FATHER MATHEW.

THE grand celebration in New York of the seventy-sixth birthday of Theobald Mathew, recalls to memory the extraordinary career of that benefactor of his race, and shows that the work begun in his lifetime goes on now that he is dead. There is a Father Mathew Total Abstinence Society in most, if not all, the Catholic parishes of New York. On the 10th of October, the members of these societies, wearing green scarfs and decorations, with banners flying and bands of music playing, marched through the principal streets of the city, and passed in review before the mayor and before the Archbishop of New York.

It is good to see the stalwart sons of toil banding together for the purpose of supporting one another in a virtuous and most difficult resolution. In a city of seven thousand drinking places, the enemy lies in wait for them at every step, the working-man's deadliest enemy. Surely it is well for them to combine against a foe that despoils of character and energy, self-respect and the chance of prospering, and entails upon wife and children a miserable inheritance of poverty and shame.

In the year 1838 there was, in the city of Cork, a small Temperance Society chiefly composed of Quakers. Cork and its suburbs contained a population of more than a hundred thousand, among whom, it could be almost said, drunkenness was the rule and sobriety the exception. This famous city, though it had some fine streets and a few handsome edifices, was chiefly composed of long, narrow lanes, lined with wretched huts and shanties, in which poverty sought a momentary respite from its sorrows in strong drink. The little band of Quakers, after struggling awhile with this gigantic evil, with scarcely any re

sults, were ready to give up in despair, when one of them proposed that they should consult Father Mathew, and endeavor to enlist him as an active co-operator in the cause.

Father Mathew was then only known as an exemplary, benevolent, and remarkably influential parish priest, nearly fifty years of age, and a resident of Cork ever since his ordination in 1814. His father, who was the illegitimate son of a nobleman, died when Theobald was a child, and the boy was reared by an aunt to the age of twenty, when he entered the College of Maynooth, a seminary for the education of Catholic priests. Soon after his settlement at Cork he inherited property, which a dispensation from Rome allowed him to retain. With part of it he began the erection of a magnificent church, which, I believe, was not finished in his lifetime; and with another portion he bought and laid out a cemetery, where the poor were provided with graves from a fund formed by selling graves to the rich. In the discharge of his priestly duties, he was noted for an indefatigable assiduity, especially in visiting and solacing the poor, and in promoting schemes for their benefit. Being a magistrate as well as a clergyman, he was frequently employed as an arbitrator in disputes, and many poor men relied on him for legal advice. He was one of those benevolent and trustworthy persons whom every one likes to have as executor of his will and guardian of orphan children. There was something in his manner, too, that was exceedingly winning, and he had a plain, direct, and very persuasive way of preaching, that made him much sought for when a collection was to be taken up. Probably there was no man in Ireland who could get more money into the plates for a benevolent object than Father Mathew.

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It was because of his paramount influence among Cork, and his singular power of winning over masses of men, that the Quakers sought his aid. He listened to their statements, and, after some hesitation, consented to lend a helping hand. Instead, however, of co-operating with them, he thought it best to proceed on his own account, and to set up a new and independent Temperance Society.

He began by holding two temperance meetings a week, in

the Horse-Bazaar of Cork; one on Friday evening, when poor whiskey-drinkers feel the consequences of their drinking in empty pockets and stomachs; the other on Saturday evening, when the possession of a week's wages is tempting every drinker to the whiskey-shop. At the first meeting a society was formed, of which he was chosen president, and he administered the pledge to thirty-five persons. The next evening, a much larger number attended, and two or three hundred joined. He usually delivered a short, plain, anecdotical address, after which he read the pledge, and those who wished to join the society came forward and signed their names, or made their mark, in a book. But as the numbers increased, the signing took too much time, and he only required the candidates to repeat the pledge after him. They usually fell upon their knees before he pronounced it, and when they had uttered the words, he made over them the sign of the cross, which imparted to the promise something of the character of an oath.

Father Mathew's wonder-working pledge was as follows:"I promise, with the divine assistance, as long as I continue a member of the Teetotal Temperance Society, to abstain from all intoxicating drinks, except for medicinal or sacramental purposes, and to prevent as much as possible, by advice and example, drunkenness in others."

