacks of the forces of evil. You cannot put a soldier on the field and make no provision for keeping him supplied with food. A starving man must be fed and nourished before he can be expected to fight. In just the same way, your soul cannot long hold out against the many enemies who assail her unless she too is kept fit for the fight by regular supplies of sustaining food. On every side you will come across people who will explain to you how hard it is to “keep good” at this present time. Undoubtedly, the world of today abounds in temptations of all sorts, and the Catholic who steers through the labyrinth and keeps his course must needs be a skilled pilot. Passion is seething in the human breast and facilities for its gratification abound. What is easier than to allow one's ideals to run crashing into the reef ? Who does not feel at times almost overpowered by the temptation to take his hand off the helm and, regardless of consequences, to let his little craft dash recklessly into the vortex of excitement and sin? Poor frail human nature, in which there is so much that is noble and lovable ! How many there are who embark on life's journey buoyed up with high-souled aspirations and who grow listless and inert before many knots have been covered ! How many resolute promises to God are made and how few there are, comparatively, who prove their loyalty to Him when tested by the storms and winds and rain of temptation! What tears of bitter repentance for sin, followed by a return to husks of swine! Strange that it should be so,—on the one hand this craving for goodness and on the other this apparent inability to attain to it, at least permanently! This is the place to pause for a moment in order to remind our-selves of a vastly consoling truth. It is very well worth while insisting with ourselves that it is quite a literal fact that the forces arrayed against us are indeed too strong for us. We have no chance against them. The enemy is a master of astuteness, and, in the “body of flesh” with its sinful tendencies, he finds a willing ally. Left to ourselves it is impossible for us even to conceive a good thought or cherish a holy desire. How much more impossible must it be to steer a straight course in face of the violent storms which continually threaten to capsize your little boat? Do recognise that it is impossible. Admit readily to yourself that it cannot be done. But if this is true where does the consolation come in? Is not my utter helplessness calculated only to fill me with depression and make me give up the struggle altogether? What is the use in fighting sin and temptation if I am so hopelessly weak before them? This attitude would be intelligible if we had to say that we were left to ourselves. But the same Lord Who assures us that without Him we can do nothing was far indeed from abandoning us to the buffetings out on life's ocean. The enemy is strong. Our merciful Lord has therefore provided us with a marvellous life-giving food precisely because we need so sorely a strength that is greater. And that food is nothing less than His own Body and Blood. “Take ye and eat ; this is My Body. Take ye and drink ; this is My Blood . . . He that eateth My flesh and drinketh My blood hath everlasting life.” Long ago the prophet fainted on his journey and was desperately tempted to lie down and die. But God sent him a strengthening bread from heaven. He ate and walked forty days till he reached Horeb the mount of God. Our souls, too, need strengthening Food and nobody knows that better than Our Lord. “If God be with me who shall be against me?” And through frequent and fervent reception of Holy Communion God is in very truth living in me. What wonder that the enemy quails before His Face? “Take and eat” this divine Food and see what will happen. You will find a new strength growing up within you, just the very strength you needed. When you have for a time made frequent and fervent Holy Communion a habit, you will some day begin to reflect within yourself on a happy change that has taken place in your life. Temptation is still there and well you know that it is always possible for you to fall. But while it is true that you recognise your weakness it is none the less true that the attack has lost much of its force. Moreover passion, which formerly had such a strong appeal, now seems to have calmed considerably and the glittering objects with which it used to seduce you are seen to be after all, only so much tinsel. You have more confidence now without being in any way presumptuous. You have a sense of comforting security now, for passion though not dead, is no longer the imperious tyrant of other days. In a word you have acquired strength, a strength to do what you know you should do and to avoid what you know you should leave undone. Such a happy change! It is such a relief! How has this result come about? Your new-found strength is not your own. You are now receiving Holy Communion frequently and fervently and so you have within you the strength of Jesus Christ Himself. In a new sense the words of St. Paul are yours: “I live, now not I, but Christ lives in me.” “Take and Eat.” Never until we get to heaven, and not even then, shall we fully understand the anxiety of Jesus Christ for our eternal salvation. It is not fair to complain of our trials and temptations for no temptation is insuperable. “I can do all things in Him that strengthenth me,” and it is especially through this ineffable gift of Himself that Jesus pours His own strength, His own very life, into your soul. He has sympathy with you in those attacks of the enemy. He understands how vehement can be the inclination to plunge recklessly into evil. But do not tax Him with leaving you without provision for the fight. You cannot go down if you depend on Him. you cannot be seriously wounded if His life is abiding in you. Or if you do fall and if you are wounded you will immediately rise again. That is why we say that monthly Holy Communion is good; weekly Holy Communion is better ; daily Holy Communion, worthily received, is best of all. Why? Because the oftener you take and eat of this sacred Food the more your strength will increase, or better, the more His divine strength will wax within your soul, and if God be with you who shall be against you ? This is why He leaves Himself to you under the form of bread,—to indicate that Holy Communion is the source of strength. There is scarcely a time a priest stands in a pulpit that he does not want to speak about this first effect of Holy Communion. Such a marvellous remedy for the frailty of human nature! One has had the happiness of seeing lives revolutionised by the regular and fervent reception of this divine Food. Weakness gone before His strength, fear and anxiety giving way to joy and trust, temptations that hitherto seemed to hold the poor captive in manacles of steel now broken at last and freedom restored—these are some of the wondrous results that accrue to the soul through the strength of Christ communicated to her by means of Holy Communion. Try it. But what passes one's comprehension is that so many fail to use this divine remedy. You know you are a slave to impurity or drink, you know your soul is in imminent danger of being lost, you have lived in habitual carelessness. Do you tell me that you really desire to rise above all that welter of sin? To live once again the life worthy of your manhood? Do you say that you wish you could be pure but that your case seems hopeless? You are contradicted by no less a Person than Jesus Christ. “He that eateth Me the same also shall live by Me.” Some months ago a priest said Mass on a Sunday morning in a country church. Out of a dense mass of men only two or three received Holy Communion. Why? Must not one presume that in a big crowd like that there were many sorely tempted, many possibly who had allowed themselves to be driven hither and thither before the violence of the storm? Yet here was the remedy and they will not take it. Here is the source of the very strength of God Himself, ready to place itself at their disposal and there they stand, staring vacantly before them, and letting the food pass them by. One wonders if they are in earnest about their cure at all seeing that they make so poor a use of the prescription left them by the Physician. You cannot break off that occasion of sin,—without Christ. You cannot give up that companion who is leading you astray and whom you perhaps are leading astray,—without Christ. You have not a chance, with your weak vacillating will, of guiding your barque through the raging torrents, pitted against such a foe, unless Christ steers with you. But with Him what a difference! His strength gathering your weakness to Himself; His holiness transforming the ugliness of your sinfulness; His steady hand on the wheel and His unerring gaze fixed on the shore; in a word His very life expanding each day more and more within your soul. “Take and eat” for you can do all things in Him Who gives you such a strength. A certain man had been a daily communicant for many years. Once each week he had to drive to a city one hundred and forty miles distant from his home, and his business there required his presence at an early hour in the morning. His practice was, on arriving at that city, to pull up his car outside a Church and go into Mass and Holy Communion. He had driven one hundred and forty miles fasting and without a smoke, for the privilege of being able to receive Holy Communion, and this not once or twice but for many years. Here was a man who realised that monthly Holy Communion