tempt to deny to Catholics the right of understanding revelation otherwise than Protestants understand it, and of professing and preaching conformably to their system, is arbitrary and inconsistent. In the same Revelation which Protestants claim to explain according to their respective lights, Catholics see the institution of an Infallible Church from which the details of doctrine are to be accepted, and from this Church they do accept their doctrines. In this what business have Protestants to stop them? Certainly none. I' IN MEMORIAM. REV. JAMES GAFFNEY. RELAND, no matter in what way fortune afflicted her and she has had her share of many ills-has never been left without one supreme consolation. The love and devotion which her sorrows, her constancy, and her genius have been so calculated to awaken in the generous heart, have never failed her. She has always had sons to render her that perfect, priceless service, which is "all for love and nothing for reward;" and in the worst times, when the children of the household were stricken and dispersed, sons of adoption rose up to pay her a chivalrous homage, and share the tribulation they could not shield her from. It is characteristic of Ireland that the affection she inspires is at once lover-like in intensity, filial in devotion, martyr-like in endurance, and graced with the tender, pathetic feeling which the old Bard so well expresses in his beautiful address to "The Dark Rosaleen," Even now, when Providence manifestly leads Ireland forth to a happier destiny, her children are still called upon to serve her in the antique spirit: to toil in dark places, seeking long-buried treasures, and to lay the foundations on which others, it may be, will raise a monument to their own fame. And though it may not any longer be 'treason to love her, and death to defend," true patriotism must ever bear the type of a yet higher service; and those who would work for Ireland must do so without stimulus from selfish interests, and in that spirit of sacrifice which ennobles the least pretentious deed. To say that we have many such men in Ireland is no more than to say that the salt of the earth has not lost its savour; and that Hope, having seen the streaks of morning light, now watches for the noon. But we have not so many, that we can well spare one; and there was a great deal of this feeling in the wide-spread regret expressed when early last month the death of the Rev. James Gaffney, of St. Brendan's, Coolock, was announced. Love of country consorts well, in Ireland especially, with the priestly character; and the scholar and gentleman whose loss we deplore, was at once a zealous minister of the Church and an ardent lover of the Land. He had large opportunities of influencing others, and the good cause was safe in his hands. His liberal education and refined tastes; his love of books and art; the solid, practical sense that distinguished him; his thorough appreciation of other men's work and his delight in their success; his kindly ways and frank address, combined to make his company attractive and to render intercourse with him profitable and instructive. Beneath the reserve which became his sacred character, those who conversed with him felt the presence of an ardent nature and an affectionate heart; the balance of a well ordered character held impetuosity in check and restrained enthusiasm within a channel safe though deep; and the influence exercised by a genuine, disciplined nature was at the same time sensibly felt and cordially acknowledged. Honest directness of speech had a charm in him whose tone was always in accord with Christian moderation. And this clear, vigorous speech, so pleasant and effective in familiar talk, gave a certain originality to his pulpit discourses which were not so much sermons as homilies-models in their way of conciseness, aptness of illustration, and thoroughly practical instruction. Even his appearance, his air and address, bespoke the inward man-thoughtful, decisive, frank, and helpful. One could not be many minutes in his company without receiving something worth retaining from his stock of knowledge, or catching up a reflection of his enthusiasm for what is noble, true and good. Hence, wherever Father Gaffney appeared he received a welcome, and whatever company he quitted retained of him a kindly recollection. Well read and widely sympathetic as the good priest was, all his earthly interests centred in one subject-the past, the present, and the future of his country. Irish history and archæology were his favourite studies; the great men who had done service or honour to Ireland retained the first place in his regard; his delight was to pore over some precious relic transmitted to us of the transcriber's skill or the illuminator's art; and one of his greatest enjoyments was to spend an evening in the society of friends who would sing for him the national melodies, or play over the exquisite Irish airs that are found in Petrie's and Bunting's collections. Whenever he travelled abroad, his tour became a pilgrimage to the shrines of Irish saints; he followed with exulting heart the foot-prints they have left on Continental soil, and lingered with intensified devotion in the churches that commemorate the monks of Erin, who, self-exiled from the Island of Saints, became the apostles of distant pagan lands. Father Gaffney's life was uneventful, as indeed the most useful lives frequently are. He was born in the city of Kilkenny, and his baptism is registered in the books of St. Mary's parish on the 31st August, 1824. He was for some time in a boarding-school at Thomastown, and entered in still very early youth as an ecclesiastical student the diocesan college of St. Kyran. In due course he went to Maynooth to follow the higher classes, and there he had a distinguished career. He was elected on the Dunboyne establishment, and in the second year of his studentship in that Foundation was ordained a priest. In 1851, having been affiliated into the archdiocese of Dublin, he was appointed to a curacy in the parish of Bray; whence after a time he was transferred to Athy. Subsequently he officiated in the parishes of Lusk, Swords, and Clontarf. For several years preceding his death he had charge of the district of Coolock, in the last-named parish; and his home was the modest presbytery within the enclosure that circles the village church. Seeing Father Gaffney in this secluded peaceful post, one could not but remember Lacordaire's ideal of what was elevated and desirable, namely "a great heart in a small house." The priest was well placed beside the little church, and surrounded by the poor who loved him, and among whom, literally, he was to breathe his last. Nor did the place ill-become a man given to serious study and literary pursuits. Christian simplicity reigned there in an intellectual atmosphere. The good Father's genial hospitality drew round him often times a group of friends who will long remember the hours they spent in the house of the curate of Coolock. These and similar reunions in the houses of