‘Circuitus illi jam explosi sunt’, exclaimed St. Augustine, referring to ‘the crushing monotony of endless cycles, period succeeding period and recommencing period, without anything ever advancing,’ that theory of everlasting rebirth, and re-death, which the Indians call samsâra, and of which St. Augustine elsewhere says, ‘qua opinione quid horribilius cogitari possit, nescio.’ With the coming of Christ ‘that infernal cycle explodes. Something new incessantly takes place. The Universe has come into being, it really grows and reaches maturity. The world has also an end, thus has a meaning, a direction, a significance.’ With Christianity, thus for the first time, History becomes something to be explained and understood, and not merely something to be described and remembered; and with History proper there is also born the possibility of the new discipline of a Philosophy of History.

When the well-known Catholic publishing firm of Herder, in 1931, started its great series of a History of the Leading Nations (interrupted, of course, by the advent of Nazidom), the first volume bore the title The Meaning of History. In a profound and masterly manner its author there treated of all the problems falling under a Philosophy of History, without naturally attempting to give a concrete exposition of human history in the light of such ‘meaning.’ But this latter task has never ceased to fascinate, and frequent attempts at it have been made. That non-Christians and even atheists should have made it—vide Mr. H. G. Wells’ Outline—is amusing, and shows to what extent the whole world since the coming of Christ stands under the empire of Christian ideas, whether men are aware of it or not.

Many who would know St. Dominic better, who would enter more deeply into the inward spirit of the Dominican ideal, will turn almost instinctively to historical sources and strive patiently to piece together necessarily fragmentary evidence, to form a portrait of the saint and fashion in the mind a vision of the ideal. Such an approach is normal and fruitful when handled by those competent in the delicate intricacies of history. Still, happily, there are other methods, other approaches to an understanding of St. Dominic; and assuredly in this domain the evidences of history were never meant to be an exclusive norm for our judgements. Why not, for instance, learn from the liturgy, which has much to say on St. Dominic and his purpose? Thus (one point only, among many) the Dominicans’ day of liturgical prayer closes with an antiphon which vividly calls to mind him who, in his time, was a ‘burning and a shining light,’ calls to mind, too, his brethren who have shone in every age because they worked for the Church, preaching not themselves but the Light of the World. ‘Lumen Ecclesiæ, Doctor Veritatis, Predicator Gratia’—‘Light of the Church, Doctor of Truth, Herald of Grace . . .’ There is more than an ordinary ring in such incisive titles, battering mind and will of those who will to listen.

‘Light,’ ‘lightsomeness’ and kindred terms are perhaps worn thin in common parlance. A little thought, a return to Scriptural and Patristic texts soon refurbishes this age-old currency. The Scriptures from Genesis to the Apocalypse, abound in examples of the use of light, even in its mere physical sense, for the vivid intensity of southern and oriental skies play upon the minds and imagery of those who have experienced them, the inspired writers included. Stark contrasts prevail over gentle nuances.

The familiar representations of our blessed Lady giving a rosary to St. Dominic are symbolical of a tradition, so tenaciously upheld by the Church, that she not only insists upon such representations being placed on, or near, the Rosary Altar in every church where the Confraternity of the Rosary is established, but forbids all representations of Our Lady giving a rosary to any other Saint.

This tradition has been questioned, being alleged to date only from the time of Alan de la Roche, who was born in 1428. This zealous preacher of the devotion of the Rosary, so it is insinuated, foisted upon a credulous public the legend that St. Dominic had been commanded by the Mother of God to preach the Rosary, and the legend has persisted ever since his day. Alan appealed to ‘tradition and documents’ in support of his assertion, but there are no documents, we are told, and there is no tradition anterior to Alan himself. If this were indeed the truth, it is amazing that Alan could have succeeded in causing his claim to be accepted. Even if criticism in those days was not so acute or perfect as it is in our own, it is difficult to think that there were no critics able and ready to show that Alan was romancing. We do no know if Alan was brought to book for his statement, nor have we found that he was accused of having invented or imagined it. But the later critics do not fail to emphasize the silence of St. Dominic’s early biographers with regard to the Rosary, pointing out that there is no mention, direct or indirect, by these writers, their contemporaries, or immediate successors, of the supposed fact that the Founder of the Order of Preachers was also the Founder of the Rosary.