When these words had been slowly uttered, Father Mathew, with uplifted hand, pronounced a brief prayer :

"May God bless you, and give you strength and grace to keep your promise."

To which he sometimes added, as he made the sign of the

"In this sign alone you may hope to persevere and conquer." For the space of eighteen months he continued to hold his meetings at the Horse-Bazaar every Friday and Saturday evening, and with ever increasing success. Those who had taken the pledge preached temperance to their friends and relations, and brought them in to the meetings; and in this way the circle of the reforming influence widened from week to week, until there arose a mania to take the pledge. During that year and a half, Father Mathew administered the pledge

to more people than the entire population of Cork, for soon the inhabitants of the adjacent country began to flock in on the meeting days. The change in the aspect of the place, and in the manners and behavior of the people, was wonderful. From being one of the most dissolute and disorderly places in Europe, Cork became the abode of peaceful industry. Hundreds of drinking places were closed. It so happened that Father Mathew had two brothers and a brother-in-law who were distillers of whiskey. Their business began to fall off; and at length, as the work went on, they were compelled to shut up their distilleries.

Until the year 1840 this remarkable movement was confined to the neighborhood of Cork, and it was a mere accident that gave it wider course. Having been invited to Limerick, a large town about fifty miles from Cork, to preach a charity sermon, he arrived there on Saturday, not expecting to have anything to do with teetotalism until his return. But a considerable number of persons residing in Limerick had made a pilgrimage to the Horse-Bazaar at Cork, and taken the pledge there; and thus every one in the town had heard of Father Mathew's marvellous doings. No sooner was it known that he was in the town, than people began to assemble round the house in which he was, until the crowd was so immense that the regiment stationed in the place had to be summoned to aid in keeping the people from crushing one another. At one moment an iron railing gave way, and precipitated a mass of persons into the river Shannon; from which, however, they were all rescued by the troops. All that day Father Mathew kept administering the pledge to thousands at a time, while new thousands came hurrying in from the country.

These unexpected scenes at Limerick decided Father Mathew's future career. He became the Apostle of Temperance. In some of the densely peopled counties of Ireland he administered the pledge to fifty thousand persons a day for some days together. Three millions of the people of Ireland, it is computed, vowed themselves to total abstinence in his presence; and in America his success was not less astonishing. But the most wonderful thing of all was, that the pledge thus

hastily taken was generally kept. The Irish people came to regard Father Mathew with almost superstitious veneration; and, therefore, attached peculiar sanctity to a pledge made to him. Blind men came to him, asking him to restore their sight; and sick women were often seen to touch him, as if expecting to be healed by "virtue" proceeding from his person. He told the lame and the blind, who came to him for miraculous restoration, that he had not the power to work miracles; but, if they persisted in believing that his touch would cure, he would good-naturedly lay his hand upon them. On one occasion, some men, who had come from a distance to take the pledge, on their return homeward chanced to drink water from a vessel in which a small quantity of whiskey had been accidentally left. They were horror-stricken. Nothing would satisfy them but to return to Father Mathew, explain the circumstance to him, and again take the pledge.

man.

Nothing takes place in this world without sufficient cause. Father Mathew really was an eminently kind-hearted, good To give the reader a taste of his quality, and an insight into the secret of his power, I will copy a few sentences from a sermon he once delivered in aid of an orphan asylum in Ireland

"If," said he, "I were to pause to enumerate but the hundredth part of the many generous deeds of mercy performed even by the poorest of the poor, of which I myself have been witness, I would occupy the whole of the time which this discourse should last. Permit me, however, to state one simple case of facts: A poor woman found in the streets a male infant, which she brought to me, and asked imploringly what she was to do with it. Influenced, unhappily, by cold caution, I advised her to give it to the church-wardens. It was then evening. On the ensuing morning, early, I found this poor woman at my doors. She was a poor water-carrier. She cried bitterly, and said, 'I have not slept one wink all night for parting with that child which God had put in my way, and, if you will give me leave, I will take him back again.' I was filled with confusion at the pious tenderness of this poor