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Docl 
 
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PUKGATORY-. 
 
 Doctrinal, Historical and Poetical, 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS 
 
 J ^A.DI'I^^^* 
 
 Lo I Purgatory I doctrinb BtEST, 
 Engarlanded with legends wild, 
 
 .Mn PoKTRY'9 fair FLOWERS I 
 
 Historic lorb and Postry » 
 
 . • thnl I may praise thy name: the just 
 << Bring my soul out of prison, thaf I may p 
 ^ait for me, until thou re-ward me," 
 
 Ps. CXLI. 8. 
 
 J 
 
 1 
 
 % , 
 
 
 D & J.SADl-IER & COMPANY, 
 81 A 88 Barclay Street. 
 
 H0LV HCOEEMER LIBRARY, VilNDSOft 
 
 .. . A iSiiiiiia** <?^«f« 
 
H|i^iatM*V^MP«MqCP^paM«fl 
 
 un mmm m mmmmi:\ $ M mm 
 
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 IMPRIMATUR: 
 ^ MICHAEL AUGUSTINE, 
 
 Archbishop of New York. 
 
 Copyright, 1886. 
 K. & A. SADLIER. 
 
 
 nM4r '^ 
 
 4 
 
 Electrotyped by Smith & McDougal, 
 82 Beekman St., New York. 
 
 Printed by Edward O. Jenkins' Sons, 
 20 North William St., New York. 
 
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 Jk. 
 
 m\y 
 
 
 DKDICATION 
 
 TO TIIF, GRACIOUS MF.MORY 
 
 OF MY DEARLY-BELOVED SON, 
 
 Rev. Francis X. S7\dlier, S.J, 
 
 WHOSE Tr.XDER DEVOTION TO THE 
 
 M\\\^ in guvg;vtovjj 
 
 LED HIM TO TAKE A DEEP AND ACTIVE INTEREST 
 IN THE PROGRESS OF THIS WORK, 
 
 BUT WHO WAS NOT PER.MITTED TO SEE ITS COMPIETION, 
 
 BEING CALLED HENCE, SCARCELY THREE MONTHS 
 
 AFTER HIS ORDINATION, IN THE MIDDLE OF 
 
 THE MONTH CONSECRATED TO THOSE 
 
 i^ollj 0OUl0, 
 
 i I 
 
 ' 
 
 4 i *' 
 
 n 
 
 November i/i^th, 1885. 
 
 R. I. P. 
 
 ' *\ 
 
t 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 ^ 
 
 „ 
 
 I HAVE written many books and translated many more on a 
 great variety of subjects, nearly all of which, I thank God now 
 with all my heart, were more or less religious, at least in their 
 tendency ; but the circle of these my life-long labors seems to me 
 incomplete. One link is wanting to the chain, and that is a work 
 specially devoted to the souls in Purgatory. This omission I am 
 anxious to supply while the working days of my life are still with 
 me, for, a few more years, at most, and for me " the night cometh 
 when no man can work." 
 
 As we advance into the vale of years and journey on the down- 
 ward slope, we are happily drawn more and more towards the 
 eternal truths of the great untried world beyond the grave. Fore- 
 most amongst these stands out more and still more clearly, in all 
 its awful reality, the dread but consoling doctrine of Purgatory. 
 When we have seen many of our best beloved relatives, many of 
 our dearest and most devoted friends — those who started with us in 
 *' the freshness of morning " on the road of life, which then lay so 
 deceitfully fair and bright before them and us — they who shared our 
 early hopes and aspiration'?, and whose words and smiles were the 
 best encouragement of our ..j' ble efforts — when we have seen them 
 sink, one by one, into the darkness of the grave, leaving the earth 
 more bleak and dreary year by year for those who remain — then do 
 we naturally follow them in spirit to those gloomy regions where 
 one or all may be undergoing that blessed purification which pre- 
 pares them for the eternal repose of Heaven. 
 
 Of all the divine truths which the Catholic Church proposes to 
 her children, assuredly none is more acceptable to the pilgrim race 
 of Adam than that of Purgatory. It is, beyond conception, dear 
 and precious as one of the links that connect the living with the 
 vanished dead, and which keeps them fresh in the memory of those 
 
 I 
 
 t- i ii 
 
 I J 
 
6 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 who loved thorn on earth, and whose dearest joy it is to be able to 
 help them in that sliadowy border-land through which, in pain and 
 sorrow, they must journey before entering the Land of i'romisc, 
 vvhicli is the City of God, seated on the everlasting hills. 
 
 When I decided on adding yet another to the many books on 
 I'urgatory already existing even in our own language, I, at the same 
 time, resolved to make it as different as possible from all the others, 
 and thus fill up a void of which I have long been sensible in our 
 English I'urgatorial literature. Doctrinal works, books of devo- 
 tion, we have in abundance, but it is, unhappily, only the pious, the 
 religiously-inclined who will read tlicm. Knowing this, and still 
 desirous to promote devotion to the Holy Souls by making Purgatory 
 more real, more f;iniiliar to the general reader, I thought the very 
 best means I could take for that end would be to make a book 
 chiefly of legends and of poetry, with enough of doctrinal and devo- 
 tional matter to give a substantial character to the work by placing 
 it on the solid foundations of Catholic dogma, patristic authority, 
 and that, at the same time, of the latest divines and theologians of 
 the Church, by selections from their published writings. 
 
 I have divided the work into five parts, viz.: Doctrinal and De- 
 votional, comprising extracts from Suarez, St. Catherine of Genoa, 
 St. Augustine, St. Gertrude, St. Francis de Sales, of the earlier and 
 middle ages ; and from Archbishop Gibbons, Very Rev. Fad di 
 Bruno, Father Faber, Father Muller, C.SS.R., Father Binet, S.J., 
 Rev. J. J. Moriarty, and others. 
 
 The Second Part consists of Anecdotes and Incidents relating to 
 Purgatory, and move or less authentic. The Third Part contains 
 historical matter bearing on the same subject, including Father 
 Lambing's valuable article on " The Belief in a Middle State of Souls 
 after Death amongst Pagan Nations." The Fourth Part is made 
 up of "Thoughts on Purgatory, from Various Authors, Catholic and 
 non-Catholic," including Cardinals Newman, Wiseman, and Man- 
 ning; the Anglican Bishops Jeremy Taylor and Reginald Heber, 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson, William Hurrell Mallock, Count de Maistre, 
 Chateaubriand. 
 
 The Fifth and last part consists of a numerous collection of 
 legends and poems connected with Purgatory. Many of these are 
 
 A 
 
INTRODUCTION. 
 
 Jt — ^ 
 
 ansliitcd from the French, especially ihc /.^<:;oiJi's (L' I'Aiifrt' Afomft', 
 by the well-known legendist, J. Colin do I'hincy. In selecting the 
 legends and anecdotes, I have endeavored to give only those that 
 were new to most I'aiglish readers, thus leaving out many legends 
 that would well bear reproducing, but were already too well known 
 to excite any fresh interest. 
 
 In the poetical section I have represented as many as possible 
 of the best-known poets, from Dante down, and some poems of 
 rare beauty and merit were translated from French and Canadian 
 poets by my daughter, who has also contributed some interesting 
 articles for the historical portion of the work. As may be sup- 
 posed, this book is the fruit of much research. The collection of 
 the material has necessarily been a work of time, the field from 
 which the gleanings were made being so vast, and the selections 
 requiring so much care. 
 
 As regards the legendary portion of the work, whether prose or 
 poetry, the reader will, of course, understand that I give the legends 
 precisely for what they are worth ; by no means as representing the 
 doctrinal belief of Purgatory, but merely as some of the wild flowers 
 of poetry and romance that have grown, in the long lapse of time, 
 from the rich soil of L\\\.\\ and piety, amongst the Catholic peoi)les 
 of every land — intensified, in this instance, by the natural affection of 
 the living for their dear departed ones, and the solemn and shadowy 
 mystery in which the dead are shrouded when once they have passed 
 the portals of eternity and are lost to mortal sight. Some of these 
 legends, though exceedingly beautiful, will hardly bear close ex- 
 amination in the light of Catholic dogma. Of this class is "The 
 Faithful Soul," of Adelaide Procter, which is merely given here as 
 an old French legend, nearly connected with Purgatory, and having 
 really nothing in it contrary to faith, though in a high degree im- 
 probable, but yet from its intrinsic beauty and dramatic character, 
 no less than the subtle charm of Miss Procter's verse, eminently 
 worthy of a place in this collection. The same remark applies 
 more or less to some of Colin de Plancy's legends, notably that of 
 " Robert the Devil's Penance," and others of a similar kind, as also 
 T. D. McGee's " Penance of Don Diego Rias " and Calderon's " St. 
 Patrick's Purgatory" — the two last named bearing on the same 
 
 
 ' M 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 
 1! 
 
 I" 
 
 subject. Nevertheless, they all come within the scope of my 
 ])rc.sent work and are, therefore, presented to the reader as weird 
 fra;;ments of the legendary lore of Purgatory. 
 
 Taken altogether, I think this work will help to increase devotion 
 to the Suffering Souls, and excite a more tender and more sensible 
 feeling of sympathy for them, at least amongst Catholics, showing, 
 as it does, the awful reality of those purgative pains awaiting all, 
 with few or no exceptions, in the after life; the help they may and 
 do receive from the good offices of the living, and the sacred and 
 solemn duty it is for Christians in the present life to remember 
 them and endeavor to relieve their sufferings by every means in 
 their power. To answer this purpose I have made the dead ages 
 unite their solemn and authoritative voice with that of the living, 
 actual present in testimony of the truth of this great Catholic 
 dogma. The Saints, the Fathers, the Doctors of the Church in 
 tlie ages of antitjuity, and the prelates and priests of our own day 
 all speak the same language of undoubting faith, of solemn convic- 
 tion regarding Purgatory, — make the same earnest and eloquent 
 appeal to the faithful on behalf of the dear suffering souls, lu'cn 
 the heathen nations and tribes of both hemispheres are brought for- 
 ward as witnesses to the existence of a middle state in the after life. 
 Nor is Protestantism itself wanting in this great and overwhelming 
 mass of evidence, as the reader will perceive that some of its most 
 eminent divines and secular writers have joined, with no hesitating 
 or faltering voice, in the grand Credo of the nations and the ages in 
 regard to Purgatory. 
 
 What remains for me to add except the earnest hope that this 
 book may have the effect it is intended to produce by bringing the 
 faithful children of the Church to think more and oftcner of their 
 departed brethren who, having passed from the Militant to the 
 Suffering Church, are forever crying out to the living from their 
 darksome prison — "Have pity on us, have pity on us, at least you 
 who were our fiiends, have pity on us, for the hand of the Lord is 
 heavy upon us ! " 
 
 
 / .!, 
 
 i! 
 
4 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 Introdttction 
 
 PAGR 
 
 • 5 
 
 PART I. 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 Doctrine of Suarez on Purgatory 17 
 
 St. Catherine of Genoa on Purgatory 23 
 
 Extracts from the Fathers on Purgatory 29 
 
 Verses from the Imitation .... Thomas ct Kcmpis. 37 
 
 St. Augustine and liis Mother, St. Monica 38 
 
 St. Gertrude and the Holy Souls 41 
 
 St. Joseph's Intercession for the Faithful Departed ... 45 
 
 St. Francis de Sales on Purgatory 46 
 
 Cardinal Gibbons on Purgatory 48 
 
 Archbishop Hughes on Purgatory 54 
 
 Archbishop Lynch on Purgntory 57 
 
 Purgatory Surveyed Father Bind, S. y. 62 
 
 Father Faber on Devotion to the Holy Souls 96 
 
 Why the Souls in Purgatory are called "Poor" . . Midler. 107 
 
 Appeal to all Classes for the Souls in Purgatory 122 
 
 By a Paulist Father. 
 
 The Souls in Purgatory . . . Rev. F. X. Weninger, S. % 125 
 
 Popular View of Purgatory .... Rev. y. y. Moriarty. 130 
 
 Extracts from "Catholic Belief " 136 
 
 Very Rev. Fad Di Bruno, D.D. 
 
 Purgatory and the Feast of All Souls . . . Allan Butler. 143 
 
 \ 
 
 m\ 
 
w 
 
 10 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 W' 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 h! 
 
 II 
 
 The Fruit of a Mass . . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 147 
 
 Faith of a Pious Lady . Ahnaiian of the Souls in Furgatory. 149 
 
 Pay what Thou Owest Ave Maria. 151 
 
 Via Crucis Footsteps of Spirits. 155 
 
 Strange Incidents Footsteps of Spirits. 156 
 
 True Story of the " Z>6' ^r<?/'««^/>r " Ave Maria. 159 
 
 Confidence Rewarded . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 164 
 
 Anecdoie of the " Z?^ /V<7/'('/;/^//> " 167 
 
 Strange Occurrence in a Persian Prison 167 
 
 Life of St. jfohn the Almoner. 
 
 A Swiss Protestant Converted by the Doctrine of Purgatoiy . 169 
 
 Catechism in Fxamples. 
 
 The Dead Hand Ave Maria. 170 
 
 A Beautiful Plxample . . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 174 
 
 How to Pay One's Debts . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. I'j'j 
 
 Faith Rewarded . . . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 179 
 
 Apparition of a Citizen of Aries . . . Histoire des Spectres. 181 
 
 Countess of Strafford .... Vie de Monsgr. de la Mothe. 182 
 
 Marquis de Civrac Une Commune Vendemue. 183 
 
 Gratitude of the Holy Souls Ave Maria. 184 
 
 Strange Incident Ave Maria. 186 
 
 y 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
 PART III. 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 Doctrine of Purgatory amongst the Pagan Nations of Antiquity 191 
 
 Rev. A. A. Lambing. 
 Devotion to the Dead amongst American Indians . . . .202 
 
 Superstitious Belief amongst American Indians 205 
 
 Remembrance of the Dead amongst the Egyptians . . . .206 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 C 
 I 
 
 c 
 
 V 
 
 c 
 
i^MfcMaiii«iritiMwaaNBii;& 
 
 4 
 
 I 
 
 ♦ 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 II 
 
 PAGP, 
 
 Remembrance of the Dead throughout Europe 207 
 
 yl. T. Sadlia: Part I. 
 
 Remembrance of the Dead throughout Europe 219 
 
 A. T. Sadlicr. Part IL 
 Prayer for the Dead in the Anglo-Saxon Church . Dr. Lingard. 232 
 
 Singular French Custom Voix de la Vcriie. 241 
 
 Devotion to the Holy Souls amongst the Early English . . 242 
 
 A. T. Sadlicr. 
 Doctrine of Purgatory in the Early Irish Church . . Walsh. 251 
 
 Prince Napoleon's Prayer 253 
 
 Helpers of the Holy Souls Lady G. Fullcrton. 255 
 
 The Mass in Relation to the Dead O'Brien. 272 
 
 Daniel O'Connell, Funeral Oration^on . Rev. T. N'. Burke, O.P. 278 
 
 Indulgence of the Portiuncula 283 
 
 Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 
 Catherine of Cardona . . Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory. 289 
 
 The Emperor Nicholas Praying for his IMother 296 
 
 Anecdotes Chretiennes. 
 Pius VI., Funeral Oration on . Rev. Arthur O^Lcary, O.S.F. 297 
 Rev. Arthur O'Leary, O.S.F., Funeral Oration on .... 299 
 
 Rev. M. HArcy. 
 De Mortuis. Our Deceased Prelates . Archbishop Corrigan, 299 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON PURGATORY. 
 
 Purgatory Cardinal N'eioman. 303 
 
 Our Debt to the Dead Cardinal Manning. 305 
 
 Purgatory Cardinal Wiseman. 307 
 
 Reply to some Misstatements about Purgatory 310 
 
 Archbishop Spalding. 
 
 Count de Maistre on Purgatory 311 
 
 What the Saints thought of Purgatory 312 
 
 Chateaubriand on Purgatory 314 
 
 f 
 
 n 
 
12 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 it ■■ ' 
 
 1" 
 
 !l. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Mary and the Faithful Departed .... Brother Azat-ias. 316 
 
 Dr. Johnson on Prayer for the Dead 323 
 
 The Doctrine of Purgatory Burnett. 325 
 
 Mallock on Purgatory 326 
 
 Boileau-Dcspre'aux and Prayer for the Dead 327 
 
 All Saints and All Souls Mrs. Sadlicr. 328 
 
 Leibnitz on the Mass as a Propitiatory Sacrifice ... . 329 
 
 Extracts from " A Troubled Heart " 330 
 
 Eugenie de Guerin and her Brother Maurice 332 
 
 Passages from the "Via Media" Newman. -^-^Tt 
 
 All Souls From the Fretich. 335 
 
 An Anglican Bishop Praying for the Dead 336 
 
 *' Purgatory " of Dante Mariotti. 338 
 
 Month of November Mary E. Blake. 341 
 
 Litany of the Departed .r . . . . Acolytus. 342 
 
 All Souls' Day Mrs. Sadlier. 344 
 
 Cemeteries 347 
 
 Opinions of Various Protestants 348 
 
 Some Thoughts for November 351 
 
 PART V. 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 Dies Irce 357 
 
 Authorship of the Dies free 359 
 
 Dante's '■'' Furgatorio^^ ... 362 
 
 Hamlet and the Ghost SJiakespearc. 367 
 
 Calderon's " Purgatory of St. Patrick " 368 
 
 The Brig o' Dread Scott. 379 
 
 Shelley and the Purgatory of St. Patrick 383 
 
 On a Great Funeral Aubrey de Vere. 384 
 
 Morte d' Arthur Tennyson. 384 
 
 Guido and his Brother Collin de Flancy. 386 
 
 Bcrthold in Purgatory Collin de Flamy. 387 
 
 
 I 
 
 
f\ 
 
 H 
 
 I 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 13 
 
 PAr.r, 
 
 Legend of St. Nicholas Co/Zm dc Plancy. 389 
 
 Dream of Geiontius A'cwman. 390 
 
 St. Gregory Releases the Soul of Trajan . . Afrs. 'Jameson. 393 
 
 St. Gregory and the Monk 395 
 
 Legend of Geoffroid d'Iden 395 
 
 The Queen of Purgatory Fabcr. 397 
 
 The Dead Priest before the Altar . . . Rev. A. y. Ryan. 398 
 
 Memorials of the Dead R. R. Madden. 399 
 
 A Child's " Rcquiescat in Pace " . . . . Eliza Allen Starr. 400 
 
 The Solitary Soul Ave Maria. 401 
 
 Story of the Faithful Soul Adelaide Procter. 404 
 
 Geiidrade, the Friend of St. Augustine .... De Plancy. 407 
 St. Thomas Aq^unas and Friar Romanus . . . De Plancy. 409 
 The Key that Never Turns .... Eleanor C. Donnelly. 411 
 
 A Burial Thomas Daiis. 41 1 
 
 Hymn for the Dead N'ewman. 412 
 
 The Two Students De Plancy. 413 
 
 The Penance of Don Diego Riaz McGee. 416 
 
 The Day of All Souls Eliza Allen Starr. 419 
 
 Message of the November Wind . . Eleanor C. Donnelly. 420 
 
 Legend of the Time of Charlemagne 42 1 
 
 The Dead Mass 423 
 
 The Eve of St. John Sir Walter Scott. 424 
 
 Request of a Soul in Purgatory 42 6 
 
 All Souls' Marion Miiir. 430 
 
 The Dead Octave Cremazie. 431 
 
 A Requiem Sir Walter Scott. 435 
 
 Penance of Robert the Devil De Plancy. 437 
 
 All Souls' Eve 441 
 
 Commemoration of All Souls . . . Harriet M. Skidmore. 443 
 
 The Memory of the Dead Faber. 446 
 
 The Holy Souls . Author of ^^C/iristiajt Schools and Scholars.^' 44S 
 
 The Palmer's Rosary Eliza Allen Starr. 449 
 
 A Lyke Wake Dirge 450 
 
 All Souls' Day Lyra Lituri;ica. 452 
 
 ■ 
 
 I 
 
n 
 
 14 
 
 TABLE OF CONTENTS. 
 
 PACE 
 
 The Suffering Souls E. M. V. Bulger. 454 
 
 'i'he Voices of the Dead M. R. in'' The Lampy \^^ 
 
 The Convent Cemetery Rev. A. jf. Ryan. 458 
 
 One Hour after Death Eliza Allen Starr. 459 
 
 A Prayer for the Dead T. D. McGee. 460 
 
 The De Profundis Bell Harriet M. Skidtnore. 462 
 
 November Anna T. Sadlier. 464 
 
 For the Souls in Purgatory 466 
 
 All Souls' Eve 468 
 
 Our Neighbor Eliza Allen Starr. 469 
 
 Old Bells 470 
 
 O Holy Church Harriet M. Skidmore. 471 
 
 An Incident of the Battle of Bannockburn . Sir Walter Scott. 0^12. 
 
 Pray for the Martyred Dead 474 
 
 In Winter Eliza Allen Starr. 475 
 
 Oremus Mary E. Mannix. 476 
 
 Funeral Hymn A. T. Sadlier. 476 
 
 Chant Fn7ilhre Nisard. 477 
 
 Rcquicscat in Pace Harriet M. Skidmore. 478 
 
 The Feast of All Souls in the Country . . Anna T. Sadlier. 480 
 Requiem ABternum T. D. McGee. 483 
 
 1 
 
 '4 
 
 »M 
 
 APPKNDIX. 
 
 Association of Masses and Stations of the Cross .... 487 
 
 Extracts from The Catholic Review of New York 488 
 
 A Duty of November The Texas Monitor. 49 1 
 
 Purgatorial Association Catholic Columbian. 494 
 
 The Holy Face and the Suffering Souls 495 
 
 When will they Learn its Secret ? . . . Baptist Examiner. 497 
 
 r 1 in 
 
•Si 
 
 'A. 
 
 r 
 
 PART I. 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL, 
 
 " But now, brethren, if I come to you, speaking witli tongues : 
 
 what shall I profit you, unless I speak to you either in revelation, 
 
 or in knowledge, or in prophecy, or in doctrine ? " 
 
 —St. Paul, I. Cor. 
 
 I 
 
■:'i{>M^,■!iJi»imtMm^■ 
 
 ■•^, 
 
 PURGATORY: 
 
 dogthinaLl and devotional. 
 
 DOCTRINE OF SUAREZ ON PURGATORY. 
 
 THE PLACE. 
 
 It is a certain truth of faith that after this hfc there is a 
 place of Purgatory. Though the name of Purgatory may 
 not be found in Holy Scripture, that does not matter, if \vc 
 can show that the thing meant by the name can be found 
 there ; for often the Church, either because of new here- 
 sies, or that the doctrine of the faith may be set forth 
 more clearly and shortly, gives new and simple names, in 
 which the mysteries of the faith are summed up. Tiiis is 
 evident in the cases of the Holy Trinity, the Incarnation, 
 and the Holy Eucharist. 
 
 The doctrine of Purgatory is proved by : — the Old 
 Testament, the New Testament, the Councils of the 
 Church, especially those of Florence and of Trent, tlic 
 Fathers and Tradition, and by theological reasons. 
 
 WHERE PURaATORY IS. 
 
 Nothing is said in Holy ^Scripture about this place, nor 
 is there any definition of the Church concerning it. The 
 subject, therefore, comes within the range of theological 
 discussion. Theologians, however, suppose Purgatory 
 to be a certain corporeal place, in which souls are kept 
 till they pay fully the debt which they owx. It is true 
 
 
 $.i 
 
 J ii 
 
i^*An' V ft i » lM itn^~'^<itf'^^"'^t' 
 
 i8 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 that they do not in themselves need a corporeal place, 
 since they are spirits ; but yet, as they are in this world, 
 they must, of necessity, be in some corporeal place — 
 at any rate, with regard to substantial presence. Thus 
 W'C see that Ciod, in His providence, has made definite 
 places for the iVngels, according to the difference of their 
 states. Gehenna is prepared for the devil and his angels, 
 whereas the empyreal Heaven is made for the good an- 
 gels. In this way, it is certain that the souls, paying 
 their debt, are kept in a corporeal place. This i)lace is 
 not heaven, for nothing that is defiled enters there ; nor 
 is it hell, for in hell there is no redemption, and from that 
 place no souls can be saved. 
 
 1 
 
 4. 
 
 * 
 
 PAIN OP LOSS AND SENSE. 
 
 The pain of loss is the want of the vision of God and 
 of the whole of our everlasting beatitude. The pain of 
 sense is the suffering of punishment specially inflicted 
 over and above the loss of the beatitude of Heaven. 
 
 We must assert that the souls in Purgatory suffer the 
 pain of loss, tempered by hope, and not like the souls in 
 hell, which have no hope. 
 
 In the pain of sense we can distinguish two things. 
 There is the sorrow which follows closely the w^ant or 
 delay of the vision of God, and has that for its object. 
 There is also another pain, as it were outward, and this 
 is proportioned to the sensible pain which is caused in us 
 by fire, or any like action, contrary to nature and hurtful 
 to it. That in Purgatory this sorrow does follow the loss 
 of God is most certain ; for that loss, or dcla}^, is truly a 
 great evil, and is most keenly felt to be such by those 
 souls that with all their strength love God and long to 
 see Him. Therefore, it is impossible for them not to feel 
 the greatest sorrow about that delay. 
 
 % 
 
 * 
 
 « 
 
I 
 
 .^>f^. A ■■ ■■■'■• [-vir- Tir"' "-"11 '"hiifti'ir 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL 
 
 ^ 
 
 19 
 
 1^. 
 
 We must assert that, besides the pain of loss and the 
 sorrow annexed to it, there is in l^iri^atory a proper and 
 peculiar pain of sense. This is the more eomnion judi^- 
 ment of the scholastics; and seems to be received by the 
 common judgment and api)r()bation of the Church. In- 
 deed, the equity of the avenging justice of God requires 
 this. The sinner, through inordinate delight in creat- 
 ures and affection for them, deserves a punishment con- 
 trary to that delight ; and if in this life he has not made 
 full satisfaction, he must be punished and freed by some 
 such pain as this, which we call the pain of sense. Theo- 
 logians in common teach this, and distinguish a proper 
 pain of sense from the sorrow caused by the want of the 
 vision of God. Thus they distinguish spiritual pains, 
 such as sorrow for the delay of the vision, and remorse 
 of conscience, from corporeal pains, which come from the 
 fire, or any other instrument of God. These corporeal 
 pains we comprehend under the pain of sense. 
 
 * -X- •5!- •::• -X- -X- * 
 
 Whether, besides the fire, other corporeal things, such 
 as water and snow, are used as instruments for punishing 
 the souls is uncertain. Bede says that souls in Purgatory 
 were seen to pass from very great heat to very great 
 cold, and then from cold to heat. St. Anselm mentions 
 these punishments disjunctively. He says, " or any other 
 kind of punishments." We cannot, therefore, speak of 
 this with certainty. 
 
 U 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 THE PAIN OP LOSS. 
 
 In this matter we may look at the pain of loss as well 
 as the pain of sense. It is certain that the pain of loss is 
 very sharp, because of the greatness of the good for which 
 they wait. True, it is only for a time ; yet it is rightly 
 reckoned, as St. Thomas taught, a greater evil than any 
 loss in this life. He and other theologians with him mean 
 that the sorrow also which springs from the apprehension 
 of this evil is greater than any pain or sorrow here. 
 
►ywfes^ jim i gn ii O " ' ' o • 
 
 1 
 
 20 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 ITcncc, they conclude tliat tlie pain of loss In every way 
 exceeds all pains of this life ; for tliey think, as I have al- 
 ready noted, tliat this sorrow pertains to the pain of loss, 
 and tiicrefore thcv join tliis pain with privation, that the 
 punishment may be j^reater in ever}' way. . . . The 
 vision of Ciod and the beatitude of heaven are sucHi that 
 tlie possession of them, even for a day, coidd exceed all 
 <^oods of this life taken toi^'cther and possessed for a lon^^ 
 time. . . . Therefore, even a short delay of such a 
 good is a very heavy sorrow, far exceeding- all the pains 
 of this life. The Holy Souls well imderstand and weigh 
 the greatness of this evil ; and very piercing is the pain 
 they feel, because they know that they are suffering 
 through their own negligence and by their own fault. 
 . . . There are, however, certain things which would 
 seem to have power to lessen their pain : 
 
 1. They are certain of future glory. This hope must 
 bring them much joy ; as St. Paul says, " rejoicing in 
 hope." (Roms. xii. 12.) 
 
 2. There is the Tightness of their will, by which they 
 are conformed to the justice of God. Hence, it follows 
 that, in a certain sense, their pain is voluntary, and thus 
 not so severe. 
 
 3. By the love of God they not only bear their punish- 
 ment, but rejoice in it, because they see that it is the 
 means of satisfying God and being brought to Heaven. 
 
 4. If they choose, they can turn their thoughts from the 
 pain of delay, and give them very attentively to the good 
 of hope. This would bring them consolation. 
 
 * * * * % '/: -15- 
 
 THE PAIN OF SENSE. 
 
 It is the common judgment of theologians, with St. 
 Augustine, St. Thomas, and St. Bonaventure, that this 
 pain is bitterer than all pain of this life. . . . Theo- 
 logians, in common with St. Thomas and St. Bonaven- 
 ture, teach that the pain of Purgatory is not in any way 
 inflicted by devils. These souls are just and holy. They 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DKVOTIONAL. 
 
 21 
 
 cannot sin an}- more ; and, to the last, they liavc over- 
 come tlic assaults of the devils. It would nc^t, tliercfore, 
 be littinu^ that such souls sliould bc^iven into their [)0\ver 
 to be tormented by Ihem. iVi^ain, w lien the devils temj)L 
 wayfarers, they do it because they hope to lead them into 
 sin, however ])erfect they may be; but they could have 
 no such \u)\)C about the souls in Turj^atory, and so would 
 not be lik'cly to tempt them. Besides, they know that 
 their temptations or harassings would have an effect not 
 intended by them, and would bring the souls from Pur- 
 gatory to Heaven more quickly. 
 
 ii -iv ^v vv %v- -.i •:> 
 
 It is the common law that souls in Purgatory, during 
 
 the whole time that they are there, cannot come out from 
 
 the prison, even if they wish. The constant closing of 
 
 the prison-doors is a part of the severity of their punisli- 
 
 ment. So teach St. John Chrysostom, St. Athanasius, 
 
 and vSt. Augustine. . . . The reason for this is the 
 
 law of the justice of God. The souls of the lost arc kept 
 
 in prison by force and against their will. The souls in 
 
 Purgatory stay there willingly, for they understand the 
 
 just will of God and submit to it. This law, however, can 
 
 be sometimes dispensed with ; and so wSt. Augustine holds 
 
 it to be probable that there are often true apparitions of 
 
 the Holy Souls by the permission of God. ... It is 
 
 true that, as a rule, these are apparitions of souls, who, 
 
 by a special decree of God, are suffering their Purgatory 
 
 somewhere in this world. . . . Gne thing, however, 
 
 we must note in these cases. When such a permission is 
 
 given, the pain of the soul is not interrupted. This is 
 
 not only seen from the visions themselves, but is what 
 
 reason requires. 
 
 * * •x- -;{• * -:j * 
 
 Here occurs the question whether the Holy Souls pray 
 for us and can gain anything for us by merit of congruity, 
 or, at least, impetrate it for us, as others prefer to say. 
 Some have said that they do not thus pray for us, because 
 it is not fitting to their state, in that they are debtors and, 
 
 aii! 
 
 iir 
 
 i I 
 
 I. 
 
 '} 
 
 I I; 
 
22 rURGATORY. 
 
 as it were, kept in prison for their debts ; and also be- 
 cause they do not see God, and so do not ivnovv what is 
 done here. They niij;ht know such things by special 
 revelations, but revelations of this kind are net due to 
 their state. But surely their penal state does not neces- 
 sarily liinder the Holy Souls Ironi prayinL:^ for, and inipe- 
 tratin<^ for us. They are holy and tlear to Ciod ; and they 
 love us with cliarity, renieml3erin<^^ us, and knowini,'', at 
 least in a j^enenil way, the danj^ers in which we live ; 
 they iniderstand also how greatly we need the help of 
 Ciod: why, then, should they not be able to pray for us, 
 even though in another way they are payinj^ to God their 
 debt of punishment ? For we also in this life arc debtors 
 to God, and yet we pray for others. . . . Besides, wc 
 may well believe that the Holy Angels make revelations 
 to the soids in Purgatory about their relatives or friends 
 still living on this earth. They will do this for the con- 
 solation of the Holy Souls, or that they may know what 
 to ask for us in particular cases, or that they may know 
 of our prayers for them. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 23 
 
 ST. CATHARINE OF GENOA ON PUROATORT. 
 
 This Hoi) Soul, while still in the flesh, was placed in 
 the purj^atory of the burning love of God, in whose 
 flames she wa§ purified from every stain, so that when 
 she passed from this life she might be ready to enter the 
 presence of God, her most sweet love. By means of that 
 flame of love she comprehended in her own soul the con- 
 dition of the souls of the faithful in Purgatory, where 
 they are purified from the rust and stain of sins, from 
 which they have not been cleansed in this world. And as 
 in the purgatory of that divine flame she was united with 
 the divine love and satisfied with all that was accom- 
 plished in her, she was enabled to comprehend the state 
 of the souls in Purgatory, and thus discoursed concern- 
 ing it : 
 
 " As far as I can see, the souls in Purgatory can have 
 no choice but be there ; this God has most justly or- 
 dained by His divine decree. They cannot turn towards 
 themselves and say, ' I have committed such and such 
 sins for which I deserve to remain here ; * nor can they 
 say, ' Would that I had refrained from them, for then I 
 should at this moment be in Paradise ; ' nor again, * This 
 soul will be released before me ; ' or, * I shall be released 
 before her.' They retain no memory of either good or 
 evil respecting themselves or others which would increase 
 their pain. They arc so contented with the divine inspi- 
 rations in their regard, and with doing all that is pleasing 
 to God in that way which he chooses, that they cannot 
 think of themselves, though they may strive to do so. 
 They see nothing but the operation of the divine good- 
 ness which is so manifestly bringing them to God that 
 they can reflect neither on their own profit nor on their 
 hurt. Could they do so, they would not be in pure 
 charity. They see not that they suffer their pains in con- 
 sequence of their sins, nor can they for a moment enter- 
 
24 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 -■ ? 
 
 tain that thought, for should they do so it would be an 
 active imperfection, and that cannot exist in a state where 
 there is no longer the possibility of sin. At the moment 
 of leaving this life, they see why they are sent to Purga- 
 tory, but never again ; otherwise they would still retain 
 something private, which has no place there. Being es- 
 tablished in charity, they can never deviate therefrom by 
 any defect, and have no will or desire save the pure will 
 of pure love, and can swerve from it in nothing. They 
 can neither commit sin nor merit by refraining from it. 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 "There is no peace to be compared with that of the 
 souls in Purgatory, save that of the saints in Paradise, 
 and this peace is ever augmented by the inflowing of God 
 into these souls, which increases in proportion as the im- 
 pediments to it are removed. The rust of sin is the im- 
 pediment, and this the fire continually consumes, so that 
 the soul in this state is continually opening itself to admit 
 the divine communication. As a covered surface can 
 never reflect the sun, not through any defect in that orb, 
 but simply from the resistance offered by the covering, 
 so, if the covering be gradually removed, the surface will 
 by little and little be opened to the sun and will more and 
 more reflect his light. 
 
 ** So it is with the rust of sin, which is the covering of 
 the soul. In Purgatory the flames incessantly consume 
 it, and as it disappears the soul reflects more and more 
 perfectly the true sun, who is God. Its contentment in- 
 creases as this rust wears away, and the soul is laid bare 
 to the divine ray ; and thus one increases and the other 
 decreases until the time is accomplished. The pain never 
 diminishes, although the time does ; but, as to the will, so 
 united is it to God by pure charity, and so satisfied to be 
 under His divine appointment, that these souls can never 
 say their pains are pains. 
 
 " On the other hand, it is true that they suffer torments 
 which no tongue can describe nor any intelligence com- 
 prehend, unless it be revealed by such a special grace as 
 
 81 
 It 
 
 si 
 ev 
 ca 
 
 will I 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 25 
 
 that which God has vouchsafed to me, but which I am 
 unable to explain. And this vision which God revealed 
 to me has never departed from my memory. I will de- 
 scribe it as far as I am able, and they whose intellects 
 our Lord will deign to open will understand me. 
 
 -X- 'A -/.- '/: % vV -X- 
 
 ** The source of all suffering is either original or actual 
 sin. God created the soul pure, simple, free from every 
 stain, and with a certain beatific instinct towards Himself. 
 It is drawn aside from Him by original sin, and when actual 
 sin is afterwards added this withdraws it still farther, and 
 ever, as it removes from Him, its sinfulness increases be- 
 cause its communication with God grows less and less. 
 -:^- -X- -» '^ -X- -:t vt 
 
 " Since the souls in Purgatory are freed from the guilt 
 of sin, there is no barrier between them and God save 
 only the pains they suffer, which delay the satisfaction of 
 their desire. And when they see how serious is even the 
 slightest hindrance, which the necessity of justice causes 
 to check them, a vehement flame kindles within them, 
 which is like that of hell. They feel no guilt, however, 
 and it is guilt which is the cause of the malignant will of 
 the condemned in hell, to whom God does not communi- 
 cate His goodness; and thus they remain in despair and 
 with a will forever opposed to the good-will of God. 
 * « * '.i -:;• vV * 
 
 " The souls in Purgatory are entirely conformed to the 
 will of God ; therefore, they correspond with His good- 
 ness, are contented with all that He ordains, and are en- 
 tirely purified from the guilt of their sins. They are pure 
 from sins because they have in this life abhorred them and 
 confessed them with true contrition ; and for this reason 
 God remits their guilt, so that only the stains of sin re- 
 main, and these must be devoured by the fire. Thus 
 freed from guilt and united to the will of God, they see 
 Him clearly according to that degree of light which He 
 allows them, and comprehend how great a good is the 
 fruition of God, for which all souls were created. Morc- 
 
 ti 
 
 II 
 

 26 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 over, these souls are in such close conformity to God and 
 are drawn so powerfully toward Him by reason of the 
 natural attraction between Him and the soul, that no 
 illustration or comparison could make this impetuosity 
 understood in the way in which my spirit conceives it by 
 its interior sense. Nevertheless, I will use one which 
 occurs to me. 
 
 " Let us suppose that in the whole world there were 
 but one loaf to appease the hunger of every creature, and 
 that the bare sight of it would satisfy them. Now man, 
 when in health, has by nature the instinct for food, but 
 if we can suppose him to abstain from it and neither die, 
 nor yet lose health and strength, his hunger would clearly 
 become increasingly urgent. In this case, if he knew that 
 nothing but this loaf would satisfy him, and that until he 
 reached it his hunger could not be appeased, he would 
 suffer intolerable pain, which would increase as his dis- 
 tance from the loaf diminished ; but if he were sure that he 
 would never see it, his hell would be as complete as that 
 of the damned soyls, who, hungering after God, have no 
 hope of ever seeing the bread of life. But the souls in 
 Purgatory have an assured hope of seeing Him and of 
 being entirely satisfied ; and therefore they endure all 
 hunger and suffer all pain until that moment when they 
 enter into eternal possession of this bread, which is Jesus 
 Christ, our Lord, our Saviour, and our Lov^e. 
 
 •?!• * -:f * -» -X- -;<- 
 
 " I will say, furthermore : I see that as far as God is 
 concerned. Paradise has no gates, but he who will may 
 enter. For God is all mercy, and His open arms are ever 
 extended to receive us into His glory. But I see that 
 the divine essence is so pure — purer than the imagination 
 can conceive — that the soul, finding in itself the slightest 
 imperfection, would rather cast itself into a thousand 
 hells than appear, so stained, in the presence of the divine 
 majest}'. Knowing, then, that Purgatory was intended 
 for her cleansing, she throws herself therein, and finds 
 there that great mercy, the removed of her stains. 
 
 »i 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 27 
 
 " The great importance of Purgatory, neither mind can 
 conceive nor tongue describe. I see only that its pains 
 are as great as those of hell ; and yet I see that a soul, 
 stained with the slightest fault, receiving this mercy, 
 counts the pains as nought in comparison with this hin- 
 drance to her love. And I know that the greatest misery 
 of the souls in Purgatory is to behold in themselves aught 
 that displeases God, and to discover that, in spite of His 
 goodness, they had consented to it. And this is because, 
 being in the state of grace, they sec the reality and the 
 importance of the impediments which hinder their ap- 
 proach to God. 
 
 -;<- -^ •» -K- * * ^i 
 
 " From that furnace of divine love I sec rays of 
 fire dart like burning lamps towards the soul ; and so 
 violent and powerful are they that both soul and body 
 would be utterly destroyed, if that were possible. These 
 rays perform a double office ; they purify and they an- 
 nihilate. 
 
 " Consider gold : the oftener it is melted the more pure 
 does it become ; continue to melt it and every imperfec- 
 tion is destroyed. This is the effect of fire on all ma- 
 terials. The soul, however, cannot be annihilated in 
 God, but in herself she can, and the longer her purifica- 
 tion lasts the more perfectly does she die to herself, until 
 at length she remains purified in God. 
 
 " When gold has been completely freed from dross, no 
 fire, however great, has any further action on it, for 
 nothing but its imperfections can be consumed. So it is 
 with the divine fire in the soul. God retains her in these 
 flames until every stain is burned awa}', and she is brought 
 to the highest perfection of which she is capable, each 
 soul in her own degree. And when this is accomplished, 
 she rests wholly in God. Nothing of herself remains, and 
 God is her entire being. When He has thus led her to 
 Himself and purified her, she is no longer passible, for 
 nothing remains to be consumed. If, when thus refined, 
 she should again approach the fire she would feel no pain, 
 
 
 I 
 
1 
 
 l< ! 
 
 28 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 for to her it has become the fire of divine love, which is 
 life eternal and which nothing mars." 
 
 * -X- vf % * * * 
 
 And thus this blessed Soul, illuminated by the divine 
 ray, said : " Would that I could utter so strong a cry that 
 it would strike all men with terror, and say to them : () 
 wretched beings ! why are you so blinded by this world 
 that you make, as you will find at the hour of death, 
 no provision for the great necessity that will then come 
 upon you ? 
 
 '* You shelter yourselves beneath the hope of the mercy 
 of God, which you unceasingly exalt, not seeing that it 
 is your resistance to His great goodness which will be 
 your condemnation. His goodness should constrain you 
 to His will, not encourage you to persevere in your own. 
 Since His justice is unfailing, it must needs be in some 
 way fully satisfied. 
 
 " Have not the boldness to say : ' I will go to confession 
 and gain a plenary indulgence, and thus I shall be saved ?' 
 Remember that the full confession and entire contrition 
 which are requisite to gain a plenary indulgence are not 
 easily attained. Did you know how hardly they are 
 come by, you would tremble with fear and be more sure 
 of losing than of gaining them." 
 
 r 
 
 : 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 anthil 
 prise 
 
 3, 
 
 siderl 
 not 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 \ 
 
 29 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM THE FATHERS.' 
 
 St. Cyprian ^ writes : ** Our predecessors prudently 
 advised that no brother, departing this life should nomi- 
 nate any churchman his executor ; and should he do it, 
 that no oblation should be made for him, nor sacrifice of- 
 fered for his repose ; of which we have had a late exam- 
 ple, when no oblation was made, nor prayer, in his name, 
 offered in the Church." ^ 
 
 Origen, who wrote in the same century as Cyprian, 
 and some two hundred years after Christ, speaks as fol- 
 lows, in language the most distinct, upon our doctrine of 
 Purgatory : *' When we depart this life, if we take with 
 us virtues or vices, shall we receive reward for our vir- 
 tues, and shall those trespasses be forgiven to us which 
 we knowingly committed ; or shall we be punished for 
 our faults, and not receive the reward of our virtues ? 
 Neither is true : because we shall suffer for our sins and 
 receive the reward of our virtues. For if on the founda- 
 tion of Christ you shall have built not only gold and sil- 
 ver and precious stones, but also wood and hay and stub- 
 ble, what do you expect when the soul shall be separated 
 from the body ? Would you enter into Heaven with your 
 wood, and hay, and stubble, to defile the Kingdom of 
 God ; or on account of those encumbrances remain with- 
 out, and receive no reward for your gold and silver and 
 precious stones ? Neither is this just. It remains, then, 
 that you be committed to the fire, which shall consume 
 
 * These extracts are purposely difierent from those quoted by the learned 
 author of " Purgatory Surveyed," in that portion of his treatise herein com- 
 prised. 
 
 - Ep., xlvi., p. 114. 
 
 ^Cardinal Wiseman commenting upon this passage, says : " It was con- 
 sidered, therefore, a severe punishment, that prayers and sacrifices should 
 not be offered up for those who had violated any of the ecclesiastical laws. 
 — Lectures on the Catholic Church. Lecture xi., p. 59. 
 
 
 ' ^ \ ! E 
 
 
 I. 
 
 \'* 
 
 •i ! 
 
 I i 
 
 
 . 4 
 
 
30 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 the light materials ; for our God, to those who can com- 
 prehend heavenly things, is called a consuming fire. But 
 this fire consumes not the creature, but what the creature 
 has himself built — wood, and hay, and stubble. It is 
 manifest that, in the first place, the fire destroys the wood 
 of our transgressions, and then returns to us the reward 
 of our good works." ' 
 
 St. Basil, or a contemporary author, thus writes, com- 
 menting on the words of Isaiah : " Through the wrath of 
 the Lord is the land burned ; the things which are earthly 
 are made the food of a punishing fire ; to the end, that 
 the soul may receive favor and be benefited." He con- 
 tinues : " And the people shall be as the fuel of the fire." 
 [Ibid.) This is not a threat of extermination ; but it de- 
 notes expurgation, ^ according to the expression of the 
 Apostles : " If any man's works burn, he shall suffer loss, 
 but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire." (i Cor. 
 iii. 15.)'^ 
 
 The following is from St. Ephrem, of Edessa : " My 
 brethren, come to me, and prepare me for my departure, 
 for my strength is wholly gone. Go along with me in 
 psalms and in your prayers ; and please constantly to 
 make oblations for me. When the thirtieth day ^ shall be 
 completed, then remember me : for the dead are helped 
 by the offerings of the living. If also the sons of Matha- 
 thias, who celebrated their feasts in figures onlv, could 
 cleanse those from guilt by their offerings wdio fell in bat- 
 
 
 <»% 
 
 ' Homil. xvi. al. xii. in Jcrem. T. iii., p. 231, 232. 
 
 * Cardinal Wiseman in commenting upon this passage, sa)-s : "Now, 
 mark well the word purgation here useil. For it proves that our very term 
 of Purgatory is not modern in the Church." — Lectures on the Catholic Church. 
 Lecture xi., p. Go. 
 
 ^Com. in C, ix. Isai. T. L, p. 554. 
 
 ^" The very day," says Cardinal Wiseman, "observed by the Catholic 
 Church v/ith peculiar solemnity, in praying and observing Mass for the 
 dead." Archbisiiop Corrigan, of New York, in announcing to the clergy 
 of his diocese the death of His Eminence the lat'! Cardinal McCloskey, 
 speaks as follows : " The reverend rectors are aP roquested to have solemn 
 services for the soul of our late beloved chief pastor, on the seventh and 
 thirtieth day." 
 
 1 
 
 f 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 31 
 
 " ■ 
 
 tic, how much more shall the priests of Ciirlst aid the 
 dead by their oblations and j^rayers? " ' 
 
 Thus speaks St. Gregory of Nyssa: "In the i)rcs- 
 cnt life, God allows man to remain subject to what him- 
 self has chosen ; that, having tasted of the evil which he 
 desired, and learned by experience how bad an exchange 
 has been made, he might feel an ardent wish to lay down 
 the load of those vices and inclinations, which arc con- 
 trary to reason; and thus, in this life, being renovated by 
 prayers and the pursuit of wisdom, or, in the next, being 
 expiated by the purging fire, he might recover the state 
 of happiness which he had lost. . . . When he has 
 quitted his body, and the difference between virtue and 
 vice is knovv^n, he cannot be admitted to approach the 
 Divinity till the purging fire shall have expiated the 
 stains with which his soul was infected. The same fire, 
 in others, will cancel the corruption of matter and the 
 propensity to evil."^ 
 
 St. Cyrii< of Jerusalem : " Then " (in the Liturgy of the 
 Church) *' we pray for the holy Fathers and Bishops that 
 are dead ; and, in short, for all those who are dej)arted 
 this life in our communion ; believing that the souls of 
 those, for whom the prayers are offered, receive very 
 great relief while this holy and tremendous victim lies 
 upon the altar." •' 
 
 St. Epiphanius writes : '' There is nothing more op- 
 portune, nothing more to be admired, than the rite 
 which directs the names of the dead to be mentioned. 
 They are aided by the prayer that is offered for them, 
 though it may not cancel all their faults. We mention 
 both the just and sinners, in order that for the latter we 
 may obtain mercy." * 
 
 St. Augustine speaks as follows : " The prayers of 
 the Church, or of good persons, are heard in favor of 
 
 m 
 
 i ': 
 
 ' In Testament. T. ii., p. 334. p. 371, Edit. Oxen. 
 ^ Orat. de Defunctis. T. ii., p. 1066, 1067, 1068. 
 2 Catech. Mystag., V. N., ix., x., p. 328. 
 4 Ilaer. IV. Lib. LXXV., T. i., p. 911. 
 
M 
 
 1 1 
 
 32 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 those Christians who departed this life not so bad as to be 
 deemed unworthy of mercy, nor so good as to be entitled 
 to immediate happiness. So also, at the resurrection of 
 the dead, there will some be found, to whom mercy will 
 be imparted, having gone through these pains, to which 
 the spirits of the dead arc liable. Otherwise it would 
 not have been said of some with truth, that their sin 
 shall not be forgiven, neither in this world nor in the world 
 to come (Matt, xii., 32) unless some sins were remitted in 
 the next world." ^ 
 
 In another passage he comments on the words of St. 
 Paul : " If they had built £-oM and si'h'rr and prcciotis 
 stones, they would be secure from both fires ; not only 
 from that in which the wicked shall be punished for ever, 
 but likewise from that fire which will purify those who 
 shall be saved by fire. But because it is said Jie shall be 
 saved, that fire is thought lightly of; though the suffering 
 will be more grievous than anything man can undergo in 
 this life." 
 
 Let us hear St. Jerome : ^ "As we believe the torments 
 of the devil, and of those wicked men who said in their 
 hearts there is no God, to be eternal, so, in regard to those 
 sinners who have not denied their faith, and whose works 
 will be proved and purged by fire, we conclude that the 
 sentence of the Judge will be tempered by mercy." 
 
 St. Jerome thus speaks in his letter to Paula, concern- 
 ing the death and burial of her mother, Eustochium : 
 *' From henceforward there were no wailings nor lamen- 
 tations as arc usual amongst men of this world, but the 
 swarms of those present resounded with psalms in vari- 
 ous tongues. And being removed by the hands of the 
 bishops, and by those placing their shoulders under the 
 bier, while other pontiffs were carrying lamps and wax 
 tapers, and others led the choirs of psalmodists, she was 
 laid in the middle of the church of the cave of the 
 Saviour Psalms resounded in the Hebrew, 
 
 ' Dc Civit. Dei., Lib, XXL, c. xxiv., p. 492. 
 * Comment, in c. Ixv., Isai., T. ii., p. 492. 
 
\ • 
 
 DvOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 33 
 
 I. 
 
 Greek, Latin, and Syriac tongues, not only during the 
 three days intervening until she was laid under the 
 church and near the cave of the Lord, but through the 
 entire week." 
 
 St. Ambrose has many passages throughout his 
 works, as Dr. Wiseman remarks. Thus he quotes St. 
 Paul's First Epistle to the Corinthians (iii., 5): " * If any 
 man's works burn he shall suffer loss ; but he shall be 
 saved, yet so as by fire.' He will be saved, the Apostle 
 said, because his substance shall remain, while his bad 
 doctrine shall perish. Therefore, he said, yet so as by 
 fire, in order that his salvation be not understood to be 
 without pain. He shows that he shall be saved indeed, 
 but he shall undergo the pain of fire, and be thus puri- 
 fied, not like the unbelieving and wicked man who shall 
 be punished in everlasting fire.^ " 
 
 The following is from his funeral oration on the Em- 
 peror Theodosius : " Lately we deplored together his 
 death, and now, while Prince Honorius is present before 
 our altars, we celebrate the fortieth day. Some observe 
 the third and the thirtieth, others the seventh and the 
 fortieth. Give, O Lord, rest to Thy servant Theodosius, 
 that rest which Thou hast prepared for Thy Saints. May 
 his soui thither tend, whence it came, where it cannot 
 feel the sting of death, where it will learn that death is the 
 termination, not of nature, but of sin. I loved him, there- 
 fore will I follow him to the land of the living ; I will not 
 leave him, till, by my prayers and lamentation, he shall 
 be admitted to the holy mount of the Lord to which his 
 deserts call him." ^ 
 
 He thus concludes his letter to St. Faustinus on the 
 death of his sister : " Therefore I consider her not so 
 much to be deplored as to be followed by our prayers, 
 nor do I think that her soul should be saddened with 
 tears, but rather commended to the Lord in oblations. 
 For our flesh cannot be perpetual or lasting; it must 
 
 * Comment, in i Ep. ad Cor., T. ii.; in App.p. 122. 
 "^ De obitu. Theodosii. Ibid., pp. 1 197-8 ; 1207-8. 
 
 i 
 
 i--^ 
 
 t 
 
 
 
 I 
 
 ! 1! 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
34 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 1 1 
 
 necessarily fall in order that it may rise af^-ain — it must 
 be dissolved in order that it may rest, and that there may 
 be some end of sin." ^ 
 
 In liis funeral oration upon his brother Satyrus, he cries 
 out : " To* Thee now, () omnipotent God, I commend this 
 innocent soul, — to Thee I offer my victim. Accept j^ra- 
 ciously and serenely the gift of the brother — the sacrihcc 
 of the priest." - 
 
 In his discourse on the deceased Emperor Valentinian 
 the Younger, murdered in 392 : " Give the holy mysteries 
 to the dead. Let us, with pious earnestness, beg repose 
 for his soul. Lift up your hands with me, O people, that 
 at least by this duty we may make some return for his 
 benefits."^ Joining him with the Emperor Gratian, his 
 brother, dead some years before, he says: " Both blessed, 
 if my prayers can be of any force ! No duty shall pass 
 over you in silence. No prayer of mire shall ever be 
 closed without remembering you. No liight shall pass 
 you over without some vows of my supplications. You 
 shall have a share in all my sacrifices. If I forget you 
 let my own right hand be forgotten." ^ 
 
 " It was not in vain," says St. Chrysostom, ** that the 
 apostles ordained a commemoration of the deceased in 
 the holy and tremendous mysteries. They were sensible 
 of the benefit and advantage which accrues to them from 
 this practice. For, when the congregation stands with 
 open arms as well as the priests, and the tremendous 
 sacrifice is before them, how should our prayers for them 
 not appease God ? But this is said of such as have de- 
 parted in faith." ^ 
 
 St. Augustine again says : " Nor is it to be denied 
 that the souls of the departed are relieved by the piety 
 of their living friends, when the sacrifice of the Mediator 
 
 * St. Ambr., cp. 39, ad Fauslini, t. 2, p. 944, cd. Ben. 
 
 2 De excessu frateris satyri, No. 80, p. 1135. 
 
 3 St. Ambr. de obitu Valent, No. 56, t. 2, p. 11S9, ed. Bened. 
 
 * Ibid., No. 78, p. 1 194. 
 
 '' Horn. 3 in Phil , t. ii., p. 217 cd. Montfauc. 
 
 I 
 
DOCTRINAL < N'D PKVOTIONAL. 
 
 m 
 
 is oflcrcd lor them, or alms arc givC'iin thcChurcli. Tlrrt 
 these thinjj^s arc ])roritablc i > those \ ho, wliih' tiicy livcti, 
 deserved that they mis^ht avail theiii. Th< is a ! so 
 f^ood as not to require them, and tlicrc s anot' r so 
 wicked that alter death it can receive ii- belieti, from 
 them. When, therefore, the sacrifices of the nltnr (»r alms 
 arc offered for all Christians, for the very i^ood tliey arc 
 thanksgiving's, they are propitiations for those who arc 
 not very bad. For the very wicked, they are some kind 
 of comfort to the living." 
 
 In another of his works he says that prayer for the 
 dead in the holy mysteries was observed by the whole 
 church. He expounds the thirty-seventh Psalm as having 
 reference to Purgatory. The words: "Rebuke mc not 
 in thy fury, neither chastise me in thy wrath," he explains 
 as follows: "That you purify mc in this life, and render 
 mc such that I may not stand in need of tiiat purging 
 fire." 
 
 Arnobius speaks of the public liturgies: "In which 
 peace and pardon arc begged of God for kings, magis- 
 trates, friends and enemies, both the living and those who 
 are delivered from the body." 
 
 To these few extracts, which space permits, might be 
 added innumerable others from St. Clement of Alexan- 
 dria, St. Athanasius, St. l^aulinus, St. Euscbius, Lactan- 
 tius, TcrtuUian, St. Cccsarius of Aries, wSt. Bernard, Ven- 
 erable Bede, St. Thomas Aquinas, and so on down to our 
 own immediate time. Their testimony is most clear not 
 only as regards the custom of praying for the dead, but 
 the actual doctrine of Purgatory, as it is now understood 
 in the Church. They are, in fact, in many cases most 
 explicit upon this point, obviously referring to a middle 
 state of suffering and expiation, and thus refuting by 
 anticipation the objections of those who claim that the 
 primitive Christians prayed indeed for the dead, but 
 knew nothing of Purgatory: a contradiction, it would 
 seem, as prayer for the dead, to be available, supposes a 
 place or state of probation. But, even where the mcn- 
 
 ■tm 
 
 : J 
 
 'I M 
 
 I 
 
 ,11 
 
36 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 tion made by tlic Fathers of prayer for the dead docs not 
 refer expressly to a place of purgation, it is no more a 
 proof that they did not hold this doctrine than that those 
 modern Catholic authors disbelieve in it, who suppose 
 this middle state of suffcrinj^ to be admitted by their 
 readers. Or even, which rarely happens, if they be silent 
 altogether upon the subject, it no more inters tiieir igno- 
 rance of such a belief than the same silence to be noted 
 in theological and religious works of our own day. It 
 proves no more than that they are at the time engaged in 
 treating of some other subject. The following, which 
 may serve as a conclusion to these extracts, is the solemn 
 decision of the Council of Trent in regard to this doc- 
 trine: "The Church, inspired by the Holy Ghost, has 
 always taught, according to the Holy Scriptures and 
 apostolic tradition, that there is a Purgatory, and that the 
 souls there detained receive comfort from the prayers 
 and good works of tlie faithful, particularly through the 
 sacrihcc of the Mass, which is so acceptable to God." 
 
 In the thirteenth Canon of the sixth session, it decrees 
 that, " if any one should say that a repentant sinner, after 
 having received the grace of justification, the punishment 
 of eternal pains being remitted, has no temporary punish- 
 ment to be suffered either in this life or in the next in Pur- 
 gatory, before he can enter into the Kingdom of God, let 
 him be anathema." 
 
 In the third Canon of the twenty-fourth session, it de- 
 fines " that the sacrifice of the Mass is propitiatory both 
 for the living and the dead for sins, punishments and 
 satisfactions." 
 
 T 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 37 
 
 VERSES FROM THE IMITATION. 
 
 TII«)MAS A KKMPIS. 
 
 Trust not in thy friends and ncijj^libors, and put not ofl 
 tliy soul's welfare till t he future ; for men will forget thee 
 sooner than thou thinkcst. 
 
 It is better to provide now in time and send some j^ood 
 before thee than to trust to the assistance of others after 
 deatli. 
 
 If thou art not solicitous for thyself now, who will be 
 solicitous for thee hereafter. 
 
 Did'st thou also well ponder in thy heart the future 
 pains of hell or Puri^atory, methinks thou would'st bear 
 willingly labor and sorrow and fear no kind of austerity. 
 
 Who will remember thee when thou art dead ? and who 
 will pray for thee ? 
 
 Now thy labor is profitable, thy tears arc acceptable, 
 thy groans are heard, thy sorrow is satisfying and puri- 
 fieth the soul. 
 
 The patient man hath a great and wholesome purgatory. 
 
 Better is it to purge away our sins, and cut off our 
 vices now, than to keep them for purgation hereafter. 
 
 If thou shalt say thou arc not able to suffer much, how 
 then wilt thou endure the fire of Purgatory. (Jf two 
 evils, one ought always to choose the less. 
 
 When a Priest cclebrateth, he honoreth God, he rc- 
 joiceth the Angels, he edifieth the Church, he helpeth the 
 living, he obtaincth rest for the departed, and makcth 
 himself partaker of all good things. 
 
 I offer to Thee also all the pious desires of devout per- 
 sons; the necessities of my parents, friends, brothers, 
 
 sisters, and all those that arc dear to me ; and all 
 
 who have desired and besought me to offer up prayers 
 and Masses for themselves and all theirs, whether they 
 are still living in the flesh or are already dead to this 
 world. 
 
 'i M 
 
38 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I? i 
 
 ST. AUGUSTINE AND HIS MOTHER, ST. MONICA. 
 
 [In the beautiful account given by the great St. Augustine of the last 
 illness and death of his holy mother, St. Monica, we find some touching 
 proofs of the pious belief of mother and son in the existence of a middle 
 state for souls in the after life. Tlie holy doctor had been relating that 
 memorable conversation on heavenly things which took place between his 
 mother and himself on that moonlight night at the window in the inn at 
 Ostia, immortalized by Ary SchoefTer in his beautiful picture.] 
 
 To this what answer I made her I do not well remem- 
 ber. But scarce five days, or not many more, had 
 passed after this before she fell into a fever: and one day, 
 being very sick, she swooned away, and was for a little 
 while insensible. We ran in, but she soon came to her- 
 self again, and looking upon me and my brother (Navi- 
 gius), that were standing by her, said to us like one 
 inquiring: "Where have I been?" then, beholding us 
 struck with grief, she said : " Here you shall bury your 
 mother." I held my peace and refrained weeping ; but 
 my brother said something by vv^hich he signified his 
 wish, as of a thing more happy, that she might not die 
 abroad but in her own country ; which she hearing, with 
 a concern in her countenance, and chcckin" him with her 
 eyes that he should have such notions, then looking upon 
 me, said : " Do you hear what he says ? " then to us both : 
 " Lay this body anywhere ; be not concerned about that ; 
 only this I beg of you, that wheresoever you be, you 
 make remembrance of me at the Lord's altar." And 
 when she had expressed to us this, her mind, with such 
 words as she could, she said no more, but lay struggling 
 with her disease that grew stronger upon her. 
 
 v5- -2fr i|t ■/: * •::• -X- 
 
 And now behold the body is carried out to be buried, 
 and I both go and return without tears. Neither in those 
 prayers, which we poured forth to Thee when the sacri- 
 fice of our ransom was offered to Thee for her, the body 
 being set down by the grave before the interment of it. 
 
 i 
 
s« 
 
 *s-s«j 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 39 
 
 as custom is there, neither in those prayers, I say, did I 
 shed any tears. 
 
 * -vv * ^v % -X- ^K 
 
 And now, my heart being healed of that wound in 
 which a carnal affection might have some share, I pour 
 out to Thee, our God, in behalf of that servant of Thine, 
 a far different sort of tears, flowing from a spirit frighted 
 with the consideration of the perils of every soul that 
 dies in Adam. For, although she, being revived in 
 Christ, even before her being set loose from the flesh and 
 lived in such manner, as that Thy name is much praised 
 in her faith and manners ; yet I dare not say that from 
 the time Thou didst regenerate her by baptism, no word 
 
 came out of her mouth against Thy command 
 
 I, therefore, () my Praise and my Life, the God of my 
 heart, setting for a while aside her good deeds, for which 
 with joy I give Thee thanks, entreat Thee at present for 
 the sins of my mother. Hear me, I beseech Thee, 
 through that Cure of our wounds that hung upon the 
 tree, and that, sitting now at Thy right hand, makcth in- 
 tercession to Thee for us. I know that she did mercifully, 
 and from her heart forgive to her debtors their tres- 
 passes : do Thou likewise forgive her her debts, if she 
 hath also contracted some in those many years she lived 
 after the saving water. . . . And I believe Thou hast 
 already done what I ask, but these free offerings of my 
 mouth approve, O Lord. 
 
 For she, when the day of her dissolution was at hand, 
 had no thought for the sumptuous covering of her body, 
 or the embalming of it, nor had she any desire of a line 
 monument, nor was S(jlicitous about her sepulchre in her 
 own country : none of these things did she recommend 
 to us ; but only desired that wc should make a remem- 
 brance of her at Thy altar, at which she had constantly 
 attended without one day's intermission, from whence 
 she knew was dispensed that Holy Victim by which was 
 cancelled that handwriting that was against us (Coloss. 
 11.), by which that enemy was triumphed over who 
 
 4h. 
 
f 
 
 -iHS »»- ,, irH ' M M»I B i 
 
 40 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 reckoncth up our sins and secketh what he may lay to 
 our charge, but findeth nothing in Him through whom 
 we conquer. Who shall refund to Him that innocent 
 blood He shed for us? Who shall repay Him the price 
 with which He bought us, that so lie may take us away 
 from Him ? To the sacrament of which price of our 
 redemption Thy handmaid bound fast her soul by the 
 bond of faith. . . . 
 
 Let her, therefore, rest in peace, together with her 
 husband, before whom and after whom she was known to 
 no man ; whom she dutifully served, bringing forth fruit 
 to Thee, in much patience, that she might also gain him 
 to Thee. And do Thou inspire, O Lord, my God, do 
 Thou inspire Thy servants, my brethren, Thy children, 
 my masters, whom I serve with my voice, and my heart, 
 and my writings, that as many as shall read this shall 
 remember, at Thy altar. Thy handmaid Monica with 
 Patricius, formerly her husband. Let them remember, 
 with a pious affection, these who were my parents in this 
 transitory life, my brethren under Thee, our Father, in 
 our Catholic Mother, and my fellow-citizens in the 
 eternal Jerusalem, for which the pilgrimage of Thy 
 people here below continually sigheth from their setting 
 out till their return. That so what my mother made her 
 last request to me may be more plentifully performed for 
 her by the prayers of many, procured by these, my con- 
 fessions, and my prayers.' 
 
 ' Conf. B. IX. Chs. XL— XIII. 
 
 
U'StMt^im-J^^al»i^s:i^:iaat&tliMd-^-s^ 
 
 i>i4il6ii^#'^'^;T^'^?y*"; 
 
 S^ 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 41 
 
 I 
 
 ST. GERTRUDE AND THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 [In the " Life and Revelations of St. Gertrude" we find many instances 
 of the efficacy of prayers for the dead and how plcasini*- to (lod is devotion 
 to the souls in Purgatory. From these we select the following :J 
 
 Our Blessed Lord once said to the Saint : " If a soul is 
 delivered b}^ prayer from Purgatory I accept it as if I had 
 myself been delivered from captivity, and I will assuredly 
 reward it according to the abundance of my merc3^" 
 The religious also behv^id many souls meeting before her 
 to testify their gratitude for their deliverance from Pur- 
 gatory, through the prayers which had been offered for 
 her, and which she had not needed. 
 
 * '/: -.i -s- -A -;<- -X- 
 
 As St. Gertrude prayed fervently before matins on 
 the blessed night of the Resurrection, the Lord Jesus 
 appeared to her full of majesty and glory. Then she cast 
 herself at His feet, to adore Him devoutly and humbly, 
 saying: "O gh^rious Spouse, joy of the angels, Thou 
 who hast shown me the favor of choosing me to be Thy 
 spouse, who am the least of Thy creatures ! I ardently 
 desire Thy glory, and my only friends are those who love 
 Thee ; therefore I beseech Thee to pardon the souls of 
 Thy special friends ' by the virtue of Thy most glorious 
 Resurrection. And to obtain this grace from Thy good- 
 ness, I offer Thee, in union with Thy Passion, all the suf- 
 ferings which my continual infirmities have caused me." 
 Then Our Lord, having favored her with many caresses, 
 showed her a great multitude of souls who were freed 
 from their pains, saying : " Behold, I Have given them to 
 you as a recompense for your rare affection ; and through 
 all eternity they will acknowledge that they have been 
 delivered by your prayers, and you will be honored and 
 glorified for it." She replied: *' How many are they ? " 
 He answered: " This knowledi^fe belono^s to God alone." 
 
 
 I 
 
 
 If 
 
 * " This seems to refer," says th.- author of the Saint's life, " to the souls 
 in Purgatory," 
 
42 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 As she feared that these souls, though freed from their 
 pains, were not yet admitted to glory, she offered to en- 
 dure whatever God might please, either in body or soul, 
 to obtain their entrance into that beatitude; and Our 
 Lord, won by her fervor, granted her request immediately. 
 wSornc time after, as the wSaint suffered most acute pain 
 in her side, she made an inclination before a crucifix ; 
 and ^^ur Lorfl freed her from the pain, and granted the 
 merit of it to these souls, recommending them to make 
 her a return by their prayers. 
 
 ******* 
 
 On Wednesday, at the elevation of the Host, she be- 
 sought Our Lord for the souls of the faithful in Purgatory, 
 that He would free them from their pains by virtue of His 
 admirable Ascension ; and she beheld Our Lord descend- 
 ing into Purgatory with a golden rod in His hand, which 
 had as many hooks as there had been prayers for their 
 souls ; by these He appeared to draw them into a place 
 of repose. She understood by this, that whenever any 
 one prays generally, from a motive of charity, for the 
 souls in Purgatory, the greater part of those who, during 
 their lives, have exercised themselves in works of charity, 
 arc released. 
 
 On another occasion, as she remarked that she had 
 offered all her merits for the dead, she said to Our Lord : 
 ** I hope, O Lord, that Thou wilt frequently cast the eyes 
 of Thy mercy on my indigence." Ho replied : *' What 
 can I do more for one who has thus deprived herself of 
 all things through charity, than to cover her immediately 
 with charity ? " She answered : " Whatever Thou mayest 
 do, I shall always appear before Thee destitute of all 
 merit, for I have renounced all I have gained or may 
 gain." He replied : ** Do you not know that a mother 
 would allow a child who was well clothed to sit at her 
 feet, but she would take one who was barely clad into her 
 arms, and cover her with her own garment ? " He added : 
 *'And now, what advantages have you, who are seated 
 
I 
 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 43 
 
 on the shore of an ocean, over those wlio sit by a little 
 rivulet?" That is to say, those who keep their good 
 works for themselves, have the rivulet ; but those who 
 renounce them in love and humility, possess God, who is 
 an inexhaustible ocean of beatitude. 
 
 •::• ■-/: ■!•^ -x- * * * 
 
 On one occasion, while Mass was being celebrated for 
 a poor woman who had died lately, St. Gertrude recited 
 five Pater Nostcrs, in honor of Our Lord's five wounds, 
 for the repose of her soul ; and, moved by divine inspi- 
 ration, she offered all her good works for the increase ol 
 the beatitude of this person. When she had made this 
 offering, she immediately beheld the soul in heaven, in 
 the place destined for her; and the throne prepared for 
 her was elevated as far above the place where she liad 
 been, as the highest throne of the seraphim is above that 
 of the lowest angel. The Saint then asked Our Lord 
 how this sold had been worthy to obtain such advantage 
 from her prayers, and He replied : 
 
 " She has merited this grace in three ways : first, be- 
 cause she always had a sincere will and perfect desire of 
 serving Me in religion, if it had been possible; secondl}', 
 because she especially loved all religious and all good 
 people ; thirdly, because she was always ready to lionor 
 Me by performing any service she could for them." lie 
 added : " You may judge, by the sublime rank to which 
 she is elevated, how agreeable these practices arc to Me." 
 
 A certain religious died who had always been accus- 
 tomed to pray very fervently for the souls of the faithful 
 departed ; but she had failed in the perfection of obe- 
 dience, preferring her own will to that of her superior in 
 her fasts and vigils. After her decease she appeared 
 adorned with rich ornaments, but so weighed down by a 
 heavy burden, which she was obliged to carry, that she 
 could not approach to God, though many persons were 
 endeavoring to lead her to Him. 
 
 As Gertrude marvelled at this vision, she was taught 
 that the persons who endeavored to conduct the soul to 
 
 \ 7i| 
 
I 
 
 f 
 
 44 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 God were those whom she had released by her prayers ; 
 but this heavy burden indicated the faults she had com- 
 mitted against obedience. Then Our Lord said : " Behold 
 how those grateful souls endeavor to free her from the 
 requirements of My justice, and show these ornaments ; 
 nevertheless, she must suffer for her faults of disobedience 
 and vSelf-will." ... 
 
 Then the Saint beheld her ornament, which appeared 
 like a vessel of boiling water containing a hard stone, 
 which must be completely dissolved therein before she 
 could obtain relief from this torment ; but in these suffer- 
 ings she was much consoled and assisted by those souls, 
 and by the prayers of the faithful. After this Our Lord 
 showed St. Gertrude the path by which the souls ascend 
 to heaAcn. It resembled a straight plank, a little in- 
 clined ; so that those who ascended did so with difficulty. 
 They were assisted and supported by hands on either 
 side, which indicated the prayers offered for them. 
 
 :i! V- Vc %i % ^c ^ 
 
 One day St. Gertrude asked Our Lord how many souls 
 were delivered from Purgatory by her prayers and those 
 of her sisters. " The number," replied Our Lord, " is pro- 
 portioned to the zeal and fervor of those who pray for 
 them." He added : " My love urges me to release a great 
 number of souls for the prayers of each religious, and at 
 each verse of the psalms which they recite, I release many." 
 
 vV * * % % * ->!: 
 
 When Mass was offered for the deceased Brother Her- 
 mann, his soul appeared to St. Gertrude all radiant with 
 light, and transported with joy. Then Gertrude said to 
 Our Lord : ** Is this soul now entirely freed from its suf- 
 ferings ? " Our Lord answered : " He is already free 
 from much suffering, and no human being can form an 
 idea of his glory ; but he is not yet so perfectly purified 
 as to be worthy to enjoy My presence, though he is ap- 
 proaching nearer and nearer to this purity by the prayers 
 which are offered for him, and is more and more consoled 
 and relieved." 
 
 I' 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 45 
 
 ST. JOSEPH'S INTERCESSION FOR THE FAITHFUL 
 
 DEPARTED. 
 
 {From " Lc Propagatetir dc la Devotion a Saint Joseph'') 
 
 St. Francis de Sales says: ** Wc do not often enough 
 remember our dead, our faithful departed." Thus the 
 Church, Uke a good »"ncther, recalls to us the thought of 
 the dead when we have forgotten them, and therefore she 
 consecrates the m(jnth of November to the memory of 
 the dead. This pious and salutary practice of praying 
 for an entire month for the dead takes its rise from the 
 earliest ages of the Church. The custom of mourning 
 tJiirty days for the dead existed amongst the Jews. The 
 practice of saying thirty Masses on thirty consecutive 
 days was established by St. Gregory, and Innocent XL 
 enriched it with indulgences. " God has made known to 
 me," says the venerable sister Marie Denise dc Martignat, 
 " that a devotion to the death of St. Joseph obtains many 
 graces for those who are agonizing, and that, as St. Jo- 
 seph did not at once pass into heaven — because Jesus 
 Christ had not opened its gates — but descended into 
 Limbo, it is a most useful devotion for the agonizing, and 
 for the souls in Purgatory, to offer to God the resigna- 
 tion of St. Joseph when he was dying and about to leave 
 Jesus and Mary in this world, and to honor the holy pa- 
 tience of this great Saint waiting calmly in Limbo until 
 Easter-day, when Jesus Christ, risen and glorious, released 
 him." And if St. Joseph consoles the souls in Purgatory, 
 none will be so dear to him as those who were devout to 
 him in life, and zealous in spreading a devotion to him. 
 
 ril 
 
 1 ^1 
 
 I 
 
 > * 
 
 'i 
 
 ^ 
 
 'f'^M^^^> 
 
46 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 ST. FRANCIS DE SALES ON PURGATORY.' 
 
 The opinion of St. Francis dc Sales was that from the 
 thought of Purj^atory we should draw more consolation 
 than pain. The greater number of those, he said, who 
 fear I'urgatory so mucli, do so in consideration of their 
 own interests and of the love they bear themselves ratlier 
 than the interests of God ; and this happens because those 
 who treat of this place from the pulpit usually speak of 
 its pains and are silent in regard to the happiness and 
 peace which are found in it 
 
 When any of his friends or acquaintances died, he never 
 grew weary of speaking fondly of them and recommend- 
 ing them to the prayers of others. 
 
 His usual expression was : " We do not sufficiently re- 
 member our dead, our faithful departed ;" and the proof 
 of it is that we do not speak enough of them. We turn 
 away from that discourse as from a sad subject. We 
 leave the dead to bury their dead. Their memory per- 
 ishes from us with the sound of their funeral-bell. We 
 forget that the friendship which ends even with death, is 
 never true. Holy Scripture assuring us that true love is 
 stronsfer than death. 
 
 He was accustomed to say that in this single w(^rk of 
 mercy the thirteen others are assembled. 
 
 Is it not, he said, in some manner, to visit the sick, to 
 obtain by our prayers the relief of the poor suffering souls 
 in Purgatory ? 
 
 Is it not to give drink to those who thirst after the vis- 
 ion of God, and who are enveloped in burning flames, to 
 share with them the dew of our prayers? 
 
 Is it not to feed the hungry, to aid in their deliverance 
 b}^ the means which faith suggests ? 
 
 ' Consoling Thoughts of St. Francis de Sales. Arranged by Rev. Father 
 Hiiguet. Pp. 336-7- 
 
 "K' 
 
 a i 
 
 th( 
 th( 
 G(j 
 
 to 
 
 coi 
 wa 
 cnc 
 grc 
 cor 
 to 
 
 'Ml 
 
1i 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 47 
 
 Is it not truly to ransom prisoners? 
 
 Is it not truly to clothe the naked, to pr. )cure for them 
 a g-arment of light, a raiment of glory ? 
 
 Is it not an admirable degree of hospitality, to procure 
 their admission into the heavenly Jerusalem, and to make 
 them fellow-citizens with the Saints and domestics of 
 God ? 
 
 Is it not a greater service to place souls in heaven than 
 to bury bodies in the earth ? 
 
 As to spirituals, is it not a work whose merit may be 
 compared to that of counselling the weak, correcting the 
 wayward, instructing the igncjrant, forgiving offenses, 
 enduring injuries? And what consolation, however 
 great, that can be given to the afflicted of this world, is 
 comparable with that which is brought by our prayers 
 to those poor souls which have such bitter need of them ? 
 
 ^% 
 
 -i 
 
 ■^f 
 
 m 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 m 
 
48 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 CARDINAL GIBBONS ON PURGATORY. 
 
 r^ 
 
 The Catholic Church teaches that, besides a place of 
 eternal torments lor the wicked and of cverlastini^ rest 
 for the righteous, there exists in the next life a middle 
 state of temporary punishment, allotted for those who 
 have died in venial sin, or who have not satisfied the jus- 
 tice of God for sins already forgiven. She also teaches 
 us that, although the souls consigned to this intermediate 
 state, commonly called Purgatory, cannot help them- 
 selves, they may be aided by the suffrages of the faithful 
 on earth. The existence of Purgatory naturally implies 
 the correlative df)gma — the utility of praying for the 
 dead ; for the souls consigned to this middle state have 
 not reached the term of their journey. They are still 
 exiles from heaven, and are fit subjects for divine 
 clemency. 
 
 Is it not strange that this cherished doctrine should be 
 called in question by the levelling innovators of the six- 
 teenth century, when we consider that it is clearly taught 
 in the Old Testament ; that it is, at least, insinuated in the 
 New Testament ; that it is unanimously proclaimed by 
 the Fathers of the Church ; that it is embodied in all the 
 ancient liturgies of the Oriental and Western Church; and 
 that it is alike consonant with our reason and eminently 
 consoling to the human heart ? 
 
 •!t v.- i^ -vv * •» -x- 
 
 You now perceive that this devotion is not an inven- 
 tion of modern times, but a doctrine universally enforced 
 in the best and purest ages of the Church. 
 
 You see that praying for the dead was not a devotion 
 cauciously recommended by some obscure or visionary 
 writer, but an act of religion preached and inculcated 
 by all the great Doctors and Fathers of the Church, who 
 are the recognized expounders of the Christian religion. 
 
 You see them, too, inculcating this doctrine not as a 
 
ra 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAI-. 
 
 49 
 
 cold and abstract i)riiici])lc, but as an inij)crativc act of 
 daily piety, and embodying it in their ordinary exercises 
 of devotion. 
 
 They j)rayed for tlic dead in tlieir mornini^ and evening 
 devotions. They prayed for them in their (hiily office, 
 and in tlic sacrifice of the Mass. They asked the prayers 
 of the congregation for the souls of the deceased, in the 
 I)ublic services of Sunda)-. And on the nionumcntr. which 
 were erected to the dead, some of which are preserved 
 even to this day, ei)itaphs were inscribed, earnestlv in- 
 voking for their souls tlie i)raycrs of the living. ITov/ 
 gratifying it is to our Catholic hearts, that a devotion so 
 soothing to afllicted spirits is, at the same time, so hrmly 
 grounded on the tradition of ages. 
 
 That the practice of praying for the dead has descended 
 from apostolic times is also evident from the Liinri^ics of 
 the Church. A Liturgy is the established form of public 
 worship, containing the authorized prayers of the Church. 
 1 he Missal, or Mass-book, for instance, which you see 
 on our altars, contains a portion of the Liturgy of the 
 Catholic Church. The principal Liturgies are: The 
 Liturgy of St. James the Apostle, who founded the 
 Church of Jerusalem ; the Liturgy of St. Mark the Evan- 
 gelist, founder of the Church of Alexandria, and the 
 Liturgy of .St. Peter, who established the Church in 
 Rome. These Liturgies are called after the Apostles 
 who compiled them. There are, besides, the Liturgies 
 of St. Chrysostom and St. Basil, which arc chiefly based 
 on that of St. James. 
 
 Now, all these Liturgies, without an exception, have 
 prayers for the dead, and their provideF|tial preservation 
 serves as another triumphant vindication of the venerable 
 antiquity of this Catholic doctrine. 
 
 The Eastern and the Western churches were happily 
 united until the fourth and fifth centuries, when the here- 
 siarchs Arius, Nestorius and Eutyches withdrew millions 
 of souls from the centre of unity. The followers of these 
 sects were called, after their founders, Arians, Nestorians, 
 
 * '1 
 
 - >'ii 
 
 1 Ui 
 
 111 
 
 I 
 
50 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 and Eiiiycliians, and from that da}' to tlic present tlic two 
 latter bodies liave Ibrtned distiiiet coiiunuiiions, being sepa- 
 rated from the Catholie Chureh in the East, just as the 
 Protestant ehurehes are separated from her in the West. 
 
 The Cireek Sehismatic Chureh, of wliieh tlie present 
 Russo-Greek Chureh is tlie offspring, severed her eon- 
 neetion with the See of Rome in tlie ninth eentury. 
 
 IJut in leaving the Catiiolic Chureh, these luistern 
 sects retained the old Liturgies, whieli they use to this 
 day. . . . 
 
 During my sojourn in Rome, at the Eeumenical Coun- 
 eil, I devoted a great deal of my leisure time to the ex- 
 amination of the various Liturgies of the Schismatie 
 ehurehes of the East. I found in all oi them formulas of 
 prayers for the dead almost identical with that of the 
 Roman Missal : '^ Remember, O Lord, Thy servants who 
 are gone before us with the sign of faith, and sleep in 
 peace. To these, O Lord, and to all who rest in Christ, 
 grant, we beseech Thee, a place of refreshment, light, and 
 peace, through the same Jesus Christ our Lord ! " 
 
 Not content with studying their books, I called upon 
 the Oriental Patriarchs and Bishops in communion with 
 the See of Rome, who belong to the Armenian, the Chal- 
 dean, the Coptic, the Maronite, and Syriac rites. They 
 all assured mc that the Schismatic Christians of the East 
 among whom they live have, without exception, prayers 
 and sacrifices for the dead. 
 
 Now, I ask, when could those Eastern sects have com- 
 menced to adopt the Catholic practice of praying for the 
 dead ? They could not have received it from us since 
 the ninth century, because the Greek Church separated 
 from us then, and has had no communion with us since 
 that time, except at intervals, up to the twelfth century. 
 Nor could they have adopted the practice since the fourth 
 or hfth century, inasmuch as the Arians, Nestorians, and 
 Eutychians have had no religious communication with 
 us since that period. Therefore, in common with us, 
 tliey received this doctrine from the Apostles. . . , 
 
 ang 
 
1 
 
 DOCTUINAL AND DEVOTIONAL, 
 
 51 
 
 { 
 
 c 
 
 I) 
 
 in 
 
 i^t, 
 
 lid 
 
 lon 
 lil.h 
 
 ul- 
 
 cy 
 
 ast 
 
 crs 
 
 pm- 
 
 thc 
 incc 
 Litcd 
 
 incc 
 jury. 
 
 and 
 IwitTfi 
 11 us, 
 
 I have already sjiokcn of the dcvolion of the ancient 
 Jewish Cluirch to the souls of tiie departed. But perhai)S 
 you arc not aware that the Jews retain to tliis dav, in 
 their Litun^y, the pious practice of praying for the dead. 
 Vet such in reality is the case. 
 
 Amid all their wandeiings and vicissitudes of life, 
 though disnienibcred and dispersed, like sheep without 
 a shepherd, over the surface of the globe, the children of 
 Israel have never forgotten or neglected the sacred duty 
 of praying for their deceased brethren. 
 
 Unwilling to make this assertion without the strongest 
 evidence, I procured from a Jewish convert an auth(jri/ed 
 Prayer-book of the Hebrew Church, from which 1 extract 
 the following formula of prayers which are prescribed 
 for funerals : " Departed brother ! mayest thou fmd o[)en 
 the gates of heaven, and see the city of peace and the 
 dwellings of safety, and meet the ministering angels hast- 
 ening joyfully towards thee! And may the High Priest 
 stand to receive thee, and go thou to the end, rest in 
 peace, and rise again i;Uo life ! May the repose estab- 
 lished in the celestial abode ... be the lot, dwelling, 
 and the resting place of the soul of our deceased brother 
 (whom the spirit of the Lord may guide into Paradise), 
 who departed from this worki, according to the will of 
 God, the Lord of heaven and earth. May the Supreme 
 King of Kings, through His infinite mercy, hide him 
 under the shadow of His wings. May He raise him at 
 the end of his days, and cause him to drink of the stream 
 of His delights!" 
 
 I am happy to say that the more advanced and enlight- 
 ened members of the Episcopalian Church are steadily 
 returning to the faith of their forefathers, regarding pray- 
 ers for the dead. An acquaintance of mine, once a dis- 
 tinguished clergyman of the Episcopal communion, but 
 now a convert, informed me that hundreds of Prot- 
 estant clergymen in this country, and particularly in 
 England, have a firm belief in the efficacy of prayers for 
 the dead, but for well-known reasons they are reserved 
 
 1| 
 
 ' 1 
 
 '% 
 
 y 
 
 I III 
 

 52 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 in the expression of their faith. He easily convinced me 
 of the truth of his assertion, particularly as far as the 
 Church of England is concerned, by sending me six dif- 
 ferent works published in London, all bearing on the sub- 
 ject of Purgatory. These books are printed under the 
 auspices of the Protestant Episcopal Church ; they all 
 C(3ntain prayers for the dead, and prove, from Catholic 
 grounds, the existence of a middle state after death, and 
 the duty of praying for our deceased brethren.' 
 
 To sum up : we see the practice of praying for the dead 
 enforced in the ancient Hebrew Church, and in the Jew- 
 ish synagogue of to-day. We see it proclaimed age after 
 age by all the Fathers of Christendom. We see it incor- 
 porated in every one of the ancient Liturgies of the East 
 and of the West. We see it zealously taught by the 
 Russian Church of to-day, and by that immense family of 
 schismatic Christians scattered over the East. We be- 
 hold it, in fine, a cherished devotion of two hundred mil- 
 lions of Catholics, as well as of a respectable portio. of 
 the Episcopal Church. 
 
 Would it not, my friend, be the height of rashness and 
 presumption in you to prefer your private opinion to this 
 immense weight of learning, sanctit}^ and authority? 
 Would it not be impiety in you to stand aside with sealed 
 lips, while the Christian world is sending up an imceas- 
 ing Dc profundis for departed brethren ? Would it not 
 be cold and heartless in you not to pray for your deceased 
 friends, on account of prejudices which have no grounds 
 in Scripture, tradition, or reason itself? 
 
 * * v4- * * -:f * 
 
 Oh ! far from us a religion which would decree an 
 eternal divorce between the living and the dead. How 
 consoling is it to the Catholic, to think that, in praying 
 thus for his departed friend, his prayers are not in viola- 
 tion of, but in accordance with, the voice of the Church ; 
 and that as, like Augustine, he watches at the pillow of a 
 
 ' Sec " Path of Holiness," Rivington's, London ; " Treasury of Devo- 
 tion," Ibid ; " Cuic'chism of Theology," Maslcu, London. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 53 
 
 dying mother, so, like Augustine, lie can continue the 
 same office of piety for lier soul after she is dead, by 
 praying for her. How cheering the reflection that the 
 golden link of prayer unites you still to those who " fall 
 asleep in the Lord," and that you can still speak to them 
 and pray for them ! . . . 
 
 Oh ! it is this thought that robs death of its sting and 
 makes the separation of friends endurable. And if your 
 departed friend needs not your prayers, they are not lost, 
 but, like the rain absorbed by the sun, and descending 
 again in fruitful showers on our fields, they will be gath- 
 ered by the Sun of Justice, and they will come down in 
 refreshing showers of grace upon your head. " Cast thy 
 bread upon the running waters ; tor, after a long time, 
 thou shalt find it again." ^ 
 
 ' Faith of our Fathers, chap. xvi. 
 
 ^ 
 
54 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY. 
 
 |i ! 
 
 ARCliniSnOl' HUGHES. ' 
 
 The Catholic Church docs not believe that God cre- 
 ated any to be damned absolutely, notwithstanding their 
 co-operation with the means of salvation which were se- 
 cured to them by the death of Jesus Christ ; nor any to 
 be saved absolutely, unless they co-operate with those 
 means. Hence she has ever taught the doctrine which is 
 inculcated in Scripture, that heaven may be obtained by 
 all who shall apply the means which the Saviour of the 
 World has left in His Church for that end : in a word, 
 that every man shall be judged according to his works. 
 This doctrine is consonant with the justice which must 
 belong to the Deity. She knows God is too pure to ad- 
 mit anything defiled into His heavenly abode (Apoc. xxi. 
 27) ; and yet too just and merciful to punish a slight 
 transgression with the same severity as is due to an enor- 
 mous crime. Now, suppose two men to sin against God 
 at the same time, the one by the deliberate murder of his 
 father — for the case is possible — and the other, by a slight, 
 almost inadvertent, falsehood ; and suppose, further, that 
 they are both to appear before God the next moment to 
 answer for the deeds done in the flesh, I ask whether it 
 is consistent with the idea we have of divine justice to 
 think that both will be condemned to the same everlast- 
 ing punishment? If it be, then there is no more moral 
 turpitude in parricide than in telling a trivial falsehood, 
 which injures no one, but still is offensive and dis]:)leasing 
 to God. But if it be not consistent with divine justice, 
 then you must admit the distinction of guilt, and conse- 
 quently of punishm.ent. Now, that God exacts a tempo- 
 rary punishment for sin, after the guilt and eternal pun- 
 ishment are remitted, appears from the testimony of His 
 Sacred Word. St. Paul teaches that the death of the 
 
 ' Answer to nine objections made. 
 
 yoi 
 
 real 
 
 sam 
 
 feel 
 
 Sun 
 
 ply 
 
 suffi 
 
 equa, 
 
 our 
 
 thori 
 
 that 
 
 8"i"ou 
 
 you 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 55 
 
 t 
 
 [t 
 lo 
 
 IS 
 
 lie 
 
 body is a punishment which the sin of our first parent 
 entailed on his progeny ; and yet many who have been 
 regenerated by baptism from that original guilt, neverthe- 
 less die before they have committed any actual sin what- 
 ever. The children of Israel had to leave their bones in 
 the wilderness, after the forty years' sojournment, as a 
 punishment, inflicted by the Almighty Himself, for sins 
 which He had expressly forgiven them. Num. xiv. 20, 
 22. David was forgiven his sin — and yet he was pun- 
 ished for it, by the death of his child, whom he loved 
 most tenderly. He sinned by numbering his people ; 
 and although it was forgiven him, he had still to choose 
 his punishment —either war, famine, or pestilence. It 
 such be the dispensation of God to His creatures in this 
 world, why may it not be rlso after death ? Will you say 
 it is because the body is the medium of suffering in this 
 life? This is not exactly true — the body, indeed, is the 
 medium, in many instances, through which the soul is 
 made to suffer. But God inflicted no corporal chastise- 
 ment on David by taking his child — it was the king's 
 soul that was touched, and felt, and suffered. Does not 
 the soul remain susceptible of suffering after death ; and 
 may not God, conformably with the examples here laid 
 down, extend to it in a future state the same salutary dis- 
 pensation, for His own just and merciful purposes? But 
 you will ask what vScripture I can quo^.e to show that He 
 really does so. Now, suppose I were to refer you to the 
 same rule, and demand from you the text by which you 
 feel warranted to profane the Sabbath, and sanctify the 
 Sunday in its stead — what will you have to answer in re- 
 ply ? Surely if the authority of the Catholic Church is 
 sufficient to authorize your practice in the one case, it is 
 equally so with regard to my belief in the other. But 
 our situations arc very different ; because I admit the au- 
 thority of the Church in both instances, and I shall prove 
 that her doctrine of Purgatory, so far Irom opposing, is 
 grounded on Scripture. Whereas you reject the Church, 
 you make, as you say, the Scripture the only rule of your 
 
56 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 faith ; and yet when the Scripture says, " Thou shalt 
 keep holy the Sabbath day," you say I will not sanctify 
 the Sabbath, but I will sanctify the day after. . . . 
 This tc let of belief is proved by every text of Scripture 
 in which it is implied that God will render to every man 
 according to his works. ... If the word Purgatory 
 has anything in it peculiarly offensive, you will not be the 
 less a Catholic for rejecting it, and using the Scriptural 
 word prison, provided you admit that such a place exists; 
 in which God after having forgiven the guilt and tempo- 
 ral punishment of their sins, causes the souls of the im- 
 perfect just to undergo, nevertheless, a temporary chastise- 
 ment, as David did in this life, before admitting them into 
 the realms of felicity. Now, if this be so, is it not rational 
 to believe that the mercy of God will be moved by the 
 prayers of His faithful servants on earth, who intercede in 
 behalf of their departed brethren? ... In a word, 
 the economy of God to His creatures even in this life is 
 consistent with the doctrine of Purgatory. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 57 
 
 PURGATORY AND WHAT WE OWE TO THE DEAD. 
 
 II- ^ 
 
 •I 
 
 ARCHBISHOP LYNCH. 
 
 The infallible Church, the spouse of the Holy Ghost, 
 the Pillar and Groyne! of Truth and the true teacher of the 
 doctrine of Christ, has, in the distribution of her feasts 
 and festivals, set apart one day in the year, the second of 
 November, in favor of the suffering souls in Purgatory. 
 She calls on all her children to assemble around her sacred 
 altars, to assist and pray at the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass 
 for the deliverance from Purgatory of the souls of those 
 who, whilst dying in peace with Our Lord, still had debts 
 to pay to His infinite justice. 
 
 These debts were contracted by the commission of mor- 
 tal sin, whose grievous fault, though removed by the Sac- 
 rament of Penance, yet left on the soul a debt which was 
 not sufficiently atoned for, or by the commission of venial 
 sin not sufficiently repented of. Purgatory is one of the 
 great cdnsoling doctrines of the Church of Christ. Only 
 the pure and perfect can enter Heaven ; and how few per- 
 sons leave this earth of temptation, sin, and trouble in that 
 state of purity and perfection ! If there were not a place 
 of purification, how few could go straight to Heaven ! 
 Nearly the whole human race would be deprived forever 
 of the beatific vision of God. God has chosen this way ot 
 exh'biting His justice and mercy : His justice, by exact- 
 ing the last particle of debt; and His mercy, by saving 
 the poor repentant sinner. God rewards every one ac- 
 cording to his works. Some are imperfect through want 
 of pure intention, through carelessness, vanity, or other 
 causes, like the hay and stubble adhering to gold and 
 precious stones which dull their lustre. 
 
 4t * .^fr ^V Vc * * 
 
 Oh, how few are perfect, and how few do penance in 
 proportion to their sins ! How few, in their dealing with 
 their fellow-men, giving measure for measure, goods equal 
 
 f 
 
I i 
 
 58 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 to the money paid for them, or services equal to the pay 
 received ! How many fail in charity, in words and ac- 
 tions! How many prayers said carelessly and without 
 thought, even at the most solemn times ! These will have 
 to be repeated, as it were, in Purgatory. How many will 
 suffer from their want of charity and mercy to the poor, 
 and failing to pay their just dues to God's Church for the 
 spiritual favors they receive from it ! " If we give you," 
 says St. Paul, " spiritual things, you should administer 
 to us temporal things." . . . 
 
 All spiritual writers agree that the pains of Purgatory 
 are intense, yet the souls are satisfied to suffer till the last 
 debt is paid. They would not wish to enter Heaven with 
 stains on their souls. God, in His great mercy, has per- 
 mitted some souls suffering in Purgatory to appear to 
 friends on earth to solicit their prayers and Masses, and 
 to pay their debts. This the Lives of the Saints and Eccle- 
 siastical History at all times attest. In these days when 
 faith is fading from some minds, even in the Church, it 
 behooves especially the Bishops to remind the faithful of 
 their duties and obligations to their departed friends. It 
 is thought by some that an expensive funeral, with its 
 many carriages, and a grand monument over the grave, 
 w411 satisfy all the requirements of decency and of family 
 love. Alas ! if the dead could only speak from their 
 graves, they would cry out and say, " All these monu- 
 ments and this worldly pageantry only crush us. They 
 only satisfy the vanity of the living, but in no way allevi- 
 ate our sufferings in Purgatory." . . . 
 
 Bnt the Bishops must, from time to time, remind the 
 people of their duty towards God's servants suffering in 
 Purgatory. In olden times, when faith, love, and affection 
 were stronger than now, devotion towards the souls in 
 Purgatory showed itself in numerous foundations in favor 
 of the souls in Purgatory. Churches and canonries 
 where Masses were celebrated ever}'^ day by canons and 
 monks, benefices for the education of poor students, hos- 
 pitals for the care of the sick, periodical distribution of 
 
 w 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 59 
 
 alms to the poor, to have rosaries and other prayers said 
 and pilgrimages made for the souls in Purgat(jry. All 
 these have been swept away by the ruthless hand of the 
 civil power, wishing to reform the Church ; and even at 
 the present day, when the Christian soul is about to 
 appear before the judgment-seat, there are legal impedi- 
 ments in the way of his making by will donations for 
 prayers or Masses. Therefore, my dear people, whilst 
 you are well make provision for your own soul. Do not 
 entrust it to the care of others who cannot love you 
 more th>.a you love yourselves. 
 
 ^ 'f! ¥i ¥: ^ ^- «- 
 
 This doctrine of Purgatory has always been taught in 
 the Church and handed down from bishops and priests 
 to their successors in the sacred ministry, and by the 
 voice of the people. " Stand fast, and hold the tradition 
 you have learned, whether by word or by our epistle." 
 (II. Thess. ii. 14.) Now prayers and Masses for the dead 
 are to be found in every ancient liturgy of the Church. 
 There is no Oriental liturgy without prayers for those 
 who have departed in peace. The Apostolic Constitu- 
 tions — the most ancient and genuine work — speak largely 
 of prayers for the dead, for the conversion of sinners. 
 
 There are religious congregations and pious associa- 
 tions specially devoted to the relief of the souls in 
 Purgatory. St. Vincent de Paul ordered the priests 
 of his congregation never to go to meals without first 
 saying the Dc' Profimdis for the souls in Purgatory. 
 The Church ends all the prayers of the divine office 
 with : " May the souls of the faithful departed, through 
 the mercy of God, rest in peace." One may turn away 
 with a sad thought from a tomb on which is not en- 
 graved : "May he rest in peace," or on which a cross — 
 the emblem of our hope in God and in a happy resur- 
 rection — does not figure. 
 
 We exhort you, beloved children in Christ, to enter- 
 tain an earnest charity towards the souls in Purgatory. 
 Vou loved them during life ; do not let it be said : " Out 
 
 ' '"1 
 
 iil 
 
 I t 
 
 ■::' 
 
 
^^i; 
 
 li 
 
 Co 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 of sight, out of mind." Love them in death or, Hving, 
 wishing earnestly to go to God. This charity will 
 greatly help yourselves. If a cup of cold water given 
 to a servant of God shall not go without its reward, 
 how much more a cup of celestial grace, that will shorten 
 the time in the flames of Purgatory of a soul that most 
 ardently longs to see God, who desires it Himself with 
 great love, and will reward those who shorten the exile 
 of His dear servants. ** Those," says St. Alphonsus 
 Liguori, " who succor the souls in Purgatory will be 
 succored in turn by the gratitude of those whom they 
 have relieved, and who enjoy sooner, by their prayers, 
 the beatific vision of God." 
 
 * 
 
 The Council of Trent, under the inspiration of the 
 Holy Ghost, has made decrees on the subject which 
 bind the consciences of the faithful. In the Thirteenth 
 Canon of the Sixth Session it decrees " that if any one 
 should say that a repentant sinner, after having received 
 the grace of justification, the punishment of eternal pains 
 being remitted, has no temporary punishment to be suf- 
 fered, either in this life or in the next, in Purgatory, 
 before he can enter into the Kingdom of God, let 
 him be anathema." 
 
 Though King David was assured, after his sincere 
 repentance, that his sin was forgiven, yet the Prophet 
 told him that he had still to suffer by the death of his child. 
 
 In the Twenty-fourth Session and Third Canon the 
 Holy Council defines that the Sacrifice of the Mass is 
 propitiatory, both for the living and the dead, for sins, 
 punishments, satisfactions, and for other necessities, 
 according to Apostolic traditions ; and the Bishop, 
 when he ordains, places the patena and chalice, with the 
 bread and wine, in the hands of the young priest and 
 says to him : " Receive the power to offer to God the 
 Sacrifice of the Mass, as well for the living as for the 
 dead, in the name of the Lord. Amen." 
 . The Holy Sacrifice of the Mass is, therefore, the most 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 6i 
 
 J-' 
 
 powerful means of relieving the souls in Purgatory ; next 
 is the fervent performance of the Stations of the Cross, 
 to which so many indulgences are attached ; then other 
 indulgenced prayers ; for example, the Rosary. Alms to 
 the poor is another powerful means. *' Blessed are the 
 merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." 
 
 There is another means which our ancestors loved — 
 to educate a student for the priesthood. St. Monica 
 rejoiced, on her death-bed, that she had a son to re- 
 member her every day at the altar. If you have not a 
 son you can adopt one, or subscribe, according to your 
 means, to the Students' Fund. 
 
 It is the custom in many places — and we wish that it 
 should be introduced where it is not — to receive the 
 offerings of the people on All Souls' Day, or the Sun- 
 day previous, or subsequent, and the proceeds to be 
 computed and INIasses offered up accordingly. 
 
 We attach the indulgences of the Way of the Cross 
 to certain crucifixes, and thus enable persons who can- 
 not conveniently visit the Church to make the Stations 
 there, to gain the indulgences of the ^Stations by reciting 
 fourteen times the "■ Our Father " and " Hail Mary," 
 with a " Glory be to the Father," etc., for each Station, 
 and five "Our Fathers" and "Hail Marys" in honor of 
 the five Adorable Wounds, with one for the intentions 
 of the Pope. 
 
 !« 
 
62 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 PURGATORY SURVEYED. 
 
 ! i 
 
 11 i 
 
 FATHER BINET, S. J. 
 
 [The following passaj^cs are taken from a most excellent and valuable 
 work, " Pury;atory Surveyed," edited by the late lamented Ur. Anderdon, 
 S. J., being by him "disposed, abridged, or enlarged," from a treatise by 
 Father Binet, a French Jesuit, published at Paris in 1625, at Douay in 1(127, 
 and translated soon aftjr by Father Richard Thimbleby, an English mem- 
 ber of the Society of Jesus. Says Dr. Anderdon in his preface : " The 
 alterations ventured upon in this reprint, consist chiefly in the mode cf 
 punctuation, which, being probably left to a French compositor, are anom- 
 alous, and often perj)k'xing. Some expressions, so obsolete as to prevent 
 the sense being clear, and in the same degree lessening the value of the 
 book to the general reader, have been exchanged for others in more common 
 use. . . . Let us earnestly hope that, at this moment, on the threshold 
 of the month specially dedicated by the Church to devotion en behalf of 
 the Holy Souls, the joint work of Fatliers Binet and Thimbleby niay pro- 
 duce an abundant harvest of intercession. If, during their own brief time 
 of trial, they were inspired to put together and to enforce such powerful 
 motives to stir up the faithful to this devotion, will they not now rejoice in 
 the re-production of their act of zeal and charity? Puringthe two hundred 
 and fifty years which have elapsed since the first publication of the French 
 work, many changes and revolutions h;\ve taken place in the histories of 
 those spots of earth, known as France and England. But the History of 
 Purgatory is ever the same; "happiness and unhappiness" combined; 
 both unspeakably great ; long detention, perhaps, or perhaps swift release, 
 according to the degree of faith and charity animating the Church militant. 
 May we now, and henceforth, realize in act, in habitual practice, and, all 
 the more, from the considerations given in the following ])ages, the immense 
 privilege of holding, to so great a degree, the keys of Purgatory in our 
 hands,] 
 
 Beeieve it, it is one of the first rudiments, but main 
 principles, of a Christian, to captivate his understanding^, 
 and so regulate all his dictamens, that they be sure to 
 run parallel with the sentiments of the Church. And 
 this 1 take to be the case when the question is started 
 about Purgatory fire, which I shall ever reckon in the 
 class of those truths, which cannot be contradicted with- 
 out manifest temerity ; as being the doctrine generally 
 preached and taught all over Christendom. 
 
 ' Published by Burns & Oates, Eondon. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 63 
 
 You must, then, conceive I'urjj^atory to be a vast, dark- 
 some and hideous chaos, lull ot tire and flames, in which 
 the souls are kept close prisoners, until they have fully 
 satished for all tiieir misdemeanors, accordin;^ to the esti- 
 mate of Divine justice. For God has made choice of this 
 clement of fire wherewith to ])unish souls, because it is 
 the most active, j)iercing', sensible,' and insupi)ortable of 
 all others. But that which quickens it, indeed, and gives 
 it more life, is this : that \^ acts as the instrument of God's 
 justice, who, by His omnipotent power, heij^htens and 
 reinforces its activity as He pleases, and so makes it 
 capable to act upon bodiless spirits. Do not, then, look 
 only upon this fire, though in good earnest it be dreadful 
 enough of itself; but consider the Arm that is stretched 
 out, and the Hand that strikes, and the rigor of God's 
 infinite justice, who, through this element of fire, vents 
 His wrath, and pours out whole tempests of His most 
 severe and yet most just vengeance. So that the fire 
 works as much mischief,- as I may say, to the souls, as 
 God commands ; and He commands as much as is due; 
 and as much is due as the sentence bears : a sentence 
 irrevocably pronounced at the high tribunal of the severe 
 and rigorous justice of an angry God, and whose anger 
 is so prevalent that the Holy Scripture styles it ** a day 
 of fury." Now, you will easily believe that this fire is a 
 most horrible punishment in its own nature ; but you 
 may do well to reflect also on that which I have now 
 suggested ; that the fury of Almighty God is, as it were, 
 the fire of this fire, and the heat of its heat; and that He 
 serves Himself of it as He pleases, by doubling and re- 
 doubling its sharp pointed forces ; for this is that which 
 makes it the more grievous and insupportable to the 
 souls that are thus miserably confined and imprisoned. 
 
