USA > Illinois > Stephenson County > The history of Catholicity in Stephenson County; Illinois > Part 10
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EXTREME UNCTION-PERSONATED BY LOUIS KNIPSCHILD.
Gloriously have you all portrayed the special and sacred beauty of the sacraments of which you are the Guardian Spirits, and I would not wish that a single word were weakened, or that a single expression were less enthusiastic, for wonderful are the Sacraments of God's Church, but the beautiful chain that you have formed would be imperfect without my link-yes, sadly, deplorably imperfect-for without this link the chain may not reach, beautiful and holy as it is, to heaven's portals, for though Extreme Unction is not absolutely necessary to salvation, yet is
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most efficacious in procuring for the Christian, who receives it, the grace to die well.
How consoling is the thought of the great numbers of de- vout souls to whom that holy sacrament must have been admin- istered in St. Mary's parish during fifty years-administered by those who have themselves, long since, departed to the happy realms of eternity.
My spoken tribute is paid to the memory of those of St. Mary's parishioners who went to meet their judge with the blessing of Extreme Unction purifying each of their senses; to the memory, likewise, of those faithful priests who, by means of this sacrament, conferred, through the power given them by God, the stupendous grace of forgiveness of sins and of spiritual health.
MESSENGER FROM THE NATIONS-PERSONATED BY CHARLES DUBS.
This grand meeting of Jubilee Spirits would be imperfect without my presence, and your memorial greetings would lack a distinctive feature without my message.
I bear, to each and all, the greetings of the nations, Ireland, France, Germany and America, which have given of their noblest and their best to afford to St. Mary's her bands of saintly priests and her assemblies of devoted people, during the long space of fifty years.
From patriotic, suffering and poetic Ireland ; from brilliant, enthusiastic and ever friendly France; from strong, thrifty, philosophical Germany, and from vigorous, free and generous America,-I present greetings, most joyous and most significant, as seen in the light of those past years, when the sons of these countries were St. Mary's pastors, and both sons and daughters were St. Mary's parishioners.
MESSENGER FROM THE SACRED HEART-REPRESENTED BY JOHN SCALNAN.
From the very throne of God, come the inspirations and messages of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, and only the glowing Seraphim may bear them to the Guardian Spirits, who pass be- tween heaven and earth. Be it mine, then, to repeat what a
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Seraph has sweetly uttered. in token of the loving regard of the Sacred Heart for St. Mary's people, so many of whom practice, with unfailing fervor, the pious requirements of the Holy League.
May not much of the parish's prosperity, and the congrega- tion's fidelity, be traced to the wonderful promises made by our Lord, through the Blessed " Margaret Mary," to those who shall faithfully follow the practices of devotion to the Sacred Heart ? Many are the wise deeds of true friendship which your pastor's love for your immortal souls has prompted him to do for you, but in none has he been wiser than in having established among you a branch of the League of the Sacred Heart, for, thereby, he has afforded you the means to become spiritually strong, and has set about you a fortification against the enemies of your souls.
To-day, we doubt not, there has come, from the glowing -depths of that all-loving Heart, special greetings and special blessings to St. Mary's pastor and his people.
MESSENGER FROM ST. THOMAS AQUINAS-PERSONATED BY JOHN FLANAGAN.
St. Thomas Aquinas, " Angel of the Schools," and special patron of St. Mary's children, sends greeting, glad greetings, to all assembled here. With tender watchfulness, he has seen the approach of this memorable day; with special and heavenly de- light does he behold its celebration, replete with the logic of events, full of the philosophy of history's best elements. Honored am I to be the bearer of his august message, wherein he, the mighty wielder of magic words, expresses his high regard for the noble philosophy upon which the government and teaching of St. Mary's parish and congregation are based.
Some words of peculiar solemnity and holy meaning has he, on this occasion, for our Rev. Pastor's private ear; these it is not for one like me to repeat nor interpret; to our Rev. Father's heart, will the great and holy Doctor whisper them, and sweet tokens will they be, not only of the Saint's fond regard for a favorite client, but of the sacred love of the Saint's Divine Master for His faithful and truly devoted priest.
11
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MESSENGER FROM THE SACRED HEART OF MARY- REPRESENTED BY KATE KAVANAUGH.
" Unseen, yet seen," choirs of angelic spirits have hovered, in and about St. Mary's Church, during these glad days of con- secration and celebration ; unseen by men, yet seen by God, they have done the will of their Immaculate Queen, and have joined their celestial tones with the harmonies of terrestrial voices, in those solemn psalms and hymns, whereby human hearts seek to- express their deeper and holier emotions of love and adoration.
