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Jacobe fili dilectissime quid fecisti?" cried the Dominie, holding up the fragment of his coat with a look of despair. "`A long pull, a strong pull, and a pull altogether," sang out old Tom: and then looking at Tom, "Now, ain't you a pretty rascal, master Tom?" "It is done," exclaimed the Dominie, with a sigh, putting the fragment into the remaining pocket; "and it cannot be undone."
This is that dismal conquest we all deplore, that makes us so often cry, O Adam, quid fecisti? I thank God I have not those straight ligaments or narrow obligations to the world as to dote on life, or be convulsed and tremble at the name of death.
I learnt my first lesson in a quarter of an hour; and I remember well how that unsmiling, grave man looked into my smiling eyes, parting the chestnut curls, which the matron would not cut off, from my brows, and saying, "Bene fecisti, Jacobe."
Have we ever sufficiently reflected that the purely negative philosophy has done nothing for idealism in any shape or form? It has inspired no art, music or poetry. With nothing to draw upon but the blind whirl of infinite atoms and infinite forces, of which man is himself the haphazard and highest production, it has contented itself with the elementary work of destruction, without even attempting to dig the foundations for anything which it is proposed to erect in the place of what has been destroyed. "Scepticism," says Carlyle, "is, after all, only half a magician. She calls up more spectres than she can lay." Scepticism was, nay is, sometimes, a necessary attitude of the human mind. But man cannot live on doubt alone, and therefore, though we profoundly believe the possibility of living the good life independently of religious sanctions, we unhesitatingly affirm the deep need man has of religious emotion to satisfy the ineradicable instinct of his nature towards communion with the unseen world. Here are the words of a man who had exhausted the possibilities of life before he wrote them, conveying in the simplest, though most penetrating way, a most momentous truth: "Fecisti nos Domine ad Te, et irrequiêtum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in Te". "Thou hast made us, O Lord, for Thyself, and our heart is restless until it find rest in Thee." And if we would have a modern commentary upon this saying of the fourth century writer, Augustine of Hippo, here are a few words of Victor Hugo, spoken in the French Parliament of the forties: "Dieu se retrouve
Prosternunt se in faciem et discoopertis natibus, jubent ut supra nudas nates conficirtur panis, ut eo decocto tradunt maritis suis ad comedendum. Hoc ideo faciunt ut plus exardescant in amorem suum. Si fecisti, duos annos per legitimas ferias pœniteas. "Fecisti quad quædam mulieres facere solent?
But there are two of us, and rather let my head be thrown into the dust along with the head of my Michal than her name and mine should be written over the pillory to our eternal shame. Here we remain, come what may." "Good! Be it so!" said Simplex. "But, at least, defend yourself. You know the rule: 'Si fecisti, nega! We will give the accusers enough to do.
Fecisti patriam diversis gentibus unam: Profuit invitis te dominante capi; Dumque offers victis proprii consortia iuris, Urbem fecisti quod prius orbis erat. In this noble apostrophe Rutilius addressed the fading mistress of the world as he passed lingeringly through the Ostian gate.
This is that dismal conquest we all deplore, that makes us so often cry, "Adam, quid fecisti?"
Bourchard, Bishop of Worms, has transmitted to us an account of certain aphrodisiacal charms practised by women of his time, the disgusting obscenity of which is such that we cannot venture upon translating the passage: "Fecisti quod quædam mulieres facere solent?
Augustine, "Fecisti nos ad te, Domine, et inquietum est cor nostrum donec requiescat in te": Thou hast made us for Thyself, O Lord, and our heart is unquiet until its rests in Thee, this however, as any one may be tempted to fence and juggle with the fact, is the truth on which all the rest depends.
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