Irish homes and Irish hearts

Front matter

IRISH HOMES and IRISH HEARTS.

LONDON

PRINTED BY SPOTTISWOODE AND CO.

Chapter I

New aspect of Irish Life.—Religious Institutions.—A glance into the past.—Penal Laws; their effect in Ireland.—The ancient places.— St. Patrick’s Day, 1715.—Beginning of better days.—The Charter Schools; State of Education.—HanoriaNagle; her Childhood.—Life in Paris.—Court of Louis XV.—The Ball.—The first Mass.—State of Irish Poor.—Doubt and Indecision.—A Vocation.—The first School at Cork.—The three R.’s—The Ursuline Nuns.—Irish Novices. —St. Denis and Madame Louise.—An Easter Song.— Disappoint¬ ment.—The ‘Presentation order.’—Christmas, 1777.—Miss Nagle’s Letters.—Her character; her great sufferings; her peaceful death. —Progress of the Order, 1791. —Convent at George’s Hill, Dublin

Chapter II

The Irish Sisters of Charity, not Sceurs de Charite—Dr. Murray.—Mary Aitkenhead ; her great beauty.—Rule of these Sisters.—St Vincent’s Hospital; its home-like look.—The Chapel.— Leaving Hospital.— Sufferings of the Patients.—The Sanatorium.—Blackrock Station.— Pleasant Walk.—A Castle.—Comfort of the House.—A 7 iew from the Tower.—A sort of Paradise.— Stanhope Street Convent.— Irish Servants.—Cousins in America.— Schools in Gardiner Street.—The Epistles.—Beauty of the Children.—St. Catherine’s Home.—Want of Work. — Donnybrook Green. — Magdalene Asylum. — Peculiar Management.—The two Systems.—Struggles and Victories.—Beauty of the Chapel.—The Cemetery.—Grave of the Foundress; her pic¬ ture ; her character.—Feast of St. Mary Magdalene.—Harold’s Cross.— St. Augustine’s Day.—Profession of a Nun. — Exquisite Chapel.—The Procession.—The Vows.—Dress of the Sisters.—Home for the Blind.—Happiness of the Children.—Admirable Management.

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CONTENTS.

—God’s Cloister.—Misery of a blind Child.—The Listening Look.— Intelligence of the Blind.—Care they require.—Labour for the Blind.— The dying Child.—Faith.—Education of the Blind.—Play acted by them.—‘Come to Old Ireland.’—House at Merrion.—Beauty of the spot.—Laying a first stone.—Promise for the future . . page 20

Chapter III

Katherine McAuley.—Her cell as a novice.—Sisters of Mercy.—Their rapid spread.—Dr. Forbes’s ‘ Memorandums.’—Form of Govern¬ ment.—Convent in Baggot Street.—The three works of the Order.— House of Mercy.—Branch Houses.—Jervis Street Infirmary; its Charter.—Arrival of the Sisters.—A Wedding in Hospital.—The Mater Misericordise Hospital.—Its Size and Importance.—Cost of Erection.—Dr. Bristowe’s Report.—The Cholera of 1866.—Great good wrought in this Hospital.—No Distinction of Creed.—Pleasing Contrast.—The new wing.—The Mediaeval System.—Report of the Council.—Speech of Judge O’Hagan.—The Cardinal Archbishop.—A Palace for the Poor.—Golden Bridge Refuge.—Reformation of a Prisoner.— ‘No Character .’—Mountjoy Prison.—The Sisters’ Influence over the Prisoners. — Matron of Mountjoy. — Prison School.— Chapels of the Prison.—The Infant School.—Touching Sight.—The Refuge.—Ingenious Arrangements.—Mother Mary Magdalene.—Suc¬ cess of her Work.—Deep Penitence of the Convicts.—A Deserted Childhood.—A Love Story.—Its ending.—The Mother’s Remorse.— Romantic Histories.—Future of the Convicts.—A Bargain.—An Escape.—Mother Magdalene’s influence.—The Return Ticket.— ‘A good look at you.’—Manufacture of Lindsey.—Looms and Weaving.—Finances of the Refuge.—Justice of the Government 41

