The Loyalist

"Isn't that remarkable?"

"It is remarkable," he repeated. "The French Ambassador has issued the invitations and all have signified their intentions of being present. Here is one of them." Taking from his pocket a folded paper, he handed it to Marjorie. She opened it at once and read aloud,

"Mr. Matthew Allison: – You are invited by the Minister Plenipotentiary of France to attend the Te Deum, which will be chanted on Sunday, the 4th of this month, at noon, in the new Catholic Chapel, to celebrate the anniversary of the Independence of the United States of America.

"Philadelphia, the Second of July. M. Gerard."

"The Congress going to Mass!" said his wife, apparently unable to comprehend fully the meaning of it all.

"The more one thinks of it the more strange it becomes. They branded Charles the First a Papist because he permitted his queen, who was born and bred a Catholic, to attend Holy Mass. Now we have our newly-formed government not alone countenancing Popery, but actually participating in a supposedly pagan and idolatrous form of worship."

"This marks the end of religious prejudice in this country," observed Marjorie. "At length all men are in all things equal, equal in the sight of God and man. Don't you think our leaders must realize this and are taking steps to prepare the minds of the people accordingly?"

"Yes," he replied, "and I don't know but what it is only right. We all go to the market together, trade our goods together, rub elbows together, clear the land together, fight together. Why shouldn't we live together in peace? Intolerance and bigotry are dead and buried. We have laid the foundations of the greatest country in the world."

"Thank God for that!" breathed Mrs. Allison.

"We are respected above all calculation," Mr. Allison continued. "Our Loyalty now is unquestioned."

"We may thank God for that, too."

"And Captain Meagher!" added Marjorie.

Her eyes beamed.

"Yes, you are right, girl," said her father. "We can thank Captain Meagher. The frustration and the exposure of that plot has increased our reputation an hundredfold. Heretofore, the Catholic population had been regarded as an insignificant element, but when the ambitions of the enemy to secure their coöperation were discovered, the value of the Catholics to the country suddenly rose."

"Our unity must have created a lasting impression," Marjorie remarked.

"Not alone our unity, but our loyalty as well. The government has learned that we have been ever true to the land of our birth, ever loyal to the country of our adoption. It has thoughtfully considered the value of our sacrifices, and has carefully estimated our contribution to the cause of freedom. When the charter of liberty assumes a more definite form our rights will specifically be determined. Of that I am reasonably certain. The enemy failed to allure us from our country in its time of need; our country will not abandon us in our time of need."

"Stephen did it," announced Marjorie.

"Stephen helped to do it," replied her father.

III

That same evening, during a stolen moment while her mother was busied with the turning of the buckwheat cakes, Marjorie crept to her father's knee and folded her arms over it.

"Daddy!" she looked up at him from her seated posture on the floor. "What would you say to a very eligible young man who had told you that he was very fond of you?"

"What would I say?" asked the father in surprise.

"Yes. What would you?"

"I would not say anything. I would have him examined."

"No, Daddy. This is serious," and she pushed his knee from her as she spoke.

"I am serious. If a man told me that he was very fond of me, I would question his sanity."

She laughed.

"You know what I mean. I mean if you were a girl and – "

"But I am not a girl."

"Well, if you were?"

"If I was what?"

"You know what I mean quite well. Would you hate him at first?"

"I hope not. I should want to strangle him, but I wouldn't hate him."

"And you would strangle him? For what?"

"For daring."

"Daring what?"

"You know."

He smiled.

"Oh, dear! Won't you listen to me? Tell me what to do."

"I could not tell you. You have not told me what has happened."

"I asked you what you would say to an attractive soldier who had told you that he loved you."

"Yes. And I told you that if he had told that to me, I would ask what ailed him."

"Oh, Daddy, you are too funny tonight. I can't reason with you."

She sat back on her heels and pouted.

He smiled and roused himself upright and put his arm around her and drew her to him.

"There! There! I know what you mean, daughter. It means that I shall have no say in the matter."

"Why?"

"You will do it all."

"No. I shall never leave you."

"Yes, you will. You will be happier. But why didn't Stephen ask me about it?"

"How did you know it was Stephen?" she looked at him in astonishment.

"Well enough."

"But how?" she repeated.

"I knew it all the time and your mother and I have been prepared for this occasion."

