University of Santa Clara - Redwood Yearbook (Santa Clara, CA)

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THE REDWOOD 15 ' THE POET PRIEST OF THE SOUTH ' The subject of this little sketch, Father Abram J. Ryan, is but a minor light in the firmament of American Poetry. It is good, however, to stoop at times to the study of composers of an inferior degree, for as Father Ryan him- self has said: Betimes The grandest songs depart While the gentle, humble and low-toned rhymes Will echo from heart to heart. They have many things worthy of our admiration; nay, in some particular points they may surpass those whose general qualities win them immortality. Moreover, by their palpable defects they teach us negative lessons, which the masters, because of their perfection, are incapable of imparting. Before considering Father Ryan ' s poems, let us first briefly sketch his life. The exact date and place of his birth are as yet unknown. According to some he was born at Norfolk, Va., in 1834; according to others at Hagerstown, Md., in 1836; while it may yet be proved that he was a native of Limerick, Ireland. His deep sympathy for the persecuted sons of Erin, which in many of his poems he manifests as strongly as the Irish Bards themselves, is a strong point in favor of the last opinion. The first reliable information we have of him is that he entered the schools of the Christian Brothers at St. Louis, Mo., at the age of seven. By the hands of these celebrated teachers and guardians of youth were sown the seeds of Chris- tian piety which bore so lasting a fruit. For many years he served as acolyte on the College altar. He loved the lights, and flowers and incense, the music and prayers, but above all the still solemn presence of God. His vocation soon manifested itself and waxed strong; and at seventeen years of age be parted from his mother and brother to enter upon his priestly studies in the Eccles- iastical Seminary at Niagara, N. Y. After six years of study, marked by dis- tinguished success, he was ordained and sent back as a Missionary to the South- ern States. Records of him during this period, owing no doubt to the scattered and poor condition of the co untry parishes at that time, are very scarce. He springs into full view only at the outbreak of the Civil War, when he was appointed army chaplain in the ranks of Robert Lee. The events of the five terrible years that followed, drew from Father Ryan some of his best poems. After the war he was stationed at Nashville, then at Clarksville, Tenn; afterwards at Augusta Ga. In 1870 he was made pastor of St. Mary ' s Church, Mobile, Ala., the last scene of his fervent minis- trations. Of this beloved retreat he sang:

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14 THE REDWOOD A DEAD LOVE Farewell, I said to my dearest friend, Farewell, for we must part, And I took his hand from out of mine, And love from out my heart; And I turned and walked no more with him, And I tried to heal the smart. Then I found me other friends to love, And I sought their love in turn, Yet my heart was still an empty void, Nor ceased for love to yearn; For a wound within its inner core, Forever there did burn. Then I cried, Old friend come back to me, Come back for there still is room, And I cast all other love away, But I could not cast the gloom; For a dead love whispered to my heart, My love is in the tomb. Senior.

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i6 THE REDWOOD God comes closer to me here Back of every rose-leaf there He is hiding — and the air Thrills with calls to holy prayer; Earth grows far, and heaven near. During this pastorate, he made an extended lecture tour in behalf of char- ity, and it was while engaged in this work, that he contracted the disease of which he afterwards died. He had long cherished the idea of writing a Eife of Christ, and now though in an ex- tremely feeble condition, he outlined the work and wrote the introduction; then deeming himself unfit for the handling of so divine a theme, unless inflamed by a glimpse of Sinai, or touched with the coals of the Seraphim, he retired before beginning his work into a Franciscan Monastery at Louisville to make a re- treat; he went up into the mountain, as he would say, to hold sweet converse with God. But it was not to be. His Master whom he so loved, thought him- self sufficiently honored in his sweet songs and he heard the final summons home. Bowing submissively to the Di- vine Will, the poet Priest hurried back to St. Mary ' s, the home of his predilec- tion. Back to where the roses rest Round a shrine of holy name, — More of peace and less of fame Suit my restless heart the best. No wonder that he should prefer to close his eyes upon the world, in that peaceful abode. Here on the 23rd of April, 1886, he rendered up his pure gentle spirit to his Maker, leaving be- hind an example of lofty genius made subservient to the lowly duties of a country priest. But though of his character we are so proud, we do not claim his poetry was faultless. We could not do this for Homer. And here we may stop for a moment to consider why his poems have been neglected by some learned men of his own and our time. First then, Father Ryan was a Cath- olic Priest. We can hardly expect that among a non-Catholic people, poems which treat of the Sacraments, of the Presence of God on the altar, poems in which a predominant strain is love for the Mother of God, would be gener- ally acceptable. How could such poems be valued by those who cannot enter into the feelings by which they are inspired? Another obstacle to the universal acceptance of Father Ryan in this country is his strong Southern tone. We shall not here discuss whether he was right or wrong, suffice it to say that he wrote neither for hate-sake nor harm-sake as is amply shown in his Prayer of the South, as well as in Reunited, — a burst of gratitute for the generous help which in 1878 the North- ern states offered to the plague-stricken sufferers of Tennessee. In this latter he says: The Northland, strong in love and great Forgot the stormy days of strife; Forgot that souls with dreams of hate, Of unforgiveness e ' er were rife. Forgotten was each thought and hushed,