Belloc's "Charles II" (or "The Last Rally: A Story of Charles II")

This is the fifth historical character study by Hilaire Belloc I've read. Mysterium Press has sent me their handsome hardcover editions for my opinions on each: Wolsey, Cranmer, Charles I, and Cromwell, and now Charles II. (I also have James II in queue.) The cover of each book features a striking portrait of the subject, with a tag line that offers a great summing up of Belloc's theme for each man:

Wolsey: "The cardinal who unwittingly steered England to its ruin" [and specifically, regrettably steered the Catholic Church in England to its ruin]

Cranmer: "The archbishop who helped destroy England's founding faith"

Charles I: "The king who stood for liberty and lost his head for it"

Cromwell: "The killer of the king and the butcher of the Irish"

Charles II: "The king who pitted monarchy against money"

and 

James II: "The last king of England's ancient monarchy"

You can see the covers of the entire "Hilaire Belloc English Histories Collection" here. In the USA, these books are available from Os Justi Press. It's kind of surprising that Belloc did not write a study of the other Cromwell, Thomas. You can find his analysis of "The true creator of the English Reformation" (my idea of a tag line) in Characters of the Reformation!

In each of these books I've been impressed by Belloc's political and strategic acumen; his sympathy for the challenges and struggles each man faced; his effort to be honest and straight-forward in his analysis of how their backgrounds and education prepared them for their most crucial decisions and actions; his careful judgment of their strengths and weaknesses--and all those strengths are present this book, which was first published with the title The Last Rally: A Story of Charles II in 1939. 

Belloc adds the ground of a beautiful metaphor to the structure of this book: the young, exiled Prince of Wales's love of being on the sea, captaining a ship, struggling with the elements, winning the battle, and returning to port. That metaphor is expressed in many chapter titles (and remember that Belloc loved sailing too!):

1. The Last Rally
2. The Task
3. The Formation
4. The Annealing
5. First Grasp of the Helm
6. The Fair Run
7. The Fleet and Empire
8. The Sunken Reef
9. The Triangle
10. Gathering Storm
11. Whiggery
12. The Women
13. Full Gale: The Popish Plot
14. Hurricane and Harbor
15. Drop Anchor

An elegant feature in this book.

Throughout this series, the great theme is power: how to get it, how to hold it, and how to lose it. Each man achieves power either by inheriting it (Charles I--with the honorable mention of his father James I and VI--and his heirs Charles II and James II) or by talent, opportunity, and influence (Wolsey, Cranmer, and Cromwell). The variable of this theme is how Charles II tried to restore the power of the monarchy in England after the English Civil War, the Interregnum and Protectorate. As Belloc explains:

As I dealt in my former book with the leading case of Louis XIV of France as a monarch standing up to the Money Power (and, upon the whole, successfully), so in this book I deal with the parallel and complementary case of his contemporary and first cousin, Charles II, Stuart King of England.

He also found himself faced by that unescapable conflict between the Money Power and Monarchy; but, unlike his cousin Louis, Charles failed. The Money Power was too much for him. So long as he lived he managed to fend it off though not to tame it; but immediately after his death, in the less competent hands of his brother James (the last real and active King of England, as also the last by hereditary right), Monarchy went down. (p. 1)

One of the important early chapters is "The Annealing". Annealing is a term of art in metallurgy. This website provides a good, not-too-technical definition: "the process of heating a metal to a high temperature and then cooling it slowly. The slow cooling allows the crystalline structure to settle into a lower-energy, more stable configuration. Fast cooling (quenching) locks in stress and brittleness; slow cooling produces resilience." Applied to human experience, it is "the analogous process by which competing patterns of action gradually resolve into a stable configuration." 

Belloc proposes that from age 17 to 30, Charles, the exiled Prince of Wales, went through this annealing process as he struggled to make his claim to the throne of England after his father's execution and during the Commonwealth and Protectorate. He developed his characteristic responses to danger, decision, and success.

During this struggle, Charles attempted to gain the throne in Scotland, at least, by making a covenant with the Kirk. It included renouncing the Church of England, the Anglican doctrine and structure his late father had held so firmly. He was crowned the King of Scotland and then faced the English military response. In the midst of that struggle, and the subsequent military defeat he and the Scots suffered at Worcester, he met Father John Huddleston, a Catholic priest, and read a book of Catholic apologetics and was convinced it taught the Truth. Of course, we know that he did not follow up on that conviction until on his deathbed, because the restoration of the monarchy in England was his main goal.

Belloc is careful about weighing this dichotomy in Charles's behavior, just as he is in examining Charles's pattern of unfaithfulness to his wife, Catherine of Braganza. He describes how Charles never succumbed to any influence of his mistresses and made sure that his wife was respected, at least outwardly, at Court. It seems the two women who had the most influence on his Court and Reign were Anne Hyde, the Earl of Clarendon's daughter and his brother James, the Duke of York's wife, and his sister Minette (Henrietta Anne, Duchess of Orléans), King Louis XIV's sister-in-law--both through their Catholicism. Minette influenced him in signing the Treaty of Dover, in which he promised to convert to Catholicism at some point.

Another great issue was the conflict with Parliament over funding the government, especially the British Navy to protect trade. This problem led Charles to negotiate for funds with King Louis of France and to triangulate three foes: Louis, Holland, and Parliament against one to another as needed. To Belloc, here Charles succeeded, however briefly, to attain true Royal power and authority. Belloc also notes throughout his discussions of the conflict between King and Parliament that the House of Commons was not at all representative of the population of England and not even of the men who had the privilege to vote in Parliamentary election in proportion to city and county size and commercial etc. influence.

Belloc expresses the greatest condemnation of Charles's behavior in the course of the Popish Plot, especially when he allowed William Howard, 1st Viscount Stafford (a Blessed martyr and grandson of Saint Philip Howard) and Oliver Plunkett (a Sainted martyr) to be executed when the Popish Plot had been exposed as a lie. It is Belloc's opinion that the Popish Plot "gave the deathblow to Catholicism in England." (p. 225). Belloc avers that even as he acknowledges the change in the Catholic legal position in England, the English converts from Newman in 1845 until his own day, and the influx of Irish Catholics. If he is paying attention to matters now, I wonder what he thinks about Catholic revival in England, especially vis-a-vis the Church of England.