"But who told you?" Her eyes opened full and round in genuine wonder. Here was one surprise after the other.

"There was no need of any one telling me. I have been watching the pair of you, and sensed what the outcome would be some little while ago."

"But, Daddy. How should you know?"

He laughed outright.

"There! There! We are satisfied quite, I can assure you. I know what you are about to say; and your mother knows it too."

"But I have not yet told her. I meant to tell her today but did not. Then I thought of telling you and of whispering the whole story to her after we were upstairs."

She was serious, very serious, absorbed for the most part in her story although her mind was clouded with amazement at the want of surprise which was manifested. Her innocent mind apparently was unable for the time being to fathom the intricacies of this plot which seemed to be laid bare to every one concerned save her own self.

"Of course you will tell her, but you will find that she will consent to the proposal."

"What proposal?"

"Why, I suppose the proposal of your coming marriage."

"But!.. But!.. Daddy!.. I never said anything about marriage."

"You did start to tell me that Stephen told you he was very fond of you?"

"Yes."

"And you told him the same."

"No, I didn't."

"But you will tell him."

A hush followed. She looked askance at him from the corner of her eye.

"And so after you two have told one another as much as that you may as well decide upon the date."

"But … I … I am not sure that I want to marry him."

"Well, that is your privilege, you know."

"And… And … perhaps he will never ask me again."

"Just wait a bit."

"And would you marry him?"

"I told you that I would not. I already have one wife…"

"Oh! You make me lose all patience," she cried rising from the floor and leaving him. "I shall confide in mother."

"Remember," he cautioned her in a somewhat serious strain. "Do not ask her to marry him."

She was gone.

The following day a letter was dispatched to the Headquarters at Morristown, New Jersey. In the meantime a very large doubt began to take form in the mind of one little girl concerning the manner of its reception. A thousand and one impossible situations were conceived, but there seemed nothing to do; he must now do it all. The possibility loomed ghost-like before her: he might never return. The wound which she had caused still smarted and ached. He might never return. Her eyes wandered and strayed among the multitude of objects before them; her lips had forgotten their usual smile. He might fail to receive her note and if he did he might disdain to acknowledge it. But no! He would not do that. There was naught else to do but wait. Oh! if the moments would only hurry!

CHAPTER IV

I

It was a great day for Philadelphia when the Continental Congress went to Mass. It was Independence Day, too, but this was of lesser importance in the estimation of the people, especially of the Catholic portion of them. Fully a quarter before the hour, the bell began to sound and the streets became like so many avenues of commerce with people standing in doorways, or leaning from their windows, or hurrying with feverish haste in the direction of the New Chapel of St. Mary's, the parish church of the city. There a number of them congregated in twos or threes to await the procession of notables, who would soon approach with great solemnity and dignity from the opposite corner of the street.

The celebration came about in this manner:

It was the desire of M. Gerard, the Minister Plenipotentiary of France, to commemorate the anniversary day of the Independence of the United States in a religious manner. Arrangements already had been made to hold Divine worship earlier in the morning at Christ Church, at which the guests of honor were invited to be present. At twelve o'clock the congregation would march to the Church of St. Mary, where a military Mass and a solemn Te Deum would be sung. The Reverend Seraphin Bandol, chaplain to the French Embassy, would celebrate the Mass and deliver a sermon appropriate to the occasion.

It had been fondly expected that the event would assume an international tone. Events had been moving with extraordinary rapidity towards the establishment of the Roman Catholic religion in the graces of the government, and this celebration might demonstrate the patriotic motives of the Catholic body beyond the shadow of a doubt. That a Congress, which of late had condemned in the strongest terms the practices of the Roman Catholic religion, could change in sentiment and action in so short a time, would be an unequivocal proof of the countenance and good will which the Catholic religion was beginning to acquire. At any rate the example set by the governing body of the new republic attending Mass in a Roman Catholic edifice, offering up their devout orisons in the language, service and worship of Rome, would be a memorable one, an augury of the new spirit of religious freedom which later would be breathed into the Constitution of these same States by these same men.