was good; weekly Holy Communion better, but daily Holy Communion best of all. Did he have temptations? Of course he had. Did he succumb? Of course he did not. Or if he did, he at once recovered. Why? Because of the regular supplies of the grace of God, divine life itself, which were thus continually reaching his soul and strengthening his powers of resistance. In many places of Holy Scripture you have instances, sad indeed, of men who were brought to Our Lord because they were possessed by an evil spirit. The unfortunate man so possessed spoke as the evil spirit wished him to speak, moved as he ordered him to move, flinging himself here and there despite the efforts of the strongest men to hold him down. There is another sort of possession,. a much happier possession, the possession which Our Lord designs to secure over your whole being through Holy Communion. “Comprehensus sum a Christo Jesu”, writes St. Paul. “I am apprehended, or seized upon by Jesus Christ.” The metaphor is from racing. The winner of the race seized upon his prize and held it in his possession as a sign of his prowess. Now the prize most valued by Jesus Christ, the valiant Champion, is the soul and the heart and the mind of the creature fashioned by the hand of our heavenly Father. That He should love human nature to such an extent is a miracle that we shall not exhaust even in eternity. But of the fact there can be no sort of doubt. This is the prize He longs to seize upon and to hold in His possession. And it is especially through Holy Communion worthily received that He secures His objective. What does this possession by Christ imply? Think of the different faculties you possess and try to understand how, if this second effect of Holy Communion obtains, each will be brought under the controlling influence of Jesus Christ. You possess first of all two interior faculties, your mind and your heart. The mind is the seat of thought. That mind of yours must henceforth cherish only the thoughts of Christ since He designs to acquire complete possession of it. “Let that mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” Hence you will carefully exclude from your mind all deliberate thoughts of impurity, of hatred, revenge, selfish greed. Why? Because that mind of yours now belongs to Christ since He has taken possession of it through Holy Communion. How then could you entertain thoughts of that sort seeing that they are so foreign to the mind of Christ? And on the positive side your mind will cultivate the thoughts that filled the mind of Christ. You know how He went about doing good to all men, ever thinking of their needs, always on the watch to help. The mind of which He has taken possession must be like Him henceforth, “all things to all men.” That divine Mind valued most highly the things that are above, treasure to be laid up in heaven where neither rust nor moth doth consume. Receive frequently and fervently this divine Guest into your soul and you too will begin to relish eternal things, and the race for power or money or sin, which-occupies the thoughts and energies of the bulk of mankind will seem to you, what it is in reality, a foolish waste of time and opportunity. You will see life from a new angle,—the only opportunity you have of accumulating treasure in heaven,—and you will be all keenness to make the most of that one opportunity. Thus will you develop the mind of Christ through contact with Him in Holy Communion. Then there is your heart, the seat of your affections. Of St. Paul it was said that the heart of Paul was the heart of Christ. Why? Because with his great apostolic love he embraced only the objects which were ever dear above all to the Sacred Heart,—the souls of men. When the mind is possessed by Christ light and conviction follow. When the heart comes under His divine influence the will reaches out to lay hold upon souls and lead them to Christ for He is an ardent lover of souls. In Holy Communion then, He seeks to obtain this entire possession of your heart and fill it with the affections of His own Heart. Hence too, He will rigorously exclude all false unworthy objects. Affection to sin must go because if Jesus loved sinners He hated intensely sin which would rob them of the heaven prepared for them. Your external faculties must also come under the power and control of Jesus through Holy Communion. Your eyes must never deliberately look at an object that He could not gaze upon. Why? Because they belong to Him now since through Holy Communion He has taken possession of them. Your tongue upon which He rested must never utter an unkind word, still less must it spread lying gossip or foul language. It belongs to Him. It is His possession now since your Holy Communion. Your ears you will close to all that you know is opposed to what He would have you listen to your hands? His were roughened with toil; your hands too will be ready to serve others in any way in your power. Those hands of yours are His property since He owns you through Holy Communion. Therefore He can use your hands to help His members, the members of His mystical Body. Finally He must take possession of your feet. These you will not use to walk into occasions of sin. You will never allow them to lead you into places where He and His Blessed Mother cannot be welcome guests. Why? Because they now belong to Him. He has taken possession of them by means of Holy Communion. The whole idea of St. Paul‟s theology is that the life of Jesus should grow within us by a continual increase of divine grace in the soul. Now in Holy Communion we receive the very Source itself of all grace. That is why it is such a sovereignly effective means of bringing about the wonderful transformation in our faculties which make them responsive to the most delicate touches of divine grace. Take and eat this Food regularly and fervently and a Christliness will necessarily follow. Monthly Holy Communion is good; weekly Holy Communion is better; daily Holy Communion is best of all. St. Catherine could never receive Holy Communion without falling into an ecstasy which often lasted for hours afterwards. St. Ignatius had the greatest difficulty in saying Mass on account of the abundance of tears he shed when he recalled the self-abasing and tender love of Jesus in the Holy Eucharist. The Cure of Ars used to say that if we realised what the Mass is we should die of love and wonder. Not so long ago a non-Catholic said to a Catholic: “If I believed what you Catholics say you believe about the Blessed Eucharist I think I should never be off my knees.” When Dr. Orchard was still a Protestant he attended Mass one day and, on coming out of the Church he said to his companion: “These Catholics may be right or they may be wrong in what they believe about the Eucharist. But one thing I know,—that priest who has just said Mass, he at least believes it.” The reverent attitude of that priest, his very evident deep spirit of faith as he moved about the altar and handled the Sacred Host produced their effect and contributed towards the conversion of that great Catholic. These things are said by way of introducing what we wish to bring forward as the third effect of fervent and frequent Holy Communion. Jesus does not give strength merely, nor does He content Himself with taking possession. Above all, through contact with Him is there enkindled in the heart a fire of burning love. “Hold Him and keep Him for thy friend, Who, when all others forsake thee will not abandon thee or suffer thee to perish in the end.” The man who is a regular and worthy communicant knows well the truth of the love of Jesus for him. He has not learned it out of books merely. He has not just listened to it in sermons. From his own intimate experience he understands, in a way he cannot tell you, that when Jesus Christ stretches out His arms wide to embrace all men, when He proclaims from the house tops that His Heart is on fire with love for us in our waywardness and sinfulness,—contact with Christ has taught him well that this language of love is no metaphor but literal truth. When Our Lord gave us this Gift He was seated with “His own” at the Supper Table. He saw that in that very night Judas would betray Him with a kiss. Peter would deny Him three times, cursing and swearing that he had never even heard His name. The rest of His own would scamper away from Him in terror at the first appearance of danger. And His “revenge” is to give them this Gift. “Take ye and eat.” Was there ever such a Lover? And as He sat there He looked down through the centuries and saw the Peters and the Judasas who would betray Him and repudiate His Gift. He saw the innumerable sacrileges that would desecrate His Eucharist. He saw that many would draw near to Him to receive Him, apparently indeed His friends, but in reality, even at that awful moment,— appalling thought,—their souls would be reeking with the guilt of mortal sin. Of all this He would have to complain to St. Margaret Mary. Of ingratitude, and sacrilege, and forgetfulness, and this “even from those consecrated to Me!” Why then does He give the Gift at all? If the vast bulk of mankind are going to treat Him thus why will He knowingly allow the Bread of angels to be trampled underneath the feet of swine? Why? Because although the “vast majority” will repay His love with blasphemy, there will be at least a minority who will try to appreciate and love. And so ardently does He crave for that love of man‟s heart that He will go through all that sea of sin and sacrilege for the sake of that few. When the priest bends over the chalice