In some ways it seems that Belloc expresses greater concern for the triumph of the Monarchy in English government than he does for Charles's dedication to his conscience and the truth of Catholicism. It's one way, of course, that Belloc avoids the accusation of letting his own Catholic faith influence his historical analysis of Charles II's character and reign. I don't think he is betraying his Faith but he is upholding his general thesis in each of these books that a strong executive is essential in governance of a nation. Writing as he was in the age of Roosevelt, Mussolini/Victor Emmanuel, and Hitler (not that I'm suggesting any similarity between Roosevelt and the others--although I do recall that Alistair Cooke stated in his America that FDR basically ignored the Constitution of the United States in his implementation of The New Deal), one can see his concern for the balance of power.

His narration of Charles's deathbed conversion is moving, of course, but the reader knows that the hereditary monarchy would soon fail during James II's reign, especially once the Catholic convert King and his Catholic wife would have a Catholic son and heir. (Belloc had published his study of James II in 1928--this book was published in 1939.)

As usual, Mysterium Press presents a excellent edition of Belloc's work and I appreciate the publisher sending me these copies in exchange for my opinion of them. 

I'll be reading and reviewing James II next.

Saints Peter and Paul: Poetry from Keble and Newman

Monday, June 29 is the Solemnity of Saints Peter and Paul (the third weekday Solemnity this June here in the USA). We'll discuss John Keble's poem on "Saint Peter's Day" and glance at a poem or two on Saint Paul written by Saint John Henry Newman on the Son Rise Morning Show.

Keble's poem is inspired by a verse from the First Reading on the Solemnity: "When Herod would have brought him forth, the same night Peter was sleeping". Acts 12:26:

Thou thrice denied, yet thrice beloved,
Watch by Thine own forgiven friend;
In sharpest perils faithful proved,
Let his soul love Thee to the end.

The prayer is heard—else why so deep (5)
His slumber on the eve of death?
And wherefore smiles he in his sleep
As one who drew celestial breath?

He loves and is beloved again—
Can his soul choose but be at rest? (10)
Sorrow hath fled away, and Pain
Dares not invade the guarded nest.

He dearly loves, and not alone:
For his winged thoughts are soaring high
Where never yet frail heart was known (15)
To breathe its vain Affection’s sigh.

He loves and weeps—but more than tears
Have sealed Thy welcome and his love—
One look lives in him, and endears
Crosses and wrongs where’er he rove: (20)

That gracious chiding look, Thy call
To win him to himself and Thee,
Sweetening the sorrow of his fall
Which else were rued too bitterly.

E’en through the veil of sheep it shines, (21)
The memory of that kindly glance;—
The Angel watching by, divines
And spares awhile his blissful trance.

Or haply to his native lake
His vision wafts him back, to talk (22)
With Jesus, ere His flight He take,
As in that solemn evening walk,

When to the bosom of His friend,
The Shepherd, He whose name is Good.
Did His dear lambs and sheep commend, (25)
Both bought and nourished with His blood:

Then laid on him th’ inverted tree,
Which firm embraced with heart and arm,
Might cast o’er hope and memory,
O’er life and death, its awful charm. (30)

With brightening heart he bears it on,
His passport through this eternal gates,
To his sweet home—so nearly won,
He seems, as by the door he waits,

The unexpressive notes to hear (35)
Of angel song and angel motion,
Rising and falling on the ear
Like waves in Joy’s unbounded ocean.—

His dream is changed—the Tyrant’s voice
Calls to that last of glorious deeds— (40)
But as he rises to rejoice,
Not Herod but an Angel leads.

He dreams he sees a lamp flash bright,
Glancing around his prison room—
But ’tis a gleam of heavenly light (45)
That fills up all the ample gloom.

The flame, that in a few short years
Deep through the chambers of the dead
Shall pierce, and dry the fount of tears,
Is waving o’er his dungeon-bed. (50)

Touched he upstarts—his chains unbind—
Through darksome vault, up massy stair,
His dizzy, doubting footsteps wind
To freedom and cool moonlight air.

Then all himself, all joy and calm, (55)
Though for a while his hand forego,
Just as it touched, the martyr’s palm,
He turns him to his task below;

The pastoral staff, the keys of Heaven,
To wield a while in grey-haired might, (60)
Then from his cross to spring forgiven,
And follow Jesus out of sight. 

At first, Keble addresses Our Lord to aid Saint Peter in Herod's jail. Then Keble depicts Saint Peter dreaming of his life with Jesus: how Jesus called him to be His disciple; his denying of Christ thrice; Jesus looking at him after the third denial; the walk near the lake after the Resurrection. Saint Peter even dreams of his own martyrdom but then "turns . . . to his task below" as pastor and holder of the keys.

If we have time on Monday, June 29, we'll look at this poem by Newman, which also recounts a dream: his dream of meeting Saint Paul in answer to a prayer. Newman wrote this poem during his fateful Mediterranean voyage:

97. St. Paul

{168} I DREAM'D that, with a passionate complaint,

I wish'd me born amid God's deeds of might;

And envied those who had the presence bright

Of gifted Prophet and strong-hearted Saint,

Whom my heart loves, and Fancy strives to paint.

I turn'd, when straight a stranger met my sight,

Came as my guest, and did awhile unite

His lot with mine, and lived without restraint.

Courteous he was, and grave,—so meek in mien,

It seem'd untrue, or told a purpose weak;

Yet, in the mood, he could with aptness speak,

Or with stern force, or show of feelings keen,

Marking deep craft, methought, or hidden pride:—

Then came a voice,—"St. Paul is at thy side."

Off Sardinia. June 20, 1833. Earlier during this Mediterranean trip, Newman had written, referring to Acts 28:3: 70. St. Paul at Melita (Malta) {128} "And when Paul had gathered a bundle of sticks, and laid them on the fire, there came a viper out of the heat."  SECURE in his prophetic strength,     The water peril o'er, The many-gifted man at length     Stepp'd on the promised shore. He trod the shore; but not to rest,     Nor wait till Angels came; Lo! humblest pains the Saint attest,     The firebrands and the flame. But, when he felt the viper's smart,     Then instant aid was given; Christian! hence learn to do thy part,     And leave the rest to Heaven. Messina. February 8, 1833.

