"Rome, thou art punished now for having put Varro in command while Fabius still lived."

The Death of Aemelius Paulus by John Trumbull (1743). Click to enlarge.

The second day of August marks the darkest day in ancient Roman history. On that day, in 216 BC, the Roman legions under Gaius Terentius Varro and Lucius Aemilius Paulus were utterly crushed by the smaller army of Hannibal, grand general of Carthage, at Cannae in southern Italy.

The Battle of Cannae, one of the epochal battles of ancient history, was the climax of a series of victories won by Hannibal during his bold campaign in Italy. The Romans suffered over 40,000 killed out of an original force of about 80,000, with thousands more captured and turned to desertion. The consul Aemilius Paulus was also killed, and the scale of the disaster was so great that a panic ensued in Rome.

The most famous account of the battle is probably that of Titus Livius (Livy) written about 200 years after the fact. More contemporary is the account of the Greek historian, Polybius, written in the 2nd century BC, which was very likely Livy's main source for the battle.

Polybius explained how the Roman army followed Hannibal, who had taken the Roman supply depot of Cannae in Apulia, about 200 miles from Rome. The ground around Cannae is a broad flat plain, perfect for deploying Hannibal's superior cavalry forces. Recognizing his disadvantage, the consul Aemilius Paulus recommended a strategy of shadow and delay. Sadly, these types of tactics, made famous by the previous consul Fabius Maximus Cunctator (The Delayer), were in disrepute. The Romans demanded action—a decisive victory over the invaders—and Paulus's colleague as consul, Varro, would give it to them.

Polybius describes the discord between the two consuls, as Paulus resists the urge to battle, while Varro is irked by the inaction:

[Hannibal] drew out his men along the bank of the river [Aufidus], and showed that he was eager to give the enemy battle. But Aemilius, dissatisfied with his position, and seeing that the Carthaginians would soon be obliged to shift their quarters for the sake of supplies, kept quiet in his camps, strengthening both with extra guards. After waiting a considerable time, when no one came out to attack him, Hannibal put the rest of the army into camp again, but sent out his Numidian horse to attack the enemy's water parties from the lesser camp. These horsemen riding right up to the lines and preventing the watering, Gaius Terentius [Varro] became more than ever inflamed with the desire of fighting, and the soldiers were eager for a battle, and chafed at the delay. For there is nothing more intolerable to mankind than suspense; when a thing is once decided, men can but endure whatever out of the catalogue of evils it is their misfortune to undergo.

Having received command of the army on the following day, Varro promptly marched the legions out to fight. Polybius gives the following order of battle:

...Gaius Terentius got the army in motion from both the camps. Those from the larger camp he drew up in order of battle, as soon as he had got them across the river, and bringing up those of the smaller camp he placed them all in the same line, selecting the south as the aspect of the whole. The Roman horse he stationed on the right wing along the river, and their foot next them in the same line, placing the maniples, however, closer together than usual, and making the depth of each maniple several times greater than its front. The cavalry of the allies he stationed on the left wing, and the light-armed troops he placed slightly in advance of the whole army, which amounted with its allies to eighty thousand infantry and a little more than six thousand horse. 

At the same time Hannibal brought his Balearic slingers and spearmen across the river, and stationed them in advance of his main body; which he led out of their camp, and, getting them across the river at two spots, drew them up opposite the enemy. On his left wing, close to the river, he stationed the Iberian and Celtic horse opposite the Roman cavalry; and next to them half the Libyan heavy-armed foot; and next to them the Iberian and Celtic foot; next, the other half of the Libyans, and, on the right wing, the Numidian horse. Having now got them all into line he advanced with the central companies of the Iberians and Celts; and so arranged the other companies next these in regular gradations, that the whole line became crescent-shaped, diminishing in depth towards its extremities: his object being to have his Libyans as a reserve in the battle, and to commence the action with his Iberians and Celts.

The battle commences with skirmishes of the light troops on both sides, but develops quickly as the core Roman legionnaires aggressively advance into the Carthaginian center. Here is Polybius's account of Hannibal's famous pincer movement which led to the complete envelopment and destruction of the Roman army:

The legionaries took the place of the light-armed and closed with the enemy. For a short time the Iberian and Celtic lines stood their ground and fought gallantly. But, presently overpowered by the weight of the heavy-armed lines, they gave way and retired to the rear, thus breaking up the crescent. The Roman maniples followed with spirit, and easily cut their way through the enemy's line...

The Romans, however, going in pursuit of these troops, and hastily closing in towards the center and the part of the enemy which was giving ground, advanced so far, that the Libyan heavy-armed troops on either wing got on their flanks. Those on the right, facing to the left, charged from the right upon the Roman flank, while those who were on the left wing faced to the right, and, dressing by the left, charged their right flank, the exigency of the moment suggesting to them what they ought to do. Thus it came about, as Hannibal had planned, that the Romans were caught between two hostile lines of Libyans—thanks to their impetuous pursuit of the Celts.

Aemilius Paulus attempted to break the encirclement with a cavalry charge, but his forces were driven off by the heavy Carthaginian horse, and Paulus himself was killed. The result, for the encircled legions, was carnage:

As long as the Romans could keep an unbroken front, to turn first in one direction and then in another to meet the assaults of the enemy, they held out; but the outer files of the circle continually falling, and the circle becoming more and more contracted, they at last were all killed on the field—and among them Marcus Atilius and Gnaeus Servilius, the Consuls of the previous year, who had shown themselves brave men and worthy of Rome in the battle. While this struggle and carnage were going on, the Numidian horse were pursuing the fugitives, most of whom they cut down or hurled from their horses; but some few escaped into Venusia, among whom was Gaius Terentius, the Consul, who thus sought a flight, as disgraceful to himself, as his conduct in office had been disastrous to his country.

Hannibal Barca counting the
rings of the Roman knights killed 
at the Battle of Cannae, 
by Sébastien Slodtz (1704).

Writing in the 1st century AD, the Roman poet Silius Italicus (in his Punica) puts this lament into the mouth of Gaius Terentius Varro as he realizes the extent of the catastrophe:

“Rome, thou art punished now for having put Varro in command while Fabius still lived. But what means this divided mind, this change of fortune? Is it a trap laid for me by the Fates? I long to make an instant end of all things by taking my own life. But some god arrests my sword and keeps me alive that I may suffer even worse. Can I live and carry back to Rome these rods, broken and spattered with the blood of citizens? How shall I show my hated face through the towns of Italy? How shall I, a fugitive from battle, see Rome again? Hannibal himself could desire for me no more cruel punishment.”

In the face of this disastrous defeat, Hannibal expected the Romans to desire terms of peace. Though alarm and panic seized the city after the scale of the loss became known, the Romans quickly returned to steely resolve. Silius Italicus relates the Roman response:

But the senators and Fabius put sorrow in the background and turned quickly to other tasks. Slaves, chosen for their strength, were armed in haste….They were determined to bring, by any agency, the realm of Aeneas back to the land of the living, and to arm even bondsmen in defense of the Capitol….They took off from their own children the purple-bordered garment of boyhood and put armor on unaccustomed shoulders. Boys hid their faces behind the helmet, and were bidden to reach manhood in slaughter of the foe.

Likewise, when they were begged to ransom at an easy rate the multitude of Roman prisoners—and the number of petitioners rose to many thousands—they persisted, to the astonishment of Hannibal, in their refusal to redeem them. For they held it worse than any misdeed or any crime for an armed man to surrender….Such was the Rome in those days. And if it was fated that the Roman character should change when Carthage fell, would that Carthage were still standing!