Patroness of our church, powerful Protectress of our congre- gation and our parish-Mary, " Blessed among all people," sends greetings that are echoes of those from her divine Son, and sec- ond only to them, in their joy-producing power, and in the sacred. effects of their united benedictions.
THE SPIRIT OF TIME-REPRESENTED BY EDWARD DUBS.
The greetings have been all presented ; the spiritual history, as it were, of St. Mary's parish has been given ; joys and sorrows- have been recorded ; graces and blessings have been symbolized, and now Time sounds the hour for parting. Each beautiful Spirit will leave gifts of priceless value to be cherished, in the human hearts that have been gladdened by this occasion, or have, which is more blessed, aided to make the hearts of others glad.
May the Spirit of the Past never be called upon to record, regarding St. Mary's people, anything that might tarnish the brightness of Memory's pictures, or dampen the ardor of Zeal's. earnest endeavors.
May the Spirit of Life have no cause to regret having brought. immortal souls to St. Mary's homes and home-keepers. May there be, in the midst of St. Mary's parish, as many Guardian Angels as there are human souls, and may the Spirit of Holy Infancy dwell with all the little ones of the flock. May the Spirits of Divine Grace and of Holy Vocation be ever busy among St. Mary's people, both young and old. May the Spirits of the Seven Sacraments be as active as, even the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary can desire. May St. Thomas find every member of the congregation obedient to his teachings in all things. May the-
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Nations be proud of St. Mary's record, and may Time close, for her people, in a blessed eternity.
Let us join in a hymn of thanksgiving, and then take our flight, for which I offer you " the wings of Time."
(The Te Deum.)
THE JUBILEE POEM.
At the close of the above drama, Miss Mary Vail, a post graduate of St. Mary's, read very prettily, the Golden Jubilee Poem, which had been composed for the occasion, in imitation of Sidney Lanier, and ran as follows :
A rainbow span of fifty years, Painted upon a cloud of tears, In blue for hope and red for fears,
Finds end in a golden hour to-day. Ah, to us in our childhood the legend was told, " At the end of the rainbow lies treasure of Gold," And now, in our thrilling hearts, we hold- The gold that will never pass away.
Gold crushed from the quartz of many a crystal life, Gold hammered, with blows of many a human strife, Gold burnt, in the love of Christian man and wife, Till it is pure as the very flame ; Gold spun from the love of daughter and son, Gold with which every good gift is won ;
Gold that the patient and the brave
Amass, in realms beyond the grave ; Àmass, neglecting praise and blame.
O golden hour is this, that crowns the time, Since, heart to heart, like rhyme to rhyme, Good people knelt to hear the chime- Of holy mass, by spirits rung, That tinkled many a sacred secret sweet,
Concerning how God and holy souls should meet ; And whispered of the Saviour's lingering feet With a most sacred, silver tongue.
O golden day, of that first sacrifice ; O golden crown, For kingly heads and royal hearts, then bowed down ; To you no smile, to you no frown, Except the smile and frown of heaven ;
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Dear heads, some white, some dark with raven hair ;
Dear hearts, some gay, some weighted down with care, What thoughts, what feelings had you there ?
Old settlers of this favored place, To-day you miss full many an honored face, That would have smiled, with joyous grace, At this, our Golden Jubilee feast.
But God is good, and God is great,
His will be done, if soon or late,
Our dead stand happy, in the golden gate,
And call our jubilee blessings not the least.
So, friends most dear, and friends most wise, Look to your jubilee rainbow in the skies,
Grasp the full meaning of the many-hued prize.
Then, with souls as full of joy, as souls may be, we gladly say,
" Holy hearts that wrought with smiles through tears,
This rainbow span of fifty years,
Behold how true, how bright God's love appears."
His holy grace, His priceless gifts, His tender care,
True gold, bright gold, gold most rare,
To make you rich, to make you glad, without alloy, On this, your Golden Jubilee day, of highest joy.
A pleasant feature of the occasion was the presentation to Rev. Father Horan of $400 in gold, a sum donated by several ladies and gentlemen of the parish. Rev. Father Du Four made the presentation speech, which was feelingly responded to by the pastor, who was the recipient also of a goodly number of other gifts from home and abroad.
A LITERARY CHAPLET.
Woven in honor of His Grace of Chicago, by the Feehan Reading Circle, of St. Mary's High School, on the occasion of the Golden Jubilee.
THE SUBJECTS AND THEIR REPRESENTATIVES.
" True Advancement " Laura Steffen
" General Literature "' Joseph Allen
"' Poetry of the Past " Kittie Killion
" Minstrelsy " Clara Killion
" The Lyric Muse " Helen Burns
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165.