Saints Peter and Paul, pray for us!

Image source (Public Domain): Saints Peter and Paul ca. 1616 by Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652)

English Lawyer Saints in the June "Magnificat"

Every month, the Magnificat prayer book features a sequence of Catholic saints, beatified and canonized, in a certain category (educators, social workers, parents, etc). 

In June the theme is "Saints Who Studied Law." Of course, one saint that could be included in the series (on days that are not Solemnities--and there a quite a few in June that do not occur on Sundays!) is Saint Thomas More. But he's not included because the prayers and readings for Mass are for his optional memorial with Saint John Fisher today, and the meditation for the day is from one of his Tower prayers--and there's another regular column by Anne Burleigh in which he's highlighted. 

(Last year, Magnificat featured Saint Paulinus of Nola's memorial; the year before when featuring the prayers for More and Fisher, Saint John Fisher was emphasized.)

But of those featured in the June series, four of them are English saints: of those four, three are martyrs:

On p. 89, Saint Thomas Becket, Bishop and Martyr +1170 (December 29 feast day)

On p. 143, Saint Thomas de Cantelupe (aka Saint Thomas of Hereford), Bishop +1282 (August 25 feast day)

On p. 183, Blessed John Storey, Layman and Martyr +1571 (June 1 feast day)

On p. 289, Blessed Richard Langhorne, Layman and Popish Plot Martyr +1679 (July 14 feast day)

And a fourth martyr, Blessed Dermot O'Hurley, Irish Bishop tortured and martyred by Elizabethan authorities +1584 (June 20 feast day) is connected with the English effort to extirpate Catholicism from the realm.

Of course, the space for these stories is limited, but I did think--and I sent an email to the editors--that the one on Blessed John Storey should have been clearer about the kind of "important positions" he "was granted" during Mary I's reign. I'm sensitive to this because I've been accused of skipping over this issue myself on this blog, although I've posted these details at least twice:

In August of 1533, Storey and his family returned to England after Edward VI died and Mary, Henry VIII and Katherine of Aragon’s Catholic daughter succeeded to the throne in spite of the attempt to supplant her by the Protestant Lady Jane Grey. Story went back to Oxford as Regius Professor of Law but then took on important duties in the revived Catholic Church, serving as Chancellor for the dioceses of London and Oxford, and Dean of the Arches, the ecclesiastical court of the Archbishop of Canterbury. In his role as Chancellor for the Bishop of London, Edmund Bonner, he took part in heresy trials. He also served as proctor or representative for Queen Mary I at the trial of Thomas Cranmer in Oxford and joined efforts to control the publication of heretical books in several dioceses.

When Mary I and Reginald Pole, Archbishop of Canterbury, died on November 17, 1558, Storey, like other Catholics in England, waited to see what direction Elizabeth I would take in religion. Her first Parliament began to introduce bills leading to the establishment of the Church of England, and John Storey found himself under attack for his opposition and for his work during Mary I’s reign. In May of 1560 he was arrested and imprisoned in the Fleet, from which he escaped briefly, being recaptured and taken to Marshalsea Prison in April or May of 1562. He escaped from Marshalsea before he could be confronted with the taking of Elizabeth I’s Oath of Supremacy and fled again to Louvain, leaving everything he owned behind in England. His family joined him in exile again and the Duke of Alba offered him financial assistance and a position as a customs official. John Storey renounced his allegiance to Elizabeth I and placed himself in the service of Philip II of Spain, ruling in the Spanish Netherlands. He remained there for seven years.

Elizabethan authorities tracked him down, kidnapped him, and brought him back to England to face trial for treason: he argued he was loyal to his sovereign, Philip II, but was condemned anyway. The execution was brutal, especially for a 70-year old man, because it was conducted in angry revenge (not justice). Blessed John Storey, pray for us!

Preview: John Keble on Saint John the Baptist

Monday, June 22 is the feast of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More (and Saint Paulinus; both are optional memorials in the USA; the Anglican Ordinariate celebrates Fisher and More with a Liturgical Feast). It's no surprise that the Anglican minister John Keble DID NOT write a poem celebrating them, but he did write a poem about another great martyr, Saint John the Baptist. The Feast of the Nativity of the Saint John the Baptist is celebrated on June 24, so we'll discuss this poem on the Son Rise Morning Show on Monday, June 22.

As I noted six years ago on the National Catholic Register blog, Henry VIII had two decisions to make: first, would he commute the death sentence to the less brutal beheading, instead of what had been pronounced after he'd been found guilty of treason?:

John Cardinal Fisher, the former Bishop of Rochester — Henry VIII had stripped him of that title — was sentenced to death on June 17, 1535. The sentence pronounced against him brought a flush of color to his sunken cheeks, eyewitnesses remarked. As a traitor, he would be drawn to the place of execution on a hurdle, hanged, cut down still alive and then endure vivisection. Finally his head would be cut off and his body would be divided into four parts: Henry VIII would decide where his head and his quarters would be displayed. In other words, he would be hanged, drawn, and quartered.

Henry VIII did commute that sentence: the Cardinal Bishop would merely suffer beheading.

The second decision: when to carry out the sentence?:

Henry VIII faced a dilemma with the selection of Fisher’s execution date as the great feast of the Nativity of St. John the Baptist was approaching on June 24; the Vigil of his Feast was celebrated solemnly too. Since Bishop Fisher had once cited St. John the Baptist as his model in the defense of marriage, beheading him on that that day wouldn’t do.

So Saint John Fisher was beheaded on June 22, the feast of the first English martyr, St. Alban.

In this poem, John Keble focuses on the link between Elijah the Prophet and Saint John the Baptist and the Church's constant need for prophets to proclaim the truth, inspired by verses from the Book of the Prophet Malachi:

Behold, I will send you Elijah the prophet before the coming of the great and dreadful day of the Lord: and he shall turn the heart of the fathers to the children, and the heart of the children to their fathers. Malachi iv. 5, 6.