Precisely at ten minutes before the hour they came, walking in pairs, headed by John Hancock, the President of the Continental Congress, and His Excellency M. Gerard, the French Ambassador. Immediately after the Congress, marched the Supreme Executive Council of Philadelphia with Joseph Reed at its head. Then came the French Embassy, resplendent in its dress of blue and gold. Prominent civilians, military officers, men of repute in city and nation, followed slowly along the crowded thoroughfare and as slowly made their way into the small edifice. General Washington was not present, having been prevented by duty in the field.

Within, the little church murmured with low talking. Ordinarily, the congregation would have been absorbed in silent contemplation before the Presence of the Divine One, but the impressiveness of the occasion made the people depart from their usual fervor. The little church was only partly filled when the great procession arrived and every head instinctively turned in the direction of the entrance at the sound of their many footsteps. As they marched down the aisle every breath was held; then as they began to file into the pews reserved for them, the subdued murmur began again.

Marjorie and her father sat to the rear of the church in the company of the early arrivals. In fact the entire Allison family occupied the same pew, pressed, indeed, for room on account of the multitude which crowded its way into the church and into the small aisles. Round about them on every side sat the congregation, some of whom were already familiar to them, the majority of whom, however, were total strangers. From their appearance and demeanor it was not difficult to conclude, Marjorie thought, that more than one-half of them were non-Catholic.

The inside of the church was adorned in splendid array with the emblems of France and the United States. In the sanctuary, on each side of the altar, stood two large flags of the allied nations, while across the choir gallery in the rear of the church, there stretched in festoons, the colors of the infant republic superimposed in the middle by a shield bearing the likeness of Louis XVI. On the altar bloomed a variety of cut flowers, arranged in an artistic and fanciful manner on the steps of the reredos amidst a great profusion of white unlighted candles. The three highest candlesticks on each side had been lighted, and the little tongues of living flame were leaping from them joyfully. Over the tabernacle a large crucifix raised aloft, while just before the door of the tabernacle rested the chalice with its white veil, arranged in the form of a truncated triangle, shielding it from view.

For several minutes after the honorable body had been seated there was a confusion of feet and forms as the members of the congregation surged into the church. The pews filled quickly, and the more tardy and less fortunate individuals sought places along the aisles and along the rear. Overhead the small organ gasped and panted the strains of a martial air, the uneven throbbing of its bellows emphasizing the fatigue and exhaustion of its faithful operator.

"Is that the French Ambassador?" whispered Marjorie to her father.

"With the brocade and lace. Yes. Next to him is Mr. Hancock, President of the Congress."

She looked and saw the noble head and dignified bearing of the statesman. He sat very erect and majestic, presenting an appearance of taste and refinement in his suit of silken black.

"There is Mr. Adams, John Adams, with the great powdered periwig. The tall thin man seated at his right is Thomas Jefferson, who wrote the Declaration. He is, without doubt, the scholar of the Congress."

Marjorie followed his whispering with evident interest. Never had she been in the company of such notable men.

"Who is that? See! He is turning sideways."

"Livingston. Robert Livingston. Then the great Robert Morris, whose financial aid made possible the continuance of the war. His personal sacrifice for the cause of independence will never be computed. He is Washington's best friend."

She peered through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the famous financier.

"Do not overlook our staunch Catholic member of the Congress, Charles Carroll. Lest he might be mistaken for any other man of the same name he made bold to affix after his name on the Declaration of Independence, 'of Carrollton.' A representative Catholic and a true patriot!"

She recalled this, having seen the name of "Charles Carroll of Carrollton" on the printed copy of the Declaration.

Mr. Allison again nudged his daughter with his elbow to attract her attention.

"Can you see that elderly man with the sharp-pointed features over across?" he asked.

She looked in the direction indicated but did not seem to be able to locate him.

"The second pew, third man from the aisle."

"Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed.

"That is Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, the author of the resolution 'That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.' That paved the way for the drawing up of the Declaration."

The makers of history were before her, and her eyes danced at their sober and grave demeanor. Here sat the Congress, not all of it, but a goodly portion of it, which had voted unanimously in favor of complete separation from the mother country. Here were those very men who had risked their all, their fortunes, their homes, their lives for their country's cause. Here they now assembled, visibly burdened with the cares and the apprehensions of the past few years, still uncertain of the future, but steadfastly determined to endure to the bitter end, either to hang together or to rise to glorious triumphs together. And here they sat or knelt in the temple of God to rededicate their fortunes to Him, to accept from His hands the effects of His judgments, but at the same time to implore Him to look with favor upon their efforts and to render possible of realization those desires which were uppermost in their hearts. Marjorie thought that they could not, they must not fail, they, who were animated by such sincere devotion and by such sentiments of genuine piety.