ROBERT CASEY.
THOS. CARROLL.
MICHAEL SCANLAN.
PATRICK GRANT
RICHARD HUGHES.
MEMBERS OF COMMITTEES.
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" The Epic and the Drama "' . John Scanlan
" Names Known to Fame " Kate Kavanaugh
" Historical Writers " . Charles Dubs
" Scientific Writers ". Louis Knipschild
" The Power of Oratory " John Flanagan
" American Writers " Mary Reardon
" Woman's Pen " . Lorine Byrne
" Aesthetic Writers " Lizzie Corcoran
" Philosophic Writers ' John Manion
" Religious Writers ". Clement Gordon
" The Literature of the Church " Edward Dubs
" Modern Progress ". . Frances Fee
MODERN PROGRESS :- Well, well, I wonder when we will have done with these old-fashioned entertainments, these dull " Open Meetings," these silly so-called "Literary Programs " ! I wonder when, instead of this awkward, feminine costume and this poor little stage, we will have a manly garb and rostrums.
A poor way this for displaying feminine ability ! Here we are, like so many demure, " Puritan Maidens," prepared to make the prosiest of speeches and the dullest of impressions,-yet, in these electric days, there is need of woman's electric tongue to in- spire the public and to direct the councils of the nation; need of woman's magnetic influence to govern the national impulses, to guide the national will, and to direct the national strength.
Here we are at the nation's footstool, when we should be gracing the nation's throne. Study, study, study !- and what comes of it all? What use is it to know that Julius Cæsar and Scipio Africanus, and others like them, were not only great leaders, but learned men-since, however learned we may become, we shall never be leaders ?
TRUE ADVANCEMENT :- How absorbing, how blinding is the desire for power ! What matters it that we cannot lead ? Were it not better that our aim should be knowledge? That the glorious desire " to know " should animate heart and mind ?
True Christian advancement consists, in applying our knowl- edge to the acquisition of those things which benefit man physi- cally, morally and mentally. What are the needs of this lofty being we call man ? His magnificent intellect,-it must be developed ;
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JOHN E. HOGAN.
--
E. J. SCANLAN.
M. O'BRIEN.
-
JAS. P. YOUNGER.
J. RIORDAN.
MEMBERS OF COMMITTEES.
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his stupendous powers,-they must be governed; his admirable abilities,-they must be made to benefit himself and all his race.
" Progress " ? " Advancement "? Thought carries us to the very throne of the Omnipotent, in the hollow of whose hand man lies, infinitely small and utterly insignificant. Yet, so high is man placed, in the scale of creatures, he is ever tempted to ad- vance, rather than to mount.
Dazzled by the magnitude of his own works, he would be- come a worshiper of himself, only that nature, yielding her secrets with reluctant hand, makes him feel that she is conquered, not by his will, but by his exertions, and that there is a limit to his- power, infinitely short of what it might be, did he but aim up- ward, as well as onward.
Realize, then, O human soul ! that true Christian Advance- ment is not merely the dream of a visionary. Scan the earth ; consider the various legitimate employments of its human inhabi- tants,-is there one of thein that precludes the idea of an upward movement, as well as an onward ?
Piety does not deaden activity ; nature's noblemen are not idlers ; they labor, but they do not confine their thoughts to the subject of loss or gain. They are found in all stations of life, and their distinguishing characteristic is loftiness of purpose.
MODERN PROGRESS :- Wonder if she means all that lecture for me? Quite eloquent and interesting, but by no means con- vincing. " Christian Advancement," indeed-an old fogyism of the middle ages ! Haven't I " a glorious desire for knowledge " ? Don't I read the newspapers and all the periodicals ?
As for "nature's noblemen "-why, they'd starve in our day. What political party would be so mad as to propose one of " nature's noblemen " as a candidate for any office ?
Oh, we have no manner of use for them, in practical life. They do very well in poetry, and we build monuments to their honor,-good, solid monuments, that will keep them, and their lofty ideas, from rising up against the true interest of the world !
LITERATURE :- Ours is said to be an age of thoughtfulness. Thinkers are rife in all departments of knowledge, and, so prolific
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are the writers, the deadly work, of all swords ever wielded in battle, could be buried six feet deep, beneath the work of the pen.
" Who is it that, divested of his robes of flesh, with vision clear and pure, scans the firmament, from star to star, catching inspira- tions from each gleaming orb? Who is it that, in mental flight, passes from mossy dell to mountain height ; from sunlit cloud to running stream ; from smiling vales to ocean depths-gathering
J. P. COFFEY.
JERRY GORDON.