As the Angel told Zechariah in the Temple, his son John would "convert many of the children of Israel to the Lord their God. And he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elias; that he may turn the hearts of the fathers unto the children, and the incredulous to the wisdom of the just, to prepare unto the Lord a perfect people." (Luke 1:16-17) Then Zechariah repeated that promise in the "Benedictus": "And thou, child, shalt be called the prophet of the Highest: for thou shalt go before the face of the Lord to prepare his ways: To give knowledge of salvation to his people, unto the remission of their sins . . ." (Luke 1:76-77) 

That's what Keble is praying for in this poem for "Saint John Baptist's Day" as he weaves together the stories of St. Elijah and St. John, appealing to pastors in the Church through these nine stanzas:

Twice in her season of decay
The fallen Church hath felt Elijah’s eye
Dart from the wild its piercing ray:
Not keener burns, in the chill morning sky,
The herald star,
Whose torch afar
Shadows and boding night-birds fly.

Methinks we need him once again,
That favoured seer—but where shall he be found?
By Cherith’s side we seek in vain,
In vain on Carmel’s green and lonely mound:
Angels no more
From Sinai soar,
On his celestial errands bound.

But wafted to her glorious place
By harmless fire, among the ethereal thrones,
His spirit with a dear embrace
Thee the loved harbinger of Jesus owns,
Well-pleased to view
Her likeness true,
And trace, in thine, her own deep tones.

Deathless himself, he joys with thee
To commune how a faithful martyr dies,
And in the blest could envy be,
He would behold thy wounds with envious eyes,
Star of our morn,
Who yet unborn
Didst guide our hope, where Christ should rise.

Now resting from your jealous care
For sinners, such as Eden cannot know,
Ye pour for us your mingled prayer,
No anxious fear to damp Affection’s glow,
Love draws a cloud
From you to shroud
Rebellion’s mystery here below.

And since we see, and not afar,
The twilight of the great and dreadful day,
Why linger, till Elijah’s car
Stoop from the clouds? Why sleep ye? Rise and pray,
Ye heralds sealed
In camp or field
Your Saviour’s banner to display.

Where is the lore the Baptist taught,
The soul unswerving and the fearless tongue?
The much-enduring wisdom, sought
By lonely prayer the haunted rocks among?
Who counts it gain
His light should wane,
So the whole world to Jesus throng?

Thou Spirit, who the Church didst lend
Her eagle wings, to shelter in the wild,
We pray Thee, ere the Judge descend,
With flames like these, all bright and undefiled,
Her watch-fires light,
To guide aright
Our weary souls by earth beguiled.

So glorious let thy Pastors shine,
That by their speaking lives the world may learn
First filial duty, then divine,
That sons to parents, all to Thee may turn;
And ready prove
In fires of love,
At sight of Thee, for aye to burn.

As Wordsworth wrote in "London, 1802"--"Milton! thou shouldst be living at this hour:/England hath need of thee: . . .We are selfish men;/Oh! raise us up, return to us again;", Keble looks for someone like Saint Elijah or Saint John to revive the religious and moral spirit of the Church. I'm not sure what Keble means by the "season of decay" of the "fallen Church" or what two events he has in mind in the first stanza. Keble's pastoral concern is that the Church needs new prophets to encourage greater Christian love and fervor today.

As Keble traces the connections between the two saints in Heaven, he notes the contrast between them: Elijah was taken to Heaven in the whirlwind and chariot of fire, while John was imprisoned and martyred by beheading. He does refer to the scene of the Visitation, when John leapt in Elizabeth's womb at the presence of the Savior in His Mother's womb (Star of our morn,/Who yet unborn/Didst guide our hope . . .).

Keble wants Saint John to inspire a greater missionary fervor among Christians, to raise the "Saviour’s banner" and lead "the whole world to Jesus"--and he looks to the Holy Spirit to inspire the Pastors of the Church through "their speaking lives" (through example not just words) to guide families in greater duty and love, even in "fires of love" burning forever.

I think that Keble has too many images and parallels to balance throughout the poem with fires and eagles and clouds, but his zeal is obvious.

The zeal of Saints John Fisher and Thomas More was just as obvious in 1535! May they intercede for us on their feast and and every day to be as true and faithful! 

Surprised by Beauty: Fanny Price and Anne Elliot

From an article by Dr. Kathleen Sullivan on the Benedictine College Media & Culture website, discussing Jane Austen's Mansfield Park:

[When Henry Crawford has set himself the challenge of making Fanny Price, the novel's heroine fall in love with him just for the fun of it and is startled by the good sense of one of her remarks,] "he begins to see her in a new light.":

This light shines more brightly when Fanny’s older brother William, on leave from the Navy, visits Mansfield Park. Animated by affection for her brother, “the glow of Fanny’s cheek, the brightness of her eye, the deep interest, the absorbed attention … was a picture which Henry Crawford had moral taste enough to value. … [He] was as much struck with it as any” (Austen 159). Henry is struck by the beauty of a sister’s selfless love for her brother; he is moved by Fanny’s fitting and right admiration of William’s courage and other virtues. At this moment, Henry realizes that Fanny’s beauty resides not in her physical traits but in her character and heart. An epiphany occurs to Henry; Austen’s narrator writes of his realization: “She had feeling, genuine feeling. It would something to be loved by such a girl. … She interested him more than he had foreseen” (159). The more he observes her, the more he respects her “steadiness and regularity of conduct,” her “high notion of honour,” her “observance of decorum,” and her “faith and integrity” (199). This encounter with beauty – the visible form of the good[6] – moves Henry’s heart in a surprising way; soon enough, he realizes he has fallen in love with her. Tony Tanner writes that Henry “finds he is seriously attracted to [Fanny], drawn … by a quality and depth of sincerity he has never known” (Tanner 154). Although initially aiming to wound Fanny’s heart in a temporary acting role as amusement for himself, Henry Crawford surprisingly chooses to take on a permanent role: he decides to propose marriage to her.[7]

This reminded me of a passage in Chapter XII from Persuasion, in which a transformation has taken place in Anne Elliot, and her erstwhile suitor, Captain Wentworth, notices:

When they came to the steps, leading upwards from the beach, a gentleman, at the same moment preparing to come down, politely drew back, and stopped to give them way. They ascended and passed him; and as they passed, Anne’s face caught his eye, and he looked at her with a degree of earnest admiration, which she could not be insensible of. She was looking remarkably well; her very regular, very pretty features, having the bloom and freshness of youth restored by the fine wind which had been blowing on her complexion, and by the animation of eye which it had also produced. It was evident that the gentleman, (completely a gentleman in manner) admired her exceedingly. Captain Wentworth looked round at her instantly in a way which shewed his noticing of it. He gave her a momentary glance, a glance of brightness, which seemed to say, “That man is struck with you, and even I, at this moment, see something like Anne Elliot again.”

