at heart the success
of the Old Catholic movement than he, no one a warmer desire to see the
purified Church in the place that is hers of right; but also no one has
a deeper abhorrence of that Church lending herself as a servant to
political intrigues, be the government that sets them on foot called
despotic or republican. And then the Grand Conseil comes in for no
little scorn and contempt. Pere Hyacinthe may be a Jesuit in disguise,
or a Calvinist at heart, or a broken reed that pierces the hand of him
who leans on it; but there is still another hypothesis: he may be a man
endowed with the rare gift of seeing all sides of a question with equal
impartiality, and one not to be deterred by any party considerations
from speaking his free opinion: in that case it is certain that he would
find no place in either of the factions at variance in this
commonwealth.

How large the number of those who followed Pere Hyacinthe when he took
up his present isolated position it would be difficult to estimate, for
the services at the Casino are attended by others besides his own flock;
Sunday after Sunday the barren concert-hall is filled, but many faces
wear an expectant look that distinguishes them as passing strangers from
the frequenters of the place; and when the mass begins there is evident
doubt in the minds of some how far loyalty to their own simpler forms
permits them to unite in this worship. They solve the question by
standing up whenever a change of position seems to be called for; and in
fact to kneel in the narrow, crowded seats is almost impossible, so that
the front row, with more space at its disposal, may be properly expected
to act as proxy for all the rest. There comes a moment, however, that
unites Catholic and Protestant under one spell: it is when the first
word falls from the lips of the great speaker. Whatever the subject,
whether Catholic reform or the state of the soul after death, a
breathless stillness bears witness to enchained attention. Such a theme
as the latter must lead far from the daily ways of thought that many
tread who listen: when the silver tongue ceases, one may murmur to
another, "Mystical!" and yet a very untranscendental mind, borne upward
for the moment by that wondrous eloquence, might well catch some vision
of a mysterious bond between the Church militant and the Church
triumphant--might all but feel a tie linking that strangely-mingled
assemblage with the Blessed Company of All Saints