bear, accepted it and did a splendid work for the Church. I think one can think of a subject that hurts one till the mind loses its perspective and proportion. There is so much to bless God for and to satisfy one's spiritual nature in the Church that one can afford to leave these disturbing things to those whose duty it is to deal with such questions as the Encyclical. It must have seemed when Galileo was condemned as if there was an end for Catholics of all scientific research. In St. Bernard's time it seemed as if Catholics could never read Aristotle, yet within a century he became the backbone of scholasticism. Look at those who break away in bitterness and impatience, and be sure humility, patience, and silence in the long run bring peace and victory. I write in great haste. The two following letters deal chiefly with questions of social life and intercourse. In them Father Maturin showed his sympathetic understanding of the difficulties to be faced in modern social life. The old barriers of reserve and convention that are now on the ground were, at that time, already tottering. To a young woman of strong character and high aspirations it seemed the noble and generous thing to help in their overthrow, to go out perfectly fearlessly into the new world, tilting against the old conventions and oppressions that had hedged women about in the last centuries. Father Maturin could sympathise very strongly with this point of view, but he feared the spirit of reaction. He wanted to save all that was best in the old ideals. He feared the loss of the positive Christian ideal of womanhood amid the negation of the artificial limits built up by society. ΙΟ August 17, 1892. The difficulties that arise in social life are very great, I know, and often one can't be led so much by clearly defined rules or reasons as by instinct. I may not be able to give any reason why I feel that such or such a person is to be avoided, but I feel it and know it. I think it's the same with company, and forms of society, as with individuals, and I think a woman's true instinct doesn't often mislead her. I quite understand and have full sympathy with the reaction from the narrow lines and party distinctions that used to be the chief guides for social intercourse. They were often artificial and many of them wrong-but, remember, reaction has its danger of running into the opposite extreme. We may protest against what was bad in the past in such a way as to create another evil, and perhaps a worse evil in some ways. What we really want to do is to protest against all that was bad, and mend it, and to leave whatever was good. I myself feel that the two great guides that will keep one safe in many a difficult question, as to where one ought to go and whom one ought to know, are charity and moral distinctions. I am sure one has no right to expect oneself to be kept safe when one goes anywhere or knows anyone simply for the sake of shocking narrow people's prejudices. We shall never remove prejudice by shocking it. And I am equally sure one will not get any harm, or do any harm, by going anywhere, or knowing anyone, for charity's sake. Then one will, quite unconsciously, break down all prejudice; the artificial and arbitrary distinctions of society give way before a broader and a stronger principle, and with the true sense of brotherhood or sisterhood one can go almost anywhere. But, then, we have to show our disapproval of wrong, and sometimes, often, I think, the only way one can show it is by avoiding those who are openly or deliberately violating the great moral principles. I am sure one can often cling on to a friend who has gone utterly wrong, for the sake of helping her, but even then there may come a time when one feels' no, I am getting harm and doing no good.' There came the time when Samuel would see Saul no more-there comes the time when great public men part on some question of principle, and every one respects such partings; they have nothing of the Pharisee about them. I think in a mere matter of business there is not necessarily any question of character, but in such personal relations as taking a favour, it is really an act of friendship, and I cannot think it would be right to take a favour of a person whom one would not make one's friend. What you say about many whom you know thinking you a fool not to take all you can get from anyone is just that low and unworthy tone one wants to protest against, at least in act, and to raise others out of by showing a more attractive and a truer standard. My feeling would be to cut a man who had ruined any friend of mine ! As to the other point. I think one may go anywhere that duty calls one, but to be able to go to some places one must be clear that it is duty. I can quite fancy-indeed, I am entirely conscious of the exciting pleasure of doing risky things. But at the same time I do not think one is justified, unless under the call of duty, in going where one sees what shocks one's moral sense. Why should one? It may not be a question of wrong or right in itself, yet it may for other reasons be unadvisable, for the sake of others, for the sake of a certain indefinable beauty that passes away when one is able to look calmly on evil, or even when one knows of certain kinds of evil. The protection which innocence gives passes away with knowledge. I mean, though things may, so far from being a temptation to oneself, be positively hateful, yet still the constant sight of what's bad takes away the bloom from the soul. Though it may not be wrong, then, I do think it would be better to keep away from places that are not nice. I have written you a very long letter ! II To the Same January 8, 1893. In regard to the special virtue of purity, I think one finds amongst good people three classes: First there are those who have been protected from knowing anything about that kind of evil; they go through life and come in contact with a great deal of wrong in others and do not see it; their eyes have never been opened to know evil. Then there are those who know all about it, and whose one effort is to keep their own garments clean; who see it indeed, and often see more than there really is, but keep themselves apart. I think this is one class of your friends in Paris, and I confess they are not the kind that commend themselves to me. Then there are those who know, perhaps, all that is to be known, and who know also that the best protection is to go out towards the contaminated to help them, or to show at least they don't despise them, however much they make it felt that the evil is an evil and a thing to be abhorred. I do not think the class of person of whom you speak, who uses her models, etc., but sees or feels evil everywhere and so keeps clear of it all except for work, I do not think she is innocent by any means. Innocency comes in contact with evil and doesn't know it; it baffles temptation; it is protected where no one else is. If you ask me which is the most admirable-such a person, or one who knows all that is to be known, and has had perhaps her own time of fierce conflict and come out strong and pure, longing to help others and surely able to help them-I answer, I think it is impossible to compare them, either in themselves or the effect of their lives upon others. You could no more compare them than you could compare St. Paul and an angel. St. Paul's is the rugged strength that has been gained in the battlefield, and his sympathy is that strong, tender, human feeling that opens the door of every heart, because it has come to him as the fruit and reward of life. He did not do anything or study anything to get it, it was not to be learned by observation or from books; it was the outcome of a life that strove to be true, and had to fight and suffer for truth. But as you feel the thrill and power of his words and the consciousness of his strength, you do not feel that if you could see and speak to an angel he would have less power to help his help would be of a different kind, but it would be very inspiring and very strong. So I think those who have lived and been, by God's grace, kept from the knowledge of evil, are not by any means necessarily weak or undeveloped. They may be so, they may be merely grown up children; but why should they not have learnt the lessons of life through other experiences-suffering, for instance, or sorrow, or cruel treatment. If you would compare a girl such as you describe, who knows about wrong and tries now in one way now another to give a helping hand |