Chapter IV

Blind Asylum for Boys.—The Shop.—Discomfort and Dirt.— Want of care.—Teachers for the Blind not easily found.—Reform needed.— Deaf-mutes.—School Time.—Trades for the Boys.—Difficulty of their Education.—Their ‘ Study.’—Their idea of Heaven.—The Race of Deaf-mutes.—M. Sicard.—Census of 1863.—Two Classes of Boys.— The Christian Brothers.—Orphanage of St. Vincent de Paul.—Deaf and Dumb Girls.—Silence.—The Ave Maria.—Burning Sins.—A deaf-and-dumb Nun.—Glasnevin Cemetery.—O’Connell’s Grave . 67

CONTENTS.

IX

Chapter V

Foreign Orders.—Time for them.—Sisters of St. Vincent de Paul.— White Bonnets.—North William Street.—The new Orphanage.—The young Men in Dublin.—Artificial Flowers.—Sunday School.—Rich¬ mond.—The Lunatic Asylum.—St. Vincent’s Care for the Insane.— Sad Spectacle.—State of the Patients.—An Attack.—The Convent next door.—Noisy Neighbours.—A Sacrifice.—The first Benediction. —The Nuns’ Cemetery.—Strange Sounds.—Terrible Sight.—Success of the Asylum.—Petty Spite: the cup of Coffee.—Strange Phenomenon. —Lucid Intervals; use to be made of them.—Versatility of the Order of St. Vincent.—The lingerie of Val de Grace .—The most forsaken.—Self-abnegation.—Nursing Sisters ; their usefulness.— Their House and Chapel.—Suburbs of Dublin.—High Park Convent. —Reformatory Children.—Miniature Prisoners.—Contrast with Penitents.—Sad Stories.—Encouragements.—Want of Employment. —The Canny Scot—Vespers.—Order of the Good Shepherd.—All Hallows College.—Nuns of the Sacred Heart.—The Queen and Mr. Dargan.— The Phoenix Park.—Mount Sackville.—The Strawberry Beds.—St. Dominic’s Convent.—The Birds’ Nest.—Kingstown Or¬ phanage.—Baking bread.—Happy looking Children . . page 77

Chapter VI

Sisters of the Faith.—St. Brigid’s Orphanage.—Painful Subject.—Souperism.—The Irish Famine.—Patience of the People.—Generosity of England—The Irish Church Missions.—English Gold.—Truth and Honour.—‘Good-bye.’—‘Jumping.’—Sale of Children.—St. Brigid’s Society ; its Object; mode of Management.—Irish Peasants.—Giving Prizes.—Miss Aylward and her Imprisonment.—Schools.—Glasnevin the Home of Saints.—Foster-parents in Ireland.—A Home.—Vexed Question of Orphanages.—Necessity of two Systems.—Economy of St. Brigid’s.—Routine Life and its Effects.'—Answers to Objections.— Girls and Boys.—Want of good Servants.—Mistakes on this head.— The French Plan.—A Christmas Box.—The Idiot Child and his Fostermother.—The Night Refuge; its great good.—Classes of Applicants. —The Mass on Christmas Night.—A scanty Supper.—The Refugees. —The Founder of the Refuge.—His Labours for it.—Weekly Report of Numbers admitted.—Bridget Burke and her good Works.— The first Penny.—Result of Faith.—The Old Maids’ Home.—Need of Im-

X

CONTENTS.

provement.—An aged Matron.—A Fairy wand.—Guilds in Dublin ; their Spirit.—Church of St. Francis Xavier.—Saturday Evening and Sunday Morning.—Ceremonial.—Faith of the Irish . page 95

