The Crime of the Century; Or, The Assassination of Dr. Patrick Henry Cronin

by Henry M. Hunt

I have often heard him urge those who are poor and of little means to join those associations, in order to make themselves thrifty and better, and to build up for themselves a home here, and provide for their children a means to live decently afterward. Was not this patriotic? Was not this the best thing a human being can do on earth, to strive with all his power to better his fellow-man, to make his home more agreeable, and leave an inheritance to posterity? Most assuredly it was; and most assuredly we must conclude that his life was righteous, good and holy. And did he preserve himself unspotted from the world? He lived a public life, a life with the people and among the people. He was in every sense of the word a public man, known of thousands, as the thousands here to-day testify; and if there was anything wrong or sinful in his life, long ere this it would have been brought forward in triumph. But now no single finger of scorn or imputation can be pointed toward him. After his life has been laid before you we know that he had a good, Christian, Catholic heart, and that his heart went out to his fellow-men, and that in all his dealings with his fellow-men he was never in any sense greatly sinful—that he was not small or mean toward or in his dealings with his fellow-men.

What better eulogy can we pronounce upon him than this? None. We have forgotten half our duty to-day if in our presence here whilst the priest has offered up for him the holy sacrament of the mass, we have not let our own hearts go out in charity, holiness and love toward him that is gone.

Now he is powerless; his days are past, and the church has done what she possibly can for him through her prayers and sacrifices.

It remains for you to do something for him. We believe that there is a hereafter, and that there is a probation for the small defects and defilements of sin that may be upon the soul after death.

It remains for us, his friends—for there is a communion of saints—to offer up our alms, to offer our prayers and the holy sacrifice of the mass that his soul may quickly and surely find rest and peace with God eternal. That is your duty, my friends, to-day. As Catholics and Christians this is imposed upon you, and if you forget it or neglect it you are not truly his friends.

Any more words of praise will be useless for him. But your prayers, the prayers of the poor and defenseless that he helped, will go as a sacred cry to the throne of God and will not be resisted, for God will hear it and take him to the bosom of his fathers. Let us then not forget to promise that we will as friends and Christians do something for him, and in the purity of our faith let us imitate the purity of his faith, the faith that he drank in with his mother's milk and that lasted him through life. There never was a time in the associations or organizations to which he belonged, or anywhere else, that he denied that faith, that he ever was ashamed to acknowledge that he was a Catholic and held to the tenets and belief of the church. He could say: "After my title of Catholic my title of patriot is prominent, and I am not ashamed to confess it to the world. I am willing to sacrifice anything in order to defend my term of Catholicity, and I am willing to do all in my power to help along the poor men of our country."

Therefore, my friends, pray for him who is gone. Let your prayers be that his soul may find rest. Remember him in your daily prayers. Remember him in the places you used to meet him. Remember him when on your knees before the throne of God. He was snatched from the earth without the sacraments of the church; he had not even the soothing words of the priest to bring him more quietly to his end, to help him on the perilous journey toward another life; but, as I said, he met his death in the performance of his duty, and that supplied in part the place of the sacrament.

Pray for him. Breathe his name with love; and as his body moulders in the earth, he may say to you: "Have pity upon me, you, my friends. Have pity on me, for I am now helpless and defenseless. I have no power in my own hands, but your hands are full of alms, deeds and of blessings and prayers, and let them ascend before the throne of Almighty God that I may have rest and peace. Treat all with kindness as my life has been one of kindness—treat them with charity, as my life has been one of charity. If any one say aught against me let it pass forgiven. The words of man are nothing, and pass away as the wind from the mouth. Receive them, then, and mind them not, and those who have injured me most, in the name of mercy have pity on them."

Receive, then, O God, his soul. Be merciful to him for his faith and his hope and his love.

Every head was bowed while the Chancellor gave the benediction. The strains of the organ as it rendered the dead march in Saul filled the edifice, the congregation rose to its feet, the casket was borne out, and the service was at an end.