at the Consecration of the Mass, Holy Church puts on his lips the words: “This is the chalice . . . which will be poured out for you and for many . . .. Pro vobis et pro multis. There is here a clear distinction. The Gift is first of all “pro vobis,”—for those around Him, His intimate friends, and only after them “pro multis,”—for the general multitude. The inner circle may be small but so intense is His love that He will endure sacrileges and insults provided He can be its centre. So we have now touched upon three effects brought about in the soul that “takes and eats” this Sacred Food. Strength, the very strength of Christ Himself. Possession, so that little by little Our Lord can control all that man's faculties. And lastly, a burning love which shrivels up the nonsense and the make believe of the world and establishes between Jesus and the soul a most holy and intimate and abiding familiarity. Yes, let us once again repeat our slogan. Monthly Holy Communion is good; weekly Holy Communion is better; daily Holy Communion, worthily received, is best of all. Strengthened with Christ's strength; possessed by Christ and possessing Him; loved by Him and loving Him ardently—if these are some of the wonders wrought by Holy Communion why are there so many who regard His Gift so casually? Why are there not many more daily communicants? One reason we have touched upon already. It seems hard to excuse those who complain about the difficulties of living a good life if they refuse to use this wonderful antidote. Men going to war have to receive injections against disease. Every man on earth is fighting for his eternal salvation. He too needs an injection against the diseases that are sure to attack him and the divine Physician has supplied it. It is an infallible Injection for it is His own precious Blood. If you do not use it, or use it only haphazardly, who is to blame if you fall a victim to sin? The question is: Are you really in earnest at all about your eternal salvation? But, apart from this class there is another which makes only scant use of this Gift, though for a different reason. Many good Catholics will, say to you: “Yes, I could go to Holy Communion often, but I wouldn‟t dare. The fact is that I am not worthy.” Did anybody ever remotely suggest that you were worthy? Does not common sense tell you at once that of course you are utterly unworthy? How could anyone of us, even the greatest saint, be worthy of admittance to this sacred Banquet? “If you had the purity of an angel and the holiness of John the Baptist you would not be worthy ....” You receive Our Lord, not because you are worthy but because you are sorely in need of Him. “Without Me you can do nothing.” The only worthiness strictly required is freedom from mortal sin. But what about venial sins? Certainly cleanse your soul of them before Holy Communion by a good act of contrition. But on no account should you allow them to keep you away. Here is a mother of a large family. Your youngest child spills tea on a new table cloth and you fly into a temper. Can you go to Holy Communion tomorrow? Certainly. Here is a lady walking down town and she runs into a bit of uncharitable gossip. Then reflects afterwards: What a pity! I suppose that now I can‟t go to Holy Communion. Please let me say very emphatically that you can. Here is a man playing cards and the language grows a bit coarse. That indeed is not an ideal preparation for Holy Communion but if he has done his best to keep clear of that language, or even if he has smiled or put in his few words, let him make his act of sorrow and promise of amendment, and go to Holy Communion. You tell a small lie in order to get out of a scrape, you indulge a habit of laziness, you pray with distraction—these things need not keep you from Holy Communion. To avoid all venial sin for a long period is impossible, without a special grace from God. But Holy Communion is one of the very best means of conquering these vicious habits. Venial sin disappears out of your soul when Christ enters into you in much the same way as darkness vanishes when you open the shutter and allow the glorious summer sun to stream into your room. Nobody will misunderstand and argue that we seem to be condoning habits of venial sin. Far from it. Our only point for the moment is, that venial sin does not constitute a barrier to the reception of this most Holy Sacrament. Everyone knows that no purity can be too great to receive the all-pure God. Everyone understands that frequent reception of Holy Communion should diminish enormously the frequency of venially sinful habits. So if you fall into venial sins make an act of contrition and go to Holy Communion and confess those sins at your next ordinary Confession. Suppose I commit a mortal sin and make an act of perfect contrition? Can I now go to Holy Communion, provided I have the intention of confessing at my next confession? No. This is a case where, with very rare exceptions, you should abstain from going to Holy Communion. As soon as you make your act of perfect contrition your sin is indeed entirely forgiven, but there remains on you the obligation to confess it before you receive Holy Communion. The case would be different if you forgot to tell a mortal sin in Confession. You had your mind fully made up to tell it but somehow it went clean out of your head when you were kneeling before the priest. Can you go to Holy Communion? Yes. And how often? As often as you wish, not once or twice only. Your only obligation in this case is to tell the forgotten sin at your next ordinary Confession. If an opportunity turns up of going to Confession of which you would not ordinarily be availing yourself, there is no obligation on you to avail of it now merely because you forgot your sin. Hence, in this case go to Holy Communion, and as often as you like, and tell the sin at your next ordinary Confession. From what we have just been saying you see that it is not necessary to go to Confession each time you go to Holy Communion. Many excellent Catholics miss opportunities of receiving Our Lord because of this false notion. If you are going frequently to Holy Communion you are certainly to be recommended to go frequently also to Confession. But, provided you are keeping clear of mortal sin there is no reason in the world why you should not go to Holy Communion several times even though weeks may have elapsed during which you had not an opportunity of getting to Confession. You have been to Confession on a Saturday and twelve days later you are at Mass and you are fasting. IS there anything to keep you from receiving Holy Communion? Nothing at all provided you have not fallen meantime into mortal sin. And the same will be true in another week's time. Of course we must again stress that frequent Confession is much to be recommended when you are receiving Holy Communion frequently. But recommendation is one thing and obligation is another, and it is a pity if you miss a chance of receiving Our Lord when you might lawfully and laudably avail of it. Sometimes people find themselves caught the other way, i.e. they have opportunity of going to Confession but they cannot get to Holy Communion. You have to deliver milk or go to the factory on a Sunday morning and it is impossible for you, especially at certain seasons, to go frequently to Holy Communion. But what about Confession? There is no difficulty, you say, about that on the previous Saturday. But what's the use when Imm not able to go to Holy Communion? There is every use. Every sacrament brings grace to your soul. If you cannot receive both sacraments do make sure of at least one and you will reap much benefit. Perhaps it may be well to insert a word here about the privilege sick people have concerning the Eucharistic fast. If a man has been laid up for a month (roughly twenty-four or twenty-five days), he can receive Holy Communion without keeping the fast from midnight. “Laid up” does not mean that he has to be actually in bed all during that month. Perhaps he sits up for a few hours or even goes out in the sunshine during the day, or can manage even a little walk in his garden. Now if he has been in that state for about a month he can get leave from his Confessor to receive Holy Communion twice in each week, even though he has taken liquid food during the previous night. And with that permission, he is allowed to drink, not once only, but as often as he needs on each of the two nights. He can drink tea, or liquid medicine, or a “beaten-up” egg—anything provided it does not lose its character of being liquid. Note that he must have completed the twenty-four or twenty-five days. It does not suffice that the doctor tells him he is going to be laid up for that period or longer. Note too that if he can manage to keep the fast on other nights he can receive Holy Communion oftener than twice a week and use his privilege. Thus perhaps on Monday and Tuesday and Wednesday nights he does not take any drink after midnight. On each of the following mornings he can go to Holy Communion. If he takes drink now on Thursday and Friday he can still use his privilege as a sick man. It is also to be stated that one can always avail of “new time” in computing the hour of midnight. At present we are one hour and twenty-five minutes “ahead of the sun”. Consequently a man may take food up till twenty-five minutes past one a.m. and receive Holy Communion at Mass that same morning. Until the pontificate of Pope Pius XII the Eucharistic fast was from midnight. Pope Pius reduced it to three hours, and after Vatican II, Pope Paul VI reduced it to one hour. The current Code of Canon Law states, Canon 919 1. One who is to receive the Most Holy Eucharist is to abstain from any food or drink, with the exception only of water and medicine, for at least the period of one hour before Holy Communion. 