Chapter VII

Drogheda.—The River Boyne.—A twofold Character.—A Gothic Poor House.—Cromwell’s Batteries.—Church of Mpunt Carmel.—Horrors of the Siege.—St. Peter’s Church.—‘ None spared.’—Monks in Drog¬ heda.—The white Cornette.—A Banker’s Clerk.—Home for Factory Girls.—Cheap Living.—Bill of Fare.—Life at a Factory.—Night School.—Merriment.—A sad Prospect.—The travelling Pedlar.—The three Orphans.— Gate of St. Lawrence.—Sienna Convent.— Oliver Plunkett.—‘ Little Catherine.’—A mud Cabin.—The new Convent.— Woman’s Wit.—Traditions.—The Rule of St. Dominic.—Chanting in the Choir.—The ‘ Salve.’—Relic of Archbishop Plunkett.—His Grave in St. Giles’s.—His Head sent to Rome.—The Shrine for the Relic.— Memories of the Past.—The last Martyr under the Penal Laws.— The ‘ Cord.’—The ‘ Nuns’ Walk.’—A singular Costume.—Magdalene Tower.—Monasterboice.—A short Visit to England . . Ill

Chapter VIII

View of Newry.—Confusion of Stations.—Misfortunes.—‘ No one at the other end.’—An ‘ Orange ’ Hotel.—A strange Question and Answer.— Cathedral at Newry.—1830.—The Poor Clares.—Assault from the Orangemen.—Shooting at a Nun.—Fenians and Orangemen.—Grounds of St. Clare’s.—Story of a Nun.—The Cemetery.—Changes wrought by Time.—Breaking the Enclosure.—Poor Schools.—Convent Chapel. —Relics.—Sisters of Mercy.—Sounds of Woe.—Foundation at Lurgan.—Rostrevor.—Beauty of the Spot.—The Church andConvent. —The Cow House.—Soupers again.—A strange Query and a merry Laugh.—Carlow, the Garden of Erin.—Dr. Doyle.—St. Patrick’s College.—Sisters of Mercy.—Middle Schools a want of the present day.— Castes. —Boys’ School.—A Welcome.—Limerick Races.-—The Shannon.—The old Monk and the Bells.—The Cathedrals, new and old.—A new Convent springing from an ancient one.—Schools.— St. Vincent’s Orphanage.—The Workhouse Infirmary.—New mode of management and its success.—Comfort of the Patients.—Christians, not Dogs.—Class of Infirmary Patients.—Work of the Sisters.— A Great Victory.—Hope for the Future.—The ‘ Protestant Wards.’

CONTENTS.

XI

—Justice to a Minority.—Contrast to England.—Expenditure of the Infirmary.—A Poor Man’s Right.—The large spirit of the Limerick Guardians, their Infirmary a model one.—Convent of the Good Shepherd.—An Heroic Soul.—Asylum and Reformatory

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Chapter IX

Beauty of Cork.—The River Lee and the Cove.—Blarney Castle.— Father Mathew’s Statue; the Cemetery which he laid out; his grave; his sanctity.—Church of S. Peter and Paul, its magnificence. —A contrast.—Ireland then and now.—Confraternity of Girls; its usefulness.—A sad Answer and a sad Fate.—A ‘Romance in Real Life.’—£20,000 soon lost.—A Sick Bed and a Desolate Mother.— A Ruth-like Life. — Letters home. — Strange News. — A Long Journey.—A Proposal.—Refusal.—The Dying Officer.—The Christian Brothers and their progress.—Our Lady’s Mount and its Schools. —Mode of Education.—A ‘ Special Correspondent.’—Rather a Surprise.—By a French Artist.—The British Public.—The Chapel Lamp. — Instances of Gratitude. — Gerald Griffin.— Visit to his Grave.—His Letters from Cork.—His Life in London.—Fame.—The ‘ Colleen Bawn.’—Presentiment fulfilled.—The Magdalene Asylum and a peculiar feature of it.—St. Marie’s of the Isle.—The Hospital.— Sunday’s Well.—The Mary Street Home.—Workhouse Girls, their deplorable fate.—Experiment tried.—Its Difficulties and its Success.— Stoppage of the good Work.—Expenses of the Home.—The value of £400.—The Slave Trade.—Good Sense.—Mode of Training.—Kinsale and its History.—Beauty of the Place.—The Convent and Schools.— Rapid increase of the Community.—A great Sacrifice generously made.—Sisters in the East.141