As a result of the Roman defiance and determination to continue the fight, Hannibal was unable to follow up on his greatest victory. With the re-emergence of the Fabian strategy of delay, Hannibal found himself stymied in Italy, unable to properly besiege the city of Rome with the troops he had at hand. This gave the Romans time to recruit new legions, and make progress against Carthaginian strongholds and allies outside of Italy.

My name is Inigo Loyola. You attacked my Church. Prepare to be converted.

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

In our flaccid, faithless modern era, when the superior of the Society of Jesus dances on the edge of heresy, and was presented on a Jesuit website as a “baptized Buddhist”, the feast of Saint Ignatius of Loyola can be bittersweet for those who devoutly love and uphold the traditional teachings of the Catholic Church. As we recall the beautiful, powerful spirituality of Ignatius and his staunch devotion to defending the Catholic faith against error, one can not help but mourn the fact that the order he founded—an order which spawned so many courageous saints over the centuries—is now largely moribund. The tongue-in-cheek joke told by many devout Catholics that certain institutions are “Jesuit, not Catholic” elicits few laughs beyond a bemused nod from those few of us who endured modern Jesuit education and managed to emerge with our faith intact.

The Society of Jesus today presents Ignatius in caricature. Modern “Ignatian ideals” blandly encourage people to be caring, tolerant, and understanding. It enjoins them to love diversity and be “men and women for others.” The spiritual aspects, however, are vague. Mentions of the name of Jesus are rare. Sacred Scripture is cherry-picked to support this anodyne, toothless gospel. Teaching from the Catechism is practically verboten. Indeed, after eight years of Jesuit education in the 1980s and 90s, I can honestly say that I didn’t even know what a “catechism” was. Nor did I know what the word “magisterium” meant. I had to figure these things out for myself when my formal education ended and my actual education began.

The real Ignatius, however, was the man who adopted the motto “Ad maiorem Dei gloriam inque hominum salutem.” Everything he did was for the greater glory of God and the salvation of mankind. The Gospel that he preached was that of Jesus Christ in its full, unadulterated glory. His primary mission was to confront the heretics of his day with logic and sound teaching, and convert them from their errors. As far as dealing with those who enabled or promoted error within Catholic institutions, Ignatius was actually very intolerant. In a letter to Saint Peter Canisius dated August 18, 1554, Ignatius fulminated:

"All public professors and all persons holding administrative positions at the University of Vienna or other universities should be stripped of those positions if they speak negatively about things pertaining to the Catholic religion. We feel the same about rectors, administrators, and teachers at private colleges lest those who should be guiding young people to godliness corrupt them instead. Hence those who are suspect should not be retained there lest they taint the young people. Those who are openly heretical should certainly not be retained. It also seems obvious that those students, if any, who seem incapable of reconsidering, should also be expelled. All schoolmasters and teachers should understand this and be fully aware of the fact that they will hold no position in the king's provinces unless they are, and comport themselves as, Catholics." 

If such a strategy were applied to Jesuit institutions in our own time, about 80% of their faculty and most of the administration would be fired, and the majority of the students would be expelled. How often we hear those who are given the responsibility of running Jesuit universities, lay and religious alike, declare that so-called "academic freedom" supersedes their duty to hold and teach the truths of the Catholic faith, and not tolerate the proliferation of error. It is well to remember that the Society of Jesus was not always so wishy-washy, as the above quote from their founder amply demonstrates.

In another letter to St. Peter Canisius, Ignatius explains why protestant errors have been able to advance, and reveals the mandate of the Society of Jesus, using particularly vivid language:

"Seeing the progress that the heretics have made in so short a time, spreading the poison of their evil teaching throughout so many countries and peoples, and making use of the verse of the Apostle to describe their progress, and their speech will eat its way like gangrene [2 Tim. 2:17], it would seem that our Society, having been accepted by Divine Providence among the efficacious means to repair such great damage, should not only be solicitous in preparing the proper remedies but should be ready to apply them, exerting itself to the utmost of its powers to preserve what is still sound and to restore what has fallen sick of the plague of heresy, especially in the northern countries.

The heretics have made their false theology popular and presented it in a way that is within the capacity of the common people. They preach it to the people and teach it in the schools, and scatter pamphlets that can be bought and understood by many; they influence people by their writings when they cannot reach them by preaching. Their success is largely due to the negligence of those who should have shown some interest, and the bad example and the ignorance of Catholics, especially the clergy, have made such ravages in the vineyard of the Lord. Hence it would seem that our Society should use the following means to end and cure the evils which the Church has suffered through these heretics."

Ignatius then gives suggestions on how to fight the heresies then raging, including the teaching of sound theology in Catholic institutions of higher learning, the creation of short catechisms for teaching the truths of the Church to children, the necessity of well-educated and moral priests to provide examples of virtue for the people, and the publication of pamphlets to specifically refute heretical errors.

These are the true Ignatian ideals as offered by Ignatius himself. Indeed, compassion and tolerance are to be used to assist those in error to understand the true teachings of Jesus Christ, not to confirm them in their errors, or to enable grotesquely sinful behavior because the true Gospel might be "hurtful" or "triggering." Ignatius knew that there is no compassion in enabling sin, nor is there understanding in condoning immoral behaviors.

Can anyone imagine our modern day Jesuits (with a few noteworthy exceptions) using such overtly and unapologetically Catholic language? Had Ignatius been born in 1991 instead of 1491, it is likely he would be rejected by the very order he founded as too "rigid". That, in itself, should tell us all we need to know.

May the Society of Jesus be both Jesuit and staunchly Catholic as it once was. May God send us courageous saints to reform the great religious order founded by Inigo Loyola and return it to its original mandate.

Saint Ignatius, pray for the conversion of your spiritual children.

Death of Constantius I, the father of Constantine the Great ~ Primary Accounts

A gold aureus of Constantius I Chlorus, ca. AD 303.

On July 24 (or July 25 in some sources), AD 306, the Roman emperor Flavius Valerius Constantius Chlorus passed into eternity at Eboracum (York) in Roman Britain at the age of 56.

Reputed to be related to the emperor Claudius II Gothicus, Constantius Chlorus was made a Caesar in AD 293 and was a junior member of Diocletian's original tetrarchy. He ruled as Augustus of the West after the resignation of Diocletian and Maximian in AD 305.

Of course, Constantius is best known as the father of Constantine the Great who followed him as emperor. But Constantine's succession was a close-run thing, considering he had resided in the East for much of his young life under the dubious protection of Diocletian and his Caesar, Galerius. In reality, it seems that Constantine was a hostage whom the eastern tetrarchs were using to exert influence over their colleague in the West. When Constantius fell ill in AD 305, and requested the presence of his son, it is perhaps not surprising that Galerius was not quick in granting permission.

Here are two accounts of the situation at the end of Constantius's life. In the first one, by Eusebius in his Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine, is dramatic, but lacking in details:

The emperors then in power, observing [Constantine's] manly and vigorous figure and superior mind, were moved with feelings of jealousy and fear, and thenceforward carefully watched for an opportunity of inflicting some brand of disgrace on his character. But the young man, being aware of their designs, the details of which, through the providence of God, more than once came to him, sought safety in flight...

Click for more info.

Immediately, therefore, on his escape from the plots which had been thus insidiously laid for him, he made his way with all haste to his father, and arrived at length at the very time that he was lying at the point of death. As soon as Constantius saw his son thus unexpectedly in his presence, he leaped from his couch, embraced him tenderly, and, declaring that the only anxiety which had troubled him in the prospect of death, namely, that caused by the absence of his son, was now removed, he rendered thanks to God, saying that he now thought death better than the longest life, and at once completed the arrangement of his private affairs. Then, taking a final leave of the circle of sons and daughters by whom he was surrounded, in his own palace, and on the imperial couch, he bequeathed the empire, according to the law of nature, to his eldest son, and breathed his last. [Life of the Blessed Emperor Constantine, Book I, Chapters XX-XXI]

It should be pointed out here that Constantius had a total of seven children, with Constantine being the eldest from his first marriage with Helena, whom he was forced to repudiate in order to take the throne. His second marriage with Theodora, the daughter of the senior Western emperor, Maximian, produced a further six children, including Julius Constantius who was the father of the Emperor Julian the Apostate.

