The beginning of all our knowledge of St. John Fisher is a life written in the reign of Queen Elizabeth from thirty to forty years after his death. This account, after circulating in manuscript for almost a century, was finally published as The Life and Death of that renowned John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester. Comprising the highest and hidden Transactions of Church and State in the Reign of Henry the 8, with divers Morall, Historicall, and Political Animadversions upon Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas Moor, Martin Luther, with a full relation of Queen Katherine’s Divorce. Carefully selected from sever all ancient Records, by Tho. Bailey, D.D. London. Printed in the yeare, 1655.

The Dr. Bailey thus responsible for this first publication was not however the author of the Life. A manuscript of it, that belonged at one time to the English Benedictine monks of Dieulouard in Lorraine had come into his hands and “making some alteration therein"—“verbiage, méprises, et sottes interpolations,” the later scientific Bollandist styles them—he had printed it as his own work. Bailey was soon found out, but his ill-informed and stupid manipulation of the text threw a discredit upon the biographer whom he had exploited which lasted down to our own times. The pioneer in the work of restoring the credit of this sixteenth century writer was Fr. T. E. Bridgett, C.SS.R., whose monumental life of the martyr appeared in 1888.

Tribute to St. Thomas More

Europe has gone out of Christendom. There are still perhaps Christian nations, whatever this may mean to-day, there is a strong though disunited Christian tradition living in many millions of people and representing, through them, a power of public import still, there is the Church Catholic, and many other forms of “organized religion.” But Europe has gone out of Christendom four hundred years ago. This is not merely another way of saying that the sixteenth century saw the break-up of the formal religious unity it had possessed throughout the Middle Ages. Europe is not merely the name of a continent and a mere factual unit based on the neighbourhood of nations and peoples living within its boundaries. Mr. Christopher Dawson in his admirable work The Making of Europe and others of his books has recovered the true meaning and significance of what Europe has been in the history of mankind—not the natural scene of the lives of peoples like any other similar scene, but Christendom. The religious revolution of the sixteenth century was from the religious and Catholic point of view the gravest event, but it had no less grave accompaniments in fields quite beyond the strictly religious domain. Nor was the Reformation the sole cause—it was in fact just as much an effect. England might never have gone beyond breaking up the ties, with Henry VIII, that bound her up into Christendom, and yet have severed herself from the most living reality of a thousand years of European history.

It was Sir Thomas More who realized that most clearly, “lam not bound, my lord, to confirm my conscience to the counsel of one realm against the general counsel of Christendom,” he said during his trial. In this case it was not the Saint himself that was defendant, it was Christendom.

It is only of late years that Communism has come to excite an emotion rather than an opinion. . . . Until a decade or two ago, it distinguished itself from Socialism in that it dealt with distribution or consumption whereas Socialism concerned the mode of production: and whereas Socialism was a theory of economics the appeal of Communism was to sentiment, one might even say to religion. Their common ground lay solely in a recognition of the equality of Man. But it was Communism that associated itself with the now century-old hope of the perfectibility of Man.

Historically Communism was of course forborne by such as the Essenes, whose economy of life was however inspired by the urge to escape (rather than repair) social ills. They are described by Philo: “None had his own house but shared his dwelling with all. Living in colonies they threw upen their doors to all their sect that came their way. They had a common storehouse, common expenditure, common garments, common food (syssitia). They gave what they earned to a common fund for the support of the unfit.”

The Communist colonies of last century were ineffectual enough and are notable largely in that their origin was philanthropic and motived, if not by pessimism, at least by the urge to escape.

Communism, as we know it, was anticipated in literature only by a Saint—in the Utopia of Thomas More. Here was a state in many respects indistinguishable from the economy of the Soviet, comprising four million souls, superintended

“FIRST to respect and regard God and afterwards the King, thy master.”

This “notable and woorthye lesson and charge” was the first instruction given by Henry VIII to Thomas More on the first entry of the latter into the King's service. The occcasion of this entry has a certain historical interest and significance. It happened after the decision of a legal dispute between the Pope and the King concerning a ship belonging to the Pope which the King claimed as forfeit.