Chapter X

Killarney and the Rain.—Disappointment.—The Cathedral.—A Dark Night.—Picturesque Scene.—Lodgings.—The Jackdaws and the Smoke.—An Irish Trait.—Honesty.—Drive to Ivenmare.—The Autumn tints.—In the Mountains.—Abbey of Holy Cross.—The Church and Convent.—The * Sanctus Bell.’—Church Music.— Olden Times.—Poverty of the People.—Want of Employment.— Emigration.—The Tourist Season.—Distress among the Children.— Literature.—Works of a Religious of this Convent.—History of Ireland.—Sunday at Kenmare.—A Remarkable Sermon. — The

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CONTENTS.

‘Parish Church.’— Soupers again. —Bad Weather. — Charleville. — Contrast with Killmallock.—Earls of Desmond. A Journey Thirty Years Ago.—Sisters of Mercy in the Provinces.—Instances of Generosity.—The ‘ Holy Ship.’—A long Good-bye . . page 162

Chapter XI

Oranmore.—Effects of Emigration.—The Line from Dublin.—Glimpse of Maynooth.—Athlone and its History.—Irish Manners.—A Crop of Stones.—No Work to do.—Our Lady’s Priory.—A Village Convent. —Sister of Gerald Griffin.—Boys’ School.—Galway and its Memories. —View of the Bay.—Nuns’ Island.—History of the House, a Romance.—Poor Clares from Gravelines.—The Lady Deputy.— Persecution of the Nuns.—Exile from Dublin.—A Shadowy Bog.— Lough Ree.—The Duchess of Buckingham.—Cromwell’s Soldiers drive out the Nuns.—The Exile’s Death.—Poundation in Galway.— Petition to the Corporation.—The Island.—Galway Surrenders.— The House in Market Street.—May the 1st.—Ghosts in Choir.— Fresh Troubles.—Journey to London.—Queen Caroline of Anspach. —Restoration of the Island.—The New Convent.—A Long Inter¬ regnum.— The ‘Dear Island.’—Past and Present.—Workhouse Infirmary.—Serving of the Dinners.—Workhouse Children.—Dis¬ graceful Fact.—District Schools.—Acts of Parliament.—Churches in Galway.176

Chapter XII

Loughrea Convent of Mount Carmel.—The Friars.—Sister Teresa.— The Milliner’s Shop.—St. Joseph and the Piece of Gold.—Faith in Prayer.—A Search for Nuns.—The Beggar Woman.—The ‘Upper Chamber.’—A Wish fulfilled.—Brighter Times.—The Rule relaxed. Mother Magdalene’s Prayer.—‘ Painting the Dead.’—A Call from God.—The Rule of St. Teresa restored.—A second Avila.—Feelings raised by a visit to Mount Carmel.—The Crown of Ireland’s work.— Catholic countries.—Work and contemplation exist together.—Calm of a Convent for Prayer.—What England has Done.—Need of Con¬ templation at the present day.—Sisters of Mercy at Loughrea.— Journey to Gort.—The Rain.—Coming home from Market.—An Irish Welcome.—A quiet Town.—Situation of the Convent.—The Oak

CONTENTS.

Xlll trees.—The Matin office.—The Churchyard Cross.—Scene in the Chapel.—Costume of the People.—An Irish Sermon.—An attentive Audience.—Kilmacduagh.—The Kils in Ireland.—Alarming Story. —Seven Churches.—Ruins of a Convent.—A Leaning Tower.— Lough Cooter.—The Priest and his People.—The Castle Grounds.— Departure of Emigrants.—Sad Partings.—A new Bonnet.—Wages in America.—Clare Abbey.—Irish Railways . . . page 193