2. A priest who celebrates the Most Holy Eucharist two or three times on the same day may take something before the second or third celebration even if the period of one hour does not intervene. 3. Those who are advanced in age or who suffer from any infirmity, as well as those who take care of them, can receive the Most Holy Eucharist even if they have taken something during the previous hour. The Eucharistic fast is before Holy Communion, not the Mass. It is a fast from food and drink, water is alright, as is medicine. The moral theology tradition teaches that to be food it must be a) edible, b) taken by mouth, and c) swallowed. In addition to breakfast, lunch and dinner, candies, breath mints, lozanges and anything that is put into the mouth to be dissolved or chewed meets these conditions once the dissolved contents are swallowed. Chewing gum does not break the fast, but it is disrespectful of the Sacred Liturgy and once the juice is swallowed the fast is broken. The tradition also teaches that the fast is strict - one hour, that is, 60 minutes. Given that until recently the fast was from midnight, this seems very little to ask of Catholics. What is to be said about smoking before receiving Holy Communion? It does not break the fast and therefore need not prevent you from going. But, as an act of reverence and self-denial you are to be recommended to abstain. Having dealt with those who neglect this great antidote out of carelessness and also with those who refrain from Holy Communion through a false conscience, it remains that a word be said about those who actually do receive Our Lord frequently and yet, it would seem, do not reap the grand effects set forth in the beginning of this paper. Perhaps you have heard it said that sin was never more prevalent and yet the crowds at the altar rails were never so big. You have our magnificent First Fridays, our Mission and Retreat Communions, our Sodalities and Confraternities with their regular reception of Holy Communion. And yet, in spite of all his there are such terrifying stories abroad about sin and laxity of every kind. What is wrong? If Holy Communion is so frequent and yet crime so common can it be affirmed that the Gift is such a sovereign remedy after all? An anecdote or two will help with the answer. Mass was just over in the small country Church on Sunday morning. I was kneeling in the organ gallery and I noted with joy that large numbers approached the altar for Holy Communion. It was a grand sight. Especially was I edified by the big number of young men who drew near to receive Our Lord and returned with hands devoutly joined to their places. Such fine numbers and such reverence—but, in less than five minutes after the priest had left the altar the Church was practically empty. I saw one man and his wife and child remain some considerable time in thanksgiving. Here and there an isolated person, mostly women and girls, stayed on. But the vast bulk of that crowd had vanished. Out of that big number it was literally true that scarcely a dozen in all remained behind to thank Him for His Gift for even ten minutes. Three young girls, aged about eighteen or nineteen, came running to Mass. The priest was distributing Holy Communion. The girls had been chatting and joking right up to the Church door. Then a hurried splash of holy water and a quick glance towards the altar. Yes. They were in time. There were still two or three people waiting for Holy Communion so our three little friends almost ran up the Church, fell on their knees at the altar steps, and, all flushed and breathless, received Holy Communion. The little lad had served my Mass with becoming attention and precision. Each morning during the retreat he had presented himself at the usual time for Holy Communion. We came back together into the sacristy about six or seven minutes later. During that few minutes he had been occupied with his duties as server and could have scarcely done more than mumble an aspiration or two. Immediately on reaching the sacristy he pulled off his little cassock and was gone. What of his thanksgiving? He just didn't make one. On the last day of the retreat, when I knew that I should not be saying Mass there again next morning I asked him if he had ever been told about thanksgiving after Holy Communion. Ever been taught that it was usual to spend at least a quarter of an hour thanking Our Lord and asking Him for the graces we need? He was a fine youngster and I believe he answered me truthfully. No. He was quite sure he had never been told about that quarter of an hour. And where was he going to school? It is hardly for me to tell you! But he told me and his answer surprised me. A few years ago the Sacred Congregation of the Sacraments issued an instruction about frequent and daily Holy Communion. Those who promote this most praiseworthy habit are warned to impress on their disciples the need for care concerning the conditions necessary for worthy reception of this most Holy Sacrament. Anything like “dragooning” people into going to Holy Communion is severely reprobated. Setting too much store on mere numbers is much to be blamed. It is not mere numbers that the Church wants. It is not mere routine reception of Holy Communion that will work in souls the wonders outlined above. Are we allowing our young folk to dash up and dash down without a word of preparation and thanksgiving? Are we stressing .the actual reception of Holy Communion to the detriment of the need of approaching this most Holy Sacrament with due reverence, and employing our quarter of an hour afterwards in some effort to thank Our Lord? Are we guilty ourselves of this want of proper dispositions? If we are, let us not seek farther for an answer to our query. Holy Communion does not work like a charm, a talisman. Yes, we thank the Lord with a full and grateful heart for those First Fridays and those packed altar rails, but once again let us not rest on our oars. The mere mechanical reception is not enough. We have to bring proper dispositions, not adequate indeed for that is impossible, but at least that measure of adequacy which our poverty can supply. Attentive, fervent Holy Communion is what the Pope is pleading for. That too is what will bring those grand effects spoken of. It is what Jesus Christ has a right to expect from us. Is He receiving it? That flippancy shows itself in another way too. From time to time one comes across a disgusting sentimentality in this matter of receiving the Sacraments, especially Holy Communion. Let me explain. You have a young person making the nine Fridays, or a member of the Confraternity. Of course, nothing would induce them to omit the Confraternity Holy Communion, or to “break” the Fridays. But side by side with that resolve, excellent in itself, you have that person living in a free proximate occasion of serious sin. Have they the remotest notion of breaking that? Not they! They quite possibly have arranged to go back to it that very night, albeit to watch their pious attitude now you would think them fit to be classed with the saints. Or they are living beyond their means, indulging every extravagant whim, having outgrown, of course, the old-fashioned idea of paying their bills! There is a want of solidity in their religion. Let the Almighty accommodate Himself and His Laws to their way of thinking and they will willingly serve Him! They like to “feel” holy, and Holy Communion gives them that feeling, especially if these is some favourite hymn played and sung well at the time. But as for changing their lives, or breaking off that occasion of sin, or paying what they owe! Does it cross their mind that mere sentiment is no service? That this lip-service is a mockery? That true religion is that which makes a person order his life as God means it to be ordered? Feeling may come or go, but the true servant of God is not swayed by it. He is loyal especially in times of stress. And if he sees clearly that his life is out of joint with the teaching of Christ then he resolves, and at least tries sincerely, to change what is amiss. And it is that sincerity and consistency that draws down abundant blessings on him when he receives Holy Communion. So it is not mere numbers that Christ wants. He complains, indeed, that there are many who abandon Him, but in those who do draw near Him He surely has a right to look for proper dispositions. It is a catastrophe if even those who do come think lightly of the supreme and sacred act they are performing. “As He entered into a certain town there met Him ten men who were lepers, who stood afar off. And lifted up their voices saying "Jesus, Master, have mercy on us.‟ Whom when He saw He said "Go, show yourselves to the priests.