Please note that I wrote my Master's Thesis on Persuasion so this parallel came to my mind immediately. 

Notice that in both cases, it is through the encounter with other men that Crawford and Wentworth see something different in Fanny and Anne: in both cases, it is in their eyes, animated and bright. Fanny and Anne are Austen's "dullest" heroines according to some critics: they don't have the sparkle of Elizabeth Bennet, Emma Woodhouse, or even the Dashwood sisters. Sullivan refers to Tony Tanner's discussion of Fanny in her essay, as he considers her too goody-goody in a way.

Of course, the parallel ends when the heroine finds happiness with her hero: Crawford is still not worthy of Fanny. Anne and Captain Wentworth are reconciled and marry happily after he is persuaded that she still loves him after having broken off their engagement so many years ago!

Image Source (Public Domain): Watercolour of Jane Austen by her sister Cassandra, 1804

Preview: Keble on the Angels of God and "One Sinner that Repenteth"

On Monday, June 15, we'll continue our summer series on the Son Rise Morning Show as we examine and explicate the liturgical poetry of John Keble, the Anglican minister and friend of Saint John Henry Newman. I selected this poem from The Christian Year for the Third Sunday After Trinity because Keble and Newman shared this devotion to the Angels of God, and particularly, each Christian's Guardian Angel.

The Verse that inspired the poem: "There is joy in the presence of the angels of God over one sinner that repenteth." (St. Luke 15:10)

The first six stanzas describe the general effects of sin on Christian souls, as thoughts of past sins can be oppressive and divisive. Their consciences will not let them find rest anywhere, because their angels urge them to acknowledge their sins and repent:

O hateful spell of Sin! when friends are nigh,
To make stern Memory tell her tale unsought,
And raise accusing shades of hours gone by,
To come between us and all kindly thought!

Chilled at her touch, the self-reproaching soul
Flies from the heart and home she dearest loves,
To where lone mountains tower, or billows roll,
Or to your endless depth, ye solemn groves.

In vain: the averted cheek in loneliest dell
Is conscious of a gaze it cannot bear,
The leaves that rustle near us seem to tell
Our heart’s sad secret to the silent air.

Nor is the dream untrue; for all around
The heavens are watching with their thousand eyes,
We cannot pass our guardian angel’s bound,
Resigned or sullen, he will hear our sighs.

He in the mazes of the budding wood
Is near, and mourns to see our thankless glance
Dwell coldly, where the fresh green earth is strewed
With the first flowers that lead the vernal dance.

In wasteful bounty showered, they smile unseen,
Unseen by man—but what if purer sprights
By moonlight o’er their dewy bosoms lean
To adore the Father of all gentle lights?

Then Keble addresses an individual sinner, perhaps reading this verse from Saint Luke, to urge her to repent for the sake of relieving God's angel's "grief and shame" and because, once she has repented, she will "be turned" and she will be "fearless" and won't have to "shudder at the Eye that saw" her sin but receive a "dearest welcome" from "the angels of God" as her heart changes:

If such there be, O grief and shame to think
That sight of thee should overcloud their joy,
A new-born soul, just waiting on the brink
Of endless life, yet wrapt in earth’s annoy!

O turn, and be thou turned! the selfish tear,
In bitter thoughts of low-born care begun,
Let it flow on, but flow refined and clear,
The turbid waters brightening as they run.

Let it flow on, till all thine earthly heart
In penitential drops have ebbed away,
Then fearless turn where Heaven hath set thy part,
Nor shudder at the Eye that saw thee stray.

O lost and found! all gentle souls below
Their dearest welcome shall prepare, and prove
Such joy o’er thee, as raptured seraphs know,
Who learn their lesson at the Throne of Love.

As an Anglican, Newman wrote a poem about Angels too, not doubting their existence, but wondering about how well he can perceive their influence on his life, sinful and fallen as he is:

31. Angelic Guidance

{73} ARE these the tracks of some unearthly Friend,

His foot prints, and his vesture-skirts of light,

Who, as I talk with men, conforms aright

Their sympathetic words, or deeds that blend

With my hid thought;—or stoops him to attend

My doubtful-pleading grief;—or blunts the might

Of ill I see not;—or in dreams of night

Figures the scope, in which what is will end?

Were I Christ's own, then fitly might I call

That vision real; for to the thoughtful mind

That walks with Him, He half unveils His face;

But, when on earth-stain'd souls such tokens fall,

These dare not claim as theirs what there they find,

Yet, not all hopeless, eye His boundless grace.

Whitchurch (in Shropshire). December 8, 1832.

Also among his Verses on Various Occasions, Saint John Henry Newman wrote a personal reflection on his "Guardian Angel", reflecting on how he'd been accompanied throughout his life, from his baptism, through his youthful rebellion, during his conversion to Catholicism ("To place me under Mary's smile,/And Peter's royal feet!")--with the hope that his Angel will be there on his deathbed. The last two stanzas definitely anticipate The Dream of Gerontius (1865)!

{300} MY oldest friend, mine from the hour

When first I drew my breath;

My faithful friend, that shall be mine,

Unfailing, till my death;

Thou hast been ever at my side;

My Maker to thy trust

Consign'd my soul, what time He framed

The infant child of dust.

No beating heart in holy prayer,

No faith, inform'd aright,

Gave me to Joseph's tutelage,

Or Michael's conquering might.

Nor patron Saint, nor Mary's love,

The dearest and the best,

Has known my being, as thou hast known,

And blest, as thou hast blest. {301}

Thou wast my sponsor at the font;

And thou, each budding year,

Didst whisper elements of truth

Into my childish ear.