Disregarding the various theories that have been put forward in place of accepted tradition, we offer for consideration the following facts which will be found both illuminating and authoritative.

‘Stranger,’ says Arete in Lawrence’s translation of the Odyssey, ‘this have to ask of you from myself; first, What man are you, and where from? Who gave you those clothes? . . . .’ Resourceful Odysseus answered: ‘It is grievous for me, O Queen, to give a connected history of my pains: the celestial gods have given me too many. Yet this I will say to meet your questioning.’ ‘Who gave you those clothes?’ is the question many have asked at the spectacle of Lawrence in the uniform of an Aircraftsman. Here is the answer to the question and the connected history of this Odysseus’ ‘many pains.’

The six hundred letters given in this volume form an enormous book of some eight hundred pages. They are written to bankers, statesmen, artists, children, private soldiers, Marshals of the R.A.F., M.P.s, Under-Secretaries of State; to Mr. Bernard Shaw, Lady Astor, C. M. Doughty, Mr. Noel Coward, Mrs. Thomas Hardy, and a dozen others as eminent. A single afternoon at Karachi produces four long letters, to the American typographer Bruce Rogers, H. S. Ede of the Tate Gallery, Mrs. Thomas Hardy, and E. M. Forster. Without learning the sensational and the unnecessary we have given us, probably finally, the substantial man in all his complexity. Some indeed of the letters, revealing the depths of suffering to which he subjected himself in the Army, make such painful reading that one might wonder why his friends have given them to the world. It is true that no English figure since, perhaps, Lord Byron had attained so great a ‘news-value’; but this was clearly not the motive of those who loved him and have revealed his confessions to the world.

In the summer of 1904 Brother Bede’s theological studies were interrupted. If he had followed the normal course he would have been ordained priest soon after his twenty-first birthday in August, and continued to study theology either at Hawkesyard, or, more probably, with the Dominicans at Louvain or in Rome. Instead of that he was sent to Oxford in the autumn for a three years’ course of modern history. During his first term there he was a deacon, having been raised to that office on the 19th of September.

This interruption of sacred studies for a secular course in a non-Catholic University was quite without precedent amongst English Dominicans, and though Brother Bede in every way justified the exception made in his favour, the experiment was not repeated in the case of anyone who followed him. Even when he himself became Provincial, students taking a University course in the humanities or secular sciences did so either before joining the Order or at the end of their full course of ecclesiastical study.

Many claim to have had a voice in sending Brother Bede to Oxford, but the deciding factor was clearly his own ardent desire. Though he neither said nor did anything to urge it, everybody knew that he yearned not merely to go there himself, but to see the English Dominicans restored to the position they held in the University from the thirteenth to the sixteenth century. His ambition was so consistent with his unselfish zeal for the spiritual welfare of his Order and his country that it turned obstacles into stepping-stones.

International War

Sir,—In your recent issues the articles and correspondence on war show a marked tendency to discuss secondary problems rather than the central one; emphasis seems to be upon the lawfulness or unlawfulness of the means employed. But, if a man is unjustifiably attacked by an aggressor—both parties being conscious of where the unjust aggression lies—he is presumably morally entitled, though not morally compelled, to defend himself, and in so doing need not be restricted to hitting above the belt; he may ‘hit hard, hit quick, hit anywhere.’ If a nation is a political, social, mental and moral unity, such as the theory of nationalism implies, it is difficult to see why the nonsoldiering element should be morally entitled to preferential treatment and be regarded as immune from attack. I submit, however, that the theory in question is properly indefensible, and would ask Fr. Victor White before concluding his war articles to give some attention to it and to the logical conclusions that follow its denial.—Yours, etc.,

John Nibb.

C.T.S. IN CHINA

Sir,—I take the liberty of asking for some space in your valuable paper in order to convey an earnest appeal to all your readers who are interested in missionary work.

All those who have followed the development of the war in China may be surprised to hear that, although hundreds of churches have been destroyed and flourishing Christian units have been dispersed, still the war has given an opportunity to the Church to show its charity, and this has brought about a very considerable movement of mass conversions.