which will be enjoyed in seeing God. In him will be found all the richness of gold, the delightfulness of the meadows, the sweet refreshment of the limpid stream, the brightness of the sun, the beauty of the heavens, the fragrance of the rose, all that can be admired and enjoyed. Every one shall then rejoice as much in the felicity of another as in his own ineffable joy, and shall possess as many joys as he shall find companions." So that while even the presence of God on earth was but to lead men to a love of things invisible, as St. Thomas Aquinas says in the divine prayer of the church, "ut dum visibiliter Deum cognoscimus, per hunc in invisibilium amorem rapiamur," all visible objects of beauty were to direct the mind to its Creator and its future destiny. Specta mare," says St. Ambrose, terram circumspice, ut opere facta divino omnis creatura te pascat. Quæ formarum gratia in ipsis bestiis! quantus decor in hominibus ! quanta in avibus pulchritudo! hæc intuere et non videbis iniquitatem." So says St. Augustin, "qui fecit omnia, melior est omnibus, pulcrior est omnibus. Quicquid amaveris, ille tibi erit. Disce amare in creaturâ Creatorem, et in facturâ factorem, ne teneat te quod ab illo factum est, et amittas eum à 66 66 66 quo et ipse factus es *." Quis ornavit cœlum sideribus," says another great divine, "aerem volucribus, aquam piscibus, terram plantis et floribus? Quid sunt hæc omnia, nisi Dei pulcritudinis modica scintilla +?" So when Lewis of Grenada is describing the change which takes place in the views which men entertain of the natural world when they have been converted to a life of piety, he says, they see all things now with other eyes, and they feel such motions and changes within as are strong proofs of every article of faith. If the nights are clear, with their eyes cast up to heaven they admire its beauty and the brightness of the moon and stars, considering them quite differently from what they used to do, and much more cheerfully; they look on them as so many mirrors of his glory, as so many messengers that come to bring them news of him, and they think upon those noble troops of saints who are more bright and glorious than the stars of heaven." As Plato saith, “The love which we have here In Psal. xxxix. † S. Bonaventura I. in Soliloq. below is as a remembrance of the first fair sovereign, and most pure of all beauties, which is the Divinity. Our soul," continues Caussin, "hath a generous passion towards him, unless it be infected by the breath of the serpent, and obstructed by vapours of sensuality; it seeks for Him; it speaks to Him in all creatures; it beholdeth Him in all the beautiful objects of nature, but it often falleth out that it forgetteth the workman in admiring his workmanship; it takes the shadow for the body; it feeleth there is some invisible hand which shoots arrows at it amidst the vermilion of roses and the whiteness of lilies. O how attractive is beauty! O should it on a sudden be seen without the veil, the whole world, in an instant, would dissolve under its adorable rays. It is so naturally imprinted on the heart of man that hell itself cannot forget it. The evil rich man did from thence lift up his eyes to heaven as desirous to look for the lovely face which he had eternally lost *." "Hæc est plena beatitudo, et tota glorificatio hominis, videre faciem Dei sui, videre eum qui fecit cœlum et terram, videre eum, qui fecit eum, qui salvavit eum, et qui glorificavit eum. In this consists all the everlasting glory of the happy t. Holy men were even permitted to enjoy a foretaste of this bliss while on earth. Hear St. John Damascene. "St. Josephat being in profound prayer, prostrate upon the earth, was overtaken with a sweet sleep, in which he saw two men of grave demeanour, who carried him through many unknown countries to a field full of flowers and plants of rare beauty, laden with fruit never before seen. The leaves of the trees moved with a soft and gentle wind, yielded a pleasant sound, and breathed forth a most sweet odour; there were placed many seats of gold and precious stones, and a little brook of crystal water refreshed the air, and pleased the sight with a most agreeable variety. From thence he was brought into a most beautiful city, whose walls, towers, and battlements, were of gold. The streets and squares shone with beams of celestial light, and there passed up and down bright armies of angels and seraphims, chaunting such songs as were never heard by mor tal ears." This was a shadow of heaven. Surius writes *Holy Court. † St. August. Solilo. cap. 36. in the life of St. Nicholas Tolentine, " that for six months before his death, he heard every night, a little before matins, most melodious music of angels, in which he had a taste of that sweetness which God had prepared for him in his glory, and such joy and comfort did he receive from hearing it, that he was wholly transported, desiring nothing more than to be freed from