 They were not much out of the way, that styled Pur- 
 gatory a transitory kind of hell, because the principal 
 
 ilil 
 
 ' i. c, Apprehended by the senses. 
 
 ''». ^.,Not implying injury, far less injustice; but simply punishment 
 and suffering. 
 
 \ 
 
^ 
 
 ' l) 
 
 
 11 i 
 
 64 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 pains of tlic damned arc to be found tlicrc ; with this only 
 difference, that in hell they are eternal, and in Purgatory 
 they arc only transitory and nectinj^ : for, otherwise, it is 
 probably the very same hre that burns both the Holy 
 Souls and the damned spirits; and the pain of loss is, in 
 both i)laces, tlic chief torment. . . . Now, docs not 
 your hair stand on end? does not your heart tremble, 
 when you hear that the poor souls in Purgatory are tor- 
 mented with the same, or the like flames to those of the 
 damned? Can you refrain from crying out, with the 
 Prophet Isaias : " Who can dwell with such devouring 
 fire, and unquenchable burnings?" Heavens! what a 
 lamentable case is this! Those miserable souls, who of 
 late, when they were wedded to their bodies, were so 
 nice and dainty, forsooth, that they durst scarce venture 
 to enjoy the comfc^rtable heat of a fire, but under the 
 protection of their screens and their fans, for fear of 
 spoiling their complexions, and if, by chance, a spaik had 
 been so rude as to light upon them, or a little smoke, it 
 was not to be endured : . . . — Alas ! how will it fare 
 with ther\ when they shall see themselves tied to un- 
 merciful firebrands, or imbodied, as it were, with fiames 
 of fire, surrounded with frightful darkness, broiled and 
 consumed without intermission, and perhaps condemned 
 to the same fire with which the devils arc unspeakably 
 tormented ? (Pages 4-7.) 
 
 Good God ! how the great wSaints and Doctors as- 
 tonish me when they treat of this fire, and of the pain of 
 sense, as they call it ! For they peremptorily pronounce 
 that the fire that purges those souls, those both happy 
 and unhappy souls, surpasses all the torments that arc to 
 be found in this miserable life of man, or are possible to 
 be invented, for so far they go. . . Thus they discourse : 
 The fire and the pains of the other world are of another 
 nature from those of this life, because God elevates them 
 above their nature to be instruments of His severity. 
 Now, say they, things of an inferior degree can never 
 
V- 
 
 ^ 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 65 
 
 reach the power of siuli thiiijj^s as are of a hij^^her lank. 
 For exam|)lc, the air, let it be ever so inlhniied, unless it he 
 converted into lire, can never be so hot as lire. Besides, 
 God bridles llisri^or in this world; but, in the next. He 
 lets the reins loose and [)unishes almost ecjually to the 
 desert. And, since those souls have preterred creatures 
 before their Creator, He seems to be put upon a neces- 
 sity of i)unishin<^ them beyond the ordinary strength of 
 creatures; and hence it is that the fire of l'ur<j;'atory 
 burns more, torments and inll'cts more, than all the 
 creatures of this life are a!_;le to do. iiut is it really true 
 that ihe least pihi ii, Pucr^atory e.ceeds the fi^reatest 
 here upon earth? () G< dl ihc vc j-- statement makes me 
 tremble for fear, and my very heart freezes into ice with 
 astonishment. And yet, who cVdiV oppose St. Auij^ustiu..-, 
 St. Thomas, St. Ansclm, St Gregory rhe Grcal? Is 
 there any hope of carrying' tlic iiejj;\'itivc asseT-ti/)ri ac^ainst 
 such a stream of Doctors, who 'dl maiiv.ain i\v: aflJrrtia- 
 tive, and bring- so strong' rcas' :ii. Uh' Uj . . . 
 
 •::- * •;■? •::• # * -x- 
 
 But for Thy comfort, there are Doct'">rs in the Catholic 
 Church that cannot agree with so much soveriiy , and, 
 namely, St. Bonaventure, who is vv'ry pen mpiorv in 
 denying it. " For, what svay is Hicre," says thij holy 
 Doctor, "to verify so great a panidox. without sounding 
 reason, and destroying the infinite mercy of God ? I am 
 easily persuaded there are Knmcnts in P\'rg'it<)ry far ex- 
 ceeding any in this mortal life: this is most certain, 
 and it is but reasorabh. a jhould be so ; but that the 
 least there should be more terrible than the most ter- 
 rible in the world v:a\,not enter into my belief May it 
 not often fall ort that a man comes to die in a most 
 eminent strie of perfection, save only, that in his last 
 agony, out of mere frailty, he commits a venial sin, or 
 carries along with him some relic of his former failings, 
 which might have been easily blotted out with a Ptrfcr 
 Nostcr, or washed away with a little holy water; for I 
 am supposing it to be some very small matter. Nc w , 
 
 I 
 
 \ m 
 
66 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ! 
 
 what likelihood is there, I will not say, that the infinite 
 mercy of God, but that the very rigor of His justice, 
 though you conceive it to be ever so severe, should 
 inflict so horrible a punishment upon this holy soul, as 
 not to be equalled by the greatest torments in this life ; 
 and all this for some petty fault scarce worth the speak- 
 ing of? How ! would you have God, for a kind of trifle, 
 to punish a soul full of grace and virtue, and so severely 
 to punish her as to exceed all the racks, cauldrons, fur- 
 naces, and other hellish inventions, which are scarce 
 inflicted upon the most execrable criminals in the world ? 
 (Pp. 9-1 1.) 
 
 ->f * «• * -:<• % 4f 
 
 It is not the fire, nor all the brimstone and tortures 
 they endure, which murders them alive. No, no ; it is 
 the domestical cause of all these mischiefs that racks 
 their consciences and is their crudest executioner. This, 
 this is the greatest of their evils ; for a soul that has 
 shaken off" tlie fetters of flesh and blood, and is full of the 
 love of God, no more disordered with unruly passions, 
 nor blinded with the night of ignorance, sees clearly the 
 vast injury she has done to herself to have offended so 
 good a God, and to have deserved to be thus banished 
 out of His sight and deprived of that Divine fruition. 
 She sees how easily she might have flown up straight to 
 heaven at her first parting with her body, and what trifle 
 it was that impeded her. A moment lost of those inebriat- 
 ing joys, seems to her now worthy to be redeemed witli 
 an eternity of pains. Then, reflecting with herself that she 
 was created only for God, and cannot be truly satisfied 
 but by enjoying God, and that, out of Him, all this 
 goodly machine of the world is no better than a direct 
 hell and an abyss of evils. Alas ! what worms, what 
 martrydoms, and what nipping pincers are such jiinch- 
 ing thoughts as these. The fire is to her but as smoke 
 in comparison to this vexing remembrance of her own 
 follies, which betrayed her to this disgraceful and un- 
 avoidable misfortune. There was a king who, in a 
 
 humc 
 
 the p 
 
 turnii 
 
 he h^ 
 
 Strang 
 
 a yea 
 
 cal vh 
 
 the lo 
 
 praise 
 
 gator} 
 
 right ( 
 
 Con; 
 befall ; 
 blessec 
 courajr 
 horribl 
 evil to 
 if you 
 confusi 
 to beho 
 of fire, 
 but a s 
 and stin 
 souls o 
 and sin: 
 whilst 
 ing, so 
 kings, ei 
 oracles 
 so great 
 confusio 
 how casi 
 not. 8( 
 tains of 
 the gout 
 silver th 
 in that fi 
 
II 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 67 
 
 humor gave away his crown and his whole estate, for 
 the present refreshment of a cup of cold water ; but, re- 
 turning a little to himself and soberly reflecting what 
 he had done, had like to have run stark mad to see the 
 strange, irreparable folly he had committed. To lose 
 a year, or two years (to say no more^, of the beatifi- 
 cal vision for a glass of water, for a handful of earth, for 
 the love of a fading beauty, for a little air of worldly 
 praise, a mere puff of honor — ah ! it is the hell of Pur- 
 gatory to a soul that truly loves God and frames a 
 right conceit of things. (Pp. 14, 15.) 
 
 -» •::• * -::■ -::- * -::• 
 
 Confusion is one of the most intolerable evils that can 
 befall a soul ; and, therefore, St. Paul, speaking of Our 
 blessed Saviour, insists much upon this, that He had the 
 courage and the love for us all to overcome the pain of a 
 horrible confusion, which doubtless is an insupportable 
 evil to a man of intelligence and courage. Tell me, then, 
 if you can, what a burning shame and what a terrible 
 confusion it must be to those noble and generous souls, 
 to behold themselves overwhelmed with a confused chaos 
 of fire, and such a base fire which affords no other light 
 but a sullen glimmering, choked up with a sulphureous 
 and stinking smoke ; and in the interim to know that the 
 souls of many country clowns, mere idiots, poor women 
 and simple religious persons, go straight up to heaven, 
 whilst they lie there burning — they that were so know- 
 ing, so rich and so wise ; they that were counsellors to 
 kings, eminent preachers of God's word, and renowned 
 oracles in the world ; they that were so great divines, 
 so great statesmen, so capable of high employments. This 
 confusion is much heightened by their further knowing . 
 how easily they might have avoided all this raid would 
 not. Sometimes they would have given whole moun- 
 tains of gold to be rid of a stone in the kidneys or a fit of 
 the gout, colic or burning fever, and for a handful of 
 silver they might have redeemed many years* torments 
 in that fiery furnace ; and, alas ! they chose rather to give 
 
 J 
 
.rrt^ 
 
 68 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 f i 
 
 it to their clogs and their horses, and sometimes to men 
 more beasts than they and much more unworthy. Me- 
 thinks this thought must be more vexing than the fire 
 itself, though never so grievous. 
 
 And yet there remains one thought more, which certain- 
 ly has a great share in completing their martyrdom ; and 
 that is the remembrance of their children or heirs which 
 they left behind them ; who swim in nectar and live joUily 
 on the goods which they purciiased with the sweat of 
 their brows, and yet are so ungrateful, so brutish, and so 
 barbarous that they will scarce vouchsafe to say a Pater 
 Nostcr in a whole month for their souls who brought them 
 into the world, and w^ho, to place them in a terrestrial 
 paradise of all worldly delights, made a hard venture of 
 their own souls and had like to have exchanged a tem- 
 poral punishment for an eternal. The leavings and 
 superfluities of their lackeys, a throw of dice, and yet 
 less than that, might have set them free from these hellish 
 torments ; and these wicked, ungrateful wretches would 
 
 not so much as think on it. (Pp. 31-33.) 
 
 * * -h * ^;- * * 
 
 Before I leave off finishing this picture, or put a period 
 to the representation of the pains of Purgatory, I cannot 
 but relate a very remarkable history which will be as a 
 living picture before your eyes. But be sure you take it 
 not to be of the number of those idle stories which pass 
 for old wives' talcs, or mere imaginations of cracked 
 brains and simple souls. No ; I will tell you nothing but 
 what Venerable Bede, so grave an author, witnesses to 
 have happened in his time, and to have been generally 
 believed all over England without contradiction, and to 
 . have been the cause of wonderful effects ; and which is so 
 authenticated that Cardinal Bellarmine, a man of such 
 judgment as the world knows, having related it himself, 
 concludes thus : *' For my part I firmly believe this his- 
 tory, as very conformable to the Holy Scripture, and 
 whereof I can have no doubt without wronging truth 
 and wounding my own conscience, which ought readily 
 
 to yi 
 and ; 
 and a 
 Ab 
 in th( 
 being 
 gator 
 full o" 
 Here 
 finite 
 flames 
 both 
 whirlv 
 ble sc( 
 and 01 
 repose 
 were ti 
 was P 
 sins, ar 
 until tl 
 free be 
 alms, ai 
 fice of 
 from dc 
 ful rela 
 of the 
 sj)cnt t 
 away \\ 
 partly t 
 profcjssi 
 tongue 
 spake 
 world, 
 ill freezi 
 much sv 
 liim, '' J] 
 biting c 
 seen otl: 
 
"mmm^^f^^ 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 69 
 
 I 
 
 to yield assent unto that which is attested by so many 
 and so credible witnesses and confirmed by such holy 
 and admirable events." 
 
 About the year of our Lord 690, a certain Englishman, 
 in the county of Nvirthumberland, by name Brithelmus, 
 bein^^ dead for a tuno, was conducted to the place of I\ir- 
 <Tat()ry by a guide, whose countenance and apparel was 
 full of light ; you may imagine it was his good Angel. 
 Here he was shown two broad valleys of a vast and in- 
 finite length, one full of glowing firebrands and terrible 
 ilames, the other as full of hail, ice, and snow ; and in 
 both these were innumerable souls, who, as with a 
 whirlwind, were tossed up and down out of the intolera- 
 ble scorching fiames, into the insufferable rigors of cold, 
 and out of these into those again, without a moment of 
 repose or respite. This he took to be hell, so frightful 
 were those torments ; but his good Angel told him no, it 
 was Purgatory, where the souls did penance for their 
 sins, and especially such as had deferred their conversion 
 until the hour of death ; and that many of them were set 
 free before the Day of Judgment for the good prayers, 
 alms, and fasts of the living, and chiefly by the holy Sacri- 
 fice of the jNIass. Now this holy man, being raised again 
 from death to life by the power of God, first made a faith- 
 ful relation of all that he had seen, to the great amazement 
 of the hearers, then retired himself into the church and 
 spent the whole niglit in prayer ; and soon after, gave 
 away his whole estate, partly to his wife and children, 
 partly to the poor, and taking upon hiiu the habit and 
 profession of a mcmk, led so austere a life that even if his 
 tongue had been silent, yet his life and conversation 
 spake aloud what wonders he had seen in the other 
 world. Sometimes they would see him, old as he was, 
 in freezing water up to his ears, praying and singing with 
 much sweetness and incredible fervor; and if they asked 
 him, *' Brother, alas! how can you suffer such sharp and 
 biting cold?" *'() my friends," would he say, " 1 have 
 seen other manner of cold than this." Thus, when he 
 
 I 
 
 : 
 
 » 
 
 is 
 
 m 
 
 I ♦" 
 
■:i 
 
 70 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 U' 
 
 tl 
 
 even groaned under the voluntary burden of a world of 
 most cruel mortifications, and was questioned how it was 
 possible for a weak and broken body like his to undergo 
 such austerities, " Alas ! my dear brethren," would he still 
 say, " 1 have seen far greater austerities than these : they 
 are but roses and perfumes in comparison of what I have 
 seen in tlie subterraneous lakes of Purgatory." And in 
 these kinds of austerities he spent the remainder of his 
 life and made a holy end, and purchased an eternal para- 
 dise, for having had but a siglit of the pains of Purgatory. 
 And we, dear Christians, if wc believed in good earn- 
 est, or could but once procure to have a true sight or 
 apprehension of them, should certainly have other 
 thoughts and live in another fashion than wc do. (Pp. 
 44-46.) 
 
 ******* 
 
 Now, would you clearly see how the souls can at the 
 same instant swim in a paradise of delights and yet be 
 overwhelmed with the hellish torments of Purgatory? 
 Cast your eyes upon the holy martyrs of God's Church, 
 and observe their behavior. They were torn, mangled, 
 dismembered, flayed alive, racked, broiled, burnt — and 
 tell me, was not this to live in a kind of hell ? And yet, 
 in the very height of their torments their hearts and souls 
 were ready to leap for joy ; you would have taken them 
 to be already transported into heaven. Hear them but 
 speak for themselves. " O lovely cross," cried out St. 
 Andrew, " made beautiful by the precious Body of Christ, 
 how long have I desired thee, and with what care have I 
 sought thee ! and now, that I have found thee, receive 
 me into thine arms, and lift me up to my dear Redeemer ! 
 O death,' how amiable art thou in my eyes, and how sweet 
 is thy cruelty ! " " Your coals," said St. Cecily, " your 
 flaming firebrands, and all the terrors of death, are to me 
 but as so many fragrant roses and lilies, sent from 
 heaven." " Shower down upon me," cried .St. Stephen, 
 
 ' From the author's text, it seems doubtfu] whether this sentence is to 
 be attributed to St. Andrew or St. Cecilia. 
 
 " vvh( 
 and J 
 Fath( 
 excla: 
 cruel 
 thy f 
 little 
 haste, 
 the b 
 for th( 
 the M 
 a thou 
 a plea 
 come 
 tyr; - 
 upon 
 of Chi 
 Now I 
 the ha 
 claim, 
 breach 
 from r 
 Lord . 
 let my 
 joy of 
 soul w| 
 vsolatio 
 expres 
 You 
 from 
 capabl 
 forth 
 (Pp. 49 
 
 t 
 
 11 
 
 But 
 said, 
 believe 
 holy 
 
 S( 
 
aia-Tfii 1111, 
 
 MM 
 
 ^■, 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 71 
 
 " whole deluges of stones, whilst I see tlie heavens open 
 and Jesus Christ standing at the right side of His Eternal 
 Father, to behold the fidelity of Mis champion." " Turn," 
 exclaimed St. Lawrence, " oh ! turn, the other side, thou 
 cruel tyrant, this is already broiled, and cooked fit for 
 thy palate. Oh, how well am I pleased to suffer this 
 little Purgatory for the love of my Saviour ! " " Make 
 haste, O my soul," cried St. Agnes, " to cast thyself upon 
 the bed of flames which thy dear Spouse has prepared 
 for thee!" *' Oh," cried St. Fclicitas, and the mother of 
 the Machabees, " Oh, that I had a thousand children, or 
 a thousand lives, to sacrihce them all to my God. What 
 a pleasure it is to suffer for so good a cause ! " " Wel- 
 come tyrants, tigers, lions," writes St. Ignatius the Mar- 
 tyr ; " let all the torments that the devils can invent come 
 upon me, so I may enjoy my Saviour. I am the wheat 
 of Christ; oh, let me be ground with the lions' teeth. 
 Now I begin indeed to be the disciple of Christ." " Oh, 
 the happy stroke of a sword," might St. Paul well ex- 
 claim, " that no sooner cuts off my head, but it makes a 
 breach for my soul to enter into heaven. Let it be far 
 from me to glory in anything, but in the Cross of Our 
 Lord Jesus Christ. Let all evils band against me, and 
 let my body be never so overloaded with afflictions, the 
 joy of my heart will be sure to have the mastery, and my 
 soul will be still replenished with such heavenly con- 
 solations that no words, nor even thoughts, are able to 
 express it." 
 
 You may imagine, then, that the souls, once unfettered 
 from the body, may, together with their torments, l)e 
 capable of great comforts and divine favors, and break 
 forth into resolute, heroical, and even supercelestial acts. 
 (Pp. 49-51). 
 
 * -X- -X- * -X- * •!{- 
 
 But there is yet something of a higher nature to be 
 said. . . . We have all the reason in the world to 
 believe that God, of His infinite goodness, inspires these 
 holy souls with a thousand heavenly lights, and such 
 
 i M 
 
 i 
 
 ■ I 
 
 ' r 
 
 I ; 
 
 ■im 
 
72 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ravishing thoughts, that they cannot but take themselves 
 to be extremely happy : so happy that St. Catherine of 
 Genoa professed she had learnt of Almighty God that, 
 excepting only the blessed Saints in heaven, there were 
 no joys com})arablc to those of the souls in Purgatory. 
 " For," said she, " when they consider that they are in 
 the hands of God, in a place deputed for them by His 
 lioly providence, and just where God would have them, 
 it is not to be expressed what a sweetness they find in so 
 loving a thought : and certainly they had infinitely rather 
 be in I\irgat()ry, to comply with His divine pleasure, 
 than be in Paradise, with violence to His justice, and a 
 manifest breach of the ordinary laws of the house of God. 
 I will say more," continued she : " it cannot so much as 
 steal into their thoughts to desire to be anywhere else 
 tlian where they arc. Seeing that God has so placed 
 them, they are not at all troubled that others get out 
 before them ; and they are so absorbed in this profound 
 meditation, of being at God's disposal, in the bosom of 
 His sweet providence, that they cannot so much as dream 
 of being anywhere else. wSo that, mcthinks, those kind 
 expressions of Almighty God, by His prophets, to His 
 chosen people, may be fitly applied to the unhappy and 
 yet happy condition of these holy souls. ' Rejoice, my 
 people,' says the loving God ; * for I swear unto you by 
 Myself, that when you shall pass through flames of fire, 
 they shall not hurt you : I shall be there with you ; I shall 
 take off the edge, and blunt the points, of those piercing 
 flames. I will raise the bright Aurora in your darkness; 
 and the darkness of your nights shall outshine the mid- 
 day. I will pour out My peace into the midst of your 
 hearts, and replenish your souls with the bright shining 
 lights of heaven. You shall be as a paradise of delights, 
 bedewed with a living fountain of heavenly waters. You 
 shall rejoice in your Creator, an ' I will raise you above 
 the height of mountains, and n arish you with manna 
 and the sweet inheritance of Jacob ; for the mouth of 
 the Lord hath spoken it : and it cannot fail, but shall be 
 
 sure 
 6i,6: 
 
 Bu 
 
 the s( 
 
 passic 
 
 their 
 
 these 
 
 not to 
 
 extren 
 
 deavoi 
 
 sweat ii 
 
 enjoyei 
 
 oppres: 
 
 was CO 
 
 ner, th 
 
 withal 5 
 
 of our 1 
 
 . me, too 
 
 to affon 
 
 In th( 
 St. Don: 
 first of 
 he founc 
 souls in 
 vat ion ; 
 jiidgmen 
 rather to 
 the wick( 
 t'leir salv 
 as leadin 
 willingly 
 that I be< 
 <liat is at 
 stowed, 
 'lappiness 
 1 believe 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 73 
 
 sure to fall out so, because He hath spoken it'" (Pp. 
 6i, 62). 
 
 ■JC- vt- * * %<• * * 
 
 But let not this discourse cool your charity ; lest, seeing 
 the souls enjoy so much comfort in Purgatory, your com- 
 passion for them grow slack, and so continue not equal to 
 their desert, l^emember, then, that notwithstanding all 
 these comforts here rehearsed, the poor creatures cease 
 not to be grievously tormented ; and consequently have 
 extreme need of all your favorable assistance and pious en- 
 deavors. When Christ Jesus v/as in His bitter agony, 
 sweating bh I and water, the superior part of His soul 
 enjoyed God and His glory, and yet His body was so 
 oppressed with sorrow, that He was ready to die, and 
 was content to be comforted by an Angel. In like man- 
 ner, these holy souls have indeed great joys ; but feel 
 withal such bitter torments, that they stand in great need 
 of our help. So that you will much wrong them, and 
 me, too, to stand musing so long upon their joys, as not 
 to afford them succor. (P. 80.) 
 
 -» -X- •;<• * * * -)5- 
 
 In the history of the incomparable order of the great 
 wSt. Dominic, it is authentically related that one of the 
 first of those holy, religious men was wont to say, that 
 he found himself not so much concerned to pray for the 
 souls in Purgatory, because they are certain of their sal- 
 vation ; and that, upon this account, we ought not, in his 
 judgment, to be very solicitous for them, but ought 
 rather to bend our whole care to help sinners, to convert 
 the wicked, and to secure such souls as are uncertain of 
 their salvation, and probably certain of their damnation, 
 as leading very evil lives. Here it is, said he, that I 
 willingly employ my wliole endeavors. It is upon these 
 that I bestow my Masses and prayers, and all that little 
 111 at is at my disposal ; and thus I take it to be well be- 
 stowed. But upon souls that have an assurance of eternal 
 happiness, and can never more lose God or offend Him, 
 1 believe not, said he, that one ought to be so solicitous. 
 
74 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 II 
 
 u, 
 
 
 
 This certainly was but a poor and weak discourse, to give 
 it no severer a censure ; and the consequence of it was 
 this, that the good man did not only himself forbear to 
 help these poor souls, but, which was worse, dissuaded 
 others from doing it ; and, under color of a greater char- 
 ity, withdrew that succor which, otherwise, good people 
 would lil)erally have afforded them. But God took tlieir 
 cause in hand ; for, permitting the souls to appear and 
 sIkjw themselves in frightful shapes, and to haunt the 
 good man by night and day without resj)ite, still filling 
 his fancy with dreadful imaginations, and his eyes with 
 terrible spectacles, and withal letting him know who they 
 were, and why, with God's permission, they so impor- 
 tuned him with their troublesome visits, you may believe 
 the good Father became so affectionately kind to the 
 soids in Purgatory, bestowed so many jNIasses and pray- 
 ers upon them, preached so fervently in their behalf, 
 stirred up so many to the same devotion, that it is a thing 
 incredible to believe, and not to be expressed with elo- 
 quence. Never did you see so many and so clear and 
 convincing reasons as he alleged, to demonstrate that it 
 is the most eminent piece of fraternal charity in this life 
 to [)ray for the souls departed. Love and fear are the 
 two most excellent orators in the world ; they can teach 
 all rhetoric in a moment, and infuse a most miraculous 
 eloquence. This good Father, w^ho thought he should 
 have been fri.Qfhtened to death, was cfrown so fearful of a 
 second assault, that he bent his whole understanding to 
 invent the most pressing and convincing arguments to 
 stir up the world both to pity and to piety, and so per- 
 suade souls to help souls ; and it is incredible what good 
 ensued thereupon. (Pp. 82-84.) 
 
 * w * ->j * ^- -X- 
 
 Is there anything within the whole circumference of 
 the universe so worthy of compassion, and that may so 
 deservedly claim the greatest share in all your devotions 
 and charities, as to see our fathers, our mothers, our near- 
 est and dearest relations, to lie broiling in cruel flames, 
 
 and tr 
 cruelt 
 earth i 
 this, m 
 forces. 
 
 St. T 
 our wo 
 see wh( 
 sity, a ^t 
 where ; 
 to run t 
 not able 
 than to 
 God? ■ 
 are sure 
 of more 
 ery in t 
 8:lory, th 
 eternally 
 more of t 
 sighs, yoi 
 your dev 
 goods; I 
 translatin 
 torments 
 Francis ^ 
 the other, 
 The dang 
 pleasing, 
 ployed, 
 with so li 
 sand beau 
 ot losing a 
 ^ain that 
 Would per 
 I'ersevere 
 salvation. 
 
 M 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 75 
 
 and to cry to us for help with tears that arc able to move 
 cruelty itself? Whence I conclude there is not upon the 
 earth any object that deserves more commiseration tlian 
 this, nor where fraternal charity can better employ all her 
 forces. (P. 86.) 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 a 
 
 St. Thomas tells us there is an order to be observed in 
 our works of charity to our neighbor; that is, we are to 
 see where there is a g'reatcr obligation, a greater neces- 
 sity, a greater merit, and the like circumstances. Now, 
 where is there more necessity, or more obligation, than 
 to run to the fire, and to help those that lie there, and arc 
 not able to get out ? Where can you have more merit, 
 than to have a hand in raising up Saints and servants of 
 God ? Where have you more assurance than where you 
 are sure to lose nothing? W^hcre can you find an object 
 of more compassion, than where there is the greatest mis- 
 cry in the world ? Where is there seen more of God's 
 glory, than to send new Saints into heaven to praise God 
 eternally? Lastly, where can you show more charity, and 
 more of the love of God, than to employ your tears, yoia* 
 sighs, your goods, your hands, your heart, your life, and all 
 your devotion, to procure a good that surpasses all other 
 goods ; I mean, to make souls happy for all eternity, by 
 translating them into heavenly joys, out of insupportable 
 torments? That glorious Apostle of the Indies, St. 
 Francis Xavier, could run from one end of the world to 
 the other, to convert a soul, and think it no long journey. 
 The dangers by sea and land seemed sweet, the tempests 
 pleasing, the labor easy, and his whole time well em- 
 l)loycd. Good God ! what an advantage have we, that 
 with so little trouble and few prayers, may send a thou- 
 sand beautiful souls into heaven, without the least hazard 
 of losing anything ? St. Francis Xavier could not be cer- 
 tain that the Japanese, for example, whom he baptized, 
 would persevere in their faith ; and, though they should 
 [•ersevere in it, he could have as little certainty of their 
 salvation. Now, it is an article of our faith, that the holy 
 
 '\ n 
 
 il 
 
 
;6 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 souls in Purj^atory arc in j^racc, and shall assuredly one 
 day enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. (Pp. 91, 92.) 
 Vc •::• ■:<• ■>;• •:<• •;<• «• 
 
 We read in the life of St. Catherine of Bologna, . . 
 that she had not only a strange tenderness for the souls, 
 but a singular devotion to them, and was wont to recom- 
 mend herself to them in all her necessities. The reason 
 she alleged for it was this: that she had learned of Al- 
 niighty Ciod how she had iVe([ucntly obtained far greater 
 favors by their intercession than by any other means. 
 And the story adds this: that it often happ-.neci that 
 what she begged of Ciod, at the intercession of the Saints 
 in iieaven, she could never obtain of Him; and yet, 
 as soon as she addressed herself to the souls in Pur- 
 gatory she had her suit instantly granted. Can there 
 be any question but there arc souls in that purging fire 
 who are of a higher i)itch of sanctity, and of far greater 
 merit in the sight of God, than a thousand and a thou- 
 vsand Saints who are already glorious in the Court of 
 Heaven. {V. 102.) 
 
 -,!• -/!• ■%• % -A- * 4> 
 
 Cardinal Baronius, a man of credit beyond exxeption, 
 relates, in his Ecclesiastical Annals, how a person of rare 
 virtue found himself dangerously assaulted at the hour of 
 his death ; and that, in this agony, he saw the heavens 
 open and about eight thousand champions, all covered 
 with white armor, descend, who fell instantly to encour- 
 age him by giving him this assurance : that they were 
 come to fight for him and to disengage him from that 
 doubtful combat. And when, with infinite comfort, and 
 tears in his eyes, he besought them to do him the favor 
 to let him know who they were that had so highly 
 obliged him: "We are," said they, " the souls whom 
 you have saved and delivered out of Purgatory ; and 
 now, to requite the favor, wx are come down to convey 
 you instantly to heaven." And with tiiat, he died. 
 
 We read another such story of St. Gertrude; how she 
 was troubled at her death to think what must become 
 
 of her, 
 
 of her 
 
 reservi 
 
 Saviou 
 
 "ot on 
 
 coiuhuA 
 
 numera 
 
 her ferv 
 
 drcd-fol 
 
 which t 
 
 better n 
 
 (^'p. 104, 
 
 The C 
 
 satisfy, b 
 
 Court of 
 
 "ally ban 
 
 Where! 
 
 impetratii 
 
 former sa 
 
 treasury ( 
 
 from othc 
 
 derived fi- 
 
 looked foij 
 
 The CI 
 
 advantage] 
 
 Jielp the sf 
 
 factory yyl 
 
 frages, wh] 
 
 ^vho are r| 
 
 tiieir sins. 
 
 suffered a 
 
 into heavt 
 
 '^'•pply for 
 
 nii^nt, as fij 
 
 *'iat stands! 
 
 Jnmself 
 
 entering be 
 
i )1 
 
 fi 
 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 ;; 
 
 of her, since she had tjlvcii away all the rich treasure 
 of her satisfactions to redeem other poor souls, without 
 reservin<^ anything; to herself; but that Our Blessed 
 vSaviour gave iier the comfort to know that slie was 
 not onlv to have the like favor of bein;^ immediately 
 conducted into heaven out of this world, by those in- 
 numerable souls whom she had sent thither before her by 
 her fervent })ravers, but was there also to receive a hun- 
 dred-fold of etc rnal ^lory in reward ot her charity. By 
 which examples we may learn that we cannot make 
 better use of our devotion and charity than this way. 
 
 (Pp. 104, 105.) 
 
 ^;- •» * * * * % 
 
 The Church Triumphant, to speak properly, cannot 
 satisfy, because there is no place for penal works in the 
 Court of Heaven, whence all grief and pain are eter- 
 nallv banished. 
 
 Wherefore, the Saints may well proceed by way of 
 impetration and prayers ; or, at most, represent their 
 former satisfactions, which are carefully laid up in the 
 treasury of the Church, in lieu of those which are due 
 from others; but, as for any new satisfaction or "payment 
 derived from any penal act of their own, it is not to be 
 looked for in those happy mansions of eternal glory. 
 
 The Church Militant may do either ; as having this 
 advantage over the Church Triumplumt, that she can 
 help the souls in Purgatory by her prayers and satis- 
 factory works, and by offering up her charitable suf- 
 frages, wherewith to pay the debts of those poor souls 
 who are run in arrear in point of satisfaction due for 
 their sins. Had they but fasted, prayed, labored, or 
 suffered a little more in this life, they had gone directly 
 into heaven; what they unhappily neglected we may 
 supply for them, and it will be accepted for good pay- 
 ment, as from their bails and sureties. You know, he 
 that stands surety for another takes the whole debt upvon 
 himself. This is our case ; for, the living, as it were, 
 entering bond for the dead, become responsible for their 
 
 IP 
 
 us 
 im 
 
 \'i 
 
78 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 debts, aiKl f)(Tcr up fasts for fasts, tears for tears, in the 
 same measure and proportion as tliey were liable to 
 them, and so defray tiie debt of their friends at their own 
 
 charjj^e, and make all elear, (Pp. 117, 118.) 
 
 ■;:- ■•/: x- 'A 'A * ^ 
 
 I am in love with that reli*;ious i)raetiec of Bolo<^na, 
 where, upon funeral days, they eaiisc hundreds and thou- 
 sands of Masses to be said for the soul departed, in lieu of 
 other superfluous and vain ostentations. They stay not 
 for the anniversary, nor for any other set day ; but in- 
 stantly do their best to release the poor soul from her tor- 
 ments, who must needs think the year long, if she must 
 stay for help till her anniversary day ai)pears. They do 
 not, for all this, desi)ise the laudable customs of the 
 Church ; they bury their friends with honor ; they clothe 
 j^reat numbers of poor people; they <^ive liberal alms; 
 but, as there is nothing' so certain, nothing so efficacious, 
 nothing so divine, as tlie Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, they 
 fix their whole affection there, and strive all they can to 
 relieve the souls this way ; and arc by no means so lavish, 
 as the fashion is, in other idle expenses and inopportune 
 feastings, which arc often more troublesome to the living 
 than comfortable to the dead. 
 
 But you may not only comfort the afflicted souls by 
 procuring Masses for them, nor yet only by oficring up 
 your prayers, fasts, alms-deeds, and such other works of 
 piety ; but you may bestow upon them all the good you 
 do, and all the evil you sutler, in this world. ... If 
 you offer up unto God all that causes you any grief or 
 affliction, for the present relief of the poor languishing 
 souls, you cannot believe what ease and comfort they will 
 find by it. (I'p. 123-125). 
 
 ■A % -t- ^<- * * * 
 
 The world has generally a great esteem of Monsieur 
 d'Argenton, Philip Commines ; and many worthily admire 
 him for the great wisdom and sincerity he has labored to 
 express in his whole history. But, for my part, I com- 
 mend him for nothing more than for the prudent care he 
 
DOCTRINAL AND UKVOTIONAL. 
 
 79 
 
 took licrc for tlio wflfarc of Iiis own soul in the otiicr 
 world. For, luiv inj^ built, a {j^oodlv clKi|)t'l at the Aui^ais- 
 tinians in I'aris, and left tlicni a <;<)od foundation, he tied 
 them to this perpetual obliLcation, that they should no 
 sooner rise from table, but they should be sure to pray 
 for the rest of this preeious soul. And he ordered it thus, 
 by his express will, that one of the relij^ious should first 
 say aloud: "Let us ])niy for the soul of Monsieur d'Ar- 
 genton;" and tlien all should instantly say the i)sahn Jh' 
 Profundis. Gerson lost not his labor when he took such 
 pains to teaeh little ehildren to repeat often these words: 
 " My God, my Creator, have pity on Thy poor servant, 
 Jolin Gerson." For these innoecnt souls, all the wliile 
 the j^ood man was dyin<;-, and after he was dead, went up 
 and down the town with a mournful voice, sinL;;-in^ the 
 short lesson he had taui^ht them, and comforting his dear 
 soul with their innocent prayers. 
 
 Now, as I must commend their prudence who thus 
 wisely cast about how to provide for their own soids, 
 against they come into Purgatory, so I cannot but more 
 highly magnify their charity, who, Icsssolicitouii for them- 
 selves, employ their whole care to save others out of that 
 dreadful fire. And sure I am, they can lose nothing by 
 the bargain, who dare thus trust God with their own 
 souls, while they do their uttermost to helj) others; nay, 
 though they should follow that imi)aralleled example of 
 Father Hernando de Monsoy, of the Society of Jesus, 
 who, not content to give away all he could from himself 
 to the poor souls, while he lived, made them his heirs after 
 death ; and, by express will, bequeathed them all the 
 Masses, rosaries, and whatsoever else should be offered 
 for him by his friends upon earth. (Pp. 131-132.) 
 
 * 
 
 -* 
 
 It will not be amiss here to resolve you certain pertinent 
 questions. Whether the suffrages we offer up unto God 
 shall really avail them for whom we offer them ; and 
 whether they alone, or others also, may receive benefit by 
 them ? Whether it be better to pray for a few at once, or 
 
 .-! 
 
 }i 
 
 It 
 
 e, 
 c, 
 ar 
 us 
 im 
 
 ^\ 
 
'ii 
 
 f 
 
 t 
 
 I 
 
 l- 1. 
 
 80 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 for many, or for all the souls together, and for what souls 
 in particular? 
 
 To the lirst I answer : if your intention be to help any 
 one in particular who is really in Purgatory, so your work 
 be good, it is infallibly applied to the person upon whom 
 you bestow it. For, as divines teach, it is the intention 
 of the offerer which governs all ; and God, of His infinite 
 goodness, accommodates Himself to the petitioner's re- 
 quest, applying unto each one what has been offered for 
 its relief. If you have nobody in your thoughts for whom 
 you offer up your prayers, they are only beneficial to 
 youiself; and what would be thus lost for want of appli- 
 cation, God lays up in the treasury of the Church, as 
 being a kind of spiritual waif or stray, to which nobody 
 can lav any just claim. And, since it is the intention 
 which ntitles one to what is offered before all others, 
 what right can others pretend to it ; or with what justice 
 can it be parted or divided amongst others, who were 
 never thought of? 
 
 And hence I take my starting-point to resolve your 
 other question— that if you regard their best advantage 
 whom you have a mind to favor, you had better pray for 
 a few than for many together; for, since the merit of your 
 devotions is but limited, and often in a very small propor- 
 tion, the more you divide and subdivide it amongst many, 
 the lesser share comes to every one in particular. As if 
 you should distribute a crown or an angel ' amongst a 
 thousand poor people, you easily see your alms would 
 be so inconsiderable, they would be little better for it ; 
 wdiereas, if it were all bestowed upon one or two, it were 
 enough to make them think themselves rich. 
 
 N(^w, to define precisely, whether it be always better 
 done, to help one or two souls efficaciously, than to yield 
 a little comfort to a great many, is a question I leave for 
 you to exercise your wits in. I could fancy it to be your 
 
 ' A gold coin of that period so called because it was stamped with the 
 image of an angel. 
 
 best c 
 
 some 
 
 her u] 
 
 favors 
 
 genen 
 
 fear e 
 
 bestov 
 
 And ^ 
 
 since i 
 
 charitj 
 
 their \ 
 
 dispose 
 
 to then 
 
 fellows 
 
 heaven 
 
 her haf 
 
 truly sa 
 
 but the 
 
 fort anc 
 
 It wo 
 
 who ne 
 
 only chr 
 
 testamei 
 
 be realli 
 
 and ncv 
 
 And yet 
 
 part, apj 
 
 down fo] 
 
 are ther 
 
 rigorous 
 
 and exai 
 
 the law ] 
 
 another's 
 
 kind of 1 
 
 fault lies 
 
 the least 
 
 justice, bi 
 
II1»J>..- . 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 8i 
 
 best course to do both ; that is, sometimes to single out 
 some particular soul, and to use all your powers to lift 
 her up to heaven ; sometimes, again, to parcel out your 
 favors upon many ; and, now and then, also to deal out a 
 general alms upon all Purgatory. And 3'ou need not 
 fear exceeding in this way of charity, whatsoever you 
 bestow ; for you may be sure nothing will be lost by it. 
 And St. Thomas will tell you, for your comfort, that 
 since all the souls in Purgatory are perfectly united in 
 charity, they rejoice exceedingly when they see any of 
 their whole number receive such powerful helps as to 
 dispose her for heaven. They every one take it as done 
 to themselves, whatsoever is bestowed upon any of their 
 fellows, whom they love as themselves ; and, out of a 
 heavenly kind of courtesy, and singular love, they joy in 
 her happiness, as if it were their own. So that it may be 
 truly said, that you never pray for one or more of them, 
 but they are all partakers, and receive a particular com- 
 fort and satisfaction by it. (Pp. 132-134.) 
 
 ■Y: -X- * •» * * * 
 
 It would go hard with many, were it true that a person 
 who neglected to make restitution in his life-time, and 
 only charged his heirs to do it for him in his last will and 
 testament, vshall not stir out of Purgatory till restitution 
 be really made ; let there be never so many Masses said, 
 and never so many satisfactory works offered up for him. 
 And yet St. Bridget, whose revelations are, for the most 
 part, approved by the Church, hesitates not to set this 
 down for a truth which God had revealed unto her. Nor 
 are there wanting grave divines that countenance this 
 rigorous position, and bring for it many strong reasons 
 and examples, which they take to be authentical : and 
 the law itself, which says that if a man do not restore 
 another's goods, there will always stick upon the soul a 
 kind of blemish, or (obligation of justice. And since the 
 fault lies wholly at his door, he cannou, say they, have 
 the least reason to complain of the severity of God's 
 justice, but must accuse his own coldness and extreme 
 
 i 
 
 t5 "i 
 
82 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 neglect of his own welfare. Nay, even (hose that are of 
 the contrary persuasion, yet maintain that it is not only 
 much more secure, but far more meritorious, to satisfy 
 such obligations while we live, than to trust others with 
 it, let them be never so near and dear to us. . . . (Pp. 
 140,141.) 
 
 * * * * ^- * * 
 
 . . . , I have just cause to fear that all I can say 
 to you will hardly suffice to mollify that hard heart of 
 yours ; and, therefore, my last refuge shall be to set 
 others on, though I call them out of the other world. 
 
 And first, let a damned soul read you a lecture, and 
 teach you the compassion you ought to bear to your 
 afflicted brethren. Remember how the rich glutton in 
 the Gospel, although he was buried in hell-fire, took care 
 for his brothers who survived him ; and besought Abra- 
 ham to send Lazarus back into the world, to preach and 
 convert them, lest they should be so miserable as to come 
 into that place of torments. A strange request for a 
 damned soul! and which may shame you, that are so 
 little concerned for the souls of your brethren, who are 
 in so restless a condition. 
 
 In the next place, I will bring in the soul of your dear 
 father, or mother, to make her own just complaints 
 against you. Lend her, then, a dutiful and attentive ear; 
 and let none of her words be lost ; for she deserN'cs to be 
 heard out, while she sets forth the state of her most 
 lamentable condition. Peace! it is a holy soul, though 
 clothed in flames, that directs her speech to you after 
 this manner : 
 
 " Am I not the most unfortunate and wretched parent 
 that ever lived ? I that was so silly as to presume that 
 having ventured my life, and my vcr}'- soul also, to leave 
 my children at their ease, they would at least have had 
 some pity on me, and endeavor to procure for me some 
 ease and comfort in my torments. Alas ! I burn insuffer- 
 ably, I suffer infinitely, and have done so, I know not 
 how long ; and yet this is not the only thing that grieves 
 
 me. 
 niys( 
 sligh 
 care 
 a Ma 
 say, ; 
 own 
 and t( 
 Who 
 my vc 
 vexati 
 nic wl 
 are so 
 willing 
 and til 
 ctcrnnl 
 these d 
 com fori 
 the tho 
 miseraL 
 singing 
 
 "vvherea; 
 torment 
 be Iook( 
 whom 
 this wl 
 thus to : 
 my chile 
 blame a 
 the causi 
 in the g 
 trusted 1 
 siglit of 
 all the m 
 Did I no 
 the only 
 in the n 
 to be libe 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 83 
 
 mc. Alas, no ! it i:, a greater vexation to nic to sec 
 myself so soon Ibrgotten by my own children, and so 
 sliglited by them, ior whom i have in vain taken so much 
 care and pains. Ah, dost thou grudge thy poor mother 
 a Mass, a slight alms, a sigh, or a tear? Th}- mother, i 
 say, who would most willingly have kept bread from her 
 own mouth, to make thee swim in an ocean of delights, 
 and to abound with plenty of all worldly goods ? . . . 
 Who will not refuse me comfort, when my own children, 
 my very bowels, do their best to forget me? What a 
 vexation is it to mc, when my companions in misery ask 
 mc whether I left no children bchiiid me, and why they 
 are so hard-hearted as to neglect me ? .... 1 was 
 willing to forget my owui concerns t(3 be careful of theirs ; 
 and those ungrateful ones have now buried me in an 
 eternnl oblivion, and clearly left me to shift for myself in 
 these dread tortures, without giving me the least ease or 
 comfort. Oh, what a fool was I ! had I given to the poor 
 the thousandth part of those goods which I left these 
 miserable children, I had long before this been joyfully 
 singing the praises of my Creator, in the choir of Angels ; 
 whereas now I lie panting and groaning under excessive 
 torments, and am like still to lie, for any relief that is to 
 be looked for from these undutiful, ungracious children 
 whom I made my sole heirs. . . . But am I not all 
 this while strangely transported, miserable that I am, 
 thus to amuse myself with unprofitable complaints against 
 my children ; whereas, indeed, I have but j,nvd\\ reason to 
 blame any but myself? since it is I, and only 1, that am 
 the cause of all this mischief. For did not I know that 
 in the grand business of saving my soid, 1 was to have 
 trusted none but myself? did I not know that with the 
 sight of their friends, at their departure, men used to lose 
 all the memory and friendship they had for them? .... 
 Did I not know that God Himself had foretold us, that 
 the only ready way to build ourselves eternal tabernacles 
 in the next world, is not to give all to our children, but 
 to be liberal to the poor? .... I cannot deny, then, 
 
 n 
 
 •1 
 
 f 
 
 •ii m 
 
1 1 
 
 f 
 
 I 
 
 84 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 but the fault lies at my door, and that I am deservedly 
 thus neglected by my children. . . . The only com- 
 fort I have left me in all my afflictions, is, that others will 
 learn at my cost this clear maxim : noi to leave to others 
 a matter of such near concern as the ease and repose of 
 their own souls ; but to provide for them carefully them- 
 selves. O God ! how dearly have I bought this experi- 
 ence ; to see my fault irreparable, and my misery without 
 redress ! " (Pp. 146-149.) 
 
 * '^ * * * * * 
 
 One must have a heart of steel, or no heart at all, to 
 hear these sad regrets, and not feel some tenderness for 
 the poor souls, and as great an indignation against those 
 who are so little concerned for the souls of their parents 
 and other near relations. I wish, with all my soul, that 
 all those who shall light upon this passage, and hear the 
 soul so bitterlv deplore her misfortune, may but benefit 
 themselves half as j-^uch by it as a good prelate did when 
 the soul of Pope Benedict VIII., by God's permission, 
 revealed unto him her lamentable state in Purgatory.^ 
 For so the story goes, which is not to be questioned : This 
 Pope Benedict appears to the Bishop of Capua, and con- 
 jures him to go to his brother. Pope John, who succeeded 
 him in the Chair of St. Peter, and to beseech him, for 
 God's sake, to give great store of alms to poor people, 
 to allay the fury of the lire of Purgatory, with which 
 he found himself highly tormented. He further charges 
 him to let the Pope know withal, that he did acknowledge 
 liberal alms had already bc< n distributed for that pur- 
 pose ; but liad found no case at all by it, because all the 
 money that had been then bestowed was acquired un- 
 justly, and so had no power to prevail before the just 
 tribunal of (rod for the obtaining of the least mercy. The 
 good Bishop, upon this, makes haste to the Pope, and 
 faithfully relates the whole conference that had passed 
 between him and the sou^ of his predecessor ; and with a 
 
 ' RTroniiis, ,///. '024. 
 
 
 i 
 
 \ 
 
 P' 
 
I 
 
 if 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 85 
 
 grave voice and lively accent enforces the necessity and 
 importance of the business; that, in truth, when a soul 
 lies a burning, it is in vain to dispute idle questions; the 
 best course, then, is to run instantly for water, and to 
 throw it on with both hands, calling for all the help and 
 assistance we can, to relieve her ; and that His Holiness 
 should soon see the truth of the vision, by the wonderful 
 efl'ects which were like to follow. All this he delivers so 
 gravely, and so to the purpose, that the Pope resolves 
 out of hand to give in charity vast sumr, out of his own 
 certain and unquestionable revenue ; whereby the soul of 
 Pope Benedict was not only wonderful W comforted, but, 
 questionless, soon released of her to. s. In conclu- 
 
 sion, the good Bishop, having well reflected with himself 
 in what a miserable condition he had seen the soul of a 
 Pope who had the repute of a Saint, and was really so, 
 worked so powerfully with him, that, quitting his mitre, 
 crosier, bishopric, and all worldly greatness, he shut 
 himself up in a monastery, and there made a holy end ; 
 choosing rather to have his Purgatory in the austerity 
 of a cloister than in the flames of the Church suffering. 
 (Pp. 150, 151.) 
 
 ^■t vV % ¥: * vl- %%- 
 
 I wish, again, they would in this but follow the example 
 of King Louis of France, who was son to Louis the Em- 
 peror, surnamed the Pious. For they tell us ' that this Em- 
 peror, after he had been thirty-three years in Purgatory, 
 not so much for any personal crimes or misdemeanors of 
 his <»wn as for permitting certain disorders in his em- 
 pire, which he ought to have prevented, was at length per- 
 mitted to show himself to King Louis, his son, and to beg 
 his lavorable assistance ; and that the king did not only 
 most readily grant him his request, procuring Masses to 
 be said in all the monasteries of his realm for the soul of 
 his deceased father, but drew thence many good reflec- 
 tions and profitable instructions, which served him all his 
 
 ' Baronius, An. 874, 
 
 lil 
 
86 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 lifc-timc after. Do you the same ; and believe It, though 
 Purgatory fire is a kind of baptism, and is so styled by 
 some of the holy Fathers, because it cleanses a soul from 
 all the dross of sin, and makes it worthy to see (jod, yet 
 is it your sweetest course, here to ba])tize yourself frc- 
 .^uently in the tears of contrition, which have a miglity 
 power to cleanse away all the blemishes of sin ; and so 
 prevent in your own person, and extinguish in others, 
 those l)aj)tismal flames of Purgatory fire, which are so 
 
 dreadful. (Pp. 151, 152.) 
 
 % -::• V: * % * ¥t 
 
 What shall I say of those other nations, whose natural 
 piety led them to place burning lamps at the sepulchres 
 of the dead, and strew them over with sweet flowers and 
 odoriferous perfumes.^ Do they not put Christians in 
 mind vo remember the dead, and to cast after them the 
 sweet incense of their devout sighs and prayers, and the 
 perfumes of their alms-deeds, and other good works? 
 
 It was very usual with the old Romans to shed whole 
 floods of tears, to reserve them in phial-glasses, and to 
 bury them with the urns, in which the ashes of their 
 dead friends were carefully laid up ; and by them to set 
 lamps, so artificially composed as to burn without end. 
 By which symbols they would give us to understand, 
 that neither their love nor their grief should ever die ; 
 but that they would always be sure to have tears in their 
 eyes, love in their hearts, and a constant memory in their 
 souls for their deceased friends. . . . 
 
 They liad another custom, not only in Rome, but else- 
 where, to walk about tlie burning pile where the corpse 
 lay, and, with their mournful lamentations, tr keep time 
 with the doleful sound of their trumpets ; and still, every 
 turn, to cast into the firt; some precious pledge of their 
 friendship. The women themselves would not stick to 
 throw in their rings, bracelets, and other costly attires, 
 nay, their very hair also, the chief ornament of their sex ; 
 
 ' Herod, lib. 2. 
 
 i 
 
 'Epist. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 87 
 
 and they would have been sometimes wilHng to have 
 thrown in both their eyes, and their hearts too. Nor 
 were there some uantin*^, that in earnest tlirew them- 
 selves into the lire, to be eonsnmed with their dear 
 spouses ; so that it was found necessary to make a severe 
 law against it ; such was the tenderness that they had for 
 their deceased friends, such was the excess of a mere 
 natural affection. Now, our love is infused iVom Heaven ; 
 it is supernatural, and consequently ought to be more 
 active and powerful to stir up our compassion for the 
 souls departed ; and yet we see the coldness of Christians 
 in this particular ; how few there are who make it their 
 business to help poor souls out of their tormenting flames. 
 It is not necessary to make laws to hinder any excess in 
 this article ; it were rather to be wished that a law were 
 provided to punish all such ungrateful persons as forgot 
 the duty they owe to their dead parents, and all the obli- 
 gations they have to the rest of their friends. (Pp. 156- 
 158.) 
 
 -jt ■» * « -jt -x- * 
 
 It is a pleasure to observe the constant devotion of the 
 Church of Christ in all ages, to pray for the dead. And 
 first, to take my rise from the Apostles' time, there are 
 many learned interpreters, who hold that baptism for the 
 dead, of which the Apostle speaks, ' to be meant only of 
 the much fasting, prayer, alms-dends, and other voluntary 
 afflictions, which the first Christians undertook for the 
 relief of their deceased friends. But I need not fetch in 
 obscure places tc) prove so clear an Apostolical and early 
 custom in God's Church. 
 
 You may see a set form of prnyer for the dead pre- 
 scribed in all the ancient liturgies of the Apostles." Be- 
 sides, St. Clement'' tells us, it was one of the chief heads 
 of St. Peter's sermons, to be daily inculcating to the peo- 
 ple this devotion of praying for the dead ; and wSt. Denis ' 
 sets down at large the solemn ceremonies and prayers, 
 
 ' Cor. XV. 29. ^ Liturgia utrinquc, S. Jacoln, S. Math., S. Marci, S. Clem. 
 ^Epist. I. ■» S. Dion. Ecdcs. Ilur. C. 7. 
 
 i I 
 
88 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I' 
 
 which were then used at funerals ; and receives them no 
 otherwise than as Apostolical traditions, grounded u])on 
 the Word of God. And certainly, it would have done 
 you good to have seen with what gravity and devotion 
 that venerable prelate performed the divine ofhce and 
 prayer for the dead, and what an ocean of tears he drew 
 from the eyes of all that were present. 
 
 Let TertuUian ' speak for the next age. He tells us how 
 carefully devout people in his time kept the anniversaries 
 of the dead, and made their constant oblations for the 
 sweet rest of their souls. " Here it is," says this grave 
 author, *' that the widow makes it appear whether or no 
 she had any true love for her husband ; if she continue 
 yearly to do her best for the comfort of his soul." . . . 
 Let your first care be, to ransom him out of Purgatory, 
 and when you have once placed him in the empyrean 
 heaven, he will be sure to take care for you and yours. 
 I know your excuse is, that having procured for him the 
 accustomed services of the Church, you need do no more 
 for him ; for you verily believe he is already in a blessed 
 state. But this is rather a poor shift to excuse your own 
 sloth and laziness, than that you believe it to be so in 
 good earnest. For there is no man, says () ugen, but the 
 Son of God, can guess how long, or how many ages, a 
 soul may stand in need of the purgation of fire. Mark 
 the word ages ; he seems to believe that a soul may, for 
 whole ages — that is, for so many hundred years— be con- 
 fined to this fiery lake, if she be wholly left to herself and 
 her own sufferings. 
 
 It was not without confidence, says Eusebius, of reap- 
 ing more fruit from the prayers of the faithful, that the 
 honor of our nation, and the first Christian Emperor, 
 Constantine the Great, took such care to be buried in the 
 Church of the Apostles, whither all sorts of devout peo- 
 ple resorting to perform their devotions to God and His 
 Saints, would be sure to remember so good an emperor. 
 
 'Tertull. De cor. mil. c. 3; De moiwgant, c. 10. 
 
 Nor 
 
 the s 
 
 ers \\ 
 
 St. 
 
 press 
 
 in 1^ 
 
 whici 
 
 tlie sv 
 
 ing in 
 
 for jo 
 
 earth ; 
 
 ceedin 
 
 We 
 
 crown: 
 
 dead ; 
 
 Avho w 
 
 offer H 
 
 Sacrific 
 
 reconci 
 
 St. I 
 
 damnal 
 
 to pray 
 
 them, 
 
 St. A 
 Theodo 
 fession 
 till he ]] 
 to the 
 called b 
 ing. H 
 peror V, 
 brother 
 tears, p 
 never ^'1 
 Will 
 
 a 
 
 ' St. Aui 
 elsewhere i 
 of liis iiioti 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 89 
 
 Nor did he fail of his expectation; for it is incredible, as 
 the same author observes, what a world of sighs and i)ray- 
 ers were oflered up for him upon tliis occasion. 
 
 St. Athanasius' brings an elegant comparison to ex- 
 press the incomparable benefit which accrues to the souls 
 in Purgatory by our ])rayers. As the wine, says he, 
 which is locked up in the cellar, yet is so recreated with 
 the sweet odor of the flourishing vines which are grow- 
 ing in the fields, as to ilower afresh, and leap, as it were, 
 for joy, so the souls that are shut up in the centre of the 
 earth feel the sweet incense of our prayers, and are ex- 
 ceedingly comforted and refreshed by it. 
 
 We do not busy ourselves, says St. Cyril, with i)lacing 
 crowns or strewing ilowers at the sepulchres of the 
 dead ; but we lay hold on Christ, the very Son of Gcxl, 
 who was sacrificed upon the Cross ft)r our sins : and wc 
 offer Him up again to His Eternal Father in the dread 
 Sacrifice of the Mass, as the most efficacious means to 
 reconcile Him, not only to ourselves, but to them also. 
 
 St. Epiphanius stuck not to condemn Arius for this 
 damnable heresy amongst others, that he held it in vain 
 to pray for the dead : as if our prayers could not avail 
 them, 
 
 St. Ambrose prayed heartily for the good Emperor 
 Theodosius as soon as he was dead, and made open pro- 
 fession that he would never give over praying for him 
 till he had, by his prayers and tears, conveyed him safe 
 to the holy mountain of Our Lord, whither he was 
 called by his merits, and where there is true life everlast- 
 ing. He had the same kindness for the soul of the Em- 
 peror Valentinian, the same for Gratian, the same for his 
 brother Satyrus and others. He promised them Masses, 
 tears, prayers, and that he would never forget them, 
 never give over doing charitable offices for them. . . . 
 
 '* Will you honor your dead?" says St. John Chr3^sos- 
 
 ' St. Augustine's views on this subject may be seen from the extract 
 elsewhere given, from his " Confessions," on the occasion of the death 
 of his mother, St. Monica. 
 
 1 
 
 i ! 
 
 > ! i 
 
 I 1 * 
 
90 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 torn ; " do not sprnd yourselves in unprofitable lamen- 
 tations ; choose rather to sini^ psahns, to give ahiis, and 
 to lead holy lives. Do tor them that whicii tiiey would 
 willins^ly do lor themselves, were they to return a<^ain 
 into the world, and (iod will accept it at your hands, as 
 it' it came iVom them." (i'p. 162-166.) 
 
 St. i'aulinus, that charitable prelate who sold himself 
 to redeem others, could not but have a <^reat i)roi)()rti()n 
 of charity tor captive souls in the other world. No; he 
 was not only ready to become a slave himself to ])urchasc 
 their treedom, but he became an earnest solicitor to 
 others in their behalf; for, in a letter to Delphinus, 
 alludini^ to the story of Lazarus, he beseeches him to 
 have at least so much compassion as to convey, now and 
 then, a drop of water wherewith to cool the tong^ues of 
 poor souls that lie burning in the Church which is all 
 a-hre. 
 
 I am astonished when I call to mind the sad regrets of 
 the people of Africa w^hen they saw some of their priests 
 dragged away to martyrdom. The author says they 
 flocked about them in great numbers and cried out : 
 "Alas! if you leave us so, what will become of us? 
 Who must give us absolution for our sins ? Who must 
 bury us with the wonted ceremonies of the Church when 
 wc are dead ? and who will take care to pray for our 
 souls?" Such a general belief they had in those days, 
 that nothing is more to be desired in this world than to 
 leave those behind us who will do their best to help us 
 out of our torments. (I^p. 167-8.) 
 
 Almighty God has often miraculousl}- made it appear 
 how well He is pleased to be importuned by us in the 
 souls* behalf, and what comfort they receive by our 
 prayers. St. John Climacus writes/ that while the monks 
 were at service, praying for their good father, Mennas, 
 the third day after his departure, they felt a marvellous 
 sweet smell to rise out of his grave, which they took for 
 
 ' In 4, gradu scalic. 
 
DOCTRINAT, AND DK VOTIONAI- 
 
 91 
 
 a j^oocl omen that liis sweet soul, alter three days' purjj^a- 
 tion, had taken her Hij^lit into heaven. For what else eould 
 be meant by that sweet perfume but tlie odi^r ot his liolv 
 and innocent conversation, or the incense oi their sacri- 
 fices and prayers, or the primitial fruits of his happy soul, 
 which was now llown up to the holy mountain of eternal 
 glory, there enjoyin*^ the odoriferous and never-fading 
 delii^hts of Paradise? 
 
 Not unlike unto this is that story which the great St. 
 Gregory relates of one Justus, a monk.' He had given 
 him up at first for a lost creature ; l)ut, upon second 
 thoughts, having ordered Mass to be said for him for 
 thirty days together, the last day he ai)peared to his 
 brother and assured him of the happy exchange he was 
 now going to make of his torments for the joys of heaven. 
 
 Pope Symmachus and his Council- had reason to 
 thunder out anathemas against those sacrilegious jicrsons 
 who were so frontless as to turn pious legacies into pro- 
 fane uses, to the great prejudice of the souls for whose 
 repose they were i)articularly deputed by the founders. 
 And, certainly, it is a much fouler crime to defraud souls 
 of their due relief than to disturb dead men's ashes and to 
 plunder their graves. (Pp. 168-9.) 
 
 St. Isidore delivers it as an apostolic tradition and 
 general practice of the Catholic Church in his time, to 
 offer up sacrifices and prayers, and to flistribute alms for 
 the dead ; and this, not for any increase of their merit, 
 but either to mitigate their pains or to shorten the time 
 of their durance. 
 
 Venerable Bedc is a sure witness for the fr)llowing 
 century ; whose learned works arc full of wonderful 
 stories, which he brings in confirmtition of this Catholic 
 doctrine and practice. 
 
 vSt. John Damascene made an elegant oration on pur- 
 pose to stir up this devotion ; where, amongst other 
 things, he says it is impossible to number up all the 
 stories in this kind which bear witness that the souls de- 
 
 ' Dial. c. 55, lib. 4. * 6 Synod., Rom. 
 
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92 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 parted arc relieved by our prayers ; and that, otherwise, 
 God would not have appointed a commemoration of the 
 dead to be daily made in the unbloody Sacrifice of the 
 Mass, nor would the Church have so religiously ob- 
 served anniversaries and other days set apart for the 
 service of the dead. 
 
 Were it but a dog, says Simon IVIetaphrastes, that by 
 chance were fallen into the fire, we should have so much 
 compassion for him as to help him out ; and what shall 
 we do for souls who are fallen into Purgatory fire? I say, 
 souls of our parents and dearest friends ; souls that are 
 predestinate to eternal glory, and extremely precious in 
 the sight of God ? And what did not the Saints of God's 
 Church for them in those days ? Some armed themselves 
 from head to foot in coarse hair-cloth ; others tore off 
 their flesh with chains and rude disciplines ; some, again, 
 pined themselves with rigorous fasts ; others dissolved 
 themselves into tears ; some passed whole nights in con- 
 templation ; others gave liberal alms, or procured great 
 store of Masses; in fine, they did what they were able, 
 and were not well pleased that they were able to do no 
 more, to relieve the poor souls in Purgatory. Amongst 
 others, Queen Melchtild ^ is reported to have purchased 
 immortal fame for her discreet behavior at the death of 
 the king, her husband ; for whose soul she caused a world 
 of Masses to be said, and a world of alms to be distrib- 
 uted, in lieu of other idle expenses and fruitless lamen- 
 tations. 
 
 There is one in the world, to whom I bear an immortal 
 envy, and such an envy as I never mean to repent of. It 
 is the holy Abbot Odilo, who was the author of an inven- 
 tion which I would wiHingly have found out, though with 
 the loss of my very heart's blood. 
 
 Reader, take the story as it passed, thus:^ A devout 
 religious man, in his return from Jerusalem, meets with 
 a holy hermit in Sicily ; he assures him that he often 
 heard the devils complain that souls were so soon dis- 
 
 ' Luitprand, c. 4, c. 7. ^ Sigcb. in Chion. An. gg8. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 93 
 
 charged of their torments by the devout prayers of tlie 
 monks of Cluny, who never ceased to pour out their 
 prayers for them. This the good man carries to Odilo, 
 then Abb(jt of Cluny ; he praises God for His great 
 mercy in vouchsafing to hear the innocent prayers of his 
 monks ; and presently takes occasion to command all the 
 monasteries of his Order, to keep yearly the commemo- 
 ration of All Souls, next after the feast of All Saints, a 
 custom which, by degrees, grew into such credit, that the 
 Catholic Church thought fit to establish it all over the 
 Christian world ; to the incredible benefit of poor souls, 
 and singular increase of God's glory. For who can sum 
 up the infinite number of souls who have been freed out 
 of Purgatory by this invention ? or wdio can express the 
 glory wdiich accrued to this good Abbot, who thus for- 
 tunately made himself procurator-general of the suffering 
 Church, and furnished her people with such a considera- 
 ble supply of necessary relief, to alleviate the insupporta- 
 ble burthen of their sufferings ? 
 
 St. Bernard would triumph when he had to deal with 
 heretics that denied this privilege of communicating our 
 suffrages and prayers to the souls in Purgatory. And 
 with what fervor he would apply himself to this charita- 
 ble employment of relieving poor souls, may appear by 
 the care he took for good Humbertus, though he knew 
 him to have lived and died in his monastery so like a 
 Saint, that he could scarce find out the fault in him which 
 might deserve the least punishment in the other world ; 
 unless it were to have been too rigorous to himself, and 
 too careless of his health ; which in a less spiritual eye 
 than that of St. Bernard, might have passed for a great 
 virtue. But it is worth your hearing, that which he re- 
 lates of blessed St. IMalachy, who died in his very bosom. 
 This holy Bishop, as he lay asleep, hears a sister of his, 
 lately dead, making lamentable moan, that for thirty days 
 together she had not eaten so much as a bit of bread. He 
 starts up out of his sleep ; and, taking it to be more than 
 a dream, he concludes the meaning of the vision was to 
 
 ^ 
 
 \' 
 
 n 
 
 '••i 
 
94 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 In 
 
 i! 
 
 i 
 
 ['. 
 ti 
 
 f i 
 
 lii 
 
 •r 
 
 tell him, thnt just thirty clays were now past since he had 
 said Mass for her ; as probably believing she was already 
 where she had no need of his prayers. . . Howsoever, 
 this worthy prelate so ])lied his prayers after this, that he 
 soon sent his sister out of Purgatory ; and it pleased God 
 to let him see, by the daily change of her habit, how his 
 prayers had purged her by degrees, and made her fit 
 company for the Angels and Saints in heaven. For, the 
 hrst day, she was covered all over with black cypress ; 
 the next, she appeared in a mantle something whitish, but 
 a dusky color ; but the third day, she was seen all clad in 
 white, which is the proper livery of the Saints. . . . 
 
 This for St. Bernard. But I cannot let pass in silence 
 one very remarkable passage, which happened to these 
 two great servants of God. St. ]Malachy had passion- 
 ately desired to die at Clarvallis,' in the hands of the 
 devout St. Bernard ; and this, on the day immediately 
 before All Souls' Day ; and it pleased God to grant him 
 his request. It fell out, then, that while St. Bernard was 
 saying Mass for him, in the middle of Mass it was re- 
 vealed to him that St. Malachy was already glorious in 
 heaven ; whether he had gone straight out of this world, 
 or whether that part of St. Bernard's Mass had freed him 
 out of Purgatory, is uncertain ; but St. Bernard, here- 
 upon, changed his note ; for, having begun with a Re- 
 quiem, he Avent on with the Mass of a bishop and con- 
 fessor, to the great astonishment of all the standers-by. 
 
 St. Thomas of Aquin, that great champion of Purgatory, 
 gave God particular thanks at his death, for not only de- 
 livering a soul out of Purgatory, at the instance of his 
 prayers, but also permitting the same soul to be the mes- 
 senger of so good news. (Pp. 169-174.) 
 
 •» ^A * * ■%■ -/: * 
 
 And now, we are come down to the fifteenth age, where 
 the Fathers of the Council of Florence, both Greeks and 
 Latins, with one consent, declare the same faith and con- 
 stant practice of the Church, thus handed down to them 
 
 ' Clairvaux. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 95 
 
 from age to age, since Christ and His Apostles' time, as 
 we have seen : viz., that the souls in Purgatory arc not 
 only relieved, but translated into heaven, by the prayers, 
 sacrifices, alms, and other charitable works, which are 
 offered up for them according to the custom of the Cath- 
 olic Church. Nor did their posterity degenerate, or vary 
 the least, from this received doctrine, until Luther's time; 
 when the holy Council of Trent thought fit again to lay 
 down the sound doctrine of the Church, in opposition to 
 all our late sectaries. And I wish all Catholics were but 
 as forward to lend their helping hands to lift souls out of 
 Purgatory, as they are to believe they have the power to 
 do it ; and that we had not often more reason than the 
 Roman Emperor to pronounce the day lost ; since we let 
 so many days pass over our heads, and so many fair occa- 
 sions slip out of our hands, without easing, or releasing, 
 any souls out of Purgatory, when we might do it with so 
 much ease. (P. 175.) 
 
11 
 
 96 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 ON DEVOTION TO THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 FATHER FABER. 
 
 . . . Although we are mercifully freed from the 
 necessity of descending into hell to seek and promote the 
 interests of Jesus, it is far from being so with Purgatory. 
 If heaven and earth are full of the glory of God, so also 
 is that most melancholy, yet most interesting land, where 
 the prisoners of hope are detained by their ^Saviour's 
 loving justice, from the Beatific Vision; and if we can. 
 advance the interests of Jesus on earth and in heaven, I 
 may almost venture to say that we can do still more in 
 Purgatory. And what I am endeavoring to show you in 
 this treatise is, how you may help God by prayer, and the 
 practices of devotion, whatever your occupation and 
 calling may be ; and all these practices apply especially 
 to Purgatory. For although some theologians say that 
 in spite of the Holy Souls placing no obstacle in the way, 
 still the effect of prayer for them is not infallible ; never- 
 theless, it is much more certain than the effect of prayer 
 for the conversion of sinners upon earth, where it is so 
 often frustrated by their perversity and evil dispositions. 
 Anyhow, what I have wanted to show has been this: that 
 each of us, without aiming beyond our grace, without 
 austerities for which wc have not courage, without super- 
 natural gifts to which we lay no claim, may, by simple 
 affectionatencss and the practices of sound Catholic devo- 
 tion, do great things, things so great that they seem in- 
 credible, for the glory of God, the interests of Jesus, and 
 the good of souls. I should, therefore, be leaving my 
 subject very incomplete if I did not consider at some 
 length devotion to the Holy Souls in Purgatory ; and I 
 will treat, not so much of particular practices of it, which 
 are to be found in the ordinary manuals, as of tlie spirit 
 of the devotion itself. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 a 
 
 1 
 sii 
 
 o 
 
 O' 
 
 oi 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 97 
 
 #Cii 
 
 . . . . By the doctrine of the Communion oi Saints 
 and of the unity of Christ's mystical body, wc have most 
 intimate relations both of duty and affection with the 
 Cliurch Triumphant and Suffering ; and Catholic devo- 
 tion furnishes us with many appointed and approved ways 
 of discharging these duties toward them. . . . For 
 the present it is enough to say that God has given us such 
 power over the dead that they seem, as I have said be- 
 fore, to depend almost more on earth than on heaven ; 
 and surely that He has given us this power, and super- 
 natural methods of exercising it, is not the least touching 
 proof that His Blessed jNIajesty has contrived all things 
 for love. Can we not conceive the joy of the Blessed in 
 Heaven, looking down from the bosom of God and the 
 calmness of their eternal repose upon this scene of dim- 
 ness, disquietude, doubt and fear, and rejoicing in the 
 plenitude of their charity, in their vast power with the 
 Sacred Heart of Jesus, to obtain grace and blessing day 
 and night for the poor dwellers upon earth? It does not 
 distract them from God, it does not interfere with the 
 Vision, or make it waver and grow misty ; it does not 
 trouble their glory or their peace. On the contrary, it is 
 with them as with our Guardian Angels — the affectionate 
 ministries of their charity increase their own accidental 
 glory. The same joy in its measure may be ours even 
 upon earth. If we are fully possessed with this Catholic 
 devotion for the Holy Souls, we shall ne\^er be without 
 the grateful consciousness of the immense powers which 
 Jesus has given us on their behalf. We are never so like 
 Him, or so nearly imitate His tender offices, as when w^e 
 are devoutly exercising these powers. . . . Oh ! what 
 thoughts, what feelings, what love should be ours, as we, 
 like choirs of terrestrial angels, gaze down on the wide, 
 silent, sinless kingdom of sufl'ering, and then with our 
 own venturous touch wave the sceptred hand of Jesus 
 over its broad regions all richly dropping with the balsam 
 of His saving Blood ! 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 ! • 
 
 i A 
 
ti 
 
 u 
 
 98 
 
 rUKGATORY. 
 
 Oh ! how solemn and subduing' is the thought of that 
 holy kingdom, that realm of pain! There is no cry, no 
 murmur ; all is silent, silent as Jesus before His enemies. 
 We shall never know how we really love Mary till wc 
 look up to her out of those deeps, those vales of dread 
 mysterious fire. O beautiful region of the Church of 
 God. O lovely troop of the flock of jNlary ! What a 
 scene is presented to our eyes when we gaze upon that 
 consecrated empire of sinlessness and yet of keenest suf- 
 fering ! There is the beauty of those immaculate souls, 
 and then the loveliness, yea, the worshipfulness of their 
 patience, the majesty of their gifts, the dignity of their 
 solemn and chaste sufferings, the eloquence of their 
 silence; the moonlight of Mary's throne lighting up their 
 land of pain and unspecchful expectation ; the silver- 
 winged angels voyaging through the deeps of that myste- 
 rious realm ; and above all, that unseen Face of Jesus 
 which is so well remembered that it seems to be almost 
 seen ! Oh ! what a sinless purity of worship is here in 
 this liturgy of hallowed pain ! O world ! O weary, 
 clamorous, sinful world ! Who would not break away if 
 he could, like an uncaged dove, from thy perilous toils 
 and unsafe pilgrimage, and fly with joy to the lowest 
 place in that most pure, most safe, most holy land of suf- 
 fering and of sinless love ! 
 
 •> -.^ -X- * * * 'Vf 
 
 But some persons turn in anger from the thought of 
 Purgatory, as if it were not to be endured, that after 
 trying all our lives long to serve God, we should accom- 
 plish the tremendous feat of a good death, only to pass 
 from the agonies of the death-bed into fire — long, keen, 
 searching, triumpiiant, incomparable fire. Alas ! my dear 
 friends ; your anger will not help you nor alter facts. But 
 have you thought sufficiently about God ? Have you 
 tried to realize His holiness and purity in assiduous medi- 
 tation ? Is there a real divorce between you and the 
 world, which you know is God's enemy? Do you take 
 God's side? Have you wedded His interests ? Do you 
 
 «^ 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL 
 
 99 
 
 «^ 
 
 lonf^ for His glory ? Have you put sin alongside of our 
 dear Saviour's Passion, and measured tlic one by the 
 Other? Oh! if you had, Purgatory woukl but seem to 
 you the last, unexpeeted, and inexpressibly tender inven- 
 tion of an obstinate l(jve, whieh was mereifully determined 
 to save you in spite of yourself! It would be a jjerpctual 
 wonder to you, a joyous wonder, fresh every morning — 
 a wonder that would be meat and drink to your soul; 
 tiiat you, being what you are, what you know yourself to 
 be, what you may conceive God knows you to be, should 
 be saved eternally ! Remember what the suffering soul 
 said so simply, yet with such force, to Sister Francesca : 
 " Ah ! those on that side the grave little reckon how dearly 
 they will pay on this side for tlic lives they live ! " To 
 be angry because you are UAd you will go t(3 Purgatory ! 
 Silly, silly people ! Most likely it is a great false llattcry, 
 and that you will never be good enough to go there at all. 
 Why, positively, you do not recognize your own good 
 fortune when you arc told of it. And none but the 
 humble go there. I remember Maria Crocifissa was told 
 that although many of the Saints while on earth loved 
 God more than some do even in heaven, yet that the 
 greatest saint on earth was not so humble as are the souls 
 in Purgatory. I do not think I ever read anything in the 
 lives of the Saints which struck me so much as that. . 
 
 But we not only learn lessons for our own good, i^ it 
 for the good of the Holy Souls. We see that our chari- 
 table attentions toward them must be far more vigorous 
 and persevering than they have been ; for that men go 
 to Purgatory for very little matters, and remain there an 
 unexpectedly long time. But their most touching appeal 
 to us lies in their helplessness ; and our dear Lord, with 
 His usual loving arrangement, has made the extent of 
 our power to help them more than commensurate with 
 their inability to help themselves. ... St. Thomas 
 has taught us that prayer for the dead is more readily 
 accepted with God than prayer for the living. Wc can 
 offer and apply for them all the satisfactions of our 
 
lOO 
 
 rURGATOKY. 
 
 J ' 
 
 Blessed Lord. ^Ve can do vicarious penance for them. 
 We can give to them all the satisfaction of our ordinary 
 actions, and of our sufferings. We can make over to 
 them by way of suffrage, the indulgences we gain, pro- 
 vided the Church has made them applicable to the dead. 
 We can limit and direct upon them, or any one of them, 
 the intention of the Adorable Sacrifice. The Church, 
 which has no jurisdiction over them, can yet make in- 
 dulgences applicable or inapplicable to them by way of 
 suffrage ; and by means of liturgy, commemoration, in- 
 cense, holy water, and the like, can reach efficaciously to 
 them, and most of all by her device of privileged altars. 
 . . . . All that I have said hitherto has been, in- 
 directly, at least, a plea for this devotion ; but I must 
 come now to a more direct recommendation of it. 
 
 >/: 'A- % % •".<• ^- 'A- 
 
 It is not saying too much to call devotion to the Holy 
 Souls, a kind of centre in which all Catholic devotions 
 meet, and which satisfies more than any other single de- 
 votion our duties in that way ; because it is a devotion 
 all of love, and of disinterested love. If we cast an eye 
 over the chief Catholic devotions, we shall see the truth 
 of this. Take the devotion of St. Ignatius to the glory 
 of God. This, if I may dare to use such an expression 
 of Him, was the special and favorite devotion of Jesus. 
 Now, Purgatory is simply a field white for the harvest 
 of God's glory. Not a prayer can be said for the Holy 
 Souls, but God is at once glorified, both by the faith and 
 the charity of the mere prayer. Not an alleviation, how- 
 ever trifling, can befall any one of the souls, but He is 
 forthwith glorified by the honor of His Son's Precious 
 Blood, and the approach of the soul to bliss. Not a soul 
 is delivered from its trial but God is immensely glorified. 
 
 Again, what devotion is more justly dear to Christians 
 than the devotion to the Sacred Humanity of Jesus ? It 
 is rather a family of various and beautiful devotions, than 
 a devotion by itself. Yet see how they are all, as it 
 
 .. 
 
DOCTRINATi A\D .'KVOTIONAI.. 
 
 lOI 
 
 were, fulfilled, affectionately fulfilled, in devotion t(^ the 
 Holy Souls. The quicker the souls are liberated from 
 Purgatory, the more is tiie beautiful harvest of llis 
 Blessed Passion multiplied and accelerated. An early 
 harvest is a blessing, as weU as a plentiful one ; lor all 
 delay of a soul's ingress into the praise of heaven is an 
 eternal and irremediable loss of honor and glory to the 
 Sacred Humanity of Jesus. How strangely things sound 
 in the language of the Sanctuary ! yet so it is. Can the 
 Sacred Humanity be honored more than by the Adorable 
 Sacrifice of the Mass ? And here is our chief action upon 
 Purgatory. . . . 
 
 Devotion to our dearest Mother is equally compre- 
 hended in this devotion to the Holy wSouls, whether wc 
 look at her as the Mother of Jesus, and so sharing the 
 honors of His Sacred Humanity, or as Mother of mercy, 
 and so specially honored by works of mercy, or, lastly, 
 as, in a particular sense, the Queen of Purgatory, and so 
 having all manner of dear interests to be promoted in the 
 welfare and deliverance of those suffering souls. 
 
 Next to this we may rank devotion to the Holy Angels, 
 and this also is satisfied in devotion to the Holy Souls. 
 For it keeps filling the vacant thrones in the angelic 
 choirs, those unsightly gaps which the fall of Lucifer and 
 one-third of the heavenly host occasioned. It multiplies 
 the companions of the blessed spirits. They may be 
 supposed also to look with an especial interest on that 
 part of the Church which lies in Purgatory, because it is 
 already crowned with their own dear gift and ornament 
 of final perseverance, and yet it has not entered at once 
 into its inheritance as they did. Many of them also have 
 a tender personal interest in Purgatory. Thousands, 
 perhaps millions of them, are guardians to those souls, 
 and their office is not over yet. Thousands have clients 
 there who were especially devoted to them in life. Will 
 St. Raphael, who was so faithful to Tobias, be less faith- 
 ful to his clients there ? Whole choirs are interested 
 about others, either because they are finally to be aggre- 
 
 ? -li 
 
 i 
 
 MM 
 
 I . 
 
 
 f 
 
 M 
 
 ^ 
 
i 
 
 102 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 j^atcd to that choir, or because in life-time they liatl a 
 special devotion to it. xMarie Denise, ot" the Visitation, 
 used to conj.rratulate her an<^el every day on the grace 
 he had received to stand when so many around him were 
 fallinjjf. It was the only thinij she couhl know lor certain 
 of his past life. Could he nej^lect her, if by the will of 
 (iod she went to Purgatory? Again, St. Michael, as 
 l)rince of Purgatory, and Our Lady's regent, in fulhlment 
 of the dear office attributed to him by the Church in the 
 Mass for the Dead, takes as homage to himself all charity 
 to the Holy Souls ; and if it be true, that a zealous heart 
 is always a proof of a grateful one, that bold and mag- 
 nificent spirit will recompense us one day in his own 
 princely style, and perhaps within the limits of that his 
 special jurisdiction. 
 
 Neither is devotion to the vSaints without its interests 
 in this devotion for the dead. It fills them with the de- 
 lights of charity as it swells their numbers and beautifies 
 their ranks and orders. Numberless patron saints arc 
 personally interested in multitudes of souls. The affec- 
 tionate relation between their clients and themselves not 
 only subsists, but a deeper tenderness has entered into 
 it, because of the fearfiil suffering, and a livelier interest, 
 because of the accomplished victory. They see in the 
 Holy Souls their own handiwork, the fruit of their ex- 
 ample, the answer to their prayers, the success of their 
 patronage, the beautiful and finished crown of their affec- 
 tionate intercession. 
 
 * * * « * * ■%' 
 
 Another point of view from which we may look at this 
 devotion for the dead, is as a specially complete and 
 beautiful exercise of the three theological virtues of faith, 
 hope, and charity, which are the supernatural fountains 
 of our whole spiritual life. It exercises faith, because it 
 leads men not only to dwell in the unseen world, but to 
 work for it with as much energy and conviction as if it was 
 before their very eyes. Unthoughtful or ill-read persons 
 almost start sometimes at the minuteness, familiarity, 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DFA'OTIONAI.. 
 
 103 
 
 nnd assurance with wliich men talk of the unseen world, 
 as it it were the banks ot the J^hine, or the olive-yards 
 of l^rovence, the Canipajj^ua of Konie, or the crescent 
 vshores of Nai)les, some place whicii they have seen in 
 their travels, and whose ^eoj^raphical features are ever 
 in their memory, as vividly as if belore their eyes. It all 
 comes of faith, of i)rayer, of spiritual readiniLC, of knowl- 
 edge of the lives of the Saints, and of the study of 
 theoloj^y. It would he strange and sad if it wee not so. 
 Tor, what to us, either in interest or imp(>rt;ince, is the 
 world we see, to the world wc do not see? This devo- 
 tion exercises our faith also in the effects of the sacrifice 
 and sacraments, which are things we do not see, but 
 which we daily talk of in reference to the dead ar, un- 
 doubted and accompli:;hed facts. It exercises our faith 
 in the communion of wSaints to a degree which would 
 make it seem impossible to a heretic that he ever could 
 believe so wild and extravagant a creed. It acts with 
 regard to indulgences as if they were the most inevitable 
 material transactions of this world. It knows of the un- 
 seen treasure out of which they come, of the unseen keys 
 which open the treasury, of the indefinite jurisdiction 
 which places them infallibly at its disposal, of God's un- 
 revealed acceptance of them, and of the invisible w(jrk 
 they do, just as it knows of trees and clouds, of streets 
 and churches — that is, just as certainly and undoubtiMgly ; 
 though it often can give others no proof of these things, 
 nor account for them to itself. ... It exhibits the 
 same quiet faith in all those Catholic devotions which I 
 mentioned before as centering themselves in this devotion 
 for the dead. 
 
 ¥: -/f ¥t -:^ -A * % 
 
 Neither is this devotion a less heroic exercise of the 
 theological virtue of hope, the virtue so sadly wanting in 
 the spiritual life of these times. For, look what a mighty 
 edifice this devotion raises; lofty, intricate, and of mag- 
 nificent proportions, into which somehow or other all 
 creation is drawn, from the little headache we suffer up 
 
 ■• 
 
 i 1 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 iff 
 
 M 
 ■vi 
 
II 
 
 104 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 to the Sacred TTumanity of Jesus, and which has to do 
 
 even with God Himself. And upon what does all this rest, 
 
 except on a simple, child-like trust in God's fidelity, which 
 
 is the supernatural motive of hope? We hope for the 
 
 souls we help, and unbounded are the benedictions which 
 
 we hope for in their regard. We hope to find mercy 
 
 ourselves, because of our mercy ; and this hope quickens 
 
 our merits without detracting from the merit of our 
 
 charity. . . . For the state of the dead is no dream, 
 
 nor our power to help them a dream, any more than the 
 
 purity of God is a dream, or the Precious Blood a 
 
 dream. 
 
 * * vt vt * * * 
 
 As to the charity of this devotion, it dares to imitate 
 even the charity of God Himself. What is there in 
 heaven or on earth which it does not embrace, and with so 
 much facility, with so much gracefulness, as if there were 
 scarcely an effort in it, or as if self was charmed away, 
 and might not mingle to distract it ? It is an exercise oi 
 the love of God, for it is loving those whom He loves, and 
 loving them because He loves them, and to augment His 
 glory and multiply His praise. . . . To ourselves 
 also it is an exercise of charity, for it gains us friends in 
 heaven ; it earns mercy for us when we ourselves shall 
 be in Purgatory, tranqun victims, yet, oh! in what dis- 
 tress! and it augments our merits in the sight of God, 
 and so, if only we persevere, our eternal recompense 
 hereafter. Now if this tenderness for the dead is such an 
 exercise of these three theological virtues, and if, again, 
 even heroic sanctity consists principally in their exercise, 
 what store ought we not to set upon this touching and 
 beautiful devotion? 
 
 % '/: -A- ->fr * % V: 
 
 Look at that vast kingdom of Purgatory, with its em- 
 press-mother, Mary 1 All those countless throngs of souls 
 are the dear and faithful spouses of Jesus. Yet in what 
 a strange abandonment of supernatural suffering has His 
 love left them ! He longs for their deliverance ; He 
 
 •V 
 
 ■ 
 
i 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 105 
 
 yearns for them to be transferred from tliat land, per- 
 petually overclouded with pain, to the bright sunshine of 
 their heavenly home. Yet He has tied His own hands, 
 or nearly so. He gives them no more grace ; He allows 
 them no more time for penance ; He prevents them from 
 meriting ; nay, some have thought they could not pray. 
 How, then, stands the case with the souls in the suffering 
 Church? Why, it is a thing to be meditated on when 
 we have said it — they depend almost more on earth than 
 they do on heaven, almost more on us than on Him ; so 
 He has willed it on whom all depend, and without whom 
 there is no dependence, It is clear, then, that Jesus has 
 His interests there. He wants His captives released. 
 Those whom He has redeemed He now bids us redeem, 
 us whom, if there be life at all in us, He has already Him- 
 self redeemed. Every satisfaction offered up to God for 
 these suffering souls, every oblation of the Precious 
 Blood to the Eternal Father, every Mass heard, every 
 communion received, every voluntary penance under- 
 gone: the scourge, the hair-shirt, the prickly chain, every 
 indulgence gained, every jubilee whose conditions we 
 have fulfilled, every Dc Profiindis whispered, every little 
 alms doled out to the poor who are poorer than our- 
 selves, and, if they be offered for the intention of these 
 dear prisoners, the interests of Jesus are hourly for- 
 warded in Mary's Kingdom of Purgatory. . . . There 
 is no fear of overworking the glorious secretary of that 
 wide realm, the blessed Michael, Mary's subject. See 
 how men work at the pumps on ship-board when they 
 are fighting for their lives with an ugly leak. Oh ! that 
 we had the charity so to work, with the sweet instru- 
 mentality of indulgence, for the Holy Souls in Purgatory ! 
 The infinite satisfactions of Jesus are at our command, 
 and Mary's sorrows, and the Martyr's pangs, and the 
 Confessor's weary perseverance in well-doing ! Jesus will 
 not help Himself here, because He loves to see us helping 
 Him, and because He thinks our love will rejoice that He 
 still leaves us something we can do for Him. There have 
 
 
 
 iM 
 
 ■i \ 
 t '. 
 
 111 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 :,l 
 
 I. 
 
 I 
 
 
r" 
 
 1 06 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 been Saints who have devoted their whole lives to this 
 one work, mining in Purgatory ; and, to those who re- 
 flect in faith, it does not seem, after all, so strange. It is 
 a foolish comparison, simply because it is so much below 
 the mark ; but on all principles of reckoning, it is a much 
 less work to have won the battle of Waterloo, or to have 
 invented the steam-engine, than to have freed one soul 
 from Purgatory. 
 
 1 1' 
 
 (P 
 
 1 1 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 107 
 
 WHY THE SOULS IN PURGATORY ARE CALLED 
 
 "POOR" SOULS. 
 
 FATHER MULLKR, C.SS.R 
 
 1 
 
 We have just seen that the Jews believed in the doc- 
 trine of Purgatory ; we have seen that their charity lor 
 the dead was so great that the Holy Ghost could not help 
 praising them for it. Yet for all that, we may assert in 
 truth that the people of God under the Old Law were 
 not so well instructed in this doctrine as we are, nor had 
 they such powerful means to relieve the souls in Purga- 
 tory as we have. Our faith, therefore, should be more 
 lively, and our charity for the souls in Purgatory more 
 ardent and generous. 
 
 A short time ago a fervent young priest of this coun- 
 try had the following conversation with a holy Bishop on 
 his way to Rome. The Bishop said to him : '* You make 
 mementoes now and then, for friends of yours that are 
 dead — do you not ? " The young priest answered : *' Cer- 
 tainly, I do so very often." The Bishop rejoined : " So 
 did. 1, when I was a young priest. But one time I was 
 grievously ill. I was given up as about to die. I received 
 Extreme Unction and the Viaticum. It was then that 
 my whole past life, with all its failings and all its sins, 
 came before me with startling vividness. I saw how 
 much I had to atone for; and I reflected on how few 
 Masses would be said for me, and how few prayers. 
 Ever since my recovery I have most fervently offered the 
 Holy Sacrifice for the repose of the pious and patient 
 souls in Purgatory ; and I am always glad when I can, 
 as my own offering, make the * intention * of my Masses 
 for the relief of their pains." 
 
 Indeed, dear reader, no one is more deserving of Chris- 
 tian charity and sympathy than the poor souls in Purga- 
 
 ' Charity to the Holy Souls in Purgatory. 
 

 I 08 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 
 • i 
 
 tory. They are rca//j/ poor sou/s. No one is sooner for- 
 gotten than they are. 
 
 How soon their friends persuade themselves that they 
 are in perfect peace ! How little they do for their relief 
 when their bodies are buried ! There is a lavish expense 
 for the funeral. A hundred dollars are spent where the 
 means of the family hardly justify the half of it. Where 
 there is more wealth, sometimes five hundred or a thou- 
 sand, and even more, dollars are expended on the poor 
 dead body. But let me ask you what is done for the 
 foor living soul ? Perhaps the poor soul is suffering the 
 most frightful tortures in Purgatory, whilst the lifeless 
 body is laid out in state, and borne pompously to the 
 graveyard. You must not misunderstand me : it is right 
 and just to show all due respect even to the body of your 
 deceased friend, for that body was once the dwelling- 
 place of his soul. But tell me candidly, what joy has the 
 departed, and, perhaps, suffering soul, in the fine music 
 of the choir, even should the choir be composed of the 
 best singers in the country ? What consolation does the 
 poor suffering soul find in the superb coffin, in the splen- 
 did funeral ? What pleasure does the soul derive from 
 the costly marble monument, from all the honors that are 
 so freely lavished on the body ? All this may satisfy, or 
 at least seem to satisfy, the living, but it is of no avail 
 whatever to the dead. 
 
 Poor unhappy souls ! how the diminution of true Cath- 
 olic faith is visited upon you while you suffer, and those 
 that loved you in life might help you, and do not, for 
 want of knowledge or of faith ! 
 
 Poor unhappy souls ! your friends go to their business, 
 to their eating and drinking, with the foolish assurance 
 that the case cannot be hard on one they knev/ to be so 
 good ! Oh, how much and how long this false charity 
 of your friends makes you suffer! 
 
 The venerable Sister, Catherine Paluzzi, offered up, for 
 a long time, and with the utmost fervor, prayers and 
 pious works for the soul of her deceased father. At last 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 109 
 
 V S 
 
 I 
 
 V 
 
 she thought she had good reason to believe that her 
 father was already enjoying the bliss of Paradise. But 
 how great was her consternation and grief when Our 
 Lord, in company with St. Catherine, her patroness, 
 led her one day, in spirit, to Purgatory. There she be- 
 held her father in an abyss of torments, imploring her 
 assistance. At the sight of the pitiful state the soul of 
 her father was in, she melted into tears ; she cast her- 
 self at the feet of her Heavenly Spouse, and begged Him, 
 through His precious Blood, to free her father from his 
 excruciating sufferings. She also begged St. Catherine 
 to intercede for him, and then turning to Our Lord, she 
 said : ** Charge me, O Lord, with my father's indebted- 
 ness to Thy justice. In expiation of it, I am ready to 
 take upon myself all the afflictions Thou art pleased to 
 bestow upon me." Our Lord graciously accepted this 
 act of heroic charity, and released at once her father's 
 soul from Purgatory. But how heavy were the crosses 
 which she, from that time, had to suffer, may be more 
 easily imagined than described. This pious sister seemed 
 to have good reason to believe that her father's soul was 
 in Paradise. Yet she was mistaken. Alas ! how many 
 are there who resemble her ! How many are there whose 
 hope as to the condition of their deceased friends is far 
 more vain and false than that of this religious, because 
 they pray much less for the souls of their departed friends 
 than she did for her father. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 It is related in the life of St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi, 
 that one day she saw the soul of one of her deceased sis- 
 ters kneeling in adoration before the Blessed Sacrament, 
 in the church, wrapped up in a mantle of fire, and suffer- 
 ing great pains, in expiation of her neglecting to go to 
 Holy Communion on one day, when she had her confes- 
 sor's permission to communicate. 
 
 ******* 
 
 The Venerable Bede relates that it was revealed to 
 Drithelm, a great servant of God, that the souls of those 
 
 I 
 
no 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 
 Avho spend their whole lives in the state of mortal sin, and 
 arc converted only on their death-bed, are doomed to 
 suffer the pains of Purgatory to the day of the last judg- 
 ment. 
 
 In the life and revelations of St. Gertrude we read that 
 those who have committed many grievous sins, and who 
 die without having done due penance, are not assisted 
 by the ordinary suffrages of the Church until they arc 
 partly purified by Divine Justice in Purgatory. 
 
 After St. Vincent Ferrer had learned the death of his 
 sister Frances, he at once began to offer up many fervent 
 prayers and works of penance for the repose of her soul. 
 He also said thirty Masses for her, at the last of which it 
 was revealed to him that, had it not been for his prayers 
 and good works, the soul of his sister would have suffered 
 in Purgatory to the end of the world. 
 
 From these examples you may draw your own conclu- 
 sion as to the state of your deceased friends and rela- 
 tives. Rest assured that the judgments of God are very 
 different from the judgments of men. 
 
 -A- -X- * * * * * 
 
 In heaven, love for God is the happiness of the elect ; 
 but in Purgatory it is the source of the most excruciating 
 pains. It is principally for this reason that the souls in 
 Purgatory are called ''poor souls," they being, as they 
 are, in the most dreadful state of poverty — that of the 
 privation of the beatific vision of God. 
 
 After Anthony Corso, a Capuchin Brother, a man of 
 great piety and perfection, had departed this life, he ap- 
 peared to one of his brethren in religion, asking him to 
 recommend him to the charitable prayers of the com- 
 munity, in order that he might receive relief in his pains. 
 " For I do not know," said he, " how I can bear any longer 
 the pain of being deprived of the sight of my God. I 
 shall be the most unhappy of creatures as long as I must 
 live in this state. Would to God that all men might 
 understand what it is to be without God, in order that 
 they might firmly resolve to suffer anything during their 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 Ill 
 
 d 
 
 ) 
 
 life on earth rather than expose tliemselves to the danger 
 of being- damned, and deprived forever of the sight of 
 God."'' 
 
 * ^v * * ^fr * * 
 
 The souls in I'urgatory are poor souls, because they 
 suffer the greatest pain of the senses, which is that of 
 fire. Who can be in a poorer or more pitiful condition 
 than those who are buried in fire ? Now, this is the con- 
 dition of these poor souls. They are buried under waves 
 of fire. It is from the smallest spark of this purgatorial 
 fire that they suffer more intense pains than all the fires 
 of this world put together could produce. . . . 
 
 Could these poor souls leave the fire of Purgatory for 
 the most frightful earthly fire they would, as it were, take 
 it for a pleasure-garden ; they would find a fifty years' 
 stay in the -hottest earthly fire more endurable than an 
 hour's stay in the fire of Purgatory. Our terrestrial fire 
 was not created by God to torment men, but rather to 
 benefit them ; but the fire of Purgatory was created by 
 God for no other purpose than to be an instrument of 
 His justice ; and for this reason it is possessed of a burn- 
 ing quality so intense and penetrating that it is impos- 
 sible for us to conceive even the faintest idea of it. 
 
 * * * >k * * % 
 
 In the year ii 50 it happened that, on the Vigil of St. 
 Cecilia, a very old monk, one hundred years of age, at 
 Marchiennes, in Flanders, fell asleep while sacred lessons 
 were being read, and saw, in a dream, a monk all clad in 
 armor, shining like red-hot iron in a furnace. The old man 
 asked him who he was. He was told that he was one of 
 the monks of the convent ; that he was in Purgatory, and 
 had yet to endure this fiery armor for ten years more, for 
 having injured the reputation of another. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Another reason why these holy prisoners and debtors 
 to the divine justice are really poor is because they are 
 not able, in the least, to assist themselves. A sick man 
 
 ' Annal. Pp. Capuc, A.D. 1548. 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 1 
 
 v 
 
 1 ,l 
 
 ill 
 
112 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 afflicted in all his limbs, and a beggar in the most painful 
 and most destitute of conditions, has a tongue left to ask 
 for relief. At least they can implore Heaven ; it is never 
 deaf to their prayer. But the souls in Purgatory are so 
 poor that they cannot even do this. Those cases in 
 which some of them were permitted to appear to their 
 friends and ask assistance are but exceptions. To whom 
 is it they should have recourse ? Is it, perhaps, to the 
 mercy of God ? Alas ! they send forth their sighs in 
 plaintive voices. . . . But the Lord does not regard 
 their tears, nor heed their moans and cries, but answers 
 them that His justice must be satisfied to the last farthing. 
 * * ■» %i * -;& * 
 
 Oh, what cruelty ! A sick man weeps on his bed and 
 his friend consoles him ; a baby cries in his cradle and his 
 mother at once caresses him ; a beggar knocks at the door 
 for an alms and receives it ; a malefactor laments in his 
 prison, and comfort is given him ; even a dog that whines 
 at the door is taken in ; but these poor, helpless souls cry 
 day and night from the depths of the fire in Purgatory : 
 " Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you, my 
 friends, because the hand of the Lord hath smitten me ;" 
 and there is none to listen ! Oh, what great cruelty, my 
 brethren ! 
 
 But it seems to me that I hear these poor souls exclaim : 
 ** Priest of the Lord, speak no longer of our sufferings 
 and pitiable condition. Let your description of it be ever 
 so touching, it will not afford us the least relief. When a 
 man has fallen into the fire, instead of considering his 
 pains, you try at once to draw him out or quench the 
 fire with water. This is true charitv. Now, tell Chris- 
 tians to do the same for us. Tell them to give us their 
 feet, by going to hear Mass for us ; to give us their eyes, 
 by seeking an occasion to perform a good work for us ; 
 to give us their hands, by giving an alms for us, or by 
 often making an offering for the * intention ' of Masses in 
 our behalf; to give us their lips, by praying for us ; to 
 give us their tongue, by requesting others to be chari- 
 
 td 
 
 c\ 
 o| 
 aj 
 
 P 
 aj 
 
 h 
 
 ill 
 
 b 
 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 "3 
 
 tabic to us ; to give us i icir memory, by remembering us 
 constantly in their devotions ; to give us their body, by 
 offering up lor us to the Almighty all its labors, fatigues, 
 and penance." ... 
 
 We read in the Acts of the Apostles, that the faithful 
 prayed unceasingly for St. Peter when he was imprisoned, 
 and that an Angel came and broke his chains and released 
 him. We, too, should be good angels to the poor souls 
 in Purgatory, and free them from their painful captivity 
 by every means in our power. 
 
 * ^V ^ ^ V: V: V: 
 
 In the time of St. Bernard, a monk of Clairvaux 
 appeared after his death to his brethren in religion, to 
 thank them for having delivered him from Purgatory. 
 On being asked what had most contributed to free him 
 from his torments, he led the inquirer to the church, 
 where a priest was saying Mass. " Look !" said he ; 
 ** this is the means by which my deliverance has been 
 effected ; this is the power of God's mercy ; this is the 
 saving Sacrifice which taketh away the sins of the world.'' 
 Indeed, so great is the efficacy of this Sacrifice in obtain- 
 ing relief for the souls in Purgatory, that the application 
 of all the good works which have been performed from 
 the beginning of the world, would not afford r,o much 
 assistance to one of these souls as is imparted by a single 
 Mass. To illustrate : The blessed Henry Suso made an 
 agreement with one of his brethren in religion that, as 
 soon as either of them died, the survivor should say two 
 Masses every week for one year, for the repose of his 
 soul. It came to pass that the religious with whom Henry 
 had made this contract, died first. Henry prayed every 
 day for his deliverance from Purgatory, but forgot to say 
 the Masses which he had promised ; whereupon the de- 
 ceased religious appeared to him with a sad countenance, 
 and sharply rebuked him for his unfaithfulness to his 
 engagement. Henry excused himself by saying that he 
 had often prayed for him with great fervor, and had even 
 offered up for him many penitential works. " Oh, brother ! " 
 
 I s 
 
114 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 '. 
 
 i '. 
 
 exclaimed the soul, " blood, blood is necessary to give me 
 some relief and refreshment in my excruciating torments. 
 Your penitential works, severe as they are, cannot deliver 
 me. Nothing can do this but the blood of Jesus Christ, 
 which is offered up in the Sacrifice of the Mass. Masses, 
 Masses — these arc what I need ! " 
 
 "< * -x- ■/; * 4t it 
 
 Another means to relieve the souls in Purgatory is to 
 gain indulgences for them. A very pious nun had just 
 died in the convent in which St. Mary Magdalen of Pazzi 
 lived. Whilst her corpse was exposed in the church, the 
 Saint looked lovingly upon it, and prayed fervently that 
 the soul of her sister might soon enter into eternal rest. 
 Whilst she was thus wrapt in prayer her sister appeared 
 to her, surrounded by great splendor and radiance, in the 
 act of ascending into heaven. The Saint, on seeing this, 
 could not refrain from calling out to her : " Farewell, dear 
 sister ! When you meet your Heavenly Spouse, remember 
 us who arc still sighing for Him in this vale of tears ! " 
 At these words our Lord Himself appeared, and revealed 
 to her that this sister had entered heaven so soon on 
 account of the indulgences gained for her.^ 
 
 Very many plenary indulgences can be gained for the 
 souls in Purgatory, if you make the Stations of the Cross. 
 The merit of this exercise, if applied to these souls, obtains 
 great relief for them. We read in the life of Catherine 
 Emmerich, a very pious Augustinian nun, that the souls 
 in Purgatory often came to her during the night, and 
 requested her to rise and make the Stations for their 
 relief. It is also related in the life of the venerable Mary 
 of Antigua, that a deceased sister of her convent appeared 
 to her and said : " Why do you not make the Stations of 
 the Way of the Cross for iiie?" Whilst the servant of 
 the Lord felt surprised and astonished at these words, 
 Jesus Christ Himself spoke to her, thus: "The exercise 
 of the Stations is of the greatest advantage to the souls 
 in Purgatory ; so much so that this soul has been per- 
 
 ' Vita S. Magd. de Pazzi, L. I., chap, xxxix. 
 