Chapter XIII

Institutions in Dublin not visited.—Christian Brothers.—Monagan and Glencree.—The Sisters of Loretto.—Mrs. Ball.—Rathfarnham Abbey. —Beautiful suburbs of Dublin.—Easy access.—Dalkey Island.—The Convent.—Bray and its Head.—Lovely prospect.—Loretto Abbey and Schools.—Drumcondra.—The ‘Red Nuns.’—St. Alphonsus Liguori. —Benediction.—Carmelites in Dublin.—Mitigation of the rule.— Carmelites in France.—Rule of St. Teresa.—Pere de Ravignan.— Sandymount and Lakelands Orphanage.—Anxiety of the Nuns.— Restoration of the rule.—Ranelagh.—Poor Clares at Harold’s Cross.— Work of the Nuns.—Their future.—The ancient rule of St. Clare.— Benada Abbey.—A Dying Wish.—Its perfect fulfilment.—Feast of St. Austin’s.—An Augury of Better Days ..... 208

Chapter XIV

Impressions of Ireland.—The Fenians.—Loyalty of the Irish.—Looking back to the past.—Irish History little known in England.—‘ A Na¬ tion’s Woe.’—Revelations.—The Cromwellian Settlement.—October 1652.—Transplantation.—A Friar in disguise.—Connaught,—Ancient names of the Exiles.—Touching Appeals for Mercy.—The work ac¬ complished.—Desolation of the Country.—Battle of the Boyne.—The Penal Laws, their Effect on the People.—Catholic Emancipation.— Recovery after Oppression.—Justice to Ireland.—The badge of Con¬ quest.—County Clare.—An orthodox Clerk.—Souperism.—Ministers to Irish Discontent.—An ‘ Aconite.’—The Bishop of Oxford.—Irish Church Missions and Dr. Forbes.—Fifty miles of ‘ Converts.’— Doubtful Statements.—The ‘ Stirabout Creed.’—Religion of the Yellow Stick.—Souperism and the Established Church.—The High Church Schools.—An aged Priest.—Souper Placards and Fenianism.— Nationality of the Irish.—The way in which they are ruled.—Faults of the People.—Irish Homes and Irish Hearts.—Success and Failure. —Hope for the future.217

IRISH HOMES and IRISH HEARTS.

Chapter I

There is certainly no lack of books about Ireland. f Tours ’ and 4 Visits ’ to, and 4 Sketches ’ and 4 Scenes ’ in, the Emerald Isle abound on all sides ; and at the present time the subject of Ireland is in everybody’s mouth, and her wants and their remedies, her short¬ comings and her difficulties, are discussed on all sides. I do not desire to follow in this beaten track, or to enter into a disquisition on these vexed questions; my object is only to show an aspect of Irish life as it hap¬ pened to come under my notice—an aspect which I believe is little known in England, but which gives a stranger a very fair idea of Irish hearts and Irish homes. I would speak of that marvellous net of re¬ ligious institutions spread over the land, and of those deeds of charity, which in reality form a powerful element in Irish life.

It would greatly tend, I believe, to a right under¬ standing of the state of the country, the character of the people, and her prospects for the future, if we would take due account of the religious and charitable institutions which have risen on Irish soil, and which have been for

B the most part originated and brought to maturity by the Irish nation themselves. Of late years the attention of English people has often been drawn to the admir¬ able religious and charitable institutions of France and Belgium, and they have interested us, not only on account of their excellence and their number, but also because of the wonderful celerity with which they sprung up after a long convulsion of anarchy and irreligion. Still more worthy, then, are the religious institutions of Ireland of notice, for they have risen up and flourished in spite of greater difficulties than have ever been contended against in any country in Europe.

To understand them thoroughly it is absolutely ne¬ cessary to take a glance into the past history of Ireland. It is often made a matter of reproach to the Irish, that they dwell so exclusively in the history of the past as to unfit themselves for the duties of the present. I believe this evil would be greatly obviated if English people would remember what Irish people would perhaps do well to forget. For if it be unwise for the descendants of the injured to brood over the injuries which cannot now be effaced, it surely is well and fitting for the descendants of those who were the aggressors to regret the folly and injustice of their ancestors, and thus if possible, by a generous sympathy, to heal the rankling sore handed down from father to son.