And when, ere boyhood yet was gone,

My rebel spirit fell,

Ah! thou didst see, and shudder too,

Yet bear each deed of Hell.

And then in turn, when judgments came,

And scared me back again,

Thy quick soft breath was near to soothe

And hallow every pain.

Oh! who of all thy toils and cares

Can tell the tale complete,

To place me under Mary's smile,

And Peter's royal feet!

And thou wilt hang about my bed,

When life is ebbing low;

Of doubt, impatience, and of gloom,

The jealous sleepless foe. {302}

Mine, when I stand before the Judge;

And mine, if spared to stay

Within the golden furnace, till

My sin is burn'd away.

And mine, O Brother of my soul,

When my release shall come;

Thy gentle arms shall lift me then,

Thy wings shall waft me home.

The Oratory. 1853.

Learning Something New, Again: The Origins of a Famous Hymn

Pope Pius XI instituted the Solemnity of Christ the King in 1925 (we covered it last year during the Son Rise Morning Show survey of anniversaries). In the last paragraphs of Quas Primas, he outlined the fruits of the celebration of this new feast and devotion:

30. We would now, Venerable Brethren, in closing this letter, briefly enumerate the blessings which We hope and pray may accrue to the Church, to society, and to each one of the faithful, as a result of the public veneration of the Kingship of Christ.

31. When we pay honor to the princely dignity of Christ, men will doubtless be reminded that the Church, founded by Christ as a perfect society, has a natural and inalienable right to perfect freedom and immunity from the power of the state; and that in fulfilling the task committed to her by God of teaching, ruling, and guiding to eternal bliss those who belong to the kingdom of Christ, she cannot be subject to any external power. The State is bound to extend similar freedom to the orders and communities of religious of either sex, who give most valuable help to the Bishops of the Church by laboring for the extension and the establishment of the kingdom of Christ. By their sacred vows they fight against the threefold concupiscence of the world; by making profession of a more perfect life they render the holiness which her divine Founder willed should be a mark and characteristic of his Church more striking and more conspicuous in the eyes of all.

32. Nations will be reminded by the annual celebration of this feast that not only private individuals but also rulers and princes are bound to give public honor and obedience to Christ. It will call to their minds the thought of the last judgment, wherein Christ, who has been cast out of public life, despised, neglected and ignored, will most severely avenge these insults; for his kingly dignity demands that the State should take account of the commandments of God and of Christian principles, both in making laws and in administering justice, and also in providing for the young a sound moral education.

33. The faithful, moreover, by meditating upon these truths, will gain much strength and courage, enabling them to form their lives after the true Christian ideal. If to Christ our Lord is given all power in heaven and on earth; if all men, purchased by his precious blood, are by a new right subjected to his dominion; if this power embraces all men, it must be clear that not one of our faculties is exempt from his empire. He must reign in our minds, which should assent with perfect submission and firm belief to revealed truths and to the doctrines of Christ. He must reign in our wills, which should obey the laws and precepts of God. He must reign in our hearts, which should spurn natural desires and love God above all things, and cleave to him alone. He must reign in our bodies and in our members, which should serve as instruments for the interior sanctification of our souls, or to use the words of the Apostle Paul, as instruments of justice unto God. (Romans 6:13) If all these truths are presented to the faithful for their consideration, they will prove a powerful incentive to perfection. It is Our fervent desire, Venerable Brethren, that those who are without the fold may seek after and accept the sweet yoke of Christ, and that we, who by the mercy of God are of the household of the faith, may bear that yoke, not as a burden but with joy, with love, with devotion; that having lived our lives in accordance with the laws of God's kingdom, we may receive full measure of good fruit, and counted by Christ good and faithful servants, we may be rendered partakers of eternal bliss and glory with him in his heavenly kingdom.

What I remember most about the celebration of this feast when I was growing up here in the USA is homilies starting with the idea that we US citizens might have trouble understanding the concept of kingship, used as we are to an elected, not hereditary, executive, etc. But reading this article from the Adoremus bulletin by John William Davis demonstrated a far greater insight from a German-born priest in Saint Louis, Missouri in the lates 1930's/early 1940's. As Davis explains, it was another encyclical by Pope Pius XI that inspired Father Martin B. Hellriegel (1890-1981):

Far away in the little Baden neighborhood of St. Loius (sic), MO, an American community settled by Germans on the banks of the Mississippi, a parish priest was composing a song that would strike the Nazi a blow from which they would never recover. Father Martin Hellriegel, a German immigrant and pastor to several communities in the St. Louis, MO area, considered the rise of racial nationalism in his former homeland. As Hellriegel read in the 1937 papal encyclical of Pius XI, Mit brennender Sorge (With Burning Anxiety), the only Encyclical ever issued in the German language, the Pope outlined how Germans had lost their way. . . . The new German paganism maintained “revelation” was not God’s word to man, but suggested rather the triumph of a master race over lesser peoples. The Pope further noted that to suggest—as the Nazi did of Hitler—that even the greatest of men was on a par with Christ, our Savior from sin and death, would be to make that man a “Prophet of Nothingness.”

As the rest of the article explains Father Hellriegel brilliantly chose a familiar hymn tune, ICH GLAUB AN GOTT, and wrote clear, simple lyrics to remind his German congregations to Whom they owed true loyalty and fidelity:

To Jesus Christ, our Sov'reign King,

Who is the world's salvation,
All praise and homage do we bring,
And thanks and adoration.

Refrain:
Christ Jesus Victor, Christ Jesus Ruler!
Christ Jesus, Lord and Redeemer!

2. Thy reign extend, O King benign,
To ev'ry land and nation,
For in Thy kingdom, Lord divine,
Alone we find salvation.
(Refrain)

3. To Thee and to Thy Church, great King,
We pledge our hearts' oblation,
Until before Thy throne we sing,
In endless jubilation.
(Refrain)

Please read the rest of the article there. It seems to me that Father Hellriegel applied paragraphs 31 through 33 of Quas Primas very well to his hymn.