 «i 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 115 
 
 mittcd by Mc, to ask of 3011 its performance in behalf of 
 thcni all. Your frequent performance of this exercise to 
 procure relief for these souls has induced them to hold 
 intercourse with you, and you shall have them for so 
 many intercessors and ))rotectors before My justice. Tell 
 your sisters to rejoice at these treasures, and the splendid 
 capital which they have in them, that they may j^row rich 
 upon it." 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 After St. Ludi^ardc had offered up many fervent 
 prayers for the repose of the soul of her deceased friend 
 Simeon, Abbot of the monastery of Toniac, Our Lord 
 appeared to her, sayinj^ : " Be consoled, My daughter ; 
 on account of thy prayers, I will soon release this soul 
 from Purgatory." " O Jesus, Lord and Master of my 
 heart ! " she rejoined, " 1 cannot feel consoled so long as 
 I know that the soul of my friend is suffering so much in 
 the Purgatorial fire. Oh ! I cannot help shedding most 
 bitter tears until Thou hast released this soul from its 
 sufferings." Touched and overcome by this fervent 
 prayer, Our Lord released the soul of Simeon, who ap- 
 peared to Ludgarde all radiant with heavenly glory, and 
 thanked her for the many fervent prayers which she had 
 offered up for his delivery. He also told the Saint that, 
 had it not been ff)r her fervent prayers, he should have 
 been obliged to stay in Purgatory for eleven years. . . . 
 
 Peter, the venerable Abbot of Cluny, relates an evtnt 
 somewhat similar. There was a monk at Cluny, named 
 Bernard Savinellus. One night as he was returning to 
 the dormitory, he met Stephen, commonly called Blancus, 
 Abbot of St. Giles, who had departed this life a few days 
 before. At first, not knowing him, he was passing on, 
 till he spoke, and asked him whither he was hastening. 
 Bernard, astonished and angry that a monk should speak, 
 contrary to the rules, in the nocturnal hours, and in a 
 place where it was not permitted, made signs to him to 
 hold his peace ; but as the dead abbot replied, and urged 
 him to speak, the other, raising his head, asked in amaze- 
 
 M 
 
ii6 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 mcnt who he might be. lie was answered, "I am 
 Stephen, the Alihot ot" St. Giles, who have lortnerly com- 
 mitted many laults in the Abbey, for wiiich I now suffer 
 pains; and I beseech you to ini[)l()re tlie lord Abbot, and 
 other brethren, to pray for me, tiuit by the inefl'able mercy 
 of God, I may be delivered." Bernard re[)lie(l tiuit he 
 would do so, but added tliat he thourjht no one would 
 believe his report ; to whicii the dead man answered, " In 
 order, then, that no one may doubt, you may assure them 
 that within eii^iit days you will die;" he then disappeared. 
 The monk, returning to the church, spent the remainder 
 of the night in prayer and meditation. When it was day, 
 he related his vision to St. Hugo, who was then abbot. 
 As is natural, some believed his account, and others 
 thougiit it was some delusion. The next day the monk 
 fell sick, and continued growing worse, constantly afhrm- 
 ing the truth of what he had related, till his death, which 
 occurred witiiin the time specified. 
 
 •X- •» Vt * * •» % 
 
 Besides prayer and other acts of devotion we can offer 
 up for the poor souls, we may especially reckon n/uis- 
 dccds ; for since this is a work of mercy, it is more 
 especially apt to obtain mercy for the poor souls. But 
 not the rich alone can give alms, but the poor also, since 
 it does not so much depend on the greatness of the gift. 
 Of the poor widow who gave but one penny, Our Lord 
 saidj that she had given more than all the rich who had 
 offered gold and silver, because these offered only of 
 their abundance, whilst the poor widow gave what she 
 saved from her daily sustenance. ... 
 
 The venerable servant of God, Father Clement Hoff- 
 bauer, of the Congregation of the Most Holy Redeemer, 
 who died in Vienna in the year 1820, and whose cause of 
 beatification has already been introduced, once assisted 
 a man of distinction in death. A short time afterwards 
 the same man appeared to his wife in a dream, in a very 
 pitiable condition, his clothes in rags and quite haggard, 
 and shivering with cold. He begged her to have pity 
 
 -"* 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 117 
 
 I 
 
 nr' 
 
 on him, because he could scarcely entlure tlie extreme 
 liuuL^er and cold which he sidTered. Ills wile went 
 without tlclay to Father Ilolfbauci. related her dream, 
 and asked his advice on this point. The conl'essor, en- 
 lightened by G(hI, immedi itely unilcrstood wliat this 
 dream meant, and what kind oi assistance was especially 
 needed and asked for by this j)()()r S(/id. He accordini^ly 
 advised her to clothe a poor bej^^ar. The woman fol- 
 lowed the advice, and soon after her husband asjjain 
 ai)peared to her, dressed in a white garment, and liis 
 countenance beamini^ witli joy, thanking her lor the help 
 whicii she had given to him. 
 
 -y: -X- * * * 'A 'A- 
 
 \Vc can assist the poor souls not only by prayers, de- 
 votions, exterior works of penance, alms-deeds, and other 
 works of charity, but wc can also aid them by i)itcrior 
 mortifications. Everything which appears to us difhcult, 
 and which costs us a sacrifice, the pains of sickness, and 
 all the sufferings and troubles of this life, may be offered 
 up for these poor souls. ... 
 
 The only son of a rich widow of Bologna had been 
 murdered by a stranger. The culprit fell into her hands, 
 but the pious widow was far from taking revenge by de- 
 livering him uj) to the hands of justice. She thought of 
 the infinite love of our Saviour when He died for us upon 
 the cross, and how He prayed for His executioners when 
 dying. She, therefore, thought that she could in no way 
 honor the memory of her dear son better, and that slie 
 could do nothing more efficient for the repose of his soul, 
 than by granting pardon to the culprit, by protecting 
 him, and by even adopting him as her son and heir to all 
 her riches. This heroic self-denial, and the sacrifice 
 which she thereby offered to Our Lord in memory of His 
 bitter Passion, was so pleasing to God, that, in reward 
 thereof. He remitted to her son all the pains of Purga- 
 tory. The happy son then appeared to his mother in a 
 glorified state, at the very moment when he was entering 
 heaven. He thanked her for having thus delivered him 
 
 % 
 
i i 
 
 I 
 
 Ii8 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 from the sufferings of Purgatory much sooner than any- 
 other good work could have effected it. 
 
 ■A- -X- % * * * * 
 
 Those who give themselves up to immoderate grief at 
 the loss of beloved friends, should bear this in mind also : 
 instead of injuring their health by a grief which is of no 
 avail to the dead, they should endeavor to deliver their 
 souls from Purgatory by Masses, prayers, and good 
 works ; nay, the very thought that they thus render to 
 the souls of their beloved friends the greatest possible act 
 of charity, will console them and mitigate their sorrow. 
 For this reason St. Paul exhorts the Thessalonians not to 
 be afflicted on account of the departed, after the manner 
 of heathens who have no hope. 
 
 * -X V- -X- * ^ 'X- 
 
 Thomas Cantipratensis relates of a certain mother, that 
 she wept day and night over the death of her darling son, 
 so much so that she forsfot to assist his soul in Pursfa- 
 tory. To convince her of her folly, God one day per- 
 mitted her to be rapt in spirit, and sec a long procession 
 of youths hastening towards a city of indescribable 
 beauty. Having looked for her son in vain for some time, 
 she at last discovered him walking slowly along at the 
 end of the procession. At once her son turned towards 
 her, and said : "Ah, mother, cease 3'our useless tears ! 
 and if you truly love me, offer up for my soul Masses, 
 prayers, alms-deeda, and such like good works." Then he 
 disappeared, and his mother, instead of any longer wast- 
 ing her strength by foolish grief, began henceforth to 
 give her son proofs of a true Christian and motherly love, 
 by complying with his request. (L. II. Appar., 5, 17.) 
 
 Among the appointments to the Italian Episcopate 
 made by our Holy Father Pope Pius IX. was that of an 
 humble and holy monk, hidden away in a poor monastery 
 of Tuscany. When he received his Bulls he was thrown 
 into the greatest affliction. He had gone into religion 
 to be done with the world outside ; and here he was to be 
 thrown again into its whirlpool. He made a novena to 
 
 f 
 
 f 
 
 w 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 119 
 
 Our Blessed Lady, invokinp^ her help to rid him of the 
 burden and the danger. Meantime, he wrote a letter to 
 the See of Rome setting forth reasons why he ought not 
 to be asked to accept, and also sending back the Bulls, 
 with a positive noluity but Rome would not excuse him. 
 Then he went in person to see the Pope, and to implore 
 leave to decline, which he did, even with tears. Among 
 other reasons, the good monk said that of late he liad a 
 most miserable memory. '' That is unfortunate," said 
 the Holy Father, '* for after your death, if you continue 
 
 so, no one will ever refer to you as INIonsignor , of 
 
 happy memory! but that will be no great loss to you." 
 Then, seeing the intense grief of the nominated Bishop, 
 the Holy Father changed his tone and said : " At one 
 time of my life I, also, was threatened with the loss of my 
 memory. But I found a remedy, used it, and it has not 
 failed me. For iJic special intention of preserving this 
 faculty of memory I have said every day a * De Profnndis ' 
 for the souls in Purgatory. I give you this receipt for 
 your use ; and now, do not resist the will of him who 
 gives you and the people of your diocese his blessing." 
 
 It is a new revelation that our Holy Father Pius IX. 
 was ever threatened with loss of memory. Of all his 
 faculties of mind there was not one that excited such 
 general astonishment as his wonderful memory. 
 
 -X- ^ *C- -V'f % -k 'h 
 
 The following incident took place at Dole, in France : 
 One day, in the year 1629, long after her death, Leonarda 
 Colin, niece to Hugueta Roy, appeared to her, and spoke 
 as follows: ** I am saved by the mercy of God. It is now 
 seventeen years since I was struck down by a sudden 
 death. My poor soul was in mortal sin, but, thanks to 
 Mary, whose devoted servant I had ever striven to be, 
 1 obtained grace, in the last extremity, to make an act of 
 perfect contrition, and thus I was re.sc-ued from hell-fire, 
 but by no means from Purgatory. My sufferings in those 
 purifying flames are beyond description. At last vVl- 
 mighty God has permitted my guardian angel to conduct 
 
I20 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 me to you in order that you may make three pilgrimages 
 to three Churches of our Blessed Lady in Burgundy. 
 Upon the fulfillment of said condition, my deliverance 
 from Purgatory is promised." Hugueta did as she was 
 requested ; whereupon the same soul appeared in a glori- 
 fied state, thanking her benefactress, and promising to 
 pray for her, and admonishing her always to remember 
 the four last things. 
 
 The Greek Emperor Theophilus was, after his death, 
 condemned to the pains of Purgatory, because he had 
 been unable to perform the penances which, towards the 
 end of his life, he had wished to perform. Plis wife, the 
 pious Empress Theodora, was not satisfied with pouring 
 forth fervent prayers and sighs for the repose of his soul, 
 but she also had prayers and Masses said in all the con- 
 vents of the city of Constantinople. Besides this, she 
 besought the Patriarch St. Methodius, that for this end he 
 would order prayers to be said by both the clergy and 
 the people of the cit}'. Divine mercy could not resist so 
 man}' fervent prayers. On a certain day, when public 
 prayers were again offered up in the church of St. Sophia, 
 an Angel appeared to St. Methodius, and said to him : 
 ** Thy prayers, O Bishop, have been heard, and Theo- 
 philus has obtained pardon." Theodora, the Empress, 
 had, at the same time, avision, in which our Lord Himself 
 announced to her that her husband had been delivered 
 from Purgatory. *' For your sake," He said, " and on 
 account of the prayers of the priests, I pardon your hus- 
 band." 
 
 ¥t ¥i ¥i % ¥: ¥: 'A 
 
 In the life of Blessed Margaret Mary Alacoquc it is 
 related that the soul of one of her departed sisters ap- 
 peared to her, and said : " There you are, lying comfort- 
 ably in your bed ; but think of the bed on which I am 
 lying, and suffering the most excruciating pains." " I 
 saw this bed," says the Saint, "and I still tremble in all 
 my limbs at the mere thought of it. The upper and lower 
 part of it was full of red-hot sharp iron points, penetrating 
 
 J" 
 
 •^ 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 121 
 
 into the flesh. She told me that she had to endure this 
 pain for her carelessness in the observance of her rules. 
 ' My heart is lacerated,' she added, ' and this is the hard- 
 est of my pains. I suffer it for those fault-finding and 
 murmuring thoughts which I entertained in my heart 
 against my superiors. My tongue is eaten up by moths, 
 and tormented, on account of uncharitable words, and 
 for having unnecessarily spoken in the time of silence. 
 Would to God that all souls consecrated to the service 
 of the Lord could see me in these frightful pains ! Would 
 to God I could show them what punishments are inflicted 
 upon those who live negligently in their vocation ! They 
 would indeed change their manner of living, observing 
 most punctually the smallest point of their rules, and 
 guarding against those faults for which I am now so 
 much tormented.' " 
 
 
 
 1.1 
 
 i 
 
 II i 
 
 ll 
 
122 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 APPEAL TO ALL CLASSES FOE THE SOULS IN 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 BY A PAULIST FATHER. 
 
 " My daughter is just now dead ; but come, lay thy hand upon her, and she 
 
 shall live."— St. Matt. ix. i3. 
 
 Sucn was the entreaty made by the ruler to our Lord 
 in the Gospel, and such are the words that the Lord says 
 to us during- the month of November, in behalf of the 
 poor souls in Purgatory. These souls have been saved 
 by the Precious Blood, they have been judged by Jesus 
 Christ with a favorable judgment, they are His spouses. 
 His sons and daughters — His children. He cries to us : 
 " My children are even now dead ; but come, lay your 
 hands upon them, and they shall live." What hand is 
 that which our Lord wants us to lay upon His dead chil- 
 dren ? Brethren, it is the hand of prayer. Now, it seems 
 to me that there are three classes of persons who ought 
 to be in an especial manner the friends of God's dead 
 children ; three classes who ought always to be extending 
 a helping hand to the souls in Purgatory. First, the 
 poor, because the holy souls are poor like yourselves. 
 They have no work — that is to say, the day for them is 
 past in which they could work and gain indulgences and 
 merit, the money with which the debt of temporal pun- 
 ishment is paid ; for them the "night has come when no 
 man can work." They are willing to work, they are will- 
 ing to pay for themselves, but they cannot ; they are out 
 of work, they are poor, they cannot help themselves. 
 They are suffering, as the poor suffer in this world from 
 the heats of summer and the frosts of winter. They have 
 no food ; they arc hungry and thirsty ; they are longing 
 for the sweets of heaven. They arc in exile ; they have 
 no home ; they know there is abundance of food and rai- 
 ment around them which they cannot themselves buy. 
 It seems to them that the winter will never pass, that the 
 
 ^. 
 
 c 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 ilM 
 
 123 
 
 mC*i 
 
 spring will nev^cr come ; in a word they arr poor. They 
 are poor as many of you arc poor. They are in worse 
 need than the most destitute among you. Oh ! then, yc 
 that are poor, help the holy souls by your prayers. Sec- 
 ondly, the rich ought to be the special friends of those 
 who are in Purgatory, and among the rich we wish to 
 include those who are what people call " comfortably 
 off." God has given you charge of the poor ; you can 
 help them by your alms in this world, so you can in the 
 next. You can have Masses said for them ; you can say 
 lots of prayers for them, because you have plenty of time 
 on your hands. Again remember, many of those who 
 were your equals in this world, who, like yourselves, had 
 a good supply of this world's goods, have gone to Purga- 
 tory because those riches were a snare to them. Riches, 
 my dear friends, have sent many a soul to the place of 
 purification. Oh ! then, those of you who are well off, 
 have pity upon the poor souls in Purgatory. Offer up a 
 good share of your wealth to have Masses said for them. 
 Do some act of charity, and offer the merit of it for some 
 soul who was ensnared by riches, and who is now paying 
 the penalty in suffering ; and spend some considerable 
 portion of your spare time in praying for the souls of the 
 faithful departed. 
 
 And lastly, sinners and those who have been converted 
 from a very sinful life ought to be the friends of God's 
 dead children. Why? Because, although the souls in 
 Purgatory cannot pray for themselves, they can pray for 
 others, and these prayers are most acceptable to God. 
 Because, too, they are full of gratitude, and they will not 
 forget those who helped them when they shall come be- 
 fore the throne of God. Because sinners, having sad- 
 dened the Sacred Heart of Jesus by their sins, cannot 
 make a better reparation to it than to hasten the time 
 when He shall embrace these souls whom He loves so 
 dearly, and has wished for so long. Because sinners have 
 almost always been the means of the sins of others. They 
 have, by their bad example, sent others to Purgatory. 
 
124 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Ah ! then, If they have helped them in, they should help 
 them out. 
 
 You, then, that are poor, you that are rich, you that 
 have been great sinners, listen to the voice of Jesus ; listen 
 to the plaint of Mary during this month of November ; 
 "My children are now dead ; come lay thy prayers up 
 for them, and they shall live." Hear Mass for the poor 
 souls ; say your beads for them ; supplicate Jesus and 
 Mary and Joseph in their behalf. Fly to St. Catherine 
 of Genoa and beg her to help them, and many and many 
 a time during the month say with great fervor: "May 
 the souls of the faithful departed through the mercy of 
 God rest in peace." — Fivc-Minutc Sermons for Lozu Masses. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 125 
 
 THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. » 
 
 REV. F. n. WKNINGKR, S. J., D. D. 
 
 On the Feast of All Souls, and whenever we are re- 
 minded of Purgatory, we cannot help thinking of the 
 dreadful pains which the souls in Purgatory have to 
 suffer, in order to be purified from every stain of sin ; of 
 the excruciating torments they have to undergo for their 
 faults and imperfections, and how thoroughly they have 
 to atone for the least offences committed against the in- 
 finite holiness and justice of God. It is but just, there- 
 fore, that we should condole with them, and do all that 
 we can to deliver them from the flames of Purgatory, or, 
 at least, to soothe their pains. . . . The fire of Purga- 
 tory, as the doctors of the Church declare, is as intense as 
 that of the abode of hell ; with this difference, that it has 
 an end. Yea ! it may be that to-day a soul in Purgatory 
 is undergoing more agony, more excruciating suffering 
 than a damned soul, which is tormented in hell for a few 
 mortal sins ; while the poor soul in Purgatory must sat- 
 isfy for millions of venial sins. 
 
 All the pains which afflict the sick upon earth, added 
 to all that the martyrs have ever suffered, cannot be com- 
 pared with those in Purgatory, so great is the punish- 
 ment of those poor souls. 
 
 We read, how once a sick person who was very impa- 
 tient in his sufferings, exclaimed ; "■ O God, take me from 
 this world ! " Thereupon the Angel Guardian appeared 
 to him, and told him to remember that, by patiently bear- 
 ing his afflictions upon his sick-bed, he could satisfy for 
 his sins, and shorten his Purgatory. But the sick man 
 replied that he chose rather to satisfy for his sins in Pur- 
 gatory. The poor sufferer died ; and behold, his Guard- 
 ian Angel appeared to him again, and asked him if he did 
 
 ' From the " OrigiiKiI, Short and Practical Sermons for every Feast of 
 the Ecclesiastical Year." 
 
 ;:r i 
 
 '. i -; 
 
 ;! ! 
 
 iU 
 
 '1:,T 
 
 '«TS»l!»«f?»^ 
 
, I :'m 
 
 126 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 not repent of the choice he had made of satisfyini^ for his 
 sins in I'urgatory, by tortures, rather than upon earth by 
 afflictions. Thereupon the poor soul asked the angel : 
 " How many years am I now here in these terril)lc 
 flames?" The Angel replied : ** How many years? Thy 
 body upon earth is not yet buried ; nay, it is not yet cold 
 and still thou believest already thou art here for many 
 years ! " Oh, how that soul lamented upon hearing this. 
 Great indeed was its grief for not having chosen pati- 
 ently to undergo upon earth the sufferings of sickness, 
 and thereby shorten its Purgatory. 
 
 ■.^ i<- v^ ;^ ^^ * * 
 
 Upon earth, persons who anxiously seek another abode 
 or another state of life, often know not whether, perhaps, 
 they may not fall into a more wretched condition. How 
 many have forsaken the shores of Europe, with the bright 
 hope of a better future awaiting tliem in America? All 
 has been disappointment ! They have repented a thou- 
 sand times of having deserted their native country. Now 
 does this disappointment await the souls in Purgatory 
 upon their deliverance? Ah ! by no means. They /c;io7ij 
 too well that when they are released heaven will be their 
 home. Once there, no more pains, no more fire for them ; 
 but the enjoyment of an everlasting bliss, which no eye 
 hath seen nor ear heard ; nor hath it entered into the 
 heart of man to conceive. Such will be their future happy 
 state. Oh ! how great is their desire to be there already. 
 Another circumstance which especially intensifies hope 
 in the breast of man, is inte}'course — union with those who 
 are near and dear to him. 
 
 How many, indeed, have bid a last farewell to Europe, 
 where they would have prospered ; but oh, there arc 
 awaiting them in another land their beloved ones — those 
 who are so dear, and in whose midst they long to be ! 
 Oh, what a great source of desire is not this, for the poor 
 souls in Purgatory to go to heaven ! In heaven they shall 
 find again those whom they have loved and cherished 
 upon earth, but who have already preceded them on their 
 
 ^ 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 127 
 
 way to the heavenly mansion. . . . There is still 
 another feature, another cireumstance whieh presents 
 itself in the condition of the poor souls in Purgatory : I 
 mean the irresistible force or tendency with which they 
 arc drawn towards God ; their intense longing after Him, 
 their last aim and end. . . . Oh, with what intense 
 anxiety and longing is not a poor soul in Purgatory con- 
 sumed, to behold the splendor of its Lord and Creator! 
 But, also ! with what marks of gratitude does not every 
 soul whom we have assisted to enter heaven pray for us 
 upon its entrance ! 
 
 Therefore, let us hasten to the relief of the poor suffer- 
 ing souls in Purgatory. Let us help them to the best of 
 our power, so that they may supplicate for us before the 
 throne of the Most High ; that they may remember us 
 when we, too, shall one day be afflicted in that prison 
 house of suffering, and may procure for us a speedy 
 release and an early enjoyment of a blissful eternity. 
 
 -VV * * -k -% -X- 'k 
 
 When it will be your turn one day to dwell in those 
 flames, and be separated from God, how happy will you 
 not be, if others alleviate and shorten your pains ! Do you 
 desire this assistance for your own soul ? Then begin in 
 this life, while you have time, to render aid to the poor 
 
 souls in Purgatory. He who does not 
 
 assist others, unto him shall no mercy be shown ; for this 
 is what even-handed justice requires. Hence, let us not 
 be deaf to the pitiful cries of the departed ones. . . 
 
 . . . What afflicts those poor, helpless souls still 
 more, is the circumstance that, despite their patience in 
 suffering, they can earn nothing for heaven. With us, 
 however, such is not the case. We, by our patience 
 under affliction, may merit much, very much indeed, for 
 
 Paradise [ well remember a certain 
 
 sick person who was sorely pressed with great sufferings. 
 Wishing to console him in his distress, I said : " Friend, 
 such severe pains will not last long. You will either 
 recover from your illness and become well and strong 
 
 t: 
 
128 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ill 
 
 !.'• 
 
 i 
 
 again, or God will soon call you to himself." Thereupon 
 the sick man, turning his eyes upon a crucifix which had 
 been placed for him at the foot of his bed, replied : 
 ** Father, 1 desire no alleviation in my suffering, no relief 
 in my pains. 1 cheerfully endure all as long as it is God's 
 good pleasure, but I hope that I now undergo my Purga- 
 tory." Then, stretcliing forth his hands towards his 
 crucifix he thus addressed it, filled with the most lively 
 ho[)e in God's mercy: " Is it not so, dear Jesus? Thou 
 wilt only take me from my bed of pain to receive me 
 straightway into heaven ! " 
 
 ■Vc vt 'A- Vc % Vc % 
 
 We find in the lives of all the saints a most ardent zeal 
 in the cause of these poor afllicted ones. For their relief 
 they offered to God not only prayers, but also Masses, 
 penances, the most severe sicknesses, and the most pain- 
 ful trials, and all this as a recognition and a practical dis- 
 play of the belief which they cherished — that they who 
 have slept in Christ arc finally to repose with him in 
 glory. . . . Because all that we perform for the help 
 and delivery of the poor souls in Purgatory, are works 
 of Christian faith and piety. Such are prayer, the august 
 sacrifice of the Mass, the reception of the holy sa- 
 craments, alms-deeds, and acts of penance and self- 
 denial. ... 
 
 Remember, dear Christians, that we, too, shall be poor, 
 helpless, and suffering souls in Purgatory, and what shall 
 we carry with us of all our earthly goods and treasures ? 
 Not a single farthing. 
 
 * V: * * * * x- 
 
 We read, in the life of St. Gertrude, that God once 
 allowed her to behold Purgatory. And, lo ! she saw a 
 soul that was about issuing from Purgatory, and Christ, 
 who, followed by a band of holy virgins, was approach- 
 ing, and stretching forth his hands towards it. There- 
 upon the soul, which was almost out of Purgator}', drew 
 back, and of its own accord sank again into the fire. 
 ''What dost thou?" said St. Gertrude to the soul. 
 
 ■WM 
 
 ■H 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 139 
 
 " Dost thou not sec that Christ wishes to release thee 
 from thy terrible abode ? " To this the soul repUcd : " () 
 Gertrude, thou beholdest me not as I am. I am not yet 
 immaculate. There is yet another stain upon me. I will 
 not hasten thus to the arms of Jesus." 
 
 ?. 
 
 4 
 
 r 
 
 i 
 
 ij 
 
130 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 I 
 
 A POPXTLAR VIEW OF PURGATORY. 
 
 REV, J. J. MORIARTY, LL.D. 
 
 Purgatory is a state of suffering for such souls as have 
 left this life in the friendship of God, but who arc not 
 sufficiently purified to enter the kingdom of heaven — hav- 
 ing to undergo some temporal punishment for their 
 lighter sins and imperfections, or for their grievous sins, 
 the eternal guilt of which has been remitted. In other 
 words, we believe that the souls of all who departed this 
 life — not wicked enough to be condemned to hell, nor yet 
 pure enough to enjoy the Beatific Vision of God — are sent 
 to a place of purgation, where, in the crucible of suffer- 
 ing, the lighter stains of their souls are thoroughly re- 
 moved, and they themselves are gradually prepared to 
 enter the Holy of Holies — where nothing defiled is per- 
 mitted to approach. 
 
 * Vf * * i^ * * 
 
 There are many venial faults which the majority of 
 
 persons commit, and for which they have little or no sor- 
 row — sins which do not deprive the soul of God's friend- 
 ship, and yet are displeasing to His infinite holiness. For 
 all these we must suffer either in this life or the next. 
 Divine justice weighs everything in a strict balance, and 
 there is no sin that we commit but for which we shall 
 have to make due reparation. Faults which we deem of 
 little or no account the Almighty will not pass unnoticed 
 or unpunished. Our Blessed Saviour warns us that even 
 for " every idle word that man shall say he shall render 
 an account in the day of judgment." 
 
 We know full well that no man will be sent to hell 
 merely for an " idle word," or for any venial fault he may 
 commit ; consequently there must be a place where such 
 sins are punished. If they be not satisfied for here upon 
 earth by suffering, affliction, or voluntary penance, there 
 must be a place in the other life where proper satisfaction 
 
DOCTRIXVL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 131 
 
 her h 
 
 is to be made. That phice cannot, lie either licaven or 
 hell. It cannot be heaven, for no sullerinj^s, no pain, no 
 torment is to be found there, v.liere " Ciod sliall \vi[)c 
 away all te;irs from their eyes, where death shall be no 
 more, nor mournin<^ nor weei>in<;." It cannot be hell, 
 where only the souls of those who have died enemies of 
 God arc condemned to eternal misery, for " out of hell 
 there is no redemption." 
 
 There must be, then, a Middle Place where lighter 
 faults are cleansed from the soul, and proper satisfaction 
 is rendered for the temporal punishment that still remains 
 due. The punishment of every one will vary accordinj^ 
 to his desert. 
 
 v'f Vt * * -fi ¥t * 
 
 Our Divine Lord warns us to make necessary repara- 
 tion whilst we have the time and opportunity. 
 
 " Make an agreement with thy adversary quickly whilst 
 thou art in the way with him ; lest, perhaps, the adversary 
 deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to 
 the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Amen I say to 
 thee, thou shalt not go out from thence till thou pay the 
 last farthing." (St. Matthew, v., 25, 26.) 
 
 This expresses the doctrine of Purgatory most admi- 
 rably. The Scriptures always describe our life as a i)il- 
 grimage. We are only on our way. We have to meet 
 the claims of Divine justice here before being called to 
 the tribunal of the everlasting Judge ; otherwise, even 
 should we die in His friendship and yet have left these 
 claims not entirely satisfied, wc shall be cast into the 
 prison of Purgatory ; and " Amen, I say unto thee that 
 thou shalt not go out from thence until thou pay the last 
 farthing." 
 
 % -^ ^- * * * -ij 
 
 Our Saviour declares (St. Matthew, xii. 32,) that " who- 
 ever shall speak a word against the Son of Man, it shall 
 be forgiven him ; but he that shall speak against the Holy 
 Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, either in this life or in 
 the world to come ; " which shows, as St. Augustine says 
 
 M 
 
 !! ' 
 
 I 
 
 
 
 ! I 
 
 II' 
 
132 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 in the twenty-first book of his work, " The City of God," 
 that there are some sins (venial of course) which shall be 
 forgiven in the next world, and that, consequently, there 
 is a middle state, or place of purgation in the other life, 
 since no one can enter heaven having any stain of sin, 
 and surely no one can obtain forgiveness in hell. 
 
 The testimony of St. Paul is very clear on this point of 
 doctrine : " For no man can lay anotlier foundation but 
 that which is laid ; which is Jesus Christ. Now if any 
 man build on that foundation, gold, silver, precious stones, 
 wood, hay, stubble : every man's work shall be made 
 manifest ; for the day of the Lord shall declare it, because 
 it shall be revealed iDy fire ; and the fire shall try every 
 man's work, of what sort it is. If any man's work abide, 
 which he had built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. 
 If any man's work burn, he shall suffer loss ; but Jic him- 
 self shall be saved, yet so as by fire'' 
 
 In the First Epistle of St. Peter (Chap. iii. i8, 19), we 
 learn that Christ " being put to death, indeed, in the flesh, 
 but brought to hfe by the spirit, in which also He came 
 and preached to those spirifo who were in prison." 
 
 Our Blessed Saviour, immediately after death, descended 
 into that part of hell called Limbo, and, as St. Peter 
 informs us, "preached to the spirits v/ho were in prison." 
 This most certainlv shows the existence of a middle state. 
 The spirits to wdiom our Lord preached were certainly 
 not in the hell of the damned, where His preaching could 
 not possibly bear any fruit ; they were not already in 
 heaven, where no preaching is necessary, since there they 
 see God face to face. Therefore they must have been in 
 some middle state — call it by whatever name you please 
 — where they were anxiously awaiting their deliverance 
 at the liands of their Lord and Redeemer. 
 
 Belief in Purgatory is more ancient than Christianity 
 itself. It was the belief among the Jews of old, and of 
 this we have clear proof in the Second Book of Macha- 
 bees, xii., 43. After a great victory gained by that valiant 
 
 \ 
 
 '■■^»ir»— ■ — 
 
BriBaM 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 133 
 
 chieftain, Judas Machabeus, about two hundred years 
 before the coming of Christ, " Judas making a gathering, 
 he sent twelve thousand drachmas of silver to Jerusalem 
 for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking 
 well and justly concerning the resurrection. . . It is, 
 therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for tiie 
 dead, that they may be loosed from their sins." 
 
 It is customary, even in our days, in Jewish synagogues, 
 to erect tablets reminding those present of the lately 
 deceased, in order that they may remember them in their 
 prayers. Surely, if there did not exist a place of purga- 
 tion, no prayers nor sacrifices would be of any avail to the 
 departed. We find the custom of praying, of offering the 
 Holy Sacrifice of the Mass for their spiritual benefit, 
 more especially on their anniversaries, an universal prac- 
 tice among the primitive Christians of the Eastern and 
 Western Churches, of the Greek, Latin, and Oriental 
 Rites. 
 
 Even if we did not find strong warrant, as we do, in 
 the Scriptures, the authority of Apostolic Tradition 
 would be amply sufficient for us ; for, remember, wg 
 Catholics hold the traditions, handed down from the 
 Apostles, to be of as much weight as their own writings. 
 
 . . Hence it is that we have recourse to sacred tradi- 
 tion as well as to Scripture for the proof of our teaching. 
 With reference, then, to the doctrine of " Purgatory," we 
 are guided by the belief that prevailed among the primi- 
 tive Christians. 
 
 That the custom of praying for the dead was sanctioned 
 by the Apostles themselves, we have the declaration of 
 St. John Chrysostom : " It was not in vain instituted by 
 the Apostles that in the celebration of the tremendous 
 mysteries a remembrance should be made of the departed. 
 They knew that much profit and advantage would be 
 thereby derived." 
 
 Tertullian — the most ancient of the Latin Fathers, who 
 flourished in the age immediately following that of the 
 Apostles — speaks of the duty of a widow with regard to 
 
 V n 
 
 » \i 
 
BHWM 
 
 Li. 1 
 MM 
 
 r ' 1 
 
 134 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 her deceased husband : *' Wherefore also does she pray 
 for his soul, and begs for him, in the interim, refreshment, 
 and in the first resurrection, companionship, and makes 
 offerings for him on the anniversary day of his falling 
 asleep in the Lord. For unless she has done these things, 
 she has truly repudiated him so far as is in her power." 
 All this supposes a Purgatory. 
 
 " The measure of the pain," says St, Gregory Nyssa, 
 
 " is the quantity of evil to be found in each one 
 
 Being either purified during the present life by means of 
 prayer and the pursuit of wisdom, or, after departure 
 from this life, by means of the furnace of the fire of pur- 
 gatory." 
 
 ****** 4«- 
 
 Not only deeply instructive, but also eminently consol- 
 ing is the doctrine of Purgatory. We need not " mourn 
 as those who have no hope," for those nearest and dear- 
 est who have gone hence and departed this life in the 
 friendship of God. 
 
 How beautifully our Holy Mother the Church bridges 
 over the terrible chasm of the grave ! How faithfully 
 and tenderly she comes to our aid in the saddest of our 
 griefs and sorrows ! She leaves us not to mourn uncom- 
 forted, unsustained. She chides us not for shedding 
 tears over our dear lost ones — a beloved parent, a darling 
 child, a loving brother, affectionate sister, or deeply-cher- 
 ished friend or spouse. She bids us let our tears flow, 
 for our Saviour wept at the grave of Lazarus. 
 
 She whispers words of comfort — not unmeaning words, 
 but words of divine hope and strength — to our breaking 
 hearts. She pours the oil of heavenly consolation into 
 our deepest wounds. She bids us cast off all unseemly 
 grief, assuring us that not even death itself can sever the 
 bond that unites us ; that we can be of service to those 
 dear departed ones whom wc loved better than life itself; 
 that we can aid them by our prayers and good works, and 
 especially by the Holy Sacrifice of the ISIass. Thus may 
 wc shorten their time of banishment, assuage their pains. 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 135 
 
 and continue to storm Heaven itself with our piteous ap- 
 peals until the Lord deign to look down in mercy, open 
 their prison doors, and admit them to the full light of His 
 holy presence, and to the everlasting embrace of their 
 Redeemer and their God. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 N i 
 
 ill 
 
136 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM "CATHOLIC BELIEF." 
 
 VERY REV. FAA DI BRUNO.' 
 
 As works of penance have no value in themselves ex- 
 cept through the merits of Jesus Christ, so the pains of 
 I'urgatory have no pov.xi in themselves to purify the 
 Soul from sin, but only in virtue of Christ's Redemption, 
 or, to speak more exactly, the souls in Purgatory are 
 able to discharge the debt of temporal punishment de- 
 manded by God's justice, and to have their venial sins 
 remitted only through the merits of Jesus Christ, " yet 
 so as by fire." 
 
 The Catholic belief in Purgatory rests on the authority 
 of the Church and her apostolic traditions recorded in 
 ancient Litur^-ies, and in the writinofs of the ancient 
 Fathers : Tertullian, St. Cyprian, Origcn, Eusebius of 
 Caesarea, Arnobius, St. Basil, St. Ephrcm of Edessa, St. 
 Cyril of Jerusalem, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Ambrose, 
 St. Epiphanius, St. John Chrysostom, St. Jerome, St. Au- 
 gustine. It rests also on the Fourth Council of Carthage, 
 and on many other authorities of antiquity. 
 
 That this tradition is derived from the Apostles, St. 
 John Chrysostom plainly testified in a passage quoted at 
 the end of this chapter, in which he speaks of suffrages or 
 help for the departed. 
 
 St. Augustine tells us that Arius was the first who 
 dared to teach that it was of no use to offer up prayers 
 and sacrifices for the dead ; and this doctrine of Arius he 
 reckoned among heresies. (Book of Heresies, Heresy 
 
 53d.) 
 There are also passages in Holy Scripture from which 
 
 ' Catholic Belief , or, A Short and Simple Exposition of Catholic Doc- 
 trine, by Very Rev. Joseph Faa Di Bruno. 0. D., Rector-General of the 
 Pious Society of Missions of the Church of San Salvatore in Onde, 
 Ponte Sisto, Rome, and St. Peter's Italian Church in London. American 
 Edition, edited by Father Lambert, author of Notes on Ingcrsoll, &c. 
 
 ^^ 
 
 -mm 
 
V, 
 
 DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 ^Z7 
 
 the Fathers have confirmed the Catholic belief on this 
 point. 
 
 St. Paul, in his first epistle tcT the Corinthians, chap, 
 iii. 11-15, writes: "For other foundations no one can 
 lay, but that which is laid ; which is Christ Jesus. Now, 
 if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, pre- 
 cious stones, wood, hay, stubble ; every man's work shall 
 be manifest ; for the day of the Lord shall declare it, be- 
 cause it shall be revealed in fire ; and the fire shall try 
 every man's work of what sort it is. If any man's work 
 abide, which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a 
 reward. If any man's work burn, he shall suffer loss ; 
 but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire." 
 
 The ancient Fathers, Origen in the third century, St. 
 Ambrose and St. Jerome in the fourth, and St. Augustine 
 in the fifth, have interpreted this text of St. Paul as re- 
 lating to venial sins committed by Christians which St. 
 Paul compares to " wood, hay, stubble," and thus with 
 this text they confirm the Catholic belief in Purgatory, 
 well known and believed in their time, as it is by Cath- 
 olics in the present time. In St. INIatthew (chap. v. 25, 
 26) we read, " Be at agreement with thy adversary be- 
 times, whilst thou art in the way with him ; lest, perhaps, 
 the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge 
 deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. 
 Amen, I say to thee, thou shalt not go out from thence 
 till thou repay the last farthing." 
 
 On this passage, St. Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, a 
 Father of the third century, says: " It is one thing to be 
 cast into prison, and not go out from thence till the last 
 fiirthing be paid, and another to receive at once the re- 
 ward of faith and virtue : one thing in punishment of sin 
 to be purified by long-suffering and purged by long fire, 
 and another to have expiated all sins of suffering (in this 
 life) ; one in fire, at the day of Judgment to wait the sen- 
 tence of the Lord, another to receive an immediate crown 
 from Him. (Epist. iii.) 
 
 Our Saviour said : " lie that shall speak against the 
 
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 1 
 
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 Wt^ 
 
 jH 
 
 • m^ 
 
 II 
 
 -' ' ll 
 
 IE 
 
 
 Jjl 
 
 
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 •if I 
 
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 I' 
 
138 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Holy Ghost, it shall not be for<^iven him in this world, 
 nor in the world to come." (St. Matt. xii. 32.) 
 
 From this text St. Augustine argues, that " It would 
 not have been said with truth that their sin shall not be 
 forgiven, neither in this world, nor in the world to come, 
 unless some sins were remitted in the next world. {Dc 
 Civitatc Dei, Book xxi. chap. 24.) 
 
 On the other hand, we read in several places in Holy 
 Scripture that God will render to every one (that is, will 
 reward or punish) according as each deserves. See, for 
 example, in JNIatthew xvi. 27. But as we cannot think 
 that God will punish everlastingly a person who dies 
 burdened with the guilt of venial sin only, it may be an 
 " idle zi'o?'d," it is reasonable to infer that the punishment 
 rendered to that person in the next world will be only 
 temporary. 
 
 The Catholic belief in Purgatory does not clash with 
 the following declarations of Holy Scripture, which every 
 Catholic firmly believes, namely, that it is Jesus who 
 cleanseth us from all sin, that Jesus bore *' the iniquity of 
 us all," that " by His bruises we are healed," (Isaias iii., 
 5); for it is through the blood of Jesus and His copious 
 Redemption that those pains of Purgatory have power to 
 '^ansc the souls therein detained. 
 
 .Again, the Catholic belief in Purgatory is not in oppo- 
 sition to those texts of Scripture in which it is said that a 
 man when he is justified is " translated from death to 
 life ; " that he is no longer judged : that there is no con- 
 demnation in him. For these passages do not refer to 
 souls taken to Heaven when natural death occurs, but to 
 persons in this world, who from the death of sin pass to 
 the life of grace. Nor does it follow that dying in that 
 state of grace, that is, in a state of spiritual life, they must 
 go at once to Heaven. A soul may be justified, entirely 
 exempt from eternal condemnation, and yet have some- 
 thing to suffer for a time ; thus, also, in this world, many 
 are justified, and yet are not exempt from suffering. 
 
 Again, it is not fair to bring forward against the Cath- 
 
 o 
 
 ;'-Jji:'i^a.>^.i;UiM,d^<giS3^ 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 139 
 
 olic doctrine on Purgatory that text of the Apocalypse, 
 Rev. xix. 13 : " Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. 
 From henceforth now, saith the Spirit, that they may rest 
 from their labors: for their works follow them," for this 
 text applies only to those souls who die perfectly in the 
 Lord, that is, entirely free from every kind of sin, and 
 from the staiH, the guilty and the debt of temporal punisJi- 
 vicnt of every sin. Catholics believe that these souls have 
 no pain to suffer in Puri^atory, as is the case with the 
 martyrs and saints who die in a perfect state of grace. 
 
 It is usual to bring forward against the Catholic belief 
 in Purgatory that text which says: " If the tree fall to the 
 south, or to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, 
 there shall it be. (Eccles. xi. 3.) 
 
 This text confirms and illustrates the truth that, when 
 death comes, \\\q. final doom of every one is fixed, and that 
 there is no possibility of changing it ; so that one dying 
 in a state of mortal sin will always remain in a state of 
 mortal sin, and consequently be rejected forever ; and one 
 dying in a state of grace and friendship with God, will 
 forever remain accepted by God and in a state of grace, 
 and in friendship with Him. 
 
 But this text proves nothing against the existence of 
 Purgatory ; for a soul, although in a state of grace, and 
 destined to heaven, may still have to suffer for a time 
 before being perfectly fit to enter upon the eternal bliss, 
 to enjoy the vision of God. 
 
 Some might be disposed, notwithstanding, to regard 
 this text as opposed to the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory 
 by saying that the two places alluded to in the texts are 
 heaven and hell. But this interpretation Catholics readily 
 admit, for at death either heaven or hell is the final place 
 to which all men are allotted. Purgatory being only a pas- 
 sage to heaven. This text surely does not tell against those 
 just ones under the Old Law who died in a state of grace 
 and salvation, and who, though sure of heaven, had yet to 
 wait in a middle state until after the Ascension of Jesus 
 Christ ; neither, therefore, does it tell against Purgatory. 
 
 : I 
 
140 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Christ's Redemption is abundant, ^'plentiful,'' as Moly 
 Scripture says (Ps. cxxix. 7), and Catholics do not believe 
 that those Christians who die guilty only of venial sins 
 unrcpcnted of and unforg-iven, are condemned to the ever- 
 lasting pains of hell, as Protestants must believe, if con- 
 sistent with their principles. Catholics believe that for 
 such there is still a way, although painful, of being cleansed 
 from these lesser faults after this life, through the merits of 
 Jesus Christ. And this is Purgatory, where they can be 
 purified like gold in a fire, and made fit to enter into the 
 heavenly Jerusalem, where " there shall not enter any- 
 thing defiled " (Apoc. xxi. 27) ; or, to use the language of 
 St. Paul, '* he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire" (i 
 Cor. iii. 5). 
 
 Catholics also believe that the souls in Purgatory con- 
 tinue to be members of the Church of Christ, and that 
 they are relieved by the sacrifice of the Mass, by prayer 
 and pious works and alms-deeds ; these and other helps 
 arc called suffrages because they are applied to them by 
 the Faithful here on earth, with the intention of helping 
 them. Indulgences may also be applied to them. 
 
 The living can pray for each other efficaciously. St. 
 James the Apostle says: " Pray for one another, that you 
 may be saved" (v. 16). Why, then, should we not be 
 able to pray also with efficacy for the departed, especially 
 since the souls in Purgatory quitted this life in the state 
 of grace and love which, according to St. Paul, " never 
 falleth away" (i Cor. xiii. 8). If death does not break 
 their ties of love towards us, the same should not sever 
 our bonds of love towards them, nor prevent us doing 
 what we can in their behalf. The Jews retain in their 
 Liturgy to this day the pious practice of praying for the 
 departed. 
 
 The Catholic beb'ef is comprised in those words of the 
 Apostles' Creed : " I believe in the Communion of Saints." 
 The natural meaning of th^'s declaration being that we are 
 in a communion of prayers with the Saints, whether in 
 heaven, in Purgatory, or on earth. It has always been 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 141 
 
 <(! 
 
 the practice of the Catholic Church to offer prayers and 
 other pious works in suffrage for the dead, as is am})ly 
 testified l)y the Latin Fathers ; for instance, TertulUan, 
 wSt. Cyprian, St. Augustine, St. Gregory ; and amongst 
 the Greek Fathers, by St. Ephrcm of Edessa, St. Basil 
 and St. John Chrysostom. St. Chrysostom says : ** It was 
 not without good reason ordained by the Apostles that 
 mention should be made of the dead in the tremendous 
 mysteries, because they knew well that^ these would re- 
 ceive great benefit from it " (on the First Epistle to Philip- 
 pians, Homily iii.) By the expression '* tremendous mys- 
 teries," is meant the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. 
 
 St. Augustine says : " It is not to be doubted that the 
 dead arc aided by the prayers of Holy Church and by 
 the salutary sacrifice, and by the alms which are offered 
 for their spirits, that the Lord may deal with them more 
 mercifully than their sins have deserved. For this, which 
 has been handed down by the Fathers, the universal 
 Church observes. {Rnchirid, Vol. v., Ser. 172.) 
 
 The same pious custom is proved also from the ancient 
 Liturgies of the Greek and other Eastern Churches, both 
 Catholic and Schismatic, in which the Priest is directed 
 to pray for the repose of the dead during the celebration 
 of the Holy Mysteries. 
 
 I 
 I 
 
 C;^,-.n»S.fe»-.-.-.-t>.^.g--r-.-A.-.-^ ,7i-C.C -.!■ : 
 
ii«Oi«<#iK'iM«l«*«. > 
 
 1 
 
 142 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 PURGATORY AND THE FEAST OF ALL SOULS. 
 
 ALBAN nUTLER. 
 
 By Puri^atory no more is meant by Catholics than a 
 middle state of souls; namely of purgation from sin by 
 temporary chastisements, or a ])iinisiiment of some sin in- 
 flicted after death, which is not eternal. As to the place, 
 manner or kind of these sufferinofs nothinc: has been dc- 
 fined by the Church ; and all who with Dr. Deacon except 
 against this doctrine, on account of the circumstance of a 
 material fire, quarrel about a mere scholastic question, in 
 which a person is at liberty to choose either side. . . . 
 Certainly some sins are venial, which deserve not eternal 
 death. Yet if not effaced by condign punishment in this 
 world must be punished in the next. The Scriptures fre- 
 quently mention those venial sins, from which ordinarily 
 the just are not exempt, who certainly would not be just 
 if these lesser sins into which men easily fall by surprise, 
 destroyed grace in tlicm, or if they fell from charity. 
 Yet the smallest sin excludes a soul from heaven so long 
 as it is not blotted out. . . . Who is there who keeps 
 so constant a guard upon his heart and whole conduct as 
 to avoid all sensible self-deceptions? Who is there upon 
 whose heart no inordinate attachments steal ; into whose 
 actions no sloth, remissness, or other irregularity ever in- 
 sinuates itself? . . . The Blessed Virgin was pre- 
 served by an extraordinary grace from the least sin in the 
 whole tenor of her life and actions ; but, without such a 
 singular privilege, even the saints are obliged to say that 
 they sin daily. . . . The Church of Christ is com- 
 posed of three different parts : the Triumphant in Heaven, 
 the Militant on earth, and the Patient or Suffering in 
 Purgatory. Our charity embraces all the members of 
 Christ. . . . The Communion of Saints which we 
 profess in our Creed, implies a communication of certain 
 good works and offices, and a mutual intercourse among 
 
 \-> 
 
 . I 
 
DOCTRINAL AND DEVOTIONAL. 
 
 143 
 
 all the members of Clirist. This wc maintain with tic 
 Saints in heaven by thankinf^ and i)raisinj^ God for their 
 triunii)hs and crowns, imploring their intercession, and 
 receiving- the succors of their charitable solicitude f<tr us : 
 likewise with the souls in Purti^atory by solicitinij;' the 
 divine mercy in their favor. Nor does it seem to be 
 doubted but they, as they arc in a state of p^race and 
 charity, pray for us; though the Churcli never address 
 public suffrages to them, not being warranted by primi- 
 tive practice and tradition so to do. 
 
 . . . . St. Odilo, abbot of Cluni, in 99S, instituted 
 the commemoi'ation of all the faithful departed in all the 
 monasteries of his congregation on the ist of November, 
 which was soon adopted by the whole Western Ciuirch. 
 The Council of Oxford, in 1222, declared it a holiday of 
 the second class, on which certain necessary and im})()r- 
 tant kinds of work were allowed. Some dioceses kept it a 
 holiday of precept till noon ; only those of Viennc and 
 Tours, and the order of Cluni, the whole day : in most 
 places it is only a day of devotion. The Greeks have 
 long kept on wSaturday sevennight before Lent, and on 
 Saturday before Whitsunday, the solemn commemoration 
 of all the faithful departed; but offer up Mass every 
 Saturday for them. . . . The dignity of these souls 
 most strongly recommends them to our compassion, and 
 at the same time to our veneration. Though they lie at 
 present at a distance from God, buried in frightful dun- 
 geons under waves of fire, they belong to the happy 
 number of the elect. They are united to God by His 
 grace ; they love Him above all things, and amidst their 
 torments never cease to bless and praise Him, adoring 
 the severity of His justice with perfect resignation and 
 love. . . . They are illustrious conquerors of the 
 devil, the world and hell ; holy spirits loaded with merits 
 and graces, and bearing the precious badge of their dig- 
 nity and honor by the nuptial robe of the Lamb with 
 which by an indefeasible right they are clothed. Yet 
 they are now in a state of suffering, and endure greater 
 
 ii " 
 
 I 111 
 
 !i 
 
M4 
 
 rURCJATORY. 
 
 « 
 
 torments than it is possible for any one to suffer, or for 
 our iniai^ination to represent to itself in this mortal 
 life. . . . St. Ciusarius of Aries writes: "A person," 
 says he, " may say, I am not mueh concerned how lonjj;' I 
 remain in Purf^atory, provided 1 may come to eternal 
 life. Let no one reason thus, i^irji^atory lire will he more 
 dreadful than whatever torments can be seen, imaj^ined, 
 or endured in this world. And how does any one know 
 whether he will stay days, months, or years? He who is 
 afraid now to put his finger into the fire, does he not 
 fear lest he be then all buried in torments for a lonj^ 
 time. . . . The Church approves perpetual anniver- 
 saries for the dead ; for some souls may be detained in 
 pains to the end of the world, though after the day of 
 judgment no third state can exist. ... If we have 
 lost any dear friends in Christ, while we confide in His 
 mercy, and rejoice in their passage from the region of 
 death to that of life, light, and eternal joy, we have reason 
 to fear some lesser stains may retard their bliss. In this 
 uncertainty let us earnestly recommend them to the 
 divine clemency. . . . Perhaps, the souls of some 
 dear friends may be suffering on our account ; perhaps, 
 for their fondness for us, or for sins of which we were the 
 occasion, by scandal, provocation, or otherwise, in which 
 case motives not only of charity, but of justice, call upon 
 U3 to endeavor to procure them all the relief in our 
 power. . . . Souls delivered and brought to glory 
 b}^ our endeavors will amply repay our kindness by ob- 
 taining divine graces for us. God Himself will be in- 
 clined by our charity to show us also mercy, and to 
 shower down upon us His most precious favors. "Blessed 
 are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." By hav- 
 ing shown this mercy to the suffering souls in Purgatory, 
 we shall be particularly entitled to be treated with mercy 
 at our departure hence, and to share more abundantly in 
 the general suffrages of the Church, continually offered 
 for all that have slept in Christ. 
 
.? 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS, 
 
 We know them not, nor- hear the sound 
 They make in treading all around : 
 Their office sweet and mighty prayer 
 Float without echo through the air; 
 Yet sometimes, in unworldly places, 
 
 Soft sorrow's twilight vales, 
 We meet them with uncovered faces, 
 
 Outside their golden pales, 
 Though dim, as they must ever be, 
 Like ships far-off and out at sea. 
 
 With the sun upon their sails. 
 
 — Fabrr. 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
 k 
 
 
 
 
 
 f 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ■ i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 i 
 
 
 I 
 
 « I 
 
 f 
 
 1 
 
 I 
 
 h 
 
 It i 
 
 i .I'l 
 
L 
 
I I 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 THE FRUIT OF A MASS. 
 
 The incident we are about to relate and which, in some 
 way, only the price of the first Mass paid for, reminds us 
 of another which seems to be also the fruit of a single 
 Mass given under the inspiration of faith. This fact is 
 found in the life of St. Peter Damian, and we are happy 
 to reproduce it here, in order to tell over again the mar- 
 vels of God in those He loves, and to make manifest that 
 charity for ^! e poor souls brings ever and always its own 
 reward. 
 
 Peter, surnamed Damian, was born in 988, at Ravenna, 
 in Italy. His family was poor, and he was the youngest 
 of several children. He lost his father and mother while 
 still Ycry young, and was taken by one of his brothers to 
 his home. But Damian was treated there in a very in- 
 human manner. He was regarded rather as a slave, or, 
 at least, as a base menial, than as the brother of the master 
 of the house. He was deprived of the very necessaries of 
 life, and, after being made to work like a hired servant, 
 he was loaded with blows. When he was older, they 
 gave him charge of the swine. 
 
 Nevertheless, Peter Damian, being endowed with rare 
 virtue, received all with patience as coming from God. 
 This sweet resignation on the part of a child was most 
 pleasing to the Lord, and He rewarded him by inspiring 
 him to a good action. 
 
 One day the little Damian, leading his flocks to the pas- 
 ture, found on the way a small piece of money. Oh ! how 
 rejoiced he was ! How his heart swelled within him ! 
 
148 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 II 
 
 . 
 
 I 
 ii 
 
 If 
 
 il 
 
 Ii 
 
 He clapped his hands joyfully, thJnking himself quite 
 rich, and already he began to calculate all he could do 
 with his money. Suggestions were not wanting, for he 
 was in need of everything. 
 
 Nevertheless, the noble child took time to reflect ; a 
 sudden shadow fell on the fair heaven of his happy 
 thoughts. He all at once remembered that his father, his 
 poor mother who had so loved hiir., might be still suffer- 
 ing cruel torments in the place of expiation. And de- 
 spising his own great necessities, and generously making 
 the sacrifice of what was for him a treasure, Damian, 
 raised above himself and his wants by the thought of his 
 beloved parents, brought his money to a priest, to have 
 the Holy Sacrifice offered for them. 
 
 That generous child had obeyed a holy inspiration, and 
 this good deed of his was quickly rewarded. Fortune 
 suddenly changed with him. He was taken by another of 
 his brothers, who took all possible care of him. Seeing 
 that the child had such excellent dispositions, he made him 
 begin to study. He sent him first to Florence, then to 
 a famous school in Parma, where he had for his master 
 the celebrated Ivo. The brilliant qualities of Damian 
 were rapidly developed, and soon he became professor 
 where he had been a pupil. He afterwards gave up the 
 world and became a religious, and was, in course of time, 
 not only a remarkable man, but a great saint. He was 
 charged by the Holy wSee with affairs the most important, 
 and died clothed in the Roman purple. He is still a great 
 light in the Church, and his writings are always full of 
 piety and erudition. 
 
 The little Damian, then, might well think that he pos- 
 sessed a treasure in his little coin, since with it he pur- 
 chased earthly honors and heavenly bliss. We all of us 
 have often had in our hand Damian's little piece of 
 money, but have we known how to make a treasure of it? 
 
 Alumnae of the Souls in Purgatory, 1877. 
 
 It 
 
 ^ 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 149 
 
 a 
 
 '-4 
 
 THE FAITH OF A PIOUS LADY. 
 
 " In the course of the month of July of last year," said 
 a zealous member of our Association for the Souls in 
 Purgatory," I was accosted by one of our associates who 
 told me, with an exuberance of joy, ' Ah ! we have great 
 
 reason to thank the souls in Purgatory ; I 
 
 beg 
 
 you to 
 
 unite with us in thanking them for the favor they have 
 just done us.' * Indeed ? Well ! I am very happy to hear 
 it. Has anything extraordinary happened to you ? Tell 
 me, if you please, what seems to cause you so much joy ? ' 
 
 " Then our fervent associate — a young man of a mild 
 and pleasing aspect, usually somewhat reserved, but of 
 gentlemanly bearing — said, in a tone of deep emotion : 
 
 " * I am rejoiced to tell you, in the first place, that I 
 have the happiness of still having my good mother. God 
 seems to leav - her on the earth to complete the work of 
 her purificat'': -ft- she is always sick and sutTering, and, 
 as she says he '', there is neither rest nor peace for her 
 here below ; nevertheless, she resigns herself so patiently 
 to the sufferings and tribulations which weigh so heavily 
 upon her that it does me a twofold good every time I see 
 her, for I love her as my mother, I venerate her as a 
 saint. 
 
 ** * One day, then, last week, finding herself a little 
 stronger, she thought she would take a short drive, being 
 in the country for her health. The drive seemed really 
 to do her good ; the beauty of the country, and still more, 
 the fresh, pure air, appeared to revive her, and altogether 
 she enjoyed her drive immensely. Her heart, as well as 
 her mind, was changed, for you know there is often a 
 sickness of the head, as of the body. She already began 
 to flatter herself with the hope of a speedy recovery, 
 when, in the midst of the drive which was having so 
 beneficial an effect, the horse, from some unknown cause, 
 suddenly took fright, and, taking the bit between his 
 teeth, started off at a fearful pace. 
 
I50 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 y 
 
 i 
 
 ) t\ 
 
 " ' Imagine the terror of my poor mother ! On either 
 side the road was a broad, deep ditch, and the rough, un- 
 even soil caused the carriage to ; ^\t fearfully, which was 
 another great danger; and, as it so often happens in the 
 country, the road was deserted, and no one to be seen 
 who might give any assistance. 
 
 " * To crown all, it happened that the servant who drove 
 my mother, in his efforts to restrain the horse in his head- 
 long flight, had the misfortune to break the reins, which 
 were their only chance of guiding the animal in his mad 
 career. 
 
 " ' Ah ! how can I describe the feelings of my poor dear 
 mother, already so sick and so feeble ; in fact, she Avas 
 almost dead with fright. She thought every moment that 
 she was going to be thrown into the ditch, or dashed 
 against the stake paling which bordered the road on 
 either side. She was nearly in despair, when all at once 
 the thought occurred to her to promise a Mass for the 
 Souls in Purgatory, if the horse stopped. 
 
 " ' And what do you think ? — Ah ! I am still so agitated 
 myself, that I can hardly tell it ! — But, wonderful to relate, 
 that horse, in the wild excitement of his flight, without so 
 much as a thread to restrain him, who could not have been 
 stopped by any natural cause whatsoever, — that horse 
 stopped immediately, and one might say, suddenly, as 
 though a barrier were placed before him ! 
 
 " * It were utterly impossible to express my mother's 
 joy and gratitude. Her life will henceforth be but one 
 long act of thanksgiving ; for, without that unlooked-for 
 help it had certainly been all over with her. Oh, I be- 
 seech you help me to thank Heaven for so great a 
 favor.' " 
 
 This example will serve to show still more clearly that 
 God is pleased to manifest His power, even for the slight- 
 est service rendered to those whom He deigns to call His 
 " Beloved " of Purgatory. — Almatiac of the Souls in Purga- 
 tory. 1877. 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 w 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 151 
 
 in- 
 
 las 
 
 he 
 
 m 
 
 ^ 
 
 PAY WHAT THOU OWEST. 
 
 When the fathers of the Society of Jesus first estab- 
 lished their order in Kentucky, a wealthy and respected 
 Catholic citizen of Bardstown, Mr. S , sought admis- 
 sion among them, — although his age and lack of a thor- 
 ough preparatory education offered obstacles to his suc- 
 cess. He entered the Novitiate, only to be convinced 
 that it was too late for him to become a priest, as had 
 been prudently represented to him at the outset. How- 
 ever, his love for the Society had been strengthened by 
 his short stay in the sanctuary of the community, and 
 he resolved to devote himself to the service of the Fathers 
 in another way. He determined to secure a suitable res- 
 idence, and found a college, which, as soon as it was in a 
 flourishing condition, he would turn over to the Society. 
 
 With this object in view, Mr. S made dihgent in- 
 quiries, and advertised in various county newspapers for 
 a suitable residence in which to begin his good work. 
 One of his advertisements received a prompt reply from 
 the executors of an estate in C County. The prop- 
 erty offered for sale was unencumbered, its broad lands 
 under high cultivation, the mansion in good repair, 
 
 etc. Accompanied by a friend, Mr. S hastened to 
 
 visit the plantation. He found one v/ing of the house oc- 
 cupied by the overseer ard his family, and observed with 
 pleasure that the advertisement seemed not to have ex- 
 aggerated the value of the estate. 
 
 Mr S and his friend tarried over night, and were 
 
 assigned separate apartments, which the administrators 
 had ordered to be kept in readiness for the reception of 
 prospective purchasers. Although greatly fatigued by a 
 long ride on horseback over ill-kept roads, neither of the 
 gentlemen could sleep, on account of a wearisome, inces- 
 sant knocking in an adjoining room. Each believing the 
 other to be sound asleep, forbore to awake his tired com- 
 
 I 
 
 ; I 
 
 ni 
 
w 
 
 M 
 
 ' 
 
 l\ 
 
 152 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 panion, but when they met at an early breakfast, they 
 both, as in one breath, inquired of the farmer's wife the 
 cause of the continuous tapping in the adjoining apart- 
 ment. Mrs. F exchanged a significant glance with 
 
 her husband, and a sort of grim smile overspread the face 
 of the latter. After a moment's hesitation, he declared 
 that he and his wife, and the servants on the estate, had 
 in vain tried to find out the cause. All who slept in those 
 two rooms heard the noise, and could not sleep. Both 
 husband and wife assured their guests that the knocking 
 took place in the apartment always occupied, during 
 
 her lifetime, by Mrs. G , the late owner of the estate ; 
 
 furthermore, that the disturbance was unknown before 
 her death. Mr. S and his companion naturally be- 
 came more and more interested, and after suggesting all 
 the ordinary causes of unusual and mysterious knocks, 
 such as rats, cats, chip-munks, creaking doors, broken 
 
 shutters, and the like, rode off with Mr. F to make a 
 
 thorough examination of the estate. 
 
 The two gentlemen rode all over the plantation, con- 
 ferred with the executors and some lawyers, and after in- 
 specting the house thoroughly, sat down to a dinner that 
 was highly creditable to the hostess, who seemed anxious 
 concerning the disclosures of the morning. When night 
 came on, tlie visitors were shown to the same rooms they 
 had previously occupied. In the morning each spoke 
 again of his inability to get any refreshing sleep, and as 
 
 they rode back to B , talking over dreams, visions, 
 
 and other supernatural occurrences, they asked them- 
 selves, might not this knocking have a supernatural 
 cause? Concluding it might have, they considered it 
 would be well to lay the case before the Rev. Father 
 O ; at least, they could go and tell him of their jour- 
 ney into C County, and also of the mysterious knock- 
 ing, if it seemed to come in naturally; for each felt a little 
 dread of beins: lausrhed at as too credulous. In the 
 course of their conversation with the Father, the full de- 
 tails of what they had learned and had personally experi- 
 
 I 
 
 \i 
 
 t« 
 
f 
 
 1 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 153 
 
 enced were related. Father O- 
 
 - seemed to consider 
 the occurrence quite easily accounted for by some phys- 
 ical cause ; but when the gentlemen recalled to his atten- 
 tion the circumstance of Mrs. G 's death, he appeared 
 
 to take another view of the matter. 
 
 Finally, it was decided that Father Q and a brother 
 
 priest should accompany Mr. S and his friend to the 
 
 plantation, for a personal investigation. Soon after thei 
 arrival at the mansion the priests, preceded by the ser- 
 vants of the family, Mr. and Mrs. ^' , and the two vis- 
 itors, repaired to the mysterious chamber. When a little 
 Holy Water had been sprinkled about the room, there 
 was a cessation of the knocking, and after reciting some 
 
 prayers. Father Q inquired, in Latin, of whatever 
 
 spirit might be there the cause of the disturbance. He 
 was distinctly answered in the same tongue that the soul 
 of Mrs. G could not rest in peace, because of an un- 
 cancelled debt to the shoemaker, Mr. . The interloc- 
 utor was assured that the matter should be attended to 
 at once. Thereupon the knocking re-commenced and 
 continued. 
 
 All were painfully surprised, but thanked God that it 
 would be so easy a matter to settle the debt. The Rosary 
 was then recited by the assembly, most of whom had 
 supposed that the priests were present to bless the house. 
 
 Without delay, Mr. S. and Father Q repaired to the 
 
 shop of the village shoemaker, and begged him to present 
 any bill that he might have against the estate of the 
 
 late Mrs. G . The shoemaker said that he did not 
 
 believe there was anything due to him, for payments 
 had always been made very punctually. However, he 
 ran over his account-book, and declared that he found 
 nothing. In sorrowful surprise, the two friends then 
 took their departure, telling the shoe dealer that if, at 
 any time, he should find aught against the property, to 
 inform them without delay. 
 
 On his return home, the shoemaker related to his 
 mother whai, had happened in the shop. After reflection. 
 
 lL.JtJ,iJ.."-.JP,ttJlU...lJ-i|JilPIiiiJ 
 
I 
 
 154 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 she asked if he had looked over his father's accounts. 
 "Certainly not/' he said. She then remarked that the 
 
 request was only half complied with, for Mrs. G had 
 
 long been his father's customer. After dinner, they re- 
 paired to the attic, and, searching out the old ledgers, 
 went over them carefully. To their surprise they found 
 a bill of twelve dollars and a half, for a pair of white satin 
 
 slippers (probably Mrs. G 's wedding shoes), which, 
 
 in the midst of various affairs, had remained unsettled. 
 A messenger was sent with all speed to the mansion. 
 
 On the way he chanced to meet Father Q and Mr. 
 
 S . The bill, with interest, was paid on the spot, and, 
 
 returning to the house, they learned from the astonished 
 and delighted tenants that the rappings had suddenly 
 and entirely ceased. 
 
 Shortly after, Mr. S became the owner of the 
 
 estate, the heirs of which, preferring to live in Europe, 
 had permitted its sale, in order to divide and enjoy the 
 
 proceeds. As Mr. S had planned, a college was 
 
 there founded, and before long it was under the control 
 of the Society of his aspirations and his enthusiastic love. 
 — Ave Maria, Nov. 15, 1884. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 
1 
 
 I 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 155 
 
 THE VIA CRUCIS. 
 
 In November, 1849, Prince Charles Lowenstein Wer- 
 thcim Rosenberg died. A lady who filled a subordinate 
 office in his family as governess, communicated to the au- 
 thor the incidents which follow. At the prince's death- 
 bed, which she was permitted to visit, she made a vow to 
 say certain prayers daily for the repose of his soul, in 
 accordance with a wish which he had expressed. When 
 the family was residing at the castle of Henbach on the 
 Maine, it was this lady's habit to spend a short time every 
 evening in the private chapel. After one of those visits, 
 about three months after the prince's death, she retired 
 to rest, and in the course of the night had a singular 
 dream. She was in the chapel, kneeling in a tribune ; 
 opposite to her was the high altar. She had spent some 
 time in prayer, when suddenly, on the steps of the altar, 
 she saw the tall figure of the deceased prince, kneeling 
 with great apparent devotion. Presently he turned tow- 
 ards her, and in his usual manner of addressing her, said : 
 " Dear child, come down to me here in the chapel ; I 
 want to speak to you," She replied that she would 
 gladly, but that the doors were all locked. He assured 
 her that they were all open. She went down to him, 
 taking her candle with her. When she came near him, 
 the prince rose to meet her, took her hand, and, without 
 speaking, led her to the altar, and they both knelt down 
 together. They prayed for some time in silence, then he 
 rose once more, and standing at the foot of the altar, 
 said : " Tell my children, my dear child, that their pray- 
 ers and yours are heard. Tell them that God has ac- 
 cepted the Via Crucis^ which they have daily made for 
 me, and your prayers also. I am with God in His glory, 
 and I will pray for all those who have so faithfully prayed 
 
 ' Way of the Cross, more commonly called the Stations of the Cross. 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 '<iii 
 
^r 
 
 156 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 'J 
 
 for mc." As he spoke, his face seemed lij:^htecl up as with 
 the glory usually painted round the head of a saint. 
 With a farewell look he vanished, and she awoke. 
 
 At breakfast she appeared agitated. She sat beside the 
 prince's granddaughter, i^rincess Adelaide Lijwenstein, 
 afterwards married to Don Miguel of Portugal. This 
 lady asked her what was the matter. She related her 
 dream, and then begged to know what prayers the 
 princesses had offered for the repose of his Highnesses* 
 soul. They Avere the Via Cruets, — Footsteps of Spirits} 
 
 STRANGE INCIDENTS. 
 
 When the Benedictine College at Ampleforth, in York- 
 shire, was building, a few years ago, one of the masons 
 attracted the attention of the community by the interest 
 which he took in the incidents of their daily life. He had 
 to walk from a village three miles off, so as to be at the 
 college every morning by six o'clock. He was first much 
 pleased with the regularity of the community, whom he 
 always found in the church, singing the Hours before 
 Mass, on his arrival in the morning. By degrees he Avas 
 taught the whole of the Catholic doctrine, and was re- 
 ceived into the Church. None of his family, however, 
 would follow his example. Exposure to cold and wet 
 brought on an illness, of which he died, in a very pious 
 manner. A short time after his death, his wife was one 
 morning sweeping about the open door of her house, 
 when her husband walked in, and sat down on a seat by 
 the fire, and began to ask her how she did. She an- 
 swered that she was well, and hoped he was happy where 
 he was. He replied that he was, at that time ; that, at 
 first, he had passed through Purgatory, and had under- 
 gone a brief purification ; but that, when this was ended, 
 
 ' Published by Burns & Laml)crt of London. 
 
 \ 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 : I 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 157 
 
 ! 
 
 he had been taken to the enjoyment of the bliss of God in 
 heaven. He remained talking to her some little time 
 Ioniser, then he bade her farewell, and disappeared. 
 
 The woman applied to a Catholic i)riest for instruction ; 
 and it was found that, althouj:^h she had never in her life 
 read a Catholic book, nor conversed about the Catholic 
 religion with any one, she had acquired a complete 
 knowledge of the doctrine of Purgatory from that short 
 interview with her husband. She, too, became a Catholic. 
 The author was told this story by one who was a ii.cmber 
 of the community of Ampleforth at the time. 
 
 '/: '/! •» % ■/; * * 
 
 A missionary priest at B (in England), a very few 
 
 years ago, promised to say Mass for a woman in his con- 
 gregation who had died. Among other engagements of 
 the same kind, he unconsciously overlooked her claim upon 
 him. By and by her husband came to him, and begged 
 him to remember his promise. The missionary thought 
 that he had already done so. " Oh ! no, sir," the man 
 replied ; " I can assure you that you have not ; my poor 
 wife has been to me to tell me so, and to get you to do 
 this act of charity for her." The priest was satisfied of 
 his omission, and immediately supplied it. Soon after, the 
 poor man returned to thank him, at the woman's desire. 
 She had told her husband that now she was perfectly 
 happy in heaven ; her face, which had appeared much 
 disfigured at her first visit, was surrounded with a halo 
 of light when she came again. This anecdote reached 
 the author through a common friend of his own and of 
 the missionary. 
 
 -:<- * * * -x- vf * 
 
 A similar anecdote is told of a nun in the English con- 
 vent of Bruges, between thirty and forty years ago. A 
 relation of Canon Schmidt had died in the house, and 
 
 Miss L , another nun, much attached to her, saw her 
 
 friend one night in a dream. She seemed to come with a 
 serious countenance, and pointed to the Office for the 
 Dead in an office-book, which she appeared to hold in 
 
 'I 
 
158 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Her friend was much perplexed, and consulted 
 -, a third nun, wlio su^<^cstcd that perhaps Miss 
 
 her hand. 
 Miss N — 
 
 L had not said the Office three times, as usual, for her 
 
 deceased sister. Miss L was nearly sure that she 
 
 had ; but as she had a habit of marking off this obligation 
 as it was discharj^ed, it could be easily ascertained. On 
 examining her private note-book, it turned out that she 
 
 had not said the three Offices. Miss N 's sister, who 
 
 was educated in the same convent, told the author this 
 little story, and afterwards was good enough to revise his 
 narrative of it. So that this account is virtually her own. 
 Though seeming to have passed tii rough two channels on 
 its way to this book, that is, through the author's memory 
 and his friend's, yet having submitted to the latter a writ- 
 ten memorandum of the narrative, and received and 
 adopted his friend's corrections, the story is as authentic 
 as if it had passed through only one intermediate chan- 
 nel. For there is no doubt that the value of a story 
 diminishes rapidly with every additional hand through 
 which it passes. — Footsteps of Spirits, 1 13-14. 
 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS, 
 
 159 
 
 id 
 ss 
 cr 
 ic 
 ■on 
 
 i 
 
 A TRUE STORY OF THE "DE PROFUNDIS." 
 
 One cv 
 
 cning in 
 were gathered in 
 in Prince George 
 church had been rccen 
 
 the montli of July, 1 84 — , a happy group 
 Lhe wide porch of a well-known mansion 
 s County, Maryland. A little Catholic 
 
 tly built in the village of L by 
 
 the zealous and wealthy proprietor of " Monticello," and 
 as the means of the newly-formed congregation were too 
 limited to support a resident pastor, one o( the Reverend 
 Fathers from Georgetown kindly came out oncn a fort- 
 night to celebrate Mass and administer the Sacramc.'it:?. 
 
 On the eve of the fovored Sunday, Doctor j t'»ok his 
 
 carriage to the railway station and brought back the Rev- 
 erend Father named for that week's services ; ?.iid his 
 visit was always looked for with delight by all ihehoi'iSC- 
 hold at Monticello, domestics and children, bi't ')} Jionc. 
 so much as by three recent converts to our holy fa'ih, 
 who often took occasion to propound to thei) amiabl-; ,<rid 
 learned guest any doubts on religious questions thut h^d 
 arisen during the course of the intervening wecksu 
 
 On the evening above mentioned, the priest vrho came 
 
 was an Italian Jesuit, the Reverend Father G . He 
 
 held his little audience entranced with a fund of edifying 
 stories and interesting replies to the questions asksid. f he 
 calm serenity of the night, tiie gentle, refreshing bree/c 
 that came from a neighboring wood of pine-trees, tliC 
 beautiful glitter of the flitting glow-worm, and the lich 
 perfume wafted from the purple magnolia fjnvdi flora — all 
 added to the enchantment. The doctor broke the cliinni 
 by sayirg: "Reverend Father, we ?!hct;l be obliged to 
 leave early to-morrow morning, "^iie carriage will be 
 ready for you at 6 o'clock." 
 
 "Is it a long drivo to the church?" asked Father 
 G . 
 
 "No; only four miles," answered the doctor; ** but 
 there will be many confessions to hear and, perhaps, some 
 
 :iv/f 
 
J 
 
 k 
 
 i 
 
 M 
 
 
 
 160 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 baptisms to administer ; hence, unless the work is begun 
 early, Mass will not be over before 12 o'clock." 
 
 " I hope, then," replied the Father, smiling, " that you 
 will not fail to awake betimes." 
 
 "As to that," rejoined the doctor, "when I have to 
 arise at any particular time, I recite a Dc Profundis for the 
 relief of the suffering souls, and I am sure of awaking 
 promptly at the right hour." 
 
 " I can easily credit that," said Father G . 
 
 " It is a pious practice which was recommended to me 
 by the late Dr. Ryder, of Georgetown, when I was at the 
 College," said the host ; ** and I have never found that 
 any one to whom I taught the practice failed to find it 
 truly efficacious." 
 
 " If it would not detain you too long beyond your cus- 
 tomary hours," said Father G , " I would add to my 
 
 long list of anecdotes one more on the Dc Profundis.'" 
 
 All present besought the priest to favor them ; in truth, 
 the worthy household never wearied of pious conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " It happened," began the good priest, with religious 
 modesty, " that about twenty years ago I accompanied a 
 number of prominent members of our Society who had 
 been summoned to the Mother House, in Rome, on 
 business of importance. The Fathers carried with them 
 precious documents from their several provinces ; and, 
 besides the purse necessary to meet their current travel- 
 ling expenses, certain contributions from churches as 
 Peter's Pence, and donations for the General of the So- 
 ciety. Our way lay across the Apennines, and we were 
 numerous enough to fill a large coach. We knew that 
 the fastnesses of the mountains were infested by outlawed 
 bands, and we had been careful to select an honest driver. 
 Before setting out, it was agreed that we should place 
 ourselves under the protection of the Holy Souls by re- 
 citing a De Profundis every hour. At a given signal, 
 mental or vocal prayer, reading or recreation, would be 
 suspended, and the psalm recited in unison. 
 
ANECDOTES AND I.nCIDENTS. 
 
 l6l 
 
 ** Luigi, the driver, had been instructed, in case of any 
 apparent danger, to make three distinct taps on the roof 
 of our vehicle with the heavy end of his whip. We trav- 
 elled the whole day undisturbed, without other interrup- 
 tions than those called for by the observance of our itin- 
 erary. Just as the evening twilight began, we reached 
 the summit of a lofty mountain. The air was cool, the 
 scenery wild and majestic, and each of us seemed ab- 
 sorbed in the pleasant glimpses of the receding land- 
 scapes, when we were startled by three ominous knocks 
 on the roof of our coach. Before we could ask any ques- 
 tions, Luigi had given his horses such blows as nearly 
 made them throw us out of the vehicle, and sent the ani- 
 mals running at a break-neck speed. We looked, we list- 
 ened, and, to our amazement and horror, beheld about a 
 dozen bandits on either side of the road, with arms up- 
 lifted, and holding deadly weapons, as if ready and deter- 
 mined to strike with well-aimed precision. But, strange 
 to say, they all remained as motionless as statues, until 
 we had gone on so far as to leave them a mere speck on 
 the descending horizon. 
 
 ** Each one of our party had kept exterior silence, but 
 inwardly put his trust in the Most High. At last, Luigi 
 halted. His horses were white with foam, and panting 
 as if they would never breathe naturally again. 
 
 " A miracle ! " cried Luigi, signing himself with the 
 mystic Sign ; " may God and Our Lady be praised ! t 
 tell you, Fathers, it is a miracle that we are not dead 
 
 men 
 
 t " 
 
 " * Indeed, a very special protection of Divine Provi- 
 dence ! ' said the superior pro tcm. ; * and we must all 
 thank God with our whole hearts.* 
 
 " ' I tell you,' broke in Luigi, * those were horrible 
 men ; I never saw any look fiercer.' 
 
 '" Then, as soon as your horses are able, we had better 
 move on. Shall you be obliged to change tlicm before 
 we get to our proposed stopping-place ? ' asked the supe- 
 rior. 
 
 I III f I s 
 1 
 
 ' 
 
1.— M— wi m iw^ 
 
 t J 
 
 ill 
 
 162 
 
 PURGATORY". 
 
 *• ' Oh, we must not stop to change ! we should be 
 tracked by some of their spies. We had better go on ; 
 and, as the road descends gently, I think this team will 
 make the remainder of the route.' 
 
 " ' Well,' said our superior, as we re-entered the coach, 
 ' we must all ofler a Mass in thanksgiving to-morrow ; ' to 
 which we all heartily assented, and found subject for con- 
 versation the rest of the way in recalling the particulars 
 of our wondrous escape. 
 
 " Holy obedience afterwards stationed me," continued 
 the Reverend Father, " at the Gesu. About two years 
 later, I was called upon to instruct a prisoner condemned 
 to capital punishment. * He appears to have been a des- 
 perate man,' said the jailer, as he drew aside the enormous 
 bolts of iron that held fast the door of a corridor leading 
 to a dismal dungeon ; * now, however, he is a little sub- 
 dued ; he even seems contrite at times, and I hope he will 
 die penitent.' 
 
 " I visited the prisoner several times ; he was always 
 glad to see me, but it cost him a great effort to open his 
 heart, and make a full confession. His birth and parent- 
 age, and advantages for a liberal education, should have 
 brought him to a widely-different destiny. He had loved 
 adventure naturally, but had taken a wrong direction. 
 He might have become a famous military man, whereas 
 he was only a rough, desperate highwayman. To win 
 him to God, I began to listen to narratives of his wild 
 brigand exploits. I affected to be interested in these 
 daring adventures, and then succeeded in pointing out to 
 him the sin that abounded in each and every act. One 
 day, as he was speaking of the latest years of his life, I 
 was greatly surprised to hear him recount the identical 
 incident with which I began my story. He described to 
 me in the most graphic terms the wonderful manner in 
 which his hands and those of his comrades had been held 
 by an invisible, irresistible power, saying that they had 
 returned to their mountain haunts perfectly dismayed ; 
 that some of them appeared to have a vague and consci- 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 163 
 
 entious alarm, though revelry and song soon banished 
 such misgivings. He told me that they knew the carriage 
 was full of Jesuit priests, and that they had been promised 
 a great pecuniary reward by a prominent member of the 
 Freemason Society if they should succ-v^d in seizing our 
 luggage. 
 
 " I then made known to my penitent my share in that 
 providential escape ; he at once fell on his knees, wept 
 long and bitterly, and finally asked my forgiveness, I 
 prepared him for his dreadful end, and believe he died at 
 peace with God, so great is the mercy of Jesus to the 
 contrite soul, * even though his sins be as scarlet.' I asked 
 his permission to narrate the particulars of his portion of 
 the story, and he gladly gave it, hoping to merit something 
 for his sin-burdened soul by that act of humility." 
 
 We were all much impressed by the Reverend Father's 
 narrative, and as we bade one another good-night, the 
 doctor remarked that a kind deed performed for others 
 was sure to merit a blessing in return, even though it were 
 so small a favor as that gained by his favorite practice of 
 saying the De Profimdis. 
 
 " Yes," said Father G , " charity never fails." — Ave 
 
 Maria, Nov. 24th, 1883. 
 
PURGATORY. 
 
 CONFIDENCE REWARDED. 
 
 The following fact took place in Montreal, Canada, 
 some three or four years since. We shall leave the zeal- 
 ous member of our association who related it to us to tell 
 his own story : 
 
 " One morning," said he, " coming back from Mass, I 
 
 saw Mr. C , who was also coming out of the church. 
 
 He was a worthy man, fearing God and fulfilling his du- 
 ties faithfully and conscientiously. I said to myself: 
 
 * There is a man who deserves to belong to our associ- 
 ation.' For is it not always a favor when God deems us 
 worthy to do something for Him ? 
 
 *' I approached and asked him if he would not like to be- 
 come a member of our association. * What association? ' 
 
 * The Association of the Way of the Cross and Masses. It 
 is to relieve the dead by prayer and alms, two powerful 
 means.' ' Ah ! I knew nothino; of it. What has to be 
 done ? ' * It suffices to make the Way of the Cross once a 
 week and pay for a Mass once a month.' ' I love the souls 
 in Purgatory,' he said, 'and I do all I canto relieve them. 
 But, you see, things are not going well with me just now. 
 1 have been a long time sick, and am hardly able yet to 
 discharge my ordinary duties.' 
 
 *' At these words I cast my eyes on the speaker, and saw 
 what I had not before noticed, that he looked pale and 
 worn. He went on : 'As for paying anything, it would 
 be impossible for me to do it ; 1 have contracted debts, 
 and if my ill health should continue,' he added, in a falter- 
 ing voice, ' I shall be obliged to sell my little house.' 
 Then he stopped, his heart evidently full, and tears in his 
 eyes. ' But Providence watches over you, and nothing 
 happens without God's good leave. Tf a single hair ot 
 our head cannot fall unless He will it, what have you to 
 fear ? Do something for God whilst you can. If you arc 
 liberal to Him, He will be more so towards you. Do 
 
 M^ 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 165 
 
 you remember the promise Our Lord made to St. Ger- 
 trude ? * I will give an hundred-fold,' said He, ' for all 
 thou shalt do for my beloved ones in Purgatory.' This 
 promise was not for St. Gertrude alone ; it was likewise 
 for you. For one dollar that you give, you will gain ten ; 
 and if you are resolved to help the poor souls all you 
 can, they w^ill get you health to do it.' * Ah! what you 
 say touches me much, and truly I know not what to do.' 
 After a moment's hesitation, he quickl}^ resumed : ' Well, 
 sir, although I am actually in distress, I am going to try ; 
 it may be the best means of getting out of it.' ' Yes, try ; 
 we run no risk when w^e make the Holy Souls our 
 debtors.' 
 
 " At these words, he drew from his pocket a small 
 purse which contained only half a dollar. ' There is all 
 my wealth, and I am happy to share it with you,' and 
 he gave me the stipend for a Mass. ' I will perhaps put 
 myself to some inconvenience in giving you that sum, 
 trifling though it be ; but, blessed be God ! I will bear 
 with the inconvenience, thinking that those who suffer 
 much more than I will obtain some relief in their cruel 
 torments. I will also pray for them, and that they may 
 obtain for me the resignation wdiich is so pleasing to God.' 
 
 " When I saw the noble sentiments of this man, I shook 
 him by the hand, warmly thanked him, and reminded 
 him that God was always touched by such acts, and that 
 He knew how to reward them. 
 
 " From that moment, strange to say, that frail, delicate 
 man began to recover his strength, work came back to 
 his shop, and everything grew brighter around him. 
 And, as an additional reward fn^ni Heaven, he was ani- 
 mated by a new zeal for the Holy Souls, for he not only 
 paid his own little contribution regularly, but he also col- 
 lected the money for as many Masses as he could on one 
 side and another. 
 
 '' Six or seven months thus passed away amid ever in- 
 creasing prosperity, when one day he said to me in pres- 
 ence of several persons : * Last autumn, before I gave my 
 
 : J? 
 
i I 
 
 .!* 
 
 i66 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 name to the Association for the Souls in Purgatory, I was 
 so sick and so discouraged that I thought I should die ; 
 but when I had paid for my first Mass, from that moment, 
 as all may see, my health began to return, and with it my 
 courage. To-day, as you see, I am perfectly well. More- 
 over, I have found means to pay off one hundred and 
 fifty dollars of debt, and to have fifty dollars' worth of re- 
 pairs made to my little house. How has all that been 
 done ? I know not : for you will admit that, by a poor 
 shoemaker such as I, who works at his bench and with- 
 out even an apprentice, after such a hard winter, and 
 without any advance before me, to find means, despite all 
 that, to provide for the support of his family and pay two 
 hundred dollars over and above, is something extraor- 
 dinary. 
 
 " ' But I know well to whom I owe it all ; hence,' he 
 added, with a smile, ' that has given me new zeal. Now, 
 I work not only for myself; every evening I go out col- 
 lecting for our good Souls in Purgatory, and, blessed be 
 God ! I have got one hundred and fifty dollars for the 
 Association of Masses. Have I not, sir ? ' he added, ad- 
 dressing the treasurer, who was present. 
 
 " * Yes, you have, indeed, collected one hundred and 
 fifty dollars, perhaps something more, by twenty-five 
 cents here and twenty-five cents there, with a persever- 
 ance and a zeal beyond all praise, and well deserving of 
 the favors you have received.' 
 
 " *Ah ! ' said this worthy man, so admirable in his sim- 
 plicity and the fervor of his conA'iction, ' it is that I still 
 desire something; I now expect that they will make me 
 better,' and he sighed. 
 
 " Thus was this good man rewarded for his confidence 
 in the Souls in Purgatory, and such was his gratitude to 
 them." — Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory, 1877. 
 
 ^^^ 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 167 
 
 ANECDOTE OF THE '«DE PROFUNDIS." 
 
 I ONCE heard an anecdote of a good priest who was in 
 the habit of saying the Dc Profiindis every day for the 
 Souls in Purgatory, but, happening one day to omit it, 
 either through inadvertence or press of occupation, he 
 was passing through a cemetery about the close of day, 
 when he suddenly heard, through the hushed silence of 
 the lonely place and the solemn evening's hour, a mourn- 
 ful voice repeating the first words of the beautiful psalm 
 — De Profundis clamavit Domini — then it stopped, but the 
 priest, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock, 
 and remembering with bitter self-reproach his omission, 
 took up the words where the supernatural voice had left 
 off, and finished the recitation of the De Profundis^ resolv- 
 ing, as he did so, that, for the time to come, nothing 
 should prevent him from reciting it every day, and more 
 than once in the day, for the benefit of the dear suffering 
 Souls. 
 
 A STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN A PERSIAN PRISON. 
 
 There is a very strange story concerning Purgatory 
 related by St. John the Almoner, Patriarch of Alexandria, 
 in the end of the sixth and the beginning of the seventh 
 century. A little before a great mortality which took place 
 in that city, several inhabitants of the Island of Cyprus 
 were carried off to Persia and cast into a prison so severe 
 that it was called the Oblivion. Some of them, however, 
 succeeded in making their escape and returned to their 
 own country. A father and mother, whose son had been 
 carried off with the others, asked them for tidings of their 
 son. " Alas ! " said they, " your son died on such a day ; 
 we ourselves had the Sad consolation of giving him 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 ' 
 
 i 11 
 
 I 
 
 it 
 
1 68 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 buriiJ " TK 
 
 had done three times every venr " '°"' ■ '^is they 
 the same intention. But ~il "'?"'"*? '" P'^y^r for 
 this son, so much reo-rctterr r n^ '° '"'^'^'t'-' •' one div 
 
 He"f' ;■? •'" '^^''^ ^-" cf't, re :",2 '"r-bered, eat^ 
 He had been supposed dead fn^f '"'"''='f ""» 'heir arms 
 "I've, he whom the other J° /''"'' ^i^^'''^'^^' ^-as reaTly 
 ''ad a jrreat resemblance to hlTZt •''"'^, ''""'^'^ ^^"4 
 rfally thou, dear son ? Qh "l " =" '^ ''"• " How ! is i^ 
 Three times ci-cry yeJ w. i , *" "°"™ed for thee- 
 
 „ °" «^^'>"'y days of Christma's F. f^^^^^ed the son. 
 Preasely - " ,,e e.vclaimed < oi ^u^"' ""'^ ^^n'-cost.- 
 each time, an officer radiant' w.Vl i ?^ '"'''■>' ''ays I saw 
 and takinsroff my chaiL opened '^'1*' ^^'"^ ^'™'= ^ me 
 J went forth into the citv ? , ''°'"'^ °^ my prison 
 without any one appeari^; T^"^- ''^'''''''' 'wished' 
 
 -;ni„^, I ,, roZT'Z^^ Z:T\ "">'• '" 'he 
 
 my dungeon. It ,vas the fruiV "'"'^"'o"sly chained in 
 ■f Ihad been in iCatort i >'°"'" ^°°^ ''"y'^rs, and 
 the same time to reheye me ■ I h^' "'""''' ''^^'^ ^^ryed at 
 
 nL^er" *^ ^-'' «oTshL ^Tfit'tr°^r^°^^^' 
 
 M! 
 
 '3"*.»r^"W,i U 1 ..I nil III 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 169 
 
 A SWISS PROTESTANT CONVERTED BY THE DOCTRINE 
 
 OF PURGATORY. 
 
 I HAVE somewhere read, says a Catholic writer, that a 
 Swiss Protestant was converted to the true rehgion solely 
 on account of our having the consoling doctrine of I'ur- 
 gatory, whereas Protestants will not admit of it. He was a 
 Lutheran somewhat advanced in age, and he had a brother 
 who passed for a worthy man, as the world goes, but had 
 also the misfortune of being a Protestant. He fell sick, 
 and notwithstanding the care of several physicians, died, 
 and was buried by a Protestant minister of Berne. His 
 death was a terrible blow to the brother of whom I speak. 
 Hoping to dissipate his grief he tried travelling, but the 
 thought of his brother's eternal destiny pursued him 
 everywhere. He one day, on board a steamer, made the 
 acquaintance of a Catholic priest, with whom he entered 
 into conversation. Confidence was soon established be- 
 tween them ; they spoke of death, and the afflicted trav- 
 eller asked the priest what he thought of it. " What I 
 think is this," replied the priest : " When a man has per- 
 fectly discharged all his duties to God, his neighbor and 
 himself, he goes straight to heaven ; if he have not dis- 
 charged them, or have neglected any of those which are 
 essential, he goes straight to hell ; but if he have only to 
 reproach himself with those trifling faults which are in- 
 separable from our frail nature, he spends some time in 
 Purgatory." At these words the listener smiled with 
 evident relief and satisfaction ; he felt consoled. " Sir," 
 cried he, '* I will become a Catholic, and for this reason : 
 Protestants only admit of heaven and hell ; but, in order 
 to get to Paradise, one must have nothing wherewith to 
 reproach himself. Now, although my brother was a good 
 man, he was by no means free from those slight faults of 
 which you spoke just now. He wdll not be damned for 
 these faults, but they will prevent him from going to 
 
 
 f 
 
r 
 
 I 
 
 170 
 
 rURGATOKY. 
 
 heaven ; there must, therefore, be an intermediate place 
 wherein to expiate them ; lience, there must be a Purga- 
 tory. I will be a Catholic, so as to have the consolation 
 of praying for my brother.'' — The CatccJiisin in Examples, 
 pp. 141-2. 
 
 THE DEAD HAND. 
 
 Sister Teresa Margaret Gesta was struck by apo- 
 plexy on the 4th of November, 1859, without any pre- 
 monitory symptoms to forewarn her of her clanger ; and, 
 without recovering consciousness, she breathed her last 
 at four o'clock in the afternoon of the same day. Her 
 companions were plunged into the deepest sorrow, for the 
 Sister was a general favorite ; but they resigned them- 
 selves to the will of God. Whilst lamenting the death of 
 one who had been to them a model, comforter, and mother, 
 they consoled themselves by the remembranc:3 of the 
 virtues of which she was a splendid example, and of which 
 they never tired speaking. 
 
 Twelve days had passed since her death. Some of the 
 Sisters felt a certain kind of dread of going alone to the 
 places frequented by the departed one ; but Sister Anna 
 Felix Menghini, a person of a lively and pleasant dispo- 
 sition, often rallied them, good-humoredly, on their fears. 
 
 About ten o'clock in the forenoon, this same Sister 
 Anna, having charge of the clothing, was proceeding to 
 the work-room. Having gone up-stairs, she heard a 
 mournful voice, which at first she thought might be that 
 of a cat shut up in the clothes-press. She opened and ex- 
 amined it carefully, but found nothing. A sudden and 
 unaccountable feeling of terror came over her, and she 
 cried out: "Jesus, Mary, what can it be?'' She had 
 hardly uttered these words when she heard the same 
 mournful voice ns at first, which exclnimed in a gasping 
 sob: " O my God, how 1 suffer! " The religious, though 
 
 I 
 
 % 
 
k 
 
 :. 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 171 
 
 surprised and tremblinj^, recognized distinctly the voice 
 of Sister Teresa ; she pkicked up courage and asked her 
 "Why?" 
 
 " On account of poverty," answered the voice. 
 
 "What!" replied Sister Anna, "and you were so 
 poor ! " 
 
 " Not for me," was answered, " but for the nuns. . . . 
 If one is enough, why two? and if two arc suflicient, why 
 three ? . . . And you — beware for yoursell." 
 
 At the same time the whole room was darkened by a 
 thick smoke, and the shadow of Sister Teresa, moving 
 towards the exit, went up the steps, talking as it moved. 
 Sister Anna was so frightened that she could not make 
 out what the spirit said. Having reached the door, the 
 apparition spoke again : " This is a mercy of God I " And 
 in proof of the reality, with its open hand it struck the 
 upper panel of the door near the frame, leaving the im- 
 pression of the hand more perfect than it could have 
 been made by the most skillful artist with a hot iron. 
 
 Sister Anna was like Balthasar: "Then was the Kincf's 
 countenance changed, and his thoughts troubled him ; 
 and the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees 
 struck one against the other." (Dan.,v. 6>. She could 
 not stir for a considerable time ; she did. not even dare 
 to turn her head. But at last she tottered out and called 
 one of her companions, who, hearing her feeble, broken 
 words, ran to her with another Sister ; and presently the 
 whole community was gathered round in alarm. They 
 learned in a confused manner what had taken place, per- 
 ceived the smell of burnt wood, and noticed a whitish 
 cloud or mist that filled the room and made it almost 
 dark. They examined the door carefully though trem- 
 blingly, and recognized the fac-simile of Sister Teresa's 
 hand ; and, filled with terror, they fled to the choir. 
 
 There the Sisters, forgetting the need of food and rest, 
 remained in prayer till after sunset, abandoning ever}^- 
 thing in their anxiety to procure relief for their beloved 
 Sister Teresa, The zealous Minorite Fathers, who have 
 
 iM \ 
 i ' 
 
 
 MffffMnMRWPi 
 
 , iiu .iiiiiiiiipwrm^fni^nnevRR* 
 
 -A 
 
I f 1 
 
 i;2 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 the spiritual direction of the convent, learning what 
 had happened, were equally earnest in oflcring prayers 
 and sacrifice, and in singing tiic i)salms for the dead. 
 Many of the faithful likewise assembling, not through itilc 
 curiosity, but out of genuine piety, joined in the recita- 
 tion of the Rosary and other prayers, though the de- 
 ceased Sister was almost entirely unknown to the peoj)lc. 
 Her observance of the rule was very strict, and she 
 vScrui)ulously avoided all intercourse with pc()j)le outside 
 her convent. But still large numbers crowded to join in 
 those devotions for her. 
 
 wSister Anna, who was more worn out by excitement 
 than the other religious, was directed to retire early the 
 following night. She herself confesses that she was fully 
 resolved next day to remove, at any cost, the obnoxious 
 marks of the hand. But Sister Teresa appeared to her in 
 a dream, saying : " You intend to remove the sign which 
 I have left. Know that it is not in your power to do so, 
 even with the aid of others ; for it is there by the com- 
 mand of God, for the instruction of the people. By Mis 
 just and inexorable judgment I was condemned to the 
 dreadful fires of Purgatory for forty years on account 
 of my condescension to the will of some of the nuns. I 
 thank you and those who joined in so many prayers to 
 the Lord for me ; all of which He was pleased in His 
 mercy to accept as suffrages for me, and especially the 
 Seven Penitential Psalms, which were such a relief!" 
 And then, with a smiling countenance, she added : " Oh ! 
 blessed rags, that are rewarded with such rich gariuents ! 
 Oh ! happy poverty, that brings such glory to those who 
 truly observe it ! Alas ! how many suffer irreparable 
 loss, and are in torments, because, under the cloak of ne- 
 cessity, poverty is known and valued by few ! " 
 
 Finally, Sister Anna, lying down as usual on the night 
 of the 19th, heard her name distinctly pronounced by 
 Sister Teresa. She awoke, all in a tremor, and sat up, 
 unable to answer. Her astonishment was great when, 
 near the foot of the bed, she saw a globe of light that 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 ^71 
 
 made the cell as bright as noonday, and .she lieard the 
 spirit say in a joyful voice: " On the day of the I'assion I 
 died (on I'riday), and on the day of the Passion I j^o to 
 j^-lory. . . . vStrenj^th in the Cross ! . . . Courajj^e to 
 suffer! . . ." Then, saying' three times " Adieu ! " the 
 globe was transformed into a thin, white, shining cloud, 
 rose towards heaven, and disappeared. 
 
 The zealous Bishop of the diocese having heard of 
 these events, instituted the process of examination on the 
 23d of the same month. Tlic grave was opened in pres- 
 ence of a large number of persons assembled for the occa- 
 sion ; the impression of the hand on the door was com- 
 pared with the hand of the dead, and both were found to 
 correspond exactly. The door itself was set apart in a 
 safe place and guarded. Many persons being anxious to 
 see the impression, it was allowed to be visited, after a 
 certain lapse of time, and with due precautions, by such 
 as had secured the necessary permission. — Ave Maria, 
 Nov. 17, 1883. 
 
 ti M 
 
 ' 
 
 _J 
 
iWHH 
 
 ' 'V 
 
 174 PURGATORY. 
 
 A BEAUTIFUL EXAMPLE. 
 
 The following fact is related by the Treasurer of the 
 Association for the Souls in Purgatory. He himself was 
 personally cognizant of the circumstances of the case. 
 We leave him to speak : 
 
 " Mr. ," said he, " was one of our first and most 
 
 fervent associates. His devotedness for good works is 
 well known, so that he is everywhere regarded as an ac- 
 quisition in all pious enterprises. His exemplary con- 
 duct rendered him, moreover, one of the most precious 
 auxiliaries of the work. Hence his zeal, instead of slack- 
 ening, did but go on increasing ; and whereas, in the be- 
 ginning, his collection amounted only to some dollars, 
 after a while he often brought me forty or fifty dollars 
 for the suffering souls. Mav Heaven bless that fervent 
 associate, and may his exar Ae serve as a lesson to the 
 indifferent ! 
 
 " During o'jhteen months, or two years, this pious and 
 zealous member brought me every six months, — with 
 other moneys, — the sum of fifteen dollars which was thus 
 periodically sent him ; and each time that I asked him 
 whence this money came, he answered that he knew 
 nothing of it himself; that it was sent him by a worthy 
 man without further information, and so he brought it to 
 me without aski g, or knowing anything more. 
 
 " Desirous of getting to the bottom of this mystery, 
 I resolved to try and find out what it meant. I, one day, 
 
 asked Mr. to tell me the name of this generous 
 
 protector of the poor souls, for I was going to hunt him 
 up. — ' Oh ! * said he, * it is Such-a-one ; he lives a long way 
 off, towards Hochelaga,' but, indeed, I cannot tell you 
 the exact place.' 
 
 " Such vague information embanassed me no little. I, 
 nevertheless, took the City Directory, but, alas ! there 
 
 ' A suburban town or village of Montreal, situated, like the city, on the 
 banks of the St. Lawrence. 
 
 r 
 
 lii 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 175 
 
 were fully twenty-five persons of the same name. Re- 
 solved, however, to put an end to this uncertainty, I pro- 
 ceeded, with the little information I had, to the place 
 indicated to me ; I arrive at a house bearing the name 
 of the new benefactor of our work. I ^o in at a venture ; 
 it was a little shoe-store, scarcely fifteen feet square, 
 somewhat gloomy and not over-clean, owing, probablj-, 
 to the nature of the business carried on there ; the whole 
 appearance of the place was, indeed, very unlike one 
 where much money could be made. Going in, I per- 
 ceived sitting in the farther end of the store, a man whose 
 face was so expressive of goodness, so open and so calm, 
 that only a good conscience could leave so gracious an 
 imprint on the features, and I said to myself: * That is 
 he.' — Then I asked aloud : ' You arc Mr. wSuch-a-onc?' — 
 
 * That is my name,' he answered, with a pleasant smile. — 
 
 * But is it you who has sent us every six months for two 
 years, the sum of fifteen dollars, — thirty dollars a year, — 
 for the Souls in Purgatory, apart from your regular con- 
 tribution ? ' — ' Yes,' said he, quietly, and still witli the 
 same smile on his lips. — ' Ah ! ' said I, ' we are very grate- 
 ful to you, and the Holy Souls will surely be mindful of 
 you. I suppose you have a great compassion for those 
 poor souls who suffer so much, and that that insi)ircsyou 
 with zeal, and so you make up this sum amongst your 
 friends and neighbors ; or they, perhaps, bring it to your 
 house, quarter by quarter, as is done elsewhere ? ' — • No ! * 
 said he, still very quietly, ' no, it is my own little share.' — 
 
 * How ! your own little share? ' and instinctively I cast a 
 glance around the little store, which seemed hardly to jus- 
 tify the giving of such a sum. ' How ! your little share? 
 but we find it a very large and generous one, and we are 
 happy that your zeal and charity make it seem to you so 
 small. Heaven will bless you for it. Still there must be 
 something hidden under these gifts, so often repeated ; 
 the Holy Souls must have done you some favor. Please 
 tell me, then, what induces you to give so handsome a 
 sum every year, without being asked ? ' 
 
 I- I 
 
 I It 
 
176 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ii 
 
 '.I 
 
 I : 
 
 1 
 
 " ' Well, I will not conceal from you that the Souls in 
 Purgatory have visibly protected me ; and to make known 
 to you, in a few words, all my little history, I must tell you 
 that, two or three years ago, I heard people speak so 
 favorably of the Association for the Souls in Purgatory — I 
 heard so much about it, indeed, that from that day for- 
 ward, I placed all my little business under the care of the 
 Suffering Souls, and ever since, I am happy to tell you, 
 to the credit of those holy Souls, that my affairs go, as if 
 they were on wheels ! " (These are his own words.) " I 
 give my thirty-three dollars a year without any injury to 
 myself; on the contrary, all goes the better for it. My 
 store is not much to look at, but it is well filled, and all 
 that is in it is my own. Apart from that, and what is 
 still better, I have not a penny of debt.' 
 
 '* He then added, in a lower tone : * I have, moreover, 
 the happiness of honoring in that way the thirty-three 
 years of labors and sufferings which Our Divine Lord 
 spent on earth. That thought does my poor heart good. 
 
 " * Ah, sir,' said he, with an impulse of true faith which 
 made my heart thrill — 'Ah, sir, if men believed more, 
 they would do wonders, and the word of Our Lord never 
 fails, and He has said that the more one gives the more 
 they receive, for charity never makes any one poor ; only 
 we must give without distrust, and without speculation.' 
 
 " I warmly shook hands with this admirable man, and 
 returned home as charmed with my visit as delighted with 
 so much faith. Then I said to myself: ' There is a fine 
 example to follow. How many others might have no 
 debts, if they knew hov/ to make vSacrifices for the dear 
 Suffering Souls!'" — Altnanac of the Souls in Purgatory ^ 
 1877. 
 
 
 *i- i_ 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 177 
 
 > 
 
 r 
 
 HOW TO PAY ONES DEBTS. 
 
 Speaking just now of that generous man who had no 
 debts, we called to mind an example that teaches a pretty- 
 way of paying debts. We are about to furnish the re- 
 ceipt, so that no one may complain, giving to each the 
 chance of making use of it. In divulging this secret we 
 shall certainly pass for the least selfish man in the world ; 
 for, to furnish every one with the means of paying their 
 debts, is it not to procure for each the opportunity of en- 
 riching himself? But, dear reader, laying aside all 
 thanks, hasten only to profit by the receipt, and we shall, 
 each of us, have obtained our object. 
 