‟ And it came to pass that as they went they were made clean. And one of them when he saw that he was made clean went back, with a loud voice glorifying God. And he fell on his face before His feet, giving thanks and this was a Samaritan. And Jesus answering said: "Were not ten made clean and where are the nine? There is no one found to return and give glory to God but this stranger”. That complaint was wrung from the Sacred Heart by the evident ingratitude of the nine. Would you accuse those we speak of of base ingratitude towards Christ for the Gift of Himself in the Blessed Eucharist? I leave the answer to yourself, especially if you must number yourself amongst those who rush up and rush down without preparation or thanksgiving. Base ingratitude, perhaps no. But lack of a deep spirit of solid piety, lamentable want of the spirit of faith, yes. And it is this want that atrophies the effects of Holy Communion. If you place a wet log on the fire it will not light until the moisture is first expelled. If you sit on a hillside in summer before a beautiful panorama you won't appreciate the beauty unless you open your eyes. If you are gasping with thirst you won't assuage it by simply feeling that you have drunk a glass of spring water. In all these cases where there is question of producing heat, or enjoying the lovely landscape, or easing your thirst, you have to secure co- operation. You must place the log to be dried. You must use your eyes and you must raise the glass to your lips and drink. In much the same way there has to be co-operation between Our Lord and yourself when you meet in Holy Communion. All the treasures on earth are useless unless they can be enjoyed. All the “unsearchable riches of Christ” will not enrich your soul unless you come to receive Christ with proper dispositions and try to realise what you are about. One is inclined to pursue this matter further and to ask: “Do they know Christ at all, these people we have in mind? “Generally they know a fair amount about the doctrines of His Church. Often they can rattle off definitions for you about the matter and form of a sacrament, the impediments of marriage, the essentials of an act of perfect contrition. All excellent things to know. Often they can give you dates at will; they can tell the year of the definition of such and such a dogma, when this Council assembled and when it dispersed and why. No one has any quarrel with dates and dogma, of course. But is the complaint justified which one often hears made up and down the country, and bitterly made, by those who have to teach religion, that so much time is consumed and so much energy expended in hammering dates and figures and facts into the heads of children that there is none left for Christ Himself? Is there a danger that Christ and His lovableness are obscured if not entirely lost amidst this maze of facts that have to be marshalled round about Him? A little Irish girl aged twenty came some time ago to speak to her parish priest. She declared in all seriousness that she was in love with an atheist and a foreigner whom she had picked up during his week or two while the boat he belonged to was alongside. At first the priest treated the tale as a joke and laughed at her. But she meant business and had come to see what arrangements could be made about the marriage. Then the priest remonstrated. Did she not know what the Church taught about the evils of mixed marriages? Did she never learn at school about the impediments? He was met with a toss of the head and a breezy: “O, of course, Father. But then we all looked upon that as just useful for the exams!” Is our religious training superficial? Is our programme too crowded? If reception of the all-holy and all-loving God in Holy Communion is fast becoming mechanical is it because we do not teach our children the reality of that holiness and that love and that lovableness? Have we to admit that they know not Christ Himself even if they do know quite a lot about Him ? Let me borrow here, with permission, an idea propounded by a priest for his children. He explains to them that the suffix “een” signifies a small person who has not yet fully grown up. Thus Maureen is the growing girl, while Maire is generally the girl who has attained to maturity. In the same way Christ is our Elder Brother. He has attained to full stature. He is grown up. And what are we? Each of us is a Christ-een—a little Christ, “growing up in Christ” as St. Paul expresses it. One can see at a glance what wonderful developments this beautiful idea is capable of, how it can be made to serve as a foundation on which to build deep love for that Elder Brother. In this way the child comes to regard Our Lord as an intimate Friend, one of the family, and each Holy Communion welds the more closely the bond of love between the two. And is not this to teach religion? Is it not the burden of St. Paul's wonderful epistles? Let us teach them Christ Our Lord—what manner of Man He was; what He thought about current problems, about war, and money-making and pleasure-seeking; what He loved and valued; how His conduct was ever consistent with His teaching, for “He began to do and to teach.” Then let them understand something about sanctifying grace, that marvellous gift which makes the human soul His Tabernacle. “I live, now not I, but Christ liveth in me.” The life of Christ is to expand more and more in that soul and the barriers are broken down by self-sacrifice. According as the divine life expands within, it manifests itself more and more in one‟s external conduct so that the child becomes like the Elder Brother even in his way of speaking and acting and judging. The great question always is: What would Christ say to this ? How would He answer? How would He behave in these circumstances? Comprehensus sum a Christo Jesu. He grows more and more into the soul of the child. He becomes the child's greater self. Is this teaching religion? Granted that a course on these lines may not have some of the advantages of another course. Granted that the child may know less about definitions and dates and facts and figures. Granted that he may not shine in an examination where theory supersedes practice. But would it be worth the price if he were thus led to a closer and more intimate knowledge of the love and lovableness of Jesus Christ? And if our children grew up in Christ in this way and advanced each day in a personal love of Him would not that love be bound to affect their attitude towards Holy Communion ? Our Lord complained at the Supper Table that even His own did not know Him. “So long a time have I been with you and you have not known Me?” And lifting up His eyes He declared that this is eternal life that “they may know Thee, the one true God, and Jesus Christ Whom Thou hast sent.” Are we doing our part to acquire that knowledge and to impart it to others? Small wonder that, without this knowledge, when they approach Him they develop the slipshod habit of coming without preparation and running away without thanksgiving. Small wonder that the evil habit contracted in childhood sets firmer as the years of youth and adolescence come on. Small wonder that the Christ, looking out over the empty Church is forced to ask: “Where are the nine? Does only one in ten understand what Holy Communion is? Does only one in ten appreciate this Gift of God for what it is? Does only one in ten know Christ and nine in ten know merely about Him? One in ten! And where are the nine?” Nihil Obstat: Carolus Doyle, S.J., Censor Theol. Deput. Imprimi Potest: + JOANNES CAROLUS Archiep. Dublinen., Hiberniae Primas. DUBLINI, die 27 Maii, I941 ********

MATT TALBOT By Eily MacADAM

Gentili Vault

Since this booklet was first published, the fame of Matt Talbot, humble Dublin workman, has continued to spread far and wide. The crowds who visit the simple room in Rutland Street in which he lived for the last twenty-five years of his life, continue to grow and his vault in Glasnevin is a place of constant pilgrimage. This is not the grave in which, in 1925, the body of an obscure Dublin workman was laid. That humble grave attracted many who heard of the holy life of Matt Talbot and came to seek his intercession. Then, in 1952, with due ceremony, as part of the Apostolic Process in the Cause, the body was exhumed and laid in the O’Connell Circle, in a vault known as the Gentili Tomb, from the fact that the great Italian missioner of the Famine times, Fr. Aloysius Gentili, was buried there until the Fathers of Charity took the body to the mother-house in Omeath. It is to the Gentili vault that the fervent pilgrims now make their way to seek Matt Talbot’s prayers and to pray that, if it is God’s will, the divine seal of miracle may be set on the Cause of the Servant of God. Even in his life time, there were people who set great value on the prayers of the hardworking poor man, whose real work only became known to most people when Sir Joseph Glynn, (R.I.P.) heard the story of the charities and the fasts of the man who had collapsed and died in a city street—as many a worn-out old person has done before—and decided to write the life of Matt Talbot. The publication aroused great interest, which has never flagged. Will it be ours to see the Church gratify the wishes of many by declaring Blessed the humble worker? We know so little. We go down the stream of days so quickly to the end that is the beginning. Yet we are wise to try to know something of ourselves and our fellow-travellers as we go. There may be something to be learned that way, if we manage our voyage always with the end in view. That is not easy. It helps if we can observe the doing of it by another, especially if that other has met contrary winds and come through perils. We can follow and observe, notice how he steered by the stars God has hung out for our guidance, how he used every forwarding wave and evaded rocks and quicksands. We will follow Matt Talbot because we think his voyage ended happily on the shore to which he steered. We are perhaps not such sturdy mariners but we can realise how hard the struggle was and learn what courage and a fatigue- watching of the Eternal Stars can accomplish.  

