hated the incoming Irish, who were pour ing across the sea by thousands, and pushing themselves into employment at their expense. And the worst term of reproach that an Irishman could use was, "You're as bad as a Frinchman!" In Upper Canada Orangeism was all-powerful, and the Irish Roman Catholics felt themselves degraded by a proscription that was social rather than political, and that was none the less galling because it was often impalpable and never acknowledged. British America was infected with the cancer of a bitter sectarianism that fed itself fat on the memories of old national and religious quarrels. Our fathers had persecuted each other, therefore we should go on doing the same. Every emigrant brought with him to the New World a live coal from the ancient altar-fires, not merely to rekindle a pure flame on his own hearth, but, if possible, to burn down the homestead of his neighbour. The emblems and watchwords of old faction fights were lovingly cherished and paraded. There was no national sentiment, as in the United States, to dwarf them into insignificance; no healthy public opinion to kill them with ridicule.

Few clergymen can rise much above the level of their flocks. If the flock is animated by a common and deep-seated sentiment, the most that the average clergyman can be expected to do against it is to hold his tongue. The clergyman mixes only with his own people, and naturally sympathises with their grievances, real or fancied. And when both the parties are Celts, it is almost unavoidable that the two should act and react on each other. Even if the clergyman is wiser, he sees that rest is good, and that it is easier to swim with than against the current. If anything of an orator, it is pleasant to gain an easy popularity by trading on prejudices he himself partly sympathises with, and by giving articulate voice to the passions of masses of whom he is the acknow. ledged leader.

Now, Conolly was every inch an Irishman. Of humble parentage, he ever remained a man of the people. He knew well the wrongs they had endured in the past, and he sympathised with their national yearnings and their maddest efforts for deliverance. His style of speaking-profuse, homely, and, when he was excited, grandiose-was the very kind best adapted for

effective popular oratory. His position and learning gave force to what he said, while his vehemence-occasionally broken and enlivened by native humour-enabled him to sway an audience of his countrymen, and to find his way, when he liked, not only to their hearts, but far down into their pockets. Had he been a man of ordinary ambition he would have been the idol of his flock and a danger to the public peace and welfare. He could have cultivated what the religious newspapers call "a healthy denominational spirit" to an unlimited extent, and at his death he would have left the Protestants and the Roman Catholics of Canada more estranged than he had found them.

He had a higher and a rarer ambition. Sick at first of the feuds and the selfish aimless clashings everywhere in British America, and with a genuine Irish dislike of England, he looked to the United States with hope for a satisfactory solution of the Canadian question. But he was too close an observer for illusions to retain a permanent hold upon him. A study of facts and tendencies in the Republic dissipated the dream of his young Ireland days, and thenceforth Annexationism became in his eyes a heresy of the worst kind. The union of these Provinces into one country, the more closely connected with Britain the better, and with institutions modelled on hers-a country where Protestant and Roman Catholic should 'live and let live'-then became the aim of his life. To the carrying out of this aim he steadily lent thereafter all the influence of his position, tongue, and pen ; for though by nature impulsive, he had a strong will, and on all great matters his course was consistent throughout. With his statesmanlike breadth of view and sound judgment, he saw clearly that if Canada was to prosper, or even to exist, the feuds of past centuries and of the Old World must be forgotten, and a permanent peace be established between Protestants and Roman Catholics. Through the providence of God, they were in the one boat, they were pretty evenly divided, and three centuries of European history had proved that the one could not convert or pervert the other. This conception of a Peace of Westphalia for Canada, by a Roman Catholic prelate, is enough to show that he could look at the country from the standpoint, not of a clergyman, but of a statesman.