 We take this secret from the Chronicles of the good 
 Friars Minors, an authority to which no one can take ex- 
 ception. 
 
 The Blessed Bcrthold belonged to the great Franciscan 
 family. His fine talents and rare virtues had caused him 
 to be appointed a preacher of the Order. The Sovereign 
 Pontiff, seeing all the good that Berthold was destined to 
 do by his eloquent sermons, had given him power to 
 grant to each of his hearers, an indulgence of ten days ; 
 which was a great privilege for the faithful, as well as a 
 mark of esteem and distinction for himself. 
 
 Friar lierthold, then, had preached a most moving ser- 
 mon on alms-giving, and had granted the ten days' indul- 
 gence to all who were present. Amongst the audience 
 was a lady of quality who, owing to a reverse of f(M-tune, 
 was in great distress and loaded with debt. She had 
 hitherto been content to suffer in silence, being prevented 
 by a false shame from making her condition known ; but 
 overcome by the enthusiastic cliarity of the good father, 
 she went privately to him to explain how she was situ- 
 ated, giving him thus an opportunity of putting in prac- 
 tice what he had so eloquently preached. 
 
 But Friar Bcrthold, who, like his father St. Francis, had 
 
 ti 1 
 
 ;i ,11 
 
 f S ^l 
 
 "fmmm 
 
178 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 i 
 
 chosen poverty for his lady and mistress, could not come 
 to her relief. Nevertheless, as poverty, in the man who 
 suffers and endures it voluntarily for the love of God, be- 
 comes strength and even riches, Berthold, strong in his 
 sacrifice and rich in his poverty — Berthold, inspired by 
 the Holy Ghost, repeated to her what Peter of old, in- 
 spired by God, said to the lame man at the gate of the 
 Temple who had asked him for alms : " Silver and gold 
 have I none, but that which I have I will give unto thee." 
 He then assured the lady that she had gained ten days' 
 indulgence by being present at his preaching, and he 
 added : " Go to such a banker in the city. Hitherto he 
 has busied himself much more about temporal riches than 
 spiritual treasures, but offer him in return for the dona- 
 tion he will give you, to make over to him the merit of 
 this indulgence, so that the pains awaiting him in Pur- 
 gatory may be diminished. I have every reason to think," 
 continued the good Father, " that he will give you some 
 assistance." 
 
 The poor woman, full of that faith which is so power- 
 ful, went as she was told, in all simplicity. God touched 
 the heart of the rich man, who received her kindly. He 
 asked her how much she expected to receive in exchange 
 fo^ her ten days' indulgence. Feeling herself animated by 
 an interior strength, she replied : ** As much as it weighs 
 in the balance." — " Well! " said the banker, "here is the 
 balance. Write down your ten days' indulgence, and put 
 the paper in one scale ; I will place a piece of money in 
 the other." O prodigy ! the scale with the paper in it 
 does not rise, but the other does. The banker, much 
 amazed, puts in another piece of money, but the weight 
 is not changed ; he puts in another, then another; but the 
 result is still the same, the paper on which the indulgence 
 is written is still the heaviest. The Banker puts down 
 then five, ten, thirty pieces, till there was as much as the 
 whole amount which the lady required for licr present 
 needs. Then only did the two scales become ecjual. 
 The banker, struck with astonishment, saw ia this 
 
 
 mam 
 
le 
 
 lO 
 
 is 
 
 y 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 marvel a precious le^^nn r i • ^^^ 
 
 -sensiMe oF.hc vaLetf ,,f , l-J -;- at ,en,nh .aUo 
 ine poor Sm.ic j ''"^^s ot heaven. 
 
 :^'%htcsrej.;^;tc, iitrit ' "■", ,"^'«-- -- ^".- 1.. 
 
 'n the world. ^ ""-" ""^^ would gi^c all t|,e „„,j 
 
 your shoulders, offer „n llf '^"'^"™> difficulties on 
 and they will make hl,s"e1 '^r"''"^ ^ ""^ P^""" ^ouK 
 pay you double, „ay aTprh {""'•, ''ankers ; they wi i 
 ha^-c put in the scale';f t, ^ bit"'"'' ''"" ^^''atever y„ 
 pay you not only in spir ° I f ^ "^ ""■'cy- They Win 
 
 Pornl wealth, whieh wi p oe re r'"'' ''"' ''■"" '" t*^™' 
 vantag-e of paying P"! " '^^ '">■ you the double ad- 
 
 thc other ^>'oWd.44i:L':% i::/^.'°-' and those of 
 
 FAITH KEWAKDED. 
 
 " One day, in the month of Tnl„ •• . 
 Association,' " I m^t one of o ^' ?''"'=■' a zelator of the 
 of an amiable disposi on .J "'"""^f"' "^ ^^as a man 
 
 and his devotion t!?goXorksR '■'-'""'■ '''' "^^ p4 
 ffood standinn:, engaged in. ^ '"'^^ a merchant of 
 
 -any others, howe%er h ,.:d''::L"?'f', '^-'--- Like 
 commonplace question, 'How :" ''''",' ^ays; and to the 
 P'';d: 'Ah! badly enough rcafr ^T"'"''-' '"= re- 
 and I am doubl/ unfortunate r t }^ P*"*^ '^''P^^es, 
 brought me in two or threT, ,'"'' a house which 
 have had the misfortune "V '^'^ ^'?"'-'" a year, and I 
 year, so that, losing on all sdesffi ?' '"^ '■'^"' '' f^'s 
 embarrassed.--. Wiij „'„',?' ^ ^nd myself a good de-,1 
 
 you a little advic»?/°"' ""'' ^aid I, 'to^^K' 
 - '^urgatory i„ l^l ,o " We^"- ^fasses for the So 
 
 your i„>use. It will be is it 1 .P"'' '^°"""e to rent 
 We too often forget ^:^ ^JZ^ ^'"^r' I""" ^'^"^■ 
 
 ■--'---,,esj::;.i:i-^^partof 
 
 fi ,1 
 
i8o 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 if 
 
 what He gives us so freely. It is, nevertheless, only an 
 offering that we make Him of His own goods; and, at 
 the same time, an act of gratitude for that He has 
 deigned to give it to us. Furthermore, it is an act of 
 homage, an acknowledgment of His supremacy. And we 
 shall derive the more profit from it according as we do it 
 with a good heart. Besides all that, you have the addi- 
 tional happiness of assisting your relatives and friends 
 who are suffering in the flames of Purgatory.' 
 
 " This little exhortation seemed to strike him to whom 
 it was addressed, and, as if awaking from a long lethargy, 
 he suddenly said : * Why did I not think of that before ? 
 I promise,' added he, ' five dollars for the Souls in Pur- 
 gatory, if I find a tenant.' 
 
 " This eagerness to do good, this species of regret for 
 not having done it sooner, this pious disposition which 
 makes us desire to relieve those who are in affliction, 
 must have been very pleasing to God, for, within the 
 week, the gentleman came to me with his five dollars, 
 and said, smihng : ' I lose no time, you see, in keeping my 
 promise.' — 'Why, have you already rented your house ? ' — 
 ' Yes, a manuft.-^turcr from the country who had just had 
 the misfortune of being burned out, saw my house by 
 chance, came to ask my terms, and we agreed at once. 
 He is to take possession next week.' 
 
 " A week passed, even a month, then two, and no ten- 
 ant, when I happened again to meet my friend, whom I 
 almost suspected of having forgotten his promise. 'Ah ! ' 
 said he, ' I am worse off than ever, and I was so sure of 
 having rented my house.' — ' How ! did that person not 
 come back, then ? ' — ' No, and I thought him such an hon- 
 est man ! The disappointment has been a great loss to 
 me.' — ' Write to him, then, threatening to make him re- 
 sponsible for the whole rent. But, better than that, wait 
 still, and have confidence ; the Holy Souls caniiot fail to 
 bring the matter to a favorable issue. It is, perhaps, a 
 want of faith on your part which has delayed the fulfill- 
 ment of the contract.' 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 i8x 
 
 i\ 
 
 *' Three days had scarcely passed when I a^ain saw our 
 Associate. ' This time,' said he, ' I come to pay ; my 
 tenant has arrived.' — ' But he has made you lose five or 
 six weeks' rent.' — 'Not so; he is, just as I thought, an 
 honorable, upright man. lie arrived two days ago. " It 
 was I that hired your house," said he, ** and I come to take 
 
 possession of it." — " Mr. ," said I, " I am very glad, but 
 
 I expected you sooner." — " It is true I was to have come 
 before now, but was prevented from doing so by important 
 business. How long is it since I rented your house?" — 
 " Just nine weeks." — ** It is only right, then, that I should 
 pay you for the time I have made you lose ; " then handing 
 me a sum of money, " there," said he, " is the amount com- 
 ing to you ; and now, my family arrive to-morrow, so we 
 take possession at once of your house, and your rent shall 
 be paid regularly." 
 
 " * So there is an end to my anxiety, and you cannot be- 
 lieve how happy 1 am in bringing you the trifling sum I 
 promised ; but while keeping my promise, I thank you 
 very sincerely for the confidence wherewith you inspired 
 me in the Holy Souls. May God bless you for it ! ' " — 
 Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory^ 1881. 
 
 APPARITION OF A CITIZEN OF ARLES. * 
 
 Lecoyer, in his " Tales of Ghosts and Apparitioi.s,"' 
 relates a historical occurrence which had great publicity. 
 In the reign of King Charles IV. of France, surnamed 
 the Fair, the last king of the first branch of the Capets, 
 who died in 1323, the soul of a citizen, some years dead 
 and abandoned by his relations, who neglected to pray 
 for him, appeared suddenly in the public square at Aries, 
 relating marvellous things of the other world, and asking 
 for help. Those who had seen him in his lifetime at once 
 
 ' " Histoircs dcs Spectres et des Apparitions." 
 
 
l82 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 1 
 
 ^ 
 
 recognized him. The Prior of the Jacobins, a man of 
 saintly life, being told of this apparition, hastened to go 
 and see the soul. Supposing at first that it might be a 
 spirit that had taken the form of this citizen, he took, with 
 lighted tapers, a consecrated host, which he held out to 
 it. But the soul immediately showed that it was really 
 there itself, for it prostrated itself and adored Our Lord, 
 asking naught else but prayers which might deliver it 
 from Purgatory, to the end that it might enter purified 
 into heaven. 
 
 THE COUNTESS OF STRAFFORD. 
 
 The Countess of Strafford, before her conversion to 
 the Catholic faith, went often to see Monseigneur de la 
 Mothe, Bishop of Amiens, and her conversations with him 
 always made the deepest impression on her mind. But 
 what touched her more than all was a sermon which he 
 preached on the feast of St. John the Baptist, in the chapel 
 of the Ursulines in Amiens. After hearing this discourse, 
 she felt within I'cr a lively desire to believe as did the 
 preacher who had so much edified her. She still had 
 some doubts, however, on the Sacrifice of the Mass and 
 Purgatory. She went to propose them to the holy Bishop, 
 who, without disputing with her or openly attacking her 
 prejudices, deemed it his duty to speak thus to her, in 
 order to undeceive her : " Madam, you know the Bishop 
 of London and have confidence in him ? Well, I beg you 
 to ask him what I am going to tell you : The Bishop of 
 Amiens has told me a thing that surprised me ; he says 
 that if you can deny that St. Augustine said Mass and 
 prayed for the dead, and particularly for his mother, he 
 himself will become a Protestant." This advice was fol- 
 lowed. The Bishop of London made no reply, but con- 
 tented himself with saying to the bearer of the letter that 
 Lady Strafford had been breathing a contagious atmos- 
 
 1 
 
 ., 
 
 ■'"V. 
 
 T^^ 
 
T 
 
 .1 
 
 ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 183 
 
 nhcrc which had carried her av/ay, and that anything he 
 could write to her would pr()babl> not remedy the evil. 
 This silence on the part of a man whom i.hc had trusted 
 implicitly, finished opening the eyes of Lady Strafford 
 and she soon after made her abjuration at the hands ot 
 the Bishop of Amiens. -K/V dc Monsgr. de la Motlu\ 
 
 THE MARaUIS DE CIVRAC. 
 
 [From tine Commune Vendee imc.') 
 
 The belief that the living friends may be of use to 
 their friends in the grave, has in it I know not Avhat in- 
 structive and natural which one meets in hearts the most 
 simnle and unsophisticated. A pious peasant woman ot 
 La Vendee kneeling on the coffin of her good master, the 
 Marquis de Civrac, cried out: " O my God, repay to him 
 all the £rood he has done to us ! " Does not this fervent 
 cry of grateful affection signify : '' My God, some rays 
 arc perchance wanting in the crown of our benefactor ; 
 supply them, we beseech Thee, in consideration of our 
 prayer and all he has done for us?" and this is precisely 
 the consoling doctrine of Purgatory. 
 
 H!' 
 
 ■ ^ll 
 
i84 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 ■ 
 
 GRATITUDE OF THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 [Rev. James Mumford, S.J., born in England in 1605, and who labored 
 for forty years for the cause of the Catholic Church in his native country, 
 wrote a remarkable work on Pur<?atory; and he mentions that the following 
 incident was written to him by William Freysson, a publisher, of Cologne. 
 May it move many in their dithcuUies to have recourse to the Holy Souls.] 
 
 One festival day, when my place of business was 
 closed, I was occupying myself in reading a book 
 which you had lent me, and which was on '* The Souls in 
 Purgatory." I was absorbed in my subject when a mes- 
 senger came and told me that my youngest child, aged 
 four years, showed the first symptoms of a very grave 
 disease. The child rapidly grew worse, and the physi- 
 cians at length declared that there was no hope. The 
 thought then occurred to me that perhaps 1 could save 
 my child by making a vow to assist the Suffering Souls 
 in Purgatory. I accordingly repaired at once to a 
 chapel, and, with all fervor, supplicated God to have pity 
 on me ; and I vowed I would distribute gratuitously a 
 hundred copies of the book that had moved me in be- 
 half of the suffering souls, and give them to ecclesiastics 
 and to religious to increase devotion to the Holy Souls. 
 I had, I acknowledge, hardly any hope. As soon as I 
 returned to the house I found the child much better. 
 He asked for food, although for several days he had not 
 been able to swaJlow anything but liquids. The next day 
 he was perfectly well, got up, went out for a walk, and 
 ate as if he had never had anything the matter with him. 
 Filled with gratitude, T was only anxious to fulfill my 
 promise. I went to the College of the Jesuit Fathers and 
 begged them to accept as many copies of the work as 
 they pleased, and to distribute them amongst themselves 
 and other communities and ecclesiastics as they thought 
 fit, so that the suffering souls, my benefactors, should be 
 assisted by further prayers. 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 185 
 
 Three weeks had not slipped away, however, when 
 anotlier aeeident not less serious befell me. My wife, on 
 enterinuf the house one day, was suddenly sei/ed with a 
 treinblins^in all her limbs, whieii threw her to the j^round, 
 and she remained insensible. Little by little the illness 
 increased, until she was deprived of the power of speech.' 
 Remedies seemed to be in vain. The malady at len<^th 
 assumed sucii a;j^i:^ravated proportions that every one was 
 of opinion she had no chance of recovery. The priest 
 who assisted her had already addressed words of consola- 
 tion to me, exhortin*^ me to Christian resi<^natit)n. I 
 turned I'l^ain with conhdence to the souls in Turi^atory, 
 who had assisted mc once before, and I went to the same 
 church. There, prostrate before the Blessed Sacrament, 
 I renewed my supplication with all the ardor with which 
 affection f(3r my family inspired me. "() my God!" [ 
 exclaimed, " Tiiy mercy is not exhausted : in the name of 
 Thy infinite bounty, do not permit that the recovery of 
 my son should be paid by the death of his mother.'' I 
 made a vow this time, to distribute two hundred copies 
 of the holy book, in order that a j^reater number of per- 
 sons might be moved to intercede for the suffering- souls. 
 I besought those who had already been delivered from 
 Purgatory to unite with mc on this occasion. After this 
 prayer, as I was returning to the house, I saw my ser- 
 vants running towards me. They told me with delight 
 that my wife had undergone a great change for the bet- 
 ter ; that the delirium had ceased, and she had recovered 
 her power of speech. I at once ran on to assure myself 
 of the fact : all was true. Very soon my wife was so per- 
 fectly recovered that she came with me into the holy 
 place to make an act of thanksgiving to God for all His 
 mercies. — Ave Maria. 
 
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1 86 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 A STBANOE INCIDENT. 
 
 A YOUNG German lady of rank, still alive to tell the 
 story, arriving with her friends at one of the most noted 
 hotels in Paris, an apartment of unusual magnificence on 
 the first floor was apportioned to her use. After retiring 
 to rest she lay awake a long while, contemplating, by 
 the dim light of a night-lamp, the costly ornaments in the 
 room, when suddenly the folding-doors opposite the bed, 
 which she had locked, were thrown open, and, amid a 
 flood of unearthly light, there entered a young man in 
 the garb of the French navy, having his hair dressed in 
 the peculiar mode a la Titus. Taking a chair and placing 
 it in the middle of the room, he sat down, and drew from 
 his pocket a pistol of an uncommon make, which he de- 
 liberately put to his forehead, fired, and fell back as if 
 dead. At the moment of the explosion the room became 
 dark and still, and a low voice said softly : " Say an Ave 
 Maria for his soul." 
 
 The young lady, though not insensible, became para- 
 lyzed with horror, and remained in a kind of cataleptic 
 trance, fully conscious, but unable to move or speak, 
 until, at nine o'clock next day, no answer having been 
 given to repeated calls of her maid, the doors were forced 
 open. At the same moment the power of speech re- 
 turned, and the poor young lady shrieked out to her at- 
 tendants that a man had shot himself in the night, and 
 was lying dead on the floor. Nothing, however, was to 
 be seen, and they concluded that she was suffering from 
 the effects of a dream. Not being a Catholic, she could 
 not, of course, understand the meaning of the mysterious 
 command. 
 
 A short time afterwards, however, the proprietor" of the 
 hotel informed a gentleman of the party that the terrible 
 scene witnessed by the young lady had in reality been 
 enacted only three nights previously in that very room, 
 
 I 
 
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS. 
 
 187 
 
 when a young French officer put an end to his life with 
 a pistol of a peculiar description, which, together with 
 the body, was then lying at the Morgue awaiting identi- 
 fication. The gentleman examined them both, and found 
 them to correspond exactly with the description of the 
 man and the pistol seen in the apparition. 
 
 Whether the young officer was insane, or lived long 
 enough to repent of his crime, is not known ; however, 
 the then Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur Sibour, was 
 exceedingly impressed by the incident. He called upon 
 the young lady, and directing her attention to the words 
 spoken by the mysterious voice, urged her to embrace 
 the Catholic faith, to whose teaching it pointed so clearly. 
 —Ave Maria, August 15, 1885. 
 
 nil 
 
 ^ I 
 
PART III. 
 
 HISTORICAL 
 
 (11 
 
 All the ages, every clime 
 
 Strike the silver harp of time, 
 
 Chant the endless, holy story, 
 
 Souls retained in Purgatory. 
 
 Freed by Mass and holy rite. 
 
 Requiem, dirge and wondrous might, 
 
 A prayer which hut and palace send, 
 
 Where king and serf, where lord and hireling blend. 
 
 The vast cathedral and the village shrine 
 
 Unite in mercy's choral strain divine. 
 
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HISTORICAL. 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY, OR A MIDDLE STATE, 
 AMONG THE PAGAN NATIONS OF ANTIQUITY. 
 
 BY THE REV. A. A LAMBING, A.M. 
 
 [This very interesting article was originally published in the " Ave 
 Maria."J 
 
 The attentive student of the mythology of the nations of 
 antiquity cannot fail to discover many vestiges of a prim- 
 itive revelation of some of the principal truths of religion, 
 although in the lapse of time they have been so distorted 
 and mingled with fiction that it requires careful study to 
 sift the few remaining grains of truth from the great mass 
 of superstition and error in which they are all but lost. 
 Among these truths may be reckoned monotheism, or 
 the belief in, and the worship of, one only God, which the 
 learned Jesuit, the Rev. Aug. Thebaud, in his '' Gentil- 
 ism," has proved to have been the primitive belief of all 
 nations. It may not, however, be so generally known 
 that the doctrine of Purgatory, or a future state of purifi- 
 cation, was also held and taught in all the religious sys- 
 tems in the begining. While a knowledge of this fact 
 cannot add anything to the grounds of our faith as Catho- 
 lics, it will not be wholly without interest, and it will, be- 
 sides, better enable us to give a reason for the faith that 
 is in us. It was left to INIartin Luther to found an ephem- 
 eral religious system that should deny this dogma, 
 founded no less on revelation than on right reason ; but, 
 then, logic has never been one of the strong points of 
 Protestants. 
 
 Before turning my attention to the nations of the pagan 
 world, I shall briefly give the Jewish behef on this point. 
 It may not generally be known that the doctrine of a mid- 
 
 5 
 
..>...■-■. j-j u^.^—ijt— j>;«. j.i»i<tt>fe iLntotf_ avi>>i- -'-»iM WW 
 
 192 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 die state Is not explicitly proposed to the belief of the 
 Jews in any of the writings of the Old Testament, al- 
 though it was firmly held by the people. We depend for 
 our knowledge of this fact mainly on the celebrated pass- 
 age of the Second Book of Machabces (xii. 43-46). The 
 occasion on whicii the doctrine was stated was this : 
 Some of the soldiers of Judas Machabeus, the leader of 
 the Jewish armies, fell in a certain battle ; and when their 
 fcUow-soldicrs came to bury them, they discovered se- 
 creted in the folds of their garments some parts of the spoils 
 of one of the pagan shrines, which it was not permitted 
 them to keep. After praying devoutly, the sacred writer 
 goes on to say that Judas, " Making a gathering, sent 
 twelve thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacri- 
 fices to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well 
 and religiously concerning the resurrection [for if he had 
 not hoped that they who were slain should rise again, it 
 would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the 
 dead]. And because he considered that they who had 
 fallen asleep with godliness had great gracQ laid up for 
 them. It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to 
 pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from sins." 
 
 The Catholic doctrine is thus briefly laid down in the 
 Catechism: " Purgatory is a place of punishment in the 
 other life where some souls suffer for a time before they 
 can go to heaven ; " or, in the words of the Catechism of 
 the Council of Trent, there is " the fire of Purgatory, in 
 which the souls of just men arc cleansed by a temporary 
 punishment in order to be admitted into their eternal 
 country, ' into which nothing defiled entereth.' " 
 
 How far the pagan notions of a middle state harmonize 
 with the Christian doctrine the reader will be able to de- 
 termine as we proceed. 
 
 I must premise by stating that almost all, if not all, the 
 forms of paganism were two-fold, containing a popular 
 form of religion, believed and practiced by the mass of 
 the people, and a more recondite form that was known 
 only to the initiated, whether this was the priestly caste, as 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 J 93 
 
 was generally the case, or whether they were desic^nated 
 by some other name. It slioukl also be observed that the 
 forms of religion were constantly undergoing changes of 
 greater or less importance. Nor must we lose sight of 
 the fact that different nations embodied the same idea un- 
 der dilTercnt forms. The conception of the phlegmatic 
 Norseman would be different from that of the imagi- 
 native Oriental, and the language of the refined Greek 
 would be far other than that of the rude American savage. 
 IJut yet the same truth may be found lo underlie all, the 
 outward garb alone differing. 
 
 Turning first to Egypt, which is, rightly or wrongly, 
 commonly considered the cradle of civilization, we may 
 sum up its teaching with regard to the lot of the dead, 
 and the middle state, in these interesting remarks of a 
 learned author: "The continuance of the soul after its 
 death, its judgment in another world, and its sentence ac- 
 cording to its deserts, either to happiness or suffering, 
 were undoubted parts both cf the popular and of the 
 more recondite religion. It was the universal belief that 
 immediately after death the soul descended into a lower 
 world, and was conducted to the Hall of Truth (or, * of 
 the Two Truths'), where it was judged in the presence 
 of Osiris and the forty -two demons, the * Lords of Truth ' 
 and judges of the dead. Anubis, ' the director of the 
 weight,' brought forth a pai' of scales, and, placing on 
 one scale a figure or emblem ui Truth, set on the other a 
 vase containing the good actions of the deceased ; Thoth 
 standing by the while, with a tablet in his hand, whereon 
 to record the result. According to the side on which the 
 balance inclined, Osiris delivered the sentence. If the 
 good deeds preponderated, the blessed soul was allowed 
 to enter the ' boat of the sun,' and was conducted by good 
 spirits to Aahlu (Elysium), to the * pools of peace,' and the 
 dwelling place of Osiris. . . . The good soul, having 
 first been freed from its infirmities by passing through 
 the basin of purgatorial fire, guarded by the four ape- 
 faced genii, and then made the companion of Osiris three 
 
 I 
 
 
 ( 
 
194 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 thousand years, returned from Amcnti, re-entered its 
 former body, rose from the dead, and lived once more a 
 human life upon earth. This process was reiterated 
 until a certain mystic cycle of years bccanie conii)lete, 
 when fmally the g^ood and blessed attained the crowniiij^ 
 joy of union with God, beinj^ absorbed into the Divine 
 Essence, and thus attaininj^ the true end and full perfec- 
 tion of their being-." ' 
 
 It may be remarked that all systems of reli<^i()n which 
 held the doctrine of metempsychosis, or the transm {jura- 
 tion of souls, should be considered as believinjj^ in a 
 middle state of puri^ation, since they maintained the 
 necessity of the soul's further purification, after death, 
 before it was permitted to enter into its final rest. 
 
 In the ever-varyin<^ phases through which Buddhism, 
 the religion of all South-eastern Asia, has passed in its 
 protracted existence, it is difficult to determine with any 
 degree of certainty, precisely what its disciples hold ; but 
 the belief in metempsychosis, which is one of its funda- 
 mental doctrines, must permit us to range it on the side 
 of those who hold to the idea of a middle state. Certain 
 it is, they believe that the soul, by a series of new births, 
 becomes, in process of time, better fitted for the final 
 state in which it is destined for ever to remain. The same 
 may be said of the religion of the great body of the Chi- 
 nese ; for, although they have their law-giver Confucius, 
 their religion at present, as far as it merits the name, 
 appears to be no more than a certain form of Buddhism. 
 
 Coming to the more western nations of Asia, we may 
 remark that, as their religions were evidently a corruption 
 of primitive revelation, less removed in point of time, they 
 must, although they had already become idolatrous, have 
 embodied the idea of a future state of purgation, not- 
 Avithstanding that it is impossible to determine at this 
 distant day, the exact nature of their doctrines. If, how- 
 ever, wc turn from these to the doctrine of Zoroaster, 
 our means of forming an opinion are more ample. 
 
 ' " History of Ancient Egypt," Gejrgc Rawlinson, Vol. I., pp. 327-329. 
 
lIISrORlCAI,. 
 
 '9^ 
 
 IllCl 
 
 I 
 
 
 Zoroaster, or, more correctly, Zarathrusta, tlic founder 
 of the Persian reiij^ion, was l)orn, accordinjj^ to some 
 accounts, in the sixth century before our era, while others 
 claim for him an anticjuity datinj^ at least from the thir- 
 teenth century before Christ. Be that as it may and it 
 does not concern us to inquire into it — this much is cer- 
 tain : he was a firm believer in a middle state, and he 
 transmitted the same to his followers. Hut, goinu^ a step 
 further than some, he taut^ht that the souls undergoin*^ 
 purification are helped by the prayers of their friends 
 upon earth. " The Zoroastrians," says Mr. Rawlinson, 
 " were devout believers in tlic immortality of the soul 
 and a conscious future existence. They tautjht that imme- 
 diately after death the souls of men, both good and bad, 
 proceeded toi^ether alonj^ an appointed path, to * the 
 bridj^e of the gatherer.' This was a narrow road con- 
 ducting to heaven or paradise, over which the souls of the 
 pious alone could pass, v.hile the wicked fell from it into 
 the gulf below, where they found themselves in the place 
 of punishment. The good soul was assisted across the 
 bridge by the Angel Serosh — ' the happy, well-formed, 
 swift, tall Serosh ' — who met the weary wayfarer, and sus- 
 tained his steps as he effected the difficult passage. The 
 prayers of his friends in this world were of much avail to 
 the deceased, and greatly helped him on his journey." ' 
 
 With regard to the opinions held by the Greeks, — and 
 the same may, in general terms, be applied to the Ro- 
 mans, whose religious views coincided more or less 
 closely with those of their more polished neighbors, — it 
 is difficult to form a correct idea. Not that the classic 
 writers and philosophers have permitted the subject to 
 sink into oblivion, — on the contrary, they have treated it 
 at considerable length, as all classic scholars well know, 
 — but while, on the one hand, as I remarked above, there 
 is a difference between the popular ideas and those of the 
 learned, there is also here a great difference of opinion 
 between the various schools of philosophy. Not only so, 
 
 " Ancient Monarchies." Vol. II., p. 339. 
 
 'It 
 
 
il.il 
 
 t 
 
 o 
 
 196 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 but it is dirficult to determine liovv far the philosoplicrs 
 tliciiisclvcs were in ciirncst in the oj)iiii()iis tlicy ex- 
 pressed ; and liow far, loo, we understand tlieni. The 
 opinions (jf the peojjle, and much more, those of the 
 learned, vary with the principal pericxis of Grecian and 
 Roman history. This much, however, may be safely 
 held, that, while they drew their orijj^in from Central or 
 Western Asia, their reli<^ion must, in the beij^inning, have 
 been that of the countries from which they came. But 
 truth only is immutable; error is ever changing. 
 
 I shall not tax the patience of the reader by askinj^ him 
 to pass in review the more striking periods of the history 
 of these famous nations, but shall content myself with 
 giving the views of a celebrated writer on a part, at least^ 
 of the question. Speaking of the opinions held by the 
 Greek philosophers regarding the future state of the 
 soul, Dr. Dollinger says, " The old and universal tradi- 
 tion admitted, in general, that man continued t(j exist 
 after death ; but the Greeks of the Homeric age did not 
 dream of a retribution appointed to all after death, or of 
 purifying and penitential punishments. It is only some 
 conspicuous offenders against the gods who, in Homer, 
 are tormented in distant Erebus. In Hesiod, the earlier 
 races of man continue to live on, sometimes as good 
 demons, sometimes as souls of men in bliss, or as heroes; 
 yet, though inculcating moral obligations, he docs not 
 point to a reward to be looked for beyond the grave, but 
 only to the justice that dominates in this economy. . . . 
 Plato expressly ascribes to the Orphic writers the dogma 
 of the soul's finding herself in the body as in a sepulchre 
 or prison, on the score of previously contracted guilt ; a 
 dogma indubitably ascending to a very high antiquity. 
 . . . It is from this source that Pindar drew, who, of 
 the old Greeks, generally has expressed notions the most 
 precise and minutely distinct of trial and tribulation after 
 death, and the circuits and lustrations of the soul. He 
 assigns the island of the blest as for the everlasting en- 
 joyment of those who, in a triple existence in the upper 
 
 i 
 
 J 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 197 
 
 )plicrs 
 py ex.. 
 'J'he 
 lof the 
 |iii and 
 safely 
 :ral or 
 ,, have 
 But 
 
 hi,'' him 
 
 listory 
 f with 
 t least, 
 by the 
 of the 
 tracli- 
 ) exist 
 lid not 
 , or of 
 ' some 
 lonier, 
 earlier 
 gfood 
 eroes ; 
 cs not 
 'e, but 
 
 • • • 
 
 loi^nia 
 .ilehrc 
 lilt ; a 
 quity. 
 lio, of 
 
 most 
 
 after 
 
 He 
 
 ig en- 
 
 ipper 
 
 and lower world, have been able to keep their souls per- 
 fectly pure from all sin. On the other hand, the souls of 
 siiniers appear after death before the jud<;ment seat of a 
 judge of the nether world, by whom they are sentenced 
 to a heavy doom, and are ceaselessly drai^ij^ed the world 
 over, sulleriuii^ bloody torments. Hut as for those whom 
 l'ersei)hone has released from the old guilt of sin, their 
 souls she sends in the ninth year back again to th.e upper 
 sun ; of them are born mighty kings, and men of power 
 and wisdom, who come to be styled saintly heroes by 
 their jjosterity." And, again : " Plato was the first of the 
 Greeks to throw himself, in all sincerity, and with the 
 whole tle|)th of his intellect, upon the solution of the great 
 (luestion of immortality. . . . He was, in truth, the 
 prophet of the doctrine of immortality for his time, and 
 for the Greek nation. . . . The metempsychosis which 
 he taught under Orphic and Pythagorean inspiration is 
 an essential ingredient of his theory of the world, and is, 
 therefore, perpetually recurring in his more important 
 works. He connects it with an idea sifted and taken 
 from po])ular belief of a state of penance in Hades, though 
 it can hardly be ascertained how large a portion of mys- 
 tical ornament or poetical conjecture he throws into the 
 particular delineation of 'the last things,* and of transmi- 
 gration. He adopts ten grades of migration, each of a 
 thousand years; so that the soul, in each migration, 
 makes a selection of its life-destiny, and renews its pen- 
 ance ten times, until it is enabled to return to an incor- 
 poreal existence with God, and to the pure contcmplatioit 
 of Him and the ideal world. Philosophic souls only 
 escape after a three-fold migration, in each of which they 
 choose again their first mode of life. All other souls are 
 judged in the nether world after their first life, and there 
 do penance for their guilt in different quarters ; the in- 
 curable only are thrust down forever into Tartarus. He 
 attaches eternal punishment to certain particularly abom- 
 inable sins, while such as have lived justly repose bliss- 
 fully in the dwelling of a kindred star until their entrance 
 
 li 
 
 k 
 
 ' 
 
 II 
 
198 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 into a second life. Plato was clearly acquainted with the 
 fact of the necessity of an intermediate state between 
 eternal happiness and misery, a state of penance and puri- 
 hcation after death."' 
 
 The popular notion of Charon, the ferryman of the 
 lower world, refusing to carry over the river Acheron the 
 vsouls of such as had not been buried, but leaving them 
 to wander on the shores for a century before he would 
 consent, or rather before he was permitted by the rulers 
 of the Hades to do so, contains a vestige of the belief in 
 a middle state, where some souls had to suffer for a time 
 before they could enter into the abode of the blest. But 
 when it is said that the friends of the deceased could, by 
 interring his remains, secure his entry into the desired 
 repose, we see a more striking resemblance to the doc- 
 trine that friends on earth are able to assist tho souls 
 undergoing purgation. A remarkable instance of the 
 popular belief in this doctrine is furnished in Grecian 
 history, where the soldiers were encouraged on a certain 
 occasion to risk their lives in the service of their country 
 by their being told to write their names on their arms, so 
 that if any fell his friends could have him properly in- 
 terred, and thus secure him against all fear of having to 
 wander for a century on the bleak shores of the dividing 
 river. Nothing could better show the hold which this 
 i^'^^ iiad on the minds of the people. 
 
 Roman mythological ideas were, as has been said, 
 nearly related to those of Greece ; they underwent as 
 great modilications, while the opinions of her philosophers 
 were equally abstruse, varied, and difficult to understand. 
 The author above quoted, treating of the notion of the 
 soul and a future state entertained by the Roman philoso- 
 phers, proves their ideas to have been extremely vague 
 and ill-defined. Still, there were not wanting those who 
 held to the belief of an existence after this life. Plutarch, 
 a Greek, " has left us a view of the state of the departed. 
 The souls of the dead, ascending through the air, and in 
 * " The Gentile and the Jew," Vol. I. pp. 301-320. 
 
 1^ 
 
 J 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 199 
 
 this 
 
 . 
 
 part rcachinf^ the highest heaven, arc cither Uiminous and 
 transparent or dark and spotted, on account of sins ad- 
 hering to them, and some have even scars upon them. 
 The soul of man, he says elsewhere, comes from the moon ; 
 his mind, intellect, — from the sun ; the separation of the 
 two is only completely effected after death. The soul 
 wanders awhile between the moon and earth for purposes 
 of punishment — or, if it be good, of purification, until it 
 rises to the moon, where the vnvg^ leaves it and returns 
 to its home, the sun ; while the soul is buried in the moon. 
 Lucian, on the other hand, whose writings for the most 
 part are a pretty faithful mirror of the notions in vogue 
 among his contemporaries, bears testimony to a contin- 
 uance of the old tradition of the good reaching the 
 Elysian fields, and the great transgressors finding them- 
 selves given up to the Erinnys in a place of torment, w^here 
 they are torn by vultures, crushed on the wheel, or 
 otherwise tormented ; while such as arc neither great sin- 
 ners nor distinguished by their virtues stray about in 
 meadows as. bodiless shadows, and arc fed on the liba- 
 tions and mortuary sacrifices offered at their sepulchres. 
 An obolus for Cliaron was still placed in the mouth of 
 every dead body." - Here, again, we have both the be- 
 lief in the existence of a middle state and of the assistance 
 afforded to those detained there. 
 
 The religion of the Druids is so wrapped in mystery 
 that it is diflicult to determine what they believed on any 
 point, and much more on that of the future lot of the soul ; 
 but as they held the doctrine of metempsychosis, it is fair 
 to class them among the adherents to the notion of a pe- 
 riod of purgation between death and the soul's entrance 
 into its final rest. Of the views of the sturdy Norsemen, 
 on the contrary, there can be no two opinions ; in their 
 mythology the idea of a middle state is expressed in the 
 clearest language. The following passage from INIr. An- 
 derson, places the matter beyond question. 1 may first 
 remark, for the information of the general reader, that by 
 
 ' Mind. 2 " The Gentile and the Jew," Vol. II., p. 146. 
 
 .,! 
 
200 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Gimle is meant the abode of the righteous after the day 
 of judgment ; by Naastrand, the place of punishment after 
 the same dread sentence ; by Ragnarok, the last day ; 
 Valhal, the temporary place of happiness to which the 
 god Odin invites those who have been slain in battle ; and 
 Hel, the goddess of death, whose abode is termed Hel- 
 heim. With these explanations the reader will be able 
 to understand the subjoined passage, which expresses the 
 Norse idea of the future purgation of the soul. 
 
 After speaking of the lot '^f the departed, the writer 
 says: " But it must oe remembered that O-iml^ and iNaas- 
 trand have referen :c to the state of things after Ragna- 
 rok, the Twilight C(f the gods ; while Valhal and Hel have 
 reference to the state of things between death and Rag- 
 narok ; — a time of existence corresponding somewhat to 
 what is called Purgatory by the Catholic Church." ^ 
 
 It would appear to be no exaggeration to claim the 
 same belief in a middle state for the American Indians, in 
 as far as it is possible for us to draw anything definite 
 from their crude notions of religion. A good authority 
 on subjects connected with Indian customs and beliefs 
 says: "The belief respecting the land of souls varied 
 greatly in different tribes and different individuals." And, 
 again : " An endless variety of incoherent fancies is con- 
 nected with the Indian idea of a future life. ... At 
 intervals of ten or twelve years, the Hurons, the Neu- 
 trals, and other kindred tribes, vere accustomed to col- 
 lect the bones of their dead, and c eposit them, with great 
 ceremony, in a common place of burial. The whole na- 
 tion was sometimes assembled at this solemnity ; and 
 hundreds of corpses, brought from their temporary rest- 
 ing-places, were inhumed in one common pit. From this 
 hour the immortality of their souls began." This evi- 
 dently implies a period during which the souls were wan- 
 dering at a distance from the place of their eternal re- 
 pose. Does the following passage threw any light upon 
 it ? The reader must decide the point for himself. " Most 
 
 ' " Norse Mythology," p. 393. 
 
 ■ 
 
 \ 
 
 i 
 
saam 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 20 1 
 
 
 of the traditions," continues the same writer, " agree, 
 however, that the spirits, on their journey heavenward, 
 were beset with difficulties and perils. There was a 
 swift river which must be crossed on a log that shook be- 
 neath their feet, while a ferocious dog opposed their pass- 
 age, and drove many into the abyss. This river was full 
 of sturgeons and other fish, which the ghosts speared for 
 their subsistence. Beyond was a narrow path between 
 moving rocks which each instant crushed together, grind- 
 ing to atoms the less nimble of the pilgims who essayed 
 to pass." ^ 
 
 A vestige of the same belief seems to crop out in a cus- 
 tom of some of the tribes of Central Africa, as appears 
 from the remarks of a recent traveller. " When a death 
 occurs," says Major Serpa Pinto, " the body is shrouded 
 in a white cloth, and, being covered with an ox-hide, is 
 carried to the grave, dug in a place selected for the pur- 
 pose. The days following on an interment are days of 
 high festival in the hut of the deceased. The native 
 kings are buried with some ceremony, and their bodies, 
 being arrayed in their best clothes, are conveyed to the 
 tomb in a dressed hide. There is a great feasting on 
 these occasions, and an enormous sacrifice of cattle ; for 
 the heir of the deceased is bound to sacrifice his whole 
 herd in order to regale his people, and give peace to the 
 soul of the departed." - 
 
 Such a unity of sentiment on the part of so many na- 
 tions differing in every other respect can only be attrib- 
 uted either to a natural feeling inherent in man, or to a 
 primitive revelation, which, amid the vicissitudes of time, 
 has left its impress on the minds of all nations. That the 
 doctrine of a middle state of purification was a part of the 
 primitive revelation cannot, I think, admit of reasonable 
 doubt. To the true servant of God, this unanimity is 
 another proof of the faith once revealed to the Saints, 
 
 '"The Jesuits in North America," Francis Parkman. Introduction, 
 pp. 81, g2. 
 
 « " How I Crossed Africa," Vol. I., p. 63. 
 
 I 
 
 5 . 
 
 1 
 
 M 
 
 il :i , 
 
fd 
 tl 
 
 01 
 
 202 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 and, at the same time, an additional motive for thanking 
 God for the light vouchsafed him, while so many others 
 are left to grope in the darkness of error. — Ave Maria, 
 Nov. 17, 1883. 
 
 DEVOTION TO THE DEAD AMONGST THE AMERICAN 
 INDIANS OF THE EARLY JESUIT MISSIONS. 
 
 In the ^^ Ri'lations des ydsiiitcs^' on their early missions 
 in New France, now Canada, we find many examples, 
 told in the quaint old French of the seventeenth century, 
 and with true apostolic symplicity, of the tender devo- 
 tion for the souls in Purgatory cherished by all the In- 
 dians of every tribe who had embraced Christianity from 
 the teaching of those zealous missionaries. The {q,\n ex- 
 tracts we give below from the " Relations " will serve to 
 show how deeply this touching devotion to the departed 
 is implanted in our nature, seeing that the doctrine of a 
 place of purgation in the after life finds so ready a re- 
 sponse in the heart and soul of the untutored children of 
 the forest : 
 
 " The devotion which they have for the souls of the 
 departed is another mark of their faith. Not far from 
 this assembly there is a cemetery, in the midst of which 
 is seen a fine cross ; sepulchres four or five feet wide and 
 six or seven feet long, rise about four feet from the 
 ground, carefully covered with bark. At the head and 
 feet of the dead are two crosses, and on one side a sword, 
 if the dead w^ere a man, or some domestic article, if a 
 woman. Having arrived there, I was asked to pray tO 
 God for the souls of those who were buried in that place. 
 A good Christian gave me a beaver skin by the hands of 
 her daughter, about seven years of age, and said to me, 
 when her daughter presented it : ' Father, this present is 
 to ask you to pray to God for the souls of her sister and 
 her grandmother.' Many others made the same request ; 
 
 + 
 
 I 
 t 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 203 
 
 I promised to comply with their wishes, but, as for their 
 presents, I could not accept them. 
 
 " Some time ago, when the Christians of this place died, 
 their beads were buried with them ; this custom was last 
 year changed for a holier one, by means of a good Ciiris- 
 tian who, when dying, gave her chaplet to another, beg- 
 ging her to keep it and say it for her, at least on feast 
 days. This charity was done to her, and the custom 
 was introduced from that time : so it was that when any 
 one died, his or her rosary was given, with a little pres- 
 ent, to some one chosen from the company present, who 
 is bound to take it, and say it for the departed soul, at 
 least on Sundays and Festivals. — Journal of Father Jacques 
 
 Buteux in " Relations^' Vol. If. 
 
 4t ^S' * * * * ^^ 
 
 In one of the Huron missions, an Indian named Jo- 
 achim Annicouton, converted after many years of evil 
 courses and, later, of hypocritical pretense of conversion, 
 was murdered by three drunken savages of his own tribe, 
 but lived long enough to edify all around him 'by his 
 pious resignation, his admirable patience in the most 
 cruel sufferings, and his generous forgiveness of his ene- 
 mies. Having given a touching account of his death, the 
 good Father Claude Dablon goes on to say : 
 
 " A very singular circumstance took place at his burial, 
 which was attended by all the families of the village, 
 with many of the French residents of the neighborhood. 
 Before the body was laid in the earth, the widovv^ in- 
 quired if the authors of his death were present ; being 
 told that they were not, she begged that they might be 
 sent for. These poor creatures having come, they drew 
 near to the corpse, with downcast eyes, sorrow and co.n- 
 fusion in their faces. The widow, looking upon them, 
 said: 'Well! behold poor Joachim Annicouton, you 
 know what brought him to the state in which you now 
 see him ; I ask of you no other satisfaction but that you 
 
 pray to God for the repose of his soul.' . . ." 
 
 * * * * -x- * * 
 
204 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 " It is customary amongst the Indians to give all the 
 goods of the dead to their relatives and friends, to mourn 
 their death ; but the husband of Catherine, in his quality 
 of first captain, assembled the Council of the Ancients, 
 and told them that they must no longer keep to their 
 former customs, which profited nothing to the dead; 
 that, as for him, his thought was to dress up the body of 
 the deceased in her best garments, as she might rise some 
 day, — and to employ the rest of what belonged to her in 
 giving alms to the poor. This thought was approved of 
 by all, and it became a law which was ever after strictly 
 observed. 
 
 *' The body of his wife was then arrayed in her best 
 clothes, and he distributed amongst the poor all that re- 
 mained of her little furniture, charging them to pray for 
 the dead. The whole might have amounted to three 
 hundred francs, which is a great deal for an Indian." — 
 Rdlations, 1673-4. 
 
 " THey^ have established amongst them a somewhat 
 singular practice to help the souls in Purgatory. Besides 
 the offerings they make for that to the Church, and the 
 alms they give to the poor, — besides the devotion of the 
 four Sundays of the month, to which is attached an in- 
 dulgence for the souls in Purgatory, so great that these 
 days are like Easter; as soon as any one is dead, his or 
 her nearest relations make a spiritual collection of com- 
 munions in every family, begging them to offer all they 
 can for the repose of the dead." — Relations, 1677-8. 
 ******* 
 
 ' The Hurons of Loretto, near Quebec. 
 
 J 
 
 I 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 205 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 SUPERSTITIOUS BELIEF AMONGST SOME OF THE NORTH 
 
 AMERICAN INDIANS. 
 
 CABRAL. 
 
 When they arc asked what they think of the soul, they 
 answer that it is the shadow "or living image" of the 
 body ; and it is as a consequence of this principle that they 
 believe all animated in the universe. It is by tradition 
 that they suppose the soul immortal. They pretend that, 
 separated from the body, it retains the inclinations it had 
 during life ; and hence comes the custom of burying with 
 the dead all that had served to satisfy their wants or their 
 tastes. They are even persuaded that the soul remains a 
 long time near the body after their separation, and that it 
 afterwards passes on into a country which they know not, 
 or, as some will have it, transformed into a turtle. Others 
 give all men two souls, one such as we have mentioned, 
 the other which never leaves the body, and goes from one 
 but to pass into another. 
 
 For this reason it is that they bury children on the 
 roadside, so that women passing by may pick up these 
 second souls, which, not having long enjoyed life, are 
 more eager to begin it anew. They must also be fed ; and 
 for that purpose it is that divers sorts of food are placed 
 on the graves, but that is only done for a little while, as it 
 is supposed that in time the souls get accustomed to fast- 
 ing. The difficulty they find in supporting the living 
 makes them forget the care for the nourishment of the 
 dead. It is also customary to bury with them all that 
 had belonged to them, presents being even added 
 thereto ; hence it is a grievous scandal amongst all those 
 nations when they see Europeans open graves to take 
 out the beaver robes they have placed therein. The 
 burial-grounds are places so respected that their profa- 
 nation is accounted the most atrocious outrage that can 
 be offered to an Indian village. 
 
 Is there not in all this a semblance of behef in our doc- 
 trine of Purgatory ? 
 
 
 I 
 
206 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 EEMEMBRANGE OF THE DEAD AMONGST THE 
 
 EGYPTIANS. 
 
 In Egypt, as all over the East, the lives of women 
 amongst the wealthier classes are for the most part spent 
 within the privacy of their homes, as it were in close con- 
 finement : they are born, live, and die in the bosom of 
 that impenetrable sanctuary. It is only on Thursday 
 that they go forth, with their slaves carrying refresh- 
 ments and followed by hired weepers. It is a sacred 
 duty that calls them to the public cemetery. There they 
 have funeral hymns chanted, their own plaintive cries 
 mingling with the sorrowful lamentations of the mourn- 
 ers. They shed tears and flowers on the graves of their 
 kindred, which they afterwards cover with the meats 
 brought by their servants, and all the crowd, after inviting 
 the souls of the dead, partake of a religious repast, in the 
 persuasion that those beloved shades taste of the same 
 food and are present at the sympathetic banquet. Is 
 there not in this superstition a distorted tradition of the 
 dogma by which we are commanded not to forget the 
 souls of our brethren beyond the grave? — Annals of the 
 Propagation of the Faith, Vol. XVII. 
 
 i 
 'if 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
HISTORICAL, 
 
 207 
 
 REMEMBEANCE OF THE DEAD THROUGHOUT EUROPE. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 ANNA T. SADLIER. 
 
 " Hark! the whirlwind is in the wood, a low murmur 
 in the vale ; it is the mighty army of the dead returning 
 from the air." These beautiful words occur in one of the 
 ancient Celtic poems quoted by Macphcrson and dating 
 some thousand years later than Ossian. For the Celts 
 held to the doctrine of the immortality of souls, and be- 
 lieved that their ethereal substance was wafted from 
 place to place by the wind on the clouds of heaven. 
 Amongst the Highlanders a belief prevailed that there 
 were certain hills to which the spirits of their departed 
 friends had a peculiar attachment. Thus the hill of Ore 
 was regarded by the house of Crubin as their place of 
 meeting in the future life, and its summit was supposed to 
 be supernaturally illumined when any member of the family 
 died. It was likewise a popular belief that the spirits of the 
 departed haunted places beloved in life, hovered about 
 their friends, and appeared at times on the occasion of any 
 important family event. In the calm of a new existence, 
 
 " Side by side they sit who once mixed in battle their steel." 
 
 There is a poetic beauty in many of these ancient be- 
 liefs concerning the dead, but they are far surpassed in 
 grandeur and sublimity, as well as in deep tenderness, by 
 the Christian conception of a state of purgation after 
 death, when the souls of the departed are still bound to 
 their dear ones upon earth by a strong spiritual bond 
 of mutual help. They dwell, then, in an abode of peace, 
 although of intense suffering, and calmly await the eter- 
 nal decree which summons them to heaven ; while the 
 time cf their probation is shortened day by day, month 
 by month, year by year by the Masses, prayers, alms- 
 deeds and other suffrages of their friends who are still 
 
 \i 
 
208 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 dwellers on earth, living the old life; and in its rusli of 
 cares and duties, of pleasures and of pains, forj^ettins^ 
 them too often in all save i)rayer. That is the reminder. 
 The dead who have died in tiie bosom of the Holy Church 
 can never be quite forgotten. " The mighty army of the 
 dead returning from the air" might in our Catholic con- 
 ception be that host of delivered souls who, after the 
 Feast of All Souls, or some such season of special prayer 
 for them, are arising upwards into everlasting bliss. But 
 it is our purpose in the present chapters to gather up 
 from the byways of history occasions when the belief in 
 prayer for the dead is made manifest, whether it be in 
 some noted individual, in a people, or in a country. It is 
 ** the low murmur of the vale " going up constantly from 
 all peoples, from all times, under all conditions. 
 
 In Russia not only is prayer for the dead most sedu- 
 lously observed by the Catholic Church, but also in a 
 most particular manner by the Schismatic Greeks. The 
 following details under this head will be, no doubt, of in- 
 terest to our readers : 
 
 " As soon as the spirit has departed, the body is dressed 
 and placed in an open coffin in a room decorated for the 
 purpose. Numerous lights are kept burning day and 
 night; and while the relations take turns to watch and 
 pray by the coffm, the friends come to pay the last visit 
 to the deceased. . . . On the decease of extraordi- 
 nary persons, the Emperor and his successor are accus- 
 tomed to visit the corpse, while the poor, on the other 
 hand, never fail to lament at the door the loss of their 
 benefactor, and to be dismissed with handsome donations. 
 Total strangers, too, come of their own accord to offer a 
 prayer for the deceased ; for the image of a saint hung up 
 before the door indicates to every passenger the house of 
 mourning. . . . The time of showing the corpse lasts 
 in general only three or four days, and then follow the 
 blessing of the deceased, and the granting of the pass. 
 The latter is to be taken literally. The co/pse is carried 
 to the Church, and the priest lays upon the breast a long 
 
; rush of 
 
 Jiniiulcr. 
 
 Church 
 y of the 
 :)lic con- 
 
 tcr the 
 I i)raycr 
 ss. 13ut 
 thcr up 
 belief in 
 it be in 
 y. It is 
 tly from 
 
 st sedu- 
 ^o in a 
 s. The 
 )t, of in- 
 dressed 
 for the 
 lay and 
 ;ch and 
 ist visit 
 :raordi- 
 ! accus- 
 e other 
 •f their 
 lations. 
 offer a 
 ung- up 
 ouse of 
 se lasts 
 ow the 
 e pass. 
 :arried 
 a long- 
 
 1 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 209 
 
 paper, which the coinmon people call ' a pass for heaven.' 
 On this paper is written the Christian name of the de- 
 ceased, the date of his birth and tliat of his death it 
 tiien states that he was baptized as a Christian, that he 
 lived as such, and before his death, received the Sacra- 
 ment - in short, the whole course of life which he led as a 
 Greek Russian Christian. . . . All who meet a fune- 
 ral take off their hats, and offer a prayer to I leaven for the 
 deceased, and such is the outward respect paid on such 
 occasions, that it is not until they have entirely lost 
 sight of the })rocession that they ])ut on their hats again. 
 This honor is paid to every corpse, whether of the Rus- 
 sian, Protestant, or Catholic Communions. . . . After 
 the corpse is duly prepared, the priests sing a funeral 
 INIass, called in Russian clerical language, /^?;//V/;zV/<'. . . . 
 On the anniversary of the death of a beloved relative, 
 they assemble in the Church, and have a paiiichidc read 
 for his soul. . . . Persons of distinction found a lamp 
 to burn forever at the tombs of their dead, and have these 
 panicJiidcs repeated every week, for, perhaps, a long series 
 of years. Lastly, every year, on a particular day, Easter 
 INIonday, a service and a repast are held for all the 
 dead." 
 
 The history of France, like that of all Catholic nations, 
 abounds in instances of public intercession for the dead, 
 the pomp and splendor of royal obsequies, the solemn ut- 
 terances of public individuals ; the celebrations at Pere 
 la Chaise, the magnificent requiems. In a nation so 
 purely Catholic as it was and is, though the scum of 
 evil men have arisen like a foul miasma to its surface, it 
 does not surprise us. We shall therefore select from its 
 history an incident or two, somewhat at random. That 
 beautiful one, far back at the era of the Crusades, where 
 St. Louis, King of France, abse.1t in the East, received in- 
 tclliafcnce of the death of Oueen Blanche, his mother. The 
 grief of the Papal Legate, who had come to announce the 
 news, was apparent in his face, and Louis, fearing some 
 new blow, led the prelate into his chapel, which, accord- 
 
 ti5 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 l A 
 
 
 :^i'' 
 
I 
 
 2IO 
 
 rUKflATOKY. 
 
 irifj to an ancient chronicler, was " his arsenal ap^ainst all 
 the crosses of tiie world." Louis, overcome with sorrow, 
 (|uicivly chanj^ed his tears and lamentations into tlie hm- 
 jj^iia<;e of resignation, and desiring to be lett alone with 
 his confessor, Geoffrey de Beaulieu, recited the office of 
 the dead. *' Me was present every day at a funeral ser- 
 vice celebrated in memory of his mother; and sent into 
 the West a great number of jewels and precious stones to 
 be distributed among the principal churches of France; 
 at the same time exhorting the clergy to put up praycry 
 for the repose of his mother. In proportion with his 
 endeavors," continues the historian, " to procure prayers 
 for his mother, his grief yielded to the hope of seeing her 
 again in heaven ; and his mind, when calmed by resigna- 
 tion, found its most effectual consolation in that mysteri- 
 ous tie which still unites us with those we have lost, in 
 that religious sentiment which mingles with our affections 
 to purify them, and with our regrets to mitigate them." ' 
 
 In the Instructions which St. Louis addressed on his 
 death-bed to his son, Philip the Bold, is to be found the 
 following paragraph : 
 
 *' Dear Son, I pray thee, it it shall please our Lord that 
 I should quit this life before thee, that thou wilt help 
 me with Masses and prayers, and that thou wilt send to 
 the congregations of the kingdom of France, to make 
 them put up prayers for my soul, and that tiiou wilt 
 desire that our Lord may give me part in all the good 
 deeds thou shalt perform." - 
 
 l^hilip, on the death of his father, in a letter which was 
 read aloud in all the churches, begs of the clergy and 
 faithful, *' to put up to the King of kings their prayers 
 and their offerings for that prince ; with whose zeal for 
 religion and tender solicitude for the kingdom of France, 
 which he loved as the apple of his eye, they were so well 
 acquainted." 
 
 » " MicliaudV, Hist, of the Crusades," Vol. II., pp. 477-8. 
 * ThcsL instructions were preserved in a register of the Chamber of Ac- 
 counts. Sec Appendix to " Michaud's History of Crusades," Vol. II., p. 471. 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 '''']"* wt^MISSfT^'- 
 
good 
 
 of Ac- 
 p. 471- 
 
 IIISTORICAI<. 
 
 211 
 
 In the Cliroiii'jics of Froissart, as well as in the (Iraiulc 
 Cluotiiciiie ol St. Denis, \vc read that the body ol Kinj^ 
 John, who died a prisoner in Mnj^land, was broiij^iit iionui 
 with ^^reat pomp and circunistanee, on the lirst chiy of 
 May, 1364. It was at first phiced in tlie Abbey of St. 
 Antlionv, thence removed to Notre Dame, and finally to 
 St. Deiiis, the festing"-place of royalty, where solemn 
 Mass was said. On the lIay of his interment, the Arch- 
 bishop of Sens sanf*- the requiem. Thus did Holy Mother 
 Chureh welcome the exile home. 
 
 A i)retty anecdote is that of Marie Lccsinska, Oucen of 
 Louis XV., who, on hearing of the death of Marshal 
 Saxc, a Lutheran by profession, and but an indifferent 
 observerOf the maxims of any creed, cried out: " Alas! 
 what a pity that we cannot sing a Dr Profundis for a man 
 who has made us sing so many Tc Dcuuisy 
 
 We cannot take our leave of France, without noticing 
 here the beautiful prayer offered up by the saintly l*rin- 
 cess Louise dc Bourbon Conde, in religion Sa:iir Marie 
 Joseph dc la Miscricordc, on hearing of the death of her 
 nephew, the Due d'Enghien, so cruelly put to death by 
 the first Napoleon. Falling, face downwards, on the 
 earth, she prayed : " Mercy, my God, have mercy upon 
 him ! Have mercy, Lord, on the soul of Louis Antoine ! 
 Pardon the faults of his youth, remembering the precious 
 Blood, which Jesus Christ shed for all men, and have 
 regard to the cruel manner in which his blood was shed. 
 Glory and misfortune have attended his life. But what 
 we call glory, has it any claims in Thy eyes? However, 
 Lord, it is not a demerit before Thee, when it is based on 
 true honor, which is always inseparable from devotion to 
 our duties. Thou knowest. Lord, those that he has ful- 
 filled, and for those in which he has failed, let the misfor- 
 tunes of whicli he has been at last the victim, be a repara- 
 tion and an expiation. Again, Lord, I ask for mercy for 
 his soul." On the death of Napoleon, the murderer of 
 this beloved nephew, the same holy religious wrote to the 
 Bishop of St. Flour : " Bonaparte is dead ; he was your 
 
 I 
 
 
 J if 
 
 
 N 
 
 ^. 
 
212 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 enemy, for he persecuted you. I think you will say a 
 Mass for him ; I beg also that you say a Mass on my be- 
 half for this unfortunate man." 
 
 Turning to the History of Rome, it will be of interest 
 to take a glance at the pious Confraternity dclla Mortc 
 which was instituted in 1551, and regularly established in 
 1560, by His Holiness, Pius IV. It was chiefly composed 
 of citizens of high rank. Its object was to provide burial 
 for the dead. Solemnly broke upon the balmy stillness 
 of the Roman nights, all these years and centuries since 
 its foundation, its chanting of holy psalmody, and its 
 audible praying for the dead, borne along in its religious 
 keeping. The glare of the waxen torches fell upon the 
 bier, the voices of the associates joined in the Miserere, 
 and the Church reached, the corpse was laid there, till 
 the fitting hour, when the Requiem Mass should be sung, 
 and the final absolution given, preparatory to interment. 
 
 Florence supplies us with a brilliant picture of that 
 sixth day of July, 1439, ^^e feast of Saint Romolo the 
 Martyr, in the ninth year of the Pontificate of Pope 
 Eugenius IV., when long-standing differences between 
 the Greek and Latin Churches were brought to an end in 
 a most amicable manner. Alas ! for the Greeks, that they 
 did not accept the decisions of that day as final. On the 
 22d of January, 1439, Cosmo de Medici, then Gonfalonierc 
 of Florence, received the Pope and his cardinals, with a 
 pomp and splendor unknown to the history of modern 
 Europe. On the 12th of the following month came the 
 Patriarch, Joseph of Constantinople, and his bishops and 
 theologians. On the 15th arrived the Greek Emperor, 
 John Paleologus, who was received at the Porto San 
 Gallo by the Pope and all his cardinals, the Florentine 
 Signory, and a long procession of the members of the 
 monastic orders. " A rare and very remarkable assem- 
 blage," says a chronicler^ "of the most learned men of 
 Europe, and, indeed, of those extra European seats of a 
 
 ' T. A. Trollope, in '• History of the Commonwealth of Florence," Vol. 
 III., pp. 137-8. 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 ill say a 
 1 my be- 
 
 intercst 
 'a Mortc 
 lishcd in 
 )mposed 
 le burial 
 stillness 
 ies since 
 
 and its 
 ■eligious 
 tpon the 
 Miserere, 
 licre, till 
 be sung, 
 ::rment. 
 
 of that 
 lolo the 
 3f Pope 
 between 
 n end in 
 riat they 
 
 On the 
 aloniere 
 , with a 
 modern 
 ime the 
 ops and 
 mperor, 
 rto San 
 3rentine 
 : of the 
 
 assem- 
 
 men of 
 ats of a 
 
 nee," Vol. 
 
 
 m 
 
 213 
 
 past culture, which were even nov/ giving forth the last 
 flashes from a once brilliant light on the point of being 
 quenched in utter darkness, were thus assembled at 
 Florence." 
 
 This was the inauguration of the far-famed Council of 
 Florence, which had the result of settling the points at 
 issue between the Eastern and Western Churches. " The 
 Greeks confessed that the Roman faith proceeded rightly 
 {procieeiere bene), and united themselves with it by the 
 grace of God." Proclamation was accordingly made in 
 the Cathedral, then called Santa Reparata, that the 
 Greeks had agreed to hold nnd to believe the five dis- 
 puted articles of which the fifth was, " That he who dies 
 in sin for which penance has been done, but from which 
 he has not been purged, goes to Purgatory, and that the 
 divine offices, Masses, prayers, and alms are useful for the 
 purging of him," 
 
 In the history of Ireland, as might be expected, we 
 come upon many instances wherein the dead are sol- 
 emnly remembered from that period, when still pagan, 
 and one of the ancient manuscripts gives us an account of 
 certain races, it calls them, which were held for "■ the 
 souls of the foreigners slain in battle." This was back in 
 the night of antiquity, and was no doubt some relic of 
 the Christian tradition which had remained amid the 
 darkness of paganism. But to come to the Christian 
 period. The famous Hugues de Lasci, or Hugo de Lacy, 
 Lord of Meath, and one of the most distinguished men in 
 early Irish annals, founded many abbeys and priories, one 
 at Colpe, near the mouth of the. Boyne, one at Duleek, 
 one at Dublin, and one at Kells. The Canons of St. 
 Augustine, as we read, "in return for this gift, covenanted 
 that one of them should be constantly retained as a chap- 
 lain to celebrate Mass for his soul and for those of his 
 ancestors and successors." We also read how Marguer- 
 ite, wife of Gualticr de Lasci, brother of the above, gave 
 a large tract in the royal forest of Acorncbury, in Here- 
 fordshire, for the erection of a nunnery for the benefit of 
 
 It 
 
 - 
 
 W 
 
 tS^SSSm 
 
■! ' 
 
 214 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 the souls of her parents, Guillaumc and Mathilda dc 
 Braose, who with their son, her brother, had been fam- 
 ished in the dungeon at Windsor." In the account of the 
 death in Spain of Red Hugh O'Donnell, who holds a 
 high place among the chivalry of Ireland, it is mentioned 
 that on his death-bed, " after lamenting his crimes and 
 transgressions ; after a rigid penance for his sins and in- 
 iquities ; after making his confession without reserve to 
 his confessors, and receiving the body and blood of Christ ; 
 after being duly anointed by the hands of his own con- 
 fessors and ecclesiastical attendants," he expired after 
 seventeen days' illness at the king's palace in Simancas. 
 " His body," says the ancient chronicler, " was conveyed 
 to the king's palace at Valladolid in a four-wheeled hearse, 
 surrounded by countless numbers of the king's State 
 officers, council and guards, with luminous torches and 
 bright flambeaux of wax lights burning on either side. 
 He was afterwards interred in the monastery of St. Fran- 
 cis, in the Chapter, precisely, with veneration and honor, 
 and in the most solemn manner tliat any of the Gaels had 
 been ever interred in before. Masses and many hymns, 
 chants and melodious canticles were celebrated for the 
 welfare of his soul; and his requiem was sung with be- 
 coming solemnity." 
 
 On the death of the celebrated Brian Boroihme, histori- 
 ans relate how his body was conveyed by the clergy to 
 the Abbey of Swords, whence it was brought by other 
 portions of the clergy and taken successively to two mon- 
 asteries. It was then met by the Archbishop of Armagh, 
 at the head of his priesthood, and ^conveyed to Armagh, 
 where the obsequies were celebrated with a pomp and a 
 fervor worthy the greatness and the piety of the deceased 
 monarch. 
 
 In view of the arguments which arc sometimes adduced 
 to prove that the early Irish Church did not teach this 
 doctrine of prayer for the dead, it is curious to observe how 
 in St. Patrick's second Council he expressly forbids the 
 holy sacrifice being offered up after death for those who 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 15 
 
 L 
 
 in life had made themselves unworthy of such suffrages. 
 At the Synod of Cashel, held just after the Norman con- 
 quest, the claim of each dead man's soul to a certain part 
 of liis chattels after death was asserted. To steal a page 
 from the time-worn chronicles of Scotland, it is told by 
 Theodoric that when Queen Marcfaret of Scotland, that 
 gentle and noble character upon whom the Church has 
 placed the crown of canonization, was dying, she said to 
 him : " Two things 1 have to desire of thee ; " and one of 
 these was thus worded, " that as long as thou livest 
 thou wilt remember my poor soul in thy Masses and 
 prayers." It had been her custom in life to recite the 
 office of the dead every day during Lent and Advent. 
 Sir Walter Scott mentions in his Minstrelsy of the Scot- 
 tish Border *' a curious league or treaty of peace between 
 two hostile clans, by which the heads of each became 
 bound to make the four pilgrimages of Scotland for the 
 benefit of those souls who had fallen in the feud." In the 
 Bond of Alliance or Field Staunching Betwixt the Clans 
 of Scott and Ker this agreement is thus worded : "That 
 it is appointed, agreed and finally accorded betwixt hon- 
 orable men," the names arc here mentioned, *• Walter Ker 
 of Cessford, Andrew Ker of Fairniehcrst," etc., etc., " for 
 themselves, kin, friends, maintenants, assisters, allies, ad- 
 herents, and partakers, on the one part ; and Walter Scott 
 of Branxholm," etc., etc., etc. For the staunching of all dis- 
 cord and variance between them and so on, amongst 
 other provisions, that " the said Walter Scott of Branx- 
 holm shall gang, or cause gang, at the will of the party, 
 to the four head pilgrimages of Scotland, and shall say a 
 Mass ibr the unquhile Andrew Ker of Cessford and them 
 that were slain in his company in the field of Melrose ; 
 and, upon his expence, shall cause a chaplain to say a 
 Mass daily, when he is disposed, in what place the said 
 Walter Ker and his friend pleases, for the weilof the said 
 souls, for the space of five years next to come. Mark 
 Ker of Dolphinston, Andrew Ker of Graden, shall gang 
 at the will of the party to the four head pilgrimages of 
 
 I ; 
 
2l6 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Scotland, and shall gar say a Mass for the souls of the 
 unquhile James Scott of Eskirk and other Scots, their 
 friends, slain in the field of Melrose ; and, upon their ex- 
 pence, shall gar a chaplain say a Mass daily, when he is 
 disposed, for the heal of their souls, where the said Wal- 
 ter Scott and his friend pleases, for the space of the next 
 three years to come." We may mention that the four 
 pilgrimages are Scoon, Dundee, Paisley, and Melrose. 
 This devotion of praying for the dead seems, indeed, to 
 have taken strong hold upon these rude borderers, who. 
 Sir Walter Scott informs us, " remained attached to the 
 Roman Catholic faith rather longer than the rest of Scot- 
 land." In many of their ancient ballads, at some of which 
 we have already glanced, this belief is prominent. The 
 dying man, or as in the case of Clerk Saunders, the ghost 
 begs of his survivors to " wish my soul good rest." This 
 belief is intermingled with their superstitions as in that 
 one attached to Macduff's Cross. This cross is situated 
 near Lindores, on the marsh dividing Fife from Strathern. 
 Around the pedestal of this cross are tumuli, said to be 
 the graves of those who, having claimed the privilege of 
 the law, failed in proving their consanguinity to the 
 Thane of Fife, Such persons were instantly executed. 
 The people of New burgh believe that the spectres oi 
 these criminals still haunt the ruined cross, and claim that 
 mercy for their souls which they had failed to obtain for 
 their mortal existence. 
 
 Thus does the historian ^ mention the burial of St. Ni- 
 nian, one of the favorite Saints of the Scots : " He was 
 buried in the Church of St. Martin, which he had him- 
 self built from the foundation, and placed in a stone coflin 
 near the altar, the clergy and people standing by and lift- 
 ing up their heavenly hymns with heart and voice, with 
 sighs and tears." 
 
 In the treasurer's books which relate to the reign of 
 James IV. of Scotland, there is the following entry for 
 April, 1503: ''The king v/ent again to Whethorn." (A 
 
 MValsh's Hist, of the Cath. Church in Scotland. 
 
 I 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 217 
 
 of the 
 ;, their 
 leir ex- 
 n he is 
 d Wal- 
 he next 
 le four 
 [elrose. 
 ieed, to 
 •s, who, 
 
 to the 
 )f Scot- 
 f which 
 . The 
 e ghost 
 " This 
 
 in that 
 situated 
 •athern. 
 d to be 
 
 lege of 
 
 to the 
 ecuted, 
 :tres ot 
 
 im that 
 
 ain for 
 
 St. Ni- 
 -le was 
 d hiin- 
 e coOin 
 md lift- 
 e, with 
 
 leign of 
 try for 
 " (A 
 
 - 
 
 L 
 
 place of pilgrimage.) " While there he heard of the der.th 
 of his brother, John, Earl of Mar, and charged the priests 
 to perform a * dirge and soul Mass ' for his brother, and 
 paid them for their pains." 
 
 In Montalembert's beautiful description of lona, he 
 mentions the tradition which declares that eiji:ht Norwe- 
 gian kings or princes, four kings of Ireland, and forty- 
 eight Scottish kings were buried there, as also one king 
 of France, whose name is not mentioned, and Egfrid, the 
 Saxon King of Northumbria. There is the tomb of Rob- 
 ert Bruce, the tombs of many bishops, abbots, and of the 
 great chiefs and nobles, the Macdougalls, Lords of Lorn ; 
 the Macdonalds, Lords of the Isles ; the Macleods, and the 
 Macleans. Nowhere, perhaps, has death placed his seal 
 on a more imposing assemblage, of truly royal stateliness, 
 of astonishingly cosmopolitan variety. In the midst of it 
 all, in the very centre of the burying-ground, stands a 
 ruined chapel, under the invocation of St. Oran, the first 
 Irish monk who died in this region. The church was 
 built by the sainted Margaret, the wife of Malcolm Can- 
 more, and the mother of St. David. Its mission there 
 was obvious. From its altar arose to the Most High, the 
 solemn celebration of the dread mysteries, the psalm and 
 the prayer, for prince and for prelate, for the great alike 
 in the spiritual and temporal hierarchy. 
 
 The Duke of Argyle, in his v.'ork on lona, seems aston- 
 ished to find that St. Columba believed in all the princi- 
 pal truths of Catholic faith, amongst others, prayers* for 
 the dead, and yet he considers that he could not be called 
 a Catholic. The process of reasoning is a curious one. 
 
 Mention is made in the history of Scotland of a famous 
 bell, preserved at Glasgow until the Reformation. It 
 was supposed to have been brought from Rome by St. 
 Kentigern, and was popularly called " St. Mungo's Bell." 
 It was tolled through the city to invite the citizens to 
 pray for the repose of departed souls. 
 
 In the great cathedrals of Scotland, before the I^cforma- 
 tion, private chapels and altars were endowed for the re- 
 
2l8 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 lief of the dead, while in the cities and large towns, each 
 trade or corporation had an altar in the principal churches 
 and supported a chaplain to offer up ^Iasses and prayers 
 as well for the dead as for the living. 
 
 The following incident is related in the life of the lovely 
 and so sadly maligned Mary Queen of Scots. In the 
 early days of her reign, when still struggling with the in- 
 tolerant fury of Knox and his followers, — it was in the 
 December of 1561 — Mary desired to have solemn Mass 
 offered up for the repose of the soul of her deceased hus- 
 band, the youthful Francis. This so aroused the fury of 
 the fanatics about her, that they threatened to take the 
 life of the priests who had officiated. " Immediately after 
 the Requiem was over, she caused a proclamation to be 
 made by a Herald at the Market Cross, that no man on 
 pain of his life should do any injury, or give offense or 
 trouble to her chaplains." 
 
 The poet Campbell in his dirge for Wallace, makes the 
 Lady of Elderslie, the hero's wife, cry out in the first in- 
 tensity of her sorrow ; 
 
 r 
 
 " Now sing you the deatli-song and loudly pray 
 For the soul of my kniglit 'so dear.'" 
 
 We shall now leave the wild poetic region of Scotland, 
 and with it conclude Part First, taking up again in Part 
 Second the thread of our narrative, which will wind 
 in and out through various countries of Europe, ending 
 at last with a glance at our own America. 
 
 i t 
 
s, each 
 urchcs 
 >raycrs 
 
 lovely 
 In the 
 the in- 
 in the 
 1 Mass 
 ;d hus- 
 fury of 
 ake the 
 ly after 
 1 to be 
 nan on 
 ense or 
 
 ikes the 
 tirst in- 
 
 ;otland, 
 n Part 
 1 wind 
 ending 
 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 219 
 
 f 
 
 t 
 
 REMEMBRANCE OF THE DEAD THROUGHOUT EUROPE. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 In Austria we find an example of devotion to the dead, 
 in the saintly Empress Eleanor, who, after the death of 
 her husband, the Emperor Leopold, in 1705, was wont to 
 pray two hours every day for the eternal repose of his 
 soul. Not less touching is an account given by a Protest- 
 ant traveller of an humble pair, whom he encountered at 
 Prague during his wanderings there. They were father 
 and daughter, and attached, the one as bell-ringer, the 
 other as laundress, to the Church on the Visselirad. He 
 found them in their little dwelling. It was on the festival 
 of St. Anne, when all Prague was making merry. The 
 girl said to him : " Father and I were just sitting to- 
 gether, and this being St. Anne's Day, we were thinking of 
 my mother, whose name was also Anne." The father 
 then said, addressing his daughter : "■ Thou shalt go down 
 to St. Jacob's to-morrow, and have a INIass read for thy 
 mother, Anne." For the mother who had been long 
 years slumbering in the little cemetery hard by. There is 
 something touching to me in this little incident, for it tells 
 how the pious memory of the beloved dead dwelt in 
 these simple hearts, dwells in the hearts of the people 
 everywhere, as in that of the pious empress, whose in- 
 consolable sorrow found vent in long hours of prayer for 
 the departed. 
 
 In the will of Christopher Columbus there is special 
 mention made of the church which he desired should be 
 erected at Concepcion, one of his favorite places in the 
 New World, so named by himself. In this church he 
 arranged that three Masses should be celebrated daily — 
 the first in honor of the Blessed Trinity ; the second, in 
 honor of the Immaculate Conception ; and the third for the 
 faithful departed. This will was made in May, 1506. The 
 body of the great discoverer was laid in the earth, to the 
 
 !'" 
 
 
 ■ill 
 
 ' 
 
 t 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 3=3= 
 
(*'" 
 
 220 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 lasting- shame of the Spaniards, with but little other re- 
 membrance than that which the Churcli gives to the 
 meanest of her children. The Franciscans, his first 
 friends, as now his last, accompanied his remains to the 
 Cathedral Church of Valladolid, where a Requiem Mass 
 was sung, and his body laid in the vault of the Obscrvan- 
 tines witii but little pomp. Later on, however, the king, 
 in remorse for past neglect, or from whatever cause, had 
 the body taken up and transported with great pomp to 
 Seville. There a Mass was simg, and a solemn funeral 
 service took place at the catliedral, whence the corpse 
 of the Admiral was conveyed beyond the Guadal- 
 quivir to St. jNIary of the Grottoes (Santa Maria de las 
 Grutas). But the remains of this most wonderful of men 
 were snatched from the silence of the Carthusian cloister 
 some ten years later, and taken thence to Castile, thence 
 again to San Domingo, where they were laid in the sanc- 
 tuary of the cathedral to the right of the main altar. 
 Again they were disturbed and taken on board the brig- 
 antinc Discovery to tlie Island of Cuba, where solemnly, 
 once more, the Requiem for the Dead swelled out, filling 
 with awe the immense assembly, comprising, as we are 
 told, all the civil and military notables of the island. 
 
 In the annals of the Knight Hospitallers of St. John, it 
 is recorded that after a great and providential victory 
 won b}^ them over the Moslem foe, and by the fruits of 
 which Rhodes was saved from falling into the hands of 
 the enemy, the Grand Master D'Aubusson proceeded to 
 the Church of St. John to return thanks. And that he 
 also caused the erection of three churches in honor of Our 
 Blessed Lad}^ and the Patron Saints of the city. These 
 three churches were endowed for prayers and Masses to 
 be offered in perpetuity for the souls of those who had 
 fallen in battle. This D'Aubusson was in all respects one 
 of the most splendid knights that Christendom has pro- 
 duced. A model of Christian knighthood, he is unques- 
 tionably one of the greatest of the renowned Grand Mas- 
 ters of St. John. There is a touching incident told in 
 
 9« 
 
 )^ 
 
brig- 
 
 1^ 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 221 
 
 these same annals of two knij^hts, the Chevalier de Scr- 
 viciix, counted the most accomplished gentleman of his 
 day, and La Roche Pichelle. Both of them were not 
 only the flower of Christian knighthood, but model relig- 
 ious as well. They died of wounds received in a sea 
 fight off Saragossa in 1630, and on their death-beds lay 
 side by side in the same room, consoling and exhorting 
 each other, it being arranged between them, that whoever 
 survived the longest should offer all his pains for the relief 
 of his companion's soul. 
 
 We have now reached a part of our work, upon which 
 we shall have occasion to dwell at some length, and not- 
 withstanding the fact that it has already formed the sub- 
 ject of two preceding articles. It is that which relates to 
 England, and which is doubly interesting to Catholics, as 
 being the early record of what is now the chief Protest- 
 ant nation of Europe. To go back to those Anglo-wSaxon 
 days, which might be called in some measure the golden 
 age of Catholic faith in England, we shall see what was 
 the custom which prevailed at the moment of dissolution. 
 In the regulations which follow there is not question of a 
 monarch nor a public individual, nor of priest nor prelate, 
 but simply of an ordinary Christian just dead. " The mo- 
 ment he expired the bell was tolled. Its solemn voice an- 
 nounced to the neij^hborhood that a Christian brother was 
 departed, and called on those who heard it to recommend 
 his soul to the mercy of his Creator. All were expected 
 to join, privately, at least, in this charitable office ; and in 
 monasteries, even if it were in the dead of night, the in- 
 mates hastened from their beds to the church, and sang a 
 solemn dirge. The only persons excluded from the ben- 
 efit of these prayers were those who died avowedly in de- 
 spair, or under the sentence of excommunication. 
 
 " . . . . Till the hour of burial, which was often de- 
 layed for some days to allow time for the arrival of 
 strangers from a distance, small parties of monks or cler- 
 gymen attended in rotation, either watching in silent 
 prayer by the corpse or chanting with subdued voice the 
 
 i.M! 
 
 1 
 
 i'i 
 
222 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 funeral service. . . . When the necessary prepara- 
 tions were completed, the body of the deceased was 
 placed on a bier or in a hearse. On it lay the book of 
 the Gospels, the code of his belief, and the cross, the 
 emblem of his hope. A pall of linen or silk was thrown 
 over it till it reached the place of interment. The friends 
 were invited, strangers often deemed it a duty to attend. 
 The clergy walked in procession before, or divided into 
 two bodies, one on each side, singing a portion of the 
 psalter and generally bearing lights in their hands. As 
 soon as they entered the church the service for the dead 
 was performed ; a INIass of requiem followed ; the body 
 was deposited in the grave, the sawlshot paid, and a lib- 
 eral donation distributed to the poor." ^ 
 
 In the northern portico of the Cathedral of Canterbury 
 was erected an altar in honor of St. Gregory, where a 
 Mass was offered every Saturday for the souls of de- 
 parted archbishops. We read that OidilwLld, King of 
 the Deiri, and son of King Oswald, founded a monastery 
 that it might be the place of his sepulture, because " he 
 was confident of deriving great benefit from the prayers 
 of those who should serve the Lord in that house." Dun- 
 wald the Thane, on his departure for Rome to carry 
 thither the alms of his dead m i^tcr, King Ethelwald, 
 A.D. 762, bequeathed a dwelling in the market in Queen- 
 gate to the Church of SS. Peter and Paul for the benefit of 
 the king's soul and his own soul." 
 
 As far back as the days of the good King Arthur,whosc 
 existence has been so enshrouded in fable that many have 
 come to believe him a myth, we read that Queen Guen- 
 ever II., of unhappy memory, having spent her last years 
 in repentance, was buried in Ambrcabury, Wiltshire. The 
 place of her interment was a monastery erected by Aure- 
 lius Ambrose, the uncle of King Arthur, " for the main- 
 tenance of three hundred monks to pray for the souls of 
 the British noblemen slain by Hengist." Upon her tomb 
 was inscribed, "in rude letters of massy gold," to quote 
 
 * " Lingard's Antiquities of the Anglo-Saxon Church," Vol. II., pp. 46-47. 
 
HIST 
 
 irAL. 
 
 223 
 
 
 the ancient chronicler, the 1 utiais R G. and the date 
 600 A.I). 
 
 In the Saxon annals Enflcda,thc wifi. of Os v. K'uvj <>( 
 Northumbria, plays a conspicuous part. Sc , aftrr ,r 
 marriai^c, ()s\vin,hcr luisband's brother, cons jucntl} kt 
 cousin and brother-in-law, was slain. The f|«ic'cn caused 
 a monastery to be erected on the spot where he fell as a 
 reparation for her husband's fratricide, and as a propiti- 
 ation for the soul of the departed. This circumstance is 
 alluded to by more than one English poet, as also the 
 monastery which Enfleda, for the same purpose, caused 
 to be erected at Tynemouth. Thus Harding : 
 
 " Oucen Enfleil, that wns King Oswy's wife, 
 King Edwin, his daughter, full of goodncssc, 
 For Oswyn's soule a minster, in her life, 
 Made at Tynemouth, and for Oswy causeless 
 That hym so bee slainc and killed helpeless ; 
 For she was kin to Oswy and Oswin, 
 As liedc in chronicle dooeth determyn." 
 
 The most eminent Catholic poet of our own day, Sir 
 Aubrey de Vere, in his Saxon legends, likewise refers to 
 it. He describes first what 
 
 " Gentlest form kneels on the rain-washed ground, 
 From Giling's Keep a stone's throw. Whose those hands 
 Now pressed in anguish on a bursting heart. 
 
 What purest mouth 
 
 ***** » * * 
 
 Presses a new-made grave, and through the blades 
 Of grass wind shaken, breathes her piteous prayer? 
 
 Oswin's grave it is, 
 
 And she that o'er it kneels is Eantleda, 
 Kinswoman of the noble dead, and wife 
 To Oswin's murderer — Oswy." 
 
 Again, describing the repentance of Oswy : 
 
 " One Winter night 
 From distant chase belated he returned, 
 And passed by Oswin's grave. The snow, new fallen, 
 Whitened the precinct. In the blast she knelt, 
 
 <J 
 
'ir** 
 
 224 rURGATORV. 
 
 She hcanl him not draw ni^h. She only beat 
 
 Her breast, ami, praying, wept. Our sin ! our sin ! 
 
 41 >l< IK HI ■)■ Id « 
 
 So came to him t!iose words. 'I'hcy drained him ch)wn : 
 lie liuclt beside ids wife, and licat liis iueast, 
 And said, ' .My sin ! niy sin !' 'lill earliest morn 
 (jlimmered through sleet that twain wept on, prayed on: — 
 Was it tlie rising;; sun that lit at last 
 Ti»e (.ur face upwaril lifted ? 
 
 Aloud she cried, 
 
 'Our prayer is heard : our penitence finds grace,' 
 
 Then added : ' Let it deepen till we die. 
 
 A monastery l)uild wc on this grave: 
 
 So from this grave, while fleet the years, that pr.ayer 
 
 Siiall rise both day and night, till ('hrist returns 
 
 To jiulge the world. — a prayer for him who died ; 
 
 A prayer for one who sinned, but sins no more !' " 
 
 In tlic p^rant preserved in the Bodleian Collection, 
 wherein Editha the Good, the widow of Edward tiie Con- 
 fessor, confers certain lands upon the Church of St. Mary 
 at Sarum, occurs the foUowinj^: 
 
 " I, Editha, relict of Kin^^ Edward, give to the support 
 of the Canons of St. Mary's Church, in Sarum, the lands 
 of Secorstan, in ^Viltshire, and those of Eorinanburn, to 
 the Monastery of Wherwell, for the support of the nuns 
 servinj^ God there, with the rights thereto belonging, for 
 the soul of King Edward."' 
 
 This queen was buried in Westminster Abbey, her 
 remains being removed from the north to the south side 
 of St. Edward's shrine, on the rebuilding of that edifice, 
 and it is recorded that Henry III. ordered a lamp to be 
 kept burning perpetually at the tomb of Editha the 
 Good. 
 
 It is related of the celebrated Lady Godiva of Coven- 
 try, the wife of the wealthy and powerful Lcofric, that on 
 her death-bed she ** bequeathed a precious circlet of 
 gems, which she wore round her neck, valued at one 
 hundred marks of silver (about two thousand pounds 
 sterling) to the Image of the Virgin in Coventry Abbey, 
 
 • "PhlllipF/ Account of Old Sarum." 
 
 %t 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 225 
 
 14 
 
 r 
 
 
 prayinp^ that all wlio came tliitlicr would say as many 
 prayers as there were j^eins in it."' 
 
 Ihe loUowing is an aneient verse, occurrintj^ in an old 
 Freneh treatise, on tiie manner of behaving at tabl.', 
 wlierein one is warned never to arise from a meal witli- 
 out praying for the dead. This treatise was translated 
 by William Caxton. 
 
 " Prlcz Dicu pour Ics trcpasscs, 
 Et to souvcigne en pitic 
 ^)iii dc cc mondc sont passcz, 
 Ainsi que lu fs olili^cz, 
 I'lic/ Uicu pour Ics trcpasscs ! " 
 
 [Wc subjoin a rough translation of the verse. 
 
 To God, for the departed, pray 
 
 And of those in pity think 
 "Who have passed from this world away, 
 As, indeed, thou art bound to do, 
 
 To God, for the departed pray. J 
 
 Speaking of his early education, Caxton says : 
 " Whereof I humbly and heartily thank God, and am 
 boundcn to pray for my father and mother's souls, who in 
 my youth set me to school."^ 
 
 In 1067, William the Conqueror founded what was 
 known as Battle Abbey, which he gave to the Benedictine 
 Monks, that they might pray for the souls of those who 
 fell in the Battle of Hastings. Speaking of William the 
 Conqueror, it is not out of place to quote here these lines 
 from the pen of Mrs. Hemans : 
 
 " Lowly upon his bier 
 
 The royal Conqueror lay. 
 Baron and chief stood near, 
 Silent in war's array. 
 
 ' Saxon Chronicle, Strickland's " Queens of England Before the Con 
 quest, etc." 
 
 *" Christian Schools and Scholars." 
 
 ■I 
 i ■ 
 
 w 
 
 ■i. 
 
 !l 
 
 i 
 
 * t; 
 
^gjsasBA 
 
 226 PURGATORY. 
 
 Down the long minster's aisle 
 
 Crowds mutely gazing stream'd, 
 Altar and tomb the while 
 
 Through mists of incense gleamed. 
 
 The)' lowered him with the sound 
 Of requiems to repose." 
 
 These stanzas on the Burial of William the Conqueror 
 lead us naturally to others from the pen of the same 
 gifted authoress on " Coeur de Lion at the Bier of his 
 Father." 
 
 " Torches were blazing clear, 
 
 Hymns pealing deep and slow, 
 Where a king lay stately on his bier, 
 In the Church of Fontevraud. 
 
 The marble floor was swept 
 
 By many a long dark stole 
 As the kneeling priests, round him that slept, 
 
 Sang mass for the parted soul. 
 And solemn were the strains tiiey pour'd 
 
 Through the stillness of the night, 
 With the cross above, and the crown and sword. 
 
 And the silent king in sight." 
 
 We forgive the ignorance of the gentle poetess with 
 regard to the Mass, for the beauty and solemnity of the 
 verse, which is quite in keeping with the nature of the 
 subject. 
 
 We read, again, of tapers being lit at the tomb of 
 Henry V., the noble and chivalrous Henry of Monmouth, 
 for one hundred years after his death. The Reformation 
 extinguished that gentle flame with many another holy 
 lire, both in England and throughout Christendom. 
 
 We shall now pass on to another period — a far different 
 and most troublous one of English history, that of the 
 Reformation. 
 
 In the Church of St. Lawrence at Iswich is an entry of 
 an offering made to " pray for the souls of Robert Wol- 
 sey and his wife Joan, the father and mother of the Dean 
 of Lincoln," thereafter to be Cardinal and Chancellor of 
 
 W 
 
 \ 
 
^9 
 
 1 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 227 
 
 the Kingdom. An argument urged to show the Protest- 
 antism of Collet, one of the ante-Reformation worthies, is 
 that he "did not make a Popish will, having left no mon- 
 ies for Masses for his soul ; which shows that he did not 
 believe in Purgatory." The dying prayer of Sir Thomas 
 More concludes with these words : " Give me a longing 
 to be with Thee ; not for avoiding the calamities of this 
 wicked world, nor so much the pains of Purgatory or of 
 hell ; nor so much for the attaining of the choice of 
 heaven, in respect of mine own commodity, as even for 
 a very love of Thee." The unfortunate Anne Boleyn, 
 who during her imprisonment had repented and received 
 the last sacraments from the hands of Father Thirlwall, 
 begs on the scaffold that the people may pray for her. 
 In her address to her ladies before leaving the Tower, she 
 concludes it by begging them to forget her not after 
 death. " In your prayers to the Lord Jesus forget not to 
 pray for my soul." In the account of the death of an- 
 other of King Henry's wives, the Lady Jane Seymour, 
 who died, as Miss Strickland says, after having all the 
 rites of the Catholic Church administered to her, we read 
 that Sir Richard Gresham thus writes to Lord Crom- 
 well : 
 
 ** I have caused twelve hundred Masses to be offered 
 up for the soul of our most gracious Queen. ... I 
 think it right that there should also be a solemn dirge and 
 high Mass, and that the mayor and aldermen should pray 
 and offer up divers prayers for Her Grace's soul." 
 
 Anne of Cleves some two years before her death like- 
 wise embraced the Catholic faith. At her funeral Mass 
 was sung by Bonner, Bishop of London, and many monks 
 and seculars attended her obsequies. The infamous 
 Thomas Cromwell, converted, as it seems evident from 
 contemporary witnesses, on his death-bed, left what 
 might be called truly a " Popish will." After bequeathing 
 money or effects to various relatives and friends, he 
 speaks of charity " works for the health of my soul." " I 
 will," he says, ** that my executors shall sell said farm 
 
 , •!■■ 
 
 I 
 
 <i] 
 
 t I 
 
 M 
 
 i:i 
 
fsm 
 
 m 
 
 228 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 (Carberry), and the money thereof to be employed in 
 deeds of charity, to prayer for my soul and all Christian 
 souls." Item. " I will mine executors shall conduct and 
 hire a priest, being an honest person of continent and 
 good living, to sing (pray) for my soul for the space of 
 seven years next after my death." Item. " I give and be- 
 queath to every one of the five orders of Friars within the 
 Citie of London, to pray for my soul, twenty shillings. 
 
 . . ." He further bequeaths £20 to be distributed 
 amongst " poor householders, to pray for his soul." 
 
 In this he closely resembled his royal master, Henry 
 VIII., who ordained that Masses should be said *' for his 
 soul's health while the world shall endure." And after 
 his death it was agreed that the obsequies should be con- 
 ducted according to the observance of the Catholic 
 Church. Church-bells tolled and Masses were celebrated 
 daily throughout London. In the Privy Chamber, where 
 the corpse was laid, " lights and Divine service were said 
 about him, with Masses, obsequies, etc." After the body 
 was removed to the chapel it was kept there twelve days, 
 with ''Masses and dirges sung and said everyday." Nor- 
 roy, king at arms, stood each day at the choir door, say- 
 ing: "Of your charity pray for the soul of the high and 
 mighty prince, our late sovereign lord and king, Henry 
 VIII." When the body was lowered into the grave we 
 read of a Ve Profiuidis being read over it. God grant it 
 was not all a solemn mockery, this praying for the soul of 
 him who was styled " the first Protestant King of Eng- 
 land," and who by his crimes separated England from 
 the unity of Christendom ! May these " Popish prac- 
 tices," which were amongst those he in his ordinances 
 condemned, have availed him in that life beyond the 
 grave, whither he went to give an account of his steward- 
 ship ! 
 
 The Catholic Queen, Mary, after her accession to the 
 throne, caused a requiem Mass to be sung in Tower 
 Chapel for her brother, Edward the Sixth. Elizabeth, 
 in her turn, had Mary buried with funeral hymn and 
 
 J 
 
 H 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 229 
 
 Mass, and caused a solemn dirge and Mass of Requiem 
 to be chanted for the soul of the Emperor Charles V. 
 
 With this period of spiritual anarchy and desolation 
 we shall take our leave of England, passing on to pause 
 for an instant to observe the peculiar cultus of the dead in 
 Corsica. It is represented by some writers as being sim- 
 ilar to that which prevailed amongst the Romans. But 
 as a traveller remarks, " it is a curious relic of paganism, 
 combined with Christian usages." Thus the dirge sung 
 by women, their wild lamenting, their impassioned apos- 
 trophizing of the dead, tneir rhetorical declamation of 
 his virtues, finds its analogy among many of the customs 
 of pagan nations, while the prayer for the dead, " the rel- 
 atives standing about the bed of death reciting the 
 Rosary," the Confraternity of the Brothers of the Dead 
 coming to convey the corpse to the church, where Mass 
 is sung and the final absolution given, is eminently Chris- 
 tian and Catholic. In the Norwegian annals we read how 
 Olaf the Saint, on the occasion of one of his battles, 
 gave many marks of silver for the souls of his enemies 
 who should fall in battle. 
 
 A traveller in Mexico relates the following : " I remem- 
 ber to have seen," he says, " on the high altar of the dis- 
 mantled church of Yanhuitlan a skull as polished as 
 ivory, which bore on the forehead the following inscrip- 
 tion in Spanish : 
 
 lo soy 
 Jesus Pedro Sandoval ; 
 un Ave Maria y un Padre Nuestro, 
 por Dios, hermanos ! ' 
 
 " I am Jesus Pedro Sandoval ; a Hail !Mary and an Our Father for the 
 love of God, my brother." 
 
 " I cannot conceive," he continues, " anything more 
 heart-rending than the great silent orbs of this dead man 
 staring me fixedly in the face, whilst his head, bared by 
 contact with the grave, sadly implored my prayers."" 
 
 ' Ferdinand Gregorovius, " Wanderings in Corsica," translated by Alex- 
 ander Muir. 
 
 * " Deux Ans au Mcxiquc," Fauchcr de St. Maurice. 
 
 1^^ 
 
 
 ^m 
 
 ^^ 
 
 \ \ 
 
 i 
 
 Ml 
 
 ^> 
 
 
■-■^^.■M,^^:,,.: ,->.^.,:r 
 
 .~f.?^,' tef^. 
 
 .M..^« «.:..,■,■.>.■. ■,.:^^.^ ■■«l.«^->-.*»«MMa 
 
 HHHBfl 
 
 230 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 It would be impossible to conclude our o//a podrida, if 
 1 may venture on the expression, of historical lore, re- 
 lating to the dead, without referring, however briefly, to 
 the two great deaths, and consequently the magnificent 
 obsequies which have marked this very year of 1885, in 
 which we write. Those of Archbishop Bourget, of Mont- 
 real, and of His Eminence, Cardinal McCloskcy, of New 
 York. They were both expressions of national sorrow, 
 and the homage paid by sorrowing multitudes to true 
 greatness. On the loth of June, 1885, the venerable 
 Archbishop Bourget died at Sault-au-Recollet, and was 
 brought on the following morning to the Church of 
 Notre Dame, Montreal. The days that ensued were all 
 days of Requiem. Psalms were sung, and the office of 
 the dead chanted by priests of all the religious orders in 
 succession, b}'^ the various choirs of the city, by the secu- 
 lar clergy, and by lay societies. Archbishops and bish- 
 ops sang high Mass with all the pomp of oar holy ritual, 
 and the prayers of the poor for him who had been their 
 benefactor, mingled with those of the highest in the land, 
 and followed the beloved remains from the bed of death 
 whence they were taken down into the funeral vault. On 
 the loth of October, 1S85, His Eminence the Cardinal 
 Archbishop of New York passed peacefully away, amidst 
 the grief of the whole community, both Protestant and 
 Catholic. Again, there was a very ovation of prayer. 
 The obsequies were marked by a splendor such as, ac- 
 cording to a contemporary journal, had never before 
 attended any ecclesiastical demonstration on this side of 
 the water. The clergy, secular and religious, formed one 
 vast assemblage, while layman vied with layman in show- 
 ing honor to the dead, and in praying for the soul's 
 repose. " All that man could do," says a prominent 
 Catholic journal, "to bring honor to his bier was done, 
 and in honor and remembrance his memory remains. All 
 that Mother Church could offer as suffrage for his soul 
 has been offered." 
 That is wherein the real beauty of it all consists. Honor 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 :3i 
 
 •n 
 
 to the great dead may, it is true, be the splendid expres- 
 sion of national sentiment. But in the eyes of faith it is 
 meaningless. Other great men, deservedly honored by 
 the nations, have passed away during this same year, but 
 where was the prayer, accompanying them to the judg- 
 ment-seat, assisting them in that other life, repairing their 
 faults, purging away sins or imperfections? The gran- 
 deur that attended Mgr. Bourget's burial and Cardinal 
 ISIcCloskey's obsequies consisted chiefly in that vast sym- 
 phony of prayer, which arose so harmoniously, and 
 during so many days, for their soul's welfare. 
 
 Devotion to the dead, as we have seen, exists every- 
 where, is everywhere dear to the hearts of the people, 
 from those first early worshippers, who, in the dawn of 
 Christianity, in the dimness of the Catacombs prayed for 
 the souls of their brethren in Christ, begging that they 
 might "live in God," that God might refresh them, 
 down through the ages to our own day, increasing as it 
 goes in fervor and intensity. Wc meet with its records, 
 written boldly, so to say, on the brow of nations, or in 
 cut-of-the-way corners, down among the people, in the 
 littleness and obscurity of humble domestic annals. In 
 the earliest liturgies, in the most ancient sacramentaries, 
 there is the prayer for " refreshmci:it, light, and peace," as 
 it is now found in the missals used at the daily sacrifice, 
 on the lips of the priest, in the prayers of the humblest 
 and most unlettered petitioner. It is the " low murmur 
 of the vale," changing, indeed, at times into the thunder 
 on the mountain tops, amazing the unbelieving world 
 which stands aloof and stares, as in the instances but 
 lately quoted, or existing forgotten, and overlooked by 
 them, but no less deep and solemn. It is a Requiem 
 ALternam pervading all time, and ceasing only with time 
 itself, when the Eternity of rest for the Church Militant 
 has begun. 
 
 I »i 
 
 .€ 
 
 
 mor 
 
 h 
 
232 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 PRAYER FOR THE DEAD IN THE ANGLO-SAXON CHURCH. 
 
 UR. LINGAUD. 
 
 I 
 
 The Anglo-Saxons had inherited from their teachers 
 the practice of prayer for the dead — a practice common 
 to every Christian Church which dates its origin from 
 any period before the Reformation. It was not that they 
 pretended to benefit by their prayers the blessed in 
 heaven, or the reprobate in hell ; but they had never 
 heard of the doctrine which teaches that " every soul ot 
 man, passing out of the body, gocth immediately to one or 
 other of those places " (Book of Homilies. Hom. VII. On 
 Prayer). And therefore assuming that God will render 
 to all according to their works, they believed that the 
 souls of men dying in a state of less perfect virtue, though 
 they might not be immediately admitted to the supreme 
 felicity of the saints, would not, at least, be visited with 
 the everlasting punishment of the wicked.^ It was for 
 such as these that they prayed, that if they were in a 
 state of imperfect happiness, that happiness might be 
 augmented ; if in a state of temporary punishment, the 
 severity of that punishment might be mitigated ; and this 
 they hoped to obtain from the mercy of God, in consid- 
 eration of their prayers, fasts, and alms, and especially of 
 the " oblation of the most Holy Victim in the Sacrifice of 
 the Mass." 
 
 This was a favorite form of devotion with our ances- 
 tors. It came to them recommended by the practice ot 
 all antiquity ; it was considered an act of the purest char- 
 
 * "Some souls proceed to rest alter their departure; some go to punish- 
 ment for that which they have done, and arc often released by alms-deeds, 
 but chiefly through the Mass, if it be offered for them ; others are con- 
 demned to hell with tlie devil." (Scrm. ad. Pop. in Oct. Pent.) "There 
 be many places of punishment, in which souls suffer in proportion to their 
 guilt before the general judgment, so that some of them are fully cleansed, 
 and have nothing to suffer in that fire of the last day." (Horn. apud. Whe- 
 lock, p. 386.) 
 
 ^ 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 233 
 
 -J • 
 
 J 
 
 J 
 
 ity on behalf of those who could no longer pray for them- 
 selves ; it enlisted in its favor the feelings of the survivor, 
 who was thus enabled to intercede with God for his 
 nearest and dearest friends, and it opened at the same 
 time to the mourner a source of real consolation in the 
 hour of bereavement and distress. It is true, indeed, 
 that the petitioners knew not the state of the departed 
 soul ; he might be incapable of receiving any benefit from 
 their prayers, but they reasoned, with St. Augustine, 
 that, even so, the piety of their intentions would prove 
 acceptable to God. When Alcuin heard that Edilthryde, 
 a noble Saxon lady, lamented most bitterly the death of 
 her son, he wrote to her from his retreat at Tours, in the 
 following terms : — " Mourn not for him whom you cannot 
 recall. If he be of God, instead of grieving that you 
 have lost him, rejoice that he is gone to rest before you. 
 Where there are two friends, I hold the death of the first 
 preferable to that of the second, because the first leaves 
 behind him one whose brotherly love will intercede for 
 him daily, and whose tears will wash away the frailties 
 of his life in this world. Be assured that )'our pious 
 solicitude for the soul of your son will not be thrown 
 away. It will benefit both you and him — you, because 
 you exercise acts of hope and charity ; him, because such 
 acts will tend either to mitigate his sufferings, or to add 
 to his happiness." ^ 
 
 But they did not only pray for others, they were care- 
 ful to secure for themselves, after their departure, the 
 prayers of their friends. This they frequently solicited 
 as a favor or recompense, and for this they entered into 
 mutual compacts by which the survivor was bound to 
 perform certain works of piety or charity for the soul of 
 the deceased. Thus Beda begs of the monks of Lindis- 
 farnc that, at his death, they will offer prayers and INIasses 
 for him as one of their own body ; thus Alcuin calls upon 
 his former scholars at York to remember him in their 
 prayers when it shall please God to withdraw him from 
 
 ' Ep. Cli, Tom. I., p. 
 
 r I; •' 
 
 « •' 'I 
 
 •'■ 
 
 ..! 
 
 21: 
 
f^ 
 
 ^'-^-mi^^mmie^^S^ 
 
 234 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 this world ; and thus in the multifarious correspondence 
 of St. Boniface, the apostle of Germany, and of Lullus, 
 his successor in the See of Mentz, both of them Anirlo- 
 Saxons, with their countrymen, prelates, abbots, thanes, 
 and princes, we meet with letters the only object of which 
 is to renew their previous engagements, and to transmit 
 the names of their defunct associates. Ic is "our earnest 
 wish," say the King of Kent and the Bishop of Rochester 
 in their common letter to Lullus, " to recommend our- 
 selves and our dearest relatives to your piety, that by 
 your prayers we may be protected till we come to that 
 life which knows no end. For what have we to do on 
 earth but faithfully to exercise charity towards each 
 other? Let us then agree, that when any among us 
 enter the path which leads to another life (may it be a 
 life of happiness), the survivors shall, by their alms and 
 sacrifices, endeavor to assist him in his journey. We 
 have sent you the names of our deceased relations, Irm- 
 ige, Vorththry, and Dulicha, virgins dedicated to God, 
 and beg that you will remember them in your prayers 
 and oblations. On a similar occasion we will prove our 
 gratitude by imitating your charity." 
 