Few things strike the English visitor to Ireland more than the different effect which religious persecution and penal laws, existing for two centuries, have wrought in that country, as compared with their influence in Eng¬ land. In the latter, slowly but surely they accomplished

IRISH HEARTS.

their end, gradually destroying the priesthood, and so blotting out the faith from the hearts of the people. The middle classes and the poor were rent from the ancient faith, and catholicity lingered only among a remnant of the nobility and gentry, and found its refuge within the walls of a few mansions whose owners bore an ancient and a stately name. Religious houses were swept from the land, and men and women who wished to consecrate themselves to God were compelled to seek a refuge on foreign shores. But in Ireland the case was different. In vain were bishops and priests hunted like wild beasts, their heads being sought for in common with those of w T olves ;* in vain was it enacted that to harbour them should be punished with death,f their faithful people would not betray them ; they were hidden 4 in deserts, in mountains, in dens, and in caves of the earth,’ loved and honoured by their scattered and suffering flocks as the priesthood of no other country had ever been. As in England, the devastator’s hand threw down the monasteries and the abbeys which had overspread the land, but the hearts of the people clung to them still. The 4 ancient places ’ of Ireland have never been deserted; still to this day the people carry their dead to rest beneath the shade of some old priory, or by the ruins of the churches which were once

Set like stars around some saintly hermitage.}

* ‘ The second beast is a priest, on whose head we lay ten pounds— if he he eminent more.’— Burton’s Parliamentary Diary, 1657.

f ‘And for the Jesuits, priests, fryers, munks, and nunnes, 20 u will be given to any that can bring certain intelligence where any of them are. And whosoever doth harbour or conceal any one of them is to forfeit life and estate .’—Several Proceedings in Parliament, from 21 st to 28 th of November, 1650, p. 912. } Keble.

Though long ages have passed since the Church’s offices have ceased, and the wind whistles through the broken arches, and the birds build their nests on the ivy-covered walls, the voice of prayer is rarely silent: pilgrim after pilgrim has told the f round of the beads’ by each ruined altar; and when sorrow and anguish are more than usually heavy on the soul, the mourner will take long journeys bare-foot along the roughest roads to offer up petitions where the bones of the saints are resting. As in England, the parish churches of the land were confiscated to the state religion, but their ministers had to content themselves with bare walls and empty benches; the people fled from them to mud cabins or mountain caves, or, if these failed, the blue sky was their canopy, and a heap of stones their altar. In one point only did these cruel enactments succeed : they almost entirely destroyed the religious orders, especially those for women ; nuns in their habit were dragged before magistrates, and driven as criminals from the cities. Here and there they lingered still, putting on secular attire, and often begging their bread; but the great mass of religious women, and a large proportion of men, were either banished from their native shores or died unable to leave others to fill their places. But by those who were left the battle was bravely and resolutely fought through the lapse of two long centuries, and in 1745 , when England had become thoroughly Protestant, Ireland remained Catholic to its core. In the reiom of

O

James the First, Lord-Deputy Chichester had been forced to exclaim, c I know not how the attachment to the Catholic Church is so deeply rooted in the hearts of

IRISH HEARTS.

the Irish, unless it be that the very soil is infected with popery.’ His successor in the reign of George the Second could have endorsed his remark, and yet it is a fact that up to St. Patrick’s Day, 1745, not one single place of Catholic worship, of that faith professed by a ichole nation , was allowed by the law to be open. On that morning a crowd of jieople assembled in an old warehouse in Dublin to hear mass; the pressure was too great, the floor gave way, and nine persons, includ¬ ing the officiating priest, were crushed to death. The calamity attracted the notice of government and per¬ mission to open Catholic churches, carefully called 4 chapels,’ was accorded. And now that light was be¬ ginning to dawn, and the worst heat of the battle was over, the generals of the army had time to count up the ravages that the war had wrought, and to prepare for the future. For the conflict was not yet over. Very slowly and very grudgingly justice was meted out. 4 The government discountenanced, and the laws absolutely prohibited, any education by Catholics. The people were sunk in the lowest state of political degra¬ dation. They were silent—and history makes no men¬ tion of their sufferings—but it was the silence of despair.’ Nor was the danger only a negative one. Finding that all efforts had failed to bring over the adult Irish to the new religion, and having totally deprived them of the means of educating their children in their own way, the advocates of Protestantism endeavoured to sap the faith of Ireland by drawing its children into their own schools. In 1743 there were forty-seven charter schools, into which every effort was made to draw Catholic chil¬ dren. 4 On entering them,’ writes an Irish priest,

