The Spiritual Ultima Thule
I HAVE just returned from Chincoteague Island; Va. It is only when one is able to sit down and mark the contrasts between the intense activities of daily life in our great Northern metropolis and the quiet, simple, happy-go-lucky existence of the homely oystermen of Chincoteague that one is able to really appreciate the delights of a short stay in a place where there is no mad-rushing, loud-creaking, and heavy-snorting elevated railroad trains, no hoarse cries from leather-lunged hucksters, no signs of strained vitality on the faces of the inhabitants, no apparent care whether school keeps or not. Chincoteague Island is off the Eastern Shore, some six miles from the mainland, and it belongs geographically to Accomack County, Virginia. But in reality it belongs to no one but itself. The Chincoteaguer is a law unto himself, and as long as he minds his own business the birds of the air or the fishes of the sea are not possessed of more liberty than he is. He wants but little here below, and he gets that little in the shape of the juicy oyster from the generous sea. He has no difficult social problems to solve. He learns with supreme indifference of the corruption of city politics and the boodling of city aldermen. He has long ago changed all that by having no municipality at all. Although on an island something of the shape of Manhattan Island, but about one-half as large, there are nearly three thousand people, yet there is no mayor or any ruling power
but the "deestrict" constable, and he is more than half the time out of a job; there is no street-cleaning department, for the tide comes in every day and washes clean the only street that runs between the houses and the water; there is no comptroller's office, for there is no money to handle -- the Chincoteaguer never has any taxes to pay; there is no street urchin to shout out the daily News, for there is not a printing-press on the island. Though there are none of the resources of civilization on the island, still I would venture to say that there is more solid happiness to the acre on Chincoteague than can be found in most any other place in the country. The sweet tones of the church bell divides with the lapping of the waves on the shell-strewn beach the office of breaking the monotony of the long evening while the native "hangs round" swapping stories and smoking his short pipe till the early bed claims him for rest. Even the tremendous wave of
politics that has swept over the rest of the country has left him undisturbed. If the financial problem were left to the six hundred registered voters on the island, it would be easily settled without any very great expenditure of oratory, for, as one of them remarked, "We never see any gold down here, and never expect to." It would be safe to venture the assertion that there are not two gold-pieces in the whole place. The postmaster showed me one as a thing of great curiosity, and it probably could not be matched in the community.
A witty parish priest once asked what kind of a parish had he, replied that he could best tell by saying that there was not a piano in the place. There was one piano on Chincoteague; I saw it. It was in the possession of a runner from Baltimore, and he was trying to dispose of it -- with what success the future alone will reveal.
To sketch a mental picture of Chincoteague: imagine a low lying sand-bar half a mile wide; one side protected from the ocean by the somewhat elevated and heavily-wooded promontory Assateague, and on the other side by one of those wide bays, running parallel with the ocean, so well known on the Atlantic coast. On the bay side, and skirting the shore, is the only street, on which the people live, move, and have their being. It must have been laid out in ye olden time before the newfangled prohibition ideas invaded the place. It is quite certain that no surveyor's theodolite ever marked the line on which the houses are built. Some of the more important houses, like the hotel and the Red Men's Hall, are pretentious in their architecture, but the majority of them were built on the style not uncommonly known as carpenter's gothic. Some few of the houses were painted and surrounded by neat gardens, but most of them were innocent of any decoration. One house particularly we noticed was surmounted by high-reaching lightning-rods and surrounded by a very strong fence, but over the gateway was painted, in very large letters, "In God we trust."
Our business on the island was to give a non-Catholic mission. History does not record any positive effort made during the past fifty years to establish any Catholic church there, and the memory of the "oldest residenter" recalls only two or three visits made by a priest in any official capacity. Of course among the three thousand people there were no Catholics at all. Report had it, however, that two or three had been Catholics, and had fallen away. The last visit of a priest to the island was three years ago. Surely here was virgin soil into which it was given to us to sow the seeds of Catholic truth.
As we took up our quarters in the hotel, kept by Captain Mathews, we introduced ourselves (there were two of us) as Catholic priests and announced our intention of calling the people together to preach the truths of the Catholic faith. Before our coming there had been little or no announcement of our purpose. We secured the Red Men's Hall, the largest in the place, and hired a colored boy to put up posters announcing the fact that there would be preaching there by two Catholic priests for three nights. We then kept ourselves very much in evidence during the rest of the afternoon, by parading up and down the main street, meeting some of the storekeepers, talk-
ing "shop" with the oystermen, and inviting all we came in contact with to come to the meeting at night.
It was evident that in the beginning we were a puzzle to some of the matter-of-fact folk. If we had charged an admission fee, our purpose would have been easily comprehended; we would have been classed among the second and third rate shows that float into these out-of-the-way places. But why two men should come from afar, paying all expenses, renting a hall, living at the hotel, and hoping to get nothing in return -- this they could not see through. I believe it was this, far more than anything we said or any tract we gave away, that made the deepest impression on the people.
The first night, whether it was we were not sufficiently advertised or whether, being strangers, they were a little suspicious of us, our hall was not filled; and they who were there were, with only two or three exceptions, men and growing boys. Why the women absented themselves did not reveal itself till the next day, when we were asked on all sides if women were allowed to come in. Some very wide spread impression prevailed that only men would be admitted.