 Such covenants were not confined to the clergy, or to 
 persons in the higher ranks of life. England, at this 
 period, was covered with " gilds," or associations of 
 townsmen and neighbors, not directly for religious pur- 
 poses, but having a variety of secular objects in view, — 
 such as the promotion of trade and commerce, the pres- 
 ervation of property and the prosecution of thieves, the 
 legal defence of the members against oppression, and the 
 recovery of bots, or penalties, to which they were entitled ; 
 but whatever might be their chief object, all imposed one 
 common obligation, that of accompanying the bodies of 
 the deceased members to the grave, of paying the soul-shot 
 for them at their interment, and of distributing alms for 
 the repose of their souls. As a specimen of such engage- 
 ments, I may here translate a portion of the laws estab- 
 lished in the gild at Abbotsbury. " If," says the legisla- 
 
 \ 
 
or to 
 
 this 
 
 ms of 
 
 stab- 
 risla- 
 
 i 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 235 
 
 tor, " any one belonging to this association chance to 
 die, each member shall pay one penny for the good of 
 the soul, before the body be laid in the grave. If he 
 neglect, he shall be fined in a triple sum. If any of us fall 
 sick within sixty miles, we engage to find fifteen men, 
 who may bring him home; but if he die first, we will 
 send thirty to convey him to the place in which he de- 
 sired to be buried. If he die in the neighborhood, the 
 steward shall inquire where he is to be interred, and shall 
 summon as many members as he can to assemble, attend 
 the corpse in an honorable manner, carry it to the min- 
 ster, and pray devoutly for the soul. Let us act in this 
 manner, and we shall truly perform the duty of our con- 
 fraternity. This will be honorable to us both before God 
 and man. For we knov/ not who among us may die 
 first ; but we believe that, with the assistance of God, 
 this agreement will profit us all if it be rightly observed." 
 But the clerical and monastic bodies inhabiting the 
 more celebrated monasteries offered guildships of a supe- 
 rior description. Among them the service for the dead 
 was performed with greater solemnity ; the rules of the 
 institute insured the faithful performance of the duty ; 
 and additional value was ascribed to their prayers on ac- 
 count of the sanctity of the place and the virtue of its 
 inmates. Hence it became an object with many to 
 obtain admission among the brotherhood in quality of 
 honorary associates ; an admission which gave them the 
 right to the same spiritual benefits after death to which 
 the professed members were entitled. Such associates 
 were of two classes. To some the favor was conceded 
 on account of their reputation for piety or learning ; to 
 others it was due on account of their benefactions. In- 
 stances of both abound in the Ani?clo-Saxon records. 
 Beda, though a monk at Jarrow, procured his name to 
 be entered for this purpose on the bead-roll of the monks 
 at Lindisfarne ; and Alcuin, though a canon at Tours, 
 in France, had obtained a similar favor from the monks 
 at Jarrow. It belonged, of right, to the founders of 
 
 i 
 
 ^i 
 
 If 
 
 
 I 
 
 4 K 
 
 
 li 
 
 
 I 
 
sai£5i'«lii..tdlIK^". JtMalt4-< 
 
 236 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 churches, to those who liad made to them valuable bencfac- 
 ti(^ns/ or had rendered to them important services, or had 
 becjueathed to them a yearly rent charge ' for that purpose. 
 Of all these individuals an exact catalogue was kept; 
 the days of their decease-' were carefully noted, and on 
 their anniversaries a solemn service of Masses and psalm- 
 ody was yearly performed/' It may be easily conceived 
 that to men of timorous and penitent minds this custom 
 would afford much consolation. However great might 
 be their deficiencies, yet they hoped that their good 
 works would survive them ; they had provided for the 
 service of the Almighty a race of men, whose virtues 
 they might in one respect call their own, and who were 
 bound, by the strongest ties, to be their daily advocate at 
 the throne of divine mercy.' Such were the sentiments 
 
 ' When Osulf, caldorman, by the p;rncc of God, gave the land at Stan- 
 hamstcdo to Christ Church, lie most humbly prayed that ho and his wife, 
 Beornihrytho, might be admitted " into the fellowship of God's servants 
 there, and of their lords who had been, and of those who had given lands 
 to the Churcii." — Cod. Dipl. I. 292. The following is an instance of a 
 rent cliarge given by Ealburge and Eadwald to Christ Church for them- 
 selves, and fur Ealred and Ealwyne forty anibres of malt, two hundred 
 loaves, one wcy, S:c., 8zc. ; "and I, Ealburge," she adds, "command my 
 son Ealwyne, in the name of God, and of all the saints, that he perform this 
 duty in his day, and then command his heirs to perform it as long as 
 Christendom shall endure." 
 
 ^ I Monast, Ang. i. 278. A similar regulation is found among the laws 
 of the gild in London. "And ye have ordained respecting every man who 
 has given his 'wed' in our gildships, if he should die, that each* gild 
 brother shall give a 'genuine loaf for his soul, and sing a ditty, or get it 
 sung, within thirty days." — Thorpe's Laws of London Gilds, 
 
 ^According to Wanly there is in the Cotton Library (Dom. A. 7) of the 
 reign ol Athelstan, in which the names of the chief benefactors of the Church 
 of Lindisfarne are written in letters of gold and silver, which catalogue was 
 afterwards continued, but not in the same manner (Wanly, 249). This is 
 probably the same book which was published in 1841 by the Surtees Society, 
 under the name of Liber Vita Ecclcsia Dttnelinensis. It contains the names 
 of all the benefactors of St. Cuthbert's Church from its foundation, and lay 
 constantlv on 'lie altar for upwards of six centuries. 
 
 ^ Thus when Lcofric e-tablished canons in the Ciuirch of Exeter, he made 
 them several valuable presents, on condition that, in their prayers and 
 Masses, they should always remember his soul, " that it might be the more 
 pleasing to God." Monas. Ang. torn i. p. 222. 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 237 
 
 F ■ -i 
 
 bcncfac- 
 3, or liad 
 purpose. 
 IS kept; 
 , and on 
 1 i)salm- 
 mccivcd 
 custom 
 t mii^lit 
 r good 
 for the 
 virtues 
 lo were 
 :>catc at 
 timents 
 
 1 at Stan- 
 
 liis wife, 
 
 i servants 
 
 ^en lands 
 
 incc of a 
 
 for thcm- 
 
 hun tired 
 
 nand my 
 
 !'orm this 
 
 long as 
 
 tlic laws 
 nan who 
 ich»gild 
 or get it 
 
 ) of the 
 Church 
 ?iie was 
 This is 
 Society, 
 names 
 and hiy 
 
 c made 
 ;rs and 
 c more 
 
 of Alwyn, the caldorman of East Anglia, and one of tlie 
 founders of Ramsey. Warned by frequent inrnmitics of 
 liis approaching^ death, he repaired, attended by his sons 
 lulwin and l-Xhehvard, to the abbey. The monies were 
 speedily assembled. " My beloved," said he, " you will 
 soon lose your friend and protector. My strciij^th is 
 gone: I am stolen from myself. IJut I am not afiaid to 
 die. When life grows tedious death is welcome. To-day 
 I shall confess before you the many errors of my life. 
 Think not that 1 wish to solicit a prolongation of my 
 existence. My recpiest is that you protect my departure 
 by your prayers, and place your merits in the balance 
 against my defects. When my soul shall have quitted 
 my body, honor your father's corpse with a decent fime- 
 ral, grant him a constant share in your prayers, and 
 recommend his memory to the charity and gratitude 
 of your successors." At the conclusion of iu3 address 
 the aged thane threw himself on the pavement before 
 the altar, and, with a voice interrupted by frequent 
 sighs, publicly confessed the sins of his past years, and 
 earnestly implored the mercies of his Redeemer. . . . 
 He exhorted the brethren to a punctual observance of 
 their rule, and forbade his sons, under their father's male- 
 diction, to molest them in possession of the lands which 
 he had bestowed on the abbey. . . . Within a few 
 \veeks he died, his body was interred with proper solem- 
 nity in the Church ; and his memory was long cherished 
 with gratitude by the monks of Ramsey.^ 
 
 There were three kinds of good works usually per- 
 formed for the benefit of the dead : One consisted in the 
 distribution of charity. To the money, which the de- 
 ceased, if he were in opulent or in easy circumstances, 
 bequeathed for that purpose, an addition was often made 
 by the contributions of his relatives and friends. Large 
 sums were often distributed in this manner. King Alfred 
 the Great says in his w^ill: "Let there be given for me, 
 and for my father, and for the friends that he prayed for, 
 
 * Hist. Rames, p. 427. 
 
 ».! 
 
 ■ 
 
 •■ I .;, 
 
238 
 
 rUUGATOKY. 
 
 and that I pray for, two hundred pounds ; fifty amon^^ the 
 Mass-priests tliroui^liout my kin<^(l()m ; fifty anion<^ the 
 servants of God that are in need, fifty amonj^ lay paupers, 
 and fifty to the church in which my body shall rest."' 
 Archbisho[) Wulfred in his will, (an. 831) made provision 
 for the permanent support and clothinj^ of twenty-seven 
 paupers, out of the income from certain manors which, at 
 his own cost and labor, he had recovered for tlie Church 
 of Canterbury. Frequently the testator bequeathed a 
 yearly dole of money and provisions to the poor on the 
 anniversary of his death. Thus the cler«^y of Christ- 
 church f^ave away one hundred and twenty suffles, or 
 cakes of fine flour, on the anniversaries of each of their 
 lords, by which word we arc probably to understand 
 archbishops; but Wulfred \vas not content with his ac- 
 customed charity ; he aui^mcnted it tenfold on his own 
 anniversary, havin<2^ bequeathed a loaf, a certain quantity 
 of cheese, and a silver penny to be delivered to twelve 
 hundred poor persons on that day. Of such dole some 
 vestij^es still remain in certain parts of the kinj^dom. 
 
 Another species of charity, at the death of the upper 
 ranks, was the grant of freedom to a certain number of 
 slaves, whose poverty, to render the gift more valuable, 
 was relieved with a handsome present. In the Council 
 of Calcuith, it was unanimously agreed that each prelate 
 at his death should bequeath the tenth part of his personal 
 property to the poor, and set at liberty all bondmen of 
 English descent, whom the Church had acquired during 
 his administration ; and that each bishop and abbot who 
 survived him, should manumit three of his slaves, and 
 give three shillings to each, for the benefit of the soul of 
 the deceased prelate. 
 
 The devotions in behalf of the dead consisted in the 
 frequent repetition of the Lord's Prayer, technically 
 called a belt of Paternosters, which was in use with pri- 
 vate individuals, ignorant of the Latin tongue ; 2d, in the 
 chanting of a certain number of psalms, generally fifty, 
 
 ' Cod. Diplom § i, 115. 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 239 
 
 tcrminatinpf with tlic collect for the dead, dm inp^ which 
 collect all knelt down, and then repeated the anthem in 
 Latin or luij^lish: " Accord injjf to Thy ^reat mercy ^ivc 
 rest to his sonl, () Lord, and of Thine intinitc hounty 
 grant to him eternal light in the company of the saints;"' 
 3d, in the sacrifice of the Mass, which was ofU'red as 
 soon as might be after death, again on the third day, and 
 afterwards as often as was required by the solicitude of 
 the relatives or friends of the deceased. No sooner had 
 St. Wilfred expired than Talbert, to whom he had in- 
 trusted the government of his monasterv at Kijx)!!, or- 
 dered a Mass to be celebrated, and alms to be distributed 
 daily for his soul. On his anniversary the abbots of all 
 the monasteries founded by Wilfred were summoned to 
 attend ; they spent the preceding night in watching and 
 prayer, on the following morning a solemn Mass was })er- 
 formcd, and then the tenth part of the cattle belonging 
 to the monastery was distributed among the neighbor- 
 ing poor. 
 
 In like manner we find the caldorman Osulf, "for the 
 redemption and health of his own soul, and of his wile, 
 Beornthrythe," giving certain lands to the Church of 
 Liming, in Kent, under the express condition that " every 
 twelve months afterwards, the day of their departure out 
 of this life should be kept with fasting and prayer to 
 God, in psalmody and the celebration of Masses." 
 
 It would appear that some doubt existed with respect 
 to the exact meaning of this condition ; and a few years 
 later the archbishop, to set the question at rest, pro- 
 nounced the following decree : " Wherefore I order that 
 the godly deeds following be performed for their souls 
 at the tide of their anniversary ; that every Mass priest 
 celebrate two Masses for the soul of Osulf, and two for 
 Beornthrythe's soul ; that every deacon read two pas- 
 sions (the narratives of our Lord's sufferings in the gos- 
 pels) for his soul, and two for hers ; and each of God's 
 
 ' On the (ioatli of St. Guthladc, his sister Pega recommended his soul to 
 God, and sang psalms for that purpose during three days. 
 
 
 1' 
 
 i 
 
 I* A 
 
 \ 
 
 : 
 
240 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 servants (the inferior members of the brotherhood) two 
 fifties " (hfty psalms) " for his soul, two for hers ; that as 
 you in the world are blessed with worldly goods through 
 them, so they may be blessed with godly goods through 
 you." 
 
 It should, however, be observed, that such devotions 
 were not confined to the anniversaries of the dead. In 
 many, perhaps in all, of these religious establishments, 
 the whole community on certain da3's walked, at the con- 
 clusion of the matin service, in procession to the ceme- 
 tery, and there chanted the dirge over the graves of their 
 deceased brethren and benefactors. 
 
 Respecting these practices some most extraordinary 
 opinions have occasionally been hazarded. We have 
 been told that the custom of praying for the dead was no 
 part of the religious system originally taught to the 
 Anglo-Saxons, that it was not generally received for two 
 centuries after their conversion, and that it probably took 
 its rise " from a mistaken charity, continuing to do for the 
 departed what it was only lawful to do for the living." 
 To this supposition it may be sufficient to reply, that it 
 is supported by no reference to ancient authority, but 
 contradicted in every page of Anglo-Saxon history. 
 Others have admitted the universal prevalence of the 
 practice, but have discovered that it originated in the in- 
 terested views of the clergy, who employed it as a con- 
 stant source of emolument, and laughed among them- 
 selves at the easy faith of their disciples. But this 
 opinion is subject to equal difficulties with the former. 
 It rests on no ancient testimony : it is refuted by the 
 conduct of the ancient clergy. No instance is to be 
 found of any one of these conspirators as they are repre- 
 sented, who in an unguarded moment, or of any fulse 
 lirothcr who, in the peevishness of discontent, revealed 
 the secret to the ears of their dupes. On the contrary, 
 wc see them in their private correspondence holding to 
 each other the same language which they held to their 
 disciples; requesting from each other those prayers 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 241 
 
 which we are told that they mutually despised, and 
 making pecuniary sacrifices during life to purchase what, 
 if their accusers be correct, they deemed an illusory as- 
 sistence after death. 
 
 A SINGULAR FRENCH CUSTOM. 
 
 Vernon is perhaps the only town in France wherein 
 the ancient custom of which we are about to speak still 
 exists. When a death occurs, an individual, robed in a 
 mortuary tunic, adorned with cross-bones and tear-drops, 
 goes through the streets with a small bell in either hand, 
 the sound of which is sharp and penetrating ; at every 
 place where the streets cross each other, he rings his bells 
 three times, crying out in a doleful voice : " Such-a-one, 
 belonging to the Confraternity of St. Roch, or the Con- 
 fraternity of St. Sebastian, ^c, &c., is recommended to 
 your prayers. He is dead. The funeral will take place 
 at such-an-hour." Then he rings again three times. The 
 first Sunday of each month arrives. Then, at the dawn 
 of day the same individual goes again through the town, 
 ringing continuously, knocking thrice at the door of each 
 member of the confraternity, and stopping at the corners 
 of the streets, he sings : " Good people," or " good souls, 
 who sleep, awake! awake! pray for the dead! &c." — 
 Voix de la Vcritc^ July 22, 1846. 
 
 u 
 
 5-; 
 
 i^ 
 
 ! 
 
 , 
 
 
 iiMMiitiiiiiiiHBati 
 
242 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 DEVOTION TO THE HOLY SOULS AMONGST THE EARLY 
 
 ENGLISH. 
 
 ANNA T. SADLIER. 
 
 An English writer, the gifted author of the Knights of 
 St. John, makes the following assertion as regards the 
 people of her own nationality : " Our Catholic ancestors," 
 she says, " are said to have been distinguished above all 
 other nations for their devotion towards the dead ; and 
 it harmonizes with one feature in our national character, 
 namely, that gravity and attraction to things of solemn 
 and pathetic interest which, uncontrolled by the inlluence 
 of faith, degenerates even into melancholy." In view of 
 this assertion, it will be interesting to spend a few mo- 
 ments in gathering up the links of this most ancient and 
 most touching devotion, amongst a people who have col- 
 lectively, as it were, fallen away fn^m grace. It is there- 
 fore our purpose to lo(jk backwards into that solemn and 
 beautiful past of which heretical England can boast, and 
 behold her, as Carlyle beheld her in his " Past and Pres- 
 ent," offering to the world the sublime spectacle of a 
 })eople devout and faithful, undisturbed by doubt, tran- 
 quilizcd by the harmonious influence of religion, and un- 
 harasscd by the spirit of so called philosophic inquiry, 
 which, misdirected, is the true bane of English society at 
 the present day. 
 
 This retrospection, as we shall have occasion later on 
 to recur to the subject of devotion to the dead in Eng- 
 land, must neccssaril}'^ be both brief and cursory. But 
 even the merest outlines are of interest, for they prove 
 that prayer f(jr the departed was no less the favorite de- 
 votion of the learned than of the simple, and that it had 
 its home in those ancient seats of learning, Oxford and 
 Cambridge and their dcj^endcncies, from the very hour 
 of their foundation. Of the Founder of Oxford, it is said, 
 
 H. 
 
 t 
 
 \ 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 243 
 
 E EARLY 
 
 nights of 
 ards the 
 iccstors," 
 above all 
 ead ; and 
 :haracter, 
 )t solemn 
 influence 
 n view of 
 L few mo- 
 Luent and 
 have col- 
 t is there- 
 Icmn and 
 >oast, and 
 md Pres- 
 aclc of a 
 ibt, tran- 
 , and un- 
 : inquiry, 
 ;ociety at 
 
 later on 
 1 in Eng- 
 ry. But 
 ey prove 
 orite de- 
 it it had 
 ford and 
 ery hour 
 it is said, 
 
 ( 
 
 that prayer for the dead was one of his devotions of pre- 
 dilection. It is not necessary here for us to follow him, 
 the great and good William of Wykeham, Bishop of Win- 
 chester, and subsequently Lord Chancellor of England, 
 in the gradual unfoldings of that project of founding a 
 University, so dear to him from almost the moment of his 
 elevation to the episcopate. Suffice that in the March of 
 1379, he laid the corner-stone of " St. Marie's College of 
 Winchester, Oxenford." It is with his great charity to- 
 wards the Holy Souls that we are at present concerned, 
 and of this wc have ample proof in the testimonies of his 
 biographers. Here is one of them, in the paragraph 
 which follows : 
 
 " There was another devotion which was most dearly 
 cherished by Wykeham, and which is an equal indication 
 of the singular spirituality of his mind, — wc mean, that 
 for the sutL-ring souls in Purgatory. It may be safely 
 affirmed, that this devotion, so unselfish and unearthly in 
 its tendencies, carrying us beyond the grave, and making 
 us familiar with the secrets of the unseen world, could 
 never find a place in the heart of one who was engrossed 
 by secular cares, or the love of money. Its existence in 
 any marked and special degree argues in the soul of its 
 possessor a profound sense of sin, a deep compassion for 
 the sufferings of others, and a habit of dwelling on the 
 thoughts of death, judgment, and eternity. Moreover, it 
 is utterly opposed to anything of that mercenary or com- 
 mercial spirit which exists among men of the world, who 
 like to see some large practical result even in matters of 
 devotion. We pray, and are sensible of no return ; we 
 spend our money in a Requiem Mass, and there is nothing 
 but trust in God's word, and God's fidelity, to assure us 
 that the money is not thrown away. Every Dc Profundis 
 that we say is as much an act of faith as it is an act of 
 charity ; and it has its reward. We do not speak merely 
 of the benefit reaped by the souls of the faithful departed ; 
 but who can measure the effect of this devotion on a 
 man's own soul, bringing him (as it docs) into communion 
 
244 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 i 1 
 
 with the world of spirits, and realizing to him the worth 
 of Christian suffering, and the awful purity of God ? " . . . 
 
 Wykeham's heart was full of compassion for suffering-, 
 and thn dead shared his charity with the living. Never 
 did he offer the Holy Sacrifice for the departed without 
 abundant tears. His reverence for the Holy Mysteries, 
 and the singular devotion with which he celebrated, are 
 often referred to by those who have written his life ; one 
 of whom, after speaking of his various charities, thus con- 
 tinues : *' Not only did he, as we have said, offer his 
 goods, but also his very self, as a lively sacrifice to God, 
 and hence, in the solemn celebration of Mass, and chiefly 
 at that part where there is made a special memorial of the 
 living and the dead, he was wont to shed many tears out 
 of the humility of his heart, reputing himself unworthy, as 
 he was wont to express it in speaking to his secretary, to 
 perform such an office, or to handle the most sublime 
 mysteries of the Church." 
 
 From the same biographer we add to the foregoing a 
 further testimony as to what a hold this devotion of pre- 
 dilection had taken upon the soul of the Founder of Ox- 
 ford : 
 
 " Among his charities we accordingly find a great many 
 which were solely directed to the relief of the suffering 
 souls. Wykeham's benevolence had in it one admirable 
 feature : it was not left to be carried out after his death 
 by his executors, but all his great acts of munificence were 
 performed in his own lifetime. One of his first cares, after 
 his accession to the See of Winchester, was to found a 
 chantr}'- in the Priory of South wykc, near Wykeham, for 
 the repose of the souls of his father and mother and sister, 
 who were buried within the priory church ; and in all his 
 after foundations provisions were made for the continual 
 remembrance of the dead ; and (ever grateful to his early 
 friends) King Edward HI., the Black Prince, and King 
 Richard H. were all commended to the charity of those 
 who, as they prayed for Wykeham, were charged at the 
 same time to pray for the souls of his benefactors." 
 
the worth 
 od?" . . . 
 suffering, 
 ^. Never 
 d without 
 Mysteries, 
 rated, are 
 s life ; one 
 thus con- 
 offer his 
 ;e to God, 
 nd chiefly 
 rial of the 
 tears out 
 kvorthy, as 
 retary, to 
 t sublime 
 
 regomg a 
 on of pre- 
 ier of Ox- 
 
 reat many 
 ; suffering 
 admirable 
 
 his death 
 lence were 
 ;ares, after 
 to found a 
 ceham, for 
 ind sister, 
 1 in all his 
 
 continual 
 ) his early 
 and King 
 y of those 
 ;ed at the 
 rs. 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 245 
 
 In Winchester we read, also, of the College of the Holy 
 Trinity, endowed as a ** carnarie," or charnel-house, of 
 the city. The chief duties of the priests belonging to the 
 chantry attached thereto were to bury the dead, and keep 
 up perpetual Masses for the souls of the departed. 
 
 Those Colleges of Winchester, with their simple beauty 
 and grandeur of design, with their convx^ntional rule of 
 life, the singing of Matins, and the daily chanting of the 
 divine office by chaplains and fellows, offer to us a very 
 fair picture, indeed. But we observe that in the Masses 
 sung with " note and chant," there is one specially men- 
 tioned for the souls of the founder's parents, and of all the 
 faithful departed ; a second for the souls of King Edward 
 III., Queen Philippa, the Black Prince, Richard II., Queen 
 Anne, and certain benefactors. 
 
 On the 24th of July, 1403, the saintly Wykeham made 
 his will. He directed that his body should be laid in a 
 chantry which he had himself founded, and at the altar of 
 which he was wont to offer up the Holy Sacrifice. He 
 desired that on the day of his burial, " to every poor per- 
 son coming to Winchester, and asking alms, for the love 
 of God, and for the health of his soul, there should be 
 given fourpence." Alms were likewise to be distributed 
 in every place through which his body was to pass, and 
 large provision was made for Masses and prayers for the 
 repose of his soul. He had, besides, made an agreement 
 with the monks of St. Sudthin's, by which they were to 
 offer three Masses daily for his parents and benefactors 
 in the chantry chapel ; the first of these was a Mass of 
 Our Lady, to be said very early. The boys attached to 
 the College were, moreover, to sing every night in perpe- 
 tuity, either the Salve Rcgiiia or Ave Rcgina, with a De 
 Profundis for his soul's repose. So, as the hour of his 
 death drew near, he who had concerned himself through 
 life with the souls of the departed, essayed to make pro- 
 vision for his own. Since that hour when he proceeded 
 to the high altar of Winchester Cathedral, escorted by 
 the Lord Prior of Winchester and the Abbot Hyde, to 
 
 1 
 
 !'. ; 
 
 1 1 
 
 i 
 
 •j! I V 
 
 111 
 
 I 
 
 
246 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 celebrate his first Pontifieal Mass, the same constant 
 memory of the dead had been with him, as when kneel- 
 ing he prayed aloud for the soul of his predecessor, Wil- 
 liam de Edyndon, and bade the choir chant the De Pro- 
 fundis, while he himself recited the Fidcliuni omnium con- 
 ditor. 
 
 But leaving Oxford and its pious founder, we turn our 
 gaze upon that ancient foundation of Eton, which was to 
 serve as a preparatory school for the new establishment 
 of King's College of Cambridge, which Henry had in 
 contemplation. Henry, in his famous Eton charter, 
 makes mention of his desire that this college shall be, as 
 it were, a memorial of him, and be composed of clerks, 
 "■ who," h{> says, " shall pray for our welfare whilst we 
 live, and for our soul when we shall have departed this 
 life." The Pope, Eugenius IV., afterwards granted a 
 plenary indulgence to all who should visit the College 
 Chapel of Our Lady of Eton, after Confession and Com- 
 munion. 
 
 Henry having visited the Colleges of Winchester, first 
 met there with William Wayneflete, with whom he was to 
 be united in so warm and beautiful a friendship. The 
 " Master of Winton," as Wayneflete then was, is described 
 as " simple, devout, and full of learning." But a short 
 time after he was removed to Eton, and presently raised to 
 the Provostship. Among many beautiful and pious cus- 
 toms, the memory of the dead was carefully preserved 
 among the Eton scholars, and their verses on All Souls' 
 Day were on the blessedness of those who die in the Lord. 
 But Wayneflete is, of course, chiefly identified with Mag- 
 dalen College, Oxford, said to be " the finest collegiate 
 building in England," and of which he was the founder. 
 It was, in truth, his dream, and one which he was des- 
 tined to see realized. Here is neither the place nor time 
 to dwell upon its beauties. The first stone was laid by 
 the venerable Tybarte, its first president. He was buried 
 in the middle of the inner chapel, and upon a cope, pre- 
 served among the ancient church vestments, is one upon 
 
 ^ 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 247 
 
 constant 
 len knccl- 
 5sor, Wil- 
 le De Pro- 
 iniiDu con- 
 turn our 
 h was to 
 )lishment 
 y had in 
 charter, 
 lall be, as 
 Df clerks, 
 vhilst we 
 irted this 
 ranted a 
 Colleg-e 
 nd Com- 
 
 ster, first 
 le was to 
 ip. The 
 lescribed 
 a short 
 raised to 
 ious cus- 
 reserved 
 M Souls' 
 he Lord, 
 th Mag- 
 :)llcgiate 
 founder, 
 vas des- 
 lor time 
 laid by 
 5 buried 
 pe, pre- 
 tie upon 
 
 which is worked the inscription, " Orate pro anima Magis- 
 iri Tybartcy ^ 
 
 Among the rules and regulations of this new foundation 
 was one which obliged the president, fellows, and scholars 
 to recite, while dressing, certain prayers in honor of the 
 Blessed Trinity, and a suffrage for the founder. Daily 
 prayers were offered up for the repose of the souls of the 
 founder's father and mother, "thi^sc of benefactors of the 
 college, and for all the souls of the faitiiful departed." 
 These suifrages were to be made by every one, at what- 
 ever hour (^f the day was most convenient. 
 
 There acre many foundations of Masses attached to 
 this College of Magdalen. Of these daily Masses, offered 
 at the six altars of the chapel, the early " Morrow Mass " 
 was always said in the Arundel Chapel, for tlic soul of 
 Lord Arundel, the chief benefactor of the institute. • An- 
 other Mass was to be said every day for " souls of good 
 memory," including, besides the two kings, Henry 111. 
 and Edward IIL, his dear and never forgotten friends, 
 Henry VI., Lord Cromwell, and Sir John Fastolfe, as 
 well as King Edward IV. Other Masses and prayers 
 were said for other intentions. The founder was to be 
 specially remembered every, quarter. Every day, after 
 High Mass, one of the demys was to say aloud in the 
 chapel, '■'■ Aiiima fundatoris nostri Willicluii, ct animce oin- 
 niujiL fidcliiim dcfnnctorum, per miserieordiam Dei in paec 
 requiescaty - The same prayer was to be repeated in 
 the hall after dinner and supper. 
 
 But the life of the Founder of Magdalen, the great 
 Bishop, was drawing to a close. We shall see by his 
 will how firm his faith in that most Catholic of all doc- 
 trines — Purgatory. After various bequests, he left a cer- 
 tain portion of his property for Masses and alms-deeds 
 for his own soul and the souls of his parents and friends. 
 On the day of his burial, and on the thirtieth day from 
 
 ' Pni)' for the soul of Master Tybarte. 
 
 ^ " May the soul of our founder, William, and the souls of all the faithful 
 departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace." 
 
 if t 
 
 1 I i 
 
 h 1) 
 
 i , ■/■' 
 
 ■ Si 
 
 I 
 
 'I 
 
 M 
 II 
 
 ;{| 
 
248 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 the time of his decease, and on other appointed days, his 
 executors are charged to have 5,000 Masses said in honor 
 of the Five Wounds of Christ, and the Five Joys of Mary 
 — his favorite devotions — for the same intention. His re- 
 mains were buried at Winchester, in a tomb which he 
 had prepared as a place of burial durini^ his lifetime. His 
 was, indeed, the third chantry chapel in Winchester, the 
 others being those of his predecessor. This custom was 
 common to all the great prelates of the time. They pre- 
 pared a place of sepulture during their life, and there 
 where they officiated at all solemn offices, and so fre- 
 quently celebrated requiems for the departed, they knew 
 that their remains were one day to be laid, and prayers 
 and the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass to be offered for them- 
 selves. It was thus a constant reminder of death. 
 
 A ceremony connected with Magdalen Tower seems 
 likewise to have had its origin in this pious custom of 
 remembrance of the dead. '* On the ist of May," says 
 Anthony Wood, " the choral ministers of this house do, 
 according to ancient custom, salute Flora from the top 
 of the tower, at four in the morning, with vocal music of 
 several parts." Of course, as a chronicler remarks, it 
 was not to salute Flora that any Catholic choristers thus 
 made vocal the sweet air of May. " The sweet music of 
 Magdalen Tower," remarks the author of the Knights 
 of St. John, ''had a directly religious origin. On the ist 
 of May the society was wont annually to celebrate the 
 obit or Requiem Mass of King Henry VH., who proved a 
 generous benefactor to the College, and who is still com- 
 memorated as such upon that day. The requiem was 
 not, indeed, celebrated on tJic top of the toivcr, as Mr. 
 Chalmers, in his history of the university, affirms, in 
 total ignorance that a requiem is a Mass, and that a Mass 
 must be said upon an altar; but it is probable that the 
 choral service chanted on the ist of May consisted origi- 
 nally of the De Profundis, or some other psal:-.!, for the 
 repose of Henry's soul, and as a special mark of grati- 
 tude." Some semblance of the old custom is still kept 
 
 <■■ 
 
days, his 
 
 in honor 
 5 of Mary 
 His rc- 
 vhich he 
 
 ime. His 
 ester, the 
 itom was 
 
 hey pre- 
 nd there 
 1 so fre- 
 ley knew 
 
 prayers 
 br them- 
 1. 
 
 3r seems 
 Listom of 
 ly," says 
 lOuse do, 
 
 the top 
 music of 
 narks, it 
 ters thus 
 music of 
 Knights 
 1 the 1st 
 rate the 
 Droved a 
 till com- 
 iem was 
 
 as Mr. 
 irms, in 
 
 a Mass 
 hat the 
 d origi- 
 
 for the 
 f grati- 
 ill kept 
 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 249 
 
 up, as ten pounds is still annually paid by the rectory of 
 Slimbridge, in Gloucestershire, for the i)urpose of keep- 
 ing up this ceremony." 
 
 Such are a few brief glimpses of this belief in Purga- 
 tory, which was so dear to the hearts of Englishmen, in 
 those centuries before the blight of heresy had fallen 
 upon the Island of the Saints. These hints upon the sub- 
 ject are given very much at random, and will simply 
 serve to show how prayer for the dead was a part of all 
 Christian lives in those ages of faith. It was incorporated 
 in the rules of every collegiate institute, and more espe- 
 cially those two most notable ones of Oxford and Cam- 
 bridge. It entered into every man's calculations, and 
 was provided for in every Will and Testament. Had it 
 been in our power to go backwards, into a still more re- 
 mote antiquity, it would have been our pleasant task to 
 find this belief in suffrage for the dead taking so vigorous 
 root in every heart. Do we not find the Venerable Bede, 
 "the Father of English Learning," Vs ho was born in 673 
 and died in 734, asking that his name may be enrolled 
 amongst the monks of the monastery founded by St. 
 Aidan, in order that his soul after death might have a share 
 in the Masses and prayers of that numerous community, 
 as he tells us himself in his Preface to the Life of St. 
 Cuthbert. " This pious anxiety," says Montalembert, 
 " to assure himself of the help of prayer for his soul after 
 death is apparent at every step in his letters. It imprints 
 the last seal of humble and true Christianity on the char- 
 acter of the great philosopher, whose life was so full of 
 interest, and whose last days have been revealed to us in 
 minute detail by an eye-witness." ^ 
 
 The passionate entreaties of Anselm, another of the 
 shining lights of early Anglo-Saxon days, that the soul of 
 his young disciple Osbern be remembered in prayers and 
 Masses, proves what value he attached to suffrages for 
 the departed : 
 
 " I beg of you," he writes to his friend Gondulph, *' of 
 
 ' " Monks of the West," Vol. v., p. Sq. 
 
 I I 
 
 I 
 
 III 
 
 If 
 I 
 
 i , 
 
 'f 
 
 
250 
 
 rURGATOUY. 
 
 you and of all my friends, to pray for Osbcrn. His soul 
 is my soul. All that you do for him durin<^ my life, I 
 sliall accept as if you had done it for me after my death. 
 . . . 1 conjure you ior the tliird time, remember me, 
 and forget not tlie soul of my well-l)eloved Osbern. And 
 if I ask too much of you, then forget me and remember 
 him. . . . The soul of my Osbern, ah ! I beseech 
 thee, give it no other place than in my bosom." 
 
 And do we not read of those " prayers for souls," in- 
 cessant and obligatory, wliich were identified with all the 
 monastic habits — thanks to that devotion for the dead 
 which received in a monastery its final and perpetual 
 sanction. " They were not content," says Montalembert, 
 " even with common and permanent prayer for the dead of 
 each isolated monastery. By degrees, vast spiritual asso- 
 ciations were formed among" communities of the same 
 order and the same country, with the aim of relieving by 
 their reciprocal prayers the defunct members of each 
 house. Rolls of parchment, transmitted by special mes- 
 sengers from cloister to cloister, received the names of 
 those who had ' emigrated,' according to the consecrated 
 expression, * from this terrestrial light to Christ,' and 
 served the purpose of a check and register to prevent 
 defalcation in that voluntary impost of prayer which our 
 fervent cenobitcs solicited in advance for themselves or 
 for their friends." And, of course, this was many years, 
 even centuries, before the Feast of All Souls was insti- 
 tuted by the Abbot Odilo and the monks of Cluny in 998. 
 English history, like every other history, furnishes us, 
 mdeed, with innumerable traits of this pious devotion to 
 the Holy Souls. Obviously, our space must prevent us 
 from entering more deeply into the subject. May the 
 few scattered hints we have been enabled to throw out 
 be of interest and profit to our readers ! 
 
 Oalrt V 
 
v-/^ 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 251 
 
 [lis soul 
 y life, I 
 y death, 
 ber mc, 
 1. And 
 member 
 beseech 
 
 uls," in- 
 
 1 all the 
 
 ic dead 
 
 ^rpetual 
 
 embert, 
 
 dead of 
 
 lal asso- 
 
 e same 
 
 ving by 
 
 jf each 
 
 al mes- 
 
 imcs of 
 
 ecrated 
 
 ;t,' and 
 
 prevent 
 
 ch our 
 
 ves or 
 
 years, 
 
 insti- 
 
 in 998. 
 
 ics us, 
 
 ion to 
 
 cut us 
 
 ay the 
 
 )W out 
 
 m 
 
 DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY IN THE EARLY IRISH 
 
 CHURCH. 
 
 WAI.SII.' 
 
 Coerced by the unvarying; as well as unequivocal tes- 
 timony of our writers, our liturj^ies, our canons, I'sher 
 was obliged to admit tiiat tlie ancient Irish had been in 
 the constant practice of offering up the eucharistic sacri- 
 fice, and that Masses, termed Rcquicui Masses, used to bo 
 celebrated daily. So iwtcrwoven is the doctrine of the 
 eucharistic sacrifice with the records of the nation, that 
 the antiquarian himself sh(juld reject tlic antiquities of 
 Ireland if he had ventured on the denial of this practice. 
 . . . . Admitting the practice of the ancient Irisli 
 Church, Usher strives to escape from the difficulty, as 
 well as attempts to deceive his readers, by pretending 
 that it had been only a sacrifice of thanksgiving, offered 
 as such for those souls who were in possession of eternal 
 happiness, and that it had not been believed or practiced 
 in the ancient Irish Church as a propitiatory sacrifice. 
 . . . . The ancient canons of the Irish Church as 
 clearly point out as the firmament demonstrates the glory 
 of God, the doctrine of our Church regarding the eucha- 
 ristic sacrifice, as one of thanksgiving, and also one of pro- 
 pitiation. In an ancient canon contained in D'Achery's 
 collection (lib. 2, cap. 20), the synod says : " The Church 
 offers for the souls of the deceased in four ways — for the 
 very good, the oblations are simply thanksgiving ; for 
 the very bad, they become consolations to the living ; for 
 such as were not very good, the oblations are made in 
 order to obtain full remission ; and for those who were 
 not very bad, that their punishment may be rendered 
 more tolerable." Here, then, is enunciated in plain terms, 
 the doctrine of the eucharistic oblation being a propitia- 
 tory sacrifice. When offered for the first class of happy 
 souls, it is an offering of thanksgiving. When offered for 
 
 ' " Ecclesiastical History of Ireland." Rev. J. Walsh. 
 
 i I 
 
 1^1 
 
'W 
 
 252 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 tliosc whose lives were bad in tlic sight of Heaven, its 
 obhition is a comfort to the faitiiful. Wiien offered for 
 tliose who were iKJt very j^ood or very bad, the object of 
 its oblation was to render tlieir state more tolerable, and 
 that full ])ard()n would be at length accorded. The 
 framers of tliis canon give us also the doctrine of a mid- 
 dle state, as a tenet also believed by the Church of Ire- 
 land. 
 
 Another canon, still more ancient, and which is reck- 
 oned among those of St. Patrick, is entitled '* Of the Ob- 
 lation for the Dead." This canon is couched in the fol- 
 lowing words : " There is a sin unto death, I do not say 
 that for it any do pray." This sin is final impenitence. 
 
 The ancient Irish Missal, "the Cursus Scotorum,'" con- 
 tains an oration for the dead : " Grant, O Lord, to him, 
 Thy servant, deceased, the pardon of all his sins, in that 
 secret abode where there is no longer room for penance. 
 Do Thou, O Christ, receive the soul of Thy servant, which 
 Thou hast given, and forgive him his trespasses more 
 abundantly than he has forgiven those who have tres- 
 passed against him." An oration is also given for the 
 living and the dead : " Propitiously grant that this sacred 
 oblation may be profitable to the dead in obtaining par- 
 don, and to the living, in obtaining salvation ; grant to 
 them (living and dead) the full remission of all their sins, 
 and that indulgence they have always deserved." 
 
 The liturgy usually called " Cursus Scotoruin " Avas that 
 which had been first brought to Ireland by St. Patrick, 
 and was the only one that had been used, until about the 
 close of the sixth century. About this period the Galil- 
 ean liturgy, " Cursus Galloruni^' was, it is probable, intro- 
 duced into Ireland. The " Cursus Scotorum " is supposed 
 to have been the liturgy originally drawn up and used by 
 St. Mark the evangelist ; it was afterwards followed by 
 St. Gregory Nazianzen, St. Basil, and other Greek 
 Fathers; then by Cassian, Honoratus, St. Cossarius of 
 Aries, St. Lupus of Troyes, and St. Germaine of Auxerre, 
 from whom St. Patrick received it, when setting out on 
 
 
 Hi 
 
Lvcn, its 
 ;rc(l lor 
 bjcct of 
 blc, and 
 I. The 
 
 a mid- 
 i of Ire- 
 is reck- 
 tiie Ob- 
 the fol- 
 not say 
 cnce. 
 7," con- 
 to him, 
 in that 
 cnance. 
 -, which 
 IS more 
 'e tres- 
 for the 
 
 sacred 
 ig par- 
 rant to 
 ;ir sins, 
 
 as that 
 'atrick, 
 )ut the 
 ; Galli- 
 , intro- 
 )posed 
 scd by 
 ed by 
 Greek 
 ius of 
 ixerre, 
 3ut on 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 I 
 
 253 
 
 his mission to Ireland. A copy of the " Ciirsiis Scoto- 
 rnm " was found by Mabillon, in the ancient monas- 
 tery of Bobbio, of wiiicli St. Columbanus was loundcr, 
 and which missal that learned writer believes to have 
 been written at least one thousand years before his time. 
 . . . . It contains two Masses for the dead ; one a 
 ji^eneral Mass, and the other '' Missn Saccrdotis defunct i''* 
 (Mass for a deceased priest). 
 
 PEiNCE NAPOT.\iO?i'3 PRAYER. 
 
 This prayer, in tUc handwr'img of the Prince Imperial, 
 was found amonj^ the pa;)crs in hi;-: desk at Camden 
 Palace. In publishing- it the Mornini^^ Post adds : " The 
 elucidation of his chauactcr alone 'pistihcs the ))i.:l)lication 
 of such a sacrcil <k>c;!;iicnt, w'iich wiil provj to the world 
 how intimately he was pcn^trat.cd with all ll^c feelings 
 which most become a Chriscip.vi, a.ul which give higher 
 hopes than arc alTorded bv Ll»c pa"i)S and nv^rir^ ;»'. this 
 transitory life." rh;3 follovving is a transia'-.Ton : *'() 
 God, I give to Thee my heai t, bur, give me fc ith. Without 
 faith there is no strong prayer, and to praj is a longing 
 of my soul. I pray, mA. i\\?X Thou Tihouldst take away 
 the obstacles on my path, but <hat Thou vnayst permit 
 me to Gverccme them. I pray, not ih.it Thou shoiddst 
 disarm my enemies, but that Thovi sl;ruldst aid me to 
 conquer myself. Hear, O God^ my prayer. Preserve to 
 my affection those vVo arc dear to me. Grant them 
 happy days. If' Thou only givest on this earth a certain 
 sum of joy, take, ») God, ray share, and bestow it on the 
 most worthy, and may the most worthy be my friends. 
 If thou iiCekest vengeance on man, strike me. Misfortune 
 is converted into happiness by the sweet thought that 
 those whom we love are happy. Happiness is poisoned 
 by the bitter thought : while I rejoice, those whom I love 
 a thousand times better than myself are suffering. For 
 
 i' 
 
 i! 
 
 
 li- 
 
 i 
 
iff* 
 
 
 254 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 O God, 
 
 happi 
 
 Take it from 
 
 ith. 
 
 mc, K) uoa, no more nappmcss. laKe it irom my pal 
 1 can only find joy in forgetting the past. 1/ I forget 
 those ivho arc no more, I shall be forgotten in my turn, and 
 how vSad the thought that makes me say, ' Time effaces 
 all.' The only satisfaction I seek is that which lasts for- 
 ever, that which is given by a tranquil conscience. O, 
 my God ! show me where my duty lies, and give me 
 strength to accomplish it always. Arrived at the term 
 of my life, I shall turn my looks fearlessly to the past. 
 Remember it will not be for me a long remorse. I shall 
 be happ3'. Grant, O God, that my heart may be pene- 
 trated with the conviction that those whom I love and 
 who are dead shall see all my actions. My life shall be 
 worthy of this witness, and my innermost thoughts shall 
 never make them blush." 
 
 * -vv * * % * ^k 
 
 That single line, " If I forget those who are no more, 
 I shall be forgotten in my turn," is an epitome of what is 
 taught us, and what our own hearts feel in relation to the 
 dead. May the noble young heart that poured forth this 
 beautiful prayer be remembered by Christian charity 
 now that he is amongst the departed ! 
 
 ' 
 
 it 
 
historical: 
 
 255 
 
 ny path. 
 / forget 
 urn, and 
 2 effaces 
 :ists for- 
 ice. O, 
 ^ivc me 
 le term 
 he past. 
 I shall 
 e pene- 
 )ve and 
 bhall be 
 its shall 
 
 o more, 
 what is 
 n to the 
 rth this 
 charity 
 
 .4 
 
 THE HELPERS OF THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 BY LADY GtORGIANA IILLERTON. 
 
 It has always seemed to me a particularly interesting 
 subject of thought to trace as far back as possible the 
 origin of great and good works, — to ascertain what were 
 the tendencies or the circumstances which concurred in 
 awakening the first ideas, or giving the first impulses, 
 which have eventually led to results the magnitude of 
 which was little foreseen by those destined to bring them 
 about ; how much of natural character, and what peculiar 
 gifts, united with God's grace in the formation of some 
 of those grand developments of religion which have been 
 the joy and the glory of the Church. 
 
 * -,V ^k % ^k * -K- 
 
 What would we not give to know, for instance, at what 
 page, at what sentence, of the volume of the " Lives of the 
 Saints " which St. Ignatius was reading on his sick couch 
 at the Castle of Loyola, the thought came into his mind 
 the ultimate development of which was the foundation of 
 the Society of Jesus ? or when the blessed Father Clavers' 
 soul was for the first time moved by a casual mention, 
 perhaps, of the sufferings of the negro race ? or the par- 
 ticular disappointment at some Parisian lady going out 
 of town in the midst of her works of charity, or at another 
 being detained at home by the sickness of some relative, 
 which suggested to St. Vincent de Paul the first idea of 
 gathering together a few servant girls from the country, 
 to do with greater regularity, if not more zeal, the visit- 
 ing amongst the poor which the ladies had undertaken, 
 and thus founding the Order of the Sisters of Charity? 
 I suppose that every one who has done anything worth 
 doing in the course of their lives could call to mind the 
 moment when a book, a sermon, a conversation, a casual 
 word, perhaps, — or, if they have been so favored, a direct 
 inspiration from God in the hour of prayer, — has given 
 
 .J- 
 
 i i 
 
 I 
 
>amm 
 
 256 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 the impulse — set fire, as it were, to the train lying ready 
 in their hearts. But long before this decisive time has 
 come, indications have existed, thoughts have arisen, feel- 
 ings have been awakened, w^hich, like the cloud big as a 
 man's hand, have foreshadowed the deluge of graces and 
 mercies about to inundate their souls. 
 
 As an instance of these indications of a particular bias, 
 I was struck with the mention of a childish fancy in the 
 early years of the foundress of the Order of Helpers of the 
 Souls in Purgatory, — a new community, which has sprung 
 up during the last ten years, and lias a history well worth 
 relating. To many this fresh manifestation of the spirit 
 of the Church on earth, and of its close affinity with the 
 suffering Church in Purgatory, has come as a wonderful 
 blessing and consolation, and inspired them with a grate- 
 ful regard for these new oblates and victims of charity to 
 the dead. 
 
 About thirty years ago a little girl in the town of N , 
 
 in France, had been much struck with the mention of 
 Purgatory. It made a very great impression upon her. 
 She used to picture it to herself as a dark closet, in which 
 a little fri(,.nd of hers who had lately died was perhaps 
 shut up, whilst she herself was playing in the garden and 
 running after butterflies ; and she kept longing to open 
 the door and let her out. This little girl was subse- 
 quently educated in one of the Convents of the Sacred 
 Heart, and learnt in that school lessons of self-devotion 
 and ardent zeal for souls which were hci'eafter to bear 
 fruit. She has retained to this day an enthusiastic affec- 
 tion for the religious teachers of her childhood ; and de- 
 votion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus is one of the principal 
 devotions of the order she has founded. 
 
 The thought which had occurred to her almost in in- 
 fancy continued to haunt her in another form as she grew 
 older. She kept asking herself, ** How could I help God ? 
 He is our helper: how can we help Him ? He gives me 
 everything: how could I give Him everything?" And 
 the answer which grace put into her heart to these oft- 
 
 f 
 
\' 
 
 g ready 
 ime has 
 en, feel- 
 )ig as a 
 ces and 
 
 lar bias, 
 y in the 
 -s of the 
 i sprung 
 11 worth 
 le spirit 
 vith the 
 Dnderful 
 a grate- 
 larity to 
 
 fN , 
 
 ntion of 
 
 )on her. 
 
 n which 
 
 perhaps 
 
 den and 
 
 to open 
 
 3 subse- 
 
 Sacrcd 
 
 evotion 
 
 to bear 
 
 ic aftec- 
 
 and de- 
 
 rincipal 
 
 it in jn- 
 le grew 
 p God ? 
 ives me 
 • And 
 ^se t)ft- 
 
 7 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 257 
 
 repeated questions was always, " By paying the debts of 
 the souls in Purgatory." 
 
 The inevitable result of this thought was the desire to 
 have wherewith to pay these debts. For this object the 
 necessity of a perfect life, of a daily sanctification, of an 
 ever-increasing store of merits and satisfactions, was ob- 
 vious. Hence nrturally arose the idea of the community- 
 life, of the practice of the evangelical counsels, and of 
 a meritorious, arduous, self-sacrificing charity towards 
 the poor, in order worthily to pray, to act, and to suffer 
 for the souls in Purgatory — to become, as it were, a co- 
 operator with our Lord, by aiding His designs of mercy 
 towards them, whilst satisfjdng His justice by voluntary 
 expiation. This lady was not led by one of those start- 
 ling bereavements which close a person's prospects of 
 earthly happiness, and leave them no object to live for 
 but the hope of winning mercy at God's hands for some 
 dear departed one ; or by the terrible anxiety about the 
 state of some beloved soul which forces on tlie survivor 
 the practice of a continual appeal to His compassionate 
 goodness. Her zeal for the souls in Purgatory was per- 
 fectly free from any earthly attachment ; it was as disin- 
 terested as possible, and sprung up in her heart before 
 she had known what it is to lose a friend or a relative, 
 before she had experienced the keen anguish of bereave- 
 ment. She was a happy, contented girl, living in a cheer- 
 ful and comfortable home, beloved by her family, enjoying 
 all innocent pleasures, going occasionally into society, 
 and amusing herself like other young people ; devoted, 
 indeed, to good works, and taking the lead in the numer- 
 ous charities existing in her native tow^n. But this was 
 not to be her eventual mode of life. It was good as far 
 as it went ; but she had been chosen for the accomplish- 
 ment of a special work, and grace was continually urging 
 her to its fulfilment. 
 
 On the 1st of November, 1853, ^Itllle. was hearing 
 
 vespers with her father and her mother in a church dedi- 
 cated to Our Lady. Whilst the Blessed Sacrament was 
 
 : 'i 
 
 K! 
 
 I 
 
 I', '■ 
 
 i> i 
 
 
 J. 
 
 ^1 
 
 \ 
 
 i. 
 
258 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 f 
 
 
 being exposed on the altar, she felt a strong internal in- 
 spiration prompting her to form an association of prayers 
 and offerings for the dead ; but, afraid of being misled by 
 her imagination, she prayed earnestly that God would 
 give her a sign that this was indeed His will. As she 
 was coming out of the church, a friend of hers stopped 
 her in the porch, and of her own accord proposed that 
 they should offer up jointly, during the montli set apart 
 for special devotion to the souls in Purgatory, all their 
 prayers and works for their relief. This seemed to her 
 a token that her inspiration had been a true one, and that 
 very evening an association wns begun which by this 
 time numbers not less than filtcen thousand members. 
 On the following day, the 2d of November, during her 
 
 thanksgiving after Communion, Mdlle. was strongly 
 
 impressed with the thought that there existed orders in- 
 tended to supply every need in the Church militant, but 
 none exclusively devoted to the relief of the suffering 
 portion of the Church, and it appeared to her that she 
 was called upon to fill up this void. This idea seemed 
 at the outset too bold a one. She felt startled, almost 
 alarmed, at its magnitude, and earnestly entreated our 
 Lord to make known to her if such was indeed to be her 
 mission. She begged of Him, by His Five Sacred 
 Wounds, to give her five indications of His will in this 
 respect. Her prayers were iieard, and during the course 
 of the years 1854 and 1855 these tokens were successively 
 vouchsafed to her. What she had asked for was, ist, 
 that the Holy Father should approve of in writing, and 
 give his blessing to, the association of pra3^ers set on foot 
 on All Saints' Day (on the 7th of July, 1854, Pius IX. 
 wrote, with his own hand, at the bottom of the petition 
 presented to him, " Bcncdicat vos Dais bcncdictionc per- 
 pctua,'' — may God bless you witli an everlasting blessing) ; 
 2d, that a great number of Bishops should approve of 
 this association ; 3d, that it should extend rapidly ; 4th, 
 that a few pious persons should co-operate in the scheme, 
 and devote themselves to works of charity in behalf of 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 259 
 
 itcrnal in- 
 3f prayers 
 misled by 
 od would 
 . As she 
 s stopped 
 osed that 
 set apart 
 , all their 
 ed to her 
 :, and that 
 h by this 
 members. 
 Liring her 
 ; strongly 
 orders in- 
 iitant, but 
 suffering 
 ' that she 
 a seemed 
 d, almost 
 ated our 
 to be her 
 3 Sacred 
 11 in this 
 le course 
 cessively 
 was, 1st, 
 ting, and 
 t on foot 
 iPius IX. 
 
 petition 
 tone pcr- 
 lessing) ; 
 prove of 
 Uy ; 4th, 
 
 scheme, 
 iehalf of 
 
 the souls in Purgator}'-; 5th, that a priest might be met 
 with who had previously formed a similar project. 
 
 In the month of July, 1855, Mdlle. thought of con- 
 sulting the Cure d'Ars, whom she had for the first time 
 heard of a little while before. Tlie sanctity of this ex- 
 traordinary man was beginning to be much spoken of, 
 not only in France, but all over Europe. Pilgrims flocked 
 to the insignificant little town of Ars, seeking the advice 
 and help of the poor curt' — whose ascetic mode of life, 
 spiritual discernment, heroic virtues, and even miraculous 
 gifts, were gradually becoming known, in spite of the 
 desperate efforts he made to conceal them. We can 
 hardly imagine, when reading his Life, that in the neigh- 
 boring country of France, and in our own day, a man was 
 actually living that we might have seen and spoken and 
 gone to confession to, the details of who^c supernatural 
 existence arc like the marvels that we read of in the " Lives 
 
 of the Saints." Mdlle. felt persuaded that this holy 
 
 priest was the instrument appointed by God to make her 
 acquainted with His will, and earnestly longed in some 
 way or other to communicate with him. She did not 
 think of obtaining leave from her parents to go to iVrs. 
 It seemed to her that his answer to her question, after he 
 had considered the subject before God in prayer, would 
 be more unbiassed, and carry greater weight with it, than 
 if she had spoken of it to him herself. She did not wish 
 to be influenced by any human considerations, or to be 
 tempted to say more than, '' Such is my thought and de- 
 sire; does it come from God?" With this view she 
 began a novena, and on the day it ended one of her friends 
 called to tell her she was going to Ars, and to inquire if 
 she could do anything for her. On the 5tli of August 
 this friend sent her M. Vianney's answer: " Tell her that 
 she can establish, as soon as she likes, an order for the 
 souls in Purgatory." 
 
 The future foundress never had any personal communi- 
 cation with the Cure d'Ars, and yet he always used to 
 say, " I know her." 
 
: i 
 
 r, ' 
 
 « l| 
 
 260 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 On the 30th of October Mdlle. entreated him to 
 
 pray on All Souls' Day for her intention, and on the nth 
 of November the Abbe T , his assistant in his exten- 
 sive correspondence, wrote to her as follows : 
 
 " Your edifying letter reached meat Pont d'Ain, where 
 our worthy Bishop, Monseigneur Chalandon, was preach- 
 ing a retreat. This seemed expressly arranged by Provi- 
 dence, in order that I should speak to him of you and 
 your pious projects. On my return to Ars, on All Souls' 
 Day, I mentioned your wishes to my holy cure, begging 
 him to meditate on the subject in prayer before he gave 
 me an answer. Three or four times since I have put to 
 him the same question, and always received the same 
 answer. * He tliinks that it is God who has inspired you 
 with the thought of a heroic self-devotion, and that you 
 will do well to found an order in behalf of the souls in 
 . Purgatory.' Whether the good curd speaks in conse- 
 quence of a divine enlightenment, or whether he only 
 expresses his own opinion and his own wishes, which his 
 tender devotion to the souls in Purgatory would naturally 
 incline in favor of your design, neither I nor any of those 
 most intimately acquainted with him can presume to say. 
 But you can remain certain of two things, — that he quite 
 approves of your vocation to the religious life, and of the 
 foundation of this new order, which he thinks will in- 
 crease rapidly. This is surely enough to confirm you in 
 your intention, which you will carry into effect whenever 
 and wherever it will please God to open a way to it, and 
 you vill then be the faithful instrument of His Divine 
 Providence." 
 
 On the 25th of the same month M. Vianney sent a mes- 
 sage to Mdlle. in answer to a letter in which she 
 
 had spoken of the obstacles which she foresaw on the 
 part of her family. The Abbe T writes : 
 
 "If I have not written to you before, it is because you 
 particularly wished to have an an. ver after special prayer. 
 And now here is this much-wi^.ied-for answer. The 
 good curd has expressed himself as explicitly as possible. 
 
1 him to 
 the nth 
 is exten- 
 
 n, where 
 > preach- 
 y Provi- 
 yoii and 
 il Souls' 
 begging 
 he gave 
 
 2 put to 
 
 le same 
 ired you 
 that you 
 souls in 
 1 consc- 
 he only 
 hich his 
 iaturally 
 of those 
 
 3 to say. 
 
 he quite 
 
 d of the 
 
 will in- 
 
 you in 
 hencver 
 ) it, and 
 
 Divine 
 
 t a mcs- 
 
 ich she 
 
 on the 
 
 use you 
 'prayer. 
 . The 
 ossible. 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 261 
 
 I told him that you were troubled at the thought of a 
 separation from your family more on their account than 
 your own, and also at relinquishing the many charitable 
 works which you carry on in your parish. To my great 
 surprise, he who generally very strongly recommends 
 young people not to act against their parents' wishes, but 
 patiently to await their consent, did not hesitate in ad- 
 vising you to proceed. He says that the tears your 
 parents are now shedding will soon be dried uj). Do not, 
 then, be afraid to let your heart burn with the love of 
 Jesus. He will find a way of removing all the obstacles 
 in your path, and of making you an angel of consolation 
 to His \ oly spouses, the souls in Purgatory. The moon 
 has no light in herself, and only reflects that of the sun. 
 This is truly my case with regard to our saintly priest. I 
 will constantly remind him to pray for you, and will unite 
 my unworthy prayers to his, that, in the terrible struggle 
 in your heart between nature and grace, grace may re- 
 main victorious." 
 
 When this letter reached Mdlle. , the principal 
 
 difficulty she foresaw was already removed. On the 21st 
 of November, the Feast of the Presentation of the Blessed 
 Virgin, her mother, seeing that her heart was ready to 
 break with the wish and the fear of broaching the subject 
 so painfully interesting to them both, had the pious cour- 
 age to speak first, and to give her full consent to her 
 child's vocation. 
 
 Both mother and daughter were struck some time 
 afterwards at finding in a little prayer-book they had not 
 seen before, called " The Month of November Conse- 
 crated to the Souls in Purgatory," the following prayer, 
 appointed to be said on the 21st of November, the very 
 day on which they had made their sacrifice, and uttered 
 for the first time the bitter word separation 
 
 " O Holy Spirit ! who at divers times has raised up re- 
 ligious orders for the needs of the Church Militant; O 
 Father of Light ! full of compassion and zeal for the dead ; 
 we implore Thee to raise up also in behalf of the suffer- 
 
2C2 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 in<:^ Church a new order, the object of which will be to 
 work day and night for the relief and the deliverance of 
 the souls in l\ir<^atory ; whose intentions, invariably ded- 
 icated to the dead, will apply to then the merits of all 
 their prayers, fastings, vigils, and good works. Thou 
 alone, Creating Spirit, canst achieve a work which will 
 procure so much glory to God, and for which we shall 
 never cease to sigh and pray." 
 
 Other difficulties failed not to arise. vSomc persons 
 
 were of opinion that jNIdlle, ought to remain in the 
 
 world for the very sake of the objects she had in view, 
 whereas her whole heart and soul were bent on conse- 
 crating herself without any reserve to our Lord. She 
 was warned that her parents, who had never been sepa- 
 rated from their children, would suffer terribly if she left 
 them ; and finally, her own health began to fail. But 
 whilst the world and the devil were multiplying the ob- 
 stacles in her way, the venerable Cure d'Ars spared 
 neither advice nor encouragement to support her in her 
 arduous struggle. On the 23d of December his coadjutor 
 writes : 
 
 " Divine Providence always acts with sweetness and 
 with power. The consent of your good mother is an im- 
 ])ortant step gained. The good aire, advises you not to 
 go to Paris until you have some means wherewith to begin 
 your work. You will do well to avail yourself of the in- 
 terest you possess in your diocese to obtain some aid 
 towards it. The cure entirely approves of your becom- 
 ing a religious. It is quite possible that God may restore 
 your health; and he advises you to make a novena to St. 
 Philomena. 
 
 " The very day I received your letter, Monseigneur 
 Chalandon, our worthy Bishop, came to Ars, to call on 
 my holy cure. I mentioned you to him. He told me 
 he had written to you. He also says that you must not 
 begin without some means and better health. Pray very 
 hard that God may give you both. I think the souls in 
 Purgatory ought to take this opportunity to prove that 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 263 
 
 nil be to 
 trance of 
 ibly dcd- 
 its of all 
 >. Thou 
 liicli will 
 wc shall 
 
 persons 
 11 in the 
 in view, 
 ti conse- 
 •d. She 
 en sepa- 
 
 she left 
 il. But 
 
 the ob- 
 
 spared 
 ' in her 
 adjutor 
 
 3SS and 
 
 ; an im- 
 
 not to 
 
 begin 
 the in- 
 
 ne aid 
 beeom- 
 restore 
 
 1 to St. 
 
 igneur 
 :all on 
 )ld me 
 ist not 
 y very 
 )uls in 
 e that 
 
 . 
 
 they have influence with God. Their interests are at 
 
 stake in the removal of these obstacles." Mdlle. had 
 
 asked to make this novena conjointly with M. Vianney ; 
 and she soon received the following letter: 
 
 " It is to-day, the 9th of January, that our much- 
 wished-for novena is to begin. The souls in l^urgatory 
 are interested in the re-establishment of your health. I am, 
 you know, but the echo of our good and holy ciin'. Your 
 director gives you excellent advice. You might, indeed, 
 as soon as you have means enough of sui)p()rt for one 
 year, go to l^uis for a while, and come back again to 
 forward the Nvork in the same way you are doing now\ 
 You say, ' St. Vincent de Paul used to begin his works 
 with nothing.' So he did. But then, as my good ciwc 
 observes, ' St. Vincent de Paul was a great saint ! ' " 
 
 According to jM. Vianncy's advice, on the 19th of Jan- 
 uary, 1856, the foundress v.ent to Paris, where she met 
 some persons who had, like her, resolved to devote them- 
 selves to the service of the souls in Purgatory ; but who 
 were quite at a loss how to proceed, and had no means 
 of support. .Ml sorts of crosses awaited this little band 
 of I lelpers of the Moly wSouls, for such was the name 
 they had taken. Not only were funds wanting for their 
 establishment, but they did not know where to apply for 
 work, and sufferings of every kind assailed them. Mdlle. 
 
 experienced what alwaj'S happens to generous souls 
 
 at^thc outset of their enterprises, v/hen they have unre- 
 servedly devoted themselves to the service of God, and 
 are being tried like gold in the furnace. I^lamc and 
 neglect became her portion. Nobody thought it worth 
 their while to assist a little band of women, whose heroic 
 project had seemed admirable, indeed, in theory, but 
 was now declared to be impracticable. They were con- 
 sidered as mere enthusiasts ; and, indeed, as was said by 
 IM. Dcsgenettcs, the venerable Cure of Notre Dame des 
 Victoires, they were truly possessed with the holy folly 
 of tlic Cross. 
 
 Meantime they had to work for their bread, and did 
 
 l! 
 
rT 
 
 264 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 f 
 
 work with all their mij^lit. But it was not always that 
 work coulrl be obtained; and trials without end beset 
 the infant eommunity, lodged in an attie in the Rue St. 
 Martin. Every day, as they asked their Heavenly 
 Father for their daily bread, they prepared themselves 
 to receive with it their habitual portion of sufferings and 
 privations — a fit noviceship for souls undertaking a work 
 
 of heroic expiation. Mdlle. , who, for the firr,t time 
 
 in her life quitted a home where she had known all the 
 comforts of affluence, had to undergo numberless priva- 
 tions. Illness combined with poverty to heighten their 
 trials. Their Divine Master made them experi ;nce the 
 kind of suffering which it was hereafter to be their 
 special vocation to relieve. The Cure d'Ars fully under- 
 stood the nature of that training, and never offered them 
 any help but that of his advice and prayjrs. " He does 
 not give you anything," says a letter written on the i6th 
 of March, " but Jic will ask wSt. Philomena, his heavenly 
 treasurer, to put it into the hearts of those who could 
 assist you to do so." And, indeed, help used to come 
 whenever the distress of the holy society became too 
 urgent. One day the foundress had not a single penny 
 left, and was, to use a common expression, at her wits* 
 end. But, thank God, there is something better than 
 human wits or human ingenuity in such extremities ; 
 and that is prayer. The Sister who acted as house- 
 keeper placed her bills before the Superioress, and asked 
 
 for money to buy food for the day. Mdlle. told 
 
 her to wait a little, and went out, not knowing very well 
 what to do next. She entered a church, threw herself on 
 her knees before the Blessed Sacrament, and prayed 
 long and fervently. As she was coming away she 
 stopped before an image of our Holy Mother, and clasp- 
 ing her hands, exclaimed : " My Blessed Mother, you 
 must get me 100 francs to-day. I will take no refusal. 
 You cannot, you never do forsake your children." She 
 went straight home, and up the dingy stairs into the 
 little room inhabited by the infant community. The in- 
 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 lys that 
 id beset 
 Rue St. 
 cavenly 
 ;m selves 
 ngs and 
 a work 
 rr,t time 
 
 1 all the 
 s priva- 
 en tiieir 
 ;ncc the 
 DC their 
 Y under- 
 cd them 
 He does 
 the 1 6th 
 icavenly 
 o could 
 
 o come 
 ime too 
 
 2 penny 
 cr wits' 
 cr than 
 :mitics ; 
 
 housc- 
 d asked 
 — told 
 ry well 
 rsclf on 
 prayed 
 ;iy she 
 clasp- 
 r, you 
 efusal. 
 ' She 
 to the 
 he in- 
 
 h 
 
 265 
 
 stant she opened the door her eyes fell on a letter lyini^ 
 on the table. She opened it with a beatinj^ heart, and 
 found in it a note of 100 francs. There was no name ; 
 not a word written on the cover. The postman had just 
 left it, and to this day the donor of this sum, or the place 
 it came from, has not been discovered. Another time 
 ei^ht sous was all that remained in the purse of the asso- 
 ciates. They agreed to lay out this money to advantac^e, 
 and accordin*^ly employed it in purchasin<^ a little statue 
 of St. Joseph, whom they instituted their treasurer. 
 The Saint has fulfilled ever since the trust reposed in 
 him ; but he often waits till the very last moment to 
 supply the necessities of his clients. I have seen this 
 little image in their convents. It is, of course, very dear 
 to them. 
 
 One day, when no needle-work was to be had, and dis- 
 tress was threatening them, a little girl came to their 
 room, and asked if they had finished the bracelets she 
 had been told to call for. Finding she had mistaken the 
 direction, the child said : " You could have some of that 
 work to do if you liked." 
 
 Upon inquiry they found that the employment con- 
 sisted in threading rows of pearls for foreign exporta- 
 tion ; that it was less fatiguing and better paid than 
 needle-work, and proved for some months a valuable re- 
 source. On another occasion the sum of 500 francs 
 was required for some pressing necessity. This time 
 the foundress had recourse to our Lady of Victories. 
 Having placed the matter in her hands, she w^ent to call 
 on a person whom she thought might lend her this 
 money, but met with a decided negative. She did not 
 know any one else in Paris to whom she could apply ; 
 but on leaving the house she met a gentleman, with 
 whom she had no previous acquaintance, who came up 
 
 to her and said : " I think you are Mdlle. , and that 
 
 ypu have a special devotion for the souls in Purgatory. 
 Will you allow me to place this 500 francs at your dis- 
 posal, and to recommend my intentions to your prayers ? " 
 
 f 
 
 i ' 
 
 
 Mil 
 
 5 
 
 1 
 
 ^y 
 
 K ij 
 
t^ 
 
 *p 
 
 266 
 
 I'UUGATOKY. 
 
 Mcainvlulc illnesses and trials continued to afiect the 
 
 little coninumity. The Abbe T writes Ironi Ars : 
 
 " Do not ask lor miraculous cures. M. Ic Cure coni- 
 l)lains that St. i'hiloinena sends us too many i)eoi)le." 
 The next letter is lull ot kind encoura^icement : "J/. Ic 
 Cure only smiles when I tell him all you have to j^o 
 through, antl he bids me repeat the same thins^ to you, 
 which he desired me to write to a jj^ood Sister, de- 
 voted to all sorts of j^ood works and sullerin^^ cruel per- 
 secution. ' Tell her that these crosses are llowers which 
 will soon bear fruit.' Vou have thou.i,dit, [)rayed, taken 
 advice, and thoroughly weij^'hed the sacrilices 3'ou will 
 have to make, and you have every reason to believe 
 that in doinsj;- this work you are doini^ God's will. The 
 cnerf^y which lie alone can give will enable you to ac- 
 complish what you have bc<;un." ..." J/. Ic Curt' 
 has said to me several times, in a tone of the stnmgest 
 conviction, 'Their enterprise cannot fail to succeed ; but 
 the foundress will have to experience what anxiety and 
 what labor, what efforts and what sufferinij^s, have to be 
 endured ere such a work can be consolidated; but,' he 
 adds, ' if God is with them, who shall be against them ? ' " 
 
 On the 20th of June the Superioress received another 
 letter from the same good priest : 
 
 " I feel deeply affected," he writes, " at the thought of 
 the many and severe trials which beset you. Tell your 
 friend that the holv cure bids her not to look back, but 
 obey with courage the sacred call she has received. The 
 souls in Purgatory must be enabled lo say of you, 'We 
 have advocates on earth who can feel for us, because they 
 know themselves what it is to suffer.' .\nd mind you go 
 on praying to St. Phihjmena, and begging of her to 
 obtain for you the means necessary for the accomplish- 
 ment of your holy projects." 
 
 The associates continued to pray, to work, and to suffer 
 with patience and cheerfulness. They received at last 
 some unexpected assistance. New members proposed to 
 join them ; but it became then absolutely necessary to 
 
 1. 
 
IIISTORICAI,. 
 
 Tcct the 
 m Ars : 
 r/ com- 
 
 [)C()I)lc. " 
 
 "J/, /c- 
 c to ii;o 
 
 to you, 
 acr, dc- 
 •ucl i)cr- 
 s wliich 
 (1, taken 
 you will 
 
 believe 
 ill. The 
 .)U to ae- 
 , /c Cnn' 
 itrongest 
 ;ccl ; but 
 icty and 
 vc to be 
 
 but; he 
 
 .1 
 
 icm . 
 another 
 
 )ui;ht of 
 ell your 
 ack, but 
 d. The 
 ou, * We 
 use they 
 you go 
 her to 
 omplish- 
 
 to suffer 
 I at last 
 :)0scd to 
 ssary to 
 
 267 
 
 hire a liousc. The wSupcriorcss searched in every direc- 
 tion for a suitable one, but without success. It seems as 
 if the words, " tiiere was no room for them," were destiuetl 
 to i)r()ve ai)|)licable to all relii^ious foundations durinu^ 
 their periods of j)robati()nary trial. After having; exerted 
 iierself, and employed others in vain for a Ioujlj^ time, the 
 Superioress received a messaj^e from a holy man vv iiosc 
 prayers she had asked, desirinij^ her to ^0 to a pai ticular 
 part of the town, and to await there some providential 
 indication as to the abode she was seekini^. For several 
 hours slie paced up and down the streets of tliat ])art of 
 Paris, prayinjj^ interiorly, but totally at a loss where to 
 apply. At last she accidentally turned into the Rue de 
 la Barouillierc, and saw a house and garden witii a bill 
 upon it indicating that it was to be let or sold. She im- 
 mediately asked to go over it. All sorts of difficulties, 
 a})parently insurmountable ones, stood in the way of the 
 purchase. They were overcome in a strangely imac- 
 countable manner, and the money which had to be paid 
 in advance was actually forthcoming on the appointed 
 day, to the astonishment of all concerned. Tiie history 
 of this negotiation, and the wonderful answers to prayer 
 vouchsafed in the course of it, are very striking ; only 
 the more we study the manifestations of God's Provi- 
 dence with regard to works carried on in faith and simple 
 reliance on His assistance, the more accusionicd we get to 
 these miracles of mercy. The Helpers of the Souls in 
 Purgatory took possession of their new home on the ist 
 of July, 1856, and not long after began their labors 
 amongst the poor. An act of kindness solicited at their 
 hands towards a sick and destitute neiirhbor soon after 
 their arrival, was the primary cause of their choosing as 
 their particular line of charity attendance on the sick poor 
 in their own destitute homes by day and by night also. 
 This, together with their prayers, their fasts, and their 
 watches, is the continual sacrifice they offer up for the 
 souls in Purgatory. 
 
 * 
 
 Hi 
 
 * 
 
 < 
 
 
 ■ 
 
 f .1 
 
•kc: 
 
 , < ^ " ^ Ktt ^i n «g; w »* 
 
 268 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Before I go on with the history of the Helpers of the 
 Holy Souls in Purgatory, I must describe to you their 
 house, — No. 16 Rue de la Barouilliere, — a very small and 
 inconvenient one at the time of their installation, but 
 which has since been re-modelled according to the wants 
 of the increasing community, and an adjoining one added 
 to it. I have often visited tliis convent, which soon be- 
 comes dear to those who would fain help the many be- 
 loved ones removed from their sight, but feel the impo- 
 tency of their own efforts, their want of holiness, of courage, 
 and of perseverance in this blessed work. The sight of 
 this religious house is very touching ; the inscriptions on 
 the walls, which are taken from the Holy Scriptures and 
 the writings of the Saints, all bear reference to the state 
 of departed souls, and our duty towards them ; the quiet 
 ch ^^el where the Office for the Dead is daily said, and a 
 nuaiber of Masses offered up. The memorials of the 
 saintly Cure d'Ars, whose spirit seems to hover over the 
 place, gives a peculiar character to its aspect. The nuns 
 do not wear the religious dress, but are simply dressed 
 in black, like persons in mourning. 
 
 i^ vV -A- % -» * * 
 
 On the 1 8th of August, 1856, Monseigneur Sibour, the 
 Archbishop of Paris, came to visit and bless the 1 ew 
 community. ** It is a grain of mustard-seed," he said, 
 *' which will become a great tree, and spread its branches 
 far and wide." He approved of all that had been done 
 since the house had been opened, and allowed Mass to be 
 said every day in the chapel as soon as it could be prop- 
 erly fitted up, which was the case on the ensuing 5th of 
 November. On the 8th of the same month the house 
 was solemnly consecrated to the Blessed Virgin ; the 
 keys w;.re laid at the feet of her image, and she was en- 
 treated to become herself the Superioress of the congre- 
 gation. 
 
 It was on the 27th of December, the feast of the disciple 
 whom Jesus loved, the great apostle of charity, that tlic 
 foundress and five other Sisters made their first vows. 
 
 ? 
 
s of the 
 3U their 
 mall and 
 ion, but 
 10 wants 
 ic added 
 sOon be- 
 iiany be- 
 ic impo- 
 couragc, 
 sight of 
 )tions on 
 ires and 
 :he state 
 the quiet 
 id, and a 
 s of the 
 over the 
 rhc nuns 
 ' dressed 
 
 * 
 )Our, the 
 
 the 1 e\v 
 he said, 
 tranches 
 en done 
 ass to be 
 3C prop- 
 ig 5th of 
 ic house 
 ;in ; the 
 was en- 
 
 congre- 
 
 disciplc 
 that the 
 st vows. 
 
 
 '► 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 269 
 
 A few days afterwards, Monscigneur Sibour was about 
 to siirn a errant of indulircnces for the work of the re- 
 ligious ; some one standing beside him said, " Monseigneur, 
 the souls in Purgatory are guit.ing your pen." He 
 smiled, and made haste to write his name. He little 
 thought how soon he would be himself numbered with 
 the dead. It was on the 3d of January, 1857, that his 
 tragical death took place. 
 
 ^A -VV * if: •;<• ^ * 
 
 On the 4th of August, 1859, ^^^^ holy Cure of Ars died ; 
 but he lives in the hearts and in tlie memories of the 
 community which owes so much to his prayers and his 
 advice. His name is frequently on their lips ; often lias 
 his intercession obtained for them miraculous cures. 
 Every memorial of him is carefully preserved and vener- 
 ated. 
 
 ^V * * Tfr ^ % * 
 
 In the course of the year 1859, ^^^ the Feast of St. Bene- 
 dict, Cardinal INIorlot sanctioned the institution of a third 
 order of Helpers of the Souls in Purgatory, and the 
 affiliation to it of honorary members. The ladies of the 
 third order engage to lead a practically Christian life in 
 the world, to perform exactly all their religious duties, 
 and those of their state of life. They promise, in their 
 measure, to suffer, act, and pray for the dead, and offer 
 up their good works, the sacrifices they may be inspired 
 to make, and the devotions prescribed by a simple and 
 easy rule adapted to their condition, for this object. ... 
 On the day of the institution of the third order, twenty- 
 eight ladies joined it, received the cross, and made their 
 act of consecration in presence of the Archbishop. The 
 honorary members have been continually and rapidly 
 increasing in number. 
 
 % it '^ * * * 4f 
 
 The new order has a special devotion to St. Joseph, the 
 great minister of God's mercy to all religious, the partic- 
 ular protector of the souls in Purgatory, the foster-father 
 of Christ's poor, and the helper of the dying. He was 
 
 il 
 
 1 
 
 1 i 
 
 ^ 
 
 ll5 
 
 I 11 
 
 Mi 
 
.-c 
 
 iMT i m-r i fiiiiarMi g t - j wsgai 
 
 ( 
 
 270 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 himself once in limbo, and knows what it is to wait. It 
 h scarcely necessary to speak of their devotion to the 
 Blessed Virgin, whom they have crowned as the Queen 
 of Purgatory, and invoke under the title of Our Lady of 
 Providence. They specially keep the Feast of the Sacred 
 Heart, those of St. Ignatius and St. Gertrude ; but All 
 Souls is of course the day of their most particular devo- 
 tion. The Holy Sacrament is exposed during the whole 
 time of the Octave. 
 
 vV V: * %'fr * % % 
 
 And now, to use words of Pere Blot, of the Society of 
 Jesus : " How consoling a thought it is that as the Holy 
 Souls in Puigatory, in all probability, and according to 
 the opinion of the greatest theologians, know what we do 
 for them, and pray for us, they see these acts of charity ; 
 they see these devoted women making themselves the 
 slaves of the poor, and sowing in tears, that they them- 
 selves may reap in joy. We cannot also but believe that 
 the pra3'ers of the Holy Souls, and pc "laps their influence, 
 contrii)ute to the success of the mission carried on for 
 their sakes and in their name amidst the poor and suffer- 
 ing. Several times when they have been invoked by the 
 community, wonderful cures have been vouchsafed and 
 favors obtained. Instances of this kind iiave excited the 
 astonishment of physicians, and confirmed a pious belief 
 in the efficacy of those prayers. St. Catlierine, of 
 Bologna, used t;) say, ' When I wish to obtain some favor 
 from tlie Eternal Fatlicr, I invoke the souls in the place 
 of expiation, and charge them with the petition I have to 
 make to Him, and I feel I am heard through their means.' 
 Let us, then, if wo feel inspired to do so, ask the pra)^ers 
 of the souls in Purgatory ; but, above all things, let us 
 pray for them, and, like these religious, join to our prayers 
 acts of self-denying charit}'' towards the poor. Let us 
 always remember, that to the Eternal Lord of all things 
 cver3'thing is present — the future as well as the past. kVc 
 call Him t!ic King of Ages, because the order of events 
 depends wholly on His will, and nothing in their course 
 
 .. 
 
 I 
 
iiisToracAL. 
 
 271 
 
 ait. It 
 
 to the 
 
 Queen 
 
 Lady of 
 
 Sacred 
 
 but All 
 
 r devo- 
 
 '. whole 
 
 ilr 
 
 ciety of 
 e Holy 
 iling- to 
 t we do 
 harlty ; 
 ves the 
 Y them- 
 \'C that 
 lucnce, 
 on for 
 suffer- 
 by the 
 sd and 
 cd the 
 belief 
 no, of 
 J favor 
 place 
 ave to 
 neans.' 
 ra3-ers 
 let us 
 rayers 
 ^et us 
 thing's 
 iVc 
 [events 
 :oursc 
 
 o 
 
 or sacccssion can alter or chang-e the effects of that will. 
 He looks upon what is to rome as if it were present or al- 
 ready past. In consideration of the prayers, the suffrages, 
 and the good works of tiie Church, which He foresees, 
 He grants proportionate graces, even as if those prayers 
 
 and good works had been already offered up 
 
 Amongst the Helpers of the Holy Souls several have 
 made great sacrifices to God in order to obtain mercy 
 for souls long ago called away from this world. We can 
 all imitate their example. * Oh ! if it was not too late!' 
 is the cry of many a heart tortured by anxiety for the 
 fate of some loved one who has died apparently out of 
 the Church, or not in a state of grace. We answer, ' It 
 is never too late, l^ray ; act ; suffer. The Lord fores a. 
 your efforts. The Lord knew what was to come, < iid 
 may have given to that soul at its last hour some e\ti; or- 
 dinary graces, which snatched it from destruction, and 
 placed it in safety where your love may still reach it, 
 your prayers relieve, your sacrifices avail.' " 
 
 I could not resist closing this letter with these sen- 
 tences, which have raised the hopes and stimulated the 
 courage of many mourners. I only wish this imperfect 
 sketch of the Order of Helpers of the Holy Souls, and 
 of the nature of their work, might prove a first though 
 feeble ste}) towa'ds the introduction amongst us at some 
 future day of a Msterhood which, in the vvords used on 
 his death-bed by Father Faber, the great advocate 
 amongst us of devotion to the Holy Souls in Purgatory, 
 ** procures such immense glory to God." 
 
 1 ' 
 
 if 
 
 l« 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 I ■ 
 
 I 
 

 2/2 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 THE MASS IN RELATION TO THE DEAD. 
 
 OlJRir.N 
 
 1 
 
 The Mass of Requiem is one celebrated in behalf of 
 the dead. . . . If the body of the deceased be present 
 during its celebration, it enjoys privileges thit it other- 
 wise would not, for it cannot be celebrated unless within 
 certain restrictions. Masses of this kind are accustomed 
 to be said in memor}' of the departed faithful, first, when 
 the person dies — or, as the Latin phrase has it, dies obittis 
 sen depositionis, which means any day that intervenes from 
 the day of one's demise to his burial ; secondly, on the 
 third day after death, in memory of Our Divine Lord's 
 resurrection after three days' interval; tJm'dly, on the 
 seventh day, in memory of the mourning of the Israelites 
 seven days for Joseph (Gen. i. lo); fourthly, on the thir- 
 tieth day, in memory of Moses and Aaron, vv^hom the 
 Israelites lamented this length of time i^Nunib. xx. ; Dcut. 
 xxxiv.) ; and, finally, at the end of the year, or on the an- 
 niversary day itself (Gavant., Thcsaur. Rit. 62). This 
 custom also prevails with the Orientals. 
 
 During the early days it was entireh^ at the discretion 
 of every priest whether he said daily a plurality of Masses 
 or not (Gavant., Thcsaur. Rit. p. 19). It was quite usual 
 to say two Masses, one of the occurring feast, the otlier 
 for the benefit of the faithfid departed. This practice, 
 however, kept gradually falling into desuetude until the 
 time of Pope Alexander II. (A. D. 1061-1073), when that 
 pontiff decreed that no priest should say more than one 
 JNIass on the same day. 
 
 -X- -X- vi- ■«■ * * * 
 
 Throughout the kingdom of Aragon, in Spain (includ- 
 ing Aragon, Valenlia, and Catalonia), also in the kingdom 
 of Major< a (a dependency of Aragon), it is allowed each 
 
 ''Rev. John O'Oiicn, A.M., Prof, of S-icred Lituiffv at Mt. St. ."^ifniy's, 
 Emniittsbiir^. '' History i.f the Mass and its (.,cremonU.s in the Eastern and 
 VVesteiU Churches." 
 
 V 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 273 
 
 2half of 
 present 
 t other- 
 5 within 
 istomed 
 ■/, when 
 'S obitiis 
 ics from 
 on the 
 Lord's 
 on the 
 raelites 
 le thir- 
 om the 
 ; Dciit. 
 the an- 
 This 
 
 :retion 
 Masses 
 t usual 
 other 
 actice, 
 til the 
 11 that 
 an one 
 
 ucUul- 
 ij;"doui 
 i each 
 
 army's, 
 crn and 
 
 t 
 
 secular priest to say two Masses on the 2d of November, 
 the Commemoration of all the Faithful Departed, and 
 each regular priest three Masses. This privilege is also 
 enjoyed by the Dominicans of the Monastery of St. James 
 at Pampeluna (Benedict XIV., Dc Sacrif. lilissal Roi:uv, ex. 
 Congr. dc Prof. Fidi.', an. 1859 cditio, p. 139). This grant, 
 it is said, was first made cither by Pope Julius or Pope 
 Paul III., and though often asked for afterwards by per- 
 sons of note, was never granted to any other country, or 
 to any place in Spain except those mentioned. For want 
 of any very recent information upon the subject, I am un- 
 able to say how far the privilege extends at the present 
 day. A movement is on foot, however, to petition the 
 Holy See for an extension of th's privilege to tlie Univer- 
 sal Church, in order that as 1 aid as possible may be 
 given to the suffering souls in Purgatory. 
 
 * 4fr * * -X- % -:f 
 
 In case or "a death occurring (amongst the Armenians) 
 Mass is never omitted. The Armenians say one on the 
 day of burial and one on the seventh, fifteenth, and for- 
 tieth after death ; also one on the anniversary day. This 
 holy practice of praying for the dead and saying Mass in 
 their behalf is very common throughout the entire East, 
 with schismatics as well as Catholics. 
 
 ^ 'k -I! -k H: •!! -k 
 
 As late as the sixteenth century, a very singular custom 
 prevailed in England — viz. : that of presenting at the altar 
 during a Mass of Requiem all the armor and military 
 equipments of deceased knights and noblemen, as well as 
 their chargers. Dr. Kock (Church of our Fathers, II. 507), 
 tells us that as many as eight horses, fully caparisoned, 
 used to be brought into the church for this purpose at 
 the burial of some of the higher nobility. At the funeral 
 of Henr)- VII., in Westminster Abbey, after the royal 
 arms had first been presented at the foot of the altar, we 
 are told tliat .Sir Edward Howard rode into Church upon 
 '■'■ a goodlie courser," with the arms of England em- 
 broidered upon his trappings, and delivered him to the 
 
 if» 
 
 i '■■ 
 
 
-t^im 
 
 *ww 
 
 r 
 
 I 
 
 274 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 abbots of tlie monastery iibid). Somcthin<:^ similar hap- 
 pened at the Mass of Requiem for the repose of the soul 
 of Lord Bray in A. D. 1557, and at that celebrated for 
 Prince Arthur, son of Henry VII. {ibid). 
 
 ■k % «• -w % ^k * 
 
 As the priest begins to recite the memento for the 
 dead, he moves his hands slowly before his face, so as to 
 have them united at the words '' in somno pads'' This 
 gentle motion of the hands is aptly suggestive here of the 
 slow, lingering motion of a soul preparing to leave the 
 body, and the final union of the hands forcibly recalls to 
 mind the laying down of the body in its quiet slumber in 
 the earth. As this prayer is very beautiful, we transcribe 
 it in full. It is thus worded : ** Remember, also, O Lord ! 
 Thy servants, male and female, who have gone before us 
 with the sign of faith and sleep in the sleep of peace, N. 
 N. ; to Ihem, O Lord! and to all v/ho rest in Christ, we 
 beseech Thee to grant a place of refreshment, light, and 
 peace ; through the same Christ our Lord. Arrien." At 
 the letters N. N. the names of the particular persons to 
 be prayed for among the departed were read out from 
 the diptychs in ancient times. When the priest comes to 
 them now he does not stop, but pauses awhile at " /// 
 souiiij pads'" to make his private memento of those whom 
 i.c wishes to pray for in particular, in which he is to be 
 guided by the same rules that directed him in making his 
 memento for the living, only that here he cannot pra}' for 
 the conversion of any one, as he could there, for this solely 
 relates to the dead who are detained in Purgatory. Should 
 the Holy Sacrifice be offered for any soul among the de- 
 parted which could not be benefited by it, either because 
 of the loss of its eternal salvation or its attainment of the 
 everlasting joys of heaven, theologians commonly teach 
 that in that case the fruit of the Mass would enter the 
 treasury of the Chu'xh, and be applied afterwards in 
 such indulgences and the like as Almighty God might 
 suggest to the dispensers of his gift (Suarcz, Disp.^ xxxviii. 
 sec. 8). 
 
 f 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 275 
 
 Wc beg to direct particular attention here to the ex- 
 pression "sleep of peace." That harsh word death, which 
 we now use, was seldom or never heard amons^ the early 
 Christians when talkin<^ of their dei)arted brethren. 
 Death to them was nothinj^ else but a sleep until the 
 great day of resurrection, when all would rise up arj^ain 
 at the sound of the angel's trumpet ; and this bright idea 
 animated their minds and enlivened all their hopes when 
 conversing with their absent friends in prayer. So, too, 
 with the place of interment ; it was not called by that 
 hard name that distinguishes it too often now, viz., the 
 grai'c-yard, but was called by the milder term of ccnictcrVy 
 which, from its Greek derivation, means a dormitory, or 
 sleeping-place. Nor was the word bury cmploved to 
 signify the consigning the body to the earth. No, this 
 sounded too profane in the cars of the primitive Chris- 
 tians ; they rather chose the word depose, as suggestive of 
 the treasure that was put away until it pleased God to 
 turn it to better use on the final reckoning day. The old 
 Teutonic expression for cemetery was, to say the least of 
 it, very beautiful. The blessed place was called in this 
 tongue gottcs-ackcr — that is, God's field — for the reason 
 that the dead were, so to speak, the seed sown in the 
 ground from which would spring the harvest reaped on 
 the day of general resurrection in the shape of glorified 
 bodies. According to this beautitul notion, the stone 
 which told who the departed person was that lay at rest 
 beneath, was likened to the label that was hung upon a 
 post by the farmer or gardener to tell the passer-by tlic 
 name of the flower that was deposited beneath. This 
 happy application of the word sleep to death runs also 
 through Holy Scripture, where we frequently find such 
 expressions as "He slept with his fathers," " ] have slept 
 and 1 am refreshed," applied from the third Psalm to our 
 Divine Lord's time in the sepulchre ; the " sleep of peace," 
 " he was gathered to his fathers," etc. 
 
 The prayers of the Orientals for the faithful departed 
 are singularly touching. In the Co^^ic Liturgy of St. 
 
 J 
 
 i 
 
 'i^ 
 
 ' 
 
 
 
•^rmmi^^m 'm ■ w. tm . 
 
 TT^""''^"'— 
 
 mhamM 
 
 276 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Basil the memento is worded thus: "In like manner, () 
 Lord ! remember also all those who have already fallen 
 asleej) in the priesthood and amidst the laity ; vouchsafe 
 to give rest to their souls in the bosoms of our holy 
 fathers, Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob; bring them into a 
 place of greenness by the waters of comfort, in the para- 
 dise of pleasure where grief and misery and sighing are 
 banished, in the brightness of the saints." The Orientals 
 are very much attached to ancient phraseology, and 
 hence their frequent application of " the bosom of Abra- 
 ham " to that middle state of purification in the next life 
 which we universally designate by the name of Purga- 
 tory. In the Syro-Jacobite Liturgy of John Bar Maadan, 
 part of the memento is thus worded : " Reckon them 
 among the number of Thine elect; cover them with the 
 bright cloud of Thy saints ; set them with the lambs on 
 Thy right hand, and bring them into Thy habitation." 
 The following extract is taken from the Liturgy of St. 
 Chrysostom, which, as we have said already, all the 
 Catholic and schismatic Greeks of the East follow : 
 " Remember all those that are departed in the hope of 
 the resurrection to eternal life, and give them rest where 
 the light of Thy countenance shines upon them." But of 
 all the Orientals, the place of honor in this respect must 
 be yielded to the Nestorians ; for, heretics as they are, 
 too much praise cannot be given them ibr the singular 
 reverence they show towards their departed brethren. 
 From a work of theirs called the ** Sinhados," which Badger 
 quotes in his " Nestorians and their Rituals," we take the 
 following extract : " The service of third day of the dead is 
 kept up, because Christ rose on the third day. On the 
 ninth day, also, there should be a commemoration, and 
 again on the thirtieth day, after the example of the Old 
 Testament, since the people mourned for Moses that 
 length of time. A year after, also, there should be a par- 
 ticular commemoration of the dead, and some of the prop 
 erty of the deceased should be given to the poor in re- 
 membrance of him. We say this of believers; for, as to 
 
 H 
 
 
 i 
 
i i 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 277 
 
 ! 
 
 i 
 
 unbelievers, should all tht!; wealth of the world be given 
 to the poor in their behall, it would profit them notiiiii|^." 
 The Armenians call Purgatory by the name Gdyaii — 
 that is, a mansion. The Chaldeans style it Matlhar, the 
 exact equivalent of our term. I3y some of the other Ori- 
 ental Churches it is called Kavarnfi, or place of penance ; 
 and Makraran, a place of purification (Smith and Dwignt, 
 [. }). 169). 
 
 We could multiply examples at pleasure to prove that 
 tliere is no church in the Hast to which the name of 
 Christian can be given that does not look upon praying 
 for the faithful departed, and offering the Holy Mass for 
 the repose of their souls, as a sacred and solemn obliga- 
 tion. Protestants who would fain believe otherwise, and 
 who not unfrequcntly record differently in their writings 
 about the Oriental Christians, can verify our statements 
 by referring to any Eastern Liturgy and examining for 
 themselves. We conclude our remarks on this head by 
 a strong argument in point from a very unbiased Angli- 
 can minister — the Rev. Dr. John Mason Neale. Speak- 
 ing of prayers for the dead in his work entitled " A His- 
 tory of the Holy Eastern Church," general introduction, 
 Vol. I. p. 509, this candid-speaking man uses the follow- 
 ing language : " I am not now going to prove, what 
 nothing but the blindest prejudice can deny, that the 
 Church, east, west, and south, has, with one consentient 
 and universal voice, even from Apostolic times, prayed 
 in the Holy Eucharist for the departed faithful." 
 
 i 
 
 
 Ml 
 
2/8 rUUGATORY. 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION ON DANIEL O'CONNELL. 
 
 RliV. THOMAS IlIRKi;, O. 1'. 
 
 ["Wisdom cnnductcd tlic just man llirou^li tlic ri^Iit ways, ami showed 
 him the kingdom of God, made iiitn honorable in liis labors, and aecom- 
 plished his works. She kept liini sale from his enemies, and gave liim a 
 strong conilict that he might overcome ; and in bondage she left him not 
 till she brought him the sceptre of the kingdo: \ and power against those 
 that oppressed him, and gave him everlasting glory." — Wisdom x.'J 
 
 Nor was Ireland for<^ottcn in the clesi<^ns of Ciod. 
 Centuries oi patient endurance brouo^ht at lcn<^th the 
 dawn of a better day. God's hour came, and it brought 
 with it Ireland's greatest son, Daniel O'Connell. We 
 surround his grave to-day to pay him a last tribute ot 
 love, to speak words of praise, of suffrage, and prayer. 
 For two and tv/enty years has he silently slept in the 
 midst of us. His generation is passing away, and the 
 light of history already dawns upon his grave, and she 
 speaks his name with cold, unimpassioned voice. In 
 this age of ours a few years are as a century of times 
 gone by. Great changes and startling events follow 
 each other in such quick succession that the greatest 
 names are forgotten almost as soon as those who bore 
 them disappear, and the world itself is surprised to find 
 how short-lived is the fame which promised to be immor- 
 tal. The Church alone is the true shrine of immor- 
 tality — the temple of fame which pcrisheth not; and that 
 man only whose name and memory is preserved in her 
 sanctuaries receives on this earth a reflection of that 
 glory which is eternal in heaven. But before the Church 
 will crown any one of her children, she carefully exam- 
 ines his claims to the immortality of her gratitude and 
 praise. She asks, ''What has he done for God and for 
 man?" This great question am I come here to answer 
 to-day for him wdiose tongue, once so eloquent, is now 
 
 ' From the funeral oration preached at Glassnevin (^emctcry, in May, 
 iS6q, on the occasion of the removal of the remains of the Liberator to their 
 final resting place. 
 
i 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 2/9 
 
 Stilled in the silence of the {^rave, nnd over whose tonii) 
 a sj^rateful country has raised a monument of its ancient 
 faitii and a record of its past j^lorics ; and I claim for him 
 (lie need of onr u^ratitude and love, in that he was a man 
 of faith, whom wisdom j^uided in "the ri*^ht ways," who 
 loved and souij^ht " the kinj^^dom of God,'' who was 
 *' most honorable in his labors," and who accomplished 
 his " f^reat works;" the liberator of his race, the father 
 of his people, the conqueror in " the undehled conllict " of 
 
 principle, truth and justice 
 
 .... Before him stretched, fidl and broad, the two 
 ways of life, and he must choose between them : the way 
 which led to all that the world prized — wealth, power, 
 distinction, title, glory, and fame ; the way of genius, the 
 noble rivalry of intellect, the association with all that was 
 most refined and refining — the way which led up to the 
 council chambers of the nation, to all places of jurisdic- 
 tion and of honor, to the temples wherein were enshrined 
 historic names and glorious memories, to a share in all 
 
 blessings of pri\'ilcge and freedom Before him 
 
 opened another way. No gleam of sunshine illumined 
 this way ; it was wet with tears — it was overshadowed 
 by misfortune — it zuas pointed out to the young traveller of 
 life by the sign of the cross, and he who entered it was bid- 
 den to leave all hope behind him, for it led through the 
 valley of humiliation, into the heart of a fallen race, and 
 an enslaved and afflicted people. I claim for O'Connell 
 the glory of having chosen this latter path, and this claim 
 no man can gainsay, for it is the argument of the Apostle 
 in favor of the great lawgiver of old — "By faith Moses 
 denied himself to be the son of Pharoah's daughter." 
 . . . . Into this way was he led by his love for his re- 
 ligion and his country. He firmly believed in that religion 
 in which he was born. He had that faith which is com- 
 mon to all Catholics, and which is not merely a strong 
 opinion nor even a conviction, but an absolute and most 
 certain knowledge that the Catholic Church is the one 
 and the only true messenger and witness of God upon 
 
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 earth ; and that to belong to her communion and to 
 possess her faith is the first and greatest of all endow- 
 ments and privileges, before which everything else sinks 
 
 into absolute nothing He was Irish of the Irish 
 
 and Catholic of the Catholic. His love for religion and 
 country was as the breath of his nostrils, the blood of his 
 veins, and when he brought to the service of both the 
 strength of his faith and the power of his genius, with the 
 instinct of a true Irishman, his first thought was to lift up 
 the nation by striking the chains off the National Church. 
 And here again, two ways opened before him. One was 
 a way of danger and of blood, and the history of his 
 country told him that it ever ended in defeat and in great 
 •;vil. . . . He saw that the effort to walk in it had swept 
 away the last vestige of Ireland's national legislature and 
 independence. But another path was still open to him, 
 and wisdom pointed it out as " the right way." Another 
 battle-field lay before him on which he could *' fight the 
 good fight" and vindicate all the rights of his religion and 
 of his country. The armory was furnished by the in- 
 spired Apostle when he said :....*' Having your 
 loins girt about with truth, and having on the breast- 
 plate of justice, and your feet shod with the preparation 
 of the Gospel of Peace, in all things taking the shield of 
 
 faith And take unto you the sword of the 
 
 Spirit, which is the Word." O'Connell knew well that 
 such weapons in such a hand as his were irresistible — 
 that girt around with the truth and justice of his cause, 
 he was clad in the armor of the Eternal God, that with 
 words of peace and order on his lips, with the strong 
 shield of faith before him and the sword of eloquent 
 speech in his hand, with the war-cry of obedience, prin- 
 ciple, and law, no power on earth could resist him. for it is 
 the battle of God, and nothing can resist the Most High. 
 
 * 
 
 ¥i 
 
 ■A 
 
 ^- 
 
 . . . . He who was the Church's liberator and 
 most true son, was also the first of Ireland's states- 
 men and patriots. Our people remember well, as their 
 
 A 
 
 V 
 
and to 
 endow- 
 sC sinks 
 ic Irish 
 ion and 
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 3th the 
 :ith the 
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 !^hiirch. 
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 i swept 
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 to him, 
 Another 
 ^ht the 
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 brcast- 
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 0r and 
 
 states- 
 
 ls their 
 
 f 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 281 
 
 future historian will faithfully record, the many trials 
 borne for them, the many victories gained in their 
 cause, the great life devoted to them by O'Conncll. 
 Lying, however, at the foot of the altar, as he is to-day, 
 whilst the Church hallows his grave with prayer and 
 sacrifice, it is more especially as the Catholic Emanci-' 
 pator of his people that we place a garland on his tomb. 
 It is as the child of the Church that we honor him, and 
 recall with tears of sorrow our recollections of the aged 
 man, revered, beloved, whom all the glory of the world's 
 admiration and the nation's love had never lifted up in 
 soul out of the holy atmosphere of Christian humility and 
 simpHcity. Obedience to tlie Church's laws, quick zeal 
 for her honor ^nd the dignity of her worship, a spirit of 
 penance refinuig whilst it expiated, chastening while it 
 ennobled all that was natural in the man ; constant and 
 frequent use of the Church's holy sacraments which shed 
 the halo of grace around his venerated head, — these were 
 the last grand lessons which he left to his people, and 
 thus did the sun of his life set in the glory of Christian 
 holiness. 
 
 . . . . In the triumph of Catholic Emancipation, 
 he pointed out to the Irish people the true secret of their 
 strength, the true way of progress, and the sure road to 
 victory. . . . Time, which buries in utter oblivion so 
 many names and so many memories, will exalt him in his 
 work. The day has already dawned and is ripening into 
 its perfect noon, when Irishmen of every creed will re- 
 member O'Connell, and celebrate him as the common 
 friend, and the greatest benefactor of their country. 
 What man is there, even of those whom our age has called 
 great, whose name, so many years after his death, could 
 summon so many loving hearts around his tomb? We, 
 to-day, arc the representatives not only of a nation but 
 of a race. . . . Where is the land that has not seen 
 the face of our people and heard their voice? And wher- 
 ever, even to the ends of the earth, an Irishman is found 
 to-day, his spirit and his sympathy arc here. The millions 
 
 i 
 I 
 
 
 I 
 
 10 
 
 1 
 11 
 
1" 
 
 .^tt 
 
 aaa 
 
 282 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 of America arc with us— the Irish Catholic soldier on 
 India's plains is present amongst us by the magic of love 
 — the Irish sailor standing by the wheel this moment in 
 far-off silent seas, where it is night, and the Southern stars 
 are shining, joins his prayer with ours, and recalls the 
 glorious image and the venerated name of O'Connell. 
 . . . He is gone, but his fame shall live forever on the 
 earth, as a lover of God and of His people. Adversities, 
 political and religious, he had many, and like a 
 
 " Tower of strength 
 Which stood full square to all the winds that blow," 
 
 the Hercules of justice and of liberty stood up against 
 them. Time, which touches all things with mellowing 
 hand, has softened the recollections of past contests, and 
 they who once looked upon him as a foe, now only re- 
 member the glory of the fight, and the mighty genius of 
 him who stood forth the representative man of his race, 
 and the champion of his people. They acknowledge his 
 greatness, and they join hands with us to weave the gar- 
 land of his fame. 
 
 But far other, higher and holier are the feelings of Irish 
 Catholics all the world over to-day. They recognize in 
 the dust which we are assembled to honor, the powerful 
 arm which promoted them, the eloquent tongue which 
 proclaimed their rights and asserted their freedom, the 
 strong hand which, like that of the Maccabees of old, first 
 struck off their chains and then built up their holy altars. 
 They, mingling the supplication of prayer and the grati- 
 tude of suffrage with their tears, recall — oh ! with how 
 much love— the memory of him who was a Joseph to 
 Israel — their tower of strength, their buckler, and their 
 shield — who shed around their homes, their altars, and 
 their graves the sacred light of religious liberty, and the 
 glory of unfettered worship. " His praise is in the 
 Church," and this is the pledge of the immortality of his 
 glory. '* A people's voice " may be '' the proof and echo 
 of all human fame," but the voice of the undying Church, 
 
 ^ 
 
 4 
 
 i 
 
" ii * 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 283 
 
 dicr on 
 of love 
 mcnt in 
 rn stars 
 ;alls the 
 ^onncU. 
 on the 
 ersitics, 
 
 agamst 
 llowing- 
 its, and 
 )nly rc- 
 mius of 
 is race, 
 dgc his 
 he gar- 
 
 of Irish 
 ;^nize in 
 3\verful 
 
 which 
 3m, the 
 Id, first 
 
 altars. 
 2 grati- 
 :h how 
 eph to 
 d their 
 rs, and 
 md the 
 in the 
 ■ of his 
 d echo 
 Church, 
 
 h 
 
 is the echo of "everlasting glory," and, when those who 
 surround his grave to-day shall have j)assed away, all 
 future generations of Irislimcn to the end of time will be 
 reminded of his name and glory. 
 
 THE INDULGENCE OF PORTIUNCUIA. 
 