‘ their names are changed so that they may have no communication with their parents, and after a little time they are transferred to another parish that the isolation may be more complete. Premiums are given to those who show most proficiency in the catechism, which is composed purposely for these schools and is nothing but a continuous invective against the Catholic church. . . . They get portions on condition that they marry Protestants with the consent of the directors of the schools.’ To these schools no less than one million was voted by Parlia¬ ment. There were various others of the same kind, and it was then law that all children of Catholics who asked for relief should be brought up as Protestants.

At such an unpropitious time as this, and in the face of these tremendous difficulties, the first new order in Ireland sprung into being. Its foundress was a Miss Hanoria Nagle, who was born at Cork in 1728, and whose family was closely connected with that of the celebrated Father Mathew. Miss Nagle was not one of those children who give very early indications of being marked out to do an extraordinary work. It is recorded of her that she was particularly wayward, and gave her mother much uneasiness; but that her father would sometimes take her part and declare she c would be a saint yet.’ Perhaps there was a strength of character and an intensity of will in the giddy child which made him foresee that if she once turned with earnestness to serve God, it would not be done bv halves. Unable, as all families of the upper classes in Ireland then were, to procure the necessary education for their children at home, Miss Nagle was sent to Paris. Her

IRISH HEARTS.

7'

education finished, she was plunged into a round of gaiety and dissipation very easily to be found in the brilliant court of Louis XV. But the gay, frivolous girl had a noble destiny before her ; and in the midst of her enjoyment a Divine voice made itself heard in her heart. There had been a grand ball in Paris, and the morning dawned ere the most eager of the pleasureseekers—and among them Miss Nagle—were willing to quit the scene. At last her carriage rolled through the empty silent streets, and she, wearied and jaded at last, felt that sad void in the heart which so often suc¬ ceeds worldly pleasures. Suddenly her attention was arrested by a group of people standing at a church door.

They were poor—those whom hard labour scarcely permits to snatch the necessary hours for sleep ; yet they were willing to forego some of this brief repose, that they might spend a short time with God. In order to be in time for the first mass, they were at the church doors before they Avere open. The silent lesson went with powerful force to Miss Nagle’s heart. When she and they, she mused, should stand before the judgment-seat to give an account of their time, Iioav different Avould their ansAver be ! Tears floA\ r ed from her eyes, and she resolved from that moment God should be to her all in all—a resolution she faithfully kept. She determined to leave the gay Avorld of Paris and return to Ireland.

She at once began to occupy herself in such Avorks of charity as Avere AAuthin her reach; and the lamentable state of her poor country people thus forced itself on her notice, and the very magnitude of the evil appalled her. What could she, single-handed, do amidst such a wilderness ? She had no private fortune ; and none of her friends were likely to second her efforts and enter into her views. Catholics of all classes had hardly done more than begin to breathe in safety ; and the richer and educated naturally desired to lead a quiet life, and not to stir up fresh animosity.

One course only, therefore, seemed open to Miss Nagle; it was to return to France and there enter a religious order, devoting herself in prayer and penance as a victim for the sorrows and woes of her beloved country. So she bade farewell to all she loved, and sailed for France. But she was not at rest. A voice was whispering in her heart that the path she had chosen was not the one destined for her. She reasoned and debated with herself: one day thinking herself under a delusion ; the next, unable by that solution to stifle her doubt. Morning and night the thought of Ireland haunted her; and little children seemed to stretch out their hands to her for aid. Again and again she argued with herself, what could she do ? Had she not proved it to be useless and hopeless ? But no argument could quiet her mind. At last she resolved on seeking counsel from the Fathers of the Society of Jesus in Paris, in whose discernment and wisdom she had great confidence. To them she laid open 4 the agitation of her mind, her settled disgust for the world, her ardent desire for the religious state, her feeling for the poor of her own country, her strong propensity to contribute to their relief; that, from the first moment she discovered their ignorance, she could never divest herself of the thought; but that she attributed all to her heated imagination. As matters

IRISH HEARTS.

stood, it was morally impossible for her to be of service to them. The penal laws were an insuperable bar, and she had no pecuniary resources. Her constitution was delicate; yet though the prospect before her if she returned was wretched and hazardous, and almost hopelesss, she felt inwardly impelled to folloAv it, she knew not why.’