The story of this voyage?—A simple story.  
At Aldborough Court, off the North Circular Road, in Dublin, a son was born in 1856 to Charles Talbot and his wife Elizabeth (neé Bagnal). Both were Dublin people, Charles Talbot working as foreman in charge of bonded stores for the Port and Docks Board. His father and his grandfather had held the same position, and Charles Talbot had a pride in his job and in his family and in his Church. Both he and the girl he married were Confraternity members at Gardiner Street Jesuit Church. The son, who was born on May 2nd, 1856, was baptised at the Pro-Cathedral in Marlborough Street and given the name Matthew. That name was to be uttered in a mother’s anguished prayers and later was to have a glow around it, be written in many languages and go to Rome as that of a candidate for sainthood. But the pious young mother knew nothing of all these things when she held her baby in her arms. She began to find him a bit of a handful when schooldays came and he and a younger brother—two of a total family of twelve—made it their chief study to escape when she led them to school at North Richmond Street. Well, the best of boys don’t love school but, alas, Matt was not to be the best of boys to that mother of his. Schooldays over—he was twelve-and-a-half—his father found him a job as messenger with a firm of wine merchants. It was probably a happy day in the Talbot home when Matt got his first job. It is not easy to keep a big family on thirty shillings a week, which was Charles Talbot’s wage. It was probably difficult even in that older Dublin. Matt was to live on into the more modern Dublin and ultimately to earn twice his father’s wages, but we shall come to those days. Meanwhile we picture Matt as a boy carrying his basket to this house and that, learning to know his Dublin—a fact those people forget who write of him as if he saw no more of the city than lay within the compass of his walks from home to work and to church that were the limit of his travels in later days when the world had ceased to matter. It is Matt Talbot’s value that he lived in an Irish city of today, met the sort of people we all meet, saw what we see. To picture him otherwise is to remove him from us when we need him near at hand. Did he ever note the passing of the seasons?—some writers ask the question and note that he saw nature’s glories only dimly in the city streets. Did these same writers ever see the springtime come to Mountjoy Square?; ever see golden sunshine shaft between tall Georgian houses?; ever see the Custom House with snow on it and the river heavy with snow? Leave us, please, one touch of nature that makes us kin. On the last day of Matt Talbot’s life he probably crossed Mountjoy Square on his way to meet death in Granby Lane. It was June that morning. Was the sun shining golden on the wide peace of the Square as he went— slowly—for he had been ill and he was old and wore that heavy penitential chain about his waist and the lesser ones on his legs and arms. He had the kindly words of a neighbour in his ears, for a friend had spoken to him as he left the house, telling him he should not go out till he was rested a bit. That fact too holds the precious value of kinship with us. So might a kindly neighbour speak to any of us. But we have been carried away from our story. We were to follow Matt Talbot as he went his way through life. We had, however, first to make sure we were not going to lose him in the cold mists of an inhuman aloofness. Now, having as it were, fallen into step again let us return to the lad in his first job and the first touch of tragedy. Young Matt, in the course of his work at the wine merchants, assisted at bottling stout. Somehow Matt began to taste the stout and he liked it apparently. One night he was not sober when he came home to that good mother and the upright father. He was caned, removed from the job and a position found for him in the bonded stores of which his father had charge. It was soon evident that Matt was going to be a heartbreak. He began to drink whiskey and his poor father had the terrible knowledge that somehow that whiskey was coming out of the stores of which he was in charge. More canings followed. Matt got himself a new job, after four years in which his father had tried every means to keep him straight. Matt became a bricklayer’s labourer. He was now seventeen and for several years he worked for different building contractors, and ultimately got a permanent job with Messrs. T. & C. Martin at the North Wall where for the rest of his life he worked loading carts, unloading timber, etc., until ultimately he became storekeeper. The wages of the seventeen-year-old boy would have been very useful in the home but they never got so far. He was a good worker, never late, but he drank what he earned. He had no other vices, no, not a trace. The friends who told so frankly to his biographers all this story of his degradation were one and all unanimous that drink was his only failing. In drink the real man shows. Matt was never quarrelsome, never objectionable. He was simply wasting his life, working for money to drink and then home stupidly to bed. Poor Elizabeth Talbot, she must have suffered watching her son, and seeing too with added horror the younger boys follow in his footsteps. Once Matt came home in his socks. He had sold his boots for drink. One week, too, the good workman in him failed. He stayed away from work. Payday came but there was no pay for Matt. That was bad, because he wanted a drink. Often before he had been without a drink and had pledged his spare clothes to get one. There had been a merry evening too, once upon a time, when a fiddler had been of the drinking company and when funds ran short Matt and his pals had thought it the cream of the joke to pawn the fiddle and drink the proceeds, leaving the fiddler minus his means of livelihood. However on this particular payday when there was no pay Matt wasn’t worrying. He dressed himself and with a younger brother stood at a corner where the men coming out from the timber-yard would pass. Picture him there, a slight young man, neat and clean without being well-dressed, a young man who had spent many an evening and shilling with his pals and was counting on being included today even though he had no money. The men came out. One after another they passed. They greeted the brothers. That was all. “I’m going home,” said Matt. “It’s too early,” said his brother. He went home that day. His mother greeted him with a remark about his early return. “And you’re sober,” she added. He said nothing but when he had eaten his dinner he dressed himself. He was going to take the pledge, he said. We know nothing of what was working in his soul that day. With a gentle smile his mother bade him be sure he meant to keep it before he took it. He went out, up to Holy Cross College, Clonliffe Road, made the first Confession in three years and took the pledge for three months. He was not very sure of himself. He was twenty-eight now. He had been drinking for fifteen years, lost to all else. It was going to be hard. It was. But now we see strange things happening. On Monday morning Matt Talbot is at 5 o’clock Mass and every morning after and the Church becomes his evening refuge to keep the enemy at bay. Oh, it was hard. “It’s no use, mother,” he said. “When the three months are up I’ll drink again.” He was wrong. He never drank again. There is no further need to apologise for Matt Talbot. He is only twenty-eight. What remains of his youth is to be given to God and he is to soar beyond our following. But remember he is still young, still working in the timber-yard, still meeting the same work-mates, passing the public houses where they used to be merry. He remembers the one in which they seized the fiddle. In later years he searches Dublin for that fiddler to make restitution. He never finds him, but he offers Masses and prayers for the man who had been wronged. If we let ourselves forget that Matt Talbot was young when he entered on his fight we miss the thrill of it. Old men pray more easily. The body is less fond of activity, more biddable. Matt had to fight and pray for forty years. It became easier because his first prayers were for the gift of prayer and it was later given him. How logical was this unlearned man who had left school at twelve-and-a-half. Prayer could save him but he could not pray, so he asked for the gift of prayer. How logical too in his subduing of the body that had led him astray with its craving for drink. It was to be severely disciplined indeed until it became the eager servant of the soul, no longer dragging against the spirit but one with it in the service of God. That is surely how we see this