his body to enjoy it." From all this it appears how sublime and full of present happiness was the system of religion to which chivalry owed its elevation. Notwithstanding the awful solemnity. of its doctrines, it was clothed in all the lovely and engaging colours that could attract the eye of man; and though productive of a soft and gentle tone of melancholy, there was nothing of horror or despondency in its nature. It was a theology which, while it trained René d'Anjou to be the father of his people, fostered the muse of Dante, and yielded those beautiful fruits which entitled the pages of Lewis of Grenada to be ranked among the prime glories of the literature of Spain. Theology with the moderns assumes the character of a dry and uninviting study, synonymous with whatever is most repugnant to the aspirations and sentiments of the young; but in the schools of our ancestors it introduced men to a beautiful and happy world, where the imagination enjoyed sublime visions, and where the heart found rest. The Church invited men to approach to the altar of God, to God who gave joy to their youth; for even before the cross the Psalmist had said, "Memor fui Dei, et delectatus sum." Hence a Christian orator concludes, after speaking on the dignity and excellence of theological study, "O hebetes et stupidos, aut, ut verius dicam, miseros et perditos, si qui harum rerum suavitatem, fructumque non sentiunt: contra vero, o ter et quater beatos illos quorum ita est affectus animus, ut nusquam suavius, quam in his studiis conquiescat; non eos aut inanium dignitatum, aut fluxarum opum adurit sitis: non eos voluptatum illecebræ molliunt: liberi et pravis omnibus cupiditatibus soluti, ex illo perenni puteo aquam æternæ vitæ effectricem hauriunt: ex illis perpetuo virentibus campis flores suavissimos colligunt, ex quibus qui odores afflantur eorum nunquam est intermoritura suavitas *." * Antonii Mureti Orat. I. XXIII. But it is time to retrace our steps. Upon the whole, the conclusion seems to be this, that piety is inseparable from the true bent of honour. "There is no thing narrow, nothing of slavery, nothing confined in religion; it is the immense, the infinite, the eternal." The high sentiments of honour, the generous enthusiasm of chivalry, so far are these from being contrary to its influence, that they confirm and exalt it. "Imagination soars above the limits of the present life, and the sublime in every subject is a reflection from the Divinity." Fenelon, who certainly cannot be accused of a worldly dis-` position in his views of religion, was of this opinion, and in writing to the Countess of Gramont, upon the recovery of her husband from a dangerous illness, he expresses himself in remarkable terms, which sanction the spirit of chivalrous devotion. "This restoration to good health," he observes," is indeed delightful; it is the gift of God, and it would be unjust to employ it against him. The count must pursue an open line of conduct, and full of honour towards God as well as towards the world. God is pleased to accommodate himself to noble sentiments: true nobility requires fidelity, firmness, and confidence. Will a man who is so grateful to the king for the gift of perishable good, will he be ungrateful and faithless to God who bestows so much? I can never believe it." And the virtuous instructor of the Duke of Burgundy had acted upon the same principle. "Je promets, foi de prince," was the form of engagement to which the pupil subscribed, and which Fenelon was accustomed to impose when he had occasion to desire an adherence to a particular duty. The child of eight years of age was made to comprehend the force of these words, " foi de prince et d'honneur." The very mirror of all martial men could not have a more delicate sense of honour than has been shewn by the saints. When the murderers rushed into the church at Canterbury, crying out "Where is the traitor?" no one answered till another cried "where is the archbishop?" St. Thomas then advanced towards them, saying, "Here I am, the archbishop, but no traitor." "When we are Christians," says Fenelon, "we can no longer be cowards. The essence of Christianity, if I may so express myself, is the contempt of this life and the love of another." Holy men have remarked that we find the names of more soldiers recorded in the martyrologies than almost of any other profession. There is in fact a natural connection between heroism and piety. When Philip entered Peloponnesus, at the head of his army, it was said that the Lacedemonians would have to suffer much if they did recover his favour. "Ah, coward!" replied the Spartan, "what have they to suffer who fear not death?" The answer of the poet's hero to the praises of his sister, who commended him for his deed, is remarkable. Θεοὺς μὲν ἥγου πρῶτον, Ηλεκτρα, τύχης And upon the memorable retreat from Syracuse, when the Eurip. Electra, 885. + Lib. VII. 77. || Plato Protagoras. most Polit. VIII. 4. |