Lactantius's account of Constantine's escape to his ailing father, while also dramatic, contains a few additional details:

Constantius, having become exceedingly ill, wrote to Galerius, and requested that his son Constantine might be sent to see him. He had made a like request long before, but in vain; for Galerius meant nothing less than to grant it. On the contrary, he laid repeated snares for the life of that young man, because he durst not use open violence, lest he should stir up civil wars against himself, and incur that which he most dreaded, the hate and resentment of the army. Under pretence of manly exercise and recreation, he made him combat with wild beasts. But this device was frustrated, for the power of God protected Constantine, and in the very moment of jeopardy rescued him from the hands of Galerius.

At length, Galerius, when he could no longer avoid complying with the request of Constantius, one evening gave Constantine a warrant to depart, and commanded him to set out next morning with the imperial despatches. Galerius meant either to find some pretext for detaining Constantine, or to forward orders to Severus for arresting him on the road. Constantine discerned his purpose; and therefore, after supper, when the emperor was gone to rest, he hasted away, carried off from the principal stages all the horses maintained at the public expense, and escaped. Next day the emperor, having purposely remained in his bed-chamber until noon, ordered Constantine to be called into his presence; but he learnt that Constantine had set out immediately after supper. Outrageous with passion, he ordered horses to be made ready, that Constantine might be pursued and dragged back; and hearing that all the horses had been carried off from the great road, he could hardly refrain from tears. Meanwhile Constantine, journeying with incredible rapidity, reached his father, who was already about to expire. Constantius recommended his son to the soldiers, delivered the sovereign authority into his hands, and then died, as his wish had long been, in peace and quiet. [Lactantius, Of the Manner in Which the Persecutors Died, Chapter XXIV].

Both of these accounts seem to be remiss in mentioning that Constantine reached his father not at the brink of death, but just as the latter was embarking on a new campaign in Britain. The two then campaigned in the far north together for over a year, achieved a victory, and then returned to York where Constantius perished. For these facts, we are indebted to the Latin Panegyricist of AD 310, who wrote:

The day would end before my speech, if I were to recapitulate all the deeds of your father…For it was not that he who had accomplished so many great feats thought it worthwhile to acquire—I won’t mention the forests and swamps of the Caledonians and the other Picts—either nearby Hibernia or Farthest Thule, or the Isles of the Blest themselves, if they exist, but rather…when he was about to join the gods, he gazed upon the Ocean…so that when about to enjoy thereafter perpetual light, he might now see there almost continuous daylight.

Click for more info. 

What is more, he was immediately asked his opinion as to whom he would decree the command, and he spoke as befitted Constantius Pius: for manifestly you were chosen, O Emperor, by your father’s vote….For you were summoned even then to the rescue of the State by the votes of the immortals at the very time when your father was crossing the sea to Britain, and your sudden arrival illuminated the fleet which was already making sail, so that you seemed not to have been conveyed by the public post, but to have flown in some divine chariot. [Nixon and Rodgers, In Praise of Later Roman Emperors: The Panegyrici Latini, page 277].

The praise of the panegyricist may sound over-the-top to modern ears, but the accomplishments of Constantius I Chlorus should not be understated. He lived a largely commendable life, was an able defender of the Roman Empire, a tolerant man in an age of grotesque anti-Christian persecution, and the sire of a heroic son who would go on to be ranked among the greatest Roman emperors.

Three Years Behind the Guns of USFS Olympia

I am happy to present the preface for a brand new edition of the classic Three Years Behind the Guns. Originally published in 1908, this book is a gritty, rambunctious memoir describing a young sailor's life aboard USFS Olympia from 1895 through 1898, including his first-hand account of the battle of Manila Bay.

The book is a treasure, and anyone with an interest in naval history in general, or the museum ship Olympia in particular, should read it. The publisher is donating part of the proceeds to the upkeep of the ship.

---

Click here for more info. 

May 1, 1898 is often cited as the exact date when the United States of America transformed from a relatively minor regional power, to a bona fide player on the world stage. On that day, the U.S. Asiatic Squadron under Commodore George Dewey in his flagship Olympia, utterly crushed the fleet of the fast-fading Spanish empire at Manila Bay in the Philippines.

Though it was penned during these heady days, Three Years Behind the Guns is not so much a chronicle of this turning point in history, as it is the unique perspective of one young sailor on the events leading up to it. It is a pithy memoir of life aboard a man-o’-war as the age of “wooden ships and iron men” was giving way to the era of big guns, heavy steel, and high speed. Of these new ships, the protected cruiser Olympia was both a prototype and an outstanding example. Though our author is the main character of this memoir, U.S.F.S. Olympia is the leading lady.

Little is known about the author of Three Years Behind the Guns. On the earliest editions of the book, he is listed cryptically as “L. G. T.” In later editions, he is identified as “Lieu Tisdale.” A check of Olympia’s crew roster at Manila Bay, however, reveals no one of that precise name. Instead, there is a listing for “John B. Tisdale, Landsman.” This is probably our fellow, given that within the book itself, he is addressed on numerous occasions as “Jack” by his shipmates, a Japanese girl, and even by himself while soliloquizing. The reason he chose to publish the book anonymously is unknown. [Olympia's crew roster at Manila Bay may be found here.]

Since the days of Ulysses, sailors have been known for their tall-tales, and our Jack is no exception. His numerous anecdotes sparkle with wit and verve, even when they sound suspiciously apocryphal. The reader will find literal fish-stories here—such as when Jack captures a two-foot-long flying fish on the deck or when a shipmate nearly loses a toe while doing some illicit angling. But there are also descriptions of more somber events that are easily verified by outside sources, such as the death Coxswain John Johnson who was killed during gunnery practice, and the wreck of the steamer On-Wo with the loss of 255 passengers and crew. Jack and his Olympian crewmates pulled 38 survivors from the water and were commended for their efforts.

Olympia in a typhoon.

Perhaps the most impressive thumbs-up for the memoir’s authenticity comes from none other than Admiral Dewey himself, the hero of Manila Bay. In an antique advertisement, the admiral provides a generous endorsement of the book, saying: “Many of my friends and I have read it with the greatest interest. I can vouch for many of the facts; and the description of the Battle of Manila Bay is one of the best I have ever seen published. The type and active life of our American seamen is well and interestingly portrayed, and the book is well worth the attention of both young and old.”

When originally published in 1908—ten years after the battle—Jack’s anonymous memoir met with critical acclaim. The New York Times called it: “An intimate record of life aboard an American man-of-war, and is written with such detail, vivacity, and the knack for vivid expression that it keeps one turning pages until the last one is reached. This Jackie has keen eyes and quick ears, and can put the things he saw and thought about into particularly vigorous English.”

The New York Observer added: “Though sufficiently simple and direct in style to hold the interest of the young reader, this book will be found by grown-ups to be absorbing as a novel.”

When first published, the book was billed as a behind-the-scenes look at life aboard a modern American warship at a time when the U.S. was building giant dreadnought battleships by the dozen and recruiting thousands of young fellows to man them. But time and technology were flying by and within another decade, the catastrophe of the Great War had thrown into eclipse the comparatively minor incident of the Spanish-American War. The subsequent epic struggle of World War II with its colossal ships, ocean-spanning battles and city-shattering weaponry made Dewey’s victory at Manila Bay seem as ancient and obscure as Trafalgar or Salamis.