man as he was in the later years of his life, so far as our human eyes can see. He fought. We think he won. It was apparently one of Matt’s sorrows that he had been a bad example to his brothers, and he spoke to them, trying to reclaim them. That was not like Matt, for he had no wish to set himself up as a paragon, even in the later years when he must have been very close to God. But he felt responsible for his brothers probably to some extent. They, it seems, would not listen, and Matt, possibly because it hurt to see them as he had once been, took a room and went to live in Gloucester Street, a drab Street that is not brighter for being re-named Sean MacDermott Street—not so far as the eye perceives—but possibly it helps, for there are dreamers even in drab streets, and lame Sean MacDermott went very happily to face the firing squad on that May morning in 1916. In that drab street that did not then bear the patriot name, Matt Talbot found that necessity of the saints, quiet. He lived alone, a sister coming in to prepare his food and tidy up. From that time forward he was always to live alone, except for the last sixteen years of his mother’s life. His father died in 1899 when Matt was forty-three, and, dutifully, he gave his mother a home. That was when he lived at 18 Upper Rutland Street, to which he removed from Gloucester Street and in which he resided for the last twenty-five years of his life. He need not have lived alone. He was, from the day he stopped drinking, a steady man, in constant work, a neat, if shabby man, well enough looking, with fine eyes. There are plenty of good girls who would be glad of such a husband. Matt indeed met one of them. Those who related the story, as was proper, never told her name, but she was employed as a cook in a house to which Matt and other workmen were sent to carry out some repairs. She liked Matt, appreciated his quiet ways, and that she trusted him is evident from the fact that she told him of her liking and suggested marriage. She had money saved, she told him. We are grateful for that story. It gives us Matt as a woman saw him when he was still a vigorous man. It enshrines a picture of a shy man, a trustworthy man. Gravely Matt promised to consider the matter, and one can believe she accepted his answer with dignity. He had prayed, he told her, and he was not to marry. But her entrance had its value for us. Matt was not to marry. Nothing was to disturb the mode of life he had now settled, into. He was to continue the daily round of prayer and fasting, the austere days empty of comfort for body, filled with prayer, each day practically alike outwardly, but what of inward glory they brought is not known to us. Matt talked little of that life of his. Let us, however, watch him live a day of it. We will begin when he knocks off work. There were twenty-four hours in Matt’s day. In the timber-yard the whistle blows. Hastily Matt rushes to the little shed where he kept a change of clothes. He doffs his working garb quickly. He has an appointment with One whom he respects. He shows his respect. Out of the yard he goes and straight to the nearby Church of St. Laurence O’Toole to pray. Then home to 18 Upper Rutland Street, taking, probably the short cuts through very drab streets indeed. His sister has cocoa prepared and perhaps a bit of fish, but if it is one of Matt’s fasting times he takes nothing but cocoa and dry bread. That has already been his breakfast and his lunch. He does not go straight to table as a hungry man does. He goes on his knees, having first removed his jacket and had a wash. He prays and then, still kneeling, eats his meal. His sister leaves. He is alone, yet not alone. In prayer he converses with God. In books he shares the thoughts of the saints. For Matt, uneducated though he is, reads books that would deter many a widely-read person. He prays for light to understand what he reads and on scraps of papers or in note- books he roughly notes the things that strike him, writing them in schoolboy hand, in schoolboy spelling. They are a revelation to us of a mind in tune with the deeply spiritual. “In meditation, the mind labours, operating with its power, but in contemplation it is God Himself Who operates and the soul merely receives the infused gifts.” Did he recognise in those words a stage to which he had attained? And other words are written too—words that are the workingman’s reassurance of his place in the scheme of things. Nobody, he notes, has the right to starve the poor. We know he sought assurance of the justice of the workers’ fight in 1913 against a terrible display of the employers’ determination to break Trade Unionism. He got the assurance from a Jesuit priest. Thereafter he was not troubled by any doubt on that score. On another scrap of paper he writes words setting forth that true nobility derives from the Blood of Christ. How much of justice, of dignity, was in the mind that chose these things to make note of. His reading comprised Newman, Faber, St. Francis de Sales, St. Alphonsus Liguori and many other religious writers whose names convey nothing to the ordinary person. Many books he bought himself. His store was great. But he borrowed a lot also, so we do not really know the extent of his reading. That he always had friends who understood him is evident from the fact of those borrowings, and some of them have told of conversations in that humble room in which time passed on enchanted wings while the poor unlettered man spoke of God. Yet on the whole he talked little. He told an old friend of some of his early struggles of the first days of reform. He told of those days when he could not pray and of a Sunday morning when the demon of despair would not allow him to approach the altar but drove him out of Berkeley Road Church, out of Gardiner Street Church, to wander for three hours crazy with despair, and how at last he flung himself on the steps of Gardiner Street Church, with arms outstretched, caring nothing for people who stared. Peace came then and he went to receive his God. To people who forget that the mind is as real as the body the tragedy of that story will not be apparent, but tragic it is. Every night at 10.30 Matt went to bed to his plank couch with the wooden pillow and single blanket. He rose again at 2.30. He prayed till 4 o’clock. Then he lay down again until it was time to prepare for 5 o’clock Mass. In later years Mass was changed to 6.15 but Matt still went to Gardiner Street at 5 a.m., kneeling on the Church or Convent steps till the door was opened. Then he went in and, kneeling perfectly upright and unsupported, heard Mass and received Holy Communion. After his thanksgiving he went home to his cocoa and then on to work, leaving a margin of time that he might visit St. Laurence O’Toole’s on the way. He worked all day, and when there was an interval between loads he went into his shed to pray. If irreverent words were used he blessed himself, and if religion came up for discussion, or any part of Christian duty, he took a fearless stand. If the topic happened, he told stories of the saints, but he never made himself conspicuous as a champion of good. Two pins carelessly crossed on his sleeve were a reminder of days when his tongue was loose and he spoke sacred names without reverence. The pins were inconspicuous too— stuck there as if for use. Some of the men respected Matt’s horror of bad language. Others delighted to shock him. Matt simply stole away to recite the Divine Praises. He never wore his heart on his sleeve. He apparently had no particular spiritual director. A Jesuit is said to have known most of him, but he died before Matt, and though the latter was a Franciscan Tertiary and member of several Confraternities in Gardiner Street and St. Saviour’s, Dominick Street, he never drew any notice to himself. His charities were endless. His wages rose as the years passed till at last he had £3-1-6 per week. He spent the barest minimum on himself, the rest went to charity, always quietly, usually anonymously. The Missions were his pet charity; to spread the word of God most important of all works. So he moved through life, shabbily dressed, fasting, praying. He kept black fast every day in Lent, every day in June, in honour of the Sacred Heart, and other times. Nine months of his year was a fast time. He wore his chains, he slit the knees of his trousers lengthwise, so that it would not show, in order to kneel bare-kneed on the Church steps at morning. Most wonderful of all. He kept it up, day in, day out, all the years. Sunday was his great day, and his joy was to attend every possible Mass, returning home only when he had received the Benediction after twelve o’clock Mass. Then he ate the first meal of the