She poured out her heart, and then she hoped her delusions would vanish, and her path to the convent be smooth and easy. A very different decision was given. ‘ She was called,’ said her guides, 4 not to re¬ ligious life at that moment, but to instruct ignorant children in Ireland.’ The want of money and freedom to act, and the existence of penal laws, Avere no matter; she must c do what she could.’

So astonished was Miss Nagle at such counsel, that she ventured to argue the point and to remonstrate; but all in vain; the decision remained the same. Then she entirely submitted herself to the Divine will, thus made known to her, and prepared herself for a life of toil, anxiety, and hardship.

Miss Nagle’s parents were then dead, and the only home she had to return to was that of a married brother, who resided at Cork. Thither she went, and soon learned that a rich uncle had determined to make her his heiress, provided her conduct was such as should please him. Nothing could be more likely to displease both him and her brother than to carry out her intention of founding a school for poor children. But her pur¬ pose was fixed, and she commenced her work. Deter¬ mining to act with all possible prudence, she began in secret.

The first Catholic school in Cork was opened, and thirty children were gathered into it; and the young lady, not long before a Parisian belle, found her greatest pleasure in its care and management. Of course, as she expected, in time the secret came to her family’s ears, and a storm burst on her devoted head. But, angry as her relations were, they could not help admiring her patience and self-denial, and their op¬ position changed into warm support.

Her uncle died, and left her his whole fortune en¬ tirely at her own disposal. In nine months the children had grown into two hundred, and she was compelled by eager demands to open schools for boys as well as for girls; so that she soon had five schools for girls and two for boys under her care.

It is true their education was not up to the mark of the c Revised Code.’ In secular knowledge they were confined to the three R.’s; but they learned the catechism, were taught to say their beads, were brought to mass and to monthly confession.

‘ Twice a year,’ said Miss Nagle, ‘I prepare a set for first communion; and I may truly say it is the only thing that gives me any trouble. In the first place, I think myself very incapable ; and in the be¬ ginning, being obliged to speak for upwards of four hours, and my chest not being as strong as it had been, I spat blood, which I took care to conceal, for fear of being prevented from instructing the poor. ... If every¬ one thought as little as I do of labour, they would have very little merit. I often think my schools will never bring me to heaven, as I only take delight and pleasure in them.... I can assure you my schools are

IRISH HEARTS.

beginning to be of service to a great many parts of the world. This is a place of great trade. They are heard of, and my views are not for one object alone. If I could be of any service in saving souls in any part of the globe, 1 would do all in my power.’.

And doubtless her work did not end there. The children poured out from her schools, and were lost to sight; they bore with them the seeds she had sown; and who can tell what fruit they brought forth—what treasure was lying stored up for her in eternity when, her long life ended, she went to her reward ?

One sorrow only troubled her; she felt that her work was temporary, and that at her death the fabric she had raised might probably fall to the ground. Neither had the desire for religious life ever left her heart. She therefore formed the idea of inviting a religious community to come over from France and undertake the work ; and her project was approved of by Father Doran, S.J., and his nephew the Abbe Moylan, afterwards Bishop of Cork.

In 1769 an application was made to the Ursuline house in Paris, which had been founded sixty years before by the saintly Madame Acarie. But the thought of an Irish foundation terrified the French nuns. No one could conceal from them that it en¬ tailed certainly severe hardships, and not improbably risk and danger. The penal laws were still unre¬ pealed, and any outburst of popular fury might put

them ao-ain in force. The Ursulines would not come; ©