 TowARi:)S the middle of the fourth century, four pil- 
 grims from Palestine came to settle in the neighborhood 
 of Assisi, and built a chapel there. Nearly two cen- 
 turies after, this little chai)cl passed into the hands of 
 the monks of St. Benedict, who owned some lots, ov por- 
 tions of land, in the vicinity, whence came the name ot 
 Portmucula, given first to those little plots of ground, 
 and afterwards to the chapel itself. St. Bonaventure 
 says that, later still, it was called " Our Lady of ^Angels," 
 because the heavenly spirits frequently appeared there. 
 
 St. Francis, at the oulset of his penitential life, going 
 one day through the fields about Assisi, heard a voice 
 which said to him : " Go, repair my house ! " He thought 
 the Lord demanded of him to repair the sanctuaries in 
 which lie was worshipped, and, amongst others, the 
 Church of St. Damian, a little way from Assisi, which 
 was falling to decay. 
 
 He went to work, therefore, begging in the streets of 
 Assisi, and crying out : " He who giveth me a stone shall 
 have one blessing — he who giveth me two, shall have 
 two." 
 
 Meanwhile, Francis often bent his steps towards the 
 little chapel of the Portiuncula, built about half a league 
 from Assisi, in a fertile valley, in the midst of a profound 
 solitude. The place had great charms for him, and he 
 resolved to take up his abode there, but as the little 
 chapel w\as urgently in need of repair, he undertook to 
 do it, following, as he thought, the orders he had re- 
 
 1 
 
 n 
 
 m 
 
 !>', 
 
 > 
 
1 1 1 
 
 284 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 ccivctl from Heaven. lie made himself a cell in the 
 hollow of a neii^hboring rock, and there spent several 
 years in great austerities. Some disciples, having joined 
 him, inhal)ited caverns which they found in the rocks 
 around, and some built themselves cells. This was the 
 origin of the Order of St. Francis. The Portiuncnla, or 
 Our Lady of Angels, afterwards given to the holy peni- 
 tent by the Benedictine Abbot of Monte Soubasio, thus 
 became the cradle of the three orders founded by the 
 Seraphic Patriarch, and is unspeakably dear to every 
 child of St. Francis.^ 
 
 Francis, in the midst of his prodigious austerities, 
 living always in the greatest privation, united, neverthe- 
 less, the most tender compassion for men and a marvel- 
 lous love for poverty. Fie prayed above all, and with 
 tears and groans, for the conversion of sinners. But one 
 night — it was in October, 1221 — Francis being inspired 
 with a greater love and a deeper pity for men who were 
 offending their God and Saviour, shedding torrents of 
 tears, macerating his body, already attenuated by excess- 
 ive mortifications, hears, all at once, the voice of an 
 Angel commanding him to repair to the chapel of the 
 Portiuncula. Ravished with joy, he rises immediately, 
 and entering with profound respect into the chapel, he 
 falls prostrate on the ground, to adore the majesty of 
 God. FIc then sees Our Lord Jesus Christ, who appears 
 to him, accompanied by His Holy Mother and a great 
 multitude of Angels, and says to him : " Francis, thou and 
 thy brethren have a great zeal for the salvation of souls ; 
 indeed, you have been placed as a torch in the world and 
 as the support of the Church. Ask, then, whatsoever 
 
 ' The little clinnel of the Portiuncula is now inclosed beneath the dome 
 of tlic f?re;it basilica of Our Lad3-of Angels, built to preserve it from the in- 
 juries of the weather. It stands there still with its rough, antique walls, in 
 all (lie prestige of its marvellous past. "I know not what perfume of holy 
 povert3'," says a i)ious author, "exhales from that venerable chapel. Tiic 
 pavement within is literally worn b}' the knees of the pious faithful, and 
 their repeated and burning kisses have left their imprint on its walls." 
 
 yJb 
 
 ^^ 
 
in the 
 several 
 
 joined 
 
 roeks 
 vas the 
 Ilia, or 
 y peni- 
 o, thus 
 by the 
 
 every 
 
 critics, 
 verthe- 
 narvel- 
 d with 
 Jut one 
 ispired 
 o were 
 ents of 
 cxcess- 
 of an 
 of the 
 liately, 
 pel, he 
 esty of 
 ppears 
 great 
 ou and 
 souls ; 
 Id and 
 soever 
 
 le dome 
 1 the in- 
 valls, in 
 of holy 
 1. The 
 ful, and 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 ?Si 
 
 thou wilt for the welfare and consolation of nations, and 
 for My glory." 
 
 In the midst of the wonders which ravished liim, 
 Francis made this prayer : " Our most holy Father, I 
 beseech Thee, althougli I am but a miserable sinner, to 
 have the goodness to grant to men, that all those who 
 shall visit this Church may receive a plenary indulgence 
 of all their sins, after having confessed to a priest; and I 
 beseech the Blessed Virgin, Thy Mother, the advocate of 
 mankind, to intercede, that 1 may obtain this favor." 
 
 The merciful Virgin interceded, and Our Lord said to 
 Fiancis : "What thou dost ask is great, nevertheless 
 thou shalt receive still greater favors. I grant it to thee, 
 but I v.ill that it be ratified on earth by him to whom I 
 have given the power of binding and loosening." 
 
 The companions of the Saint overheard this colloquy 
 between Our Lord and St. Francis ; they beheld numer- 
 ous troops of Angels, and a great light that filled the 
 Church, but a respectful fear prevented them from ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 Next day Francis set out, accompanied by one of his 
 brethren, and repaired to Perugia, where Pope Hono- 
 rius in. then was. The Saint, introduced to the Pon- 
 tiff, repeated the order he had received from Our Lord 
 Jesus Christ Mimself, and conjured him not to refuse 
 what the vSon of God had been pleased to grant him. 
 
 *' But," said the Sovereign Pontiff, " thou askest of me 
 something very great, and the Roman Court is not wont 
 to grant such an indulgence." " ^lost Holy Father," re- 
 plied Francis, " I ask it not of myself; it is Jesus Christ 
 who scndeth me. I come on Plis behalf." Wherefore the 
 Pope said publicly three times : " / zvill that thou Jiavc it!' 
 
 The Cardinals made several objections ; but Ilonorius, 
 at length convinced of the will of God, granted most lib- 
 erally, most gratuitously, and in perpetuity, this indul- 
 gence solicited so earnestly, yet with so much humility, 
 but only diiriiio; one natural day, from evening till evening^ in- 
 cluding the night, till sunset on the folio 
 
 n 
 
I A" 
 
 286 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 At these words, Francis humbly bowed his head. As 
 he wasi^oiii*;' away, (he Pope deinanded of hiin : " Whither 
 goest thou, simple man? What assurance liast thou ot 
 that which ihou liast obtained?" " Holy Father," he re- 
 plied, "thy word is sullicient for me; if this Indulgence 
 be the work of God, He Himself will make it manifest. 
 Let jesus Christ, His holy Mother and the Angels be in 
 that rei^ard, notary, paper and witness ; 1 ask no other 
 authentic act." wSuch was the effect of the great con- 
 fidence he felt in the truth of the apparition. 
 
 The Indulg-ence of the Fortiuncula had been two years 
 granted, and still the day when the faithful migb.t gain it 
 was not hxed. Francis waited till Jesus Christ, the hrst 
 Author of a grace so precious, should determine it. 
 
 Meanwhile, one night, when Francis was at prayer in 
 his cell, the tempter suggested to him to diminish his pen- 
 ances : feeling the malice of the demon, he goes into the 
 woods, and rolls himself amongst briers and thorns until 
 he is covered with blood. A ixi*eat liij-ht shines around 
 him, he sees a quantity of Vvhite and red roses all about, 
 although it is the month of Januar}^, in a very severe 
 winter. God had changed the thorny shrubs into magnifi- 
 cent rose-bushes, which have ever since remained green 
 and v»ithout thorns, and covered with red and white 
 roses.' Angels, wdio appeared then in great numbers, 
 said to him : " Francis, hasten to the church ; Jesus is there 
 with His holy Mother." At the same moment, he was 
 clothed in a spotless white habit, and having reached the 
 church, after a profound obeisance, he made this prayer: 
 " Our Father, Most Holy Lord of heaven and earth, 
 wSavionr of mankind, vouchsafe, through Thy great 
 mercy, to fix the day for the Lidulgence Thou hast had 
 the goodness to grant." Our Lord replied that He would 
 have it to be from the evening of the day on which the 
 Apostle St. Peter was bound with chains till the follow- 
 
 ' " Wc liave received from Rome," sha's tlie editor of (he " Alniannc of the 
 Souls ill Purgatory," "some leaves from these miraculous rose-bushes, Wc 
 will willingly give some to the devout clients of St. Francis." 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 287 
 
 kI. As 
 Vliitlicr 
 :Iiou of 
 ' he rc- 
 il^cnce 
 aiiifcst. 
 s bo in 
 otlicr 
 Lit con- 
 
 ) years 
 ^aiii it 
 le fust 
 
 lycr ill 
 lis pcn- 
 n(() the 
 IS until 
 around 
 
 about, 
 severe 
 ia<^nili- 
 
 grccn 
 
 white 
 mbers, 
 s there 
 le was 
 ed the 
 rayer : 
 earth, 
 
 great 
 it had 
 would 
 ;h the 
 3llo\v- 
 
 c of I lie 
 cs. We 
 
 ing (lay. lie then ordered Francis to present himself to 
 his vicar, and give him some white and red roses in proof 
 of the truth of the fact, and to bring some of his comi)an- 
 ions wlio might bear testimony of what they had lieard. 
 
 The Poi)e, convinced by proofs so inc(jntestable, con- 
 lirmed the Indulgence witli all its privileges. 
 
 The Indulgence of the Portiuncula, was soon known 
 throughout the whole world; and the prodigies wiiich 
 were seen wrought every year at St. Mary of Angels, 
 excited the devotion of the faithful to gain it. Many 
 times there were seen tiiei'c hfty thousand, and even a 
 hundred thousand persons assembled together from all 
 l)arts. 
 
 Meanwhile, in order to facilitate the means of gaining 
 an Indulgence so admirable, the Sovereign Pontiffs ex- 
 tended it to all the churches of the three Orders of St. 
 Francis, and it may be gained by all the faithful indis- 
 criminately. "Of all Indulgences," said Bourdaloue^ 
 " that of the Portiuncula is one of the surest and most 
 authentic that there is in the Church, since it is an Indul- 
 gence granted immediately by Jesus Christ, a privilege 
 peculiar to itself, and this Indulgence has spread amongst 
 all Christian people with a marvellous progress of souls, 
 and a sensible increase of piety." 
 
 The Indulgence of the Great Pardon has another very 
 special privilege ; it is, that it may be gained /o/ics quotics 
 — that is to say. ■\\> often as one visits a church to which it 
 is attached, and p, ays for the Sovereign Pontiff; and this 
 privilege may be enjoyed from the ist of August about 
 two o'clock in the afternoon, till sunset on the following 
 day. 
 
 Pope 13oniface VIII. said that it is "most pious to gain 
 that Indulgence several times for oneself; for, although 
 by the first gaining of a plenary Indulgence, the penalty 
 be remitted, by seeking to gain it again, one receives an 
 augmentation of grace and of glory that crowns all their 
 good works." Besides, this Indulgence can be applied to 
 the Souls ill Purgatory, as it can be also gained for the 
 
1 
 
 i- 
 
 288 
 
 rURGATOKY. 
 
 living by way of satisfaction, provided they be in the state 
 of grace. 
 
 It was one day revealed to St. Margaret of Cortona 
 that tlie Souls in Purgatory eagerly look forward every 
 year to the Feast of Our Lady of Angels, because it is a 
 day of deliverance for a great number of them. 
 
 While s[)eakiiig of the indulgence of the J'ortiuncula, 
 we are naturally disposed to say a few words in regard to 
 the grievous outrage recently committed on that ])lace, 
 venerated for more than six hundred years by all Chris- 
 tian nations, and manifestly chosen as the object of divine 
 predilection by all the prodigies there wrought. 
 
 Tiie Italian government had unlawfully, and in a sacri- 
 legious manner, possessed itself of the Convent of the Por- 
 tiuncula; and notwithstanding the protest of all the mem- 
 bers of the Order of wSt. Francis, and the indignation excited 
 by so arbitrary an act in every Catholic heart, those iniqui- 
 tous men put it up for sale, and actually sold it by public 
 auction. The Minister General of the Franciscan Order, 
 unwilling that this brightest gem of the Franciscan crown 
 should fall into impious hands, resolved to have it pur- 
 chased for him by a lay person. But how w^as this to be 
 done, when he had no revenue, often not means enough 
 for necessary expenses? a grave question, truly, for the 
 children of St. F^rancis, who might have seen themselves 
 bereft of the cradle of their Order, were it not that, at the 
 critical moment, a man of a truly Christian heart came 
 forward and advanced the thirty-four thcjusand francs, 
 the price to which their precious relic had been raised. 
 Thus, God would not permit that so many memories con- 
 nected with His servant Francis should be effaced from 
 the earth, although they would still have lived in the 
 hearts of his children, and the Friars Minors are still the 
 owners and possessors of that venerable sanctuary.' — 
 Almanac of t lie Soids in Purgatory, 1881. 
 
 ' Nevertheless, means must be taken to pay back this sum so season- 
 ably advanced. Hence it is, that at the request of the Minister General ct 
 the Franciscans, Father Marie, of Brest, has made u touching appeal to all 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 289 
 
 CATHERINE OF CARDONA. 
 
 Catiierixk of Cardoxa was born in the very lush- 
 est rank. She was but eii^lit )ears old wlicn she lost her 
 father, Jvaymoncl of Cardona, who was deseendetl irotn 
 the kings of Arai^on. Catherine had aheady made hei- 
 self remarkable by her love of prayer, solitude, and mor- 
 tilieation, and by her admirable fidelity to <;race she had 
 drawn down uj:)on herself, at an age still so tender, the 
 signal favor of Heaven. 
 
 One day, whilst abs()rl)ed in prayer in her little oratory, 
 her father aj)])eared to her enveloped in the flames of 
 Purgatory, and, eonjuring her to deliver him, he said to 
 her: "Daughter, 1 shall remain in this tire until thou 
 hast done penanec for me." With a heart full of ct)m- 
 passion, Catherine promised her father to satisfy the 
 divine justice for him, and the vision disai)peared. 
 
 From that moment Catherine, rising above the weak- 
 ness of her age and sex, ai)[)lied herself to those amazing 
 austerities which have made her a prodigy of penance. 
 To open Heaven to her father, she freely sheds, in bloody 
 scourgings, the first fruits of that virginal blood which is 
 to flow for half a century in innumerable torments. Mag- 
 nanimous child, she is already the martyr of filial piety, 
 but her tears, her mortifications, her prayers have dis- 
 armed the divine justice and discharged the paternal 
 debt. Raymond, resplendent with the glory of the 
 blessed, appears again to his daughter, and addresses her 
 in these words : '* God has accepted thy penance, my 
 daughter, and I go to enjoy His glory. By that penance, 
 thou hast become so pleasing to Jesus Christ that He 
 has chosen thee for His spouse. Continue all thy life to 
 
 friends of llie Order and of iiistice, and has opened sul)scription lists 
 wherever there are cliildren of St. Francis, and there are cliiidren of St. 
 Francis all over the world. 
 
 These lists, with the names of the pious donors, shall be sent to Assi- 
 sium, to be preserved there in thj very sanctuary of the I'orliuncula, — Ed. Al. 
 
 )' 
 
1 — :z. 
 
 290 
 
 rURGATOUV. 
 
 immolate thyself as a victim for tlic salvation of souls ; 
 such is His divine will." 
 
 With these words, which filled the heart of Catherine 
 with joy unspeakable, he i^oes to Heaven to sin<^ the 
 mercies of his God, and to intercede with Him, in his 
 turn, for the beloved daun^hter who was his libeiator. 
 
 Oh! happy, thrice hapi)y Catheiine! Whilst accom- 
 j)lishin^ anact of filial l)iety, she j^ained the title of Spouse 
 of Christ, and secured for herself a i)owerlul intercessor 
 in heaven. — Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory, 1881. 
 
 The life of the little Catherine was so admirable that 
 we cannot resist the desire of ^ivint^ some extracts from 
 it here. It will be so much the more approi)riate that 
 her whole life was consecrated to the relief of the souls 
 in l'ur<^atory and the salvation of men. 
 
 Overwhelmed with the happiness of secinj^ herself 
 chosen for the spouse of the God of Virf^ins, Catherine 
 consecrates herself entirely to Him, and promises invio- 
 lable fidelity to Him. Rejoiced to belong to the same 
 wSpouse as the Agathas and iVgnesses, she makes a vow of 
 perpetual virginity, and exclaims in the fullness of her 
 bliss: '' Thou alone, mine Adorable Beloved, Thou alone 
 shalt reign over my heart. Thou alone shalt have dominion 
 over it for all eternity ! " Then Jesus invisibly places on 
 her finger the marriage ring, and endows with strength 
 her who aspires only to die with Him on the cross. 
 
 Catherine, who, after the death of her father, was placed 
 under the care of the Princess of Salerno, a near relative 
 of her mother, leads in the palace of the princess a life no 
 less rigorous than that of the penitents of the desert ; but 
 she \vill have no other witness of it than He by whom 
 she alone desires to be loved. Condemned by her rank 
 to wear rich clothing, she values only the glorious vest- 
 ure of the soul, which is grace. The hair-cloth that 
 macerates her flesh is her chosen garment. At that age, 
 when people allow themselves to be dazzled by the world, 
 Catherine of Cardona has trampled it beneath her feet, 
 and later on, becoming entirely free from the slavery of 
 
if souls ; 
 
 illicrinc 
 ■;in^ the 
 I, ill his 
 tor. 
 
 accom- 
 " Spouse 
 crccssor 
 I. 
 
 iblc that 
 jts iVoiu 
 ate that 
 he souls 
 
 ; herself 
 atherinc 
 :)s invio- 
 he same 
 a vow of 
 s of her 
 ou alone 
 ominiou 
 flaces oil 
 strength 
 ss. 
 
 s placed 
 i-clative 
 a life no 
 2vi ; hut 
 y whom 
 ler rank 
 tus vcst- 
 3th that 
 lat age, 
 c world, 
 ler feet, 
 I very of 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 291 
 
 the world, she retires to the Capuchin Convent at 
 Naples, and there prepares, by a seclusion of twenty-live 
 years, to give to the great ones of the earth an cx:imi)le 
 of the most sublime virtues. Called by the l^rincess of 
 Salerno to share her disfavor with the king, she hesitates 
 not to quit her dear solitude, and repairs to Spain, in 
 1557. Her presence at Valladolid was an eloquent ser- 
 mon, and produced the happiest fruits in souls. The 
 Princess died at the end ol two years; and i'hili|) II., 
 knowing the wisdom of Catherine, kept her at the Court, 
 appointing her as governess to Don Carlos, his son, and 
 the young Don Juan of Austria, afterwards the hero of 
 Lepanto. 
 
 In 1562, Our Lord, in a vision, says to Catherine : " De- 
 part from this palace ; retire to a solitary cave, where 
 thou mayest more freely apply thyself to ])rayer and pen- 
 ance." At these words, the soul of Catherine is inun- 
 dated with' joy, and she feels that no worldly obstacle 
 could restrain her. She would fain set out forthwith, 
 but her spiritual guides opi^osed her doing so. Finally, 
 after many trials, whilst she was in prayer, before the 
 dawn, the crucifix she wore hanging from her neck, sud- 
 denly rose into the air, and said : " Follow me ! " She 
 followed it to a window on the ground-lloor ; and al- 
 though it was fastened with great iron bars, Catherine, 
 without knowing how, found herself in the street. Trans- 
 ported with joy at this new miracle, she flew to the place 
 where the Mermit of Alcada and another priest were 
 waiting to conduct her to the desert. Seeing the heroic 
 virgin, they blessed Mim who had thus broken her chains. 
 In order that she might not be recognized they cut off 
 her hair, gave her a hermit's robe, and set out without 
 delay. Arriving at a small hill about four leagues from 
 Roda, Catherine said to her guides : " Ilere it is that 
 God will have me take up my abode ; let us go no farther." 
 After a careful search they discovered amongst thorny 
 hedges difficult to get through, a species of grotto suf- 
 ficiently deep ; but the entrance thereto \yu3 so narrow. 
 
 f 
 
 
 il 
 
 JW 
 
'WE mmmm i»at <mmmMMJ sbM,,^^ 
 
 292 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 and the roof so low, that Catherine, who was of medium 
 height and rather full figure, eould hardly stand upright 
 in it. The two guides of the holy recluse, taking leave 
 of her, Iclt her some instruments of penance, and three 
 loaves, for all provision. There it was that the daughter 
 of the Duke of Cardona commenced, in 1562, that admir- 
 able life which has been the wonder of all succeedin"; a";es. 
 
 Teresa, the seraphic Teresa, who lived at that time not 
 far from Catherine's solitude, cried out in a transport of 
 admiration: " Oh ! how great must be the love that trans- 
 ported her, since she thought neither of food, nor dan- 
 ger, nor the disgrace her flight might bring upon her ; 
 what must be the intoxication of that holy soul, flying 
 thus to the desert, solely engrossed by the desire of en- 
 joying there without obstacle the presence of her Spouse! 
 And how firm must be her resolution to break with the 
 world, since she thus fled from all its pleasures ! " 
 
 St. Teresa adds that Catherine spent more than eight 
 years in this desert cave, that after having exhausted the 
 small provision of three loaves left her by the hermit who 
 had served her as a guide, she had lived solely on roots 
 and wild herbs, but that, after several years, she met with 
 a shepherd, who thenceforward faithfully supplied her 
 with bread, of which she, nevertheless, ate but once in 
 three days. The discipline which she took with a large 
 cliain lasted often for an hour and a half, and sometimes 
 two hours. Her hair-cloth was so rough that a woman, 
 returning from a pilgrimage, having asked hospitality of 
 her, told me (it is still St. Teresa v/ho speaks), that feign- 
 ing sleep, she saw the holy recluse take off her hair-cloth 
 and wi})e it clean, for it was full of blood. The warfare 
 she had to sustain against the demons made her suffer still 
 more than her austerities ; she told our sisters that they 
 appeared to her, now in the form of great dogs who 
 sprang on her shoulders, and now in that of snakes ; but 
 do as they might, they could not make her afraid. 
 
 She heard Mass in a convent of the Sisters of Mercy, a 
 quarter of a league distant ; sometimes she made the 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 293 
 
 ncclium 
 upright 
 ig leave 
 d three 
 aughter 
 t admir- 
 ng ages, 
 time not 
 sport of 
 it trans- 
 or dan- 
 on her ; 
 I, flying 
 e of en- 
 Spousc! 
 ,vith the 
 
 m eight 
 
 sted the 
 
 mit who 
 
 on roots 
 
 net with 
 
 ied her 
 
 once in 
 
 a hirge 
 
 netimcs 
 
 woman, 
 
 ality of 
 
 it feign- 
 
 ir-cloth 
 
 warfare 
 
 Ter still 
 
 at they 
 
 ofs who 
 
 but 
 
 t3 
 
 es 
 
 ft 
 
 Fcrcv, a, 
 idc the 
 
 journey on her knees. She wore a tunic of coarse serge, 
 and over that a robe of drugget so fashioned that she was 
 taken for a man. 
 
 Nevertheless, the fame of her sanctity soon spread 
 everywhere, and the people conceived so great a venera- 
 tion for her that they flocked from every side, so that, on 
 certain days, the surrounding country was covered with 
 vehicles full of people going to see her. 
 
 "About this time," says St. Teresa," she was seized 
 with a great desire to found near her cave a monastery of 
 religious, but being undecided in her choice of the order, 
 she postponed for a time the execution of her design. 
 One day while at prayer before a crucifix which she 
 always carried about her, Our Lord showed her a white 
 mantle, and gave her to luiderstand that she was to found 
 a monastery of barefooted Carmelites. She knew not 
 till then that such an order existed, as she had never 
 heard it mentioned ; indeed, we had then but two monas- 
 teries of reformed Carmelites, that of Moncera and that 
 of Pastrana. Catherine was speedily informed of the 
 existence of this last. As Pastrana belonged to the Prin- 
 cess of Eboli, her former friend, she set out for that town 
 with the firm resolution of doing what Our Lord had 
 enjoined her to do. It was at Pastrana, in the church of 
 our religious, that the Blessed Catherine took the habit of 
 Our Lady of Mount Carniel, having no intentio." not- 
 withstanding that act, to embrace the religious life. (>ur 
 Lord conducted her by another way, and she never felt 
 any attraction towards that state. What kept her away 
 from it was the fear of being obliged through obedience 
 to moderate her austerities and quit her solitude." 
 
 As she had worn man's apparel ever since she had been 
 in the desert, she would not now change it. vSo, in laying 
 aside her hermit's robe, and assuming that of Carmel, she 
 took a habit like that of the barefooted Carmelite monks, 
 and wore it till her last breath. In this Catherine was 
 led by a very special way. 
 
 Catherine had been preceded at Pastrana by the 
 
 I 
 
^^■<^• 
 
 , 
 
 294 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I i 
 
 account of the wonders which had marked the eight years 
 she had spent in her cave ; she was thus greeted as a 
 saint as soon as she appeared ; no one was surprised to 
 see her in her Carmelite habit, a cowl on her head, a 
 white mantle on her shoulders, a robe of coarse drugget, 
 and a leathern girdle. God permitted the appearance of 
 Catherine at the court of Philip II. as a virgin with the 
 heart of a man, victorious over all the weakness of her 
 sex, and rivalling in her austerities the most famous peni- 
 tents of the desert. At the Escurial, she observed the 
 same abstinence as in her hermitage ; there, as in her 
 cave, she took but one hour's sleep, and gave to prayer 
 the rest of the time at her disposal. 
 
 From the Escurial, Catherine returned to Madrid. 
 From the carriage in which she rode, she gave her bless- 
 ing to the multitudes who cro\.'ded the road as she passed. 
 . . . The Nuncio, having sent for her, reproached her 
 for wearing the apparel of a man, and for taking it upon 
 her to give her blessing, like a bishop. The humble virgin 
 heard all prostrate on the ground. When the Nuncio had 
 finished speaking, she arose and justified herself with that 
 holy simplicity peculiar to herself. The legate of the 
 Holy See, perceiving then that God was leading the 
 Blessed Catherine by an extraordinary way, left her at 
 liberty to wear that costume, blessed her, and recom- 
 mended himself to her prayers. 
 
 In Madrid Catherine again met Don Juan of Austria, 
 who had been appointed Generalissimo of the Christian 
 fleet directed against the Turks. He gave her .the name 
 of mother, and regarded her as a Saint. After having 
 given some wise counsel to the young prince, she pre- 
 dicted to him that he should obtain a victory over the 
 enemies of the Christian name. It was a happy day in 
 the life of Don Juan on which he heard these prophetic 
 words. Kneeling on the ground, with clasped hands and 
 tearful eyes, the future liberator of Christendom asked 
 Catherine's blessing, and arose with a heart strengthened 
 by an invincible hope. 
 
ht years 
 ted as a 
 riscd to 
 head, a 
 Iriiggct, 
 ranee of 
 vith the 
 ;s of her 
 •us peni- 
 vecl the 
 ; in her 
 D prayer 
 
 Madrid. 
 
 er bless- 
 
 ! passed. 
 
 hed her 
 
 it upon 
 
 le virgin 
 
 icio had 
 
 ^ith that 
 
 c of the 
 
 ling the 
 
 her at 
 
 recom- 
 
 L'Vustria, 
 hristian 
 le name 
 
 having 
 she pre- 
 ver the 
 
 day in 
 
 ophetic 
 
 ids and 
 
 asked 
 
 jthened 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 J95 
 
 The Carmelites of Toledo, amongst whom she spent 
 some time, endeavoring to persuade her to diminish her 
 austerities a little, she replied in these memorable words, 
 which reveal to us the secret of her life : " When one has 
 seen, as I have, what Purgatory and Hell are, one cannot 
 do too much to draw souls from one, and preserve them 
 from the other ; I may not spare myself, since I have 
 offered myself in sacrifice for them." 
 
 On the 7th October, 1571, Catherine was warned by a 
 light from above that the great combat against the Turks 
 was to take place that day. She macerated herself with 
 fearful rigor, and offered herself as a victim to the anger 
 of God, justly indignant at the sins of His people. She 
 addressed to the Saviour of men the most tender sui)pli- 
 cations, when, all at once, seized with a holy transport, 
 she uttered in a distinct voice these words, whit i were 
 heard by several persons of the Court: " O Lta-d, the 
 hour is come, help Thy Church ; give the victory to the 
 Catholic chiefs ; have pity on so many kingdoms which 
 are Thine own, preserve them from ruin ! The wind is 
 against us : my God, if Thou order it not to change, we 
 perish ! " 
 
 Some time after, she cried out in a still stronger voice : 
 " Blessed be Thou, O Lord, Thou hast changed the wind 
 at the needful moment; finish what Thou hast begun!" 
 After these words she prayed in silence for a long space 
 of time. Then, starting up joyfully, she offered to God 
 the most lively thanksgivings for the victory He had just 
 granted to His Church. 
 
 Soon, in fact, the news of the victory of Lepanto con- 
 firmed the miraculous vision of Catherine. Don Juan 
 wrote immediately to the venerable Catherine of Car- 
 dona, thanking her for her prayers, and sent her, as a 
 memento, some spoils taken from the enemy. 
 
 Catherine having received, at the Court and elsewhere, 
 sufficient means to found her mona:,tery, regained her 
 solitude in the month of March, 1572. She lived there 
 five years longer. It has been considered as a supernat- 
 
 f 
 
 -H 1 
 
296 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 iiral thing that mortifications so extraordinary as hers had 
 not ended her life sooner. She died on the nth of May, 
 
 1577- 
 " One day," says St. Teresa, " after havinj^ received 
 
 communion in the church of this monastery (that which 
 Catherine had founded \, I entered into a profound recol- 
 lection, which was soon followed by an ecstasy. Whilst I 
 was thus ravished out of myself, that holy woman ap- 
 peared to my intellectual vision, resplendent with light 
 like a glorified body, and surrounded by angels. She 
 said to me : * Weary not of founding monasteries, but 
 rather pursue that work with ardor.' I understood, 
 albeit that she did not say so, that she was assisting mc 
 with God. This apparition left me exceedingly com- 
 forted, and inflamed with the desire of working for Our 
 Lord's glory. Hence, I hope from His divine goodness 
 and the powerful prayers of that Saint, that I may be 
 able to do something for His service." 
 
 THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS PRAYING FOR HIS MOTHER. 
 
 Heretics or Schismatics care very little about contra- 
 dicting themselves. It is of the nature of the iniquity of 
 lying. The Ami dc la Religion, of March i, 1851, judi- 
 ciously observes : 
 
 " It is well known that the Russian Church pretends 
 not to admit the doctrine of l\irgatory, which one of its 
 principal prelates set down as ^a crude modern invention' 
 Nevertheless, the manifesto recently published by the 
 Emperor Nicholas, on the death of his mother, the Grand 
 Duchess Elizabeth, Duchess of Nassau, concludes with 
 these words : * We are convinced that all our faithful sub- 
 jects will unite their prayers with ours, for the repose of 
 the soul of the deceased.' How are we to reconcile this 
 request for prayers with the denial of Purgatory, coming 
 as it does from the mouth of the supreme pontiff of the 
 Church of Russia ? — " Christian Anecdotes,'' 
 
hers had 
 of May, 
 
 received 
 lat which 
 lid rccoi- 
 Whilst I 
 )man ap- 
 ith light 
 els. She 
 :ries, but 
 Jerstood, 
 sting me 
 jly com- 
 
 for Our 
 [goodness 
 
 may be 
 
 lOTHER. 
 
 t contra- 
 iquity of 
 I5i,judi- 
 
 iretends 
 ne of its 
 ivcntion' 
 
 by the 
 e Grand 
 cs with 
 iful sub- 
 rcposc of 
 cile this 
 
 coming 
 r of the 
 
 HISTORICAL. 
 
 297 
 
 FUNERAL ORATION ON PIUS VI. 
 
 REV. ARTHUR O'i.EARY, O. S. F. 
 
 Thou hast lifted nic up, and cast mc down. My days are like a shadow 
 that dcclineth, and I am withered like grass; but thou, O Lord, shalt 
 endure forever. — Ps. cii., verses 10, 11, 12. 
 
 Yes! () my God ! You lift up and you cast down ; you 
 humble and you exalt the sons of men. You cut off the 
 breath of princes, and are terrible to the kings of the 
 earth. It is then we know your power, when, by tlie 
 stroke of death, we feel what we arc, that our life is but 
 as a shadow that dcclineth, a vapor dispersed by the 
 beams of the rising sun, or as the grass which loses at 
 noon the verdure it had acquired from the morning dew. 
 It is a truth of which we arc made sensible upon this 
 mournful occasion, and in this sacred temple, where the 
 trophies of death are displayed, and its image rellectcd 
 on every side. The mournful accents of the solemn 
 dirge, the sable drapery that lines these walls, the vest- 
 ments of the ministers of the sacred altar, this artificial 
 darkness which is a figure of the darkness of the grave; — • 
 the tapers that blaze around the sanctuary to i)ut us in 
 mind that when our mortal life is extinct, there is an iin- 
 raortal life beyond the grave, in a kingdom of light 
 and bliss reserved for those who walk on earth by tlie 
 light of the gospel; — that tomb, in which the tiara and 
 the sceptre, the Pontifical dignity, and the power of the 
 temporal i)rince, are covered over with a funeral shroud, — 
 every object that strikes the eye, and every sound that 
 vibrates on the ear, is an awful memento which reminds 
 us of our approaching dissolution, points out the vanity 
 and nothingness of all earthly grandeur, and convinces 
 us that in holiness of life, which unites us to God and 
 secures an immortal crown in the enjoyment of the sover- 
 eign good, consists the greatness as well as the happi- 
 ness of man. An awful truth exemplified in many great 
 
298 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 IP 
 
 characters, hurled from the summit of power and grand- 
 cur into an abyss of woe, whose unshaken virtue sup- 
 ported them under the severest trials, and whose great- 
 ness of soul shone conspicuous in their fall as well as in 
 their elevation. A truth particularly exemplified in His 
 Holiness Pope Pius VI., whose obsequies we are assem- 
 bled to solemnize on this day — Pius VI. great in pros- 
 perity ; Pius VI. great in adversity. 
 
 When his life is written by an impartial hand, when his 
 contemporaries are dead, when history lays open the 
 hidden and mysterious springs of the events connected 
 with his reign, and posterity erects a tribunal, at which it 
 is to judge, without dread of giving offence, then his vir- 
 tues and wisdom will appear in their true light, as the 
 symmetry and proportion of those beautiful statues, 
 which are placed in the porticoes or entrance of temples 
 and public edifices, are better discovered, and seen to a 
 greater advantage at a certain distance. 
 
 Though his life was spotless, yet as the judgments of 
 God are unsearchable, as there is such a quantity of dross 
 mixed with our purest gold, such chaff with our purest 
 grain, our purest virtues tarnished with so many imper- 
 fections, that on appearing in the presence of God, into 
 whose Kingdom the slightest stain is not admitted, who 
 can say, " My soul is pure ; I have nothing to answer for ? " 
 as in our belief, divine justice may inflict temporary as 
 well as eternal punishments beyond the grave, according 
 to the quality of unexpiated offences, let us perform the 
 sacred rites of our holy religion for the repose of his 
 soul.^ 
 
 * These extracts are taken from the funeral oration on Pius VI., de- 
 livered at St. Patrick's Chapel, Soho, in presence of Monsignore Erskine, 
 Papal Auditor, on the i6lh Nov., 1799. 
 
HISTORICAL. 
 
 299 
 
 3 grand- 
 tuc siip- 
 e grcat- 
 cll as in 
 J in His 
 e assem- 
 in pros- 
 
 vhen his 
 pen the 
 >nnected 
 which it 
 his vir- 
 , as the 
 statues, 
 temples 
 een to a 
 
 lents of 
 of dross 
 purest 
 imper- 
 od, into 
 3d, who 
 jrfor?" 
 rary as 
 cordini^ 
 3rm the 
 of his 
 
 I VI., dc- 
 Erskinc, 
 
 P 
 
 I 
 
 FROM THE FUNERAL ORATION ON THE REV. ARTHUR 
 
 O'LEARY, O.S.F. 
 
 RKV. MORGAN D ARCY. 
 
 My brethren, as it is God alone, that searcher of hearts, 
 who can truly appreciate the merits of His elect, as it be- 
 longs only to the Holy Catholic Church, '^ that pillar and 
 ground of truth,'' to canonize them, as we know that nothing 
 impure can enter into heaven, and that Moses himself, that 
 great legislator, and peculiar favorite of heaven, was not 
 entirely spotless in the discharge of his ministry, nor 
 exempt from temporal punishment at his death, let us no 
 longer interrupt the awful mysteries and impressive 
 ceremonies of religion, but, uniting, and, as it were, em- 
 bodying our prayers and fervent supplications, let us 
 offer a holy violence to heaven ; while we mingle our 
 tears with the precious blood of the spotless Victim 
 offered in sacrifice on our hallowed altar, let us implore 
 the Father of Mercies, through the merits and passion of 
 His adorable Son, our merciful Redeemer, to purify this 
 His minister, and admit him to a participation of the never- 
 ending joys of the heavenly Jerusalem. May he rest in 
 peace. A men. 
 
 DE MORTUIS. OUR DECEASED PRELATES. 
 
 [From a Sermon delivered by Most Rev. Archbishop Corrigan, of New 
 York, at the Third Plenary Council of Baltimore.] 
 
 Remember your prelates who have spoken the Word of God to you. 
 Heb. c. xiii, v. 2. 
 
 Of the forty-six Fathers who sat in the Second Plenary 
 Council, only sixteen still survive. More than this. Dur- 
 ing the few years that have since elapsed not only have 
 thirty bishops and archbishops gone to the house of their 
 eternity, but in several instances, their successors, too, 
 have passed away, so that the Solemn Requiem offered 
 
 ■ 
 
 ' 1 
 
 HJ 
 
 I 
 
 h 
 
 li 
 
 h ^1 
 
300 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 this morning for the prelates who have died since the 
 last Council is chanted for forty-two consecrated rulers. 
 For these, " as it is a good and wholesome thought to 
 pray for the dead," we send up our sighs and our prayers 
 in the spirit of fraternal charity, and as a tribute of love 
 and gratitude to our Fathers in the faith who had the 
 burden of the day and the heat, and who now rest from 
 their labors. " Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. 
 From henceforth now, saith the Spirit, . . . for their 
 works follow them." 
 
 In the commemorative services and solemn supplica- 
 tions offered in this cathedral, the first place, dear 
 brethren, is deservedly due to your own lamented arch- 
 bishops. . . . Besides these, memory turns, with fond 
 regret, to a long list of Right Reverend Prelates, who 
 were all present at the late Plenary Council, and who 
 have since, one by one, passed away. ... As we re- 
 peat each well-known name, hosts of pleasant memories 
 come crowding on the mind just as by-gone scenes are 
 awakened to new life by some sweet strain of once 
 familiar music. Venerable forms loom up again before 
 us with the paternal kindness, the distinguished presence, 
 the winning ways we knew so well of old ; and while the 
 vision lasts we seem to hear a still small voice saying : 
 " To-day for me, to-morrow for thee," or the echo of the 
 words spoken by the wise woman of Thecua to the king 
 on his throne : " We all die, and fall down into the earth, 
 like waters that return no more." 
 
 " Star differcth from star in glory." The bishops, whose 
 virtues we commemorate, differed in gifts of mind, in 
 habits of thought, in nationality, in early training, in per- 
 sonal experience, in almost everything else but their 
 common faith. This golden bond united them to each 
 other and to us. There was still another point of re- 
 semblance and another link that bound them all together — 
 the participation in the divine work of the Good Shep- 
 herd which was laid upon them all. . . . 
 
since the 
 (1 rulers, 
 ought to 
 r prayers 
 te of love 
 had the 
 rest from 
 ;he Lord, 
 for their 
 
 supplica- 
 ce, dear 
 ted arch- 
 v^ith fond 
 tes, who 
 md who 
 .s we re- 
 lemories 
 encs are 
 
 of once 
 n before 
 )resence, 
 i^hile the 
 
 saying : 
 lo of the 
 the king 
 le earth, 
 
 s, whose 
 nind, in 
 , in per- 
 ut their 
 to each 
 t of re- 
 [•ether — 
 i Shep- 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 Thoughts of Various Authors 
 ON Purgatory. 
 
 The fuel justice layeth on, 
 And mercy blows the coals. 
 
 The metal in this furnace wrought 
 Is men's defilod souls. 
 
 — SOUTHWFXL. 
 
 I 
 
 i. i ! 
 
 i.l 
 
 ' 
 
 I I K 
 
 ' ! 1 i; 
 
 /:it 
 
 u 
 
 i! ij 
 
 ! i 
 
 m 
 

 i 
 
7 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS 
 ON PURGATORY. 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 CARDINAL NEWMAN. 
 
 Thus we see how, as time went on, the doctrine of Pur- 
 gatory was brought home to the minds of the faithful as 
 a portion or form of penance due for post-baptismal sin. 
 And thus the apprehension of this doctrine, and the prac- 
 tice of Infant Baptism, would grow into general recep- 
 tion together. Cardinal Fisher gives another reason for 
 Purgatory being then developed out of earlier points of 
 faith. He says: " Faith, whether in l\irgatory or in In- 
 dulgences, was not so necessary in the Primitive Church 
 as now ; for then love so burned that every one was ready 
 to meet death for Christ. Crimes were rare ; and such as 
 occurred were avenged by the great severity of the Can- 
 ons. . . . The doctrine of post-baptismal sin, especially 
 when realized in the doctrine of Purgatory, leads the in- 
 quirer to fresh developments beyond itself. Its effect is 
 to convert a Scripture statement, which might seem only 
 of temporary application, into a universal and perpetual 
 truth. When St. Paul and St. Barnabas would ' confirm 
 the souls of the disciples,' they taught them * that wc 
 must, through much tribulation, enter into the kingdom 
 of God.' It is obvious what very practical results would 
 follow on such an announcement in the instance of those 
 who accepted the apostolic decision ; and, in like manner, 
 a conviction that sin must have its punishment, here or 
 hereafter, and that we all must suffer, how overpower- 
 ing will be its effect, what a new light does it cast on the 
 history of the soul, what a change does it make in our 
 judgment of the external world, what a reversal of our 
 natural wishes and aims for the future ! Is a doctrine 
 
 ( 
 
 
3^4 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 conceivable which wouUl so elevate the mind above this 
 present state, and teach it so successtully to dare ditlicult 
 tliin«;s, and to be reckless of dani^er and pain ? lie who 
 believes that suffer he must, and that delayed punishment 
 may be the j;reater, will be above the world, will admire 
 othin<r, lear nothinir, desire notiiinsjf. He has uitiiin his 
 
 n 
 
 breast a source of j^reatness, self-denial, heroism. This is 
 the secret sprin^^ of strenuous efforts and persevering^ 
 toil; of the sacrifice of fortune, friends, ease, reputation, 
 happiness. There is, it is true, a higher class of motives 
 which will be felt by the Saints; who will do from love 
 wiiat all Christians who act acceptably do from faith. And, 
 moreover, the ordinary measures of charity which Chris- 
 tians possess suthce for securinj^ such respectable atten- 
 tion to religious duties as the routine necessities of the 
 Church require. But, if we would raise an army of de- 
 voted men to resist the world, to oppose sin and error, to 
 relieve misery, or to pro})ai^ate truth, we must be pro- 
 vided with motives which keenly affect the many. Chris- 
 tian love is too rare a j^ift, philanthropy is too weak a 
 material, for that occasion. Nor is there an inlluencc to 
 be found to suit our purpose besides this solemn convic- 
 tion, which arises out of the very rudiments of Christian 
 theology, and is taught by its most ancient masters, — this 
 sense of the awfulncss of post-baptismal sin. It is in vain 
 to look out for missionaries for China or Africa, or evan- 
 gelists for our great towns, or Christian attendants on the 
 sick, or teachers of the ignorant, on such a scale of num- 
 bers as the need requires, without the doctrine of Purga- 
 tory. For thus the sins of youth are turned to account 
 by the profitable penance of manhood ; and terrors, 
 which the philosopher scorns in the individual, become 
 the benefactors, and earn the gratitude of nations." — 
 Essay on the Development of CJiristian Doctrine^ p. 386. 
 
 ' Cardinal Newman, as he tells us himself in the preface to tliis work, 
 had it in course of preparation, and, in fact, almost completed, when he left 
 the Anglican communion to become a Catholic. 
 
above tin's 
 \vc clillicult 
 ' Ilculio 
 )unisluncnt 
 vill admire 
 witliin liis 
 m. This is 
 crscvcrinjj: 
 fcputation, 
 i)t motives 
 • from love 
 aitli. And, 
 licli Chris- 
 ible atten- 
 tics of tile 
 my of de- 
 d error, to 
 St be pro- 
 ly. Chris- 
 )o weak a 
 hience to 
 in convic- 
 Christian 
 crs, — this 
 is in vain 
 , or cvan- 
 nts on the 
 
 of num- 
 )f Purga- 
 > aecount 
 
 tenors, 
 , become 
 tions."— 
 386. 
 
 ) tliis work, 
 k^hcn he left 
 
 Tiiou(;nrs ok various tkusons. 
 
 305 
 
 i • 
 
 OUR DEBT TO THE DEAD. 
 
 C.\KI)1NAI, MANNINC. 
 
 i 
 
 The vSaints, by tlieir intercession and their patrotiage, 
 unite u§ with Ciod. They watch over us ; tliey pray lor 
 us ; they obtain graces for us. Our jj^uardian an«;els are 
 roundabout us: they watch over and protect us. The 
 man who h;is not pietv enous^h to ask tht ir prayers must 
 have a heart i)ut httie Hke to the love and veii' lalion of 
 the Sacred Heart of jesus. But there arc otiier friends 
 of God to wiiom we owe a debt of pietv. They are tliose 
 wlio are sufferini:^ beyond tlie grave, in the silent kingdom 
 of pain and expiation — in the dark and yet blessed realm 
 of purihcation ; that is to say, the multiUides who pr.ss 
 out of this world, washed in the I'recious IJlood, perfectly 
 absolved of all guilt of sin, children and friends of God, 
 blessed souls, heirs of the kingdom of Heaven, all but 
 Saints; nevertheless, they are not yet altogether purified 
 for Mis kingdom. Thev are there detained — kept back 
 from His presence — until their expiation is accomplished. 
 You and I, and every one of us, will pass through that 
 place of expiation. Neither you nor I are Saints, nor, 
 upon earth, ever will be; therefore, before we can see 
 God, we must be purified by pain in that silent realm. 
 I5ut those blessed souls are friends of Ciod next after Mis 
 wSaints ; and in the same order they ought to be the ob- 
 jects of our piety ; that is, of our love and compassion, of 
 our sympathy and our prayers. They can do nothing 
 now for themselves : they have no longer any Sacraments; 
 they do not even pray for themselves. They are so con- 
 formed to the will of God that they suffer there in sub- 
 mission and in silence. They desire nothing except that 
 His will should be accomplished. Therefore, it is our 
 duty to help them — to help them by our prayers, our 
 penances, our mortifications, our alms, by the Hc^ly Sac- 
 rifice of the Altar. There may be father and mother, 
 
 1 '' 
 
3o6 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 brother and sister, friend and child, whom you have loved 
 as your own life : they may now be there. Have you for- 
 gotten them? Have you no pity for them now, no natu- 
 ral piety, no spirit of love for them? Do you forget 
 them all the day long ? Look back upon those who made 
 your home in your early childhood, the light of whose 
 faces you can still see shining in your memories, and the 
 sweetness of whose voice is still in your ears — do you 
 forget them because they are no longer seen ? Is it, in- 
 deed, ** out of sight, out of mind " ? What an impiety of 
 heart is this ! 
 
 The Catholic Church, the true mother of souls, cher- 
 ishes, with loving memory, all her departed. Never does 
 a day pass but she prays for them at the altar ; never does 
 a year go by that there is not a special commemoration 
 of all her children departed on one solemn day, which is 
 neither feast nor fast, but a day of the profoundest piety 
 and of the deepest compassion. Surely, then, if we have 
 the spirit of piety in our hearts, the holy souls will be a 
 special object of our remembrance and our prayers. 
 How many now are there whom we have known in life ? 
 There are those who have been grievously afflicted, and 
 those who have been very sinful, but, through the Pre- 
 cious Blood and a death-bed repentance, have been saved 
 at last. Have you forgotten them ? Are you doing 
 nothing for them ? There may also be souls there for 
 whom there is no one to pray on earth ; there may be 
 souls who are utterly forgotten by their own kindred, 
 outcast from all remembrance ; and yet the Precious 
 Blood was shed for their sakes. If no one remember 
 them now, you, at least, if you have in your hearts the 
 gift of piety, will pray for them. — Internal Mission of the 
 Holy Ghost, p. 247. 
 
 
have loved 
 ^'c you for- 
 V, no natu- 
 ^ou forget 
 who made 
 of whose 
 ;s, and the 
 s — do you 
 Is it, in- 
 impiety of 
 
 3uls, cher- 
 fcver does 
 lever does 
 em oration 
 , which is 
 Jest piety 
 f we have 
 1 will be a 
 prayers. 
 rn in life ? 
 cted, and 
 the Pre- 
 en saved 
 3u doing 
 there for 
 : may be 
 kindred, 
 Precious 
 ^member 
 arts the 
 9/1 of the 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 307 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 CARDINAL WISK.MAN. 
 
 I NEED hardly observe, that there is not a sinj^lc liturgy 
 existing, whether we consider the most ancient period of 
 the Church, or the most distant part of the world, in which 
 this doctrine is not laid down. In all Oriental liturgies, 
 we find parts appointed, in which the Priest or Bishop is 
 ordered to pray for the souls of tlie faithful departed ; and 
 tables were anciently kept in the churches, called the Dyp- 
 tichs, on which the names of the deceased were enrolled, 
 that they might be remembered in the Sacrifice of the 
 Mass and the prayers of the faithful. The name of Purga- 
 tory scarcely requires a passing comment. It has, indeed, 
 been made a topic of abuse, on the ground that it is not 
 to be found in Scripture. But where is the w'ord Trinity 
 to be met with ? Where is the word Incarnaiion to be 
 read in Scripture? Where are many other terms, held 
 most sacred and important in the Christian religion ? The 
 doctrines arc, indeed, found there; but these names were 
 not given, until circumstances had rendered them neces- 
 sary. We see that the Fathers of the Church have called 
 it a purging fire — a place of expiation or purgation. The 
 idea is precisely, the name almost, the same. 
 
 It has been said by divines of the English Church, that 
 the two doctrines which I have joined together, of prayers 
 for the dead and Purgatory, have no necessary connection, 
 and that, in fact, they were not united in the ancient 
 Church. The answer to this assertion I leave to your 
 memories, after the passages which I have read yoi: from 
 the Fathers. They surely speak of purgation by fire after 
 death, whereby the imperfections of this life are washed 
 out, and satisfaction made to God for sins not sufficiently 
 expiated ; they speak, at the same time, of our prayers 
 being beneficial to those who have departed this life in a 
 state of sin ; and these propositions contain our entire 
 doctrine on Purgatory. It has also been urged that the 
 
 I i* 
 
 ii 'i 
 
 m 
 
f 
 
 308 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 established religion, or Protestantism, does not deny or 
 discourage prayers for the dead, so long as they are inde- 
 pendent of a belief in Purgatory; and, in this respect, it is 
 stated to agree with the primitive Christian Church. But, 
 my brethren, tins distinction is exceedingly fallacious. 
 Religion is a lively, practical profession ; it is to be 
 ascertained and judged by its sanctioned practices 
 and outward demonstration, rather than by the mere 
 opinions of the few. I would at once fairly appeal 
 to the judgment of any Protestant, whether he has 
 been taught, and has understood that such is the doc- 
 trine of his Church. If, from the services which he 
 attended, or the Catechism which he has learned, or 
 the discourses heard, he has been led to suppose that 
 praying for the dead, in terms however general, was no- 
 wa3^s a peculiarity of Catholicism, but as much a permit- 
 ted practice of Protestantism. It is a practical doctrine in 
 the Catholic Church, it has an influence highly consoling 
 to humanity, and eminently worthy of a religion that came 
 down from heaven to second all the purest feelings of the 
 heart. Nature herself seems to revolt at the idea that the 
 chain of attachment which binds us together in life, can 
 be rudely snapped asunder by the hand of death, con- 
 quered and deprived of its sting since the victory of the 
 cross. But it is not to the spoil of mortality, cold and 
 disfigured, that she clings with affection. It is but an 
 earthly and almost unchristian grief, which sobs when the 
 grave closes over the bier of a departed loved one : but 
 the soul flics upward to a more spiritual affection, and 
 refuses to surrender the hold which it had upon the love 
 and interest of the spirit that has fled. Cold and dark as 
 the sepulchral vault is the belief that sympathy is at an 
 end when the body is shrouded in decay, and that no fur- 
 ther interchange of friendly offices may take place between 
 those who have lain down to sleep in peace and us, who 
 for awhile strew fading flowers upon their tomb. But 
 sweet is the consolation to the dying man, who, conscious 
 of imperfection, believes that even after his own time of 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 309 
 
 not deny or 
 icy arc inde- 
 respect, it is 
 hurch. But, 
 y fallacious, 
 it is to be 
 \ practices 
 
 Y the mere 
 irly appeal 
 ler he has 
 is the doc- 
 1 which he 
 learned, or 
 ppose that 
 ral, was no- 
 h a permit- 
 doctrine in 
 
 V consoling: 
 1 that came 
 iings of the 
 ea that the 
 in life, can 
 :leath, con- 
 ory of the 
 
 , cold and 
 is but an 
 5 when the 
 one: but 
 ction, and 
 1 the love 
 d dark as 
 y is at an 
 at no fur- 
 3 between 
 3 us, who 
 nb. But 
 :onscious 
 ti time of 
 
 merit is expired, there are others to make intercession on 
 his behalf; soothing to the afflicted survivors the thought, 
 that instead of unavailing tears they possess more power- 
 ful means of actively relieving their friend, and testifying 
 their affectionate regret, by prayer and supplication. In 
 the first moments of grief, this sentiment will often over- 
 power religious prejudice, cast down the unbeliever on 
 his knees beside the remains of his friend, and snatch from 
 him an unconscious prayer for rest; it is an impulse of 
 nature, which for the moment, aided by the analogies of 
 revealed truth, seizes at once upon this consoling belief. 
 But it is only like the flitting and melancholy liglit which 
 sometimes plays as a meteor over the corpses of the dead ; 
 v/hile the Catholic feeling, cheering, though with solemn 
 dimness, resembles the unfailing lamp which the piety of 
 the ancients is said to have hung before the sepulchres (^f 
 their dead. It prolongs the tendercst affections beyond 
 the gloom of the grave, and it infuses the inspiring hope 
 that the assistance which we on earth can afford to our 
 suffering brethren, will be amply repaid when they have 
 reached their place of rest, and make of them friends, who, 
 when luc in our turns fail, shall receive us into everlasting 
 
 mansions.^ 
 
 '"Lectures on the Catholic Church," often called the " Moorlickl Lect- 
 ures," from being delivered in St. Mary's, MoorfieUls, in the Lent of 1S36. 
 Vol. 1., Lecture xi., pp. 65, 68. This lecture upon Purgatory is an admira- 
 ble exposition of the Catholic doctrine, supported by numberless testimo- 
 nies from the Fathers. 
 
 11 
 
 1 
 
 
 «., 
 
I 
 
 310 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 REPLY TO SOME MISSTATEMENTS ABOUT PURGATORY. 
 
 ARCHBISHOP SPALDING, OF liAI.TIMORK. 
 
 " The Synod of Florence," says this writer,' " was the 
 first which taui^ht the doctrine of Purgatory, as an article 
 of faith. It had, indeed, been held by the Pope and by 
 many writers, and it became the popular doctrine during- 
 the period under review ; but it was not decreed by 
 any authority of the universal, or even the whole Latin 
 Church. In the Eastern Church it was always rejected." 
 
 Even admitting, for the sake of argument, that the 
 Council of Florence was the first which defined this doc- 
 trine as an article of faith, would it thence follov/ that the 
 doctrine itself was of recent origin? It could only be 
 inferred that it was never before questioned, and that, 
 therefore, there was no need of any definition on the sub- 
 ject. Would it follow from the fact, that the Council of 
 Nice was the first general synod which defined the doc- 
 trine of the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, 
 that this, too, was a new doctrine, unknown to the three 
 previous centuries? j\Ir. Palmer himself admits that this 
 tenet of Purgatory " had become the popular doctrine 
 during the period under review;" which, in connection 
 with the solemn promises of Christ to guard His Church 
 from error, clearly proves that it was an article of divine 
 revelation, — on the principles even of our Oxford divine ! 
 
 It is not true that ''it was always rejected in the East- 
 ern Church." The Greek Church admitted it in the 
 Council of Florence and, at least, impliedly, in that of 
 Lyons. It had never been a bar to union between the 
 churches, however their theologians may have differed on 
 the secondary question, whether the souls detained in this 
 middle place of temporary expiation are purified by a 
 material fire. '' The ancient Fathers, both of the Greek 
 
 ' Rev. Wm. A. Palmer of Worcester College, Oxford, in his "Compen- 
 dium of Ecclcsiusticul History." 
 
JRGATORY. 
 
 / " was the 
 IS an article 
 )pc and by 
 rinc during- 
 Iccrccd by 
 hole Latin 
 5 rejected." 
 t, that the 
 d this doc- 
 )v/ that the 
 id only be 
 
 and that, 
 )n the sub- 
 roiincil of 
 d the doc- 
 le Father, 
 the three 
 s that this 
 
 doctrine 
 onnection 
 is Church 
 of divine 
 d divine ! 
 the East- 
 it in the 
 1 that of 
 ween the 
 ffered on 
 ^d in this 
 led by a 
 e Greek 
 
 " Compcn- 
 
 J 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 311 
 
 and Latin Church, who had occasion to refer to the sub- 
 ject, had unanimously agreed in maintaining the doctrine, 
 as could be easily shown by reference to their works. 
 All the ancient liturgies of both Churches had embodied 
 this same article of faith. And even at present, not only 
 the Greek Church, but all the Oriental sectaries still hold 
 it as doctrine, and practice accordingly." 
 
 COUNT DE MAISTEE ON PUKGATORY. 
 
 You have heard, in countries separated from the Roman 
 Church, the doctors of the lazo deny at once Hell and 
 Purgatory. You might well have taken the denial of a 
 word for that of a thing. An enormous power is that of 
 words ! The minister who would be angry at that of 
 Purgatory will readily grant us ?i place of expiation, or an 
 intermediate state, or perhaps even stations, who knows? 
 without thinking it in the least ridiculous. One ot the 
 great motives of the sixteenth century revolt was precisely 
 Purgatory. The insurgents would have nothing less than 
 Hell, pure and simple. Nevertheless, when they became 
 philosophers, they set about denying the eternity of 
 punishment, allowing, nevertheless, a hell for a time, only 
 through good policy and for fear of putting into heaven 
 at one stroke Nero and Messalina side by side with St. 
 Louis and St. Teresa. But a temporary hell is nothing 
 else than Purgatory ; so that having broken with us be- 
 cause they did not want Purgatory, they broke with us 
 anew because they wanted Purgatory only. 
 
 
 ^M 
 
 1.; 
 
 i A 
 
 % 
 
 m 
 
 
312 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 WHAT THE SAINTS THOUGHT OF PURGATORY. 
 
 In the Special Announcement of the " Messenger of St. 
 Joseph's Union" for 1885-6, we find the following in- 
 teresting remarks in relation to the devotion to the Souls 
 in Purgatory: "St. Gregory the Great, speaking of 
 Purgatory, calls it * a penitential fire harder to endure 
 than all the tribulations of this world.' St. Auirustine 
 says that the torment of fire alone endured by the holy 
 souls in Purgatory, exceeds all the tortures inflicted on 
 the martyrs ; and St. Thomas says that there is no differ- 
 ence between the fire of Hell and that of Purgatory. 
 Pra3'er for the souls in Purgatory is a source of great 
 blessings to ourselves. It is related of a holy religious 
 who had for a loniif time strui::a:led in vain to free him- 
 self from an impure temptation, and who appealed 
 earnestly to the Blessed Virgin to deliver him, that she 
 appeared to him and commanded him to pray earnestly 
 for the souls in Purgatory, tie did so, and from that 
 time tlie temptation left him. The duration of the period 
 of confinement in Purgatory is probably much longer 
 than we are inclined to think. We find by the Revela- 
 tions of Sister Francesca of Pampeluna that the majority 
 of souls in Purgatory with whose sufferings she was 
 made acquainted, were detained there for a period ex- 
 tending from thirty to sixty years ; and, as many of those 
 of whom she speaks were holy Carmelites, some of whom 
 had even wrought miracles when on earth, what must be 
 the fate of poor workUings who seldom think of gaining 
 an indulgence either for themselves or their departed 
 friends and relatives? Father Faber commenting on this 
 subject — the length of time that the holy souls arc 
 detained in Purgatory — says very justly : ' We are apt 
 to leave off too soon praying for rjr parents, friends, or 
 relatives, imagining with a foolisn and unenlightened es- 
 teem for the holiness of their lives, that they are freed 
 
TORY. 
 
 iger of St. 
 owing in- 
 thc Souls 
 cakinijf of 
 to endure 
 Augustine 
 'the holy 
 iflicted on 
 no diffcr- 
 'urgatory. 
 2 of great 
 ' religious 
 free him- 
 appcaled 
 , that she 
 earnestly 
 from that 
 le period 
 longer 
 Re vela- 
 majority 
 was 
 sriod ex- 
 of those 
 of whom 
 must be 
 gaining 
 ieparted 
 on this 
 3uls are 
 are apt 
 ends, or 
 encd es- 
 e freed 
 
 :li 
 
 '■ 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 t(i 
 
 Js 
 
 313 
 
 from Purgatory much sooner than they really are.' Can 
 the holy souls in Purgatory assist us by their prayers? 
 Most assuredly. St. Liguori says : ' Though the souls 
 in Purgatory are unable to pray or merit for themselves, 
 they can obtain by prayer many favors for those who 
 pray for them on earth.' St. Catherine of Bologna has 
 assured us that she obtained many favors by the })rayers 
 of the, holy souls in Purgatory which she had asked in 
 vain through the intercession of the saints. Tiie lloly 
 Ghost says: ' He who stoppeth his ear against the cry 
 of the poor, shall also cry himself and shall not be heard,' and 
 St. Vincent Ferrer says, in expounding that passage, that 
 the holy souls in Purgatory cry to God for justice against 
 those who on earth refuse to help them by their prayers, 
 and that God will most assuredly hear their cry. Let us, 
 therefore, do all in our power to relieve the holy souls in 
 Purgatory, and avert from ourselves the punishment that 
 God is sure to inflict on those whose faith is too dead, or 
 whose hearts are too cold to heed the cry that rises, day 
 and night, from that sea of fire: ' Have pity on me, have 
 pity on me, at least you my friends ! ' " Job xix. 21. 
 
 ^ 
 
 
 I '■ 
 
 
 <' i 
 
 ' ; I 
 
 : 
 
 «> 
 
 i 
 
 i'fl 
 
 I 
 
 
•V- 
 
 314 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
 That the doctrine of Purgatory opens to the Christian 
 poet a source of the marvellous which was unknown to 
 antiquity will be readily admitted.' Nothing, perhaps, 
 is more favorable to the inspiration of the muse than this 
 middle state of expiation between the region of bliss and 
 that of pain, suggesting the idea of a confused mixture of 
 happiness and of suffering. The graduation of the pun- 
 ishments inflicted on those souls that are more or less 
 happy, more or less brilliant, according to their degree 
 of proximity to an eternity of joy or of woe, affords an 
 impressive subject for poetic description. In this respect, 
 it surpasses the subjects of heaven and hell, because it 
 possesses a future which they do not. 
 
 The river Lethe was a graceful appendage of the 
 ancient Elysium ; but it cannot be said that the shades 
 which came to life again on its banks exhibited the same 
 poetical progress in the way to happiness that we behold 
 in the souls of Purgatory. When they left the abodes of 
 bliss to reappear among men, they passed from a perfect 
 to an imperfect state. They re-entered the ring for the 
 fight. They were born again to undergo a second death. 
 In short, they came forth to see what they had already 
 seen before. Whatever can be measured by the human 
 mind is necessarily circumscribed. We may admit, 
 indeed, that there was something striking and true in the 
 circle by which the ancients symbolized eternity ; but it 
 seems to us that it fetters the imagination by confining it 
 always within a dreaded enclosure. The straight line ex- 
 tended ad infinitiini would, perhaps, be more expressive, 
 because it would carry our thoughts into a w^orld of un- 
 
 ' Some trace of this dogma is to be found in Plato and in the doctrine of 
 Zeno. (See Diog. Laer.) The poets also appear to have had some idea of 
 it (^neid, v. vi.}, but these notions urc all vague and inconsequent. 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 3^5 
 
 Christian 
 
 known to 
 
 perhaps, 
 
 than this 
 
 ■ bliss and 
 lixturc of 
 
 ■ the pun- 
 re or less 
 ir degree 
 iffords an 
 is respect, 
 )ecause it 
 
 ^G of the 
 be shades 
 he same 
 e behold 
 abodes of 
 a perfect 
 cr for the 
 ind death, 
 d already 
 ic human 
 y admit, 
 rue in the 
 y ; but it 
 mfining it 
 it line ex- 
 :pressive, 
 Id of un- 
 
 doctrinc of 
 some idea of 
 lient. 
 
 t 
 
 defined realities, and would bring together three things 
 which appear to exclude each other— hope, mobility, 
 eternity. 
 
 The apportionment of the punishment to the sin is an- 
 other source of invention which is found in the purgatorial 
 
 state, and is highly favorable to the sentimental 
 
 If violent winds, raging fires, and icy cold, lend their in- 
 fluence to the torments of hell, why may not milder 
 sufferings be derived from the song of the nightingale, 
 from the fragrance of flowers, from the murmur of the 
 brook, or from the moral affections themselves? Homer 
 and Ossian tell us of the joy of grief opvepov rerapTTU) 
 (leaOayoAo. 
 
 Poetry finds its advantage also in that doctrine of Pur- 
 gatory which teaches us that the prayers and other good 
 works of the faithful may obtain the deliverance of souls 
 from their temporal pains. How admirable is this inter- 
 course between the living son and the deceased father — 
 between the mother and daughter — between husband and 
 wife — between life and death. What affecting considera- 
 tions are suggested by this tenet of religion ! My virtue, 
 insignificant being as I am, becomes the common property 
 of Christians ; and, as I participate in the guilt of Adam, 
 so also the good that I possess passes to the good of 
 others. Christian poets ! the prayers of your Nisus will 
 be felt, in their happy effects, by some Euryalus beyond 
 the grave. The rich, whose charity you describe, may 
 well share their abundance with the poor, for the pleasure 
 which they take in performing this simple and grateful 
 act will receive its reward from the Almighty in the re- 
 lease of their parents from the expiatory flame. Wliat a 
 beautiful feature in our religion to impel the heart of man 
 to virtue by the power of love, and to make him feel that 
 the very coin which gives bread for the moment to an in- 
 digent fellow-being, entitles, perhaps, some rescurxl soul 
 to an eternal position at the table of the Lord.^ 
 
 1 « 
 
 Genius of Christianity." Buck II., Chap. xv. pp. 338-340. 
 
 
 
 •P '■ : 
 
 III 
 
m 
 
 316 
 
 rUKGATOKY. 
 
 MARY AND THE FAITHFUL DEPARTED. 
 
 BY BROTHER AZARIAS. 
 
 Mary, from her nearness to Jesus, lias imbibed many 
 traits ot the Sacred Heart of Jesus. wShe shares, in a pre- 
 eminent deu^ree, His Divino compassion for sorrow and 
 sufferin<r. Where He lov^es and pities, she also loves and 
 pities. Nay, may we not well say that all endurinj^- an- 
 guish of soul and writhini^ under the panics of a lacerated 
 heart, arc especially dear to both Jesus and Mary? Was 
 not Jesus the Man of Sorrows? and did He not constitute 
 Mary the Mother of sufferini^ and sorrowing humanity ? 
 And even as His Divine breast knew keenest sorrow, did 
 not a sword of sorrow pierce her soul? She participated 
 in the agony of Jesus only as such a Mother can share 
 the agony of such a Son ; in the tcnderest manner, there- 
 fore, does she commiserate sc^rrow and suffering wher- 
 ever found. Though now far beyond all touch of pain and 
 misery, still as the devoted Mother of a |)ain-stricken race, 
 she continues to watch, to shield, to aid and to strengthen 
 her children in their wrestlings with these mysterious 
 visitants. 
 
 II. 
 
 Nor docs Mary's interest cease upon this side of the 
 grave. It accompanies souls beyond. And when she 
 beholds those souls undergoing their final purgation, 
 before entering u])on the enjoyment of the beatific vision, 
 she pities them with a pity all the more heartfelt because 
 their suffering is so much greater than any they could 
 have endured in this life. Sec the state of those souls. 
 They are in grace and favor with God ; they are burning 
 with love for Him ; they arc yearning, with a yearning 
 boundless in its intensity, to drink refreshment of life, and 
 love, and sanctification, and to be replenished with good- 
 ness and truth, and to perfect their natures at the 
 Fountain-head of all truth, all goodness, all love, and all 
 
TflO, IITS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 317 
 
 bed many 
 5, in a prc- 
 irrow and 
 loves and 
 luring^ an- 
 L lacerated 
 ry ? Was 
 constitute 
 [uimanity ? 
 DiTow, did 
 irticipated 
 can share 
 ner, there- 
 in <^ wher- 
 dF pain and 
 cken race, 
 strenj^then 
 nysterious 
 
 ide of the 
 
 when she 
 
 purgation, 
 
 ific vision, 
 
 ;lt because 
 
 hey could 
 
 lose souls. 
 
 re burning 
 
 I yearning 
 
 of life, and 
 
 ivith good- 
 
 es at the 
 
 ve, and all 
 
 0» 
 
 perfection. The\ are y irning; but so t "t ,y And 
 piercingly does tli ■ white 1 ^ht ot < »od's triitli ..i«/f G'»d's 
 holiness shine through them and p i-tratJ ery 1 'd and 
 recess of their moral natures, an ' reveal «> them every 
 slightest imperfection, that thev ■ are not approach llim 
 and gratify their intense desire to be united with llim. 
 Their weaknesses and imi)erfections ; the traces in them 
 of, and the attachments in them to, former sins, incident 
 upon the frailties of feeble human nature, still cling to 
 them, and must needs be consumed in the hery ordeal of 
 suffering before their enjoyment of the beatific vision can 
 be completed and their union with the Godhead con- 
 summated. 
 
 III. 
 
 That there should be for souls after death such a state 
 of purgation is all within the grasp of human reason. It 
 is a doctrine that was taught in tiie remotest ages of the 
 world. Here is a condensed version of the tradition as 
 handed down in clearest terms, beautifully expressed by 
 one of the world's greatest thinkers and writers : *' All 
 things are distinctly manifest in the soul after it has been 
 divested of the body ; and this is true both of the natural 
 disposition of the soul and of the affections that the man 
 has acquired from his various pursuits. When therefore 
 the soul comes before the Judge . . . the Judge hnds 
 all things distorted through pride and falsehood and 
 whatsoever is unrighteous, for as much as the soul has 
 been nurtured with untruth . . . and he forthwith 
 sends it to a prison state where it will undergo the 
 punishment it deserves. But it behooveth that he that is 
 punished, if he be justly punished, either become better 
 and receive benefit from his punishment, or become a 
 warning to others. . . . But ivJioso arc benefited . . . 
 are such as Jiavc been guilty of C2irable transgressions ; their 
 benefit here and hereafter ^ accrues to tJieni through pains 
 and torments ; for it is impossible to get rid of injustice by 
 
 t 
 
 • 
 
 *f 
 
 t , 
 
k 
 
 3'8 
 
 rURC.ATORY. 
 
 oZ/wr inauncr of means''' This reads like a pap^e lorn from 
 one oltlic early I'athcrs of the Cluireli.' More than five 
 centuries before tlie Christian era it was penned by 
 I'lato.- Clearly does he draw the line between eternal 
 punishment for unrepented crimes and temporal punish- 
 ment for curable Idoiim tranjj^ressions. Virj^il in no un- 
 certain tone echoes the same doctrine, makin<^ no 
 exception to the rule that some corporeal stains and traces 
 of ill follow all beyond the jj^rave ; tr/u/ tluri'forc do they 
 suffer pnnishnieut and pay the penalty of ohi zvrongs?" W h at 
 antiquity has handed down, and reason has found to be 
 just and proper, th.c Church has defined and decreed. 
 She has j^onc further. Siic has supplemented and com- 
 pleted the pat^an conception of expiation by that of 
 intercession ; and she has added thereto, for the comfort 
 and consolation of the livinjx and the dead, that the souls 
 so sufierin<j " may be heli)ed by the suffrages of the faith- 
 ful, but principally by the acceptable Sacrifice of the 
 Altar." ^ And in her prayers for deceased friends, relatives 
 and benefactors, she is mindful of Mary's sweet inlluencc 
 with her Son, and asks their deliverance through her in- 
 tercession.^ 
 
 The tendency to commune with the dead, and to pray 
 for them, is strong and universal. It survives whatever 
 systems or whatever creeds men may invent for its sup- 
 pression. Samuel Johnson is professedly a staunch 
 Protestant, bristling with prejudices, but a delicate moral 
 sense enters the rugged manhood of his nature. In- 
 stinctively he seeks to commune with his departed wife, 
 after the manner dear to the Catholic heart, but forbidden 
 to the Protestant. He keeps the anniversary of her death. 
 He composes a prayer for the repose of her soul, beseech- 
 
 ^ There is a passage in Clement of Alexandria, not unlike this in state- 
 ment of the same doctrine (" Stromaton " 1. vi. m. 14, p. 794. Ed. Potter). 
 The passage is quoted in " Faith of Catholics." Vol. III. p. 142. 
 
 * Gorgias, cap. Ixxx., Ixxxi. 
 
 3 yEneid, lib. vi. 735, 740, 
 
 ^ Council of Trent, Sess. xxv. Decret. de Purgatorio, p. 204. 
 
 ^ Beala Maria semper virgine interccdente. 
 
 Hi 
 
ini from 
 han five 
 iiR'tl by 
 eternal 
 punisii- 
 no im- 
 :in<; no 
 (I traces 
 ' do ilicy 
 What 
 id to be 
 Iccrecd. 
 k1 com- 
 that of 
 comfort 
 lie souls 
 10 faith- 
 of the 
 elativcs 
 illuencc 
 her in- 
 to pray 
 hatevcr 
 its sup- 
 staunch 
 e moral 
 re. In- 
 :d wife, 
 rbidden 
 r death, 
 eseech- 
 
 5 in statc- 
 1. Potter). 
 
 TiK)rr.iiTs or various authors. 
 
 3^9 
 
 ln_i^ God "to i^rant l\er whatever is best in her pnsent 
 state, and fmally to receive her to eternal happiness.' 
 
 IV. 
 
 Oftiie nature and intensity oftiie sufferiiiL^s of souls 
 underi^oin;^ this i)uri;ation, we on earth can form but 
 the faintest conception. Not so Mary. She sees thin<;s 
 as they arc. She sees the preat love animatinj.:^ tliosc 
 h(jly soids. She sees their eaj^er desire to be united to 
 God, the sole centre antl object of their beiuL;'. vShe sees 
 and appreciates the strujj^j^le ^oini^ on in them between 
 that intense desire — that threat yearnin<:^ that j^ropiuij^ 
 after perfect luiion — that unfilled antl unsatiated vagueness 
 arisinj^ from their j)rivation of the only fulness that could 
 replenish them, on the one hand, aiul on the other, the 
 sense of their unfitness, keen, stronu^, deep, intense, over- 
 whelminL!^ them and drivini^ them back to the llames of 
 pain and soul-hunp^er and soul-tiiirst until they shall have 
 satisfied Ciod's justice to the last farthing-, and even the 
 slig-htest stain has been cleansed, and they stand forth in 
 the light of God's sanctity, whole and spotless. She sees 
 the terrible struggle ; and her motherly heart goes out in 
 tender pity to these her children, washed and ransomed 
 by the lUood of her Divine Son, and she is well disposed 
 to extend to them the aid of her powerful intercession. 
 She is fitly called the Mother of Mercy. Her merciful 
 heart goes out to these, the favored ones of her Son, all 
 the more lovingly and tenderly because they arc unable 
 to help themselves. 
 
 V. 
 
 But whilst Mary looks upon those souls with an eye of 
 tender mercy and sweet compassion, and whilst Jesus is 
 prepared to admit them to the beatific vision as soon as 
 
 ' BoswcU's Johnson, vol. i, p, loo. Crokcr's Ed. There is pathos in this 
 entry, remembering the man : "Mar. 23, 1753. I kept this day as the an- 
 niversary of my Tetly's death, with prayer and tears in tlie morning. In the 
 evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful." Ihid. p. 97. 
 
 
ji (j ii i i frTij fillf « i itff i iBii 
 
 -.titt tmm ^it mmrv <, 
 
 320 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 they become tlioroiiq;]i]y purified, still the assuagincf of 
 their pains and tlie abridgin*^' ot their time of purgation 
 depend in a great measure upon tlie graces and the merits 
 that are ap})lied to them by us, their brethren upon earth. 
 According to the earnestness of the prayers wc say for 
 them, and the measure of the good works we do for them, 
 will the intercession of Mary and all the saints be effica- 
 cious with Jesus in their behalf. It is unspeakably con- 
 soling to the living and the dead to know that the mem- 
 bers of the Church militant upon earth have it within 
 their power to aid and relieve the members of the 
 Church suffering. It is therefore really and indeed a holy 
 and a wholesome thought for us of the one to pray for 
 those of the other. It is more : it is an imperative duty 
 * we owe the faithful departed. They are our brethren 
 in Christ, bought at the same price, nurtured by the same 
 graces, living by the same faith, and sanctified by the 
 same spirit. Many of them may have been near and dear 
 to us in this life ; and of these, many again may now suf- 
 fer because of us ; whether it was that we led them 
 directly into wrong-doing, or whether it was that, in their 
 loving kindness for us, they connived at, permitted, aided 
 or abetted us, in what their consciences had whispered 
 them not to be right. In each and every case it is our 
 bounden duty to do all in our power to assuage sufferings 
 to which we may have been accessory. In heart-rending 
 accents do they cry out to us : " Hazr pity on inc, have 
 pity on inc, at least yc my friends I"" ^ And as we would 
 have others do by us under like circumstances, so should 
 we not turn a deaf car to their petition. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Daily does the Angel of Death enter our houses, and 
 summon from us those that are rooted in our affections, 
 and for whom our heart-throbs beat in love and esteem. 
 Daily must we bow our heads in leverent silence and 
 submission to the decree that snatches from us some 
 
 ' Job, xix. 21. 
 
 i<i 
 
lAi 
 
 agin 2: of 
 urgation 
 le merits 
 on earth. 
 c say for 
 "or them, 
 DC cfHca- 
 ibly con- 
 ic mcm- 
 t within 
 
 of the 
 d a holy 
 pray for 
 ivc duty 
 brethren 
 :he same 
 
 by the 
 mcl dear 
 
 low Sllf- 
 
 d them 
 
 in their 
 
 d, aided 
 
 lispered 
 
 : is our 
 
 fferings 
 
 rending 
 
 ;ic, have 
 
 would 
 
 should 
 
 ;es, and 
 actions, 
 esteem, 
 ice and 
 s some 
 
 A 
 
 w. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 32 I 
 
 loved one. Perhaps it is a wife who mourns the loss of 
 her husband. She hnds comfort and comjjanionshi}) in 
 praying for the rcjx)sc of his soul ; in the words of Ter- 
 tullian, " she prays for his soul, and begs lor him in the 
 interim refreshments, and in the first resurrection com- 
 panionship, and maketh offerings on the anniversary diiy 
 of his falling asleep."' Perhaps it is a husband whose 
 loving wife has gone to sleep in death. Then will he hold 
 her memory sacred, and offer thereto the incense of un- 
 ceasing prayer, so that it may be said of iiim as St. Je- 
 rome wrote to Pammachius : " Thou hast rendered what 
 was due to each part; giving tears to the body and 
 alms to the soul. . . . There were thy tears where 
 thou knewest was death ; there were thy works where 
 thou knewest was life. . . . Already is she honored 
 with thy merits; already is she fed with thy bread, and 
 abounds with thy riches." - Perhaps it is a dear friend 
 around whom our heart-strings were entwined, and whose 
 love for us was more than we were worthy of: whose 
 counsels were our guide ; v/hose soul was an open book 
 in which we daily read the lesson of high resolve and 
 sincere purpose ; whose virtuous life was a continuous 
 inspiration urging us on to noble thought and noble deed ; 
 and yet our friendship may have bound his soul in ties 
 too earthly, and retarded his progress in perfection ; in 
 consequence he may still dread the light of God's coun- 
 tenance, and may be lingering in this state of purgation. 
 It behooves us in all earnestness, and in friendship's 
 sacred claim, to pray unceasingly for that friend, beseech- 
 ing God to let the dews of Divine mercy fall upon liis 
 parching soul, assuage his pain, and take him to Him- 
 self, to complete his happiness. 
 
 So the sacred duty of prayer for the dead runs through 
 all the relations of life. From all comes the cry begging 
 for our prayers. We cannot in justice ignore it; wc 
 cannot be true to ourselves and unmindful of our suffcr- 
 
 » " Dc Monosam," n. x. p. 531. " Faith of Catholics," Vol. HI., p. 144. 
 ' En. xxxvii. 
 
 I! 
 
 il 
 
 
 1; 
 
 ( 
 
 1 
 
 ■ax 
 
.jsffi52 
 
 l^Wmmmsim 
 
 *S'i'«j-Ji6i*#ij 
 
 ■MMMH 
 
 322 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ing brethren. Every reminder that wc receive is a voice 
 coming from the grave. Now it is the mention of a name 
 that once brought gladness to our hearts ; or we come 
 across a letter written by a hand whose grasp used to thrill 
 our souls — that hand now stiffened and cold in death ; or 
 it is the sight of some relic that vividly recalls the dear 
 one passed away ; or it is a dream — and to whom has not 
 such a dream occurred ? — in which we live over again the 
 pleasant past with the bosom friend of our soul, and he is 
 back once more, in the flesh, ro-enacting the scenes of 
 former days, breathing and talking as naturally as though 
 there were no break in his life or ours and we had never 
 parted. When wc awaken from our dream, and the 
 pang of reality, like a keen blade, penetrates our hearts, 
 let us not rest content with a vain sigh of regret, or. with 
 useless tears of grief; let us pray God to give the dear 
 departed soul eternal rest, and admit it to the perpetual 
 light of His Presence. And in like manner should we 
 regard all other reminders as so many appeals to the 
 charity of our prayers. In this Vv'ay will the keeping of 
 the memory of those gone before us be to them a bless- 
 ing and to us a consolation. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Furthermore, every prayer we say, every sacrifice we 
 make, every alms wc give for the repose ol the dear de- 
 parted ones, will all return upon ourselves in hundredfold 
 blessings. They arc God's choice friends, dear to His 
 Sacred Heart, living in His grace and in constant com- 
 muning with Him ; and though they ma}- not alleviate 
 their own sufferings, their prayers in our behalf always 
 avail. They can aid us most efficaciously. God will not 
 turn a deaf ear to their intercession. Being holy souls, 
 they are grateful souls. The friends that aid them, they 
 in turn will also aid. We need not fear praying for 
 them in all faith and confidence. They will obtain for us 
 the special favors we desire. They will watch over us 
 lovingly and tenderly ; they will guard our steps ; they 
 
 f 
 
 \ 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 323 
 
 > a voice 
 fa name 
 ve come 
 to thrill 
 ::ath; or 
 the dear 
 has not 
 g-ain the 
 nd he is 
 :enes of 
 though 
 d never 
 md the 
 ' hearts, 
 or. with 
 ;he dear 
 irpetual 
 )uld we 
 to the 
 pinq; of 
 a bless- 
 
 Ifice we 
 lear de- 
 red fold 
 to His 
 at com- 
 llcviate 
 always 
 kvill not 
 Y souls, 
 n, they 
 ing for 
 1 for us 
 Dvcr us 
 ; ; they 
 
 I 
 
 \ 
 
 will warn us against evil ; they will shield us in moments 
 of trial and danger ; and when our day of purgatorial 
 suffering comes, they will use their influence in our be- 
 half to assuage our pains and shorten the period of our 
 separation from the Oodhcad. And so may we, in con- 
 stant prayer, begging in a special manner the interces- 
 sion of Mary the Mother of Mercy, say to our Lord and 
 Saviour: '■'■Deliver the in from gloom and darkness, and 
 snatch them from sorroiu and grief ; enter not into judgment 
 with them, nor severely examine their past life ; but whether 
 in word or deed they have sinned, as men elothed ivith Jlesh, 
 forgive and do away zoith their transgressions,'' ^ 
 
 DR. JOHNSON ON PRAYERS FOR THE LEAD. 
 
 BOSWELL. What do you, think, sir, of Purgatory, as 
 believed by the Roman CathoUcs ? 
 
 Johnson. Why, sir, it is a very harmlesss doctrine. 
 They are of opinion that the generality of mankind arc 
 neither so obstinately wicked as to deserve everlasting 
 punishment, nor so good as to merit being admitted into 
 the society of blessed spirits ; and therefore that God is 
 graciously pleased to allow of a middle state, where they 
 may be purified by certain degrees of suffering. You 
 see, sir, that there is nothing unreasonable in this. 
 
 BosWELL. But then, sir, their Masses for the dead ? 
 
 Johnson. Why, sir, if it be once established that there 
 are souls in Purgatory, it is as proper to pray for them 
 as for our brethren of mankind who are yet in this life. 
 
 BoswELL. The idolatry of the Mass? 
 
 Johnson. Sir, there is no idolatry in the Mass. They 
 believe God to be there, and they adore Him. 
 
 vV ->«■ ^M * ^ -k -7: 
 
 BoswELL. We see in Scripture that Dives still retained 
 an anxious concern about his brethren ? 
 
 * From prayer for ihe Faithful Departed in tlic S)'rlac Liturr^y. See 
 " Faith of Catholics," Vol. III. p. 203. 
 
^?*^f*^****«*i**8«^4«i5«^^^ 
 
 '^■. i 
 
 324 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Johnson. Why, sir, wc must cither suppose that pas- 
 sage to be metaphorical, or hold with many divines, and 
 all purg-atorians, that departed souls do not all at once 
 arrive at the utmost perfection of which they are capable. 
 
 ■'A- vr -v^ v:- w %♦ w 
 
 BOSWELL. Do you think, sir, it is wrong in a man who 
 holds the doctrine of Purgatory to pray for the souls of 
 his deceased friends ? 
 
 Johnson. Why, no, sir. 
 
 * * * -:t * * * 
 
 He states that he spent March 22, 1753, in prayers 
 and tears in the morning ; and in the cvenmg prayed for 
 the soul of his deceased wife, " conditionally, if it be law- 
 ful." The following is his customary prayer for his dead 
 wife: " And, O Lord, so far as it may be lawful in me, I 
 commend to Thy fatherly goodness the soul of my de- 
 parted wife ; beseeching Thee to gront her whatever is 
 best in her present state, and finally to receive her into 
 eternal happiness." — BoswelCs ^^ Life of JoJuison^' Pages 
 169, 188. 
 
lat pas- 
 ics, and 
 it once 
 capable. 
 
 an who 
 ouls of 
 
 )raycrs 
 yed for 
 be law- 
 is dead 
 1 mc, I 
 my de^ 
 ever is 
 ler into 
 Pages 
 
 \ 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 325 
 
 THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY. 
 
 lilRNETr.' 
 
 The Council of Trent declared, as the faith of tlie 
 Catholic Church,"///^?/ //u-fr is a Purgatory , and that the 
 souls there detained are helped by the suffrages of the faith- 
 ful^ but prineipally by the aeeep table sacrifiee of the altar J" 
 
 This is all that is required to be believed. As to the 
 kind and measure of the purifyini^ punishment, the 
 Church defines nothing". This doctrine has been very 
 much misrepresented, and has most generally been at- 
 tacked by sarcasm and denunciation. But is this a satis- 
 factory method to treat a grave matter of faith, coming 
 down to us from the olden times? The doctrine of Pur- 
 gatory is most intimately connected with the doctrine of 
 sacramental absolution and satisfaction, and legitimately 
 springs from it. That there is a distinction in the guilt 
 of different sins, must be conceded. All our criminal 
 laws, and those of all nations, are founded upon this idea. 
 To say that the smallest transgression, the result of inad- 
 vertence, is equal in enormity to the greatest and most 
 deliberate crime, is utterly opposed to the plain nature 
 of all law, and to the word of God, which assures us that 
 men shall be punished or rewarded according to their 
 works (Rom. ii. 6), as not to require any refutation. Our 
 T.ord assures us that men must give an account in the 
 day of judgment for every idle word they speak (Matt. 
 xii. 36), and St. John tells us that nothing defiled shall 
 enter heaven (Rev. xxi. 27). Then St. John says there is 
 a sin unto death, and there is a sin which is not unto 
 death (i John, v. 16), and he also tells us that "all un- 
 righteousness is sin ; and there is a sin not unto death." 
 So we are told by the same apostle, that if we confess 
 our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us (i John, 
 i. 9). 
 
 ' ti^,?^:' his work, " The Path which Led a Protestant Lawyer to the Cath- 
 olic Church," p. 637. 
 
 i I 
 
 il 
 
 i .'■ 
 
..jiHr; 
 
 ^^^■^nmmmmm&i^mm. 
 
 326 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Now wc must put all these texts together, and give 
 them their full, harmonious, and consistent force. We 
 must carry out the principles laid down to their fair and 
 logical results. Suppose, then, a man speak an idle word, 
 and die suddenly, before he has time to repent and con- 
 fess his sin, will he be lost everlastingly ? Must there 
 not, in the very nature of Christ's system, be a middle 
 state, wherein souls can be purged from their lesser sins ? 
 
 MALLOCK ON PURGATORY. 
 
 To those who believe in Purgatory, to pray for the 
 dead is as natural and rational as to pray for the living. 
 Next, as to this doctrine of Purgatory itself — which has 
 so long been a stumbling-block to the whole Protestant 
 world — time goes on, and the view men take of it is 
 changing. It is becoming fast recognized on all sides 
 that it is the only doctrine that can bring a belief in 
 future rewards and punishments into anything like ac- 
 cordance with our notions of what is just or reasonable. 
 So far from its being a superfluous superstition, it is seen 
 to be just what is demanded at once by reason and moral- 
 ity, and a belief in it to be not an intellectual assent, but 
 a partial harmonizing of the whole moral ideal. — IV. If. 
 Mallock, ''Is Life Worth Living^' Page 297. 
 
 1 William Iluircll Mallock, the author of "Is Life Worth Living," fiom 
 which this extract is given, and of several other recent works, was, at the 
 time when the above was written, as he says himself in his dedication, "an 
 outsider in philosophy, literature, and theology," and not, as might be sup- 
 posed, a Catholic. It has been positively asserted, and as positively denied, 
 that he has since entered the Church. But it is certain that he has not done 
 so. Mallock is not a Catholic— Compiler's Note. 
 
 \ . 
 
 i 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 327 
 
 BOIIEAU-DESPREAUX AND PRAYER FOR THE DEAD. , 
 
 We love to sec the truth of our dogmas proclaimed 
 from amid the great assembUes of choice inteUigences. 
 Boileau did ncjt hesitate to do homage to the CatlioUc 
 doctrine of Purgatory on the following solemn occasion : — 
 
 1:| 
 
 ' fiom 
 
 at the 
 
 on, " an 
 
 be sup- 
 
 denied, 
 
 lot done 
 
 
 On the death of Fureticre, the French Academy delib- 
 erated whether they would have a funeral service for 
 him, according to the ancient custom of the establish- 
 ment. Despreaux, who had taken no part in the expul- 
 sion of his former associate, gave expression, when he 
 was no more, to the language of courageous piety, lie 
 feared not to express himself in these words: "Gentle- 
 men, there are three things to be considered here — God, 
 the public, and the vVcademy. As regards God, lie will, 
 undoubtedly, be well pleased if you sacrifice your resent- 
 ment for His sake and offer prayers to Him for the repose 
 of a fellow-member, who has more need of them than 
 others, were it only on account of the animosity he 
 showed towards you. Before the public, it will be a glo- 
 rious thing for you not to pursue your enemy beyond 
 the grave. And as for the A.cademy, its moderation will 
 be meritorious, when it answers insults by prayers, and 
 does not deny a Christian the resources offered by the 
 Church for appeasing the anger of God, all the more that, 
 besides the indispensable obligation of praying to God 
 for your enemies, you have made for yourselves a special 
 law to pray for your associates." 
 
 
 I '1 
 
 liii 
 
 'II 
 
 
.^isefefjgj?^^ 
 
 <»*»;«»«*■>< 1 1 I 'luJ iii 
 
 LUtaKMtMMiUau..,' 
 
 328 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ALL SAINTS AND ALL SOULS. > 
 
 MRS. J. SADI.IER. 
 
 Of all the sublime truths which it is the pride and hap- 
 piness of Christians to believe, none is more beautiful, 
 more consoling- than that of the Communion of Saints. 
 Do we fully realize the meaning of that particular article 
 of our faith ? From their earliest infancy Christian chil- 
 dren repeat, at their mother's knee, " I believe in the 
 Communion of Saints ; '' but it is only when the mind has 
 attained a certain stage of development that they begin 
 to feel the inestimable privilege of being in the Com- 
 munion of Saints. 
 
 But how sad to think that even in later life many 01 
 those whose childhood lisped " 1 believe in the Com- 
 munion of Saints," neither know, nor care to know, what 
 it means. Outside the Church who believes in the Com- 
 munion of Saints? — who rejoices in the glory of the glo- 
 rified, or invokes their intercession with God ? Who 
 believes in that state of probation whereby the earth- 
 stains arc washed from the souls of men? Who has 
 compassion on "the spirits who are in prison?" To 
 Catholics only is the Communion of Saints a reality, a 
 soul-rejoicing truth. How inestimable is the privilege 
 of being truly and indeed " of the household of faith," — 
 within and of '* the Church of the Saints," the Church 
 that alone connects the life which is and that which is to 
 come, the living and the dead ! 
 
 Year by year we are reminded of this truth, so solemn 
 and so beautiful, the Communion of Saints, by the double 
 festival of All Saints and All Souls — when the Church 
 invites her children of the Militant Church to rejoice 
 with her on the glory of her Saints, and to pray with her 
 for the holy dead who are still in the purgatorial fire that 
 
 ' New York 7'a/'/c'/, Nov. 12, 1870 
 
 dk> 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 3-9 
 
 is to prepare them for that blessed abode into which 
 " nothing dehled can enter." 
 
 Grand and joyous is the feast of the Saints, when we 
 lovini^ly honor all our brethren who have j^ained theii* 
 thrones in Heaven, and with faith and hope invoke their 
 l)()werful aid, that we, too, may come where they are, 
 and be partakers in their eternal blessedness ; solemn and 
 sad, but most sweetly soothinj^' to the heart of faith, is 
 the day of All Souls, when the altars are draped in black, 
 and the chant is mournful, and sacrihce is offered, the 
 wliole world over, for the dead who have slept in Cluist, 
 with the blessing of the Church upon them. For them, 
 if they still have need of succor, are all tlie good works 
 of the faithful offered up, and the prayers of all the Saints 
 and all the Angels inv(jked, not only on the second day 
 of N(^vember, but on every day of that mournful month. 
 
 Thus do we, who are still on earth, honor the glorified 
 Saints of God, and invoke them for ourselves and for the 
 blessed souls who may yet be debarred from the joys of 
 Heaven. And this is truly the Communion of Saints — 
 the Church on earth, the Church in Heaven, the Churcli 
 in Purgatory, distinct, yet united, the children of one 
 common Father, who is God ; of one common M(jther, 
 who is Mary, the Virgin ever Blessed. 
 
 LEIBNITZ' ON THE MASS AS A PROPITIATORY SAC- 
 RIFICE. 
 
 No new efficacy is superadded to the efficacy of the 
 Passion from this propitiatory vSacrifice, repeated for tlie 
 remission of sins ; but its entire efficacy consists in the 
 representation and application of the first bloody Sacri- 
 fice, the fruit of wdiich is tlie Divine Grace bestowed on 
 all those who, being present at this tremendous sacrifice, 
 
 ' Gottfried Wilhclm von Leibnitz, the eminent Protestant philosopher. 
 The above is from his " Systema Thcologicum." 
 
MSJKSJi i3ft.«».S»»«B,i)SS* *«*.«• 1 .*4!il»;«i^fw 
 
 SOB 
 
 330 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 worthily celebrate the oblation in unison with the priest. 
 And since, in addition to the remission of eternal punish- 
 ment, and the <^ilt of the merits of Christ for the hope of 
 eternal life, we further ask of God, for ourselves and 
 others, both liviui^ and dead, many otiier salutary gifts 
 (and amongst those, the chief is the mitigation of that 
 paternal chastisement which is due to every sin, even 
 though the penitent be restored to favor) ; it is therefore 
 clearly manifest that there is nothing in our entire wor- 
 ship more precious than the sacritice of this Divine Sac- 
 rament, in which the Body of Our Lord itself is present. 
 
 Af 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM "A TROUBLED HEART." 
 
 How often have I been touched at the respect paid the 
 dead in Catholic countries ; at the reverence with which 
 the business man, hastening to fulfil the duties of the 
 hour, pauses and lifts his hat as the funeral of the un- 
 known passes him in the street! What pity streams from 
 the eyes of the poor woman who kneels in her humble 
 doorway, and, crossing herself, prays for the repose of 
 the soul that was never known to her in this life ; but the 
 body is borne towards the cemetery, and she joins her 
 prayer to the many that are freely offered along the 
 solemn way (pp. 15 1-2). 
 
 vV -A- -^ % % 'A- * 
 
 So passes the faithful soul to judgment ; after which, if 
 not ushered at once into the ineffable glory of the Father, 
 it pauses for a season in the perpetual twilight of that 
 border-land where the spirit is purged of the very mem- 
 ory of sin. Even as Our Lord Himself descended into 
 Limbo ; as He died for us, but rose again from the dead 
 and ascended into heaven, so we hope to rise and follow 
 Him, — sustained by the unceasing prayers of the Church, 
 the intercession of the Saints, and all the choirs of the 
 just, who are called on night and day, and also by the 
 
 .. 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 331 
 
 I priest, 
 punisli- 
 hopc ot 
 cs and 
 •y gifts 
 of that 
 1, even 
 ercfore 
 re wor- 
 iie Sac- 
 )resent. 
 
 aiu the 
 
 L whicli 
 
 of the 
 
 he im- 
 
 Hs from 
 
 nimble 
 
 :)ose ot 
 
 Dut the 
 
 ns her 
 
 ng the 
 
 lich, if 
 ather, 
 )f that 
 mem- 
 d into 
 e dead 
 follow 
 hurch, 
 of the 
 3y the 
 
 .. 
 
 prayers and pleadings of those who have loved us, and 
 who are still in the land of the living. 
 
 The prayers that case the pangs of Pnrgatory, the AV- 
 quicni, the Miserere^ the Dc Profu)idis — these are the golden 
 stairs upon which the soul of the redeemed ascends into 
 everlasting joy. Even the Protestant l.iureate of luigland 
 has confessed the poetical justice and truth of this, and 
 into the mouth of tlie dying Arthur— that worthy knight 
 — he puts these words : 
 
 " Pray for my soul ! More thincjs nrc wmuiilit hy prayer 
 'J'han this world dreams of; wherefore let thy voice- 
 Rise like a fountain for me ni,y;lit and day; 
 For, what are men better than slice i) or goats 
 That nourish a blind life within the l)rain, 
 If, knowing CJod, they lift not hands of prayer 
 Both for themselves and those who call thcni friend? 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." ' 
 
 O ye gentle spirits that have gone before me, and who 
 are now, I trust, dwelling in the gardens of Paradise, be- 
 side the river of life that flows through the midst thereof, 
 — ye whose names I name at the Memorial for the Dead 
 in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass, — as ye look upon the 
 lovely and shining countenances of the elect, and, per- 
 chance, upon the beauty of our Heavenly Ouccn, and 
 upon her Son in glory, — () remember me who am still 
 this side of the Valley of the Shadow, and in the midst of 
 trials and tribulations. And you who have read these 
 pages, written from the heart, after much sorrow and 
 long suffering, though I be still with you in the flesh, or 
 this poor body be gathered to its long home, — you whose 
 ej^es are now fixed upon this line, I beseech you, 
 
 Pray for iiic ! — Anon. 
 
 ' These exquisite lines will be found elsewhere in this volume in the full 
 description of King Arthur's death from Tennyson. But thev boar repeti- 
 tion. 
 
■L-IMt^^* 
 
 •-wr»>«0|))tgiiii»|||'|,li ,i« 
 
 . 
 
 332 
 
 rUKUATORV. 
 
 EUGENIE DE GUERIN AND HER BROTHER MAURICE. 
 
 fill Kii,i,'('nic (Ic CiUt'iiM's jomiial wi- fiiul the folIovviiiL; IxMiitiful words 
 wrillcn wliilu her lovint; licait was still lilccclin,!,' lor llic c.uly tkalli ol li< r 
 bcst-lovcd brother, Maui ice — her twin soul, as slie was wont to call him. J 
 
 "() rkoFU.NDrrY ! () mysteries of tliat otlicr life that 
 scjxiratcs us ! I who was always so anxious about him, 
 who wanted so much to know evcrytiiiniL!;-, wherever lie 
 may be now there is an end to tliat. I follow him into 
 the three abodes ; I stop at that of bliss ; I pass on to the 
 place of sufferinj;-, the j^ulf of fire. My (iod, my God, 
 not so! Let not my brother be there, let him not! He 
 is not there. What ! his soul, the soul of Maurice, amoni;- 
 the reprobate! .... Horrible dread, no ! JJut in 
 Puri^atory, })erhaps, where one suffers, where one expi- 
 ates the weaknesses of the heart, the doubts of the soul, 
 the half-inclinations to evil. Perhai)s my brother is 
 there, sufferiui^;- and callin^^ to us in his panics as he used 
 to do in bodily pain, ' Relieye me, 3'ou who love me!' 
 Yes, my friend, by prayer. I am i^oinj^ to pray. 1 have 
 ])rayed so much, and always shall. Prayer? Oh, yes, 
 prayers for the dead , they are the dew of l^irgatory." 
 
 All Souls — Mow different this day is from all others, in 
 church, in the soul, without, within. It is impossible to 
 tell all one feels, thinks, sees again, regrets. There is no 
 adequate expression for all this except in prayer. . . . 
 I have not \v'ritten here, but to some one to whom I have 
 promised so long as I live, a letter on All Souls'. . . . 
 
 my friend, my brother, Maurice ! Maurice ! art thou 
 far from me ? dost thou hear me ? What are they, those 
 abodes that hold thee now ? . . . . Mysteries of 
 another life, how profound, how terrible ye are — some- 
 times, how sweet ! 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 » r 
 
 sh 
 
* • 
 
 w 
 
 IIIULGIIIS Oi- \AKU)IS AUTIKJUS. J,^^ 
 
 PASSAGES FROM THE VIA MEDIA. 
 
 [Written while Cardinal Newman was still an .\ni;li(.an.| 
 
 ' Now, as to tlic ]>iinisli!iicnts and satisfactions tor sins, 
 tlic texts to which liic miiuis ot ti»c carlv cMuisliaiis scciii 
 t;) iiavc been |)riiKij)allv (h'awn, aiul iVotn which thi-v 
 ventured to ari^uc in bciiaUOl these va^uc notions, were 
 tliesc two: 'The lire siiail try every man's work,' etc.. 
 and ' lie shall l)ai)tize yon witli the lloly (Ihost and witii 
 tire.' These passajj^es, with which many more were 
 found to accord, directed their thouii^hts one wav, as 
 niakini^ mention of lire, whatever was meant by the 
 word, as the instrument of trial and purification ; and 
 that, at some time between the ])resent time and the 
 Judj^ment, or at the Judj^ment. .\s the doctrine, thus 
 su'j^ij^ested by certain strikini^ texts, ^rew in popularity 
 and defmitencss, and verj^ed towards its present Roman 
 form, it seemed a key to many others. Great portions of 
 the books of I'salms, Job, and the Lamentations, which 
 express the feelings of religious men mulcr sufferinij;-, 
 would })()werfully recommend it by the forcible and most 
 affectinj^ and awful meaninii^ which they received from it. 
 When this was once suirirested, all oth.cr meanin^fs would 
 seem tame and inadcijuate. 
 
 To these may l)e added various passages from the 
 prophets, as that in the beginning of the third chapter of 
 Malachi, which speaks of ftre as the instrument of puri- 
 fication, when Christ comes to visit His Church. 
 
 INIoreovcr, there were other texts of obscure and inde- 
 terminate meaning, which seem on this hypothesis to 
 receive a profitable meaning; such as Our Lord's words 
 in the Sermon on the Mount, " Verily, 1 say unto thee, 
 thou shalt by no means come out thence till thou hast 
 paid the uttermost farthing ; " and St. John's expression 
 in the Apocalypse, that, " no man in heaven, nor in earth, 
 neither under the earth, was able to open the book." — r/a 
 Media, pp. 174-177. 
 
 I 
 
334 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Most men, to our apprehensions, arc too little formed in 
 religious habits either for heaven or for hell; yet there is 
 no middle state when Christ comes in judgment. In 
 consequence, it is obvious to have recourse to the inter- 
 
 val before His coming, as a 
 
 time during which 
 
 this 
 
 m- 
 
 completeness may be remedied, as a season, not of chang- 
 ing the spiritual bent and character of the soul departed, 
 whatever that be, for probation ends with mortal life, but 
 of developing it in a more determinate form, whether of 
 good or evil. Again, when the mind once allows itself 
 to speculate, it will discern in such a provision a means 
 whereby those who, not without true faith at bottom, 
 yet have committed great crimes, or those who have 
 been carried off in youth while still undecided, or who 
 die after a barren, though not immoral or scandalous life, 
 may receive such chastisement as may prepare them for 
 heaven, and render it consistent with God's justice to 
 admit them thither. Again, the inequality of the suffer- 
 ings of Christians in this life compared one with another, 
 leads the mind to the same speculations ; the intense suf- 
 fering, for instance, which some men undergo on their 
 death-bed, seeming as if but an anticipation in their case 
 of what comes after death upon others, who, without 
 greater claims on God's forbearance, live without chas- 
 tisement and die easily. The mind will inevitably dwell 
 upon such thoughts, unless it has been taught to subdue 
 them by education or by the fear of the experience of 
 their dangerousness. — P^i'a Media, pp. 174-177. 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 335 
 
 "ormcd in 
 t there is 
 lent. In 
 he inter- 
 
 this in- 
 )f chang- 
 lepartcd, 
 i life, but 
 lether of 
 ws itself 
 a means 
 
 bottom, 
 ho have 
 , or who 
 lous life, 
 hem for 
 stice to 
 c suffer- 
 anothcr, 
 ;i.se suf- 
 )n their 
 eir case 
 without 
 it chas- 
 y dwell 
 
 subdue 
 ence of 
 
 0l 
 
 ^"^ 
 
 i 
 
 ALL SOULS. 
 