Preview: Keble's Poem on Trinity Sunday

On June 1 Anna Mitchell and I started our series on John Keble's The Christian Year, commenting on how much Saint John Henry Newman appreciated Keble's humility, simplicity, and purity. Newman also remarked on how Keble's poetry elucidated "the Sacramental system; that is, the doctrine that material phenomena are both the types and the instruments of real things unseen" which I think we can see in this poem on the Doctrine of the Holy Trinity. So on Monday, June 8, Anna or Matt and I will discuss this poem and how Keble deals with this great theological mystery on the Son Rise Morning Show near the end of the show's national broadcast.

As the Reverend William G. Most wrote:

Perhaps the deepest, the most profound of all mysteries is the mystery of the Trinity. The Church teaches us that although there is only one God, yet, somehow, there are three Persons in God. The Father is God, the Son is God, the Holy Spirit is God, yet we do not speak of three Gods, but only one God. They have the same nature, substance, and being. 

Keble begins by praying to the Holy Trinity as he celebrates this Sunday after the seasons of Lent and Easter:

Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide,
Now on Thy mercy’s ocean wide
Far out of sight we seem to glide.

Help us, each hour, with steadier eye
To search the deepening mystery,
The wonders of Thy sea and sky.

The blessèd Angels look and long
To praise Thee with a worthier song,
And yet our silence does Thee wrong.—

Along the Church’s central space
The sacred weeks, with unfelt pace,
Hath borne us on from grace to grace.

He turns from the mysteries of the Passion, Resurrection, Ascension, and Pentecost celebrated during those "sacred weeks" to the experience of Nature as an entrance to a hidden shrine: those mysteries lead to this one:

As travellers on some woodland height,
When wintry suns are gleaming bright,
Lose in arched glades their tangled sight;—

By glimpses such as dreamers love
Through her grey veil the leafless grove
Shows where the distant shadows rove;—

Such trembling joy the soul o’er-awes
As nearer to Thy shrine she draws:—
And now before the choir we pause.

The door is closed—but soft and deep
Around the awful arches sweep,
Such airs as soothe a hermit’s sleep.

From each carved nook and fretted bend
Cornice and gallery seem to send
Tones that with seraphs hymns might blend.

Keble suggests an analogy in the structure of the shrine:

Three solemn parts together twine
In harmony’s mysterious line;
Three solemn aisles approach the shrine:

Yet all are One—together all,
In thoughts that awe but not appall,
Teach the adoring heart to fall.

But there's a problem: some travellers don't even seek the shrine but are too busy to notice the "flowers . . . showers . . . bowers" that would guide them to the shrine:

Within these walls each fluttering guest
Is gently lured to one safe nest—
Without, ’tis moaning and unrest.

The busy world a thousand ways
Is hurrying by, nor ever stays
To catch a note of Thy dear praise.

Why tarries not her chariot wheel,
That o’er her with no vain appeal
One gust of heavenly song might steal?

Alas! for her Thy opening flowers
Unheeded breathe to summer showers,
Unheard the music of Thy bowers.

What echoes from the sacred dome
The selfish spirit may o’ercome
That will not hear of love or home!

Keble laments the sins and faults that keep us from loving God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit:

The heart that scorned a father’s care,
How can it rise in filial prayer?
How an all-seeing Guardian bear?

Or how shall envious brethren own
A Brother on the eternal throne,
Their Father’s joy, their hopes alone?

How shall Thy Spirit’s gracious wile
The sullen brow of gloom beguile,
That frowns on sweet Affection’s smile?

And the poem ends with prayer:

Eternal One, Almighty Trine!
(Since Thou art ours, and we are Thine,)
By all Thy love did once resign,

By all the grace Thy heavens still hide,
We pray Thee, keep us at Thy side,
Creator, Saviour, strengthening Guide!

As ever with poetry, it's important to read this out loud to hear the rhymes and rhythms, the alliteration and patterns of repetition, even the pauses designated by dashes and periods, etc. You might note a slight echo of Andrew Marvell's "To His Coy Mistress" ("Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near") in stanza 14: "Why tarries not her chariot wheel", and that there are 21 stanzas of rhymed triplets--you can do the math.

From "The New Criterion": Shakespeare's Plays and His Creed (?)

It may be behind a paywall for non-subscribers, so I apologize, but I found this archived article (a review by Paul Dean of A Will to Believe: Shakespeare and Religion by David Scott Kastan) at The New Criterion fascinating because of this paragraph:

The law compelled Shakespeare to be ingenious and allusive, even if he had not been so by nature. The representation of liturgical services onstage was forbidden; indeed, the reformers routinely denounced the Mass as a species of play-acting. Such condemnations looked back to the medieval cycle plays with their medley of scriptural, patristic, legendary, and folkloric traditions, their range of tones and moods welcoming everything from the exalted to the scatological and farcical. It was these plays that Shakespeare experienced as a live theatrical tradition when he saw them at Coventry as a teenager; his use of the Bible and the prayer book is colored by this more eclectic heritage. The plays are equally distorted by those who seek a Protestant or Catholic bias, for there were many varieties of each, and drama thrives on dialectical debate. “Whether the Reformation was motivated from above or below,” Kastan comments, “it was, in either case, incomplete.” Arguably it was complete only with the expulsion of the Catholic James II in 1688 and his replacement, at the invitation of Parliament, by the Dutch Protestants William and Mary.

Arguably? Since other changes in the Book of Common Prayer and Church of England doctrine and liturgy (both and after the Tractarian movement) continued to occur, I think one could argue about that.

And this comment, offering a perfect example of litotes:

Elizabeth I’s religious temper was famously enigmatic; candles burned on the altar in her private chapel, to the scandal of many, and she kept her most Puritan Archbishop of Canterbury, Edmund Grindal, under virtual house-arrest, yet she was no friend to Roman Catholics.