I believe that the modern reader, particularly the student of history, will find Three Years Behind the Guns even more captivating than the reader of 110 years ago. For young readers of today whose grandparents were born during the 1950s, reading about life aboard a warship from the 1890s is like a visit to an old Victorian mansion. If you’ve toured Dewey’s Olympia in Philadelphia where she exists to this day, you know that is a literal truth. The lovely dark wood paneling and antique furniture in the officers’ quarters contrasts sharply with the painted steel and spartan decks of the crew areas, and the grime and oppressive atmosphere of the engineering spaces. This is the scene where the authentic “steam punk” of Tisdale’s story plays out, complete with coming-of-age hijinks, grinding machinery, clouds of black smoke and moments of sad contemplation.

Like Olympia herself, Three Years Behind the Guns is a hybrid—part solid fact, part work of art. Both ship and book are unique historical artifacts of a bygone era, which is one of the reasons why a portion of the sales of this book will be donated to the continuing upkeep of U.S.F.S. Olympia and her steward, the Independence Seaport Museum in Philadelphia. Such beautiful mementos deserve to be maintained if for no other reason than as concrete reminders of how we got here.

A sailor on board Olympia.

This new edition of this classic work will be published in a format that is easily accessible for modern readers. The text is practically untouched from the original. Jack’s unique voice and witty observations come through loud and clear as they did over a century before. His vivid account breathes life into Olympia which he knew not as a retired museum ship, but as the powerful, hardy seahawk that she was in her prime. “The flag-ship is a thing alive,” he wrote. “It has parts and being. We have heard it breathe, and who will question that in Captain Reed, it has both brain and soul?” 

Tisdale originally dedicated Three Years Behind the Guns to “every man who has walked the decks of a man-of-war.” This new edition should be dedicated in particular to the repose of the soul of John B. Tisdale. He was a man who not only walked the decks, but who recorded his impressions with such trenchant good humor and eloquent detail, that people a century and more afterwards might feel as if they are walking along right beside him.

Indeed, if you every find yourself aboard Olympia, go and look for him. You may glimpse his shade still standing faithfully at his post—behind the guns.

---

To pre-order Three Years Behind the Guns on Amazon.com (due to publish, July 28, 2017), click here.

When Saint Benedict met Totila, King of the Goths

Totila kneels before Saint Benedict by Spinello Aretino (1388).

In the mid 6th century, the Eastern Roman Emperor, Justinian I, launched a campaign to reconquer the lost province of Italy for the Empire. Though his great general, Belisarius, was able to cripple the Gothic kingdom in Italy and capture its capital at Ravenna, he not able to complete the conquest at that time. Soon after he returned to Constantinople, a fierce new Gothic king arose, Totila by name, who revived the fortunes of the Goths and very nearly undid all of the gains made by Belisarius.

One of the lesser known acts of Totila was his visit the famous abbot Benedict at his monastery at Monte Cassino. This event was not recorded in Procopius, the primary classical historian of the age, but rather in the Dialogues of Saint Gregory the Great. The Dialogues include the oldest extant biography of the Saint Benedict and this account may be found therein. Since July 11 is the feast day of Saint Benedict, it seems fitting to present Pope Gregory's description of this extraordinary encounter:

In the time of the Goths, when Totila, their king, understood that the holy man had the spirit of prophecy, as he was going towards his monastery, he remained in a place somewhat far off, and beforehand sent the father word of his coming: to whom answer was returned, that he might come at his pleasure. The king, as he was a man wickedly disposed, thought he would try whether the man of God were a prophet, as it was reported, or no.

A certain man of his guard he had, called Riggo, upon whom he caused his own shoes to be put, and to be apparelled with his other princely robes, commanding him to go as it were himself to the man of God; and to give the better colour to this device, he sent three to attend upon him, who especially were |74 always about the king: to wit, Vultericus, Rudericus, and Blindinus; charging them that in the presence of the servant of God, they should be next about him, and behave themselves in such sort as though he had been king Totila indeed: and that diligently they should do unto him all other services, to the end that both by such dutiful kind of behavior, as also by his purple robes, he might verily be taken for the king himself. Riggo, furnished with that brave apparel, and accompanied with many courtiers, came unto the Abbey: at which time the man of God sat a little way off, and when Riggo was come so near that he might well understand what the man of God said, then, in the hearing of them all, he spake thus: "Put off, my good son, put off that apparel, for that which thou hast on, is none of thine."

Riggo, hearing this, fell straightways down to the ground, and was very much afraid, for presuming to go about to mock so worthy a man, and all his attendants and servitors fell down likewise to the earth, and after they were up again, they durst not approach any nearer to his presence: but returned back to their king, telling him with fear, how quickly they were discovered. [Dialogues, Book II, Chapter 14]

Click for more info.

After his strategem failed, Totila approached the abbot in his own right and sought an interview with him. Things did not go as well as he might have hoped:

Then Totila himself in person went unto the man of God; and seeing him sitting afar off, he durst not come near, but fell down to the ground: whom the holy man (speaking to him twice or thrice) desired to rise up and at length came unto him, and with his own hands lifted him up from the earth, where he lay prostrate: and then, entering into talk, he reprehended him for his wicked deeds, and in few words told him all that which should befall him, saying: "Much wickedness do you daily commit, and many great sins have you done: now at length give over your sinful life. Into the city of Rome shall you enter, and over the sea shall you pass: nine years shall you reign, and in the tenth shall you leave this mortal life."

The king, hearing these things, was wonderfully afraid, and desiring the holy man to commend him to God in his prayers, he departed: and from that time forward he was nothing so cruel as before he had been. Not long after he went to Rome, sailed over into Sicily, and, in the tenth year of his reign, he lost his kingdom together with his life. [Dialogues, Book II, Chapter 15]

Procopius records that Totila, while besieging the city of Rome in AD 546, had a bishop's hands cut off, and furthermore threatened to raze the city to the ground and execute the entire Roman senate. Soon afterwards, he thought better of his threats, and when he finally took the city he spared both its inhabitants and its monuments. Procopius attributes this clemency to a letter written by his adversary, Belisarius, which read, in part: 

"[Rome's] monuments belong to posterity, and an outrage committed upon them will rightly be regarded as a great injustice to all future generations...Remember that your reputation in the eyes of the world is at stake." [Procopius, History of the Wars, VII, xii]

It's quite possible that this letter turned aside the wrath of Totila. However, it could also be that the Goth king's moderation was brought about by a stern warning given to him by the holy founder of Western monasticism, Saint Benedict of Nursia.

"At the age of 20, I committed a crime of passion." ~ The confession of Alessandro Serenelli

Click here to share on Facebook.

July 6 is the feast day of Saint Maria Goretti, a girl of 11 who was brutally murdered because she refused to submit to the sexual advances of Alessandro Serenelli, age 20. Having been stabbed 14 times, Maria survived another day while surgeons tried in vain to save her. During this time, she forgave her attacker and expressed hope that he would be with her someday in heaven. Maria died of her wounds on July 6, 1902.

Nearly 60 years later, Alessandro Serenelli wrote an amazing letter. It was found in a sealed envelope after his death, and reads as follows:

I am now almost 80 years old. I am close to the end of my days.

Looking back at my past, I recognize that in my early youth I followed a false road—an evil path that led to my ruin.  

Through the content of printed magazines, immoral shows, and bad examples in the media, I saw the majority of the young people of my day following evil without even thinking twice. Unworried, I did the same thing.

