Whitsuntide, 1929, will always be memorable in the annals of the Dominican Order for the happy events of the re-establishing of a formal Priory and House of Studies, and the consecration and solemn opening of the Priory Church at Blackfriars, Oxford. On Monday, May 20th, the Church, dedicated to the Holy Ghost, was consecrated by his lordship the Bishop of Alexandria, Canada, the Rt. Rev. Felix Couturier, O.P. After the ceremonies of consecration and dedication High Mass was sung by Father Bede Jarrett, O.P., the English Dominican Provincial. On Tuesday, May 22nd, Bishop Couturier sang pontifical High! Mass in the presence of His Eminence Cardinal Bourne. His Grace Archbishop Goodier, S.J., preached a sermon, the full text of which, by His Grace’s kind leave, we are able to present to our readers in this current issue. His lordship the Bishop of Northampton, Dr. Cary-Elwes; the Abbot of Ampleforth, Dom Ecjmund Matthews, O.S.B.; the Rt. Rev. Abbot Sir David Hunter-Blair, O.S.B.; the Rt. Rev. Mgr. Barnes; the Father Provincial of the Jesuits; the Father Provincial of the Servites; the Father Provincial of the Salesians; Father Cuthbert, O.S.F.C.; Fr. McCann, O.S.B.; Father Vignaux, S.J.; Father Leo O’Hea, S.J.; Father Ronald Knox and many other priests were present.

The Master General of the Dominican Order was represented by Father Louis Nolan, O.P., and the Dominican Provincials of Paris, Belgium and Ireland, and many other friars were among the visitors. The Mayor of Oxford represented the City, and the University was represented by several Catholic Dons.

‘And not for them only do I pray, but for them also who through their word shall believe in me. That they all may be one, as thou, Father, in me, and I in thee; that they also may be one in us; that the world may believe that thou hast sent me.’ (John xvii. 20, 21.)

This year, 1929, has already been a year of happy thanksgiving for the Catholic Church in this country. But let us not forget that we rejoice not for ourselves alone; indeed, perhaps more we rejoice for the sake of others. Another centenary falls this year, of which we do well to remind ourselves. In 1529, exactly four hundred years ago, the then King of England, for his own ends, first began the process of severing the Church of England from the Church Catholic. In that process, deliberately, and defying the consequences, he cut this land adrift from the rest of Christendom. In that sense, more than in any other, the intellect of Europe at that time interpreted the deaths of Fisher and More. We read in contemporary records that their execution ‘staggered Christendom’; it was staggered, not so much because in a Catholic country, at the hands of a Catholic monarch, who had but recently been honoured with the title of ‘Defender of the Faith,’ for the defence of that same faith these heroes had been put to death; rather it was staggered because the two brightest lights that shone from England over Europe had been so wantonly extinguished. It was a blow not only to the unity of the Christian faith; it was also a blow to the unity of Christian mankind.

It would be regrettable if the present year were allowed to pass without some mention in these pages of the centenary of Léon Harmel, born in 1829, that great lover of social justice whose name is connected with the issue of the Rerum Novarum. The great encyclical of Pope Leo XIII, which may well be called the workman’s charter of liberties, is a doctrinal expression of the principles which Harmel strove during his long life of eighty-six years to put into practice among his own employees.

His fellow-countrymen held the celebrations of his centenary in Paris in February last, and in May similar celebrations took place in Rome. It is greatly to be desired that we also in England may find some fitting means during the course of this year to bring back to the public mind the principles and work for which the name of Léon Harmel stands. At present his name and work are almost unknown even among Catholics in this country, where, much more than in France, we are reaping the evil harvest of social injustice which he prophesied with such a certain voice. The French celebrations have produced a fruit of lasting worth in the brochure published by Père Guitton,

S.J., with its title significative of the life-work of Harmel, Léon Harmel et L’ Initiative Ouvrière. Liberty and enterprise of the individual—that is the type of teaching so much needed in these days of insane monopoly and centralisation which are fast bringing into existence the Servile State—the organised exploitation of the work of the masses for the private advantage of the few.

This year’s Academy was awaited with unusual interest. A new President is always something of an excitement, and Sir William Llewellyn’s frequent intercession for the expressionists and post-impressionists led some people to cherish expectations of a change in policy. But no epoch-making innovations are apparent, and, indeed, hopes of the sort indicated must inevitably remain chimerical, it seems. Once again we can rejoice in the high standard of technical achievement permeating the whole exhibition. But we shall find very little Art in the proper sense of the word. Academy artists are hopelessly provincial despite their undoubted talent and sensibility : and provincial art does not count. The real tradition on which art lives is ignored, and in losing touch with the European current we are weighed down by the slough of suburbanity. It is not as if an independent art was being worked out in a grand and isolated fashion. There can be no deus ex machina about art . . .; it grows—often up the wrong tree—but it must draw its life blood from ‘influences.’

There is a considerable improvement this year in organisation. Black-and-white drawings, etchings and engravings now have Gallery VI to themselves, and we are spared in some measure what has hitherto tended to mar previous exhibitions—namely, the somewhat indecent association of sculpture with mural paintings in a decorative ensemble—The Picnic of the Borejoisy—as an aesthetic butcher was once heard to describe the general effect produced. In any case, the combination was never really successful. In spite of this arrangement, however, certain discontented exhibits have strolled into the fields to frolic.

In other words, was St. Paul the first Pope after St. Peter?

The arguments for thinking that St. Paul succeeded St. Peter as Pope are manifold and cumulative. The arguments against are almost entirely the later lists of Roman Bishops, which do not mention St. Paul.

1. It is significant that every writer before the third century who mentions St. Peter as related to the Church of Rome invariably couples the two names ‘Peter and Paul.’

2. According to competent critics, such as Professor C. H. Turner, the tradition of coupling the names of St. Peter and St. Paul begins with St. John the Evangelist. The eleventh chapter of the Apocalypse contains a detailed description of the ‘two witnesses’ (μάρτνσíν = martyrs) and the ‘two olive-branches and two candlesticks that stand before the Lord of the earth.’ The allusion to the martyrdom of St. Peter and St. Paul under Nero is almost irrefutable.

3. In the first letter of Pope St. Clement to the Church of Corinth the coupled names of St. Peter and St. Paul are used to hearten the somewhat cowed Corinthians.

4. St. Ignatius of Antioch, writing a little later to the Romans, speaks of St. Peter and St. Paul laying commands on them. The Church of Rome could be commanded only by a Bishop of Rome.

May it please the Company—Worthies, Worships, Elders and all my Betters : you know how a chance-found quotation will sometimes fish up from one’s subconscious mind a haul of impressions which, when they come to the surface, prove to be a valuable addition to one’s philosophy of life?

That has just happened to me, when, searching through one of my Common Place Books for Somebody’s terse and pertinent remark about Something, I came upon these words of Ernest Hello; whereupon I had to leave my other occupation to haul up the overwhelming catch of ideas and impressions it gave me.

‘Little men,’ he says, ‘borrow all their importance from their actions, which they accomplish. Without these actions they would be absolutely nothing.’