The abstract of the book from Oxford Academic describes A Will to Believe thus:

On 19 December 1601, John Croke, then Speaker of the House of Commons, addressed his colleagues: “If a question should be asked, What is the first and chief thing in a Commonwealth to be regarded? I should say, religion. If, What is the second? I should say, religion. If, What the third? I should still say, religion.” But if religion was recognized as the “chief thing in a Commonwealth,” we have been less certain what it does in Shakespeare’s plays. Written and performed in a culture in which religion was indeed inescapable, the plays have usually been seen either as evidence of Shakespeare’s own disinterested secularism or, more recently, as coded signposts to his own sectarian commitments. Based upon the inaugural series of the Oxford-Wells Shakespeare Lectures in 2008, this book offers a thoughtful, surprising, and often moving consideration of how religion actually functions in them: not as keys to Shakespeare’s own faith but as remarkably sensitive registers of the various ways in which religion charged the world in which he lived. The book shows what we know and can’t know about Shakespeare’s own beliefs, and demonstrates, in a series of wonderfully alert and agile readings, how the often fraught and vertiginous religious environment of Post-Reformation England gets refracted by the lens of Shakespeare’s imagination.

Within the review of Kastan's book, Dean also refers to two other books also from Oxford University Press: The Bible in Shakespeare by Hannibal Hamlin and Shakespeare's Common Prayers: The Book of Common Prayer and the Elizabethan Age by Daniel Swift.

Image Credit (Public Domain): The Plays of William Shakespeare, a painting containing scenes and characters from several plays of Shakespeare; by Sir John Gilbert, c. 1849.(Notice that Henry VIII is the most dominating and entirely portrayed figure! Compare it to the Apotheosis of Shakespeare's Characters, 1871 from the Yale Center for British Art by the same artist: Henry VIII is in in the upper left, much less dominating!)

Preview: John Keble's "The Christian Year" on the Son Rise Morning Show

Anna Mitchell of the Son Rise Morning Show suggested we start a series on a work by a man who influenced Saint John Henry Newman in his "religious opinions" (as he called them in his Apologia) before he became a Catholic: John Keble, Anglican minister, holder of the Poetry Professorship at Oxford from 1831 to 1841, and preacher of the "National Apostasy" sermon that launched the Oxford Movement in 1833. 

So we'll start on Monday, June 1 to explore the text of The Christian Year, Keble's book of verse reflecting on the liturgical year of the Church of England.

The Book of Common Prayer, in its various iterations from the time Thomas Cranmer first composed and arranged it, maintained a liturgical calendar of seasons (Advent, Christmas, Lent, and Easter, etc.) based on Catholic tradition. Our current "Ordinary Time" is called "Trinity" with numbered Sundays until Advent. Certain feast days, like St. Stephen, St. John, and the Holy Innocents after Christmas were maintained; commemorations like the Gunpowder Treason, King Charles the Martyr, Restoration of the Royal Family, were added. There are also poems about Anglican sacraments (Baptism, Confirmation, Holy Communion, etc), reflecting the High Church aspects of the Oxford Movement as its leaders understood them.

We'll start with his Dedication:

When in my silent solitary walk,
   I sought a strain not all unworthy Thee,
My heart, still ringing with wild worldly talk,
   Gave forth no note of holier minstrelsy.

Prayer is the secret, to myself I said,
   Strong supplication must call down the charm,
And thus with untuned heart I feebly prayed,
   Knocking at Heaven’s gate with earth-palsied arm.

Fountain of Harmony!  Thou Spirit blest,
   By whom the troubled waves of earthly sound
Are gathered into order, such as best
   Some high-souled bard in his enchanted round

May compass, Power divine!  Oh, spread Thy wing,
   Thy dovelike wing that makes confusion fly,
Over my dark, void spirit, summoning
   New worlds of music, strains that may not die.

Oh, happiest who before thine altar wait,
   With pure hands ever holding up on high
The guiding Star of all who seek Thy gate,
   The undying lamp of heavenly Poesy.

Too weak, too wavering, for such holy task
   Is my frail arm, O Lord; but I would fain
Track to its source the brightness, I would bask
   In the clear ray that makes Thy pathway plain.

I dare not hope with David’s harp to chase
   The evil spirit from the troubled breast;
Enough for me if I can find such grace
   To listen to the strain, and be at rest.

I think that we can see what Saint John Henry Newman appreciated in Professor John Keble's person and character--not just that he inspired that work in England that Newman believed he was saved for when he was so ill in Sicily--but that:

Keble was young in years, when he became a University celebrity, and younger in mind. He had the purity and simplicity of a child. He had few sympathies with the intellectual party, who sincerely welcomed him as a brilliant {290} specimen of young Oxford. He instinctively shut up before literary display, and pomp and donnishness of manner, faults which always will beset academical notabilities. He did not respond to their advances. . . . He went into the country, but his instance serves to prove that men need not, in the event, lose that influence which is rightly theirs, because they happen to be thwarted in the use of the channels natural and proper to its exercise. He did not lose his place in the minds of men because he was out of their sight.

Keble was a man who guided himself and formed his judgments, not by processes of reason, by inquiry or by argument, but, to use the word in a broad sense, by authority. Conscience is an authority; the Bible is an authority; such is the Church; such is Antiquity; such are the words of the wise; such are hereditary lessens; such are ethical truths; such are historical memories, such are legal saws and state maxims; such are proverbs; such are sentiments, presages, and prepossessions. It seemed to me as if he ever felt happier, when he could speak or act under some such primary or external sanction; and could use argument mainly as a means of recommending or explaining what had claims on his reception prior to proof. (from the Note on "Liberalism" in the Apologia pro Vita Sua)

When Newman comments on The Christian Year in chapter one of the same work, he notes:

The Christian Year made its appearance in 1827. It is not necessary, and scarcely becoming, to praise a book which has already become one of the classics of the language. When the general tone of religious literature was so nerveless and impotent, as it was at that time, Keble struck an original note and woke up in the hearts of thousands a new music, the music of a school, long unknown in England. Nor can I pretend to analyze, in my own instance, the effect of religious teaching so deep, so pure, so beautiful. I have never till now tried to do so; yet I think I am not wrong in saying, that the two main intellectual truths which it brought home to me, were the same two, which I had learned from Butler, though recast in the creative mind of my new master. The first of these was what may be called, in a large sense of the word, the Sacramental system; that is, the doctrine that material phenomena are both the types and the instruments of real things unseen,—a doctrine, which embraces in its fulness, not only what Anglicans, as well as Catholics, believe about Sacraments properly so called; but also the article of "the Communion of Saints;" and likewise the Mysteries of the faith.

Image Credit (Public Domain): Portrait of John Keble (1792-1866) by George Richmond (1809–1896)