day, the eternal cocoa. For sixteen years Elizabeth Talbot, widow, watched the manner of life of this son who had once been her cross. She woke at night sometimes in her bed in the corner of that humble room and fingering her beads watched quietly as Matt prayed, his arms outspread. At those times she saw his face filled with a light that made it other than the face she knew. She was not talkative, this pious woman. Few knew what went on in that poor room. Only the sisters, Susan and Mary (Mrs. Fylan and Mrs. Andrews) knew how their brother lived, and they, one gathers, were somewhat in awe of him. In 1915 Mrs. Talbot died, and here is a point worthy of notice. She was, as has been said, a member of a Confraternity in the Jesuit Church; that of the Immaculate Heart of Mary. After her death the spiritual director spoke to the members of her life, quoting it as exemplary. There is pleasure in the thought. Matt Talbot was to live alone once more, still carrying out his fixed programme of fasts and prayer, still distrustful of that body that had led him into drunkenness, still finding all his joy in God. Nineteen-sixteen came, Easter Week; while men fought, others looted, there was turmoil; the world of Dublin was upside down. But God does not change. A quiet figure made its way from Rutland Street to Dominick Street or Gardiner Street, caring little for military barricades. The same figure made its way to work and to Mass through all the alarms from 1918 to 1923. But the time was coming when the chain-laden body was to grow feeble, not perhaps because of its chains or its privations, but because man is mortal. The plank bed and the wooden pillow had led to partial deafness and one side of his face had become numb, when in 1923 he became ill and was admitted to the Mater Hospital in Eccles Street. He removed his chains before he went there. He had no wish to call attention to his fight with himself. He was very ill indeed and three days after admission received the Last Sacraments. His via dolorosa was not yet to end, however, for he recovered sufficiently to be allowed out of bed. At once he went to the chapel, there to spend all the time available in thanking God that he was spared to suffer more. In the hospital he never asked for any particular attention. When the priest came to give Holy Communion he received it, but he asked for no privileges—he whose life was the Sacrament of the Altar. No doubt, too, he accepted hospital diet without a word of his fasts, because even when in good health he took whatever was offered in the house of another, not caring to draw attention to himself. To eat what was given then became a sort of discipline in itself. Matt, in fact, was one of those gentlemen the working people of Dublin often produce. Are they producing less? You, young man, who possibly had a worthy father, where did you learn those words you use at the street-corner? And, child with the blue innocent eyes, who put on your lips those words that denote things too awful for you to realise? Alas, alas, fellow-citizens of Matt Talbot’s city, you bring horror into his streets. But the worthy citizens are there too—young and old. May all, worthy and unworthy, think at times of the quiet figure who kept his eyes to himself and possibly his ears as he went one June morning to keep a tryst with death. He had already heard Mass that Sunday morning and received Holy Communion, but, being now old and ill, he could no longer fast till 2 o’clock. He had therefore gone home to have his cocoa and had come out again at nine o’clock to attend further Masses. In Granby Lane, within sight of the Dominican Church of St. Saviour, he fell to the ground. When people ran to assist him he was dead. It is not a very unusual occurrence in cities, but the people were of course full of pity for the poor old fellow. A Corporation ambulance came and the body of an old man was taken to the mortuary of Jervis Street Hospital. There the Sisters of Mercy are in charge at the mortuary, and where nuns are, there is respect for every temple of the Holy Ghost whatever its condition. The poor clothes made no difference. A nun, Sister Ignatius, prepared the body for burial. As she cut off the poor clothes of this man who had no wish for better, and who was identified as Matthew Talbot, her scissors encountered a hard substance. Cause for wonder; the chains were exposed. Poor Matt, his secret was out—in the designs of God. A heavy rosary around the neck and medal attached to the chains spoke of some holy motive. Wisely the nun and her assistants decided that a statement of what they had found should be prepared and signed by two of them. It was done. The chains had worn into the flesh. The body was scrupulously clean. Reverently the last offices were done and three days later the funeral left Gardiner Street Church for Glasnevin. The end had come. But it was the beginning. People had been silent out of deference to Matt’s desire to be unknown. One of his friends, a man who had known him for a quarter of a century, happened to speak to Sir Joseph Glynn of the dead man. Sir Joseph was interested and became more so as the story unfolded. Matt Talbot’s friend suggested that this workman’s life, if written, might be productive of good. Sir Joseph Glynn wrote it, interviewing Matt’s surviving sister and many of his workmates. The simple story was written and since then, we, of the scribbling fraternity, have been interested, seeking new facts, striving to catch the full value of that life lived so humbly, so austerely. Now the scope of interest has widened. The great Catholic Church is thinking of that hidden life. Rome has heard of Matt Talbot and prayers go daily to heaven asking that if it be God’s Will Matt should one day wear the crown of sainthood. The most fervent of prayers go up front that room in 18 Rutland Street where visitors from many parts call to kneel before the crucifix there and pray that God may give this glory to the Irish working men, the glory of having produced a saint, and that, at least, we may all profit from the lesson he preached in his sixty-nine years of life, the lesson that to fall is human, to rise again a thing of divine grace, given only to those who strive and watch and pray. Few of us may attain to the heights that Matt attained, but we can try to walk near him and watch his homely face grow radiant as his mother saw it when he spoke to God. It will be radiant surely if that day comes when Mother Church hails her humble son as Blessed. In 1931, the Ordinary or Informative Process was begun by Most Rev. Dr. Byrne, the then Archbishop of Dublin, when witnesses, who had known Matt Talbot were questioned, on oath, on all relevant matters. In 1937, Rome having meantime examined the evidence tendered, a Papal Decree was signed formally introducing the Cause of Matt Talbot. Ten years later, in 1947, His Holiness the Pope signed the Latin Decree announcing that the Cause had been officially opened by the Sacred Congregation of Rites. In 1948 followed the next step, the opening of the Apostolic Process in Dublin and the examination, on oath, of forty witnesses. This evidence was also sent to Rome. In 1952, as part of the Apostolic Process, the remains were exhumed, in the presence of His Grace the Archbishop and many distinguished people and then sealed in a special double coffin and re-interred in the Gentili Vault in Glasnevin Cemetery. Now it remains for those many who desire to see Matt Talbot honoured by the Church to pray that Rome may declare him “of heroic virtue” and that God may grant miracles through his intercession. Let us pray.

PRAYER

O Jesus, true friend of the humble worker, Thou hast given us in Thy servant, Matthew, a wonderful example of victory over vice, a model of penance and of love for Thy Holy Eucharist, grant, we beseech Thee, that we, Thy servants, may overcome all our wicked passions and sanctify our lives with penance and love like his. And if it be in accordance with Thy adorable designs that Thy pious servant should be glorified by the Church, deign to manifest by Thy heavenly favours the power he enjoys in Thy sight, who livest and reignest for ever and ever. Amen.

(The above prayer, issued and approved by the Archbishop of Dublin, carries with it an indulgence of 100 days for each time recited.)

PROTESTATION

In obedience to the decree of Pope Urban VIII, the writer and publishers protest that all that is written in this book has no other authority or credit than such as is grounded on human evidence. Hence no expression or statement is intended to assume or forestall the decision of the Church. Nihil Obstat: Domnallus O’Lehane. Imprimatur: JACOBUS JOSEPH, Episcopus Ardachadinn et Cluanennis. ********