 FROM THE FRENCH. 
 
 NoVEiMBER is come ; and the pleasant verdure that the 
 groves and woods offered to our view in the joyous 
 spring is fast losing its cheerful hue, while its withered 
 remains lie trembling and scattered beneath our feet. 
 The grave and plaintive voice of the consecrated bell 
 sends forth its funereal tones, and, recalling the dead to 
 our pensive souls, implores for them the pity of the living. 
 Oh I let us hearken to its thrilling call ; and may the 
 sanctuary gather us together within its darkened walls, 
 there to invoke our Eternal Father, and breathe forth 
 cherished names in earnest prayer ! 
 
 When the solemn hour of the last farewell was come 
 for those we loved, and their weakened sight was extin- 
 guished forever, it seemed as if our hearts' memory 
 would be eternal, and as if those dear ones would never 
 be Ibrgotten. But time has fled, their memory has grown 
 dim, and other thoughts reign paramoimt in our forget- 
 ful hearts, which barely give them from time to time a 
 pious recollection. 
 
 Nevertheless, they loved us, perhaps too well, lavish of 
 a love that Heaven demanded. How devoted was their 
 affection ; and shall we now requite it by a cruel forget- 
 fulness? Oh! if they suffer still on our account; if, be- 
 cause of their weakness, they still feel the wrath of God's 
 justice, shall we not pray, when their voices implore our 
 help, when their tears ascend towards us? 
 
 Alas ! in this life what direful contamination clings to 
 the steps of irresolute mortals ! Who has not wavered in 
 the darksome paths into which the straight road so often 
 deviates ? 
 
 The infinite justice of the God of purity perhaps retains 
 them in the dungeons of death. Alas ! for long and long 
 the Haven of eternal life may be closed against them! 
 
n 
 
 t: 
 
 33<J 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Oh, let us pray ; our voices will open the abode of celes- 
 tial peace unto the imprisoned soul. The God of conso- 
 lation i;ave us prayer, that love might thus become eter- 
 nal. — The Lamp, Nov. 5, 1864. 
 
 AN ANGLICAN BISHOP PRAYING FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 Foremost amonj^ later Anglican divines in piety, in 
 learning, and in the finer qualities of head and heart, 
 stands the name of Reginald Heber, Bishop of the Estab- 
 lishment, whose gentle memory, — embalmed in several 
 graceful and musical poems, chiefly on religious subjects, 
 — is still revered and cherished by his co-religionists, 
 respected and admired even by those v.ho see in him 
 only the man and the poet — not the religious teacher. I 
 am happy to lay before -my readers the following extract 
 from a letter of Bishop Heber, in which that amiable and 
 accomplished prelate expresses his belief in the efficac ; 
 of prayers for the departed : 
 
 " Few persons, I believe, have lost a beloved objecc, 
 more particularly by sudden death, without feeling an 
 earnest desire to recommend them in their prayers to 
 God's mercy, and a sort of instinctive impression that 
 such devotions might still be serviceable to them. 
 
 * 4V -X- -k Ht * Hi 
 
 " Having been led attentively to consider the question, 
 my own opinion is, on the whole, favorable to the prac- 
 tice, wliich is, indeed, so natural and so comfortable, that 
 this alone is a presumption that it is neither unpleasing 
 to the Almighty nor unavailing with Him. 
 
 " The Jews, so far back as their opinions and practices 
 can be traced since the time of Our Saviour, have uni- 
 formly recommended their deceased friends to mercy ; 
 and from a passage in the Second Book of Maccabees, it 
 appears that, from whatever source they derived it, they 
 hud the same custom before His time. But if this were 
 
 u\ 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 
 the case, the practice can hardly be unlawful, or cither 
 Christ or His Apostles would, one should think, have, 
 in some of their writings or discourses, condemned it. 
 On the same side it may be observed that the Greek 
 Church, and all the Eastern Churches, pray for the dead ; 
 and that we know the practice to have been un^'vcrsal, or 
 nearly so, among the Christians a little more than one 
 hundred and fifty years after Our Saviour. It is s{)oken 
 of as the usual custom by TertuUian and Epipbanius. 
 Augustine, in his Confessions, has given a beautiful prayer 
 which he himself used for his deceased mother, Monica ; 
 and among Protestants, Luther and Dr. Johnson are 
 eminent instances of the same conduct. I have, accord- 
 ingly, been myself in the habit, for some years, of recom- 
 mending on some occasions, as, after receiving the sacra- 
 ment, etc., my lost friends by name to God's goodness 
 and compassion, through His Son, as what can do them no 
 harm, and may, and I hope will, be of service to them." 
 
 IP 
 
 \ 
 
 ■!' 
 
 ii]. 
 
 
 Ill 
 
 ^ ' 
 
 ' 1 
 
^-' ffiSill^Mfct-l'. ■ 
 
 ^^i^'j^-Uiaii.Ww" 
 
 ;8 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 THE "PURGATORY" OF DANTE, 
 
 MARIOTTI. 
 
 In the course of his remarks upon the Divina Conicdia 
 of Dante, a bitter opponent of the Holy See and of ev^ery- 
 thing Catholic, Mariotti,' an apostle of United Italy, ex- 
 presses his views upon the ancient doctrine of Purga- 
 tory. These views are but an instance of how its beauty 
 and truthfulness to nature strike the minds of those who 
 have strayed from the centre of Christian unity. 
 
 " To say nothing of its greatness and goodness, the 
 poem of Dante," says Mariotti, " is the most curious of 
 books. The register of the past, noting down every in- 
 cident within the compass of man's nature. . . . Dante 
 is the annalist, the interpreter, the representative of the 
 Middle Ages. . . . The ideas of mankind were in 
 those * da}'k ' ages perpetually revolving upon that * life 
 beyond life,' which the omnipresent religion of \hn.i fanat- 
 ical ^go loved to people with appalling phantoms and har- 
 rowing terrors. Dante determined to anticipate his final 
 doom, and still, in the flesh, to break through the thresh- 
 old of eternity, and explore the kingdom of death. . . . 
 No poet ever struck upon a subject to which every fibre 
 in the heart of his contemporaries more readily responded 
 than Dante. It is not for me to test the soundness of the 
 Roman Catholic doctrine of Purgatory, or to inquire 
 which of the Holy Fathers first dreamt of its existence. 
 It was, however, a sublime contrivance, unscriptural 
 though it may be — a conception full of love and charity, 
 in so far as it seemed to arrest the dead on the threshold 
 of eternity ; and making his final welfare partly depend- 
 ent on the pious exertions of those who were left behind, 
 established a lastincf interchansfe of tender feelinirs, cm- 
 
 ' Mariotti, autlior of " Italy Past and Present," an unscrupulous opponent 
 of llie Papacy and of the Church, 
 
^la Conicdia 
 \ of every- 
 1 Italy, cx- 
 of Piirga- 
 its beauty 
 those who 
 
 )dncss, the 
 curious of 
 1 every in- 
 . . Dante 
 tive of the 
 [d were in 
 1 that * life 
 XkvdXfanat- 
 ns and har- 
 ite his final 
 the thresh- 
 ith. . . . 
 
 very fibre 
 responded 
 ness of the 
 to inquire 
 
 existence, 
 iscriptural 
 
 d charity, 
 
 threshold 
 ly depend- 
 eft behind, 
 slinijs, cm- 
 
 ous opponent 
 
 ' 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 339 
 
 balmed the memory of the departed, and by a posthu- 
 mous tic wedded him to the mourning survivor. . . . 
 Woe to the man, in Dante's age, who sunk into his grave 
 without bequeathing a heritage of love ; on whose sod no 
 refreshing dew of sorrowing affection descended. Lonely 
 as his relics in the sepulchre, his spirit wandered in the 
 dreaded region of probation ; alone he was left defence- 
 less, prayerless, friendless to settle his awful score with 
 unmitigated justice. It is this feeling, unrivalled for 
 poetic beauty, that gives color and tone to the second 
 division of Dante's poem. The five or six cantos, at the 
 opening, have all the milk of human nature that entered 
 into the composition of that miscalled saturnine mind. 
 With little more than two words, the poet makes us 
 aware that we have come into happier latitudes. Every 
 strange visitor breathes love and forgiveness. The 
 shade we meet is only charged with tidings of joy to the 
 living, and messages of good will. The heart lightens 
 and brightens at every new stratum of the atmosphere in 
 that rising region ; the ascent is easy and light, like the 
 gliding of a boat down the stream. The angels we be- 
 come familiar with are angels of light, such as human 
 imagination never before nor afterwards conceived. 
 They come from afar across the waves, piloting the 
 barge that conve3's the chosen spirits to heaven, balanc- 
 ing themselves on their wide-spread wings, using them 
 as sails, disdaining the aid of all mortal contrivance, and 
 relying on their inexhaustible strength ; red and rayless 
 at first, from the distance, as the planet Mars when he 
 appears struggling through the mist of the horizon, but 
 growing brighter and brighter with amazing swiftness. 
 They stand at the gate of Purgatory, they guard the en- 
 trance to each of the seven steps of its mountain — some 
 with green vesture, vivid as new-budding leaves, grace- 
 fully waving and floating in simple drapery, fanned by 
 their wings; bearing in their hands flaming swords 
 broken at the point ; others, ash-colored garments ; 
 others again, in flashing armor, but all beaming with so 
 
f! 
 
 ywww WHiBii jj iJ^ 
 
 
 340 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 intense, so overwhelming a light, that dizziness over- 
 comes all mortal ken, whenever directed to their counte- 
 nance. The friends of the poet's youth one by one arrest 
 his march, and engage him in tender converse. The 
 very laws of immutable fate seem for a few moments sus- 
 ])ended to allow full scope for the interchange of affec- 
 tionate sentiments. The overawincf consciousness of the 
 l)lace he is in, for a moment forsakes the mortal visitor 
 so miraculously admitted into the world of spirits. He 
 throws his arms round the neck of the beloved shade, 
 and it is only by the smile irradiating its countenance 
 that he is reminded of the intangibility of its ethereal 
 substance. The episodes of *'the Purgatory " are mostly 
 of this sad and tender description. The historical person- 
 ages introduced seem to have lost their own identity, 
 and to have merged into a blessed calmness, character- 
 izing medium of the region they arc all travelling 
 through." 
 
 It is plain that, bitterly hostile as is this faithless Italian 
 to the Ciuirch of his fatliers, and the truth which it 
 teaches, his poetic instinct, at least, rises above mere 
 I)rejudice, and enables him to penetrate into that dim but 
 holy atmosphere created by the poet's genius, and yet 
 more fully by the poet's faith. This homage to the union 
 of religious grandeur, natural tenderness, and supernat- 
 ural fervent charity, which make this doctrine uncon- 
 sciously dear to every human heart, is of value coming 
 from the pen of so prejudiced a witness. It is but one of 
 countless testimonies that in all times, and in all ages, 
 have sprung from the heart of man, as it were in his own 
 despite. 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 341 
 
 t 
 
 iness over- 
 cir countc- 
 ' one arrest 
 crsc. The 
 )nients siis- 
 ^c of afl'ee- 
 ness of the 
 irtal visitor 
 pirits. He 
 vcd shade, 
 Duntenance 
 ts ethereal 
 are mostly 
 cal person- 
 n identity, 
 character- 
 travelling 
 
 less Italian 
 1 which it 
 )ove mere 
 at dim but 
 s, and yet 
 ) the union 
 supernat- 
 ne uncon- 
 le coming 
 but one of 
 1 all ages, 
 in his own 
 
 
 THE MONTH OF NOVEMBER.' 
 
 MARY K. BI.AKIC (mAKIK). 
 
 It is but a few days since the Church has celebrated 
 the triumph of her saints, rejoicing in the eternal felicity 
 of that innumerable throng whom she has given to the 
 celestial Sion. She invites us to share her joy. She bids 
 us look U|^ from the rugged pathway of our thorn-strewn 
 pilgrimage to that blissful abode which is to be the term 
 and the reward of all our trials. Yet, like a true mother, 
 she cannot forget that portion of her family who are sigh- 
 ing for their deliverance, in that region of pain to which 
 they are consigned by eternal justice. On one day she 
 sings with radiant brow and tones of jubilee her Snrsiini 
 Corda ; on the next, she kneels a suppliant, chanting with 
 uplifted hands and tearful eyes her Requiem JEtcrnaiii ; 
 and we, the companions of her exile, shall we not sympa- 
 thize with every emotion of the heart of our tender 
 Mother.? 
 
 Among the pious customs which owe their existence to 
 the fertile spirit of Catholic devotion is that which dedi- 
 cates the month of November to the ^Suffering Souls in 
 Purgatory. It would seem as though the annual circle 
 of commemorative devotion were incomplete without this 
 crowning fulfilment of charity. 
 
 Some years since, I met with a graphic description of 
 a spectacle in the Catholic Cemetery of New Orleans. 
 It was the 2d of November, when the friends and relatives 
 of the dead came to scatter emblematic wreaths and 
 sweet-scented flowers on their graves. This custon\ was 
 observed by the French Catholics and their descend- 
 ants ; and the writer, although a Protestant, was deeply 
 im])rcssed with its beauty and signiftcance. lie asked 
 why, among Americans, there was so little of tliis elo- 
 quent affection for the dead. He might have found an 
 
 > New York Tabid, Nov. 26, 1S59. 
 
342 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 answer in the fact that the principle of faith was want- 
 ing- — of that vivid and active faith whicli seeks and hnds 
 by such means its outward manifestation. 
 
 \Vc, also, are the children of the wSaints. We have in- 
 herited from them the same faith in all its integrity, and 
 how does owx practice correspond with it? What are we 
 doing for that army of holy captives who cannot leave 
 their prison till the uttermost farthing be paid ? Let us 
 not imitate those tepid Christians who arc satisfied with 
 erecting costly monuments, and observing, with scrupu- 
 lous exactness, the usual period of '' mourning," while 
 the poor souls are left to pine forgotten, if they have gone 
 with some lingering stains — some earthly tarnish on their 
 nuptial garment. Ah ! there is so much that might be 
 done if we would only reflect, and let our hearts be soft- 
 ened by the intense eloquence of their mute appeal. . . 
 
 These arc a few of the thoughts suggested by the late 
 solemnity, and perhaps they cannot be concluded more 
 appropriately than by introducing the following poem, 
 found in an old magazine. If the theme be sufficient to 
 inspire thus one who had but faint glimmerings of divine 
 truth, what should be expected of us, who rejoice in the 
 fullness of that light? I twine, then, this flower of the 
 desert with the leaves I have gathered, and offer my 
 humble wreath as a tribute of faith and affection on the 
 altar dedicated to the dear departed. 
 November^ 1859. 
 
 LITANY OF THE DEPARTED. 
 
 It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pra '"-^r the dead. — II. 
 Mach. xii. 26. 
 
 For the spirits who have fled 
 From the earth which once they trod ; 
 
 For the loved and faithful dead. 
 We beseech the living God ! 
 Oh ! receive and love them ! 
 
 By the grave where Thou wcrt lying. 
 
 By the anguish of Thy dying. 
 
was want- 
 ancl iinds 
 
 2 have in- 
 grity, and 
 lat are we 
 inot leave 
 ? Let us 
 sfied with 
 h scrupii- 
 g," while 
 lave gone 
 h on their 
 might be 
 ts be soft- 
 )eal. . . 
 /■ the late 
 led more 
 ig poem, 
 ficient to 
 of divine 
 ce in the 
 2r of the 
 offer my 
 11 on the 
 
 dead. — II. 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 Spread Thy wings above them ; 
 Grant Thy pardon unto them, 
 JJomi CIS nqnicm ! 
 
 Long they suffered here below, 
 
 Outward fightings, inward fears; 
 Ate the eheerless bread of woe, — 
 Drank tiie bitter wine of tears: — 
 Now receive and love them ! 
 By Thy holy Saints' departures, 
 By the witness of Thy martyrs, 
 
 Spread Thy wings above them. 
 On the souls in gloom who sit, 
 Lux ctcrtia liiccat ! 
 
 Lord, remember that they wept, 
 
 When Thy children would divide; 
 Lord, remember that they slept 
 On the bosom of Thy Bride; 
 And receive and love them ! 
 By the tears Thou couldst not smother; 
 By the love of Thy dear Mother, 
 Spread Thy wings above them. 
 To their souls, in bliss with Thee, 
 Dona paccni, Domini ! 
 
 Grant our prayers, and bid them pray, 
 
 O thou Flower of Jesse's stem ; 
 Lend a gracious ear when they 
 I'lead for us, as we for them. 
 Dais Angcloruin^ 
 Dona cis requiem^ 
 Et bcatitudincm, 
 Co7'dibus corum 
 Jcsu, qui sahitam das 
 Micat lumen animas ! 
 
 343 
 
 r 
 
 -Acolytus. 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
344 
 
 '■,. 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ALL SOULS' DAY.' 
 
 MRS. J. SADI.IER. 
 
 Nothing in the wliolc ^rand scheme of Religion is 
 more beautiful than the tender care of the Church over 
 her departed children. Not content with providin<i^ for 
 their spiritual wants durinj:^ their lives, and sendin<i^ them 
 into eternity armed with and stren<^thened by the last 
 solemn Sacraments, blessin*^ their departure from, as she 
 blessed their entrance into, this world, her maternal solic- 
 itude follows them beyond the j^rave, and penetrates to 
 the dreary prison in the Middle State where, happily, 
 they may be, as the Apostle says, " cleansed so as by 
 fire." With the tender compassion of a fond mother, the 
 Church, our mother, yearns over the sufferings of her 
 children, all the dearer to her because they suffer in the 
 Lord, and by His holy will. 
 
 By every means within her power she aids these blessed 
 souls who are at once so near Heaven, and so far from 
 it ; by solemn prayers, by sacrifice, by continual remem- 
 brance of them in all her good works, she gives them 
 help and comfort herself, while encouraging the faithful 
 to imitate her example in that respect by numerous and 
 great Indulgences, and by the crown of eternal blessed- 
 ness she holds out to those who perform faithfully and 
 in her own proper spirit this Seventh Spiritual Work of 
 Mercy — " to pray for the living and the dcady In every 
 Mass that is said the long year round on each of her 
 myriad altars, a solemn commemoration is made for the 
 Dead immediately after the Elevation of the Sacred 
 Host, the great Atoning Sacrifice of the New Law ; in 
 all the other public offices of the Church, " the faithful 
 departed " are tenderly remembered, and, to crown the 
 efforts of her maternal charity, the second day of Novem- 
 ber of every year is set apart for the solemn remem- 
 brance of these her most beloved and most afflicted 
 children, for whose benefit and relief all the Masses of 
 
 » New York TabUl, Nov. 12, 18C4. 
 
 1 
 

 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS, 
 
 345 
 
 dig ion is 
 ircli over 
 idin^- for 
 in<r them 
 
 the last 
 m, as she 
 nal solic- 
 trates to 
 
 happily, 
 so as by 
 thcr, the 
 s of her 
 'er in the 
 
 cj blessed 
 far from 
 remem- 
 es them 
 5 faithful 
 ous and 
 blessed- 
 Lilly and 
 Vork of 
 n every 
 1 of her 
 for the 
 Sacred 
 -^aw ; in 
 faithful 
 •wn the 
 ^ovem- 
 remem- 
 ifflicted 
 Lsses of 
 
 > 
 
 that day throu<;hout the whole Catholic world arc spc^- 
 cially offered up. Nay, more than that, tlie entire month 
 of November is devoted to the wSouls in Puiij^atory, and 
 the good works and pious j^raycrs of all the holv com- 
 munities who spenti their lives in commune witli (iod 
 are offered up witii that benign intention during the 
 month. 
 
 In Catholic countries, the iaithful are touciiingly re- 
 minded of this sad thougli pleasing duty to their de- 
 parted brethren, by the tolling of the several convent 
 and church ' ':11s at eight o'clock in the evening, at wiiicli 
 time the different communities imite in reciting the sol- 
 emn I)i' Profundis, and other prayers for the dead. Sol- 
 emn and sonorous we have heard that i)assing-bell, year 
 after year, booming through the darkness and storm of 
 the November night in a northern land ' where the pious 
 customs of the best ages of France, transplanted over 
 two centuries ago, flourish still in their pristine beauty 
 and touching fervor. 
 
 But, though all Catholics may not hear the Dc Pro- 
 fundis bell of November nights, nor all households kneel 
 at evening hour to join in spirit with the pious communi- 
 ties who are praying then for the faithful departed, yet 
 all Catholics know when, on the first of November, they 
 celebrate the great and joyous festival of All Saints, that 
 the next day will bring the mournful solemnity of All 
 Souls, when the altars of the Church will be draped with 
 black, and her ministers robed in the same sombre garb, 
 whilst offering the " Clean Oblation" of the New Lav/ 
 for the souls who are yet in a state of purgation in the 
 other life. 
 
 To the deep heart of Catholic piety nothing can bo 
 more sensibly touching than *• the black Mass" of All 
 Souls' Day. If the feast be not celebrated by the laity as 
 it so faithfully is by the Church, it certainly ought to be, 
 if the spirit of the faith be still amongst them. The 
 funereal solemnity of the occasion touches the deepest, 
 
 ' Eastern, or French Canada, now known as the Province of Quebec. 
 
 ! 
 
 I i| 
 
 'i 
 
 
 Hi 
 
34<5 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 holiest sympathies in every true CathoUc iiearl, remind- 
 \\v^ eacli ol tlu'ir h)vc(l and h)sl, and filliiifj^ their souls 
 with the sootlnn<^ hope that tiie Clreat Sacrifice then 
 offered up for all the departed children of the Church 
 may release one or more of their nearest antl dearest 
 from the cleansin<^ lires of l*ur<^atory. Then, while the 
 funeral dirj^c hlls the sacred edifice, and the mournful 
 Dies IriC thrills the hearts of all, each one thinks of his 
 own departed ones, and recalls with indescribable sad- 
 ness other just such celebrations in the years lon^ past, 
 when those for whom they now invoke the mercy of 
 Heaven were still amon<^st the living. Then comes, too, 
 the solemn thoui^ht that some, i)erhaps many, of those 
 then present in lite and health may be numbered with the 
 dead before All Souls' Day comes round again, and a 
 voice from the depths of the Christian heart asks, " May 
 not I, too, be then with the dead ? " 
 
 When noting with surprise and regret how many 
 Catholics neglect the celebration of All Souls' Day, we 
 have often endeavored to account for such strange apathy. 
 Surely, if the charity of the Church do not inspire them 
 — if they do not feel, with the valiant Macchabeus of old, 
 tnat " it is a holy and a wholesome thought to pray for 
 the Dead that they may be loosed from their sins " — if 
 natural affection, even, do not move them to think of the 
 probable sufferings of their own near and dear — suffer- 
 ings which they may have it in their power to alleviate 
 — at least, a motive of self-interest ought to make them 
 reflect that when they themselves are with the dead, 
 retributive justice may leave them forgotten by thir 
 own flesh and blood, as they forget others now. But to 
 those who do faithfully unite with the Church in her 
 solemn commemoration of the faithful departed on All 
 Souls' Day, nothing can be more soothing to the deep 
 heart of human sadness, as nothing is more imposing, or 
 more strikingly illustrative of that Catholic charity, that 
 all-embracing charity which has its life and fountain 
 within the Church. 
 
 
t, rcmind- 
 licir souls 
 ilicc tlicn 
 c Church 
 1 dearest 
 while the 
 mournful 
 iks of his 
 'ai)le sad- 
 nn^ past, 
 mercy of 
 »mes, too, 
 of those 
 with the 
 in, and a 
 cs, " iMay 
 
 w many 
 Day, we 
 c apathy, 
 (ire them 
 lIS of old, 
 pray for 
 Sins — if 
 ik of the 
 — suflbr- 
 alleviate 
 ke them 
 le dead, 
 by th'ir 
 But to 
 1 in her 
 I on All 
 he deep 
 )sing, or 
 ity, that 
 fountain 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 347 
 
 
 
 CEMETERIES. 
 
 The respect due to cemeteries is too closely connected 
 with the doctrine of Purj^atory lb' us to omit observinij^ 
 here that those asylums of the dead, beiiiL; the objects of 
 pious •cverence, even amon^^^st infidels, ou<^ht to be still 
 more so amongst us. It was in this connection that 
 Mgr. Felletan, Arch-priest of the Cathedral of Algiers, 
 wrote thus on the 13th of March, 1843 • 
 
 "Here in Algici's. do ^vc not see, every Friday, the 
 ]M'.is.,alman Aiab, vvaniering pensively through his cem- 
 cteiy, pii'.cjni^ on sohm; venerated and beloved grave 
 bouquets of Hovvcr.:, branches of boxwood ; wrapped in 
 his bornousc. he sits for hours beside it, motionless and 
 thoughtful , lost '.1 gentle mvlaucholy, it would seem as 
 though he were holding' inliinate and mysterious con- 
 vcn,e with tii''; dear departed oiic: whose loss he de- 
 plores. . . . 
 
 " But for lis, Chr'.st\\ns. KourLilu-d, enlightened by the 
 truth of Go;!, what s(:ec:al honiage, • !?-it profound rev- 
 erence Wvj slioiild iTiapiie.>t tou'a'xis tiie remains of our 
 fathers, our brethren wlio died in the same faith ! Oh, 
 let us reniomber the firsf faithfui- th: martyrs — the cata- 
 combs ! The cemetery Is ior ur, ^iic land where grows 
 invsibly the harvcit (;{ tlic elect ; it is the slec])ing world 
 of i itelligencc ; sheltered are its ])eaceful slumbers in the 
 bosom of nacurc over yodiig, ever fruitful ; the crowd of 
 the dead pressed together beneath those crosses, under 
 those sratiered ilowcrs, is the crowd that will one day 
 rise to take possession of the infinite future, from which 
 i( IS only separated by some sods of turf. 
 
 " Hence how lively, how motherly has ever been the 
 solicitude of the Church in this respect ! She wishes 
 that the ground wherein repose the remains of her chil- 
 dren be blessed and consecrated ground ; she purifies it 
 with hyssop and holy water ; she calls down upon it by 
 
 Ji 
 
 3Krr 
 
348 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 her humble supplications, the benediction of Him who 
 disposes according to His will of things visible and in- 
 visible, of souls and of bodies ; she wishes that the cross 
 should rise in its midst, that her children may rest in 
 peace in its shade while awaiting the grand awaking ; 
 even as a temple and a sanctuary, she banishes from it 
 games, noise of all kinds, and even all that savors of lev- 
 ity or irreverence." — Dictionnairc d' Anecdotes Clire'tiens^ p. 
 
 993. 
 
 OPINIONS OF VARIOUS PROTESTANTS. 
 
 Some say, like Lessing in his " Treatise on Theology," 
 ** What hinders us from admitting a Purgatory ? as if the 
 great majority of Christians had not really adopted it. 
 No, this intermediate state being taught and recognized 
 by the ancient Church, notwithstanding the scandalous 
 abuses to which it gave rise, should not be absolutely re- 
 jected." 
 
 Others, with Dr. Forbes icontrov. pontif. princip., anno 
 1658): " IVayer for the dead, made use of from the 
 TIMES OF THE AposTLES, cannot be rejected as useless 
 by Protestants. They should respect the judgment ot 
 the primitive Church, and adopt a practice sanctioned 
 by the continuous belief of so many ages. We repeat 
 that prayer for the dead is a salutary practice." 
 
 Several others, rising to our point of view, drawing 
 their inspiration from the sources of Catholic charity, 
 tell you, with the theologian Collier (Part II. p. 100) : 
 '■'■ Prayer for the dead revives the belief in the immortal- 
 ity of the soul, withdraws the dark veil which covers the 
 tomb, and establishes relations between this world and 
 the other. Had it been preserved, we should probably 
 not have had amongst us so much incredulity. I cannot 
 conceive why our Church, which is so remote from the 
 primitive times of Christianity, should have abandoned 
 or disdained a custom that had never been interrupted ; 
 
!!'' 
 
 THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 349 
 
 
 [im who 
 I and in- 
 thc cross 
 y rest in 
 L waking ; 
 3 from it 
 s of lev- 
 "c'ticns, p. 
 
 eology," 
 as if the 
 :)pted it. 
 :og-nized 
 mdalous 
 Litely re- 
 
 ?/., aniio 
 OM THE 
 
 useless 
 rnent ot 
 ictioncd 
 3 repeat 
 
 drawing 
 charity, 
 I go) : 
 imortal- 
 vers the 
 rid and 
 robably 
 cannot 
 "om the 
 ndoned 
 rupted ; 
 
 D 
 
 I 
 
 which, on the contrary, as we have reason to believe 
 from Scripture, existed in ancient times ; which was 
 practiced in the Apostolic age, in the time of miracles 
 and revelations ; introduced amongst the articles of faitli, 
 and never rejected, except by Arius." 
 
 " It was evidently in use in the Church in the time of 
 St. Augustine, and down to the sixteenth century. If 
 we do nothing for our dead, if we omit to occupy our- 
 selves witii them and i)ray for them, as was formerly 
 done in the Holy Supper, we break off all intercourse 
 with the Saints ; and then, how could we dare to say 
 that we remain in communion with the blessed? And if 
 we break off in this way from the most noble part of the 
 universal Church, may it not be said that we mutilate our 
 belief and reject one of the articles of the Christian 
 faith?" 
 
 " Yes," says the German Sheldon, in his turn, " prayer 
 for the dead is one of the most ancient and most efhca- 
 cious practices of the Christian religion." 
 
 \o\x have just heard the sound of some bells ; listen 
 again and ycu shall hear something different. 
 
 You think, then, that there are Protestants who admit 
 Purgatory and others who deny it ? You are mistaken ! 
 There are some who at once admit and do not admit 
 it. This is difhcult to comprehend, but it is so, never- 
 theless, and this is how they take it : 
 
 On the one side, they will have nothing but hell, pure 
 and simple ; this is the Catholic side ; but on the other is 
 the philosophic side, the eternity of horrible pains is 
 something too hard ; and then, why not a hell that will 
 end a little sooner, or a little later? For, in fine, there 
 are small criminals and cfreat criminals. So that their 
 temporary hell — that is to say, having an end — being, 
 after all, nothing more than one Purgatory, it follows 
 that, having broken with us because they did not want 
 I'urgatory, they broke off again because they wanted 
 Purgatory only. — Dictionnairc d" Anecdotes, 998-9. 
 
 Mr. Thorndike, a Protestant theologian, says : " The 
 
 ' \ 
 
- 2S?''W3«i«,a.iiT|fe!.-<,i:. 
 
 350 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 practice of the Church of interceding for the dead at the 
 celebration of the Eucharist, is so general and so ancient, 
 that it cannot be thought to have come in upon impos- 
 ture, but that the same aspersion will seem to take hold 
 of the common Christianity." 
 
 The Protestant translators of Du Pin observe, that St. 
 Chrysostom, in his thirty-eighth homily on the Philip- 
 pians, says, that to pray for the faithful departed in the 
 tremendous mysteries, was decreed by the Apostles. 
 
 The learned Protestant divine. Dr. Jeremy Taylor, 
 writes thus : " We find by the history of the Machabees, 
 that the Jews did pray and make offerings for the dead, 
 which appears by other testimonies, and by their form of 
 prayer still extant, which they used in the captivity. 
 Now, it is very considerable, that since our I31essed 
 Saviour did reprove all the evil doctrines and traditions 
 of the Scribes and Pharisees, and did argue concerning 
 the dead and the resurrection, yet He spake no word 
 against this public practice, but left it as He found it ; 
 which He who came to declare to us all the will of His 
 Father would not have done, if it had not been innocent, 
 pious, and full of charity. The practice of it was at first, 
 and was universal : it being plain both in Tertullian and 
 St. Cyprian, and others." 
 
 " Clement," says Bishop Kaye, " distinguishes between 
 sins committed before and after baptism: the former are 
 remitted at baptism, the latter are purged by discipline. 
 . . . . The necessity of this purifying discipline is 
 such, that if it does not take place in this life, it must 
 after death, and is then to be effected by fire, not by a 
 destructive, but a discriminating fire, pervading the soul 
 which passes through it." — C/cm., ch. xii. 
 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 351 
 
 3acl at the 
 
 ancient, 
 on impos- 
 take hold 
 
 e, that St- 
 
 he Philip- 
 
 ed in the 
 
 )stles. 
 
 y Taylor, 
 
 lachabees, 
 
 the dead, 
 III' form of 
 
 captivity, 
 r I3lessed 
 
 traditions 
 ;oncerning 
 ) no word 
 
 found it ; 
 •ill of His 
 
 1 innocent, 
 as at first, 
 ;ullian and 
 
 s between 
 brmer are 
 discipline, 
 scipline is 
 c, it must 
 not by a 
 the soul 
 
 .1 
 
 ) 
 
 SOME THOUGHTS FOR NOVEMBER. 
 
 I stood upon an unknown shore, 
 
 A deep, dark ocean, rolled beside; 
 Dear, loving ones were wafted o'er 
 
 That silent and mysterious tide. 
 
 'iv most persons, the idea of Purgatory is simply one 
 of pain ; they try to avoid thinking about it, because the 
 subject is unpleasant, and people's thoughts do not natu- 
 rally revert to painful subjects ; they feel that it is a place 
 to which they must go at least, if they escape worse; 
 they must suffer, they cannot help it, and so the less they 
 think about it beforehand, the better. Purgatory and 
 suffering are to them synonymous terms ; perhaps fear 
 keeps them from some sins which, without this salutary 
 apprehension, they would readily fall into ; but, on the 
 whole, they take their chance, and hope f:/r the best. 
 This, perhaps, is the view of a large class of people, and 
 of those who will scarcely own to themselves what tiiey 
 tliink on the subject ; but their lives are the tell-tales, and 
 we cannot but fear that to escape hell is the utmost 
 effort of many who apparently are good Catholics. Still, 
 we would not say that they do not love God, that they 
 are not in many ways pleasing to Him; but, oh! how 
 many there are who only want a little more generosity to 
 become Saints! Then, there is another class, further on 
 in their heavenward journey — souls who do love God, 
 who do seek only to please II im, who are generous, often 
 even noble-hearted, in their Master's service ; souls who 
 can say, " Our Father," and look up with child-like love 
 to Heaven ; but even with such, and perhaps with almost 
 all, the feeling about Purgatory is much the same ; it is a 
 sort of necessary evil ; a something that must be endured. 
 They feel strongly all that justice demands; their very 
 sanctity and goodness lead them to desire that that which 
 is evil in them should be taken out, even by fire ; but still 
 there are few that do really see the deep, deep love oi 
 
 'I 
 
 111 
 
3S2 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Purgatory. Wc arc very far from wishing- to hinder peo- 
 ple from thinking less of its sufferings — nay, rather their 
 very intenseness and severity only pleads our case more 
 strongly. All that has been revealed to the Saints, all 
 that has been made known to us by the Church or tradi- 
 tion, proclaims the same fact. wSuffering, intense, un- 
 earthly anguish, is the portion of those most blessed 
 souls ; and it has been said that the pains of Purgatory 
 only differ in duration from those of hell. Still, there is 
 this difference — oh ! blessed be God, there is this differ- 
 ence, and it is all wc could ask: in hell, the damned 
 blaspheme their Master with the demons that torment 
 them ; in Purgatory, th" holy souls love their God with 
 the angelic choirs who await their entrance to the land of 
 bliss. If the souls of the damned could love, hell would 
 cease to be hell ; if the souls of the blessed ones in prison 
 could cease to love, Purgator;- would be worse to them 
 than a thousand such hells. 
 
 -A- -;;• %<r -A- •!{■ '•'' 'A- 
 
 Yes ; Purgator}^ is love, and if it be true that the love 
 of God extends even to hell, because its torments might 
 be worse, did not His infinite mercy temper His infinite 
 justice, how much more truly may this be said of Purga- 
 tory ! Wc have no wish to enter into any detailed ac- 
 count of what the pains of Purgatory are supposed to be ; 
 this is a subject for the pen of the theologian, or the rap- 
 tures of the Saint. Awful and terrible we know they are. 
 But there is one suffering which wc wish to speak of, be- 
 cause we cannot but hope, if people reflected upon it 
 seriously, that they would learn to think of Purgatory 
 less as a necessary evil, and more as a most tender mercy, 
 and be more inclined to enter into a hearty co-operation 
 with those who are anxious to help the poor souls in this 
 awful prison. 
 
 Surely, the one object of our whole lives is, not fo 
 much to get to Heaven because wc shall be happy there, 
 as to see Jesus forever and forever, to be near Him, to 
 gaze on Him, and to love Him without fear; for then 
 
THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS. 
 
 353 
 
 ndcr pco- 
 thcr tlicir 
 case more 
 Saints, all 
 
 or tradi- 
 ;ense, iin- 
 5t blessed 
 ■'urgatory 
 1, there is 
 his differ- 
 2 damned 
 t torment 
 God with 
 he land of 
 lell would 
 
 in prison 
 c to them 
 
 : the love 
 nts mi^rht 
 is infinite 
 3f Purg-a- 
 tailed ac- 
 ed to be ; 
 r the rap- 
 
 they are. 
 ak of, be- 
 upon it 
 urgatory 
 iv mercy, 
 operation 
 
 Is in this 
 
 ^, not FO 
 
 ly there, 
 
 Him, to 
 
 for then 
 
 * 
 
 love will be fearless, because suffering and sin will have 
 ceased. 
 
 And what will happen when we die? Oh ! if we were 
 sent to Purgatory without seeing Jesus, we might bear it 
 better. There have been souls on earth privileged to 
 suffer for months the pains of the holy souls, and they 
 have lived and borne the pain, and longed, if it were pos- 
 sible, even for more; but they had not seen Jesus as wc 
 shall see Him at the moment of our death. The very 
 thought makes us shudder and our life-blood run cold. 
 What if we should indeed be saved, we who have so 
 trembled and feared, and known not whether we were 
 worthy of love or hatred? What if we should behold 
 the face of Divincst Majesty gaze upon us even for one 
 moment in tenderness? And yet, unless we sec it in un- 
 utterable wrath, this will be. But what then? Shall we 
 see it forever? Shall our eyes gaze on and on, and feast 
 themselves on that sight for all eternity? . . . Ah! 
 not yet; we must lose sight of that vision of delight ; it 
 must bo withdrawn from us— not, thank God, in anger, 
 but in sorrow. Oh ! what arc the pains of Purgatory, 
 what the burning of its fire, in comparison with the suf- 
 fering which the soul endures when separated, even for 
 a moment, from her God? Who can tell, who can under- 
 stand, who can even faintly guess, what will be the an- 
 guish of longing which shall consume our very being? 
 But why must this be? Why docs love, infmitc, tender 
 love, inflict such intense pain? Why docs the parent 
 turn away from his child, and forbid him his presence for 
 a time ? Is it that he loves him less than when he lav- 
 ished on him the tendcrest caresses? . . . Whv, but 
 because suffering is needed as an atonement to justice, 
 because love cannot be perfected without fear. "It is 
 here tried and purified, but hath in Heaven its perfect 
 rest." Oh ! the love of Purgatory ! we shall never know 
 it, or understand it, until we are there. Yes, we cannot 
 but think that the greatest, the keenest suffering of the 
 soul will be the remembrance of that which it has seen 
 
 II! 
 
354 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 for a passinj^ moment, and the pining to behold again 
 and forever the lace of God. It has been revealed to 
 vSaints that so intense is this desire, that the soul would 
 gladly place itself even in the most fearful tortures, could 
 it thus become more quickly purged from that whicii 
 withholds it from the presence of God. Did we but well 
 consider, and enter into this feeling, we should be much 
 more careful about our imperfections and our venial sins. 
 
 * -A * •;<• -A- ¥t x- 
 
 The Saints have ever desired suffering, and consider it 
 as the greatest favor which could be bestowed upon 
 them ; not that it is in itself desirable, but because it per- 
 fects love. Let us, then, we who are not Saints, think of 
 Purgatory with more affection ; let us rejoice* that, if we 
 are not privileged to have keen, unearthly anguish in this 
 life, we shall yet suffer, and suffer intensely, in the next. 
 Our love will be purified ; our dross be purged away ; the 
 weary pain which we feel continually when we think how 
 vile we are in the sight of God, how the eye of Jesus, 
 with all its tenderness, must often turn from us in sorrow 
 — the weary pain, the deep degradation of misery and 
 sin, will one day cease ; we shall not tremble under our 
 Father's eye, or long to hide ourselves from our Father's 
 countenance. Now we must often feel, when trying with 
 our whole hearts to please God, how impure, how sullied 
 we are before Him. Our pride, our vanity, our impa- 
 tience, our self-love, are all there. God sees them ; how 
 can He, then, look on us as we desire He should ? And 
 often we almost long to be in those purging flames, even 
 should it be for years and years, that this vileness might 
 be burned away. 
 
hold again 
 evcaled to 
 soul would 
 ures, could 
 ;hat which 
 /e but well 
 1 be much 
 i^cnial sins. 
 
 .y. 
 
 consider it 
 wed upon 
 use it per- 
 is, think of 
 that, if we 
 lish in this 
 1 the next, 
 iway ; the 
 think how 
 of Jesus, 
 in sorrow 
 lisery and 
 inder our 
 r Father's 
 •ying with 
 Dw sullied 
 nir impa- 
 lem ; how 
 Id? And 
 mes, even 
 ess might 
 
 i ^ 
 
 . 
 
 PART V. 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL, 
 
 Well beseems 
 That we should help them wash away the stains 
 They carried hence; that so, made pure and light, 
 They may sjiring upward to tlie starry spheres. 
 Ah! so may mercy tempered justice rid 
 Your burdens speedily; that ye have power 
 To stretch your wing, which e'en to your desire 
 Shall lift you. 
 
 — Dante, 
 
 
^ 
 
" 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 DIES IRJE. 
 
 The day of wrath, that dreadful day 
 Shall the whole world in ashes lay, 
 As David and Sybils say. 
 
 What horror will invade the mind, 
 
 When the strict Jud^rc, who would be kind, 
 
 Shall have few venial faults to find! 
 
 The last loud trumpet's wondrous sound 
 Must thro' the rending tombs rebound, 
 And wake the nations underground. 
 
 Nature and death shall with surprise 
 
 Behold the pale ofiendcr rise. 
 
 And view the Judge with conscious eyes. 
 
 Then shall with universal dread, 
 The sacred mystic book be read, 
 To try the living and the dead. 
 
 The Judge ascends His awful throne. 
 He makes each secret sin be known. 
 And all with shame confess their own. 
 
 O then ! what int'rest shall I make, 
 
 To save my last important stake. 
 
 When the most just have cause to quake ! 
 
 Thou mighty formidable King ! 
 Thou mercy's unexhausted spring ! 
 Some comfortable pity bring. 
 
358 PURGATORY. 
 
 Forget not what my ransom cost, 
 Nor let my dcar-bou^lit soul be lost, 
 In storms of guilty terror tost. 
 
 Thou, who for mc didst feel such pain, 
 Whose precious blood the cross did stain, 
 Let not those agonies be vain. 
 
 Thou whom avcnj^ing powers obey. 
 Cancel my debt (too great to pay) 
 Before the said accounting day. 
 
 Surrounded with amazing fears. 
 Whose load my soul with anr'iisn hears, 
 I sigh, I weep, accept my tears. 
 
 Thou, who wast mov'd with INIary's grief, 
 
 And by absolving of the tliicf, 
 
 Hast givxMi me hope, now give relief. 
 
 Reject not my unworthy prayer. 
 Preserve mc from the dangerous snare, 
 Which death and gaping hell prepare. 
 
 Give my exalted soul a place 
 Among the chosen right hand race. 
 The sons of God, and heirs of grace. 
 
 From that insatiate abyss, 
 
 Where flames devour and serpents hiss, 
 
 Promote mc to Thy scat of bliss. 
 
 Prostrate, my contrite heart I rend. 
 My God, my Father, and my Friend : 
 Do not forsake me in my end. 
 
 Well may they curse their second birth, 
 
 Who rise to a surviving death. 
 
 Thou great Creator of mankind, 
 
 Let guilty man compassion fmd. — Amen. 
 
LEGENDARY AND rOETICAL. 
 
 359 
 
 
 AUTHORSHIP OF THE DIES IHM. 
 
 O'BRIF.N." 
 
 The authorship of the " Dies Ircc" seems the most dif- 
 ficult to settle. This much, however, is certain : that lie 
 ^vh() lias the strongest claims to it is Latino Orsini, gen- 
 erally styled Frangipajii, whom his maternal uncle, Pope 
 Nicholas III. (Gastano Orsini), raised to the cardinalate in 
 1278. He was more generally known by the name of 
 Cardinal Malabranca, and was, at first, a mcuiber of the 
 Order of St. Dominic. (See Dublin Review, Vol. XX., 
 1846; Gavantus, Thesaur. Sacr. Rit., p. 490.) 
 
 As this sacred hymn is conceded to be one of the 
 grandest that has ever been written, it is but natural to 
 expect that the number of authors claiming it would be 
 very large. Some even have attributed it to Pope 
 Gregory the Great, who lived as far back as the year 
 604. St. Bernard, too, is mentioned in connection with 
 it, and so are several others ; but as it is hardly necessary 
 to mention all, we shall only say that, after Cardinal Orsini, 
 the claims to it on the part of Thomas de Celano, of the 
 Order of Franciscans Minor, are the greatest. There is 
 very little reason for attributing it to Father Humbert, 
 the fifth general of the Dominicans in 1273; and hardly 
 any at all for accrediting it to Augustinus dc Biella, of 
 the Order of Augustinian Eremites. A very widely cir- 
 culated opinion is that the " Dies Ira:," as it now stands, 
 is but an improved form of a Sequence which was long in 
 use before the age of any of those authors whom we have 
 cited. Gavantus gives us, at page 490 of his "• Thesaurus 
 of Sacred Rites," a few stanzas of this ancient sequence.'- 
 
 ' Rev. John O'Brien, A.M., Prof, of Sacred Liturgy in Mount St. Mary's 
 College, Emmettsburg, Md. 
 
 * We subjoin this Latin stanza : 
 
 Cum recorder moriturus, 
 
 Quid post mortem sim futurus, 
 
 Terror tcrret nic venturus, 
 
 Ouem expccto non securus : 
 
 "in! 
 
(k 
 
 3C0 
 
 rUKUATUKY. 
 
 * 
 
 4f 
 
 * 
 
 ■3f 
 
 Tn repeat wliat learned critics of every denoini nation 
 under heaven have said in praise of lliis marvellous hvmn, 
 would indeed be a (lillieult task. One of its j^reatest en- 
 eoiniums is, that there is hardly a lan<:^uajj;e in Iuir()|)e 
 into which it lias not been translated ; it has even found 
 its way into (ireek and 1 lebrew - into the former, throu.iL^h 
 an Knf^lish missionary of Syria, named Ilildner; and into 
 the latter, by S|)lieth, a celebrated Orientalist. Mozart 
 avowed his extreme admiration of it, and so did Dr. 
 Johnson, wSir Walter Scott, and Jeremy Taylor, besides 
 hosts of others. The encomium i)assed upon it by wSchalf 
 is thus ij;'iven in his own words: " This marvellous hymn 
 is the acknovvledi^ed master-piece of Latin ])()etry and the 
 most sublime of all uninspired hymns. Tiic secret of its 
 irresistible power lies in the awful i^randeur of the theme, 
 the intense earnestness and i)athos of the i)oet, the simple 
 majestv and solemn music of its lan^-uajj^e, the stately 
 metre, the triple rhyme, and the vocal assonances, chosen 
 in strikin^i^ adaptation — all combininjj^ to produce an over- 
 wdielminjj^ effect, as if we heard the linal crash of the uni- 
 verse, the commotion of the openinj^ oraves, the trumpet 
 of the archang'cl summonin<2^ the quick and the dead, and 
 saw the Kini^ 'of tremendous majesty' seated on the 
 throne of justice and mercy, and ready to dispense ever- 
 lasting life, or everlasting woe." (Sec " Latin Hymns," 
 Vol. L p. 392, by Prof. ALarch, of Lafayette College, Pa.) 
 
 The music of this hymn formed a chief part in the fame 
 of Mozart; and it is said, and not without reason, that it 
 contributed in no small degree to hasten his death, for so 
 excited did he become over its awe-enkindling senti- 
 ments while writing his celebrated " ]\Lass of Requiem," 
 that a sort of minor paralysis seized his whole frame, so 
 
 Tcrret dies me tcrroris. 
 Dies irrc, ac furoris, 
 Dies luctus, ac mccroris, 
 Dies ultrix peccatoiis, 
 Dies ira", dies ilia, etc, etc. 
 
li:(;eni)auv and inumk ai.. 
 
 361 
 
 nomination 
 
 Ions hymn, 
 
 greatest cn- 
 
 in luiropc 
 
 L'vcn found 
 
 cr, tliron,i;li 
 
 r ; and into 
 
 ;t. Mozart 
 
 so did Dr. 
 
 lor, besides 
 
 t by Schalf 
 
 llous iiymn 
 
 try and the 
 
 ecrct of its 
 
 the tliemc, 
 
 the simple 
 
 tlie stately 
 
 ,ces, cliosen 
 
 c an over- 
 
 )f the II ni- 
 
 e trumpet 
 
 dead, and 
 
 cd on the 
 
 ense ever- 
 
 Hymns," 
 
 llcffc, Pa.) 
 
 1 the fame 
 
 )n, that it 
 
 atli, for so 
 
 [n<^ senti- 
 
 >equiem," 
 
 frame, so 
 
 ^P 
 
 tliat he was heard to say: " 1 am certain that I am writinu^ 
 this Keciuicm for myseU. It will bj my funeral service." 
 lie never livetl to linish it; the credit of havini!^ done so 
 beloni^s to Sussmaycr, a man of jj^reat musical attain- 
 ments, and a most intimate friend of the Mozart family. — 
 Dublin Ju'-i'ifw, \'ol. I., May, 1S36. 
 
 The allusion to the sibyl in the third line of the first 
 stanza, "Teste David cum Sybilla," ' has <j^iyen rise to a 
 <j;"ood deal of anxious incpiiry ; and so very stran<j^e did it 
 sountl to French ears at its introduction into the sacred 
 hymnoloji^y of the Church, that the I'arisian rituals sub- 
 stituted in its place the line, Critcis cxpandcns vcxilla. 
 The difficulty is, however, easily overcome if wc bear in 
 mind that many of the early Fathers held that Almi<;hty 
 (iod made use of these sibyls to promuli^ate I Fis truths in 
 just the same way as lie did of Balaam of okl, and many 
 others like him. The great St. Aui^ustine has written 
 much on this subject in his " City of God ; " and the 
 reader may form some idea of the estimation in which 
 these sibyls were held, when he is told that the world- 
 renowned Michael y\ni^elo made them the subject (jf one 
 of his greatest paintings. ... In the opinions of tiie 
 ablest critics it was the Erythrean sibyl who uttered the 
 celebrated prediction about the advent of our Divines 
 Lord and I lis final coming at the last day to judge the 
 living and the dead. . . . The part of the sibyl's re- 
 sponse which referred particularly to the Day of Judg- 
 ment was written (as an acrostic) on the letters of Sotcr, 
 or Saviour. It is given as follows in the translation of 
 the " City of God " of St. Augustine : 
 
 " Sounding, the arcliangel's trumpet shall peal down from heaven, 
 Over the wicked who groan in their guilt and their manifold sorrows, 
 Trembling, the earth shall be opened, revealing chaos and hell. 
 Every king before God shall stand on that day to be judged ; 
 Rivers of fire and of brimstone shall fall from the heavens." 
 
 * As David and Sibyls say. 
 
^«i£SSi'. 
 
 362 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 
 DANTE'S "PURGATORIO." 
 
 The brio'ht sun was risen 
 More than two lioiirs alott ; and to the sea 
 JNly looks were turned. '^ Fear not," my master cried. 
 *' y\ssured we are at liappy point. Thv strength 
 Shrink not, but rise dilated. Thou art come 
 To J'urgatory now. Lo ! there the chff 
 That circhng bounds it. Lo ! the entrance there, 
 Where it doth seem disparted." . . . 
 
 Reader ! thou markest how my theme doth rise ; 
 Nor wonder, therefore, if more artfully 
 I prop the structure. Nearer now we drew, 
 Arrived whence, in that part where first a breach 
 As of a n^all appeared, I could descry 
 A portal, and three steps beneath, that led 
 For inlet there, of different color each ; 
 And one who watched, but spake not yet a word, 
 As more and more mine eye did stretch its view, 
 1 marked him seated on the highest step, 
 In visage such as past mv power to bear. 
 Grasped in his hand, a naked sword glanced back 
 The rays so towards me, that I oft in vain 
 My sight directed. " Speak from whence ye stand," 
 1 le cried ; " What would ye ? Where is your escort ? 
 Take liecd your coming upward harm ye not." 
 
 " A heavenly dame, not skilless of these things," 
 Replied the instructor, " told us, even now, 
 * Pass that way, here the gate is.' " '' And may she. 
 Befriending, prosper your ascent," resumed 
 The courteous keeper of the gate. " Come, then, 
 Before our steps." We straightway thither came. 
 
 The lowest stair was marble wdiitc, so smooth 
 And polished, that therein my mirrored form 
 Distinct 1 saw. The next of hue more dark 
 Than sablest grain, a rough and singed block 
 
4^ 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 ><33 
 
 aster cried. 
 
 trength 
 
 ►me 
 
 CO there, 
 
 doth rise ; 
 
 -ew, 
 
 a breach 
 
 t a word, 
 its view, 
 
 • 
 
 >ccd back 
 in 
 
 :c ye stand," 
 our escort ? 
 
 c not. 
 
 e thino-s," 
 
 pw, 
 
 id may she, 
 ncd 
 
 me, then, 
 ther came. 
 
 smooth 
 
 form 
 
 lark 
 
 jlock 
 
 i 
 
 ., 
 
 Cracked lengthwise and across. The third, that lay 
 
 Massy above, seemed porphyry, that flamed 
 
 Red as the life-blood si)()uting from a vein. 
 
 On this God's Angel either foot susti'ined, 
 
 Upon the threshold seated, whicli ap})eared 
 
 A rock of diamond. Up the trinal steps 
 
 My leader cheerily drew me. " Ask," said he, 
 
 " With humble heart, that he unbar the bolt." 
 
 Piously at his holy feet devolved 
 
 T cast me, praying him, for pity's sake, 
 
 That he would open to me; but first fell 
 
 Thrice on my bosom prostrate. Seven times 
 
 The letter that denotes the inward stain. 
 
 He, on my forehead, witli the blunted point 
 
 Of his drawn sword, inscribed. And " Look," he cried, 
 
 " When entered, that thou wash these scars away." 
 
 Ashes, or earth ta'en dry out of the ground, 
 
 Were of one color with the robe he wore. 
 
 From underneath that vestment forth he drew 
 
 Two keys, of metal twain; the one v/as gold, 
 
 Its fellow, silver. With the })allid first, 
 
 And next the burnished, he so j^lycd the gate. 
 
 As to content me well. " Whenever one 
 
 Faileth of these that in the key-hole straiglit 
 
 It turn not, to this alley then expect 
 
 Access in vain." Such were the words he spake. 
 
 " One is more precious : but the other needs 
 
 Skill and sagacity, large share of each, 
 
 Ere its good task to disengage the knot 
 
 Be worthily performed. From Peter these 
 
 1 hold, of him instructed that I err 
 
 Rather in opening, than in keeping fast ; 
 
 So but the suppliant at my feet implore." 
 
 Then of that hallowed gate he thrust the door, 
 Exclaiming, " Enter, but this warning hear: 
 Me forth again departs who looks behind." 
 
 As in the hinges of that sacred ward 
 The swivels turned, sonorous metal strong, 
 

 364 PURGATORY. 
 
 Harsh was the <:^rating ; nor so surhly 
 
 Rocked the Tarpcian when by force bereft 
 
 Of i^ood Metelliis, thenceforth from his loss 
 
 To leanness doomed. Attentively I turned, 
 
 Listening the thunder that first issued forth ; 
 
 And '• We praise Thee, O God," methought I heard, 
 
 In accents blended with sweet melody. 
 
 The strains came o'er mine ear, e'en as the sound 
 
 Of choral voices, that in solemn chant 
 
 With organ mingle, and, now high and clear 
 
 Come swelling, now float indistinct away. — Caiiio IX. 
 
 Hell's dunncst gloom, or night unlustrous, dark, 
 Of every planet reft, and palled in clouds. 
 Did never spread before the sight a veil 
 In thickness like that fog, nor to the sense 
 So palpable and gross. Entering its shade, 
 jNIinc eye endured not with unclosed lids; 
 Which marking, near me drew the faithful guide, 
 Offering me his shoulder for a stay-. 
 
 As the blind man behind his leader walks, 
 Lest he should err, or stumble unawares 
 On what might harm him, or perhaps destroy ; 
 I journeyed through that bitter air and foul. 
 Still listening to my escort's warning voice, 
 " Look tliat from me thou part not." Straight I heard 
 Voices, and each one seemed to pray for peace, 
 And for compassion to the Lamb of God 
 That taketh sins awa}-. The prelude still 
 Was " Agnus Dei ; " and, through all the choir, 
 One voice, one measure ran, that perfect seemed 
 The concord of their song. " Are these I hear 
 Spirits, O INIaster?" I exclaimed; and he, 
 *' Thou aim'st aright : these loose the bonds of wrath." 
 
 — Canto X] 7. 
 
 -X- -» * -k 'k * r? 
 
 Forthwith from every side a shout a;osc 
 So vehement, that suddenly my guide 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAE. 
 
 565 
 
 t 
 
 SS 
 
 d, 
 
 ht I heard, 
 
 e sound 
 
 car 
 
 — Canto IX. 
 
 )us, dark, 
 
 c 
 :1c, 
 
 il guide. 
 
 [ks, 
 
 stroy ; 
 
 )ul, 
 
 cc, 
 
 ight I heard 
 
 peace, 
 
 choir, 
 seemed 
 I hear 
 
 » 
 
 - } 
 
 s of wrath." 
 
 iDllO X] I. 
 
 Drew near, and cried : "Doubt not, while I conduct thee." 
 
 '' Glory ! " all shouted (such the sounds mine ear 
 
 Gathered from those who near mc swelled the sounds), 
 
 '' Glory in the liighest be to God ! " Wc stood 
 
 Immovably suspended, like to those, 
 
 The shepherds, who hrst heard in ]]ethlehem's field 
 
 That song: till ceased the trembling, and the song 
 
 Was ended : then our hallow^cd path resumed. 
 
 Eyeing the prostrate shadows, who renewed 
 
 Their customed mourning. Never in my breast 
 
 Did ignorance so struggle with desire 
 
 Of knowledge, if my memory do not err. 
 
 As in that moment; nor, through haste, dared I 
 
 To question, nor myself could aught discern. 
 
 So on I fared, in thoughtfulness and dreaci. -Canto XX. 
 
 % ^!: 'k ^: •;•. • : 'k 
 
 Now the last flexure of our way wc n:.xhed ; 
 And, to the right hand turning, other care 
 Awaits us. Here the rocky precipice 
 Hurls forth redundant flames ; and from the rim 
 A blast up-blown, with forcible rebuff 
 Driveth them back, sequestered from its bound. 
 
 Behooved us, one by one, along the side, 
 That bordered on the void, to pass; and I 
 Feared on one hand the fire, on the other feared 
 Headlong to fall : when thus the instructor warned : 
 " Strict rein must in this placv. direct the eyes. 
 A little swerv'-ig and the way is lost." 
 
 Then from the bosom of the burning mass, 
 '* O God of mercy ! " heard I sung, and felt 
 No less desire to turn. And v/hcn I saw 
 Spirits along the flame proceeding, I 
 Between their footsteps and mine own was fain 
 To share by turns my vicv/. At the h)-mn's close 
 They shouted loud, " I do not know a man ; " ' 
 Then in low voice again took up the strain. — Ca)ito XXV. 
 
 Ht H( 'k =k »k -k 'k 
 
 ' I do not kiWiO a man. St. Luke, i. 34. 
 
iLJ".!'i'.ii"'"M 'in— HiK&'L 
 
 m n 
 
 it 
 
 \66 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 Now was the sun^ so stationed, as when first 
 His early radiance ([uivers on the heigiits 
 Wlicrc streamed his jNIakcr's blood ; while Libra 
 
 hangs 
 Above Hesperian Ebro ; and new fires, 
 Meridian, Mash on Ganges' yellow tide. 
 
 So day was sinking, when the Angel of God 
 Appeared before us. Joy was in his mien. 
 Forth of the flame he stood — upon tlie brink ; 
 And with a voice, whose lively clearness far 
 Surpassed our human, " Blessed are the pure 
 In heart," he sang ; then, near him as we came, 
 " Go ye not further, holy spirits," he cried, 
 '* Ere the fire pierce you ; enter in, and list 
 Attentive to the song ye hear from thence." 
 
 I, when I heard his saying, was as one 
 Laid in the grave. My hands together clasped, 
 And upward stretching, on the fire I looked. 
 And busy fancy conjured up the forms, 
 Ercwhilc beheld alive, consumed in llames. 
 
 —Or/ito xxvir. 
 
 ' At Jerusalem it was dawn, in Spain midnight, and in India noonday, 
 while it was sunset in I'uryalorv. 
 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 1^7 
 
 first 
 
 lilc Libra 
 
 jod 
 
 k; 
 
 ir 
 I re 
 imc, 
 
 ♦ 
 
 sped, 
 XXVIL 
 
 ia noonday, 
 
 t 
 
 HAMLET AND THE GHOST. 
 
 SIIAKr.Sl'KAKK, 
 
 Hamlet. Where wilt thou lead mc ? Speak, I'll go no 
 further. 
 
 Ghost. Mark me. 
 
 Ham. I will. 
 
 Ghost. AFy hour is almost come. 
 
 When I to sidphurous and tormenting llames 
 
 Must render up myself. 
 
 Ham. Alas ! poor ghost ! 
 
 Ghost, l^ity me not, but lend thy serious hearing 
 To what I shall unl ^ 
 
 Ham. Speak, I am bound to liear. 
 
 Ghost. So art thou to revenge, when thou shalt hear. 
 
 Ham. What? 
 
 Ghost, I am thy father's spirit; 
 Doomed for a certain time to walk the nip'ht ; 
 And, for the day, confined to fast in fires, 
 Till the foul crimes, done in my days of nature, 
 Are burnt and purged away. But that I am forbid 
 To tell the secrets of my prison-house, 
 I could a tale unfold, wliose lightest word 
 Would harrow up thy soul ; freeze thy young blood ; 
 Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spiicres ; 
 Thy knotted and combined locks to part. 
 And each particular hair to stand on end, 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcupine ; 
 But this eternal blason must not be 
 To cars of flesh and blood. 
 
 i 
 
>-ieiafe««i*diffiff A^^ ,4*,, 
 
 368 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ! 
 
 '>l, I 
 
 CALDERON'S "PURGATORY OF ST. PATRICK." 
 
 Ix a work of this nature, it is essential to its purpose 
 that the compiler should take cognizance of the many 
 legends, wild and extravagant as some of them are, which 
 have been current at various times and amongst various 
 peoples, on the subject of Purgatory. For they have, 
 indeed, a deep signihcance, proving how strong a hold 
 this belief in a middle state of souls has taken on the pop- 
 ular mind. They are, in a certain sense, a part of Cath- 
 olic tradition, and have to do with what is called Cath- 
 olic instinct. They prove that this dogma of the Church 
 has found a home in the hearts of the people, and become 
 familiar to them, as the tales of childhood whispered 
 around the winter hearth. If it appear now and then, in 
 r^ome such uncouth disguise, as that which we are about 
 to present to our readers^ we see, nevertheless, through 
 it ail the truth, or rather the fragments of truth, such as 
 is often found floating about through Europe on tlie 
 breath of tradition. The curious legend has been turned 
 by Calderon from dross into precious gold. He presents 
 it to us in iiis "■ Purgatory of St. Patrick" with a beauty 
 that divests it of much of its native wildness. He pre- 
 sumably drew his materials for the drama from a work, 
 *' The Life and Purgatory of St. Patrick," published in 
 Spain in 1627 by Montalvan, a Spanish dramatist. It 
 was translated into French by a Franciscan priest i^nd 
 doctor of theology, Franc^ois Bouillon ; .as also into Por- 
 tuguese by Father INIanuel Caldeira. When this work 
 was issued Calderon was with the army in Flanders. He 
 must have seen it, his brilliant imagination at once 
 taking hold of it as the ground work for a splendid effort 
 of his genius. 
 
 We cite here an extract from an introduction by Denis 
 Florence MacCarthy to his translation of Calderon's 
 " Purgatory of St. Patrick " It will be of interest as fol- 
 lowing the thread of this weird legend : 
 
LEGEXDARV AND TOETICAI, 
 
 ^'9 
 
 [CK." 
 
 s purpose 
 the many 
 ire, which 
 st various 
 ley have, 
 ig a hold 
 1 the pop- 
 : of Cath- 
 iled Cath- 
 ie Church 
 d become 
 vhispered 
 d then, in 
 are about 
 ;, through 
 h, such as 
 c on the 
 en turned 
 presents 
 a beauty 
 He prc- 
 n a work, 
 )lished in 
 latist. It 
 riest pnd 
 into Por- 
 his work 
 Jers. He 
 at once 
 lid effort 
 
 )y Denis 
 aldcron's 
 :st as fol- 
 
 " The curious history of Ludovico Enio, on which tiie 
 principal interest of this play depends, has been alluded 
 to, and given more or less fully by many ancient 
 authors. The name, though slightly altered bv the dif- 
 ferent persons who have mentioned him, can easily be 
 recognized as the same in all, whether as Owen, Oien, 
 Owain, Eogan, luienius, or Ennius. I'erhaps the earliest 
 allusion to him in any printed luiglish work is that con- 
 tained in ' Ranulph ITidgen's Polychronicon,' pub- 
 lished at Westminster by Wynkin de Worde, in 1493 : 
 * In this Steven's tyme, a knyght that hvght Owen wcnte 
 into the Purgatory of the second Patrick, abbot, and not 
 byshoj^pe. lie came agayne and dwelled in the abbaye 
 of Ludene of Whytc Monks in Irlonde, and toldc of joyes 
 and of paynes that he had seen.' 
 
 The history of Enio had, however, existed in manu- 
 script for nearly three centuries and a half before the 
 Polychronicon was printed; it had been written by 
 Henry, the Monk of Saltcrey, in Huntingdonshire, from 
 the account which he had received from Gilbert, a Cis- 
 tercian monk of the Abbey of the Blessed Virgin Mary 
 of Luden, or Louth, above mentioned.' Colgan, after 
 collating this manuscript with two others on the same 
 subject, which he had seen, printed it nearly in full in his 
 '* Trias." . . . Matthew Paris had, however, before 
 this, in his " History of England," under date 1 153, given 
 a full account of the adventures of CEnus in the Purga- 
 tory. . . . Sir Walter Scott mentions, in his " Bor- 
 der jNIinstreis) ," that there is a curious Metrical Ro- 
 mance in the Advocates' Library of Edinburgh, called 
 '* The Legend of Sir Owain," relating his adventures in 
 St. Patrick's Purgatory ; he gives some stanzas fi'om it, 
 descriptive of the knight's passage of "The Brig o' 
 Dread ; " which, in the legend, is placed between Purga- 
 tory and Paradise. This poem is supposed to have been 
 written early in the fourteenth century. 
 
 ^ Colgan's "Trias Tluiumaturgrc,"' p. 2S1 ; V.'aic's "Annals of Ireland," 
 \. D. 1497. 
 
iHMnma^n,^.^. 
 
 t 
 
 m 
 
 •if 
 
 i 
 
 370 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 A second extract on llic sul)jcci:, taken from the Essay 
 by Mr. Wri,':;ht on the " Pur<^atory of St. Patrick," pub- 
 lislied in London in 1844, gives still further information 
 with regard to it. 
 
 •* The mode," he says, " in which this legend was made 
 public is thus told in the Latin narrative. Gcrvasc (tlie 
 founder and first Abbot of Louth, in Lincolnshire) sent 
 his monk, Gilbert, to the king, then in Ireland, to obtain 
 a grant to build a monastery there. Gilbert, on his 
 arrival, complained to the king, Henry II., that he did 
 not understand the language of the country. The king 
 said to him, ' I will give you an excellent interpreter,' and 
 sent him the knight Owain, who remained with him 
 during the time he was occupied in building the monas- 
 tery, and rei)eated to him frequently the story of his ad- 
 ventures in l^urgatory. Gilbert and his companions sub- 
 sequently returned to England, and there he re})eated 
 the story, and some one said he thought it v/as all a 
 dream, to which Gilbert answered : ' That there were 
 some v/ho believed that those who entered the Purga- 
 tory fell into a trance, and saw the vision in the spirit, but 
 that the knight had denied this, and declared that the 
 whole was seen and felt really in the body.' Both Gil- 
 bert, from whom Henry of Salterey received the story, 
 and the bishop of the diocese, assured him that many per- 
 ished in this Purgatory, and we/e never heard of afterwards. 
 
 " It is clear from the allusion to it in Carsarius of Fleis- 
 terbach, that already, at the beginning of the thirteenth 
 century, St. Patrick's Purgatory had become famous 
 throughout Europe. ' If any one doubt of Pui'gatory,' 
 says this writer, ' let him go to Scotland (/. c, Ireland, to 
 which this name w^as anciently given), and enter the Pur- 
 gatory of St. Patrick, and his doubts will be expelled.' 
 This recommendation wms frequently acted upon in that, 
 and particularly in the following century, when pilgrims 
 from all parts of Europe, some of them men of rank 
 and wealth, repaired thither. On the patent rolls in the 
 Tower of London, under the year 1358, we have an in- 
 
LKGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 3/1 
 
 the Essay 
 ick," piib- 
 itormatiou 
 
 was made 
 rva>c Uhc 
 diirc) sent 
 to obtain 
 ■t, on liis 
 at he did 
 The king- 
 rcter,' and 
 with him 
 he monas- 
 of his ad- 
 ni(jns siib- 
 rei)cated 
 was all a 
 lere were 
 le Pur.i^a- 
 spirit, but 
 1 that the 
 Both Gil- 
 he story, 
 "nany per- 
 tcrwards. 
 ^ of Heis- 
 hirteenth 
 c famous 
 irgatory,' 
 -eland, to 
 the Pur- 
 expelled.' 
 n in that, 
 pilgrims 
 of rank 
 )lls in the 
 ve an in- 
 
 1' 
 
 stance of testimonials given by the king, Kdward III., on 
 the same chiy, to two distinguished foreigners, one a 
 noble Hungarian, the other a Lombard, XichoUis dc Hcc- 
 cariis, of their having faithiully performed this pilgriiu- 
 age. And still later, in 1397, we fmd King J^iichaid 11. 
 granting a sale conduet to visit the same })lace to kav- 
 mond. Viscount of Perilhos, Knight of Rhodes, and 
 Chamberlain of the King of France, with twenty men 
 and thirty horses. Raymond de Perilhos, on his return 
 to his native country, wrote a narrative of what he had 
 seen, in the dialect of the Limousin (Lcniosiiia/iir^iKi), of 
 which a Latin version was printed by O'Sullivan in his 
 '■ Hist or ill Catholica Ibcrnica.' . . . This is a mere 
 compilation from the story of ' Henry of vSalterey,' and 
 begins, like that, with an account of the origin of the Pur- 
 gatory. He represents himself as having been first a 
 minister to Charles V. of France, and subsequently the 
 intimate friend of John I. of Aragon, after whose death 
 (in 1395) lie was seized with the desire of knowing liow 
 he was treated in the other world, and determined, like a 
 new ^Fneas, to go into St. Patrick's Purgatory in search 
 of him. He saw precisely the same sights as the knight, 
 Owain, but (as in Calderon) only twelve men came to 
 him in the hall instead of fifteen, and in the fourth hall of 
 punishments he saw King John of Aragon, and many 
 others of his friends and relations." 
 
 We will now select from the drama of " Calderon " a 
 few characteristic passages, to show how this subject was 
 treated by the glowing pen and fervid fancy of the great- 
 est of all the poets of Catholic Spain, whose poetr}-, in- 
 deed, is deserving of more widespread ap])reciation than 
 it has yet received at the hands of the Catholic reading 
 public. We will begin with those lines in which Ludo- 
 vico Enio, the hero of the tale, makes known his identity 
 to King Egerio. 
 
 LUDOVICO. Listen, most beautiful divinity. 
 For thus begins the story of my life. 
 
fl 
 
 372 PURGATORY. 
 
 Great Ej^cno, King of TrcLind, I 
 
 Am Ludovico luilo - a Christian also — 
 
 In this do Patrick and myscU agree, 
 
 And dilVcr, being Christians both, 
 
 And yet as opposite as good from evil. 
 
 But ior the faith which I sincerely hold 
 
 (So greatly do I estimate its worth), 
 
 I would lay down a hundred thousand lives — • 
 
 Bear witness, thou all-seeing Lord and God. 
 
 * ->v vv * -» % * 
 
 All crimes, 
 
 Theft, murder, treason, sacrilege, betrayal 
 Of dearest friends, all these I must relate. 
 For these are all my glory and my pride. 
 In one of Ireland's many islands 1 
 Was born, and much do I suspect that all 
 The planets seven, in wild confusion strange. 
 Assisted at my most unhappy birth. 
 
 Me proceeds with a catalogue of his crimes, most dark, 
 indeed, and relates how St. Patrick, who was present, 
 had saved him from shipwreck. The King, however, 
 who is a pagan, takes the Knight into his service, while 
 he bids the Saint begone. Before they part Patrick asks 
 of him a favor : 
 
 Patrick. This one boon I ask — 
 
 Ludovico. What is it? 
 
 Patrick. That, alive or dead, we meet 
 
 In this world once again. 
 Ludovico. Dost thou demand 
 
 So strange and dread a promise from me? 
 Patrick. Yes. 
 
 Ludovico. I give it to thee then. 
 Patrick. And I accept it. 
 
 What follows is from a conversation between Patrick 
 and the King, wherein are explained many of the truths 
 
 -0 
 
LECENDAUV AND rOKTU'AI,. 
 
 373 
 
 k'CS — 
 
 igc, 
 
 jost dark, 
 present, 
 however, 
 ce, while 
 rick asks 
 
 mei' 
 
 ;.; 
 
 4 
 
 Patrick 
 ic truths 
 
 of faith, incUulini^ the existence of heaven and of liell. 
 Thus tlie Saint : 
 
 Pairick. There are more places 
 
 In the other world than those of 
 Everlaslin^j^ pain and glory: 
 Learn, () Kin*;, that there's another. 
 Which is Purgatory ; whilher 
 Flies the soul that has departed 
 In a state of <:jracc ; hut bearing; 
 Still some stains of sin upon it: 
 For with these no soul can enter 
 God's pure kinj^dom — there it dwelleth 
 Till it |)urifies and burnetii 
 vMl the dross from out its nature; 
 Then it ilieth, pure and limpid, 
 Into God's divincst presence. 
 
 King. So 30U say, but I have nothing-, 
 
 Save your own words, to convince me ; 
 
 Give me of the soul's existence 
 
 Some strong proof— S(3me indication — 
 
 Somethimr tangible and certain — 
 
 Which my hands may feel and grasp at. 
 
 And since you appear so powerful 
 
 With your God, you can imphjre him, 
 
 That to finish my conversion. 
 
 He may show some real being. 
 
 Not a mere ideal essence, 
 
 Which all men can touch ; remember, 
 
 But one single hour rcmaincth 
 
 For this task : this day you give us 
 
 Certain proofs of pain or glory, 
 
 Or you die : where we are standing 
 
 Let your God display his wonders — 
 
 And since we, perhaps, may merit 
 
 Neither punishment nor glory, 
 
 Let the other place be shown us, 
 
 Which you say is Purgatory. 
 
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 374 PURGATORY. 
 
 Patrick then prays, concluding with the words : 
 
 *' I ask, O Lord, may from Thy hand be given, 
 
 That Purgatory, Hell, and Heaven 
 
 May be revealed unto those mortals' sight." 
 
 An Angel then descends and speaks as follows : 
 
 Angel. Patrick, God has heard thy prayer, 
 He has listened to thy vows ; 
 And as thou hast ask'd, allows 
 Earth's great secrets to lie bare. 
 Seek along this island ground 
 For a vast and darksome cave, 
 Whi jh restrains the lake's dark wave, 
 And supports the mountains round ; 
 He who dares to go therein, 
 Having first contritely told 
 All his faults, shall there behold 
 Where the soul is purged from sin. 
 He shall see with mortal eyes 
 Hell itself — where those who die 
 In their sins forever lie. 
 In the fire that never dies. 
 He shall see, in blest fruition. 
 Where the happy spirits dwell. 
 But of this be sure as well — 
 He who without true contrition 
 Enters there to idly try 
 What the cave may be, doth go 
 To his death — he'll suffer woe 
 While the Lord doth reign on high. 
 W^ho this day shall set you free 
 From this poor world's weariness; 
 * * -A * * 
 
 He shall grant to you, in pity. 
 Bliss undreamed by mortal men — 
 Making thee a denizen 
 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 375 
 
 ds: 
 
 be given, 
 
 sight." 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 ' » 
 
 Of his own celestial citv. 
 
 He shall to the world [proclaim 
 
 His omnipotence and glory, 
 
 By the wondrous Piirgator}-, 
 
 Which shall bear thy sainted name. 
 
 Polonia, the King's daughter, whom Ludovico had 
 married and deserted, having first tried to kill her, aj)- 
 pears upon the scene just as the King, Patrick, and some 
 others, who have set out upon their quest lor the Purga- 
 tory, have reached a gloomy mountain and a deep cave. 
 Polonia relates the wonders and the terrors of the cavern 
 through which she has passed. Patrick then speaks as 
 follows : 
 
 Patrick. This cave, Egerio, which you see, conccaleth 
 Many mysteries of life and death, 
 Not for him Avhose hardened bosom fceleth 
 Nought of true repentance or true faith. 
 But he who freely enters, who revcaleth 
 All his sins with penitential breath, 
 Shall endure his Purgatory then, 
 And return forgiven back again. 
 
 Later in the drama we find Ludovico desiring 
 
 " To enter 
 Into Patrick's Purgatory ; 
 Humbly and devoutly keeping 
 Thus the promise that I gave him." 
 
 Again, he says : 
 
 " I have faith and firm reliance 
 That you yet shall see me happy, 
 If in God's name blessed Patrick 
 Aid me in the Purgatory." 
 
 Having confessed his sins and made due preparation, 
 he enters the cave. On his return hence, the Priest, or 
 
n 
 
 37^ 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 Canon as he is called, bids hiin relate the wonders he has 
 seen. He finds himself first "in thick and pitchy dark- 
 ness," he hears horrid clang'or, and falls down at lenj^th 
 into a hall of jasper, where he meets with twelve grave 
 men, who encourap^e him, and bid him keep up his cour- 
 age amid the fearful sights he is to behold later on. At 
 length he reaches the Purgatory : 
 
 " I approached another quarter ; 
 
 There it seemed that many spirits 
 
 I had known elsewhere, were gathered 
 
 Into one vast congregation. 
 
 Where, although 'twas plain they suffered, 
 
 Still they looked with joyous faces, 
 
 Wore a peaceable appearance. 
 
 Uttered no impatient accents, 
 
 But, with moistened eyes uplifted 
 
 Towards the heavens, appeared imploring 
 
 Pity, and their sins lamenting. 
 
 This, in truth, was Purgatory, 
 
 Where the sins that arc more venial 
 
 Are purged out." 
 
 He then alludes to that Bridge or " Brig o' Dread," to 
 which allusion will be made in another portion of our 
 volume. As this passage is celebrated, it is well to give 
 it in full : 
 
 LuDOVico. To a river did they lead me, 
 Flowers of fire were on its margin, 
 Liquid sulphur was its current. 
 Many-headed hydras — serpents — 
 Monsters of the deep v.ere in it; 
 It was very broad, and o'er it 
 Lay a bridge, so slight and narrow 
 That it seem'cl a thin line only. 
 It appear'd so weak and fragile. 
 That the slightest weight would sink it. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 377 
 
 ers he has 
 :chy dark- 
 at length 
 Ive grave 
 > his cour- 
 ir on. At 
 
 ed 
 fFered, 
 
 loring 
 
 " Here thy pathway lies," they told me, 
 " O'er this bridge so weak and narrow; 
 And, for thy still greater horror. 
 Look at those who've pass'd before tliee." 
 Then 1 look'd, and saw the wretclies 
 Who the passage were attempting 
 Fall amid the sulphurous current. 
 Where the snakes witli teeth and talons 
 Tore them to a thousand pieces. 
 Notwithstanding all these horrors, 
 I, the name of God invoking. 
 Undertook the dreadful passage, 
 And, undaunted by the billows, 
 Or the winds that blew around me. 
 Reached the other side in safety. 
 Here within a wood I found me. 
 So delightful and so fertile. 
 That the past was all forgotten. 
 On my path rose stately cedars, 
 Laurels — all the trees of Eden. 
 
 Dread," to 
 ion of our 
 xU to give 
 
 After having described some of the glories of this 
 abode of b'iss, he relates his meeting with "the resplend- 
 ent, the most glorious, the great Patrick, the Apostle " — 
 and was thus enabled to keep his early promise. Tlie 
 poem ends with the following somewhat confused list of 
 authorities : 
 
 k it. 
 
 " For with this is now concluded 
 The historic legend told us 
 By Dionysius, the great Carthusian, 
 With Henricus Saltericnsis, 
 Cresarius Heisterbachensis, 
 Matthew Paris, and Ranulphus, 
 Monbrisius, Marolicus Siculus, 
 David Rothe, and the judicious 
 Primate over all Hibernia, 
 Bellarmino, Beda, Serpi, 
 
'^S±ji^«S!ia»toat«te«,i,,^ 
 
 ,,; 
 
 378 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Friar Dymas, Jacob Sotin, 
 
 IMessin<^ham, and in conclusion 
 
 The belief and pious feelini^ 
 
 Which have everywhere maintained it." 
 
 * vr ^- vV *.i Vf % 
 
 From Alban Butler's notes to " Lives of the Saints," 
 Vol. I. p. 103, wc subjoin the following : 
 
 " St. Patrick's Purg-atory is a cave on an island in the 
 Lake Dearo- (Lough Derg), in the County of Donegal, 
 near the borders of Fermanagh. Bollandus shows the 
 falsehood of many things related concerning it. Upon 
 complaint of certain superstitious and false notions of the 
 vulgar, in 1497, it was stopped up by an order of the 
 Pope. Sec Bollandus, 'Tillcmont,' p. 287, Alemand in 
 his * Monastic Hist, of Ireland,' and Thiers, ' Hist. des. 
 Superst.' L 4 cd. Nov. It was soon after opened again 
 by the inhabitants ; but only according to the original 
 institution, as Bollandus takes notice, as a penitential re- 
 tirement for those who voluntarily chose it, probably in 
 imitation of St. Patrick, or other saints, who had there 
 dedicated themselves to a penitential state. They usu- 
 ally spent several days here, living on bread and water, 
 lying on rushes, praying and making stations barefoot." 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 379 
 
 it." 
 ic Saints," 
 
 md in the 
 Donegal, 
 shows the 
 it. Upon 
 ions of the 
 :lcr of the 
 emand in 
 Hist. des. 
 ned again 
 e original 
 itential re- 
 robably in 
 had there 
 rhey iisu- 
 md water, 
 arefoot." 
 
 THE BRIG 0' DKEAD. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 In connection with the extracts which we have given 
 from the celebrated Drama of Calderon, the " Purgatory 
 of St. Patrick," and in particular of that one which re- 
 lates to the passage of Ludovico over the bridge which 
 leads from Purgatory to Paradise, it will be interesting 
 to quote the following from Sir Walter Scott's " Min- 
 strelsy of the Scottish Border : " 
 
 '' There is a sort of charm, sung by the lower ranks of 
 Roman Catholics, in some parts of the north of England, 
 while watching a dead body previous to interment. The 
 tone is doleful and monotonous, and, joined to the mys- 
 terious import of the words, has a solemn effect. The 
 word sleet, in the chorus, seems to be corrupted from selt 
 or salt ; a quantity of which, in compliance with a popu- 
 lar superstition, is frequently placed on the breast of a 
 corpse. The mythologic ideas of the dirge ai'e common 
 to various creeds. The Mahometan believes that, in ad- 
 vancing to the final judgment seat, he must traverse a 
 bar of red-hot iron, stretched across a bottomless gulf. 
 The good works of each true believer, assuming a sub- 
 stantial form, will then intcr])ose between his feet and 
 this ' Bridge of Dread ; ' but the wicked, having no such 
 protection, fall headlong into the abyss." Passages simi- 
 lar to this dirge are also to be found in " Lady Culross' 
 Dream," as quoted in the second Dissertation, prefixed 
 by Mr. Pinkerton to his select Scottish Ballads, 2 vols. 
 The dreamer journe3's towards heaven, accompanied and 
 assisted by a celestial guide : 
 
 " Through dreadful dens, which made my heart aghast. 
 He bore me up when I began to tire. 
 Sometimes we clamb o'er craggy mountains high. 
 And sometimes stay'd on ugly braes of sand. 
 
'•■'-"^•'ffirMfT- 
 
 '■•"''•■■"■•■irfWicWuw.'.r- 
 
 380 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 ! 
 
 They were so stay that wonder was to see; 
 But when I fcar'd, he held ine by the hand. 
 Throu£rli irrcat deserts we wandered on our way — 
 Forward we [)assed a narrow bridge of trie, 
 O'er waters great, which liideously did roar." 
 
 Again, she supposes herself suspended over an infernal 
 gulf: 
 
 " Ere I was ware, one gripped me at the last. 
 And held me high above a flaming fire. 
 The fire was great, the heat did pierce me sore ; 
 My faith grew weak ; my grip was very small. 
 I trembled fast ; my faith grew more and more." 
 
 A horrible picture of the same kind, dictated probably 
 by the author's unhappy state of mind, is to be found in 
 Brooke's " Fool of Quality." The Russian funeral ser- 
 vice, without any allegorical imagery, expresses the sen- 
 timent of the dirge in language alike simple and noble: 
 " Hast thou pitied the afllictcd, O man? In death shalt 
 thou be pitied. Hast thou consoled the orphan? The 
 orphan will deliver thee. Hast thou clothed the naked ? 
 The naked will procure thee protection." — RicJiardsons 
 '■'■Anecdotes of Russia T 
 
 But the most minute description of the Brig o' Dread 
 occurs in the legend of Sir Owain, No. XL. in the MS. 
 collection of romances, W. 4. i. Advocates' Library, 
 Edinburgh. Sir Owain, a Northumbrian knight, after 
 many frightful adventures in St. Patrick's Purgatory, at 
 last arrives at the bridge, which, in the legend, is placed 
 betwixt Purgatory and Paradise : 
 
 "■ The fendes han the Knight 3'nome, 
 To a stinkand water thai ben ycome, 
 He no seigh never cr non swiche ; 
 It stank fouler than ani hounde, 
 And mani mile it was to the grounde. 
 And was as swart as piche. 
 
way — 
 
 in infernal 
 
 re ; 
 1. 
 
 re. 
 
 probably 
 found in 
 neral ser- 
 ;s the sen- 
 nd noble: 
 cath shalt 
 an ? The 
 le naked ? 
 'chard son's 
 
 o' Dread 
 
 the MS. 
 
 Library, 
 
 ^ht, after 
 
 ^■atory, at 
 
 is placed 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 And Owain sci^^h thcr oner Hj^gc 
 A swithe, str(jn,L,f, naru brij^i^e : 
 
 The fcndcs scyd tho ; 
 Lo, Sir Knij;-ht, sestow this, 
 This is the brip^£;-e of Paradis, 
 
 Here oner thou must \io. 
 
 And we the schul with stones i)ro\ve 
 And the winde the schul ouer blow, 
 
 And wirche the ful wo ; 
 Thou no schalt for all this unduerd, 
 Bot ^if thou falle a midwerd, 
 
 To our fewes ' mo. 
 
 7\nd when thou art adoun }- falle, 
 Than schal com our felawcs alle, 
 
 And with her hokcs the hcde ; 
 We schul the tcche a newe playe : 
 Thou hast served ous mani a day, 
 
 And into helle the lede. 
 
 Owain biheld the brii^Gfc smert, 
 
 The water thcr under blek and swert, 
 
 And sore him <j^an to drede ; 
 For of othini^ he tok yemc, 
 Never mot, in sonne heme, 
 
 Thicker than the fendes yede. 
 
 The brigge M'as as heii^h as ' tower, 
 And as scharpe as a rasour, 
 
 And naru it was also ; 
 And the water that ther run under, 
 Brend o' lighting and of thonder. 
 
 That thocht him michel wo. 
 
 Ther nis no clerk may write with ynke, 
 No no man no may bithink, 
 No no maister deuine ; 
 
 ;8i 
 
 * Sir Walter Scott says probably a contraction of "fellows." 
 
'" 'f-friini 
 
 3^2 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Tluit is ymadc forsoth ywis, 
 Under I lie bri<;i^e of paradis 
 Ilalven del tlie pine. 
 
 So the dominical ous telle, 
 Ther is the pure entrae of hello, 
 
 Seine i'oule' vcrth witncsse ; 
 Whoso falleth of the briii:<rc adown, 
 Of him nis no redcmpcion. 
 
 Neither more nor lessc. 
 
 The fcndes scyd to the Kniij^ht tho, 
 
 ' Oucr this briggc might thou nowght go, 
 
 For noneskines nede ; 
 Fie peril sorwc and wo, 
 And to that stede ther thou com fro, 
 
 Wcl fair we schul the lede.' 
 
 Owain anon began bithenchc, 
 
 Fram hou mani of the fendes wrenche, 
 
 God him saved hadde ; 
 Me sett his fot opon the brigge, 
 No feld he no scharpe cggc, 
 
 No nothing him no drad. 
 
 When the fendes yscigh tho, 
 That he was more than half ygo, 
 
 Loude thai gun to crie : 
 Alias ! Alias ! that he was born ! 
 This ich night we habe forlorn 
 
 Out of our baylie." 
 
 — Minstrelsy of Scottish Border. 
 
 » St. Paul. 
 
 %■■• 
 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOEriCAL. 
 
 
 . 
 
 ffO, 
 
 SHELLEY AND THE PURGATORY OF ST. PATRICK. 
 
 It will be of interest to quote the rollowiiiL;- passage 
 IVoin one of Shelley's best known works, "Tlli: Ci.NCi," 
 of whieh he himself says: "An idea in this si)eeeh was 
 sui^i^ested by a most sublime passage in ' Kl l^irgatorio 
 do San ratricio,' of Calderon." 
 
 " But I remember, 
 Two miles on this side of the fort, the road 
 Crosses a deep ravine ; 'tis rough and narrow, 
 And winds with short turns down the precipiee; 
 And in its depths there is a mighty roek 
 Whieh has, from unimaginable years, 
 Sustained itself with terror and with toil 
 Over the gulf, and with the agony 
 With whieh it elings seems slowly coming down ; 
 Even as a wretched soul, hour after hour, 
 Clings to the mass of life ; yet clinging, leans ; 
 And leaning, makes more dark the dread abyss 
 In which it fears to fall; beneath this crag 
 Huge as despair, as if in v.eariness, 
 The melancholy mountain yawns." 
 
 I 
 
 Border. 
 
#4 
 
 »W«*Jtti*ft,fc^..M 
 
 ■Wit 
 
 384 
 
 rUKUATORV. 
 
 ON A GREAT FUNERAL.' 
 
 AUURKY UE Vr.KE. 
 
 No more than this? The chief of nations bears 
 Her chief of sons to iiis last restinj^-place ; 
 Throii<.';h the still city, sad and slow of pace, 
 The sable pajji^eant streams ; and as it nears 
 That dome, to-dav a vault funereal, tears 
 ]<un down the ^ray-hair'd veteran's wintry face; 
 Deep organs sob, and (laj^s their front abase; 
 And the snapt wand the rite comi)lete declares. 
 Soul, that before thy Judj^e dost stand this day, 
 Disrobed of streniii'th and puissance, pomj) and power; 
 O soul ! defrauded at thine extreme hour 
 Of man's sole help from man, and latest stay. 
 Swells there for thee no prayer from all that host, 
 And is this burial but a nation's boast ? 
 
 "MORTE D' ARTHUR." 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 Then loudly cried the bold Sir Bediverc, 
 " Ah ! my Lord Arthur, whither shall I go? 
 Where shall 1 hide my forehead and my eyes ? 
 For now I see the true old times are dead. 
 When every morning brought a noble chance. 
 And every chance brought out a noble knight. 
 Such times have been not since the light that led 
 The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh. 
 But now the whole Round Table is dissolved 
 Which was an image of the mighty world ; 
 And I, the last, go forth companionless, 
 
 * The above lines npply witli peculiar imprcssiveness to the funeral of 
 General Grant, so lately occupying public attention. 
 
 «.^ 
 
LEGKNDAUY AM) rcM'/PICAL. 
 
 385 
 
 :ars 
 
 lace ; 
 
 ires. 
 
 day, 
 
 id power; 
 
 ,t host, 
 
 led 
 
 And tlic days darken round me, and tlic years, 
 .Anioni:^ new men, stranj^e laees, other minds." 
 
 And slowly answered ^Arthur iVotn the barj^e: 
 "The old Older ehanij^eth, yieldini^ place to new, 
 And (iod Inllils Himself in many ways. 
 Lest one j^ood custom should corrupt the world. 
 Conil'ort t'.iysell : what comfort is in me? 
 I have lived my life, and that which I have done 
 May He within Himself make pure! but thou. 
 If thou shouldst never sec my face a<^ain, 
 I *ray for my soul. M(jre thin^i^s arc wroui^ht by prayer 
 Than this world dreams of. Where fore, let thy voice 
 Rise like fountain for me nii;ht and day. 
 For what arc men better than sheep or <^oats 
 That nourish a blind life within the brain. 
 If, knowinj^ God, they lift not hands of jiraycr 
 Both for themselves and those who call them friend? 
 For so the whole round earth is every way 
 Bound by j^old chains about the feet of Ciod. 
 But now farewell ! I am j^oinr^ a long- way 
 With these thou secst — if indeed I i^o 
 (For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) 
 To the island-valley of Avilion ; 
 Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow ; 
 Nor ever wind blows loudly ; but it lies 
 Deep-meadowed, happy, fair wdth orchard lawns 
 And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea. 
 Where 1 will heal nic of my grievous wound." 
 
 So said he, and the barge with oar and sail 
 Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted swan. 
 That, fluting a wild carol, ere her death, 
 Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood 
 With swarthy webs. Long stood wSir Bedivere 
 Revolving many memories, till the hull 
 Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn, 
 And on the meer the wailing died away. 
 
 Ifuncral of 
 
 'Ti 
 
Us,i«a»K»i., ^.4«L^>j|ju.j*kfc,, 
 
 386 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I 
 
 u 
 
 GUIDO AND HIS BROTHER. 
 
 COLI.I.N DK TLANCY. 
 
 The brother who fori^cts his brother is no longer a man 
 stcr. — St, John Ciikysostom. 
 
 he IS a mon- 
 
 Peter tlic Venerable .elates the story of a lord of his 
 time, named Guy or Guido, who had lost his life in 
 battle ; this was very common in the Middle Ages, when 
 the nobles were beyond all else i^reat warriors. As this 
 Guido had not been able to make his last confession, he 
 appeared fully armed, to a priest, some time after his 
 death. 
 
 " Stcphanus," said he (that was the name of the priest), 
 " I pray thee go to my brother Anselm ; thou shalt tell 
 him that I conjure him to restore an ox which I took 
 from a peasant," naming him ; " and also to repair the 
 damage 1 did to a village which did not belong to me, 
 by wrongfully imposing taxes tliereupon. I was unable 
 to confess, or to expiate these two sins, for which I am 
 grievously tormented. As an assurance of what I tell 
 thee," continued the apparition, " I warn thee that, wh.en 
 thou rcturnest to thy dwelling, thou siialt find that the 
 money thou hast saved to make the pilgrimage of St. 
 James has been stolen." 
 
 The priest, on his return, actually found that his strong- 
 box had been broken open and his money carried off; but 
 he could not discharge his commission, because Anselm 
 was absent. 
 
 A lew days after, the same Guido appeared a second 
 time, to reproach Stephanus for his neglect. The good 
 priest excused himself on the impossibility of finding An- 
 selm ; but learning that he had returned to his manor, 
 lie repaired thither, and faitlifully fulfilled his commis- 
 sion. 
 
 He Avas received very coolly. Anselm told him that 
 he was not obliged to do penance for the sins of his 
 brother; and with these words he dismissed him. 
 
; he is a nion- 
 
 L lord of his 
 his life in 
 Ages, when 
 rs. As this 
 Dnfession, he 
 no after his 
 
 f the pricst\ 
 ou shalt tell 
 ^rhich 1 took 
 :o repair the 
 -long- to me, 
 I was unable 
 which I am 
 what 1 tell 
 c that, when 
 Ifind that the 
 tmage of ^t. 
 
 lat his strong- 
 Vricd off; but 
 lausc Anselm 
 
 cd a second 
 The good 
 )f finding An- 
 te his manor, 
 
 his commis- 
 
 Mld him that 
 sins of his 
 him. 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 3^7 
 
 i 
 
 The dead man, who experienced no relief, ajtpearcd a 
 third time, and bemoaning his brother's harshness, he be- 
 sought the worthy servant of God to have compassion 
 himself on his distress, and assist him in his extremitv. 
 Stephanus, much affected, promised that he would. 1 le 
 restored the price of the stolen ox, gave alms to the 
 wronged village, said prayers, recommended the de- 
 ceased to all the good people he knew, and then Guido 
 appeared no more. 
 
 BERTHOLD IN PURGATORY. 
 
 COLLIN' DE TLA-NCY. 
 
 Miscrcmini mci, niisercmini mci, saltern vos, amici mci. — Jon \ix. 
 
 A SHORT time after the death of Charles the Bald, 
 there is found in Ilincmar a narrative which it may be 
 well to introduce here ; it is the journey of Berthold, or 
 Bcrnold, to Purgatory in the spirit. 
 
 Berthold was a citizen of Rheims, of good life, fulfill- 
 ing his Christian duties and enjoying public esteem. lie 
 was subject to ecstasies, or syncope, which sometimes 
 lasted a good while. Then, whether he had visions, or 
 that his soul transported itself or was transported out of 
 his body — an effect which is evidently produced in our 
 days by magnetism — he made, in his ecstasies, several 
 journeys into Purgatory. 
 
 Plaving fallen seriously ill when already well advanced 
 in age, he received all the sacraments which console the 
 conscience ; after which he remained four entire davs in a 
 sort of ecstasy, during which he took no nourishment of 
 any kind. At the end of the fourth day he had become 
 so weak that there was hardly any breath in him. About 
 midnight, however, he begged his wife to send quickly 
 for his confessor. He afterwards remained motionless. 
 
 ', 1 
 
388 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 But, at the end of a quarter of an hour, he said to his 
 wife : 
 
 ** Place a scat here, for the priest is coming." 
 
 He entered the moment after, and recited the beautiful 
 prayers for the departing soul, to which 13erthold re- 
 sponded clearly and exactly. After this he had again a 
 moment of ecstasy ; and, coming out of it, he related his 
 several visits to Purgatory, and the commissions where- 
 with he had been charged by many suffering souls. 
 
 He was conducted by a spirit, an Angel doubtless. 
 Amongst those who were being purified, in ice or in fire, 
 he found Ebbon, Archbishop of Rheims ; Pardule, Bishop 
 of Laon ; Ence, Bishop of Paris, and some other prelates, 
 clothed in filthy garments, torn and rusty. Their faces 
 were wrinkled, haggard, and sallow. Ebbon besought 
 him to ask the clergy and people of Rheims to pray for 
 him and his companions, who made him the same re- 
 quest. He charged himself with all these commissions. 
 
 He found, farther on, or in another visit, the soul of 
 Charles the Bald, extended in the mud and much ex- 
 hausted. The ex-king asked Bcrthold to recommend 
 him to Archbishop Plincmar and the princes of his family, 
 acknowledging that he was principally punished lor 
 having given ecclesiastical benefices to courtiers and 
 worldl}' laics, as had been done by his ancestor, Charles 
 Martel. Bcrthold promised to do what he could.' 
 
 Farther on, and perhaps also on a lother occasion, he 
 saw Jesse, Bishop of Orleans, in the liands of four dark 
 spirits, who were plunging him alternately into a well of 
 boiling pitch and one of ice-cold water. Not far from 
 him. Count Othairc was in other torments. The two 
 sufferers recommended themselves, like the others, to the 
 pious offices of Bcrthold, who faithfully executed the 
 commissions of the souls in pain. He applied, on behalf 
 of the bishops, to their clergy and people ; for King 
 Charles the Bald, to Archbishop Hincmar. He wrote 
 besides — for he was a lettered man — to the relatives of the 
 deceased monarch, makinir known to them tlie state 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETIC A L. 
 
 3^9 
 
 aid to his 
 
 2 beautiful 
 rtholcl rc- 
 id aijjain a 
 related his 
 ons wherc- 
 
 ouls. 
 doubtless. 
 
 c or in tire, 
 ule, Bishop 
 cr prelates, 
 Their faces 
 11 besought 
 to pray for 
 ic same re- 
 nmissions. 
 the soul of 
 I mueh ex- 
 rccommend 
 f his family, 
 
 inished for 
 lurtiers and 
 
 or, Charles 
 
 uld.- 
 
 iccasion, he 
 four dark 
 to a well of 
 lot far from 
 The two 
 hers, to the 
 tecuted the 
 :1, on behalf 
 ibr Kinj; 
 lie wrote 
 tives of the 
 n the state 
 
 wherein he had seen him. He went t(D urge the wife of 
 Othaire, his vassals and friends, to oiler up prayers and 
 give alms for him ; and in a last visit which he was per- 
 mitted to make, he learned that Count Othaire and 
 Bishop Jesse were delivered ; King Charles the Bald had 
 reached the term of his punishment ; and he saw tlie 
 Bishops Ebbon, Enee, and Bardule, who thanked him as 
 they went forth from Purgatory, fresh and robed in white. 
 After this account, whereto Bcrthold subjoined tliat 
 his guide had promised him some more years of life, lie 
 asked for Holy Communion, received it, felt himself 
 cured, left his bed on the following day, and his life was 
 prolonged for fourteen years. 
 
 A LEGEND OF ST. NICHOLAS. 
 
 Let us quote here, says Collin de Plancy, a good Eng- 
 lish religious whose journey has been related by Peter 
 the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, and by Denis tiie Car- 
 thusian. This traveller speaks in the first person : 
 
 " I had St. Nicholas for a guide," he says ; " he led 
 me by a level road to a vast horrible space, peopled with 
 the dead, wdio were tormented in a thousand frightful 
 ways. I w^as told that these people were not damned, 
 that their torment would in time come to an end, and 
 that it was Purgatory I saw. I did not expect to find it 
 so severe. All these unfortunates wept hot tears and 
 groaned aloud. Since I have seen all these things 1 
 know well that if I had any relative in Purgatory, I 
 would suffer a thousand deaths to take him out of it. 
 
 " A little farther on, I perceived a valley, through 
 which flowed a fearful river of fire, which rose in waves 
 to an enormous height. On the banks of that river it 
 was so icy cold that no one can have any idea of it. St. 
 Nicholas conducted me thither, and made me observe 
 the sufferers who were there, telling mc that this again 
 was Purgatory." 
 
 ;lj 
 
■ ( 
 
 390 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 "DREAM OF GERONTIUS." 
 
 CARDINAI, NEWMAN. 
 
 Angel. Thy judgment now is near, for we are come 
 Into the veiled presence of our God. 
 
 Soul. I hear the voices that I left on earth. 
 
 Angel. It is the voice of friends around thy bed, 
 Who say the " Subvcnite " with the priest. 
 Hither the echoes come ; before the Throne 
 Stands the great Angel of the Agony, 
 The same who strengthened Him, what time He knelt 
 Lone in that garden shade, bedewed with blood. 
 That Angel best can plead with Him for all 
 Tormented souls, the dying and the dead. 
 
 Angel of the Agony. Jcsu ! by that shuddering 
 dread which fell on Thee ; 
 Jesu ! by that cold dismay v/hich sicken'd Thee ; 
 Jesu ! by that pang of heart which thrill'd in Thee ; 
 Jesu ! by that moiuit of sins which crippled Thee ; 
 Jesu ! by that sense of guilt which stifled Thee; 
 Jesu ! by that innocence which girdled Thee; 
 Jcsu ! by that sanctity which reign'd in Thee ; 
 Jesu ! by that Godhead which was one with Thee ; 
 Jcsu ! spare these souls which arc so dear to Thee ; 
 Who in prison, calm and patient, wait for Thee ; 
 Hasten, Lord, their hour, and bid them come to Thee, 
 To that glorious Home, where they shall ever gaze on 
 Thee. 
 
 Soul. I go before my Judge. Ah ! . . . 
 
 Angel. . . . Praise to His Name ! 
 
 The eager spirit has darted from my hold, 
 And, with the intemperate energy of love. 
 Flies to the dear feet of Emmanuel ; 
 But, ere it reach them, the keen sanctity. 
 Which, with its effluence, like a glory, clothes 
 And circles round the Crucified, has seized, 
 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 391 
 
 e are come 
 
 h. 
 
 hy bed, 
 
 I He knelt 
 )od. 
 
 shuddering 
 
 hee ; 
 
 Thee ; 
 
 hee ; 
 ee; 
 
 Thee ; 
 Thee ; 
 ice ; 
 
 to Thee, 
 ver gaze on 
 
 :s 
 
 And scorch'd, and shrivell'd it ; and now it lies 
 Passive and still bctore the awtul Throne. 
 
 happy, suflcring soul ! for it is safe, 
 Consumed, yet quickcn'd, by the glance of GckI. 
 
 Soul. Take me away, and in the lowest deep 
 
 There let me be. 
 And there in hope the lone night-watches keep, 
 
 Told out for me. 
 There, motionless and happy in my pain, 
 
 Lone, not forlorn, — 
 There will I sing my sad, perpetual strain, 
 
 Until tlie morn. 
 There will 1 sing, and soothe my stricken breast. 
 
 Which ne'er can cease 
 To throb, and pine, and languish, till possess'd 
 
 Of its Sole Peace. 
 There will I sing my absent Lord and Love : — 
 
 Take me away, 
 That sooner I may rise, and go above. 
 And sec Him in the truth of everlasting day. 
 
 AxGEL. Now let the golden prison ope its gates, 
 Making sweet music, as each fold revolves 
 Upon its ready hinge. And ye, great powers. 
 Angels of Purgatory, receive from me 
 My charge, a precious soul, until the day. 
 When from all bond and forfeiture released, 
 
 1 shall reclaim it for the courts of light. 
 
 Souls in Purgatory, i. Lord, Thou hast been our 
 refuge : in every generation ; 
 
 2. i3eforc the hills were born, and the world was : from 
 age to age. Thou art God. 
 
 3. Bring us not, Lord, very low : for Thou hast said, 
 Come back again, ye sons of Adam ! 
 
 4. A thousand years before Thine eyes are but as yes- 
 terday : and as a watch of the night which is come and 
 
 ! 
 
 gone. 
 