M. FLANAGAN.
MEMBERS OF COMMITTEES.
beauties, everywhere, and imprisoning them in a mesh of tuneful words ?"
" It is a mighty mind, with swift, yet solemn sweep of magic wings, with intellect of purest fire, accompanied, as is better far, for us and earth, by a human heart, a heart that feels, that weeps and trembles, that speaks our language and responds to our emotions." It is the poet. It is he who grasps a noble pen for a noble purpose.
Literature has not been the least delightful of our studies during the past two years ; rather has it been the most interesting and profitable. Let us, then, honor this occasion, and the pres- ence of His Grace, our beloved Archbishop, by weaving a garland in memory of all successful wielders of the magic pen.
MODERN PROGRESS :- Oh, yes; let's talk about literature ! Modern Progress has freed Literature from the bondage of former
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centuries, when Superstition was the counsellor of the nations, and Literature, in return, has become the inspirer of Modern Progress. Why, our very strikers, the leaders of our mobs and riots, have written letters which will be inscribed, henceforth, on the tablets of fame. Oh, yes, Modern Progress approves of Lit- erature; she works for progress; she scatters newspapers far and wide, and makes the world think as Modern Progress thinks.
SPIRIT OF LITERATURE :- Silence, saucy intruder ! We must fain notice you at last, and beg you to discriminate between the vile productions of a free-press and those grand eminations of the human mind which the educated and refined call literature.
Dear companions, you who have assembled here, to honor true literature, let us weave our beautiful, symbolic chaplet, in honor of the great minds of the literary world, with flowers culled in their own fragrant thought-gardens, and bedewed with gems, from the deep mines of their profound reflections.
The first offering should be made, in honor of the poetry of the glorious past.
POETRY OF THE PAST :- God said, " Let there be light, and there was light." Thus opened the grand epic of creation. " It is consummated ; " thus closed the tragedy of the Redemption, and, from the entoning of the first, to the final note of the last, how many solemn psalms were chanted ; how many mystic songs and holy canticles were sung! The poetry of the remote past breathes in the words of Scripture, and bears, as all true poetry should, a message to mankind.
Turning from these sacred themes, and passing, as out of out our sphere, the poetry of Asia, of Greece, and of ancient Rome, we find, in Western Europe, the earliest poet was the minstrel, Troubadour, Trouvere, or bard. Minstrelsy had its birth, not in Italy, land of song; not in Spain, home of chivalry ; not in Ger- many, abode of music ; but amid the ruggedness of Scandanavia, the green hills of Erin, and the highlands of Caledonia.
In France, the Trouveres of Normandy, and the Troubadours of Languedoc, sang of daring deeds and of the heroes who did them.
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" While the Skalds of Scandanavia celebrated their dwarfs and giants, dragons and monsters, the Troubadours, filled with the genius of Gothic fiction, constructed inany a tale for nothern wonder, from fragments of Homer. Imagination pictures an Anglo-Norman court, or baronial hall, with its minstrel holding his listeners entranced as he sings his metrical romances. How natural our sympathy and bond of alliance with the men and customs of feudal times. They were our chivalric forefathers, and, with all their stern, warlike qualities, they wove much of poetry in with their struggles for liberty and justice."
All honor, say I, to the minstrels of old, far above any modern writer of song or play, sonnet or hymn. [Begins the chaplet by placing flowers on the little table in the middle of tlie stage.]
A TRIBUTE TO THE BARDS: Yes, and every heart melted as the bard recited the woe of stricken knight or forsaken captive, widowed mother or fatherless daughter.
What modern poet has been the inspirer of his people? Who would now dare to sing of past glory, present woe, or future re- dress, with the hope of being heard in the councils of a nation ? He would be expelled from the senate chambers of modern nations, as a madman.
But, in those olden days, the bards were the most honored of the nation's sons. The bards excited armies to bravery and preceded them in battle, when the cause was just. The bards were the heralds of princes, the mediators of peace, the welcome guests of lords and kings.
The voice falters, choked with tears, as we endeavor to por- tray the pathetic memories associated with the bards of ancient Ireland. Would that Turlough O'Carolan, last of his race, might appear before us, to tell us what it meant to be an Irish minstrel,- to have his part, in the home-life and the heart-life, of all whose thresholds he crossed.
Sweet and sad are the tales, he would tell us, of the tears which he had caused to flow, tears refresing to human hearts. How many the aching heads he soothed, as did all his class, with the sweet music of the harp and the rich tones of his fine voice.
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Many, too, were the hearts that beat, high and warm, at his re- cital of deeds of reckless heroism or of gentle benefaction.