"Mr. Franklin isn't here?" she whispered.

"No," he softly answered. "I think he has not returned from France. He was there, you know, when the Alliance was concluded. Lafayette only joined Washington last month. Did you know that he brought with him a commission from the French King to General Washington, appointing him Lieutenant-General in the French army and Vice-Admiral of its navy?"

"No. I did not hear of it."

"I suppose Franklin is still over there. He would be here, although he himself is an atheist. He believes in no form of religious worship. I should not say that he is an atheist for he does believe in One God, but that is about all."

The murmur about the little church began to die away. Still the surging at the door continued until it seemed as if the small building would burst its sides with its great burden.

The tinkle of a little bell sounding from the door leading from the sanctuary announced that the Mass was about to begin. On the instant the congregation rose and remained standing until Father Bandol, preceded by the altar boys, had reached the foot of the altar and made the genuflection.

II

High up in the gallery the choir broke into the strains of the "Kyrie" of the Mass, while the priest in a profound bow before the altar made his confession of sins. Marjorie took out her prayer-book and began to follow the Mass, meditating upon the mysteries of Our Lord's life as commemorated in the Holy Sacrifice.

Ascending the altar, the priest passed at once to the right hand side where lay the Mass-Book, from which he read the Introit. He returned to the center and chanted in soft clear tones the "Gloria in Excelsis," the hymn of praise which the angels sang for the first time on Christmas night when Christ, the Lord, was born. This was taken up immediately by the choir. Meanwhile the congregation were seated during the singing of this hymn of praise to the Most High.

The prayers of the Mass, prayers for our rulers, prayers for peace were sung by the celebrant, the people kneeling in an attitude of prayer while their priest interceded to God in their behalf. Having finished the prayers for the people a Lesson from one of St. Paul's Epistles was read, after which the priest passed to the left side of the altar to sing a passage from the Gospel. The people now stood to profess their belief in the faith and teachings of Jesus Christ.

Marjorie and her father and mother recollected themselves quite during these solemn moments and no syllable of communication passed between them, all assisting at the service with prayer-books or beads, following every movement of the priest intelligently and with devotion.

The congregation were permitted to sit while the celebrant of the Mass offered the materials for the sacrifice, unleavened bread and the pure juice of the grape, to Almighty God, to adore Him above all other things, to thank Him for all the graces and blessings bestowed by Him on mankind, to satisfy His justice for the sins of man and to implore Him for whatever favors He might deign to bestow.

Soon the voice of Father Bandol resounded through the church with the opening tones of the Preface of the Mass, the responses to which were made by the members of the choir. Slowly and solemnly he chanted the notes of praise, ending with the "Holy, Holy, Holy, Lord God of Hosts." A sound from the bell gave the warning that the awful moment was about to arrive, the moment when the ambassador of Christ would exercise the power communicated to him from Jesus Himself through the Twelve and their successors, the power of changing the substance of bread and wine into the substance of the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ.

The people bent forward in an attitude of humble adoration. Marjorie buried her face in her hands on the top of the forward pew, pouring out her heart in praise and thanksgiving to her God and Master. In profound reverence she remained while the priest pronounced the mystical words "Hoc est enim corpus meum" over the species and effected the mystery of mysteries, the translation of Christ's Mystical Body to the elements of the earth, in the transubstantiation of the Mass. Now Her Lord was present before her; now the Divinity of His Person was but a few feet away, clothed, not in flesh and blood, but under the appearances of bread and wine; now Her Creator was with her, lying on the white corporal of the altar and she poured forth her soul to Him in accents of adoration and supplication.

"O my God!" she breathed. "I adore Thee through Jesus; I beg pardon through Jesus; I thank Thee through Jesus; I humbly ask every blessing and grace through Jesus. May I lead a holy life and die a good death. My Jesus! mercy! My Jesus! mercy! My Jesus! mercy!"