There were faithful and practicing Christian believers around me, but I paid no attention to them. I was blinded by a brute impulse that pushed me down the wrong way of living.  At the age of 20, I committed a crime of passion, the memory of which still horrifies me today. Maria Goretti, now a saint, was my good angel whom God placed in my path to save me. Her words both of rebuke and forgiveness are still imprinted in my heart. She prayed for me, interceding for her killer. Thirty years in prison followed.

The only known photo of
Maria Goretti.

If I had not been a minor in Italian law I would have been sentenced to life in prison. Nevertheless, I accepted the sentence I received as something I deserved. 

Resigned, I atoned for my sin. Little Maria was truly my light, my protectress. With her help, I served those 27 years in prison well. When society accepted me back among its members, I tried to live honestly. With angelic charity, the sons of St. Francis, the minor Capuchins of the Marches, welcomed me among them not as a servant, but as a brother. I have lived with them for 24 years. Now I look serenely to the time in which I will be admitted to the vision of God, to embrace my dear ones once again, and to be close to my guardian angel, Maria Goretti, and her dear mother, Assunta.

May all who read this letter of mine desire to follow the blessed teaching of avoiding evil and following the good. May all believe with the faith of little children that religion with its precepts is not something one can do without. Rather, it is true comfort, and the only sure way in all of life’s circumstances—even in the most painful. 

Peace and all good. 

Alessandro Serenelli
Macerata, Italy 5 May 1961 

We were fortunate enough to have the relics of St. Maria Goretti at our parish a few years ago, thanks to the Pilgrimage of Mercy Tour of the Major Relics. Their website is an excellent source of information about Saint Maria, as well as Alessandro Serenelli.

The major relics of St. Maria Goretti.

"Christianity rests here on a firmer foundation than in any other country in the world." ~ Alexis de Tocqueville, 1831

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

"Religion is no less the companion of liberty in all its battles and its triumphs; the cradle of its infancy, and the divine source of its claims. The safeguard of morality is religion, and morality is the best security of law and the surest pledge of freedom."
~Alexis de Tocqueville in Democracy in America, 1835

This quote comes courtesy of Alexis de Tocqueville's previously well known but now practically neglected work, Democracy in America, written beginning in 1835.

A Frenchman and a Catholic, de Tocqueville traveled around the US in the early 1830s observing with fascination how the American republic functioned, as compared with the completely dysfunctional and catastrophic French Republic of the previous generation. One of the aspects of the American nation which impressed him the most was the positive effect of the Christian religion upon society and politics. Here is the above quote with some additional context

“Religion perceives that civil liberty affords a noble exercise to the faculties of man, and that the political world is a field prepared by the Creator for the efforts of the intelligence. Contented with the freedom and power which it enjoys in its own sphere, and with the place which it occupies, the empire or religion is never more surely established than when it reigns in the hearts of men unsupported by aught besides its native strength. Religion is no less the companion of liberty in all its battles and its triumphs; the cradle of its infancy, and the divine source of its claims. The safeguard of morality is religion, and morality is the best security of law and the surest pledge of freedom.” 

To read more, see Democracy in America on Google Books.

In a letter to Count Louis de Kergorlay dated June 20, 1831, while situated about forty five miles from New York, de Tocqueville related thoughts relating to the future of religion in the United States, particularly to the expansion of Catholicism and Unitarianism at the expense of the traditional Protestant sects.

"My observations incline me to think that the Catholics increase in numbers. They are considerably recruited from Europe and there are many conversions. New England and the valley of the Mississippi begin to fill with them. It is evident that all the naturally religious minds among the Protestants the men of strong and serious opinions disgusted by the vagueness of Protestantism yet ardently desirous to have a faith give up in despair the search after truth and submit to the yoke of authority. They throw off with pleasure the heavy burden of reason and they become Catholics. Again Catholicism captivates the senses and the imagination and suits the masses better than the reformed religion thus the greater number of converts are from the working classes.

De Tocqueville from a modern sculpture.

"We will pass now to the opposite end of the chain. On the confines of Protestantism is a sect that is Christian only in name I mean the Unitarians. They all deny the Trinity and acknowledge but one God but among them are some who believe Christ to have been an angel others a prophet and others a philosopher like Socrates. The last are pure Deists. They quote the Bible because they do not wish to shock too much public opinion which supports Christianity. They have a service on Sundays. I went to it. Verses are read from Dryden and other English poets on the existence of God and the immortality of the soul. There is a sermon on some moral subject and the service is over. This sect makes proselytes in about the same proportion as Catholicism, but its recruits come from the higher ranks of society.

In these two observations, de Tocqueville seems to be rather prescient considering the present make of of Christian America. Speaking more generally about the impact Christianity has on American society, de Tocqueville goes on to say in the same letter:

"Christianity rests here on a firmer foundation than in any other country in the world which I know and I have no doubt but that the religious element influences the political one. It induces morality and regularity it restrains the eccentricities of the spirit of innovation above all it is almost fatal to the mental condition so common with us in which men leap over every obstacle per fas et nefas to gain their point. Any party, however anxious to obtain its object, would in the pursuit feel obliged to confine itself to means apparently legitimate and not in open opposition to the maxims of religion which are always more or less moral even when erroneous."

The above passages are taken from Memoir, Letter and Remains of Alexis de Tocqueville, Volume 1, beginning on page 308.

Thus we see the genesis of de Tocqueville's belief, echoed in the maxims of the Founding Fathers, that only a religious and moral people can properly maintain a republican form of government. And his belief that Christianity is on firmer footing in American than elsewhere around the world has certainly borne out given that among Western nations today, the United States is practically the only one where the Christian faith endures among a large majority of the people.

Ben Franklin Nominates a Bishop ~ Catholicism and the Early American Republic

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

Most people know that the American Republic inherited from its mother country, Great Britain, an antipathy toward Catholicism. However, given that Catholic France had played such a vital role in assisting the American colonies to win their independence, it is perhaps not surprising that the years immediately following the American victory witnessed a softening of the traditional American aversion to "Popery".

During his long stay in France while acting as ambassador during the American Revolution, Benjamin Franklin seems to have become adept at moving in Catholic circles. Though a very public Freemason, an occasional abuser of "Popish" customs in his public writings, and an all-around worldly and sometimes vulgar fellow, Franklin seems to have mellowed later in life with regard to Catholicism and Christian morality. His embassy to Quebec in 1776 is sometimes cited as the genesis of this sentiment. While on this failed expedition, his health deteriorated and he was forced to return home in the company of one Rev. John Carroll.  No doubt, Dr. Franklin at least acquired an affection for Father Carroll at that time, if not for his religious beliefs.

Later, while nearing the end of his time in France after the successful conclusion of the Treaty of Paris, Franklin played a role in having his friend, Father John Carroll, named as the first Catholic bishop in formerly British America. Following is an interesting entry from Franklin's journal, detailing a conversation Franklin had with the Papal Nuncio, Archbishop Giuseppe Doria Pamphili, on the subject. Of particular note is Franklin's confusion with regard to how bishops are made and to whom they are beholden in terms of authority:

July 1st [1784].—The Pope’s Nuncio called, and acquainted me that the Pope had, on my recommendation, appointed Mr. John Carroll superior of the Catholic clergy in America, with many of the powers of a bishop; and that probably he would be made a bishop in partibus before the end of the year. He asked me which would be more convenient for him, to come to France, or go to St. Domingo, for ordination by another bishop, which was necessary. I mentioned Quebec as more convenient than either. He asked whether, as that was an English province, our government might not take offence at his going thither? I thought not, unless the ordination by that bishop should give him some authority over our bishop. He said, not in the least; that when our bishop was once ordained, he would be independent of the others, and even of the Pope; which I did not clearly understand. He said the Congregation de Propagandâ Fide had agreed to receive, and maintain and instruct, two young Americans in the languages and sciences at Rome (he had formerly told me that more would be educated gratis in France). He added they had written from America that there are twenty priests, but that they are not sufficient, as the new settlements near the Mississippi have need of some. 