But to the crowd that did come we preached with all the force of earnestness we possessed. We told them of the soul and its importance, and that life was more than meat; and of the God-man dying to save sinners; and it was cheering to see with what avidity these simple folk drank it all in. Even the boys, who were stretched out on the back benches eating peanuts, rose up on their elbows as the preacher warmed up, forgot their munching, and listened with the greatest attention. What a tremendous dramatic power there is in the oft-repeated story of the redemption!
We had a good opportunity to study the varying phases of human nature. The men before us were, with scarcely an exception, men who spent their lives on the water, made their living out of the generosity of the sea. I believe that living so close to the heart of nature, surrounded by a vast expanse of sea and sky, and being dependent on the bounties of tide and wave, does develop the religious nature in a man. This may be one reason why our Lord selected his apostles from among fishermen. Anyhow, as these hardy men, with their peaked faces, and leathery skin, and lanky necks, and shoulders rounded as a spoon -- as they listened a new expression came into their countenance and a new light into their eye that seemed to transform them, and so eager was their look and so intent their gaze that it was quite evident
that they were interested as never before. When the sermon was over they were loath to go; they gladly took the literature we had to give away, and left us intending to come again. We felt that we had secured an audience.
As usual, we placed in evidence the question-box, and as the interest in our work developed we found that even in this out-of-the-way place the human heart had not been unvexed by the deep question of the soul. Many of the inquiries touched on the teaching of the church in regard to the next world, particularly the doctrine of purgatory. It seems passing strange that the idea of a place of purification had lodged itself so firmly in the non-Catholic mind when the tendency of all religious teaching outside the church has been to ignore it. The testimony of the question-box at all these missions is that the religious mind, in spite of adverse teaching, has convinced itself of the existence of such a place, and wants to know what Scriptural reasons there are for it. The same may be said of an official tribunal for the forgiveness of sin. There is no more universal fact than the existence of sin. That a man feels that he is a sinner is the very soil in which the seed of religion takes root. When a man becomes con-
vinced that he is sinful, his next idea is how can he be made clean; so the universal religious mind is sure that there must be a God-given way of absolution from sin, or the work of a redeeming God is incomplete. It is because the strong common sense of the religious mind has got thus far in its reasoning that so often is asked the questions, How does a man claim to forgive sin? What reason have you for the confessional? etc.
We were much entertained by the question of a one-armed Jew peddler whom early during our stay we met on the road with his pack over his shoulder, and whom we afterwards saw in the audience. We give it in full, warts and all, even to the peculiar spelling, just as it was dropped into the question-box:
"Question. As we have plenty of churches and there was another one built not long ago, and the people strained themselves and went in debt for it and we could have made out very well without it and could have taken that money and built a nice school building and get a few more good teachers and learn the children some
Would it not have bin better to have something in this town for poor people to make something then to have to go out in the bay, I do not mean old people but young people can work in the bay, Let me know how many poor people have strained themselves to pay for you coming down here to preach or stuff us full of catholic foolishness, Take my advice and look after poor people and help them to make a living and if that does not take you to heaven Catholicism will take you to hell."
The poor fellow in his daily trudging over the dusty roads had spent not a little time turning up and down in his mind some very important question of social economy. Anyhow it gave us an opportunity to tell what a good mother the church was, how she looked out for the daily needs of her children even in things of this world, and with no little emphasis we asserted that it was a good way to demonstrate her divinity by showing how she assuages the ills of humanity. The usual vicious charges against the church appeared here -- like the existence of cells under churches, the immuring of nuns, and the church's opposition to the public school; all of which went very far to show that lies travel with fleet wings, while steady truth has but a leaden heel. The answers were listened to with bated breath, and at the close of each evening's dis-
course we gave out to all who came copies of Searle's Plain Facts. These and the tracts were taken home and read with greatest interest.
Three days did we spend here. Our Mass was said privately every morning in the room we occupied in the hotel. We placed the altar-stone on the bureau; and, with a towel over the mirror and the necessities for the Holy Sacrifice in their places, while one was altar-boy the other celebrated the great mystery. Though the entourage of the great church with dim religious light was absent, yet probably a deeper devotion compensated for the lack of these churchly surroundings.
The following nights our crowd increased until the closing service, when even several counter attractions -- sensational shows -- in the main street could not draw our interested people away. They came from near and from far to attend, and stayed until the last word was said, and shook us warmly by the hand as we departed.
A peculiar settlement at one end of the island, of what was known as the "Sanctified People," interested us much. It was one of the many vagaries of the Protestant theory of grace to imagine that the Lord had so taken hold of
one that there was no further possibility of falling from his friendship. It is but a logical step when one begins to think he can do no wrong to persuade himself that everything he does is right. The class of people that settled here had come to this state of mind, and under the cloak of religion the worst vices were rampant; immorality stalked openly in the streets; but when they began using firearms and the lives of the helpless were in danger, the people rose up and drove them out. Old Marm Jester, who remembered vividly the scene she had gone through, said it was far worse than the "fever 'n' ager."
Our visit to Chincoteague was not without its results. It is quite sure that a better idea of the true church was implanted in the hearts of the people. With people who live a simple life and have few distractions ideas received are readily retained. If any attempt should be made by any calumniator of the church to vomit forth his lies here he will get a very short shrift from these folk. They have learned what the truth is and it will be no easy matter to disabuse them of their well-grounded notions. Whether converts will be made will depend largely on the possibility of future work.