He himself describes in his voluble and vivid style the exasperation of races and religions that he found in British America. "On the occasion of my first visit to Canada," he says, "I saw that there was no fellowship, no bond of union, no common standpoint whatever between Protestant and Catholic; and what was still more extraordinary and unintelligible, the same rule obtained to a large extent between French and Irish. The three parties seemed to me to resemble three unleashed bull-dogs, more or less ferocious, let into the same enclosure for the mere purpose of worrying each other, without any imaginable benefit-nay, rather with sturdy unsightly cuts and ugly bruises, and positive and downright injury to the most successful among the three. In the Maritime Provinces also, the banners of the respective contending parties seemed 'Love God and hate your fellow-creature as heartily as possible." He avowed himself the friend of whatever man or party sought to mitigate this blighting sectarianism, and to fuse all classes and creeds in a common love of country. To none did he give such whole-souled admiration and love, and a more unswerving support, than to Thomas D'Arcy McGee, in whose genius, honesty, and unselfishness he thoroughly believed. McGee's crime for which he suffered, was, said the Archbishop in his funeral oration, "that for the last ten years he laboured to amalgamate Protestant and Catholic, French and Irish, into one body politic and social, in this happy land. I, too, in my own way, have been guilty of the same crime, and I confess it not with remorse, but with honest pride. For the true interests of the Catholic Church, and still more for the material as well as the spiritual welfare of the people committed to my care, I feel it as much my duty to conciliate Protestants, and to preserve heavenly peace and happiness in this land, as to preach a sermon or to perform any other portion of my Episcopal functions. I believe that my humble efforts in this particular have brought more real blessings of every kind on the Catholic community over which I preside, than all my other labours together. I found my people nine years ago in the turmoil of religious strife; and if I die today, thanks to God and to the co-operation of clergy and laity, I leave them without any polemical heartburnings,-in peace, happiness, and union with their fellow-citi

zens of every creed and class." Right noble words! Worthy of being pondered by every man and woman in Canada; by those especially who profess to be followers of the Prince of Peace, and shepherds of the flock of Christ.

One illustration may be given here to show that he spoke but the simple truth in 1868, in boasting somewhat of the religious concord that had sprung up in Nova Scotia, and grown and filled the land. When his predecessor died, the flag over Government House was hoisted at half-mast. The Protestantism of the Province rose in its might. The newspapers teemed with letters and editorials on the outrage. So violent was the storm, that the Government of the day quailed before it. The Governor's name (Lord Mulgrave's) had to be used to certify to the world that the act had been done not with the connivance of the Government, and not even by his own order; that an indiscreet Roman Catholic man-servant had done the deed proprio motu; and that in deference to public opinion, the said servant had received notice to quit. When all that is mortal of Archbishop Conolly was borne to the grave, Protestant church bells tolled; Protestant clergymen walked behind the Town Council in the long procession of mourners; the flag waved over Government House half-mast high, and no one opened his mouth against it or cheeped.

This work of making justice and peace kiss each other, was his great work in New Brunswick as well as in Nova Scotia. Though, on many accounts, the difficulties were greater in New Brunswick, he triumphed over them. Without sacrificing principle or his own dignity, in the teeth of obstacles from without and within, he persisted in his policy of conciliation. The New Brunswick school difficulty would never have threatened the stability of the Dominion, had Conolly remained Bishop of St. John. His judicious course two or three years ago, in dealing with a public agitation concerning the state of the schools in Halifax, sufficiently proves this. He knew what was possible and what was impossible in the community in which he lived. And he knew how to preserve much substance that otherwise would have been lost by not insisting too loudly on the form.

"It was Napoleon, I believe, who invariably asked, when hearing of a great man, What