Abp. Giuseppe Doria Pamphili

The Nuncio said we should find that the Catholics were not so intolerant as they had been represented; that the Inquisition in Rome had not now so much power as that in Spain; and that in Spain it was used chiefly as a prison of state. That the Congregation would have undertaken the education of more American youths, and may hereafter, but that at present they are overburdened, having some from all parts of the world. He spoke lightly of their New Bostonian convert Thayer’s conversion; that he had advised him not to go to America, but settle in France. That he wanted to go to convert his countrymen; but he knew nothing yet of his new religion himself, etc. [Source: The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Volume X]

It's worth noting that the "Thayer" mentioned above is John Thayer, a Congregationalist minister from Boston who converted to the Catholic faith in 1783 and was later ordained a priest. The Catholic Encyclopedia entry for Thayer mentions that he had attempted to dispute certain miracles which were wrought via the intercession of Blessed (later Saint) Benedict Joseph Labre and was later converted as a result. The full story may be found in his book, An Account of the Conversion of the Reverend John Thayer, formerly a Protestant minister of Boston.

It seems that Franklin's toleration of things Catholic survived the end of his tenure in France. On April 17, 1787, a date exactly three years before his death, Franklin wrote to two Catholic priests, the Abbés Chalut and Arnaud whom he had befriended while in Paris. From this short letter, we see Franklin echoing a common theme of that time that would have rung true with his correspondents as well--namely, that freedom can not exist without virtue:

Dear Friends,

Your reflections on our situation compared with that of many nations of Europe, are very sensible and just. Let me add, that only a virtuous people are capable of freedom. As nations become corrupt and vicious, they have more need of masters.

Our public affairs go on as well as can reasonably be expected after so great an overturning. We have had some disorders in different parts of the country, but we arrange them as they arise, and are daily mending and improving; so that I have no doubt but all will come right in time.

Yours, B Franklin

(Source: The Works of Benjamin Franklin, Volume 10) 

"Without morals a republic can not subsist." ~ Charles Carroll, the only Catholic Signatory of the Declaration of Independence

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

"Without morals a republic cannot subsist any length of time; they therefore who are decrying the Christian religion...are undermining the solid foundation of morals, the best security for the duration of free governments."
—Charles Carroll, the only Catholic signer of the Declaration of Independence

In anticipation of Independence Day, here is another quote in a continuing series on the Founding Fathers of the American Republic. This one, from Charles Carroll, demonstrates the commonly held view that the propagation of Christian concepts of morality is absolutely vital for the maintenance of liberty. This particular quote is taken from a letter of Charles Carroll, the only Catholic to sign the Declaration of Independence, as written to James McHenry on November 4, 1800.

Following is some context. In the letter, Carroll sounds a prophetic warning of the dangers posed by the rational atheism of revolutionary France which, far from enshrining liberty for the French people, instead served as a prelude to despotism:

"If the people of this country were united, it would have nothing to fear from foreign powers; but unhappily this is not the case; many of the opposers of ye present administration, I suspect want change of the federal constitution; if that should be altered, or weakened so as to be rendered a dead letter, it will not answer the purposes of its formation and will expire from mere inanity: other confederacies will start up & ye scene of ye Grecian States, after an interval of more than two thousand years, will be renewed on this continent, & some British or Buonaparte will melt the whole of them into one mass of despotism. 

"These events will be hastened by the pretended Philosophy of France: divine revelation has been scoffed at by the Philosophers of the present day, the immortality of the soul treated as the dreams of fools, or the invention of knaves, & death has been declared by public authority an eternal sleep: these opinions are gaining ground among us, & silently sapping the foundations of a religion the encouragement of ye good, the terror of evil doers, and the consolation of the poor, the miserable, and the distressed. Remove the hope and dread of future rewards & punishments, the most powerful restraint on wicked actions, & ye strongest inducement to virtuous ones is done away. Virtue may be said is its own reward; I believe it to be so and even in this life the only source of happiness; and this intimate & necessary connection between virtue & happiness here and between vice and misery is to my mind one of the surest pledges of happiness or misery in a future state of existence. 

"But how few practice virtue for its own reward! Some of happy disposition & temperament, calm reflecting men, exempt in a great degree from the turbulence of passions may be virtuous for virtue's sake: small, however, is the number who are guided by reason alone, & who can always subject their passions to its dictates? He, who can thus act, may be said to be virtuous; but reason is often inlisted on the side of the passions, or at best, when most wanted, is weakest — Hence the necessity of a superior motive for acting virtuously; now, what motive can be stronger than ye belief, founded on revelation, that a virtuous life will be rewarded by a happy immortality? 

"Without morals a republic cannot subsist any length of time. They therefore who are decrying the Christian religion, whose morality is so sublime & pure, who denounces against the wicked eternal misery, & insures to the good eternal happiness are undermining the solid foundation of morals, the best security for the duration of free governments.

"If there be force in this reasoning, what judgment ought we to form of our pretended republicans, who admire & applaud the proceedings of revolutionary France! 

"These declaimers in favor of freedom & equality act in such a questionable shape that I cannot help suspecting their sincerity." 

As to this last sentence, I have often asked myself this same question regarding those who profess to the common libertarian viewpoints—who find talk of virtue tedious, but never tire of demanding that the law be loosened as regards to common vices of the most destructive sort.

Click here to read Charles Carroll's whole letter in The Life and Correspondence of James McHenry, Secretary of War under Washington and Adams by Bernard Christian Steiner.

Samuel Adams on the Incompatibility of Liberty and Vice

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

"Neither the wisest constitution nor the wisest laws will secure the liberty and happiness of a people whose manners are universally corrupt."

~Samuel Adams, American patriot

As we run up to Independence Day, it is fitting to remember some sage advice from the American Founding Fathers, if for no other reason than to gauge how far we moderns have fallen from the ideals which motivated them, particularly in the realm of morals and virtue. While no one would argue that that the Founders were always paragons of Christian morality in their actions, it should be recognized, at least, that they understood the key role which public and private virtue plays in maintaining true liberty, and knew well that promotion or toleration of vice is supremely harmful to freedom.

The above quote is taken from an essay Samuel Adams wrote in The Advertiser in 1748. Following is the context of the quote which is particularly instructive:

"Neither the wisest constitution nor the wisest laws will secure the liberty and happiness of a people whose manners are universally corrupt. He therefore is the truest friend to the liberty of his country who tries most to promote its virtue, and who, so far as his power and influence extend, will not suffer a man to be chosen into any office of power and trust who is not a wise and virtuous man. 

"We must not conclude merely upon a man's haranguing upon liberty, and using the charming sound, that he is fit to be trusted with the liberties of his country. It is not unfrequent to hear men declaim loudly upon liberty, who, if we may judge by the whole tenor of their actions, mean nothing else by it but their own liberty — to oppress without control or the restraint of laws all who are poorer or weaker than themselves. It is not, I say, unfrequent to see such instances, though at the same time I esteem it a justice due to my country to say that it is not without shining examples of the contrary kind — examples of men of a distinguished attachment to this same liberty I have been describing; whom no hopes could draw, no terrors could drive, from steadily pursuing, in their sphere, the true interests of their country; whose fidelity has been tried in the nicest and tenderest manner, and has been ever firm and unshaken.

"The sum of all is, if we would most truly enjoy this gift of Heaven, let us become a virtuous people: then we shall both deserve and enjoy it. While, on the other hand, if we are universally vicious and debauched in our manners, though the form of our Constitution carries the face of the most exalted freedom, we shall in reality be the most abject slaves."

