I
It was a great day for Philadelphia when the Continental Congress went to Mass. It was Independence Day, too, but this was of lesser importance in the estimation of the people, especially of the Catholic portion of them. Fully a quarter before the hour, the bell began to sound and the streets became like so many avenues of commerce with people standing in doorways, or leaning from their windows, or hurrying with feverish haste in the direction of the New Chapel of St. Mary's, the parish church of the city. There a number of them congregated in twos or threes to await the procession of notables, who would soon approach with great solemnity and dignity from the opposite corner of the street.
The celebration came about in this manner:
It was the desire of M. Gerard, the Minister Plenipotentiary of France, to commemorate the anniversary day of the Independence of the United States in a religious manner. Arrangements already had been made to hold Divine worship earlier in the morning at Christ Church, at which the guests of honor were invited to be present. At twelve o'clock the congregation would march to the Church of St. Mary, where a military Mass and a solemn Te Deum would be sung. The Reverend Seraphin Bandol, chaplain to the French Embassy, would celebrate the Mass and deliver a sermon appropriate to the occasion.
It had been fondly expected that the event would assume an international tone. Events had been moving with extraordinary rapidity towards the establishment of the Roman Catholic religion in the graces of the government, and this celebration might demonstrate the patriotic motives of the Catholic body beyond the shadow of a doubt. That a Congress, which of late had condemned in the strongest terms the practices of the Roman Catholic religion, could change in sentiment and action in so short a time, would be an unequivocal proof of the countenance and good will which the Catholic religion was beginning to acquire. At any rate the example set by the governing body of the new republic attending Mass in a Roman Catholic edifice, offering up their devout orisons in the language, service and worship of Rome, would be a memorable one, an augury of the new spirit of religious freedom which later would be breathed into the Constitution of these same States by these same men.
Precisely at ten minutes before the hour they came, walking in pairs, headed by John Hancock, the President of the Continental Congress, and His Excellency M. Gerard, the French Ambassador. Immediately after the Congress, marched the Supreme Executive Council of Philadelphia with Joseph Reed at its head. Then came the French Embassy, resplendent in its dress of blue and gold. Prominent civilians, military officers, men of repute in city and nation, followed slowly along the crowded thoroughfare and as slowly made their way into the small edifice. General Washington was not present, having been prevented by duty in the field.
Within, the little church murmured with low talking. Ordinarily, the congregation would have been absorbed in silent contemplation before the Presence of the Divine One, but the impressiveness of the occasion made the people depart from their usual fervor. The little church was only partly filled when the great procession arrived and every head instinctively turned in the direction of the entrance at the sound of their many footsteps. As they marched down the aisle every breath was held; then as they began to file into the pews reserved for them, the subdued murmur began again.
Marjorie and her father sat to the rear of the church in the company of the early arrivals. In fact the entire Allison family occupied the same pew, pressed, indeed, for room on account of the multitude which crowded its way into the church and into the small aisles. Round about them on every side sat the congregation, some of whom were already familiar to them, the majority of whom, however, were total strangers. From their appearance and demeanor it was not difficult to conclude, Marjorie thought, that more than one-half of them were non-Catholic.
The inside of the church was adorned in splendid array with the emblems of France and the United States. In the sanctuary, on each side of the altar, stood two large flags of the allied nations, while across the choir gallery in the rear of the church, there stretched in festoons, the colors of the infant republic superimposed in the middle by a shield bearing the likeness of Louis XVI. On the altar bloomed a variety of cut flowers, arranged in an artistic and fanciful manner on the steps of the reredos amidst a great profusion of white unlighted candles. The three highest candlesticks on each side had been lighted, and the little tongues of living flame were leaping from them joyfully. Over the tabernacle a large crucifix raised aloft, while just before the door of the tabernacle rested the chalice with its white veil, arranged in the form of a truncated triangle, shielding it from view.
For several minutes after the honorable body had been seated there was a confusion of feet and forms as the members of the congregation surged into the church. The pews filled quickly, and the more tardy and less fortunate individuals sought places along the aisles and along the rear. Overhead the small organ gasped and panted the strains of a martial air, the uneven throbbing of its bellows emphasizing the fatigue and exhaustion of its faithful operator.
"Is that the French Ambassador?" whispered Marjorie to her father.
"With the brocade and lace. Yes. Next to him is Mr. Hancock, President of the Congress."
She looked and saw the noble head and dignified bearing of the statesman. He sat very erect and majestic, presenting an appearance of taste and refinement in his suit of silken black.
"There is Mr. Adams, John Adams, with the great powdered periwig. The tall thin man seated at his right is Thomas Jefferson, who wrote the Declaration. He is, without doubt, the scholar of the Congress."
Marjorie followed his whispering with evident interest. Never had she been in the company of such notable men.
"Who is that? See! He is turning sideways."
"Livingston. Robert Livingston. Then the great Robert Morris, whose financial aid made possible the continuance of the war. His personal sacrifice for the cause of independence will never be computed. He is Washington's best friend."
She peered through the crowd to catch a glimpse of the famous financier.
"Do not overlook our staunch Catholic member of the Congress, Charles Carroll. Lest he might be mistaken for any other man of the same name he made bold to affix after his name on the Declaration of Independence, 'of Carrollton.' A representative Catholic and a true patriot!"
She recalled this, having seen the name of "Charles Carroll of Carrollton" on the printed copy of the Declaration.
Mr. Allison again nudged his daughter with his elbow to attract her attention.
"Can you see that elderly man with the sharp-pointed features over across?" he asked.
She looked in the direction indicated but did not seem to be able to locate him.
"The second pew, third man from the aisle."
"Yes! Yes!" she exclaimed.
"That is Richard Henry Lee of Virginia, the author of the resolution 'That these United Colonies are, and of right ought to be, free and independent States.' That paved the way for the drawing up of the Declaration."
The makers of history were before her, and her eyes danced at their sober and grave demeanor. Here sat the Congress, not all of it, but a goodly portion of it, which had voted unanimously in favor of complete separation from the mother country. Here were those very men who had risked their all, their fortunes, their homes, their lives for their country's cause. Here they now assembled, visibly burdened with the cares and the apprehensions of the past few years, still uncertain of the future, but steadfastly determined to endure to the bitter end, either to hang together or to rise to glorious triumphs together. And here they sat or knelt in the temple of God to rededicate their fortunes to Him, to accept from His hands the effects of His judgments, but at the same time to implore Him to look with favor upon their efforts and to render possible of realization those desires which were uppermost in their hearts. Marjorie thought that they could not, they must not fail, they, who were animated by such sincere devotion and by such sentiments of genuine piety.
"Mr. Franklin isn't here?" she whispered.
"No," he softly answered. "I think he has not returned from France. He was there, you know, when the Alliance was concluded. Lafayette only joined Washington last month. Did you know that he brought with him a commission from the French King to General Washington, appointing him Lieutenant-General in the French army and Vice-Admiral of its navy?"
"No. I did not hear of it."
"I suppose Franklin is still over there. He would be here, although he himself is an atheist. He believes in no form of religious worship. I should not say that he is an atheist for he does believe in One God, but that is about all."
The murmur about the little church began to die away. Still the surging at the door continued until it seemed as if the small building would burst its sides with its great burden.
The tinkle of a little bell sounding from the door leading from the sanctuary announced that the Mass was about to begin. On the instant the congregation rose and remained standing until Father Bandol, preceded by the altar boys, had reached the foot of the altar and made the genuflection.