did he do? It was not his genius, learning, or patriotism he cared for; nor what he said, nor what grand speeches, or promises, or professions he made. No! it was invariably what he did. It is not the power that slumbers, but it is power brought into action and tested by results-it is indomitable will and holy ambition, and energy, and industry, and high sense of honour and honesty, and the spirit of sacrifice, and a big heart, that makes the man of great intellectual power truly great in all the width of that expression." Thus he wrote in 1867, with reference to D'Arcy McGee. We may apply the passage to himself, and ask what better work can a citizen do than influence his fellow-citizens to lay aside long-cherished hates and suspicions, and cultivate a spirit of mutual brotherliness instead? His hospitality, his speeches, letters, conversation, sermons, his whole life tended to this one end. In prosecuting this life-work, a great love for Canada grew up within him. Never ceasing to be an Irishman, passionately adjuring his countrymen to cast out the demon of feuds and faction-fighting that had so long cursed them, warning them that until this was done they could not expect a blessing nor hope to exert their legitimate influence in the new country where they had built houses to leave to their children and children's children-he became none the less thereby, but all the more, a Canadian in every nerve and fibre. He identified himself with Canada, and believed in the great future that is before it. The future he foresaw was, however, no cloudland picture, not a future dissociated from the present, but one growing naturally out of the present. With his vigorous common sense he scouted the notion of separating from the Old Land, and breaking up the grandest Empire the world has ever seen. He was no theorist. He took his stand always on solid facts, and from that base would not be shaken. He was a truthful man himself, and was able therefore to estimate the respective value of facts and of visions.

He loved this Canada of ours. He valued his position as enabling him to do something for his country, and would not have exchanged it for any other that Church or State could have given him. His public policy was always openly avowed. The cultivation of a Canadian national spirit, or even our continued existence, was impossible without

Confederation; therefore Confederation was to him a matter of course. When others were led astray by party cries or entangled by illusions, the true policy was to him clear as a sunbeam. And when others were discouraged, he did not falter for a moment. "Had I foreseen how little Confederation was going to do for Halifax, I would have opposed it-and so I am sure would your Grace," remarked a gentleman to him not long ago. "If I had to do it all over again, I would do it again with all my heart and soul ! I advocated Confederation, not because it was going to make my fortune or yours, but because it was the best thing for all these great Provinces as a whole; and it will be the best thing for us in particular if we will be true to ourselves." Such was the answer he gave, and let us hope the gentleman profited by the application.

The attitude of such a man towards the Infallibility dogma could easily have been predicted. When he found that it was determined to force it on the Council, he was grieved to the soul. He had anticipated great pleasure in being present, but this terrible cup poisoned everything, and he felt miserable all the time he was in Rome. He viewed the dogma, not as Newman did, a mistake religiously, the triumph of "an insolent and aggressive faction in the Church, but a mistake politically, the inauguration of a policy which, if logically carried out, would create a hopeless impasse in the relations between Church and State everywhere. He saw that its tendency was to undo in Canada all that he had been labouring to do; that it would isolate the Roman Catholics and make Protestants suspicious. Accustomed to speak his mind freely, and more accustomed to debate and speech-making than the generality of his brethren, he bore a foremost part in the discussions. His boldness and power took theologians and prelates by surprise, and gave offence in the highest quarters. he freed his own soul. Publicly and pri vately, in the Council and out of it, he made no secret of his dislike to the new decrees, and to the unfairness of voting down prelates who represented millions of Roman Catholics by nominees of the Pope, who did not even represent themselves. But when the decrees were proclaimed, he submitted. Like most politicians and most churchmen in similar circumstances, he had—with a wry

But

"sic volo, sic jubeo" was the supreme reason, beyond which they need not enquire. From the people he exacted implicit obedience in all the realm over which his prerogative, as their spiritual head, extended. Personally, he was a kind, impulsive, lovable man;

It is not our intention to analyse or go over in detail the mental features or other characteristics of Archbishop Conolly, nor to speak much of him as a theologian and preacher, nor of his personal and social life. He liked to preach, and he preached as earnestly to little backwoods congregations as in crowded cathedrals. Though he enjoyed life so heartily that with many his reputation was that of a bon vivant, he fasted more rigorously, preached oftener, and worked harder than any of his clergy. In preaching, his style was to present and dwell upon broad massive views of truth, discarding all subtleties and over-refining. In ruling, he magnified his office as an Archbishop, a Prince of the Church. He never shrank from undertaking responsibility. He did many a thing because convinced that in the circumstances nothing better could be done, and that delay meant loss, though convinced also that he might be called upon at Rome to answer for his action. To priest, or dignitary, or religious in the diocese, his

meanest person attached to his household. Free from hauteur at all times, he was at his best socially when with only two or three others. He was true as steel to friends, and chose for his friends those whom he believed to be true.