The prayers for the dead were read and the Pater Noster was chanted. A signal from the bell announced that the priest's communion was about to take place and that the distribution of the Sacred Body would be made to as many as desired to partake of it. It was Sunday and the majority of the Catholics present had been in attendance at an earlier Mass, on which account there were no communicants at this later one. The closing ceremonies were concluded with the reading of the Gospel of St. John, when Father Bandol turned towards the congregation to begin his address. Every member present sat upright in his seat and awaited the message which was about to fall from the lips of the priest.

III

"My dear brethren," he said, "we are assembled to celebrate the anniversary of that day which Providence had marked, in His eternal decrees, to become the epoch of liberty and independence to the thirteen United States of America."

There was a silence throughout the church which was breathless. Every eye was focused on the vested form before the altar.

"That Being whose almighty hand holds all existence beneath its dominion undoubtedly produces in the depths of His wisdom those great events which astonish the world and of which the most presumptuous, though instrumental in accomplishing them, dare not attribute to themselves the merit. But the finger of God is still more peculiarly evidenced in that happy, that glorious revolution which calls forth this day's festivity. He hath struck the oppressors of a free people – free and peaceful, with the spirit of delusion which renders the wicked artificers of their own proper misfortunes.

"Permit me, my dear brethren, citizens of the United States, to address you on this occasion. It is that God, that all powerful God, who hath directed your steps; who, when you were without arms fought for you the sword of justice; who, when you were in adversity, poured into your hearts the spirit of courage, of wisdom, and fortitude, and who hath, at length, raised up for your support a youthful sovereign whose virtues bless and adorn a sensible, a fruitful and a generous nation."

The French Ambassador bowed his head in profound acquiescence.

"This nation hath blended her interest with your interest and her sentiments with yours. She participates in all your joys, and this day unites her voice to yours at the foot of the altars of the eternal God to celebrate that glorious revolution which has placed the sons of America among the free and independent nations of the earth.

"We have nothing now to apprehend but the anger of Heaven, or that the measure of our guilt should exceed His mercy. Let us then prostrate ourselves at the feet of the immortal God, who holds the fate of empires in His hands, and raises them up at His pleasure, or breaks them down to dust. Let us conjure Him to enlighten our enemies, and to dispose their hearts to enjoy that tranquillity and happiness which the Revolution we now celebrate has established for a great part of the human race. Let us implore Him to conduct us by that way which His Providence has marked out for arriving at so desirable an end. Let us offer unto Him hearts imbued with sentiments of respect, consecrated by religion, humanity and patriotism. Never is the august ministry of His altars more acceptable to His Divine Majesty than when it lays at His feet homages, offerings and vows, so pure, so worthy the common offerings of mankind.

"God will not regret our joy, for He is the author of it; nor will He forget our prayers, for they ask but the fulfillment of the decrees He has manifested. Filled with this spirit, let us, in concert with one another, raise our hearts to the Eternal; let us implore His infinite mercy to be pleased to inspire the rulers of both nations with the wisdom and force necessary to perfect what He hath begun. Let us, in a word, unite our voices to beseech Him to dispense His blessings upon the counsels and the arms of the allies and that we may soon enjoy the sweets of a peace which will soon cement the Union and establish the prosperity of the two empires."

The same religious silence prevailed; indeed there sat many in the same immovable posture. But it was evident that the words were being received with pleasure and satisfaction. Signs of approval appeared on every face.

"It is with this view," the priest concluded, "that we shall cause that canticle to be chanted, which the custom of the Catholic Church hath consecrated, to be at once a testimonial of public joy, a thanksgiving for benefits received from heaven, and a prayer for the continuance of its mercies."

IV

He had done. As he stepped to the floor of the sanctuary and took his stand before the center of the altar a pronounced disturbance, accompanied by much coughing, made itself manifest. This was followed by a great rumble as the entire congregation rose to its feet to await the intonation of the Te Deum.

Pleasant and sweet rose Father Bandol's voice above the rustling in the opening notes of that most majestic of all hymns of praise:

"Te Deum laudamus: te Dominum confitemur."

And immediately the vast throng took up the melody and there reverberated throughout the church, escaping through the open doors and windows, across the streets and over the roof-tops, up to the topmost regions of the heavens, to the very gates of heaven itself, the strains of the Ambrosian hymn of thanksgiving and praise which the members of the American Congress sang to the God of Nations and of Battles in the little chapel of St. Mary's on the anniversary day of the signing of the greatest exposition of a freeman's rights ever penned by the hand of man.