Ellen Courtenay’s ultimatum to O’Connell, declaring that she had received promises of assistance from ‘many persons,’ and that ‘it would make her fortune’ to denounce him publicly, was posted to O’Gorman Mahon, the young Member of Parliament for County Clare, at the end of February, 1831. It was exactly a year later that, in the Fleet Prison in London, she added the date to the last footnote to the pamphlet, which was published and at once broadcast over England, by the Editor of the Satirist. He must have made a very handsome profit on the sale of so small a publication at the price of half a crown per copy. The pamphlet comprises twenty-seven small pages of narrative in large black type, followed by ten pages of footnotes in smaller type, which are mainly concerned with a denunciation of O’Connell’s public activities as an Irish agitator, and are written in the familiar style of all his political critics at the time.

The first footnote, for instance, denounces ‘this man of atrocity’ for having ‘violated the sanctity of the Lord’s day by changing even its title, and styling it “the O’Connell Sunday”’ with the object of ‘wringing from the poor Peasantry their last penny .... to enable him to pursue his insatiable ambition.’ And the concluding footnote, which is quite obviously written to serve as political propaganda for quotation throughout England, fills four pages of close type.

Two recent reviews of Mr. Eric Gill’s latest book, Art Nonsense, make us think that it is time Mr. Gill’s art was discussed from the point of view of his own writings and the Thomistic philosophy of which he professes to be so ardent a follower.

Few living artists enjoy the distinction of being the subject of special books; both Mr. Joseph Thorp and J.K.M.R. in Mr. A. Rutherston’s series of Contemporary British Artists have written with keen appreciation of Mr. Gill’s artistic achievements, illustrating their books with numerous reproductions of his sculpture and carving. Yet opinion as to the merits of his work is widely divergent. Whilst some admire it unreservedly, others dislike it as intensely. Undoubtedly the same divergence of opinion exists concerning all artists’ works, but in the given case the Artist who is at the same time a writer will help us to a correct appreciation of his work as judged by his own principles. And in fact it is not the writing but the work that matters, for, as Mr. Gill himself reminds us : ‘There are plenty of lying documents, and very great skill and judgment is required to use them. But works are infallible guides .... You may write an elaborate series of lies on paper, but your handwriting will betray you and show what manner of man you are.’ So we shall proceed with the examination of these ‘infallible guides’ in the light of Art Nonsense which one of its reviewers declares to ‘say the last word on matters which have long been spoken of in vain.’

The writer of these words first witnessed the Passion Play in 1880, and he has done so on each occasion since. The contrast between then and now is indeed a striking one. In 1880 the arrangements were very primitive, there was no railway to the village, and visitors had to drive by carriage fifteen miles from the nearest station if they could afford the expense, or else walk or get a lift in a jolting hay waggon. Whilst the accommodation was much easier to obtain in those days, the lodgings and commissariat were naturally on a very modest scale, foreign visitors were rare, and the necessity for providing modern facilities had not arisen. The theatre itself was very uncomfortable, for the seats were merely narrow planks without backs, and to sit on them for the eight hours of performance was most fatiguing. On the other hand, the prices were very much less. The audience, mostly peasants and their families, brought provisions—beer and sausages—with them and consumed them during the performance. Then, as now, the actors were exposed to the elements, but their costumes, which were formerly supplied from the Royal theatres, are now designed and made in the village workshops. It is indeed remarkable that the whole performance is produced without any aid from outside, and that even the large orchestra is recruited in Oberammergau. In fact, no one who is not native-born can take any part in the play.

To Catholics marriage is a Sacrament. Wealthy persons treat it as a settlement in life. For ordinary people it may spell a career in the man’s case, and to the woman an emancipation from family ties. Doubting souls may call it a vocation. As regards the ‘masses,’ the only ‘classes’ which really count in these Labour days, marriage appears to be a lottery in more ways than one. Catholics, and I speak of adherents to the ‘old-established firm with its headquarters at Rome’ —the expression is Henry Labouchere’s—have a very definite conception of marriage. ‘Hoc est magnum sacramentum,’ exclaims St Paul. And he adds the proviso : ‘Dico autem in Christo et in Ecclesia.’ It is the life-long union of man and woman indissoluble as the union of Christ with His Church.

Marriage implies children. Catholics adopt this principle as their own. In Catholic countries the birth-rate remains at high tide. Their women accept child-birth as a natural incident of married life. Therefore, they are not afraid of it. Birth control is anathema to Catholics. And by this I mean artificial birth prevention. The Church does not forbid control by abstention. She insists on the Pauline precept of each party according to the other its due rights. But if both parties agree to live for a space as brother and sister, either to limit a family or for any other such reason, the Church does not say them nay. So far the Catholic standpoint. It is held wholly by High Churchmen, and partially by other religious bodies.

Probably very few of our readers need telling that The Friends of Blackfriars indicated by this title are not simply those courageous folk who take a friendly interest in this review, who even sometimes read it, and occasionally subscribe to it. The Friends of Blackfriars to whom we refer—a very considerably smaller band than our little group of readers—are those persons who have formed themselves into an association of helpers towards the maintenance and endowment of the Dominican Priory of the Holy Ghost, Blackfriars, Oxford.

On Trinity Sunday, the 24th of June, the Friends held their annual general meeting in the small lecture room at the Blackfriars Priory, Oxford. The bulk of the party came from London; there was a group from Oxford itself; and Cambridge and other parts of the country were represented. After a preliminary committee meeting the room was thrown open to all the Friends and to members of the Dominican Community. Mr. Edward Bullough presided, assisted by the Honorary Secretary, Miss M. M. C. Calthrop, and the Honorary Treasurer, Mr. George Bellord.