Considering how much influence for good or evil a man in his position always has, it is matter for congratulation that at the beginning and at a great crisis in our early history as a Dominion, such a man as he occupied the position. Despising ephemeral applause, and going counter, regretfully, to the instincts and the prejudices of many of his own people, who were Protestant enough to resent and resist his public policy, he sought earnestly the general good, and laboured for that which would endure. The importance of his labours it would be difficult to over estimate. When in after years the history of Canada comes to be written, we doubt not that his name will be honoured as one who toiled self-sacrificingly to lay our foundations and build our walls, and who died in faith that his work would not die.

TH

HE political mill has been kept in motion during the past month upon very little grist. It "grinds exceeding small," but it has to do only with small things, and the results are not by any means proportionate to the amount of energy expended upon them. Three years have elapsed since the Pacific Railway matter was the subject of investigation, and yet the party journals are engaged in discussing it as if it were a perennial whose freshness can never cease to bloom. The attempt to keep it alive by transplanting and watering is perhaps a proof of the growing imbecility of the dominant party; but the Opposition is not without blame. In its eagerness to welcome a fancied reaction, it has begun to glory in its shame. Even Mr. Brown can plead on behalf of his "big push" letter the prevailing practice of the time, and Sir John Macdonald claims as a sufficient apology for his little slip, at the same election, that it was an error of the head and not of the heart," "imprudent and indiscreet," but. by no means deserving of ostracism. In a way, they are both right, if only a clean breast were made of it. When Lord Bacon was arraigned for corruption, he simply pleaded guilty and threw himself upon the mercy of the Court, although he had a far better case than either Mr. Brown or Sir John Macdonald. He lived at a time when, from the King upon the throne downwards, there was an unquenchable thirst for pelf. Peerages were sold, honours ceased to be honourable; trade monopolies were farmed , out to wealthy buyers, or bestowed upon unworthy favourites; justice was proverbially venal. All this Bacon might have urged in extenuation of his faults; indeed he might have proved himself, on the whole, an elevator of "the standard of purity," but he preferred to be silent, not merely because he knew his enemies had prevailed at Court, but because he felt that the sins of the age could not be pleaded as an excuse for his

own.

But in the case of our party leaders, no such excuse can be offered, and no such

open confession of culpability has ever been made. The Pacific Scandal was the natural effect of a base attempt to traffic upon a great work. At the same time, we believe that the actual guilt of the offence was greatly exaggerated, and the tricks of the prosecution were certainly base enough for the meanest of the detective tribe. Even now Sir John Macdonald cannot give his soft "peccavi" without being unjustly charged with boasting of what he did, and of announcing his intention to repeat the offence at the first opportunity. The verdict of the country. has been unmistakably pronounced upon the matter, and the ex-Premier has too much tact to dispute it; in point of fact, he has not done so. When the moral indignation of the people is aroused, it is apt to take colour from the exaggerations of partisans who have an interest-a selfish interest-in raising it to white heat; but a sober second thought moderates the fury of the furnace, and turns its attention to matters of more immediate concern. In short, men have done their duty in the matter of the "Scandal," the offence has been punished,. and order taken that it shall not be repeated at any time to come..

The question of comparative purity, as between the old Government and the new, is the only one of even incidental importance at present. The Pacific Scandal has been discussed and adjudicated upon long since; what the public desires to ascertain now is, whether the soi-disant purists were not "tarred with the same stick." If so,. the only ground on which the latter attained power-and they have not made too patriotic a use of it-glides from beneath their feet. There may be a chance, perhaps, of purifying the atmosphere of scandal or slander, and emerging again into the clear and incisive conflict of principle. A party which can only exist upon the old transgressions of its opponents is in a fair way of losing its hold upon the country. Now, so far as much of the retort-not always "courteous

"

of the Opposition is concerned, we prefer to be silent, not only because the subject is