his brother priests-brothers in views and tastes as well as in vocation—were a source of great enjoyment to him. Nor was he insensible to the attraction of a wider social circle in which men of different views, but of serious pursuits and high culture were to be met. He was one of a numerous class who appreciate the charm of intellectual intercourse; but he also belonged to a much smaller class who propagate good, and dɔ honour to the Christian name wherever they go. The proceedings of the Royal Irish Academy had a special interest for Father Gaffney; he attended the meetings of the society from the time he became a member of that distinguished body; and in his writings utilised a portion of the treasures that lie stored in its valuable library. The constant, onerous duties of his sacred calling left little time for authorship, but the intervals of leisure he enjoyed were eagerly availed of to embody in permanent form the results of reflexion and reading. Possibly, had he been longer spared, he would, by a still more rigid economy of time, have succeeded in accomplishing a greater amount of literary work. For no one knew better than he how important to Catholic Ireland at the present hour is the cultivation of sound taste, and the production of a pure, healthy, national literature; and Father Gaffney was not the man to recognise a pressing need without giving some help. The writings which he has left in print are few, but far from unimportant. In 1863 he published in book-form a learned and highly interesting essay entitled, "The Early Irish Church," which speaks in the very first paragraph of that love of fatherland which "refuses to blot out the characteristics of its own national existence, and seeks, amidst its trials and tears, to preserve the national language, traditions, and history." Two years later from the same pen, but without the writer's name, appeared an interesting and erudite pamphlet, "St. Patrick's Cathedral: How it was Restored;" and in 1872, a lecture which he had read for the Young Men's Society of his native city, on "Edmund Burke: His Life and Times," was printed in the Ecclesiastical Record. In this we have a miniature biography executed in masterly style. The circumstances attending Father Gaffney's death were very sad. On the 4th of January as he was proceeding in his croydon, about half-past one o'clock, along the high road between Sutton and Howth, his horse became restive, plunged violently, and overturned the vehicle. Father Gaffney was thrown on a heap of loose sharp stones, and received so severe an injury of the head that he did not survive more than an hour. He expired in the cottage of a poor widow close by the roadside. Though speechless from the moment the accident occurred, the Rev. Mr. Cuddihy, who had hastened to the spot, was satisfied that the sufferer retained consciousness until the last rites of the Church had been administered to him. The sudden painful death of so esteemed a priest and so worthy a citizen caused universal sorrow. The intensity of, public feeling was shown in the only way then possible, by the immense number of the clergy who, with the Cardinal Archbishop, attended the office for the repose of his soul in the parish Church of Clontarf, and the multitude of people of every rank who followed his remains to the grave. In many a heart the memory of that sad day will long remain impressed. By the road that skirts the shore the lengthened procession wound its way, heedless of the bitter blast that swept across the sullen sea; yet noticing, perhaps, the grey shrunken outline of the mountains, and the slank gleams falling on them from broken clouds-pále intimations of a distant hidden brightness. The subjects that occupied the good Father's mind during the days immediately preceding his melancholy death, and the engagements which he looked forward to fulfilling, are not without a deep interest for all who know him. On the day that he lay dead at St. Brendan's, he was to have taken part, as a member of the Grattan Memorial Committee, in the ceremonial of unveiling Foley's matchless statue of the leader of '82. Two days later he was to address the Association of the Sacred Heart at Fairview; the subject he chose for his discourse being "The Life of St. Columba," a most congenial theme. One can fancy how tersely yet eloquently he would have sketched the monk of Iona, whose passionate love for Ireland was shown in such affecting deeds and sung in such melodious verse; who thought "death in faultless Eire," better than "life without end in Albyn;" who, self-exiled to the "sea-spent Hebrides," could not rest in any spot whence a glimpse of his loved island could be caught; whose gray eye moistened even at the sight of the sea, because the white waves broke upon the Irish shore. It is a strange coincidence that St. Columba was strongly in the mind of another ardent lover of Ireland shortly before his tragic end. One of the last poems written by Thomas D'Arcy M'Gee, and published but a few days before he fell by the assassin's hand, was on the beautiful legend that tells how St. Columba received the dove that flew across the waters from Ireland to Iona, and began with the lines "Cling to my breast, my Irish bird, Poor storm-toss'd stranger, sore afraid!" When the day arrived on which the members of the Fairview association were to have listened to the story of St. Columba's life, the earnest voice of scholar and priest was stilled: Father Gaffney was in Glasnevin, sleeping with the faithful dead. Another and a kindred subject likewise had a large share in his thoughts, and occupied much of his spare time during the last weeks of his life. This was a detailed account of a visit which he made during his last summer's vacation to the church of St. James in Ratisbon. His attention had been directed on that occasion to some beautiful Celtic stone carvings on one of the portals and on several of the pillars and balustrades of the Church. He took copious notes on the spot; a priest of the cathedral, Herr Töngler, a great architect and antiquary, who superintended the restoration of the church, gave him much highly valuable information; and this was supplemented on his return to Dublin by researches made in the Royal Irish Academy. The results of Father Gaffney's observations and studies it was his purpose to embody in a lecture and read on the 11th of January at a meeting of the Metropolitan branch of the Catholic Union. With characteristic care Father Gaffney had prepared a well digested paper on the subject; and with a kindness which has now a twofold value in our eyes, destined it for publication in the pages of the IRISH MONTHLY. In our next number we shall print this paper. How gladly we should have received this valuable contribution from his own hand, and how heartily we should have offered our thanks with an earnest au revoir! Now, alas! we can do no more than whisper the final earthly adieu-the sadly murmured REQUIESCAT. C NO CARD SENT. AN APOLOGY. HRISTMAS pass'd by, you waited patiently Why should I say to you J. F. |