“There chaunced a great shippe of his that then was Pope to arriue at Southampton, the which the King claymed as a forfeyture. Wherevpon the popes ambassadour, then resident in the Realme, vpon sute obteyned of the King that he might retaine for his master some Consailers learned in the lawes of the Realme, and that in his owne presence (him selfe being a singuler Ciuilian) the matter might in some publike place be openly heard, debated and discoursed. Among all the lawyers, no one could be founde so apte and meete as Master More, as one that was able to report to the Ambassadour all the reasons and argumentes on both sides proposed and alleaged. Vpon this the Counsailers of either partie, in the presence of the Lorde ChauncelZowr and other the Judges in the Starre chamber, had audience accordinglye. At what time Master More was not onely a bare reporter to the Ambassadour, but argued himselfe also so learnedly and so substantially that he recovered and wonne to the pope the saide forfeiture, and to himselfe high commendation and renowne.”

The canonization of Blessed Thomas More is extremely significant for many reasons: he was an Englishman, a layman, a man of great learning, a humanist, and he died a martyr to his belief in papal supremacy. More than any other man, perhaps, he was the typical Englishman. His humour, versatility, and literary achievements have endeared him to multitudes of readers in every part of the English-speaking world. His canonization is notable also for the fact that he was a married man—indeed twice married. It is a long time since any married saint has been officially canonized by the Catholic Church. That so few married people have been raised to the Church's altars since the present process of canonization was initiated, raises the query whether sanctity is in any way incompatible with married life.

To answer this question we must first clarify our minds as to what are the constituent elements of sanctity. Many think that a saint is simply one who lives according to high moral standards. But one can live such a life without any conscious relationship with God. A saint is one whose whole life is motivated by the love of God, and who tries daily to do the will of God, as that will is made known to him through vocation and circumstances. According to the degree of sanctity, saints are divided into common and heroic saints.

For obvious reasons it is only the heroic saints that are canonized by the Church. Before any servant of God can be enrolled in the canon of the saints it must be established beyond peradventure that his or or her life was distinguished by the heroic practice of faith, hope, charity, justice, temperance, fortitude and prudence. That is the norm according to which the Sacred Congregation judges in the process of canonization.

The publication of the collected spiritual letters of the late Abbot Chapman reveals a side of his life and work less well known to the outside world. With the exception of one rather long series, these letters are mainly concerned with those stages of the spiritual life which St. John of the Cross has called the Dark Night of the Soul. In their preoccupation with this time of dryness and painful anxiety when no comfort is found either in God or in creatures, they present a rather gloomy view of Christianity. Dom Chapman had formed the opinion that many reach the mystical state without being aware of it, and that for lack of suitable instruction they make no progress. He tried to help, although always refusing to become a “professional director,” and disclaiming special knowledge. The letters contain much that is helpful, expressed with originality and vigour.

He first began to take a serious interest in the subject of mysticism when recalled to Maredsous by Abbot Marmion in 1912—indeed his own state of soul seemed “obviously mystical"—and the first of the letters date from that period. Very soon he had worked out for himself a provisional theory, which he explained at length in a letter of April, 1913 (P-25°)« and in January, 1928, he published in the Downside Review an article “What is Mysticism?” as a theological defence of his ideas. To explain the scattered references in the letters, that article has been reprinted to form the second appendix to the present work. It is exclusively an interpretation of St. Thomas, but it is so novel an interpretation that, put forward with the authority of a great reputation, it requires careful examination. Dom Chapman sets aside the accepted Thomistic doctrine based on the theology of the Gifts of the Holy Ghost ("a harmless doctrine, but unfruitful"—p. 71) and starts again from the beginning.