Though Adams was as least partially inspired by his study of Roman history for his sentiments above, his words echo those of Saint Paul who says in his epistle to the Romans:

"Know you not, that to whom you yield yourselves servants to obey, his servants you are whom you obey, whether it be of sin unto death, or of obedience unto justice?...For the wages of sin is death. But the grace of God, life everlasting, in Christ Jesus our Lord. [Romans 6:16-23]"

We would do well to heed these warnings from history, lest by becoming slaves to our passions, we become literal slaves to a corrupt and heavy-handed state as well.

Adams's essay quoted above may be found in Wells: The Life and Public Services of Samuel Adams, page 22.

A Disgraceful Little War ~ The Opium War and Commissioner Lin

British steamer Nemesis destroying Chinese junks during the Opium War.

Believe it or not, June 26 is the International Day against Drug Abuse and Drug Trafficking. In some circles in the US, advocating the legalization of recreational drugs is considered the correct, even "conservative" thing to do. Granted, these are less "conservative" circles than libertarian, but the cross-over is noticeable. For those with an historical horizon that extends back beyond the 1960s, there is no excuse for taking up this fashionable if foolhardy view.

The date of June 26 was chosen for the Day against Drug Abuse because it marks the anniversary of an event that could be known as the "Humen Opium Party" during which some 20,000 tons of contraband opium were dumped into the harbor at Humen in China.

Alarmed by the vast numbers of Chinese who had become addicted to opium, the Daoguang emperor appointed an official named Lin Zexu to cope with the problem. He was given the rank of "commissioner" and empowered to crush the opium trade.

Lin Zexu's statue,
Chinatown, NYC.

Born in 1785, Commissioner Lin was the son of a prominent official in the Qing dynasty court. He soon achieved renown as an outstanding scholar and writer. During his early career, he established a reputation for intelligence and virtue, described by a more recent writer as: “a resolute and competent administrator, a just and fair applicator of the law and – most amazingly, bearing in mind his peers – incorruptible” [Booth, Opium, p. 129].

Unfortunately, at the heart of the issue were the merchants of a major foreign power — Great Britain. In order to balance out their trade deficit with China, the British began exporting opium into Chinese ports in large quantities. By the 1820s, opium had become the chief product exported into China by the British, with unsurprising results among the Chinese population. Following is a description of a typical opium den in China from a somewhat later source:

The room is four or five yards long and perhaps three wide low ceiling blackened with smoke and covered with black cobwebs. The floor is the bare earth the walls are black as soot save here and there where they are adorned with a few strips of red paper most of which bear inscriptions sounding like horrid mockery. Take one: "May all who enter here gain health and happiness." On all sides of this den are wooden benches like tables covered with a piece of matting and each furnished with lamp and pipe. Most of these were occupied with gaunt hollow eyed figures lying curled up some taking their first puffs others in different stages of prostration and stupefaction. [Taken from Friend of China, 1877, p. 106]

Within a few months of his arrival at Canton, Commissioner Lin issued an edict demonstrating his resolve with typical Middle Kingdom contempt for foreigners:

“Let the Barbarians deliver to me every particle of opium on board their store-ships. There must not be the smallest atom concealed or withheld. And at the same time let the said Barbarians enter into a bond never hereafter to bring opium in their ships and to submit, should any be brought, to the extreme penalty of the law against the parties involved” [Hoe, The Taking of Hong Kong].

Commissioner Lin then posted a warning to the Chinese people of Canton which concluded as follows:

“Now then ye who smoke opium!...When ye take up the opium pipe to smoke, do one and all of you put the hand upon the heart, and ask yourselves: Do I deserve death or not? Ought I to leave off this hateful vice or not? People who have rebelled against heaven, who have injured their fellow-men, who have opposed reason, who have trampled on the five relations of mankind, who have set at defiance every rule of decency and propriety: methinks that though our sovereign’s laws may not slay them, yet with heaven and earth, gods and spirits, must exterminate them with their avenging lightning! Though you may escape our human punishments, think you that you can escape the punishment of heaven?” [Martin, Opium in China, p. 68].

But Lin's most audacious attempt to move the moral needle may have been a letter that he wrote directly to Queen Victoria, Britain's reigning monarch. While it is unclear whether the Queen actually read the letter or not, it ended up having little impact on the sad course of events. In the letter, Lin appeals to benevolence, justice, and logic:

"Suppose there were people from another country who carried opium for sale to England and seduced your people into buying and smoking it; certainly your honorable ruler would deeply hate it and be bitterly aroused. We have heard heretofore that your honorable ruler is kind and benevolent. Naturally you would not wish to give unto others what you yourself do not want.

We have also heard that the ships coming to Canton have all had regulations promulgated and given to them in which it is stated that it is not permitted to carry contraband goods. This indicates that the administrative orders of your honorable rule have been originally strict and clear. Only because the trading ships are numerous, heretofore perhaps they have not been examined with care. Now after this communication has been dispatched and you have clearly understood the strictness of the prohibitory laws of the Celestial Court, certainly you will not let your subjects dare again to violate the law."

Read Commissioner Lin's full Letter of Advice to Queen Victoria here.

Sadly, what Commissioner Lin failed to appreciate was just how far his own country had fallen behind the European West in terms of technological advances and military prowess. Caught somewhat off guard, the British merchants surrendered their opium under the pretense that their loss would be made good. Commissioner Lin proceeded to destroy all of the seized drug and cast it into the sea. The merchants were not compensated, and their perceived grievance soon precipitated a military response from the British. The result was the disastrous First Opium War. A reasonable summary of the depressing course of action during the war may be found here.

Following disastrous military defeats, the Qing court was forced to capitulate. For his role in the debacle, Commissioner Lin was demoted and exiled. The imperial court was forced to sign the Treaty of Nanking which was the first of the so-called "Unequal Treaties" between China and the western powers. In short, Qing China was forced to pay reparations to the British merchants for the opium which was destroyed, open additional ports to western trade, and cede Hong Kong as a colony. China continued to be open to the opium trade which would consume untold lives for decades to come.

Later, the British came to regret their part in the Opium War. Philanthropist John Passmore Edwards called it, "One of the most unjust and iniquitous crimes ever perpetrated by one nation on another." Future prime minister William Gladstone opined in a similar fashion: "A war more unjust in its origin, a war more calculated to cover this country with permanent disgrace, I do not know and have not read of." In the same periodical, a Mr. Omrad gave a fair assessment of Commissioner Lin's effort, saying:

"I hold that Commissioner Lin served us just right when the opium that was to have destroyed his countrymen was instead destroyed by him, and I honor the patriotism and admire the pluck of the brave commissioner who dared to step forth in defense of his country, simple justice, and common humanity against a nation so great and powerful as our own."

So for those in our own day who participate in the recreational drug trade, would attempt to legalize it, or simply to acquiesce in the face of those political forces which seek to make these toxins more easily available in the name of "liberty", I would ask you to consider history. Understand that the wages paid by your intellectual ancestors were evil, destruction and death. You may succeed in making the use of such substances legal in this world, but like the British, you will not escape the punishment of heaven.

Paulinus of Nola ~ A Roman plutocrat who became a Christian saint

Click here to share this image on Facebook.

Pontius Meropius Anicius Paulinus (AD 354 - 431), otherwise known as Saint Paulinus of Nola, was a remarkable Roman whose feast day is celebrated by Catholics on June 22. Though less well-remembered than his contemporaries Saint Augustine and Saint Jerome, numerous literary works of Paulinus have survived to our time, including letters and poems. A native of Roman Gaul, he was a member of the Roman elite during the waning days of the Western Empire. His family was tremendously wealthy and Paulinus received an outstanding classical education, the poet Ausonius serving as his tutor.