Joyously were the bards everywhere greeted, sheltered and fed ; their presence a blessing ; their songs a delight; their per- son sacred from harm, at the hand of even the deadliest foe.
Proudly, enthusiastically, do I make an offering to your inemory, O sweet poets of the past. [Places flowers in the chaplet.]
THE MUSIC OF THE LYRE :- Gazing, with my companions,. down the aisles of Time's grand memorial hall, listening to her, as she apostrophizes the last of the Irish bards, I seem to see, in the distance, a wonderful procession, headed by one whose brow, like the faces of the knights he has pictured, glitters with the light of noble thoughts.
"So mannerly is he and full of gentle grace, Of him every tongue is compelled to say, Here's the noblest of a noble race."
Father of the sons and daughters of the lyre, with Spencer, I greet thee-
" Great Chaucer, well of English undefiled,
On Fame's eternal bead-roll worthy to be filed."
And now my eye is gladdened by a view of him of pure character, elegant culture and genius rare, the "Fairy Queene " at his side and about him the knights of holy names. He stands, as it were, in the light of some rare stained window, glowing with the beauty and the wealth of his own descriptions and imagery.
Following this brilliant group, comes one bowed with grief,. but, on the luminous face, sit enthroned genius and resignation,. proclaiming him to be Robert Southwell, the martyr-poet.
O wonderful, O beautiful procession of lyric poets ! Note them, as they pass along this mystic pathway of recollection,- Young, his mantle gemmed with the stars and the radiance of of " Night Thoughts " on his brow; Thompson, with the flower- garlands and snow-wreaths of " The Seasons " about him ; Collins, with the " Passions " writhing beneath his gifted pen ; Dryden, with his matchless flow of language, is hastening to " The Feast of Alexander," while St. Cecilia hovers near. There is Gold --
-
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smith, " object of our laughter and our love, of our pity and our admiration "; there is Gray, mournful, stately and wise, and Burns, singing his songs of perennial freshness, in the sweetest of dia- lects ; his songs :
" Which gushed from his heart, As showers, from the clouds of summer, Or as tears from the eyelids start."
Slowly wending his melancholy way, comes Cowper, dear bard of the hearthstone, his morbid sensitiveness shrinking from the very fame that is, to the poet's heart, so dear.
We know them all so well, these dear spirits; their names household words; their sentiments part of our mental being; it seems scarcely possible that it is almost a century since the last named closed his melancholy career and found in death a peace and rest unknown to him in life.
Once more let us look upon the thrilling pageant-behold ! noble, magnificent, scoffing, sneering Lord Byron, the clouds about him, one while darkened by misanthropy, again, illumined by the lurid lightnings of base sentiments and violent passions ; yet there is sweetest music, as he passes, so charmingly do the words flow from his magic pen.
Byron gives place to Shelly, another " archangel with his heavenly light obscured "; he is the embodiment of the spirit of poesy, an ungrateful man, using the great gifts of a generous Creator against himself. Then comes Moore, magic song-singer, whose notes thrill every heart, in every land, where the English language is known; Keats, of promise fair and death too early ; Wordsworth,
" To whom the meanest flower that blooms can give Thoughts that do often lie too deep for tears ";
Tennyson, so great, in his poetic gifts, that even a queen's attempt to honor him did but cast a shadow upon his illustrious name, for Alfred Tennyson will ever be almost infinitely greater than Lord Tennyson.
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We are to make offerings in memory of these imperishable names ? Ah, lilies and pearls would I place on Chaucer's breast; glowing roses and flame-like rubies would I cast at Spencer's feet ! and thus, as the wondrous procession passes, would I throw, in the pathway of each inspired one, the flowers and gems most like his thought and mode of expression.
THE EPIC AND THE DRAMA :- In your love for the lyre, me- thinks you have failed to see some of the grandest figures in the wonderful procession of poets. The world is indeed happier, nobler and more heaven-like for the magic gift of song, but could we spare the majesty of the Epic, or the grandeur of the Dramatic poetry ? Lo, in the procession you have described, as Spencer's brilliant group, and Southwell's heavenly face pass away, there appears-a king ! ruler in a world sublimely intellectual, yet a world where exists the affections, the passions, the moralities and the anxieties of real life. A king? We might more aptly call him a creator, who waves the magic wand of his literary skill, and calls into existence beings of every grade of human intelli- gence and social standing; beings actuated by every degree of human feeling, from the wildest paroxysms of passion, to the softest delicacy of emotion. Volumes would not contain all that may be said of his genius and its wonderful achievements.
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