Between the philosopher who returns thanks “to nature for the incompatibility, for the envious emulating vanity, for the insatiable appetite to acquire, or even to rule, (for) without them all the excellent natural predispositions in mankind would slumber to all eternity without being developed,” and the General who proclaims that “war is not merely a necessary element in the life of nations, but an indispensable factor of culture,"* for “without war, inferior or decaying races would easily choke the growth of healthy budding elements, and a universal decadence would follow,” there is a striking “air de famille.”

We may well wonder how the old man of Konigsberg, who saw in human struggles “the direction of a wise Creator,” could write an essay on “Perpetual Peace,” and can easily understand how the controversy as to whether Kant were pacifist or imperialist arose.

It can be affirmed without doubt that Kant was at heart a pacifist, his treaty on “Perpetual Peace” being sufficient proof of that. But had he written this essay alone, he would never have gained his present authority among philosophers; he would rapidly have been relegated to the little comer reserved for an Abbé de St. Pierre, a de Tattel, and other utopists.

Kant’s works may be divided into two parts:

(1) his destructive work, which culminates in the Critique of Pure Reason;

(2) his constructive work, with his Critique of Practical Reason, his writings on Morals and Right, and his study on Universal and Perpetual Peace, which “constitutes not merely a part, but whole final purpose and end of the Science of Right.”

Some people seem to be a little alarmed by the phrase “consumer-credit,” as if it involved some vast and dangerous experiment along untried paths.

Don't be frightened at a word. “Consumer-credit” simply means “credit which is not producer-credit.”

Producer-credit consists of bank-overdrafts allowed to industry for production, or to Governments and Municipalities to carry on their work. Loans bearing interest, loans issued upon securities which will become the property of the lender if the loan is not repaid. That is producer-credit as it exists to-day. There is nothing specially Catholic or traditional about it. On the contrary, it is (or would be, if the lender were lending real money, which he isn’t) precisely what was always called sinful Usury in the old days; it is a modem kind of “money” which bears upon it the guilt and stain of debt from the first moment of its existence.

Of course, this producer-credit could be and ought to be controlled in the public welfare and issued free of interest; but even so it would still provide incomes only for those at work, not for the ever-increasing army of the dispossessed unemployed and their dependents, nor for the aged and incapacitated. These would still have to be supported grudgingly out of taxation levied on the working population.

Hence the idea of introducing credits into industry from the consumption-end of the process also. We affirm the possibility of “consumer-credit,” which would be nothing but ordinary sane means-of-exchange money, based upon the community’s credit or power of production and put into circulation by the Ruler. As its name indicates, it would be issued direct to consumers as such, and would give them a means of setting the producers as such to work. It might be issued to all consumers (national dividend) or only to some (old age pensions, children’s allowances, etc.).

On the feast of Corpus Christi, 1854, a young man, an artist, stood in the streets of Dusseldorf waiting for the procession of the Blessed Sacrament to pass by. He was not there from any religious motive; indeed, he looked with a certain supercilious air upon the people around him, waiting so silently for their Lord to pass by. It was only inspiration for a painting that he sought, attracted by the pageantry, the rich colours, the myriad candles and flowers. Soon, the distant murmur of prayers was audible and the procession appeared round the bend of the road, a splash of colour and light against the sombre background. The men around him pulled off their hats and all fell upon their knees. The artist alone stood, tall and handsome, with his broad-brimmed hat planted firmly upon his fair curling hair. But it did not remain so for long! The next moment a blow from one of the men near him had sent it spinning across the street. . . . With a sudden realisation of his want of courtesy and good breeding the quick blood rushed to the young man’s cheeks and he bowed his head in shame.

The name of this young artist was Karl Schilling. He was a Norwegian, nineteen years of age and an atheist, staying in Germany for the sake of his studies; but from that day of June when he had stood in the streets of Dusseldorf waiting for the procession, dated his change of heart. After his conversion (November nth, 1854) he worked untiringly till the day of his death for the return of his beloved Norway to the true faith. Gradually he gave up his painting. More and more of his time was given to prayer and the exercise of charity. With the passage of the years the wish to become a priest was slowly formulating in his mind.