Though certainly among the "1%" of the Roman aristocracy and possessing significant political stature, Paulinus converted to Christianity in his 20s and never looked back. His massive fortune he donated to the poor, or else used it to build churches, charitable institutions, and public works.

Among Paulinus's most notable surviving literary works, the modern reader may find a detailed description of the 4th century basilica that he caused to be erected in modern Cimitile, a short distance from Nola. This was a large structure designed to enhance the existing shrine to Saint Felix of Nola. Here is an excerpt from Paulinus's letter to provide a sense of what the building must have looked like when completed:

Ghostly faces emerge from an ancient
fresco at the basilica complex of
St. Felix in Cimitile. Image detail
borrowed from the Peregrinus blog and
enhanced by me.

The outlook of the basilica is not, after the usual fashion, towards the east, but faces the basilica of the blessed Lord Felix [St. Felix of Nola], looking out upon his tomb. But the apse winds round, extending with two side apses on right and left in the spacious area around. One of these is available to the bishop when making his sacrifices of joy, whilst the other takes the praying congregation in its large recess behind the priest. The whole of this basilica opens on to the basilica of our renowned confessor [St. Felix, as mentioned above], giving great pleasure to the eye; there are three external arches, and the light floods through the lattice by which the buildings and courtyards of the two churches are connected. For because the new church was separated from the older one by the intervening wall of the apse belonging to some tomb, the wall was penetrated on the side of Saint Felix’s church by as many doors as the new church has at its front entrance. So the wall is pierced to provide a view from one church into the other, as is indicated by the inscriptions posted between the doors on each side. So these lines are set at the very entrance to the new church: 

“This beautiful house lies open for you to enter through the triple arch; this threefold door bears witness to devoted faith.”

The above was taken from Walsh: Letters of Paulinus of Nola, Volume 2. Please click the link to access the full description.

Detail of some of the surviving ancient mosaics at the basilica complex of
St. Felix in Cimitile, Italy. 

Amazingly, parts of this basilica still survive in Cimitile to this day. An excellent description of these remains may be found at the Peregrinus blog in the post: Cimitile: Saints Felix, Paulinus and Spreading the Wealth in the Early Church. The fresco detail posted above was borrowed from this post and several other beautiful photos reside there.

One of the more colorful narratives about Paulinus may be found in the Dialogues of Saint Gregory the Great. dating from about 150 years after Paulinus's death. Here, Pope Saint Gregory details a legendary story exemplifying the great generosity of the holy man from Nola, and his willingness to sacrifice all for the sake of his spiritual children:

When as in the time of the cruel Vandals, that part of Italy which is called Campania was overrun and sacked, and many were from thence carried captive into Africa: then the servant of God, Paulinus, bestowed all the wealth of his Bishopric upon prisoners and poor people. And not having now anything more left, a certain widow came unto him, lamenting how her son was taken prisoner by one that was son-in-law to the king of the Vandals, and by him carried away to be his slave: and therefore she besought him, that he would vouchsafe to help her with a ransom for the redeeming of her son. But the man of God, seeking what he had to give the poor woman, found nothing left but himself alone, and therefore he answered her in this manner: 

"Good woman, nothing have I to help thee withal but myself, and therefore take me, and a God's name say that I am your servant, and see whether he will receive me for his slave, and so set your son at liberty."...

Whereupon away they traveled both into Africa. And when the king's son-in-law came abroad, the widow put up her petition concerning her son...: 

"Behold, I give you here this man instead of him, only take compassion on me, and restore to me mine only son."

At which words he, casting his eyes upon Paulinus, and seeing him to have an honest and good face, asked him of what occupation he was: to whom the man of God answered: "Trade or occupation I can none, but some skill I have in keeping of a garden."

This pleased the Pagan very well, whereupon he admitted him for his servant, and restored the widow her son, with whom she departed out of Africa, and Paulinus took charge of the garden. 

The king's son-in-law coming often into the garden, demanded certain questions of his new man, and perceiving him to be very wise and of good judgment, he began to give over the company of his old familiar friends, and conversed much with his gardener, taking great pleasure in his talk. Every day Paulinus brought him to his table divers sorts of green herbs, and after dinner returned to his garden.

After he had used this a long time, upon a day, as his master and he were in secret talk together, Paulinus spake unto him in this manner: "Consider, my Lord, what is your best course, and how the kingdom of the Vandals shall be disposed of, for the king is to die shortly".

Click for more info.

This news, because he was in special grace with the king, he gave him to understand, adding that his gardener, who was a passing wise man, had told him so much. The king, hearing this, was desirous to see the man he spake of: "Your Majesty," quoth he, "shall see him, for his manner is to bring me in daily fresh herbs for my dinner, and I will give orders that he shall do it in your presence": which direction being given, as the king sat at dinner, Paulinus came in, bringing with him divers sallettes and fresh herbs: whom so soon as the king beheld, he fell a trembling, and sending for Paulinus' master (who by the marriage of his daughter was so near allied unto him), acquainted him with that secret which before he had concealed, saying:

"It is very true that which you have heard, for the last night, in a dream, I saw certain judges in their seats sitting upon me, amongst whom this man also sat for one: and by their sentence that whip was taken from me, which for the punishment of others some time I had. But inquire, I pray you, what he is, for I do not think one of so great merit to be an ordinary man, as he outwardly seemeth."

Then the king's son-in-law took Paulinus in secret, and asked him what he was: to whom the man of God answered: "Your servant I am," quoth he, "whom you took for the ransom of the widow's son."

But when he would not be satisfied with that answer, but did instantly press him to tell, not what he was now, but what he had been in his own country, and did urge him very often to answer to this point: the man of God, adjured so strictly, not being able any longer to deny his request, told him that he was a Bishop; which his master and lord hearing became wonderfully afraid, and humbly offered him, saying: "Demand what you will, that you may be well rewarded of me, and so return home to your country."

To whom the man of God, Paulinus, said: "One thing there is wherein you may much pleasure me, and that is, to set at liberty all those that be of my city": which suit he obtained, for straightways throughout Africa all were sought out, their ships laden with wheat, and to give venerable Paulinus satisfaction, they were all discharged, and in his company sent home.

And not long after the king of the Vandals died, and so he lost that whip and severe government, which to his own destruction and the punishment of Christians by God's providence he had before received. And thus it came to pass that Paulinus, the servant of almighty God, told truth, and he that voluntarily alone made himself a bondman, returned not back alone, but with many from captivity: imitating him who took upon him the form of a servant, that we should not be servants to sin: for Paulinus, following his example, became himself for a time a servant alone, that afterward he might be made free with many.

Granted, this story features numerous historical inaccuracies, the most obvious of which is that Paulinus died in AD 431, while the Vandal king who conquered Africa, Gaiseric, did not perish until AD 477. That said, if one substitutes Gunderic (the Vandal king who died in AD 428) for Gaiseric and Spain for Africa, the kernel of the story could indeed be true.

Paulinus's life was important enough for him to be called out as an example by Pope Benedict XVI in a general audience in December 2007. In this lecture, Pope Benedict said the following about Paulinus:

"While he was doing his best to build the city on earth, he continued discovering the way to the city in Heaven. The encounter with Christ was the destination of a laborious journey, strewn with ordeals. Difficult circumstances which resulted from his loss of favour with the political authorities made the transience of things tangible to him. Once he had arrived at faith, he was to write: "The man without Christ is dust and shadow." (Carm. X, 289). [Click here to read the entire lecture.]

As powerful as those words sound in our day, they must have been so much moreso during the time when the great empire built by earthy glory was crumbing to the ground.