 5. The grass springs up in the morning: at evening- 
 tide it shrivels up and dies. 
 
rit». .-rt ia i5i'' -»-- 
 
 I 
 
 V\ 
 
 392 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 6. So we fall in Thine anger : and in Thy wrath are we 
 troubled. 
 
 7. Thou hast set our sins in Thy sight: and our round 
 of days in the light of Thy countenance. 
 
 8. Come back, O Lord ! how long : and be entreated 
 for Thy servants. 
 
 9. In Thy morning we shall be filled with Thy mercy : 
 we shall rejoice and be in pleasure all our days. 
 
 10. We shall be glad according to the days of our 
 humiliation : and the years in which we have seen evil. 
 
 11. Look, O Lord, upon Thy servants and upon Thy 
 work : and direct their children. 
 
 12. And let the beauty of the Lord our God be upon 
 us : and the work of our hands, establish Thou it. 
 
 Glory be to the Father, and to the Son : and to the 
 Holy Ghost. 
 
 As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be : 
 world without end. Amen. 
 
 Angel. Softly and gently, dearly-ransom'd soul. 
 
 In my most loving arms I now enfold thee, 
 And, o'er the penal waters, as they roll, 
 
 I poise thee, and I lower thee, and hold thee. 
 
 And carefully I dip thee in the lake. 
 
 And thou, without a sob, or a resistance, 
 
 Dost through the flood thy rapid passage take. 
 Sinking deep, deeper, into the dim distance. 
 
 Angels, to whom the willing task is given. 
 
 Shall tend, and nurse, and lull thee, as thou liest ; 
 
 And Masses on the earth, and prayers in heaven. 
 Shall aid thee at the throne of the Most High. 
 
 Farewell, but not for ever ! brother dear, 
 Be brave and patient on thy bed of sorrow ; 
 
 Swiftly shall pass thy night of trial here. 
 And I will come and wake thee on the morrow. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 393 
 
 ath are we 
 
 our round 
 
 entreated 
 
 hy mercy : 
 
 lys of our 
 5een evil, 
 upon Thy 
 
 3d be upon 
 
 I it. 
 
 and to the 
 
 r shall be : 
 
 111, 
 thee, 
 
 Id thee. 
 
 cc, 
 
 e take, 
 ;tance. 
 
 n, 
 
 thou liest ; 
 I heaven, 
 st High. 
 
 rrow ; 
 morrow. 
 
 \ 
 
 ^ 
 
 ST. GREGORY RELEASES THE SOUL OF THE EMPEROR 
 
 TRAJAN. 
 
 MRS. JAMICSON, 
 
 In a little picture in the Bologna Academy lie is seen 
 praying before a tomb, on which is inscribed " Trajano 
 Imperador ; " beneath are two angels, raising the soul of 
 Trafan out of flames. Such is the usual treatment of this 
 curious and poetical legend, which is thus related in the 
 " LcgendaAurea": " It happened on a time, as Trajan was 
 hastening to battle at the head of his legions, that a poor 
 widow flung herself in his path, and cried aloud for jus- 
 tice, and the emperor stayed to listen to her; and she de- 
 manded vengeance for the innocent blood of her son, 
 killed by the son of the emperor. Trajan promised to do 
 her justice when he returned from his ex})edItion. ' But, 
 sire', answered the widow, 'should you be killed in battle, 
 who will then do me justice?' * My successor,' replied 
 Trajan. And she said, ' What will it signify to you, 
 great emperor, that any other than yourself should do 
 me justice? Is it not better that you should do this 
 good action yourself than leave another to do it?' And 
 Trajan alighted, and having examined into the affair, he 
 gave up his own son to her in place of him she had lost, 
 and bestowed on her likewise a rich dowry. Now, it 
 came to pass that as Gregory was one day meditating in 
 his daily walk, this action of the Emperor Trajan came 
 into his mind, and he w^ept bitterly to think that a man 
 so just should be condemned to eternal punishment. 
 And entering a church, he pra)'cd most fervently tliat 
 the soul of the good emperor might be released from tor- 
 ment. And a voice said to him, ' I have granted thy 
 prayer, and I have spared the soul of Tr:ijan for thy 
 sake ; but because thou hast supplicated for one whom 
 the justice of God had already condemned, thou shalt 
 choose one of two thing-s : either thou shait endure for 
 
394 
 
 rURCATORY. 
 
 two days the fires of Piiri2^atory,or tlioii shalt be sick and 
 infirm for the remainder of thy life.' Grei^ory chose the 
 latter, which sufficiently accounts for the grievous pains 
 and infirmities to which this j^reat and good man was 
 subjected, even to the day of his death." 
 
 This story of Trajan was extremely popular in the 
 Middle Ages ; it is illustrative of the character of Greg- 
 ory. . . . Dante twice alludes to it. He describes it 
 as being one of the subjects sculptured on the walls of 
 Purgatory, and takes occasion to relate the whole story. 
 
 ** There was storied on the rock 
 Th' exalted glory of the Roman Prince, 
 Whose mighty worth moved Gregory to earn 
 This mighty conquest — Trajan the Emperor. 
 A widow at his bridle stood attired 
 In tears and mourning. Round about them troop'd 
 Pull throng of knights: and overhead in gold 
 The eagles floated, struggling with the wind 
 The wretch appear'd amid all these to say : 
 ' Grant vengeance, sire ! for woe, beshrew this heart, 
 My son is murder'd ! ' He, replying, seem'd : 
 ' Wait now till I return.' And she, as one 
 Made hasty by her grief: * O, sire, if thou 
 Dost not return?' — ' Where I am, who then is, 
 May right thee.' — *■ What to thee is others' good, 
 If thou neglect thine own ? ' — * Now comfort thee,' 
 At length he answers : * It bcseemeth well 
 My duty be perform'd, ere I move hence. 
 So justice wills and pity bids me stay.' " — Purg. Canto X. 
 
 It was through the efficacy of St. Gregory's interces- 
 sion that Dante afterwards finds Trajan in Paradise, 
 seated between King David and King Hczekiah. — Piirg. 
 Canto XX. 
 
I sick and 
 chose the 
 ous pains 
 man was 
 
 ir in the 
 of Grcg- 
 ;scribes it 
 c walls of 
 Ac story. 
 
 ' 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 395 
 
 )op'cl 
 
 heart, 
 
 ST. GREGORY AND THE MONK. 
 
 There was a monk who, in defiance of liis vow of pov- 
 erty, secreted in his cell tb'"ee })ieces of i^old. Grei^ory, 
 on learning; this, excommunicated him, and sliortly after- 
 wards the monk died. When Grej^ory heard that the 
 monk had perished in his sin, without receivinij^ absolu- 
 tion, he was hlled with grief and horror, and he wrote 
 upon a parchment a })rayer and a form of absolution, and 
 gave it to one of his deacons, desiring him to go to the 
 grave of the deceased and read it there : on the following 
 night the monk appeared in a vision, and revealed to him 
 his release from torment. 
 
 This story is represented in the beautiful bas-relief in 
 v;hite marble in front of the altar of his chapel ; it is the 
 last compartment on the right. 
 
 -X- -A- -X- "A" -X- Vj VV- 
 
 In chapels dedicated to the ^Service of the Dead, wSt. 
 Gregory is often represented in the attitude of supplica- 
 tion, while on one side, or in the background, angels arc 
 raising the tormented souls out of the flames. — Sacred and 
 Legendary Art, Vol. I. 
 
 d, 
 ee,' 
 
 . Canto X. 
 
 s interces- 
 
 Paradise, 
 
 ah. — Purg. 
 
 
 THE LEGEND OF GEOFFROID D'IDEN. 
 
 It is related by Peter the Venerable, Abbot of Cluny, 
 that, in the first half of the twelfth century, the Lord 
 Humbert, son of Guichard, Count de Bcaujeu, in the 
 Maronnais, having made war on some other nei2:hborin2: 
 lords, Geoffroid d'Iden, one of his vassals, received in the 
 hght a wound which instantly killed him. Two months 
 after his death, Geoffroid appeared to iMilon d'Ansa, 
 who knew him well ; he begged him to tell Hum- 
 bert dc Beaujeu, in whose service he had lost his life, 
 
39^ 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 that he was in l^urfjatory, for having aided him in an un- 
 just war and not havin<^ expiated his sins by penance, be- 
 fore his unlooked-for death ; that he besought him, there- 
 fore, most urgently, to have compassion on him, and also 
 on his own father, Guichard, who, although he had led a 
 religious life at Cluny in his latter days, had not entirely 
 satisfied the justice of God for his past sins, and espe- 
 cially for a portion of his wealth, which, as his children 
 knew, was ill gained ; that, in consequence thereof, he 
 prayed him to have the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass offered 
 for him and for his father, to distribute alms to the poor, 
 and to recommend both sufferers to the prayers of good 
 people, in order to shorten their time of penance. " Tell 
 him," added the apparition, '* that if he hear thee not, I 
 must go myself to announce to him that which I have 
 now told to thee." 
 
 The lord of Ansa (now Anse) faithfully discharged the 
 task imposed upon him. Humbert was frightened ; but 
 he neither had prayers nor Masses offered up, made no 
 reparation, and distributed no alms. 
 
 Nevertheless, fearing lest Guichard his father or Geof- 
 froid d'lden might come to disturb him, he no longer 
 dared to remain alone, especially by night ; and he always 
 had some of his people around him, making them sleep 
 in his chamber. 
 
 One morning, as he was still in bed, but awake, he saw 
 appc^ar before him Geoffroid d'ldcn, armed as on the 
 day of the battle. Showing him the mortal wound which 
 he had received, and which appeared still fresh, he 
 warmly reproached him for the little pity he had for him- 
 self and for his father, who was groaning in torment ; 
 and he added : *' Take care lest God may treat thee in 
 His rigor, and refuse thee the mercy thou dost not grant 
 to us ; and for thee, give up thy purpose of going to the 
 w^ar with Amadeus. If thou gocst thither, thou shalt 
 lose thy life and thy possessions." 
 
 At that moment, Richard de Marsay, the Count's 
 squire, entered, coming from Mass; the spirit disap- 
 
in an un- 
 lancc, bc- 
 im, thcrc- 
 
 und also 
 had led a 
 t entirely 
 and cspe- 
 
 children 
 icrcof, he 
 ss oficrcd 
 the poor, 
 s of good 
 c. ''Tell 
 lee not, I 
 :h I have 
 
 irgcd the 
 :ned ; but 
 , made no 
 
 r or Geof- 
 lo longer 
 he always 
 lem sleep 
 
 e, he saw 
 s on the 
 nd which 
 fresh, he 
 I for him- 
 torment ; 
 t thee in 
 not grant 
 ng to the 
 lOLi shalt 
 
 Count's 
 it disap- 
 
 
 1 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAI-. 
 
 397 
 
 pcared, and tlicnceforward Humbert de Beaujcu went 
 seriously to work to relieve his fatiier and his vassal, after 
 which he made the journey to Jerusalem to expiate his 
 own sins. 
 
 T 
 
 f 
 
 THE aUEEN OF PURGATORY. 
 
 «Y FREDKRICK WIM.IAM lAliKP, D. 1). 
 
 On ! turn to Jesus, i>Iother ! turn, 
 
 And call Him by His tcnderest names ; 
 
 Pray for the Holy Souls that burn 
 This hour amid the cleansing flames. 
 
 Ah ! they have fought a gallant fight ; 
 
 In death's cold arms they persevered; 
 And, after life's unchecry night. 
 
 The harbor of their rest is ncared. 
 
 In pains beyond all earthly pains 
 Fav'ritcs of Jesus, there they lie. 
 
 Letting the fire wear out their stains, 
 And worshipping God's purity. 
 
 Spouses of Christ they are, for He 
 Was wedded to them by His blood ; 
 
 And angels o'er their destiny 
 In wondering adoration brood. 
 
 They are the children of thy tears ; 
 
 Then hasten. Mother ! to their aid ; 
 In pity think each hour appears 
 
 An age while glory is delayed ! 
 
 Sec, how they bound amid their fires, 
 While pain and love their spirits fill ; 
 
 Then, with self-crucified desires. 
 Utter sweet murmurs, and lie still. 
 
i 
 
 
 ill 
 
 (! 
 
 398 PURGATORY. 
 
 Ah me ! the love of Jesus yearns 
 O'er that abyss of sacrctl pain ; 
 
 And, as He looks, His bosom Inirns 
 With Calvary's dear thirst: again. 
 
 O Mary ! let thy Son no more 
 
 His lingering spouses thus expeet ; 
 
 God's children to their God restore, 
 And to the Spirit His elect. 
 
 Pray then, as thou hast ever prayed ; 
 
 Angels and Souls all look to thee ; 
 God waits thy i)rayers, for He hath made 
 
 Those prayers His law of charity. 
 
 THE DEAD PRIEST BEFORE THE ALTAR. 
 
 REV. A. J. KYAX. 
 
 Who will watch o'er the dead young priest, 
 
 People and priests and all? 
 No, no, no, 'tis his spirit's feast, 
 
 When the evening shadows fall. 
 Let him rest alone — unwatched, alone, 
 
 Just beneath the altar's light, 
 The holy Hosts on their humble throne 
 
 Will watch him through the night. 
 
 The doors were closed — he was still and fair, 
 
 What sound moved up the aisles ? 
 The dead priests come with soundless praj^er, 
 
 Their faces wearing smiles. 
 And this was the soundless hymn they sung : 
 
 ** We watch o'er you to-night ; 
 Your life was beautiful, fair and young, 
 
 Not a ^ loud upon its light. 
 To-morrow — to-morrow you will rest 
 With the virgin priests whom Christ has blest." 
 
T^Fr.KNDARV AND rOKTICAT,. 
 
 390 
 
 -' 
 
 adc 
 
 Kyric Elcisnn ! the stricken crowd 
 
 1J()\v<mI duwii llicir heads in tears 
 O'er the su'cct youiiu^ priesl in liis vestment shroud. 
 
 Ah! the liai*|)v, li >i)i)y years! 
 They arc dead and j^^one, and the I'veciuieni Mass 
 
 Went slowly, rnnnrntully on, 
 The Pontitf 's sini(ing u ;is all a wail, 
 
 The altars cried and the people wept, 
 The fairest llower in the Church's vale 
 
 Ah nie ! how soon we pa3s ! 
 
 In the vase of his coffin slept. 
 
 — From In Mctnoriain. 
 
 I! 
 
 IR. 
 
 !St, 
 
 MEMORIALS OF THE DEAD. 
 
 R. R. MADUEN.' 
 
 'Trs not alone in *' hallowed j^round," 
 
 At every step we tread 
 Midst tombs and sepulchres, are found 
 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 'Tis not in sacred shrines alone. 
 Or trophies proudly spread 
 
 On old cathedral walls are shown 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 :ir, 
 rcr, 
 
 is • 
 
 1 
 
 lest." 
 
 Emblems of Fame surmounting death, 
 
 Of war and carnage dread, 
 They were not, in the " Times of Faith," 
 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 From marble bust and pictured traits 
 
 The living looks recede, 
 They fade away : so frail are these 
 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 ' Author of "Lives and Times of United Irishmen." 
 
400 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 On mural slabs, names loved of yore 
 
 Can now be scarcely read ; 
 A few brief years liavc left no more 
 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 Save those which pass from sire to son, 
 
 Traditions that are bred 
 In the heart's core, and make their own 
 
 Memorials of the dead. 
 
 A CHILD'S REaUIESCAT IN PACE. 
 
 ELIZA ALLEN STARR. 
 
 With the gray dawn's faintest break, 
 Mother, faithiuUy I wake, 
 Whispering softly for thy sake 
 Rcqiiicscat in pace ! 
 
 When the sun's broad disk at height 
 Floods the busy world with light, 
 Breathes my soul with sighs contrite, 
 Rcqiiicscat in pace ! 
 
 When the twilisfht shadows lone 
 Wrap the home once, once thine own, 
 Sobs my heart with broken moan, 
 Rcqiiicscat in pace ! 
 
 Night, so solemn, grand, and still. 
 Trances forest, meadow, rill ; 
 Hush, fond heart, adore I lis will, 
 Rcqiiicscat in pace ! 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 401 
 
 )re 
 
 D son, 
 r own 
 
 B. 
 
 cak, 
 
 :ht 
 
 'ite, 
 
 >wn, 
 
 
 THE SOLITARY SOUL, 
 
 I DIED ; but my soul did not wing its flight straight to 
 the hcaven-nest, and there repose in the bosom of Ilim 
 who made it, as the minister who was with me said it 
 would. Good old man ! He had toiled among us, preach- 
 ing, baptizing, marrying, and burying, until his hair had 
 turned from nut-brown to frost-white ; and he told me, as 
 I lay dying, that the victory of the Cross was the only 
 passport I needed to the joys of eternity ; that a life Hke 
 mine would meet its immediate reward. And it did ; 
 but, O my God ! not as he had thought, and I had be- 
 lieved. 
 
 As he prayed, earth's sights and sounds faded from me, 
 and the strange, new life began. The wrench of agony 
 with which soul and body parted left me breathless ; and 
 my spirit, like a lost child, turned frightened eyes to- 
 wards home. 
 
 I stood in a dim, wind-swept space. No gates of pearl 
 or walls of jacinth met my gaze ; no streaming glory 
 smote my eyes ; no voice bade me enter and put on the 
 wedding garment. Hosts of pale shapes circled by, 
 but no one saw me. All had their faces uplifted, and 
 their hands — such patient, pathetic hands — were clasped 
 on their hearts ; and the air was heavy with the whisper,* 
 " Christ ! Christ ! " that came unceasingly from their lips. 
 
 Above us, the clouds drifted and turned ; about us, the 
 horizon was blotted out ; mist and grayness were every- 
 where. A voiceless wind swept by ; and as I gazed, sore 
 dismayed and saddened, a rent opened in the driving 
 mass, and I saw a man standing with arms upraised. lie 
 was strangely vestured ; silver and gold gleamed in his 
 raiment, and a large cross was outlined upon his back. 
 He held in his hands a chalice of gold, in which sparkled 
 something too liquid for fire, too softly brilliant for water 
 or wine. 
 
r 
 
 I 
 
 402 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 As this sight broke on our vision, two figures near me 
 uttered a cry, whose rapturous sweetness filled space 
 with melody ; and, like the up-springing lark, borne aloft 
 by the beauty of tlieir song, they vanished ; and those 
 about me bowed their heads, and ceased their moan for a 
 moment. 
 
 "What is it?" I cried. "Who is the man? What 
 was it he held in his hand ? " 
 
 But there was none to answer me, and I drove along 
 before the wind with the rest, helpless, bewildered. 
 
 How long this lasted I do not know ; for there was 
 neither night nor day in the sad place ; and a fire of long- 
 ing burnt in my breast, so keen, so strong, that all other 
 sensation was swallowed up. 
 
 And then, too, my grief! Tiierc were many deeds of 
 my life to which I had given but casual regret. When 
 the minister would counsel us to confess our sins to God, 
 I had knelt in the church and gone through the form ; 
 but here, where the height and depth and breadth of 
 God's perfection dawned upon me, and grew hourly 
 clearer, they seemed to rend my heart, and to far outweigh 
 any little good T might have done. Oh ! why did no 
 one ever preach the justice of God to me, and the neces- 
 sity of personal atonement ! Why had they only taught 
 me, " Believe, and you shall be saved ? " 
 
 Time by time, the shapes about me rose and vanished 
 with the same cry as the two I saw liberated in my first 
 hour; and sometimes — like an echo — the sound of human 
 voices would go through space — some choked with tears, 
 some low with sadness, some glad with hope. 
 
 ** Eternal rest grant to them, O Lord!" 
 
 " And let perpetual light shine upon them ! " 
 
 " May they rest in peace ! " 
 
 And the " Amen " tolled like a silver bell, and I would 
 feel a respite. 
 
 But no one called wr by name, no one prayed for my 
 freedom. My mother's voice, my sister's dream, my 
 father's belief — all were that I was happy before the face 
 
ires near mc 
 filled space 
 c, borne aloft 
 1 ; and those 
 ir moan for a 
 
 nan ? What 
 
 drove alonjr 
 
 dered. 
 
 r thei-e was 
 
 fire of loner- 
 
 lat all other 
 
 ny deeds of 
 ret. When 
 sins to God, 
 1 the form ; 
 breadth of 
 rew hourly 
 ir outweigh 
 ivhy did no 
 i the neces- 
 3nly taught 
 
 id vanished 
 
 in my first 
 
 d of human 
 
 with tears, 
 
 id I would 
 
 ed for my 
 ream, mv 
 ■e the face 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 403 
 
 of God. And friends forgot mc, except in their pleas- 
 ures. 
 
 At seasons, through the mist would loom an altar, at 
 which a man, in black robes embroidered with silver, 
 bowed and bent. The chalice, with its always wonder- 
 ful contents, would be raised, and a disc, in wh(^se circle 
 of whiteness I saw Christ crucified. From the thorn- 
 wounds, the Hands, the Feet, the Side, shot rays of daz- 
 zling brightness ; and my frozen soul, my tear-chilled 
 eyes, were warmed and gladdened ; for the man who 
 held this wondrous image would himself sigh : *' For all 
 the dead, sweet Lord ! " And to me, even me, would 
 come hope and peace. 
 
 But, oh ! the agony, oh ! the desolateness, to be cut off 
 from the sweet guerdon of immediate release ! Oh ! the 
 pain of expiating every fault, measure for measure ! Oh, 
 the grief of knowing that my own deeds were the chains 
 of my captivity, and my unfulfilled duties the barriers 
 that withheld me from beholding the Beatific Vision ! 
 
 Sometimes a gracious face would gleam through the 
 mist — a face so tender, so human, so full of love, that I 
 yearned to hear it speak to mc, to have those radiant eyes 
 turned on mc. My companions called her "■ Mary ! " and 
 I knew it was the Virgin of Nazareth. Often she would 
 call them by name, and say: "My child, my Son bids 
 thee come home." 
 
 Why had I never known this gentle Mother! Why 
 could I not catch her mantle, and clinging to it, pass 
 from waiting to fulfilment ! 
 
 Once when I had grown grief-bowed with waiting, 
 worn with longing, I saw again the vision of the Church. 
 At a long railing knelt many young girls, and they re- 
 ceived at the hands of the priest what I had learned to 
 discern as the Body of the Lord. One — God bless her 
 tender heart ! — whispered as she knelt : " O dearest Lord, 
 I offer to Thee this Holy Communion for the soul tJiat 
 has no one to pray fo7' licr.'' 
 
 And through the grayness rang at last my name, and 
 
I 
 
 \ 
 
 404 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 straight to heaven I went, ransomed by that mighty 
 price, freed by prayer from prison. 
 
 ■» %(• ^- •:<- % * * 
 
 O you who live, who have voices and hearts, for the 
 sake of Christ and His Holy Mother ; by the love you 
 bear your living, and the grief you give your dead, pray 
 for those whose friends do not know how to help them ; 
 for the suddenly killed ; for the executed criminal ; and 
 for those who, having suffered long in Purgatory, need 
 one more prayer to set them free. — Ave Alaria, Novem- 
 ber 10, 1883. 
 
 THE STORY OF THE FAITHFUL SOUL. 
 
 Founded on an old French Lec^end. 
 
 ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER. 
 
 The fettered spirits linger 
 
 In purgatorial pain, 
 With penal fires effacing 
 
 Their last faint earthly stain, 
 Which Life's imperfect sorrow 
 
 Had tried to cleanse in vain. 
 
 Yet, on each feast of jNIary 
 Their sorrow finds release, 
 
 For the great Archangel Michael 
 Comes down and bids it cease ; 
 
 And the name of these brief respites 
 Is called " Our Lady's Peace." 
 
 Yet once — so runs the legend — 
 When the Archangel came, 
 
 And all these holy spirits 
 Rejoiced at jNlary's name, 
 
 One voice alone was wailing, 
 Still wailing on the same. 
 
that mighty 
 
 * 
 
 arts, for the 
 le love you 
 ' dead, pray 
 help them ; 
 iminal ; and 
 atory, need 
 -ia, Novem- 
 
 ri. 
 
 3S 
 
 LEGENDARY AND TCETICAL. 
 
 And though a great Te Deiun 
 The happy echoes woke, 
 
 This one discordant wailing 
 
 Through the sweet voices broke ; 
 
 So when St. Michael questioned, 
 Thus the poor spirit spoke : — 
 
 " I am not cold or thankless, 
 Although I still complain ; 
 
 I prize Our Lady's blessing, 
 Although it comes in vain 
 
 To still my bitter anguish, 
 Or quench my ceaseless pain. 
 
 " On earth a heart that loved mc 
 Still lives and mourns me there. 
 
 And the shadow of his anguish 
 Is more than I can bear ; 
 
 All the torment that I suffer 
 Is the thought of his despair. 
 
 " The evening of my bridal 
 Death took my Life away ; 
 
 Not all Love's passionate pleading 
 Could gain an hour's delay. 
 
 And he I left has suffered 
 A whole year since that day. 
 
 " If I could only see him — 
 
 If I could only go 
 And speak one word of comfort 
 
 And solace — then, I know, 
 He would endure with patience, 
 
 And strive against his woe." 
 
 Thus the Archangel answered : 
 '' Your time of pain is brief, 
 
 And soon the peace of Heaven 
 Will give you full relief; 
 
 405 
 
J 
 
 . 
 
 406 
 
 ' t 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Yet if his earthly comfort 
 
 So much outweighs your grief, 
 
 " Then, through a special mercy, 
 
 I offer you this irrace — 
 You may seek him who mourns you 
 
 And look upon his face, 
 And speak to him of comfort, 
 
 For one short minute's space. 
 
 " But when that time is ended, 
 
 Return here and remain 
 A thousand 3'ears in torment, 
 
 A thousand years in pain ; 
 Thus dearly must you purchase 
 
 The comfort he will gain." 
 
 ^- 
 
 Ht 
 
 ■K- 
 
 The lime-trees' shade at evening 
 Is spreading broad and wide; 
 
 Beneath their fragrant arches 
 Pace slowly, side by side. 
 
 In low and tender converse, 
 A Bridegroom and his Bride. 
 
 The night is calm and stilly, 
 
 No other sound is there 
 Except their happy voices — 
 
 What is that cold bleak air 
 That passes through the lime-trees, 
 
 And stirs the Bridegroom's hair? 
 
 While one low cry of anguish. 
 
 Like the last dying wail 
 Of some dumb, hunted creature, 
 
 Is borne upon the gale — 
 Why does the Bridegroom shudder 
 
 And turn so deathly pale ? 
 
ou 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 407 
 
 't- 
 
 Near Purgatory's entrance 
 
 The radiant Angels wait ; 
 It was the great wSt. Michael 
 
 Who closed that gloomy gate, 
 When the poor wandering spirit 
 
 Came back to meet her fate. 
 
 " Pass on," thus spoke the Angel : 
 '' Heaven's joy is deep and vast ; 
 
 Pass on, pass on, poor spirit. 
 For Heaven is yours at last ; 
 
 In that one minute's anguish, 
 Your thousand years have passed." 
 
 GENERADE, THE FRIEND OF ST. AUGUSTINE. 
 
 J. COLLIN DE I'LANCV. 
 
 St. Augustine reckoned among his friends the phy- 
 sician Generade, highly honored in Carthage, where his 
 learning and skUl were much esteemed. But by one of 
 those misfortunes of which there are, unhappily, but too 
 many examples, while studying the admirable mechanism 
 of the human body, he had come to believe matter capa- 
 ble of the works of intelligence which raise man so far 
 above other created beings. He was, therefore, a mate- 
 rialist ; and St. x\ugustine, praying for htm, earnestly be- 
 sought God to enlighten that deluded mind. 
 
 One night while he slept, this doctor, who believed, as 
 some do still, that " when one is dead, all is dead "—we 
 quote their own language — saw in his dreams a young 
 man, who said to him : " Follow me." He did so, and 
 was conducted to a city, wherein he heard, on the right, 
 unknown melodies, which iilled him with admiration. 
 What he heard on the left he never remembered. But 
 
 -"Tiiiiii rii ^ 
 
:|', 
 
 if 
 
 408 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 on awaking he concluded, from this vision, that there 
 was, somewhere, something else besides tliis world. 
 
 Another night he likewise beheld in sleep the same 
 young man, who said to him : 
 
 " Knowest thou me?" 
 
 " Very well," answered Gcnerade. 
 
 " And wherefore knowest thou me ?" 
 
 " Because of the journey we made together when you 
 showed me the city of harmony." 
 
 " Was it in a dream, or awake, that you saw and heard 
 what struck you then ? " 
 
 " It was in a dream." 
 
 ** Where is your body now? " 
 
 " In my bed." 
 
 " Knowest thou well that thou now seest nothing with 
 the eyes of the body ? " 
 
 " I know it." 
 
 " With what eyes, then, dost thou see me?" 
 
 As the physician hesitated, and could not answer, the 
 young man said to him : 
 
 " Even as thou seest and hearest me, now that thin 3 
 eyes arc closed and thy senses benumbed, so, after thy 
 death, thou slialt live, thou shalt sec, thou shalt hear — 
 but with the organs of the soul. Doubt, then, no more!" 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 409 
 
 n, that there 
 world, 
 ep the same 
 
 cr when you 
 
 L\v and heard 
 
 nothing witli 
 
 f answer, the 
 
 w that thin 3 
 so, after thy 
 shalt hear — 
 I, no more!" 
 
 ST. THOMAS AaUINAS AND FRIAE ROMANUS. 
 
 We are about to treat of facts concerninj^ which our 
 fathers never had any hesitation, because they had faith. 
 Nowadays, the trutiis which are above the material 
 sight have been so roughly handled that they are nuicli 
 diminished for us. And if the goodness of God had not 
 allowed some rays of the mysteries which He reserves 
 for Himself to escape, if some gleams of magnetism and 
 the world of spirits occupying the air around us had not 
 a little embarrassed those of our literati who make a 
 merit of not believing, we would hardly dare, in spite of 
 the grave authorities on which they rest, to represent 
 here some apparitions of souls departed from this world. 
 We shall venture to do so, nevertheless. 
 
 One day, when St. Thomas Aquinas was praying in the 
 Church of the Friars, Preachers, at Naples, the pious 
 friar Romanus, whom he had left in Paris, where he re- 
 placed him in the chair of Theology, suddenly appeared 
 beside him. Thomas, seeing him, said : 
 
 " I am (Aad of thine arrival. But how long hast thou 
 been here ? " 
 
 Romanus answered : '* I am now out of this world. 
 Nevertheless, I am permitted to come to thee, because of 
 thy merit." 
 
 The Saint, alarmed at this reply, after a moment's rec- 
 ollection, said to the apparition: "I adjure thee, by 
 Our Lord Jesus Christ, tell me simply if my w(3rks arc 
 pleasing to God ! " 
 
 Romanus replied : " Persevere in the way in which 
 thou art, and believe that what thou doest is agreeable 
 unto God." 
 
 Thomas then asked him in what state he found himself. 
 
 " I enjoy eternal life," answered Romanus. " Never- 
 theless, for having carelessly executed one clause of a 
 will which the Bishop of Paris gave me in charge, I 
 underwent for fifteen days the pains of Purgatory." 
 
 ii 'I 
 
il ! 
 
 410 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 wSt. Thomas again said : " You remind mc that wc 
 often diseusscd the question wliether the knowlcdj^e ac- 
 quired in this Hie remain in the soul alter death. I pray 
 you give me the solution thereof." 
 
 Romanus made answer : " Ask me not that. As for 
 me, I am content with seeing my God." 
 
 " Seest th(ju him face to face?" went on Thomas. 
 
 " Just as we have been taught," replied Romanus, " and 
 as 1 see thee." 
 
 With these words he left St. Thomas greatly consoled. 
 
 THE KEY THAT NEVER TURNS. 
 
 ELEANOR C. PONNKI.LY. 
 
 <( 
 
 In Purgatory, dear," I said to-day, 
 Unto my pet, " the fire burns and burns, 
 Until each ugly stain is burned away — 
 
 And then an Angel turns 
 A great, bright key, and forth the gind soul springs 
 Into the presence of the King of kings." 
 
 " But in that other prison ? " " ^Sweetest love ! 
 
 The same fierce fire burns and burns, but thence 
 None e'er escapes." The blue eyes, raised above, 
 
 Were fair with innocence. 
 '* Poor burning souls! " she whispered low, " ah mc ! 
 No Angel ever comes to turn their key ! " 
 
 VaJSlL^ 
 
 ""^ ( t ff^> ;'^?J^^s>« 
 
 
mc that wc 
 lowlcdj^c iic- 
 jath. I pray 
 
 that. As for 
 
 'homas. 
 jmanus, " and 
 
 itly consoled. 
 
 JS. 
 
 rns, 
 
 soul springs 
 
 ■st love ! 
 but thence 
 ised above, 
 
 low, " ah mc ! 
 
 LEUENDARV AND rOl^TK \L. 
 
 411 
 
 THE BURIAL. 
 
 THOMAS DAVIS. 
 
 ♦' Ul-ULU ! ululu ! wail for the dead, 
 
 Green grow the grass of Fingal on his head ; 
 
 And spring-llowers blossom, ere elsewhere appearing. 
 
 And siiamrocks grow thick on the martyr lor Erin. 
 
 Ululu ! ululu ! soft fall the dew 
 
 On thafect and the head of the martyred and true." 
 
 For a while they tread 
 
 In silence dread — 
 
 Then muttering and moaning go the crowd. 
 
 Surging and swaying like mountain cloud. 
 
 And again the wail comes wild and loud. 
 
 " Ululu ! ululu ! kind was his heart ! 
 Walk slower, walk slower, too soon we shall part. 
 The faithful and pious, the Iciest of the Lord, 
 His pilgrimage over, he has his reward. 
 
 *' By the bed of the sick, lowly kneeling. 
 
 To God with the raised cross appealing — 
 
 He seems still to kneel, and he seems still to pray. 
 
 And the sins of the dying seem i)assing away. 
 
 " In the prisoner's cell, and the cabin so dreary. 
 
 Our constant consoler, he never grew weary ; 
 
 But he's gone to his rest. 
 
 And he's now with the blest, 
 
 Where tyrant and traitor no longer molest — 
 
 Ululu ! ululu ! wail for the dead ! 
 
 Ululu ! ululu ! here is his bed." 
 
 Short was the ritual, simple the prayer. 
 Deep was the silence, and every head bare ; 
 
V ' 
 
 412 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 The Priest alone staiulinj^, they knelt all around, 
 Myriads on myriads, like rocks on the ground. 
 Kneeling- and motionless.—" Dust unto dust." 
 " lie died as becometh the faithful and just- 
 Placing in God his reliance and trust ; " 
 
 Kneeling and motionless—" Ashes to ashes"— 
 
 Hollow the clay on the coffin-lid dashes ; 
 
 Kneeling and motionless, wildly they pray, 
 
 But they ])ray in their souls, for no gesture have they- 
 
 Stern and standing— oh ! look on them now ! 
 
 Like trees to one tempest the multitude bow. 
 
 HYMN FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 NEWMAN. 
 
 Help, Lord, the souls which Thou hast made, 
 
 The souls to Thee so dear, 
 In prison, for the debt unpaid 
 
 C3f sins committed here. 
 
 Those holy souls, they suffer on, 
 
 Resign'd in heart and will, 
 Until Thy high behest is done, 
 
 And justice has its fill. 
 For daily falls, for pardon'd crime, 
 
 They joy to undergo 
 The shado\v of Thy cross sublime. 
 
 The remnant of Thy woe. 
 
 Help, Lord, the soids which Thou hast made, 
 
 The souls to Thee 30 dear, 
 In prison, for the debt unpaid 
 
 Of sins committed here. 
 
IJ'r.KNDAUY AND rOFTKAI,. 
 
 413 
 
 md, 
 d. 
 
 \ 
 
 lavc tlicy- 
 
 ( )h ! by their patience ol delay, 
 
 Their hope amid tlieir pain, 
 Tiieir sacred zeal to burn away 
 
 Disti^iireinent and stain; 
 Oh ! by their tire of h)ve, not less 
 
 In keenness than the llanie, 
 Oh ! by their very helplessness, 
 
 Oh! by Thy own ^leat Name, 
 
 • 
 
 Good Jcsu, help! sweet Jcsu, aid 
 The souls to Thee most dear, 
 
 In j)rison, for the debt unpaid 
 Of sins committed here. 
 
 st made. 
 
 it made, 
 
 THE TWO STUDENTS. 
 
 The Abbe dc Saint Pierre, says Collin dc Plancy, has 
 given a long account, in his works, of a singular occur- 
 rence which took place in 1697, and whiclf wc are in- 
 clined to relate here : 
 
 In 1695, a student named Bczucl, then about fifteen 
 years old, contracted a friendship with two other youths, 
 students like himself, and sons of an attorney of Caen, 
 named D'Abaquenc. The elder was, like Bezucl, fifteen ; 
 his brother, eighteen months younger. The latter was 
 named Desfontaines. The paternal name was then given 
 only to the eldest ; the names of those who came after 
 were formed by means of some vague properties. . . . 
 
 As the young Desfontaines' character was more in 
 unison with Bczucl's than that of his elder brother, 
 these two students became strongly attached to each 
 other. 
 
 One day during the following year, 1696, they were 
 reading together a certain history of two friends like them- 
 selves, who had promised each other, with some solem- 
 
^1 1 
 
 31 ■' 
 
 414 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 nitv, tliat he of the two who died first would come back 
 to i^ivc the survivor some account of his state. The his- 
 torian added that the dead one really did come back, and 
 that he told ins friend many wonderful things. Young 
 Desfontaines, struck by this narrative, which he did not 
 doubt, proposed to Bezuel that they should make such a 
 promise one to the other. Bezuel was at first afraid of 
 such an engagement. But several months after, in the 
 first da3's of June, 1697, as liis friend was going to set out 
 for Caen, he agreed to his jn-oposal. 
 
 Desfontaincs then drew from his pocket two papers in 
 which he had written the double agreement. Each of 
 these papers expressed the formal promise on the part of 
 him who should die first to come and make his fate 
 known to the surviving friend. He had signed with his 
 blood the one that Bezuel was to keep. Bezuel, hes- 
 itating no longer, pricked his hand, and likewise signed 
 with his blood the other document, which he gave to 
 Desfontaincs. 
 
 The latter, delighted to have the promise, set out with 
 his brother. Bezuel received some days after a letter, in 
 which his friend informed him that he had reached his 
 home in safety, and was very well. The correspondence 
 between them was to continue. But it stopped very 
 soon, and Bezuel was uneasy. 
 
 It happened that on the 31st of July, 1697, being about 
 2 o'clock in the afternoon, in a meadow where his com- 
 panions were amusing themselves with various games, 
 he felt himself suddenly stunned and taken with a sort of 
 faintness, which lasted for some minutes. Next day, at 
 the same hour, he felt the same symptoms, and again on 
 the day after. But then — it was Friday, the 2d of August 
 — he saw advancing towards him liis friend Desfontaincs, 
 who made a sign for him to come to him. Being in a 
 sitting posture, and under the influence of his swoon, he 
 made another sign to the apparition, moving on his seat 
 to make place for him. 
 
I come back 
 c. The liis- 
 ic back, and 
 gs. You no- 
 he did not 
 iiakc such a 
 rst afraid of 
 iftcr, in the 
 g to set out 
 
 o papers in 
 t. Each of 
 the part of 
 ke his fate 
 ed with his 
 5czucl, hes- 
 visc sicrncd 
 he gave to 
 
 et out with 
 a letter, in 
 cached his 
 spondence 
 pped very 
 
 eing about 
 his com- 
 us games, 
 h a sort of 
 ^xt day, at 
 ^l again on 
 of .Vugust 
 sfontaincs, 
 icing in a 
 swoon, he 
 n liis seat 
 
 LEC.EXDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 415 
 
 The comrades of Bczucl moving around saw this mo- 
 tion, and were surprised. 
 
 As Desfontaincs did not advance, Bczucl arose to go 
 to him. The ai)pariti()n then took him l)v the left arm, 
 drew him aside some tliirty paces, and said : 
 
 " I promised you that, if I died before 3'ou, 1 would 
 come to tell you. I was drowned yesterday in the river 
 at Caen, about this hour. I was out walking ; it was so 
 warm that we took a notion to bathe. A weakness came 
 over me in the river, and I sank to the bottom. The 
 Abbe de Menil-Jcan, my companion, plunged in to draw 
 me out ; I seized his foot ; but whether he thought it was 
 a salmon that had caught hold of him, or that he felt it 
 actually necessary to go up to the surface of the water 
 to breathe, he shook me off so roughly that his foot gave 
 m.e a great blow in the chest, and threw me to the bottom 
 of the river, which is there ver)' dcc[)." 
 
 IJcsfontaines then told his friend many other things, 
 which he would not divulge, whether the dead boy had 
 prayed him not to do so, or for other reasons. 
 
 Bezuel wanted to embrace the apparition, but he found 
 only a shadow. Nevertheless, the shadow had squeezed 
 his arm so tightly, that it pained him after. 
 
 He saw the spirit several times, yet always a little 
 taller than when they parted, and always in the half- 
 clothing of a bather. He wore in his fair hair a scroll on 
 wliich Bezuel could only read the word In. His voice 
 had the same sound as when he vras living, he app»eaied 
 neither n;ay nor sad, but perfectly tranquil. He charged 
 his friend with several commissions for his parents, and 
 begged him to sav for him the Seven Penitential Psalms, 
 which had been given him as a penance l)y his confessor, 
 three days before his death, and which he had not yet 
 recited. 
 
 Tlie apparition always ended by a farev7cll expressed 
 in words which signified : "Till we meet again! {An rc- 
 voir ly At last, it ceased at the end of some weeks; 
 
 I ( 
 
I ^ 
 
 l\ I 
 
 i' 
 •ii 
 
 I' 
 
 ■i I 
 
 416 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 and the survivin^^ friend, who had constantly prayed for 
 the dead, concluded from this that his Purgatory was 
 over. 
 
 This jNIonsieur Bezuel finished his studies, embraced 
 the ecclesiastical state, became ciifr of Valogne, and lived 
 long, esteemed by his parishioners and the whole city, 
 for his good sense, his virtuous life, and his love of truth. 
 
 THE PENANCE OF DON DIEGO RIEZ. 
 
 A Legend pf Lough Derg} 
 
 T. D. MCGEE. 
 
 There was a knight of Spain — Diego Riaz, 
 
 Noble by four descents, vain, rich and young, 
 Much woe he wrought, or the tradition lie is, 
 
 Which lived of old the Castilians among ; 
 His horses bore the palm the kingdom over, 
 
 His plume was tall, costliest his sword. 
 The proudest maidens wished him as a lover, 
 
 The caballcros all revered his word 
 
 But ere his day's meridian came, his spirit 
 
 Fell sick, grew palsied in his breast, and pined — 
 He fear'd Christ's kingdom he could ne'er inherit, 
 
 The causes wherefore too well he divined. 
 Where'er he turns, his sins are always near him. 
 
 Conscience still holds her mirror to his eyes. 
 Till those who long had envied came to fear him. 
 
 To mock his clouded brow and wintry sighs. 
 
 ' Lough Derg, in Donegal, was a place famous for pilgrimage from a 
 very early period, and was much resorted to out of France, Ital)', and tl'.e 
 Peninsula, during the Middle Ages, and even in the sixteenth and seven- 
 teenth centuries In Mathew Paris, and Froissart, as well as in our native 
 annals, and in O'Sullivan Bcare, there are many facts of its extraordinary 
 history. 
 
 1 
 
 li « 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 4^7 
 
 rayed for 
 itory was 
 
 embraced 
 and lived 
 lole city, 
 ' of truth. 
 
 Alas ! the sins of youth are as a chain 
 
 Of iron, swiftly let down to the deep, 
 How far we feel not — till when, we'd raise 't again 
 
 We pause amid the weary work and weep. 
 Ah, it is sad a-down Life's stream to see 
 
 So many aged toilers so distress'd, 
 And near the source — a thousand forms of glee 
 
 Fitting the shackle to Youth's glowing breast. 
 
 r 
 
 5» 
 
 He sought peace in the city where she dwells not, 
 
 He wooed her amid woodlands all in vain, 
 He searches through the valleys, but he tells not 
 
 The secret of his quest to priest or swain, 
 Until, despairing evermore of pleasure, 
 
 He leaves his land, and sails to far Peru ; 
 There, stands uncharm'd in caverns of treasure. 
 
 And weeps on mountains heavenly high and blue. 
 
 d— 
 ■it, 
 
 Incessant in his ears rang this plain warning — • 
 
 " Diego, as thy soul, thy sorrow lives '" ; 
 He hears the untired voice, night, noon, and morning, 
 
 Yet understanding not, unresting grieves. 
 One eve, a purer vision seized him, then he 
 
 Vow'd to Lough Derg, an humble pilgrimage — 
 The virtues of that shrine were known to many. 
 
 And saving held even in that skeptic age. 
 
 1, 
 
 e from a 
 and (l;e 
 cl scven- 
 jr native 
 ordinary 
 
 t 
 
 With one sole follower, an Esquire trustful, 
 
 He pass'd the southern cape which sailors fear. 
 And eastward held : meanwhile his vain and lustful 
 
 Past works more loathsome to his soul appear. 
 Through the night-watches, at all hours o' day, 
 
 He still was wakeful as the pilot, and 
 For grace, his vow to keep, doth always pray, 
 
 And for his death to lie in the saints' land. 
 
I 
 
 IIF^ 
 
 iilil 
 
 1 1 
 
 p 
 
 418 
 
 rURGyVTORY. 
 
 But ere his eyes beheld the Irish shore, 
 
 Diego died. Much gold he did ordain 
 To God and Santiago — furthermore, 
 
 His Esquire pHghted, ere he went to Spain, 
 To journey to the Refuge of tlie Lake ; 
 
 Before wSt. I'atrick's soHtary shrine, 
 A nine days' vigil for his rest to make. 
 
 Living on bitter bread and penitential wine.' 
 
 The vassal vow'd ; but, ah ! how seldom pledges 
 
 Given to the dying, to the dead, are held ! 
 The Esquire reach'd the shore, where sand and sedge is 
 
 O'er melancholy hills, by paths of eld ; 
 Treeless and houscle^'S was the prospect round. 
 
 Rock-strewn and boisterous the lake before ; 
 A Charon-shape in a skiff a-ground — 
 
 The pilgrim turned, and left the sacred shore. 
 
 That night he lay a-bed hard by the Erne — 
 
 The island-spangled lake — but could not sleep — 
 When lo ! beside him, pale, and sad, and stern. 
 
 Stood his dead master, risen from the deep. 
 "Arise," he said, "and come." From the hostelrie 
 
 And over the bleak hills he led the sleeper. 
 And when they reach'd Derg's shore, " Get in with me," 
 
 He cried ; " nor sink my soul in torments deeper." 
 
 The dead man row'd the boat, the- living steer'd, 
 
 Each in his pallor sinister, until 
 The Isle of Pilgrimage they duly near'd — 
 
 ■' Now hie thee forth, and work thy master's will ! " 
 So spoke the dead, and vanish 'd o'er che lake, 
 
 The Squire pursued his course, and gain'd the shrine, 
 There, nine days' vigil duly he did make. 
 
 Living on bitter bread and penitential wine. 
 
 ' The brackish waler of ihc lake, boiled, is called wine by the pilgrims. 
 
 '--t 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 419 
 
 The tenth eve shone in solemn, starry beauty, 
 
 As he, rejoieing, o'cv the old paths came, 
 Light was his lieart iVom its accomplished duty. 
 
 All was ftM-.ij^ottcn, even the latest shame- 
 When these brief words some disembodied voice 
 
 Spoke near him : " Oh, keep sacred, evermore, 
 Word, pledge, and vow, so may you still rejoice. 
 
 And live among the Just when Time is o'er! " 
 
 sdge is 
 
 THE DAY OF ALL SOULS. 
 
 EI.IZA AI.Lr.N STARR. 
 
 le 
 
 th me," 
 
 2T. 
 
 II!" 
 shrine, 
 
 ) 
 
 ilgrims. 
 
 From the far past there comes a thought of sweetness. 
 From the far past a thought of love and pain ; 
 
 A voice, how dear ! a look of melting kindness, 
 A voice, a look, we ne'er shall know again. 
 
 A fresh, young face, perchance of boyish gladness, 
 An aged face, perchance of patient love ; 
 
 My heart-strings fail, I sob in utter anguish. 
 As past my eyes these lovely spectres move. 
 
 The chill morn breaks, the matin star still flaming; 
 
 The hushed cathedral's massive door stands wide ; 
 Through the dim aisles I pass, in silent wee^.^ng, 
 
 From mortal eyes my sorrowing tears to hide. 
 
 Already morn has touched the painted windows ; 
 
 The yellow dawn creeps down the storied panes ; 
 Already, in the early solemn twilight, 
 
 The sanctuary's taper softly wanes. 
 
 My faltering step before the altar pauses ; 
 
 My treasur'd dead I see remembered here ; 
 All climes, all nations, lost on land or ocean. 
 
 They on whose grave none ever drop a tear. 
 
420 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 Ii H 
 
 ft 
 
 The Church, their single mourner, drapes in sorrow 
 The festal shrines she loves with flowers to dress ; 
 
 And " Kyrie ! Kyrie ! " sighs, while lowly bending 
 To Thee, O God ! to shorten their distress. 
 
 ^^ Dies inc, dies ilia,''' sobs the choir; 
 
 "-In pace, pace,"' from the altar rises higher; 
 " Lux externa ; " daylight floods the altar, 
 Priest and choir take up the holy psalter. 
 *' Requicscant in pace ! " 
 Amen, amen, in pace ! 
 
 THE MESSAGE OF THE NOVEMBER WIND. 
 
 BY EI.'JANOR C. DONNELLY. 
 
 Wrapped in lonely shadows late, 
 
 (Bleak November's midnight gloom), 
 As I kneel beside the grate 
 
 In the silent sitting-room : 
 Down the chimney moans the wind, 
 Like the voice of souls resigned, 
 Pleading from their prison thus, 
 
 ** Pray for us ! pray for us ! 
 Gentle Christian, watcher kind, 
 
 Pray for us, oh ! pray for us ! " 
 
 II. 
 Melt mine eyes with sudden tears — 
 
 Old familiar tones are there ; 
 Dear ones lost in other years. 
 
 Breathing Purgatory's prayer. 
 Through my fingers pass the beads, 
 Tender heart, responsive bleeds, 
 As the wind, all tremulous, 
 
 " Pray for vis ! pray for us ! " 
 Seems to murmur ** Love our needs — 
 
 Pray for us ! oh, pray for us ! " 
 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 421 
 
 rrow 
 xss; 
 ing 
 
 A LEGEND OF THE TIME OF CHARLEMAGNE. 
 
 
 ND. 
 
 1), 
 
 We read in the Grs/a Caroli Ufagiii that CharlcmafT^ne 
 had a man-at-arms who served him faithfully till his 
 death. Before breathing his last he called a nephew of 
 his, to make known to him his last will : 
 
 " Sixty years," said he, '' have 1 been in the service of 
 my prince ; I have never amassed the goods of this 
 world, and my arms and my horse arc all I have. My 
 arms I leave to thee, and I will that my horse be sold im- 
 mediately after mv death; I charge thee with the care of 
 this matter, if thou wilt promise me to distribute the full 
 price amongst the poor." 
 
 The nephew promised to execute the will of his uncle, 
 who died in peace, for he was a good and loyal Christian. 
 But when he was laid in the earth the young man, con- 
 sidering that the horse was a very fine one, and well- 
 trained, was tempted to keep him for himself. lie did 
 not sell him, and gave no money to the poor. Six months 
 after, the soul of the dead man appeared to him and said : 
 '* Thou hast not accomplished that which I had ordered 
 thee to do for the welfare of my soul, and for six months 
 I have suffered great pains in Purgatory. But behold 
 God, the strict Judge of all things, has decreed, and His 
 angels will execute the decree, that my soul be placed in 
 eternal rest, and that thine shall undergo all the pains 
 and torments which I had still to undergo for the expia- 
 tion of my sins." 
 
 Thereupon the nephew, being instantly seized with a 
 violent disease, had barely time to confess to a priest, 
 who had just been announced. He died shortl}^ after, 
 and went to pay the debt he had undertaken to dis- 
 
 charge. 
 
 
422 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 THE DEAD MASS. 
 
 i .; 
 
 if ^ 
 
 1 : 
 
 It has been, and vStill is l)clicvcd, that the mcrcv of 
 God sometimes permits souls that have sins to expiate, to 
 come and expiate them on earth. Of tiiis tlie t'uUowing 
 is an example : 
 
 Polet, the principal suburb of Dieppe, is still inhabited 
 almost exclusively by fishermen, who, in past times, more 
 especially, have ever been solid and faithful Christians. 
 The Catholic worship was formerly celebrated with 
 much solemnity in their church, consecrated under the 
 invocation of "Our Lady of the Beach" (Notre Dame 
 des Greves) ; and the mothers of the worthy fishermen 
 who j^ive to Polet an aspect so picturesque, have forgot- 
 ten only the precise date of the adventure we arc about 
 to relate. 
 
 The sacristan of Notre Dame des Greves dwelt in a 
 little cottag-e quite close to the church. He was an exact 
 and pious man ; he had the keys of the sacred edifice and 
 the care of the bells. Several worthy priests were at- 
 tached to the lovely church ; the earliest Masses were 
 never rung except by the honest sacristan. Now, one 
 morning, during the Christmas holydays, he heard, be- 
 fore day, the tinkle of one of his bells announcing a Mass. 
 He rose immediately and ran to the window. The snow- 
 covered roofs enabled him to see objects so distinctly 
 that he thought the day was beginning to dawn. He 
 hastened to put on his clothes and go to the church. 
 1 he total solitude and silence reigning all around him 
 made him understand that he was mistaken and that day 
 was not yet breaking. He tried to go into the church, 
 however, but the door was closed. 
 
 How, then, could he have heard the bell ? If robbers 
 had got in, they would certainly have taken good care 
 not to touch the bell. He listens ; not the slightest 
 noise in the holy place. Should he return home ? Not 
 so, for having heard the bell, he must go in. 
 
3 mercy of 
 
 expiate, to 
 
 icjllowing 
 
 1 inhabited 
 imes, more 
 Christians, 
 atecl with 
 under the 
 'tre Dame 
 
 fishermen 
 
 ve forgot- 
 
 are about 
 
 ilwelt in a 
 s an exact 
 difiee and 
 were at- 
 sses were 
 Now, one 
 leard, be- 
 g a Mass. 
 "he snow- 
 distinctly 
 iwn. He 
 
 2 church. 
 )und him 
 
 that day 
 e church, 
 
 f robbers 
 
 ood care 
 
 sh'ghtest 
 
 le ? Not 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 433 
 
 He opens a little door leading into the sacristy; he 
 passes througli that, and advances towards the choir. 
 
 By the ligiit of llie small lamp burning before the 
 tabernacle and tliat of a taper already lighted, he per- 
 ceives, at the foot of the aUar, a priest robed in a elias- 
 uble, and in the attitude of a celebrant ai)out to com- 
 mence Mass. All is prei)ared for the Holy Sacrihce. 
 He stops in dismay. The priest, a stranger to him, is 
 extremely pale; his hands are as white as his alb; his 
 eyes shine like the glow-worm, the liglit going forth, as 
 it were, from the very centre of the orbits. 
 
 *' Serve my Mass," he said gently to the sacristan. 
 
 The latter obeyed, spell-bound with terror. But if tiie 
 pallor of the priest and the singular fire of his eves fright- 
 ened him, his voice, on the contrary, was mild and 
 melancholy. 
 
 The Mass goes on. At the elevation of the wSacred 
 Host tlie limbs of the priest tremble and give forth a 
 sound like that of dry reeds shaken by the wind. At the 
 Doniinc, non sum dig]ius, his breast, which he strikes three 
 times, sounds like the coffm when the first shovel-full of 
 earth is cast upon it by the grave-digger. The Precious 
 Blood produces in his whole body the effect of water 
 which, in the silence of the night, falls drop by drop from 
 the roof. 
 
 When he turns to say Ita Missa est, the priest is only a 
 skeleton, and that skeleton speaks these words to the 
 server : 
 
 " Brother, I thank thee ! .In my life-time, I was a 
 priest; I owed this Mass at my death. Thou hast helped 
 me to discharge my debt ; my soul is freed from a heavy 
 burden." 
 
 The spectre then disappeared. The sacristan saw the 
 vestments fall gently at the foot of the altar, and the 
 burning taper suddenly went out. At that moment, a 
 cock crowed somewhere in the neighborhood. The 
 sacristan took up the vestments, and passed the rest of 
 the night in prayer. 
 
I: 
 
 i 
 
 : 
 
 424 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 THE EVE OF ST. JOHN. 
 
 SIR WAI.l'ER Si-iJlT. 
 
 " O fi:ak not tlic priest who slccpcth to the cast ! ' 
 For to Dryburgh the way he has ta'cn ; 
 
 And there to say Mass, till tlirec days do ])ass, 
 For the soul ol a Knight that is slayne. " 
 
 He turned him round, and grimly he frowned ; 
 
 Then he laughed right scornfully — 
 " lie who says the JNIass-rite for the soul of that Knight, 
 
 May as well say Mass for me." 
 
 * 
 
 % 
 
 * 
 
 Then changed, I trow, was that bold baron's brow. 
 
 From dark to the blood-red high ; 
 " Now tell me the mien of the Knight thou hast seen, 
 
 For by Mary he shall die." 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 " hear but my word, my noble lord, 
 
 For I heard her name his name. 
 And that lady bright, she called the Knight 
 
 Sir Richard of Coldinghame." 
 
 The bold baron's brow then chang'd, I trow, 
 
 From high blood-red to pale — 
 " The grave is deep and dark— and the corpse is stiff and 
 stark — 
 
 So 1 may not trust thy tale. 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 " The varying ligh^ deceived thy sight. 
 
 And the wild winds drown'd the name. 
 For the Dryburgh bells ring, and the white monks do sing, 
 
 For Sir Richard of Coldinghame." 
 
 i;.^. J.'JU. L— ■*!■ ^I'l 
 
; cast ! ' 
 
 iss, 
 
 cd; 
 
 that Knigrht, 
 
 i brow, 
 last seen, 
 
 ^ is stiff and 
 
 LECENDARY AND rOETlCAL. 
 « 4V « « 
 
 4:^5 
 
 * 
 
 It was near the rin<^inj^- of matin-bell, 
 
 The nii^ht was well-nii^h done, 
 When the lady looked throu.i^ii the ehaniber lair, 
 
 On the eve of good St, John. 
 
 The lady looked thron^j^h the ehamber fair, 
 
 iiy the li<^ht of a dying ilame ; 
 And she was aware of a knii^ht stood there — 
 
 Sir Richard of Coldinghame. 
 
 ****** 
 
 " By Eildon-trcc for long- nights three. 
 
 In bloody grave have I lain, 
 The Mass and the death-prayer are said for me. 
 
 But, lady, they are said in vain. 
 
 " By the baron's hand, near Tweed's fair stand, 
 
 Most foully slain I fell ; 
 And my restless sprite on the beacon's height, 
 
 For a space is doom'd to dwell." 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 He laid his left palm on an oaken beam. 
 
 His right upon her hand ; 
 The lady shrunk, and fainting sunk, 
 
 For it scorched like a fiery brand. 
 
 iks do si 
 
 sing, 
 
f. 
 
 I, 
 
 r 
 i 
 
 426 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 THE REaUEST OF A SOUL IN PURGATORY. 
 
 [From " A Collcrtion of Spiritii.il Iljinns ami Son/^s on \';iri()iis Ri- 
 liiurious SiihjcctH," pul)lisliccl l)y Chalmers cS: Co., of Abi'rdccn, Scotland, in 
 1S02. Its (jnaint and touching simpliciiy, redolent of old-time faith, will 
 commend it to the reader.] 
 
 From lake wlicrc water does not go, 
 A prisoner of hope below, 
 To mortal ones 
 I push my <;roans, 
 
 In hopes they'll pity me. 
 
 mortals that still live above, 
 
 Your faith, hope, prayers, antl alms, and love, 
 Still merit plaee 
 With God's sweet p;race ; 
 O faithful, pity me. 
 
 My ferv^ent c^roans don't merit here. 
 Strict justice only doth ai)pear. 
 My smallest faults. 
 And needless talks 
 
 Heap chains and flames on me. 
 
 Thouj^h mortal jij^uilt doth not remain, 
 
 1 still am due the temp'ral pain, 
 I did delay 
 
 To satisfy. 
 
 Past coldness scorcheth me. 
 
 Tepidity and f]^ood works done 
 With imperfections mixt, here come ; 
 All these neg-lccts 
 And least defects. 
 
 Great anguish bring on me. 
 
ATORY. 
 
 on V'niioiis Rc- 
 
 •«-•". Sc()tl;ill(|, ill 
 
 "J-linic laiili, will 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETirAI-. 
 
 Thoufrh niv defects here he not sj)arccl, 
 Vet endless i^lorv lor me 's pre[)ared, 
 I love ill llaiiR'S, 
 And hope in chains ; 
 
 O IViends, ther., pity nic ! 
 
 My God, my Father, is most dear, 
 For me your siir^hs and prayers 1 ie'U hear; 
 Thoui^h just laws scourge, 
 His mercies urii^e, 
 That you would i)ity me. 
 
 427 
 
 md love, 
 
 Throup^h pains and flames Fll come to ITim, 
 They })ur<^e me both from stain and sin ; 
 When I'm set free, 
 Their friends Fll be 
 Who now do pity me. 
 
 The smallest thinj:^ that could dcfdc 
 Keeps me from bliss in this exile. 
 God loves to sec 
 That vou mc free ; 
 
 For His love pity me! 
 
 For mc who alms ^ivc, fast, or pray, 
 Great store of j^racc will come their way ; 
 By this <2;-ood thoug'ht 
 Great help is brou<^ht, 
 And souls from sin set free. 
 
 If you for mc now do not pray, 
 The utmost farthing 1 must pay ; 
 The time is hid 
 That Fll be rid, 
 
 Unless you pity me. 
 
428 rURGATORY. 
 
 In mortal sin who yields his breath, 
 Pray not for him behind his death. 
 AH mortal crime 
 I quit in time ; 
 
 O faithful, pity me ! 
 
 For me good works may be practised, 
 Thus some were for the dead baptized. 
 Such pains endure 
 For me, and sure 
 You'll help and pity me. 
 
 For his good friend, as Scriptures say, 
 Onesiphorus, Paul did pray,' 
 His words, you see, 
 Urge, then, for me ; 
 And thus you'll pity me. 
 
 This third place clear in writ you spy, 
 Where all your works the fire will try, 
 From death some rose. 
 Sure then all those 
 
 From third place were set free. 
 
 In hell there's no redemption found ; 
 God n?'er degrades whom He once crowned- 
 These judgments both 
 Confirmed by oath 
 And absolute decree. 
 
 For all the Saints prayer should be made, 
 Who stand in need, alive or dead. 
 I stand in need 
 That you with speed 
 Should help and pity me. 
 
 ' II. Tim., i. i6, i8. 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 429 
 
 ed. 
 
 
 rowned- 
 
 de, 
 
 In presence of our sweetest Lord, 
 For dead they prayed, as all accord. 
 Christ did not blame 
 What I now claim ; 
 
 Oh ! haste and pity me ! 
 
 To a third place Christ's soul did go, 
 And preached to spirits there below ; 
 This in the Creed 
 And Writ you read, 
 That you may pity me. 
 
 When Christ on earth would stay no more, 
 These captives freed He brought to glorc ; 
 There I will be. 
 And soon set free. 
 
 If you would pity me. 
 
 Mind, then, Communion of the Saints ; 
 All should supply each other's wants : 
 In pains and chains. 
 And scorching flames, 
 I languish ; pity me ! 
 
 Eternal rest, eternal glore, 
 Eternal light, eternal store, 
 To them accord, 
 O sweetest Lord ! 
 
 There's mercy still with Thee ! 
 
 Let mercy stay Thy just revenge. 
 Their scorching flames to glory change ; 
 The precious flood 
 Of Thine own blood 
 
 For them we offer Thee ! 
 
430 
 
 rURGArORY. 
 
 ■I 
 
 I 1 
 
 i 1 
 
 :i n 
 
 ALL SOULS. 
 
 BY MAKION MtJIR. 
 
 For all the cold and silent clay 
 
 That once, alive with youth and hope, 
 J^ushcd proudly to the western slope— 
 O brothers, pray ! 
 
 For all who saw the orient day 
 
 Rise on the plain, the camp, the flood. 
 The sudden discord drowned in blood- 
 O brothers, pray ! 
 
 For all the lives that ebbed away 
 In darkness down the gulf of tears ; 
 For all the gray departed years — 
 O brothers, pray ! 
 
 For all the souls that went astray 
 In deserts hung with double gloom ; 
 For all the dead without a tomb — 
 O brothers, pray ! 
 
 For we have household peace ; but they 
 Who led the way, and held the land. 
 Are homeless as the heaving sand — 
 Oh ! let us pray ! 
 
 iiiw^jiuaw 
 
),: r 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 431 
 
 THE DEAD. 
 
 {From the French of Octa-ce Crciuazic.) 
 
 ANNA T. SADLIER. 
 
 O DEAD, ye sleep within your tranquil j^^raves ; 
 No more ye bear the burden that enslaves 
 
 Us in this world of ours. 
 For you outshine no stars, no storms rave loud, 
 No buds has spring, the horizon no cloud, 
 
 The sun marks not the hours. 
 
 The while, with anxious thought oppress'd, we go, 
 Each weary day but bringing deeper woe. 
 
 Silently and alone 
 Ye list the sanctuary chant arise. 
 That downwards first to you, remounts the skies, 
 
 Sweet pity's monotone. 
 
 The vain delights whereto our souls incline, 
 v\re naught beside the prayer to love divine. 
 
 Alms-giving of the heart. 
 Which reaching to you warms your chilly dust 
 And brings your name enshrined a sacred trust. 
 
 Swift to the throne of God ! 
 
 Alas ! love's warmest memory will fade 
 Within the heart, ere yet the mourning shade 
 
 Has ceased to mark the garb. 
 Forgetfulncss, our meed to you, outweighs 
 The leaded coffin as it dully lays 
 
 Upon your lifeless bones. 
 
 Our selfish hearts but to the present look, 
 And see in you the pages of a book 
 
 Now laid aside long read. 
 For loving in our fev'rish joy or pain 
 But those who serve our hate, pride, love of gain, 
 
 No more can serve the dead. 
 
!i: 
 
 J i 
 
 432 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 To cold ambition or to joy's sweet store, 
 Ye dusty corpses minister no more, 
 
 VVe give to you neglect. 
 Nor reck we of that suff'ring world's pale bourne 
 Where you beyond the bridgeless barrier mourn 
 
 O'erpast the wall of death, 
 
 'Tis said that when our coldness grieves you sore, 
 Ye quit betimes that solitude's cold shore 
 
 Where ye forsaken dwell, 
 And flit about in darkness' sad constraint, 
 The while from spectral lips your mournful plaint 
 
 Upon the winds outswell. 
 
 ¥: 
 
 -V: 
 
 * 
 
 When nightingales their woodland nests have left. 
 The autumn sky of gray, white-capped, cloud-reft, 
 Prepares the shroud which Winter soon shall spread 
 On frozen fields ; there comes a day thrice blest. 
 When earth forgetting, all our musings rest 
 On those who are no more the dreamless dead. 
 
 The dead their graves forsake upon this day, 
 As we have seen doves mount with joyous grace. 
 Escape an instant from their prison drear, 
 Their coming brings us no repellent fear. 
 Their mien is dreamy, passing sweet their face, 
 Their fixed and hollow eyes cannot betray. 
 
 When spectral coming thus unseen they gaze 
 
 On crowds who, kneeling in the temple, pray 
 
 Forgiveness for them, one faint, joyful ray. 
 
 As light upon the opal, glittering plays, 
 
 On faces pale and calm an instant rests. 
 
 And brings a moment's warmth to clay-cold breasts. 
 
 They, the elect of God, with soids of saints. 
 Who bear each destined load without complaints. 
 
LEGENDARY AND I'OETICAL 
 
 433 
 
 bourne 
 iiourn 
 
 )u sore. 
 
 plaint 
 
 ■X- 
 
 ve left, 
 ud-reft, 
 ill spread 
 plcst, 
 
 ad. 
 
 Tace, 
 
 CO, 
 
 . 
 
 >reasts. 
 
 ints, 
 
 Who walk all day beneath God's watchinc^ eye, 
 And sleep the night 'neath angels' ministry, 
 Ncr made the sport of visions that arise 
 To show th' abyss of hre to dreaming eyes. 
 
 All they who while on earth, the pure of heart. 
 The heav'nly eehocs hear, and who in part 
 Make smooth for man rude ways he has to tread. 
 And knowing earthly vanity, outspread 
 Their virtue like a carpet rich and rare. 
 And walk o'er evil, touching it nowhere. 
 
 When come sad guests from off that suff'ring shore, 
 Which Dante saw in dream sublime of yore. 
 Appearing midst us here that day most blessed, 
 'Tis but to those ; for they alone have guessed 
 The secrets of the grave ; alone they understand 
 The pallid mendicants, who ask for heav'n. 
 
 Of Israel's King the psalms, inspired cries, 
 With Job's sublime distress, commingled rise ; 
 The sanctuary sobs them through the naves 
 While wak'ning subtle fear, the bell's deep toll 
 With fun'ral sounds, demanding pity's dole 
 For wand'ring gliosts, as countless as the waves. 
 
 Give on this day, when over all the earth 
 
 The Church to God makes moan for parted worth ; 
 
 Your own remorse, regret at least to calm 
 
 Awak'ning memory's dying flame, give balm, 
 
 Flow'rs for their graves, and prayer for each loved soul, 
 
 Those gifts divine can yet the dead console. 
 
 Pray for your friends, and for your mother pray. 
 
 Who made le.ss drear for you life's desert way, 
 
 For all the portions of your heart that lie 
 
 Shut in the tomb, alas, each youthful tie 
 
 Is lo' t within the coffin's close constraint, 
 
 \Vhere, prey of worms, the dead send up their plaint 
 

 1 
 
 434 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 For exiles far from home and native land, 
 
 Who dying hear no voice, nor touch no hand 
 
 In life alone, more lonely still in death. 
 
 Witli none for their repose, to breathe one prayer, 
 
 Cast alms of tears upon an alien grave. 
 
 Or heed the stranger lonely even there ; 
 
 For those v.- hose wounded souls when here below, 
 ]jut anxious thought and bitter fancies know, 
 With days all joyless, nights of dull unrest ; 
 For those who in nii^ht's calm find all so blest 
 And meet, in place of hope with morning beams, 
 A horrid v/ak'ning to their golden dreams ; 
 
 For all the pariahs of human kind 
 
 Who, heavy burdens bearing, find 
 
 How high the steeps of human woe they scale. 
 
 Oh, let your heart some off 'ring make to these, 
 
 One i)ious thought, one holy word of peace, 
 
 Which shall twixt them and God swift rend the veil. 
 
 The tribute bring of prayers and holy tears. 
 That when your hour draws nigh of nameless fears, 
 When reached their term shall be your mimbered days, 
 Your name made known above with grateful praise, 
 By those whose suff 'rings it was yours to end, 
 Arriving there find welcome as a friend ! 
 
 Your loving tribute, white-winged angels take, 
 
 Ere bearing it unto eternal spheres. 
 
 An instant lay it on the grass-grown graves. 
 
 While dying flow'rs in church-yards raise each head 
 
 To life, refreshed by breath of prayer, awake 
 
 And shed their fragrance on the sleeping dead. 
 
 
 I: 
 
[incl 
 
 e prayer, 
 
 e below, 
 ow, 
 t; 
 
 jlest 
 beams, 
 
 scale. 
 
 these, 
 
 ce, 
 
 nd the veil. 
 
 rs, 
 
 cless fears, 
 mbered days, 
 eful praise, 
 end, 
 
 ; take, 
 
 es, 
 
 3 each head 
 
 ake 
 
 dead. 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 435 
 
 A EEaUIEM. 
 
 SIR WALTER SCOTT. 
 
 No sound was made, no word was spoke, 
 
 Till noble Angus silence broke ; 
 
 And he a solemn sacred plight 
 
 Did to St. Bryde of Douglas make, 
 
 That he a pilgi iagc would take 
 
 To Melrose Abbey, for the sake 
 
 Of Michael's restless sprite. 
 Then eacli, to ease his troubled breast. 
 To some blessed saint his prayers addressed — 
 Some to St. Modan made their vows, 
 Some to St. Mary of the Lowes, 
 Some to the Holy Rood of Lisle, 
 Some to our Lady of the Isle ; 
 Each did his patron witness make, 
 That he such pilgrimage would take, 
 And monks should sing, and bells should toll. 
 All for the weal of Michael's soul, 
 While vows were ta'en, and prayers were prayed. 
 
 % 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 Most meet it were to mark the day 
 
 Of penitence and prayer divine. 
 When pilgrim-chiefs, in sad array. 
 
 Sought Melrose, holy shrine. 
 With naked foot, and sackcloth vest, 
 And arms enfolded on his breast, 
 
 Did every pilgrim go ; 
 The standers-by might hear uneath, 
 Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath. 
 
 Through all the lengthened row : 
 No lordly look, no martial stride. 
 Gone was their glory, sunk their pride, 
 
4j6 PURGATORY. 
 
 Forgotten their renown ; 
 Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide, 
 To the high altar's hallowed side. 
 
 And there they kneeled them down ; 
 Above the suppliant chieftains wave 
 The banners of departed brave ; 
 Beneath the lettered stones were laid 
 The ashes of their fathers dead ; 
 From many a garnished niche around. 
 Stern saint and tortured martyr frowned, 
 And slow up the dim aisle afar. 
 With sable cowl and scapular, 
 And snow-white stoles, in order due, 
 The holy Fathers, two and two, 
 
 In long procession came ; 
 Taper, and host, and book they bare. 
 And holy banner, flourished fair 
 
 With the Redeemer's name ; 
 Above the prostrate pilgrim band 
 The mitred Abbot stretched his hand, 
 
 And blessed them as they kneeled ; 
 With holy cross he signed them all, 
 * And prayed they might be sage in hall, 
 
 And fortunate in field. 
 
 The Mass was sung, and prayers were said. 
 And solemn requiem for the dead ; 
 And bells tolled out their mighty peal, 
 For the departed spirit's weal ; 
 And ever in the office close 
 The hymn of intercession rose ; 
 And far the echoing aisles prolong 
 The awful burthen of the song — 
 
 Dies Ircu, Dies Ilia, 
 
 Salve t ScBchiin in Favilla ; 
 While the pealing organ rung, 
 Thus the holy father sung : 
 
 .—1::^ 
 
LFXENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 437 
 
 :d, 
 
 HYMN FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 The day of wrath, that dreadful day, 
 When heaven and earth shall pass away, 
 What power sluiU be the sinner's stay? 
 How shall he meet that dreadful day ? 
 When, shri\'elling like a parched scroll, 
 The flaming heavens toi^ether roll ; 
 While louder yet, and yet more dread. 
 Swells the high trump that wakes the dead ; 
 O ! on that day, that wrathful day. 
 When man to judf^ment wakes from clay, 
 13c Thou the tremblinj^ sinner's stay, 
 Though heaven and earth shall pass away. 
 
 THE PENANCE OF ROBERT THE DEVIL. 
 
 said. 
 
 COLLIN DE TLANCY, 
 
 In Normandy, the most sinister associations still re- 
 main connected with the name of Robert the Devil. By 
 the people^ who change historical details, but yet pre- 
 serve the moral thereof, it is believed that Robert is un- 
 dergoing his penance here below, on the theatre of his 
 crimes, and that, after a thousand years, it is not yet 
 ended. Messrs. Taylor and Charles Nodier have men- 
 tioned this tradition in their " Voyage Pittorcsque de VAn- 
 ciainc France " (" Picturesque Journey through Old 
 France "). 
 
 "■ On the left shore of the Seine," say they, " not far from 
 Moulineaux, are seen the colossal ruins, which are said 
 to be the remains of the castle, or fortress, of Robert the 
 Devil. Vague recollections, a ballad, some shepherd's 
 tales — these arc all the chronicles of those imposing 
 ruins. Nevertheless, the fame of Robert the Devil's 
 doings still survives in the country which he inhabited. 
 His very name still excites that sentiment of fear which 
 ordinarily results only from recent impressions. 
 
« 
 
 •^ 
 
 43S 
 
 rURC.ATORY. 
 
 ** In the vicinity of the castle of Robert the Devil every 
 one knows his misdeeds, his violent conquests, and the 
 rii^^or of his penance. The cries of his victims still re- 
 echo throuL^h the vaults, and come to terrify himself in 
 his nocturnal wanderin<;s, for Robert is condemned to 
 visit the ruins and the dungeons of his castle. 
 
 " Sometimes, if the old traditions of the countr}' are to 
 be believed, I'lobert has been seen, still clad in the loose 
 tunic of a hermit, as on the day of his burial, wanderin<^ 
 in the neighborhood of his castle, and visiting, barefoot 
 and bareheaded, tlic little corner of the plain where the 
 cemeter}' must have been. Sometimes, a shepherd stray- 
 ing through the adjoining copse in search of his flock, 
 scattered by an evening storm, has been frightened by 
 the fearful aspect of the phantom, seen by the glare of 
 the lightning, flitting about amongst the graves. He has 
 heard him, in the pauses of the tempest, imploring the 
 pity of their mute inhabitants ; and on the morrow he 
 shunned the place in horror, because the earth, freshly 
 turned up, had opened on every side to terrify the mur- 
 derer." 
 
 But there is another tradition which we cannot omit. 
 
 A band of those Northmen who, during the troubled 
 reign of Charles III. of France — without any sufficient 
 reason called Charles the Simple — had invaded that part 
 of Neustria where Robert the Devil was born ; a group 
 of these fierce warriors were one evening warming them- 
 selves around a fire of brambles, and, joyous in a country 
 more genial than their own, they sang, to a wild melody, 
 the great deeds of their princes, when they saw, leaning 
 against the trunk of a tree, an old man poorly clad, and 
 of a sad, yet resigned aspect. They called to him as he 
 passed along before the fortress of Robert the Devil, 
 then only half ruined. 
 
 " Good man," said they, *' sing us some song of this 
 country." 
 
 The old man, advancing slowly, chanted in an humble 
 yet manly voice, the beautiful prose of St. Stephen. It 
 
i.E(ii:M)AKY ANU ror/ricAL. 
 
 439 
 
 c Devil every 
 ests, and the 
 :tims still re- 
 ify him self in 
 ondemncd to 
 e. 
 oiintry arc to 
 
 1 in the loose 
 \\, wandering 
 fini^, barefoot 
 in where the 
 :phcrd stray- 
 
 of his flock, 
 rightcncd by 
 
 the i^darc of 
 vcs. He has 
 nploring- the 
 
 2 morrow he 
 :arth, freshly 
 ify the mur- 
 
 :annot omit, 
 he troubled 
 ny sufficient 
 ed that part 
 rn ; a group 
 rming them- 
 in a country 
 'ild melody, 
 saw, leaning 
 ly clad, and 
 
 3 him as he 
 ; the Devil, 
 
 ong of this 
 
 an humble 
 tcphen. It 
 
 told how the first of (he martyrs paid homage till the 
 end to jcsus Christ, Our Lord ; antl how, expiring under 
 their blows, he besought Heaven to lorgive his imii- 
 derers. 
 
 Hut this hymn displeased the rude band, who l)egan 
 brutally to insult the old man. The latter fell on one 
 knee and uttered no complaint. 
 
 At this moment appeared a young man, before whom 
 all the soldiers rose to their feet. His lofty mien and his 
 tone of authority indicated the son oi' ^ mighty lord. 
 
 " Vou who insult a defenceless old man,'' said he, 
 "your conduct is base and covrardly. Away witli you ! 
 those who insult women or old men are unworthy to 
 march with the brave. For you, good old mim, come 
 and share my meal. It is for the chief to repair the 
 wrong-doings of those he commands." 
 
 " ^'oung man," said the stranger, " what you have just 
 done is pleasing to God, who loveth justice ; but it con- 
 cerneth not me, who can bear no ill-will to any one." 
 
 He then told his name ; related the hideous story of his 
 crimes, tlien his conversion through the prayers of his 
 mother, and his ])enance, which was to last yet a long 
 time. He showed how the grace of faith and of repent- 
 ance had entered into his heart. 
 
 " Exhausted with emotion," said he, " I sat down on a 
 stone amid some ruins; 1 slept. Oh! blessed be my 
 good angel for having sent me that sleep ! Scarcely liad 
 1 closed mine eves when 1 had a vision. It seemed to 
 me that the mountain on which rises the Castle of JNIou- 
 linets darted up to heaven and formed a staircase. Up 
 the steps went slowly a crowd of phantoms, in which 
 I, alas ! recognized my crimes. There were women 
 and young maidens, whose death was my doing, hard- 
 working vassals dishonored, old men driven from their 
 dwellings, and forced to ask tlie bread of charity. I saw 
 thus ascending not only men, but things, houses burned, 
 crops destroyed, flocks, the ho])e and the care of a whole 
 life of toil, sacrificed at a moment in some wild revel. 
 
^1 
 
 I 
 
 . 
 
 fr*" 
 
 440 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 And 1 saw an an;i^cl risini^ rai)i(ll3'. Then did my limbs 
 (juivcr like the leaves ol the aspen. 1 said to that aseend- 
 
 inir anjie 
 
 " ' Whither s^n)est thou? ' He answered : * 1 brinn^ thy 
 crimes before the Lord, that they may bear testimony 
 
 aiLains 
 
 ttl 
 
 lee. 
 
 ** Then all my members became as it were burninjjj 
 p^rass. ' gofxl ani^el!' I cried, 'could 1 not at least 
 eirace some of these imajj^es?* lie replied : ' All, if thou 
 wilt.' 'And how?' 'Confess them; the breath of thy 
 avowal will disperse them. Weep them in penance, and 
 thy tears will efface even the traces thereof.' " 
 
 The old man then told how he had made his confes- 
 sion, and what penance he did, wanderinp^ about in rau^s, 
 without other food than that which he shared with the 
 doi:^s. 
 
 " I had known," he added, " all the pleasures of the 
 earth, and had known some of its joys. But I found 
 them still more in the miseries, the life-Ion^ fatigue, the 
 hard humiliations of penance, because they were expi- 
 ating my faults. Thus, then, O strangers, whatever fate 
 Heaven may decree for you, if you desire happiness, find 
 Our Lord Jesus Christ, and practice His justice." 
 
 The old man was silent ; the barbarians remained mo- 
 tionless. He, however, taking the young chief by tiie 
 hand, led him to the esplanade of the castle, and showing 
 him all that vast country which is watered by the Seine : 
 " Young man," said he, '* for as much as thou hast pro- 
 tected a poor old man, God will reward the noble heart 
 within thee. Thou secst these lands so rich — they were 
 once mine ; and even now, after God, they have no other 
 lawful owner. I give them to thee ; make faith and 
 equity reign there. I will rejoice in thy reign." 
 
 Now this chief, to whom the penitent Robert thus be- 
 queathed his faith and his inheritance, was Rollo, first 
 Duke of the Normans. 
 
(lid my limbs 
 <) tliat asccnd- 
 
 : * 1 br'uv^ tliy 
 :ar testimony 
 
 were biirnininc 
 not at least 
 ' All, if thou 
 
 breatii of tliy 
 penance, and 
 
 Ic his confcs- 
 ibout in ra_L,^s, 
 ired with the 
 
 isurcs of the 
 But I found 
 r fatigue, the 
 y were expi- 
 vhatcver fate 
 ij^piness, find 
 tice." 
 
 L^mained mo- 
 chief by tlie 
 and showini^ 
 y the Seine : 
 )u hast pro- 
 noble heart 
 —they Avxre 
 ive no other 
 faith and 
 n." 
 
 ert thus bc- 
 Rollo, first 
 
 I.r.C.KNDARY AM) I'OKTICAI,. 
 
 ALL SOULS' EVE. 
 
 ^\ IIFRK the tombstones f^n-ay and browned, 
 And the broken roods around, 
 And the vesj)ers' solemn sound, 
 
 Told an old church near; 
 I vSat mc in the eve, 
 And I let my fancy weave 
 Such a vision as I leave 
 
 With a frail pen here. 
 
 Mcthought I heard a trai! 
 IJke to sl<)wly-fallin<j^ hail 
 And the sadly-plaintive wa'! 
 
 Of a misty file of ^ouls, 
 As they glided o'er the gras!-, 
 
 441 
 
 Si<rhin<jf low 
 
 Alas ' 
 
 alas. 
 
 How the laggard mon-YuS pass 
 In purgatorial doles ! " 
 
 Through their garments* glancin.;' sliccp, 
 As if nothing were betwr>;n, 
 Pierced the moon's benignant beam 
 
 To a grove of stunted [»incs: 
 In whose distant lightsome shade, 
 With their gilded coats arrayed, 
 Danced a fiiiry cavalcade, 
 
 To a fairy poet's rliymes. 
 
 Then a cloud obscured tac moon, 
 And the fairy danc:^ avid rune 
 Faded down bchtid the gloom 
 
 W aich along the upland fell, 
 And my cars could only hear, 
 In the church-yard lone and drear, * 
 The tinkle soft and clear 
 
 Of the morninir Mass's bell. 
 
T' 
 
 442 PURGATORY. 
 
 It eddied through the air, 
 And it seemed to eali to prayer 
 All tlie waiting spirits there 
 
 Which the moon's beams showed, 
 But each tinkle sank to die 
 In a heart-distressing sigh, 
 And no worshippers drew nigh 
 
 With the penitential word. 
 
 Mute as statue, on each knoll 
 Stood a thin, transparent soul, 
 While the fresh breeze stole 
 
 From its long night's rest, 
 Till it bore upon its tongue, 
 Like a snatch of sacred song. 
 All the peopled gr'^ ves among, 
 
 //i' Jlissa est ! 
 
 Then a cry, as Angels raise 
 
 In an ecstasy of praise. 
 
 When the Godhead's glowing rays 
 
 To their eager sight is given. 
 Shook the consecrated ground, 
 A.nd the souis it lost were found 
 From their venial sins unbound. 
 
 In the happy fields of heaven ! 
 
 Where the tombstones gray and browned. 
 And the broken roods around, 
 And the vespers' solemn sound, 
 
 Told an old church near ; 
 I sat me in the eve. 
 And I let my fancy weave 
 Such a vision as I leave 
 
 With a frail pen here. 
 
 1 ! 
 
LEGENDARY AND rOETICAL. 
 
 443 
 
 wed, 
 
 cd, 
 
 ELEVENTH MONTH, NOVEMBER 
 
 THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 COMMEMORATION OF ALL SOULS. 
 
 HARRIET M. SKIDMOKK, 
 
 O Faithful Church ! O tender mother-heart, 
 
 That, 'neath the shelter of thy deathless love, 
 
 Shieldest the blood-bought charge thy Master gave; 
 
 Laving the calm, iinfurrowed infant brow 
 
 With the pure wealth of Heaven's cleansing stream ; 
 
 Breathing above the sinner's grief-bowed head 
 
 The mystic words that loose the demon-spell, 
 
 And bid the leprous soul be clean again ; 
 
 Decking the u]-per chamber of the heart 
 
 For the blest banquet of the Lord of love ; 
 
 Binding upon the youthful warrior's breast 
 
 The buckler bright, the sacred shield of strength, 
 
 The fair, celestial gift of Pentecost, 
 
 Borne on the pinions of the holy Dove ! 
 
 vVnd when, at last, life's sunset hour is near. 
 
 And the worn pilgrim-leet stand trembling on 
 
 The shadowy borders of the death-dark vale, 
 
 At thy command the priestly hand bestows 
 
 The potent unction in the saving Name, 
 
 And gives unto the parched and pallid lip 
 
 The blest Viaticum, tlu- Bread of Life, 
 
 As staff and stay for tha.' drear pilgrimage ! 
 
 Thy prayers ascend, wit'i magic incense-breath. 
 
 From the lone couch, where, fainting by the way, 
 
 The frail companion of the deathless soul 
 
 Parteth in pain from its immortal guest. 
 
 And when, at last, the golden chain is loosed, 
 And through the shadows of that mystic vale 
 The ransomed captive floatcth swiftly forth. 
 
frrf 
 
 tt \ 
 
 I I 
 
 ! ) 
 
 444 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 In solemn tones thy Dc rrofuudis rings 
 
 O'er all the realms of vast eternity ; 
 
 Thy tender litanies eall gently clown 
 
 The angel-guides, the white-robed band of Saints, 
 
 To lead the wanderer to "the great White Throne," 
 
 To plead, with Heaven's own pitying tenderness, 
 
 For life and mercy at the judgment-seat. 
 
 The account is given, the saving sentence breathed, 
 
 Yet He who said that nought by sin defiled 
 
 Can take at once its blessed place amid 
 
 The spotless legion of His shining Saints, 
 
 Will find, upon the white baptismal robe. 
 
 Full many a blemish ; stains too lightly held, 
 
 Half-cleansed by an imperfect sorrow's flood. 
 
 " The Christian shall be saved, yet as by fire ; " 
 
 So, to the pain-fraught, purifying flame 
 
 The robe is given, till every blighting spot 
 
 Hath faded from its primal purity ; 
 
 Still, faithful Church, thy blest Communion binds 
 
 Each suffering child unto thy mother's heart. 
 
 Full well thou know'st the wondrous power of prayer- 
 
 That 'tis a holy and a wholesome thought 
 
 To plead for those who in the drear abode 
 
 Of penance linger, ** that they may be loosed 
 
 From all their sins ; " that on each spotless brow 
 
 Love's shining hand may place the starry crown. 
 
 And so the holy Sacrifice ascends, 
 
 A sweet oblation for that wailing band. 
 
 Thy regal form in mourning hues is draped. 
 
 Thy pleading Miserere ceaseth not 
 
 Till, at its blest entreaty, Love descends, 
 
 As erst, from His rent tomb, to Limbo's realm, 
 
 And leads again the freed, exultant throng. 
 
 Within the gleaming gates of gold and pearl. 
 
 To bask in fadeless splendor, where the flow 
 
 Of the "■ still waters " by the " pastures green" 
 
 Faints not, nor slackens, through the endless years. 
 
 O Ciiristians, brethren by that holv tic 
 
 ftsmmmm"''^ 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL 
 
 445 
 
 Saints, 
 Throne," 
 erness, 
 
 wreathed, 
 I 
 
 ^1, 
 d. 
 
 c;" 
 
 binds 
 t. 
 of praycr- 
 
 1 
 
 )row 
 
 own. 
 
 That links the living with the ransomed dead ! 
 Children of one foud mother are ye .ill, 
 V/hite-robed in heaven, militant on earth. 
 And sufferers 'mid the purifying flame. 
 O ye who tread the highway of our world, 
 Join now your voices -.v ith that mother's sigh ! 
 And while the mournful autumn wind laments, 
 And sad November's ceaseless tear-drops fall 
 Upon " the Silent City's " marble roofs, 
 O'er lonely graves amid the pathless wild. 
 Or where the wayworn pilgrim sank to rest 
 In some lone cavern by the crested sea — 
 List to the pleading wail that e'er ascends 
 From the dark land of suffering and woe : 
 *' Our footsteps trod your fair, sun-lighted paths, 
 Our voices mingled in your joyous songs. 
 Our tears were blended in one common grief; 
 Perchance our erring hearts' excessive love 
 For you, the v/orshipped idols of our lives, 
 Hath been the blemish on our bridal robes. 
 Plead for us, then, and let your potent prayer 
 Unlock the golden gates, that we who beat 
 Our eager wings against these prison bars, 
 May wing our flight to endless liberty ! " 
 
 
 m, 
 
 years. 
 
446 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 THE MEMORY OF THE DEAD. 
 
 FATHER FABER. 
 
 [This poem scared)' comes within the scope of the present work, yet it 
 is, by its nature, so closely connected therewith, and is, i^ioreover, so ex- 
 quisitely tender and pathetic, so beautiful in its mournful simplicity, that 1 
 decided on giving it a place amongst these funereal fragments.] 
 
 On ! it is sweet to think 
 
 Of those that are departed, 
 While murmured Aves sink 
 
 To silence tender-hearted — 
 While tears that have no pain 
 
 Are tranquilly distilling, 
 And the dead live again 
 
 In hearts that love is filling. 
 
 Yet not as in the days 
 
 Of earthly ties we love them ; 
 For they are touched with rays 
 
 From light that is above them ; 
 Another sweetness shines 
 
 Around their well-known features ; 
 God with His glory signs 
 
 His dearly-ransomed creatures. 
 
 Yes, they are more our own, 
 
 Since now they are God's only ; 
 And each one that has gone 
 
 Has left one heart less lonely. 
 He mourns not seasons fled, 
 
 Who now in Him possesses 
 Treasures of many dead 
 
 In their dear Lord's caresses. 
 
 Dear dead ! they have become 
 Like guardian angels to us ; 
 
^scnt work, yet it 
 i^iorcover, so ex- 
 simplicity, that I 
 2nts.] 
 
 res ; 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 And distant Heaven like home, 
 Through them begins to woo us ; 
 
 Love that was earthly, wings 
 Its flight to hoHer places ; 
 
 The dead are sacred things 
 That multiply our graces. 
 
 They whom we loved on earth 
 
 Attract us now to Heaven ; 
 Who shared our grief and mirth 
 
 Back to us now are given. 
 They move with noiseless foot 
 
 Gravely and sweetly round us, 
 And their soft touch hath cut 
 
 Full many a chain that bound us. 
 
 O dearest dead ! to Heaven 
 
 With grudging sighs we gave you ; 
 To Him — be doubts forgiven! 
 
 Who took you there to save you : — 
 Now get us grace to love 
 
 Your memories yet more kindly, 
 Pine for our homes above 
 
 And trust to God more blindly. 
 
 447 
 
448 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 «■ : 
 
 THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 WRITTEN FOR MUSIC liY THE AUTHOR OF "CHRISTIAN SCHOOLS AND 
 
 SCHOI.ARS." 
 
 O jMary, help of sorrowing hearts, 
 
 Look down with pitying eye 
 Where souls the spouses of thy Son, 
 
 In fiery torments lie; 
 Far from the presence of their Lord 
 
 The purging debt they pay. 
 In prisons through whose gloomy shades 
 
 There shines no cheering ray. 
 
 The fire of love is in their hearts, 
 
 Its flame burns fierce and keen ; 
 They languish for His Blessed Face, 
 
 For one brief moment seen ; 
 Prisoners of hope, their joy is there 
 
 To wait His Holy Will, 
 And, patient in tlie cleansing flames, 
 
 Their penance to fulfil. 
 
 But dark the gloom where smile of thine, 
 
 Sweet l>Iother, may not fall. 
 Oh, hear us, w^hen for these dear souls 
 
 Thy loving aid we call ! 
 Thou art the star whose gentle beam 
 
 Sheds joy upon the night. 
 Oh, let its shining pierce their gloom 
 
 And give them peace and light. 
 
 The sprinkling of the Precious Blood 
 
 From thy dear hand must come, 
 Quench with its drops their cruel flames, 
 
 And call them to their home ; 
 Freed from their pains, and safe with thee, 
 
 In Jesu's presence blest, 
 Oh, may the dead in Christ receive 
 
 Eternal light and rest ! 
 
SCHOOLS AND 
 
 hades 
 
 thine, 
 
 Ills 
 
 111 
 
 111 
 
 )d 
 
 ames, 
 :h thee, 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 449 
 
 THE PALMERS ROSARY. 
 
 EMZ.V AIJ.r.N SIAUK. 
 
 No coral beads on costly chain of c^old 
 The I\almcr's pious lips at Vespers told ; 
 No guards of art could F'ilgrim's favor win, 
 Who only craved release from earth and sin. 
 He from the Holy Land his rosary brought ; 
 From sacred olive wood each bead was wrought, 
 Whose grain was nurtured, ages long ago, 
 By blood the Saviour sweated in His woe ; 
 Then on the Holy Sepulchre was laid 
 This crown of /oscs from His passion made; 
 The Sepulchre from which the Lord of all 
 Arose from death's dark bed and icy thrall. 
 
 Yet not complete that wreath of joy and pain, 
 Which for the dead must sweet indulgence gain ; 
 The pendant cross, on which with guileless art, 
 wSome hand had graved what touches every heart, 
 The image of the Lamb for sinners slain, 
 From Bethlehem's crib, now shrine, his prayers obtain ; 
 And tears and kisses tell the holy tale . , • 
 Of pilgrim love and penitential wail. 
 
 The love, the tears, which fed his pious flame, 
 
 May well be thine, my heart, in very same ; 
 
 Since bead and cross, by Palmer prized so well, 
 
 At vesper-hour, these fingers softly tell, 
 
 And press, through them, each dear and sacred spot 
 
 Where God once walked, " yet men received Him not." 
 
 And still, with pious Palmer gray, of yore. 
 
 Thy lips can kiss the ground He wet with gore, 
 
 Still at the Sepulchre with her delay, 
 
 Who found Him risen ere the break of day ; 
 
-... ,.-..^.1 .^.y^ 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 And hover round the crib with meek dehght 
 Where shepherds hasted from their flocks by night, 
 To there adore Him whom a Virgin blessed, 
 Bore in her arms and nourished at her breast. 
 
 My Rosary dear! my Bethlehem Cross so fair ! 
 No rose, no lily can with thee compare ; 
 No gems, no gold, no art, or quaint device 
 Could be my precious Rosary's priceless price ; 
 For Heaven's eternal joys at holier speed, 
 I trust to win through every sacred bead ; 
 And still for suffering souls obtain release 
 From cleansing hres to everlasting peace. 
 
 A LYKE WAKE DIRGE. 
 
 [From Sir Walter Scott's " Minstrelsy of the Border," we take this frag- 
 ment. The dirge to \vhicli the eminent author aliiules in a before-quoted 
 extract from his woric, and which he erroneously styles "a charm," is here 
 given in full. The reader will observe that it partakes not the least of the 
 nature of a charm. It would seem to have some analogy with the " Keen," 
 or Wail of the Irish peasantry.] 
 
 This ae nighte, this ae nighte, 
 
 Ever}^ nighte and alle ; 
 Fire and sleet, and candle lighte, 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 When thou from hence away are paste. 
 
 Every nighte and alle ; 
 To Whinny-muir thou comest at laste ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 If ever thou gavcst hoscn and shoon ; 
 
 Every nighte and alle ; 
 Sit thee down and put them on ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gavcst nanc, 
 
 Every nij^litc and alle, 
 The whinnes shall pricke thee to the bare bane ; 
 
 And Ciiriste receive th}'e saule. 
 
 From Whinny-muir, when tiiou niaycst passe, 
 
 Every nighte and alle; 
 To Brig o' Dread thou comcst at lastc ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 From Brii^ o' Dread when thou mayest passe, 
 
 Every nighte and alle ; 
 To Purgatory fire thou comest at laste ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 If ever thou gavest meat or drink, 
 
 Every nighte and alle. 
 The fire shall never make thee shrinkc ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 If meat or drink thou never gavest nane, 
 
 Every nighte and alle ; 
 The fire will burn thee to the bare bane ; 
 
 And Christe receive thye saule. 
 
 This ac nighte, this ae nighte, 
 
 Every nighte and alle ; 
 Fire and sleet, and candle lighte. 
 
 And Christe receive th}^ saule. 
 
 451 
 
452 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 ALL SOULS' DAY. 
 
 SECOND VESPERS OF ALL SAINTS. 
 
 From " Lyra Lituryjca" 
 
 What means this veil of g'loom 
 
 Drawn o'er the festive scene ; 
 
 Tlie solemn records of ihe tomb 
 
 Where holy mirth hath been: 
 
 As if some messeni^er of death should fling 
 
 His talc of woe athwart some nuptial gathering? 
 
 Our homage hath been given 
 
 With gladsome voice to them 
 Who fought, and won, and wear in heaven 
 Christ's robe and diadem ; 
 Now to the suffering Church we must descend, 
 Our " prisoners of hope " with succor to befriend. 
 
 They will not strive nor cry, 
 
 Nor make their pleading known ; 
 Meekly and patiently they lie, 
 Speaking with God alone ; 
 And this the burden of their voiceless song, 
 Wafted from age to age, " I lov/ long, O Lord, how long ? " 
 
 O blessed cleansing pain ! 
 
 Who would not bear thy load, 
 Where every throb expels a stain, 
 And draws us nearer God ? 
 Faith's firm assurance makes all anguish light. 
 With earth behind, and heaven fast opening on the sight. 
 
 Yet souls that nearest come 
 
 To their predestin'd gain, 
 Pant more and more to reach their home : 
 
 Delay is keenest pain 
 
s. 
 
 LEGENDARY AM) rOKTICAI.. 
 
 cring? 
 
 icavcn 
 
 cend, 
 : friend. 
 
 'd, how long? 
 
 
 or on the slight. 
 
 lonie: 
 
 453 
 
 To tliose that all but touch tlie wish'd lor shore, 
 Where sin, and griel' that conies ot" sin, shall Iret no more. 
 
 And O— () charity, 
 
 For sweet remembrance sake, 
 These souls, to God so very nii;h, 
 into your keeping take! 
 Sjieed them by sacrifice and suflVage, where 
 They burn to pour lor you a more prevailing prayer. 
 
 They were our friends ercwhile, 
 
 Co-heirs of saving grace ; 
 Co-partners of our daily toil, 
 Companions in our race ; 
 We took sweet counsel in the house of God, 
 And sought a common rest along a common road. 
 
 And had their brethren car'd 
 
 To keep them just and pure, 
 Perchance their pitying God had spar'd 
 The pains they now endure. 
 What if to fault of ours those pains be due, 
 To ill example shown, or lack of counsel true? 
 
 Alas, there are who weep 
 
 In fierce, unending flame, 
 Through sin of those on earth that sleep, 
 Reirardless of their shame ; 
 Or who, though they repent, too sadly know 
 No help of theirs can cure or soothe their victim's woe. 
 
 Thanks to our God who gives, 
 
 In fruitful Mass or prayer, 
 To many a friend that dies, yet lives, 
 A salutary share ; 
 Nor stints our love, though cords of sense be riven. 
 Nor bans from hope the soul that is not ripe for heaven. 
 
454 
 
 rURGATOUY. 
 
 Feast of the Holy Dead ! 
 Gi'eat Jubilee olj^race! 
 When ani^el f^uanis exiiitini;- lead 
 To their predestinM plaee 
 Souls, that the Church shall loose from bonds to-day 
 In every clime that basks beneath her genial sway. 
 
 THE SUF5'ERING SOULS. 
 
 liv r.. M. V. iu'i.(;kk. 
 It is a lioly and wholesome tliouglit to pray for the dead. — II Mac. xii. 46. 
 
 In some quiet hour at the close of day, 
 When your work is fmished and laid away, 
 Think of the suffering- souls, and pray. 
 
 Think of that prison of anguish and pain, 
 Where even the souls of the Saints remain, 
 Till cleansed by fire from the slightest stain. 
 
 Think of the souls who were dear to yon 
 When this life held them ; still be true, 
 And pray for them now ; it is all you can do. 
 
 Think of the souls who arc lonely there, 
 With no one, perchance, to offer a prayer 
 That God may have pity on them and spare. 
 
 Think of the souls that have longest lain 
 In that place of exile and of pain, 
 Suffering still for some uncleansed stain. 
 
 Think of the souls who, perchance, may be 
 On the very threshold of liberty — 
 One " Ave Maria " may set them free ! 
 
»d.— II Mac. xii. 46. 
 
 LEGENDARY ANH POiynCAI,. 
 
 Oil, tlicMi, at the close of each passiiiLi: (lav, 
 When your work is tinisliecl aiul loUled away, 
 Tliiiik of the siilTeriii^ souls, and pray I 
 
 Tiiink of their prison, so dark and dim. 
 Think of their loni^iui^ to he wilii llini 
 Whose praises are suni; by tiie cherid)iin ! 
 
 >! ■* ^ 
 
 As you tell the beads of your Rosary, 
 
 Ask Ciod's s\ve:.>t Mother their mother to be ; 
 
 Her immaculate liands hold Heaven's key. 
 
 Oh, how many souls arc sufierin*;' when 
 Vou whis|)er " Hail Mary" a,<j;-ain and a<j^ain. 
 May sec God's face as you say ".]///<■;/ / " 
 
 — Ave Maria, November 24, 1883. 
 
 I fl 
 
 THE VOICES OF THE DEAD. 
 
 'TWAS the hour after sunset. 
 
 And the <i^olden lii^ht had ])aled; 
 The heavy foliage of the woods 
 
 Were all in sliadow veiled. 
 
 Vet a witchery breathed throui^h the soft twilight, 
 
 A thoui^ht of the sun that was set, 
 And a soft and mystic radiance 
 
 Through the heavens hung lingering yet. 
 
 The purple hills stood clear and dark 
 
 Against the western sky, 
 And the wind came sweeping o'er the grass 
 
 With a wild and mournful cry : 
 
 It swept among the grass that grows 
 
 Above the quiet grave, 
 And stirred the boughs of the linden-trees 
 
 That o'er the church-yard wave. 
 
PURGATORY. 
 
 
 And the low murmur of the leaves 
 
 All softly seemed to say, 
 " It is a '^ood and wholesome thought 
 
 For the dead in Christ to pray." 
 
 Earth's voices all are low and dim ; 
 
 But a human heart is there, 
 With psalms and words of holy Church, 
 
 To join in Nature's prayer. 
 
 A Monk is pacing up and down ; 
 
 His prayers like incense rise ; 
 Ever a sweet, sad charm for him 
 
 Within that church-yard lies. 
 
 Each morning when from iNIary's tower 
 
 The sweet-toned yivf rings, 
 This herdsman of the holy dead 
 
 A Mass of Requiem sings. 
 
 And when upon tlie earth there falls 
 
 The hush of eventide, 
 A dirge he murmurs o'er the graves 
 
 Where they slumber side by side. 
 
 ** Eternal light shine o'er them, Lord ! 
 
 And may they rest in peace ! " * 
 His matins all are tinished now, 
 
 And his whispered accents cease. 
 
 But, hark ! what sound is that which breaks 
 
 The stillness of the hour ? 
 Is it the ivy as it creeps 
 
 Against the gray church tower? 
 
 Is it the sound of the wandering breeze, 
 
 Or the rustling of the grass. 
 Or the stooping vv'ing of the evening birds 
 
 As home to their nests they pass ? 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 457 
 
 ch, 
 
 ^er 
 
 i 
 
 breaks 
 
 ezc, 
 birds 
 
 No ; 'tis a voice like one in dreams, 
 
 Half solemn and half sad, 
 Freed from the weariness of earth, 
 
 Not yet with glory clad ; 
 
 Full of the yearning tenderness 
 Which nought but suffering gives ; 
 
 Too sad for angcl-toncs — too full 
 Of rest for aught that lives. 
 
 They are the Voices of the Dead 
 
 From the graves that lie around, 
 And the Monk's heart swells within his breast, 
 
 As he listens to the sound. 
 
 " Amen ! Amen! " the answer comes 
 
 Unto his muttered prayer ; 
 *' Amen ! " as though the brethren all 
 
 In choir were standing there. 
 
 The living and departed ones 
 
 On earth are joined again, 
 And the bar that shuts them from his ken 
 
 For a moment parts in twain. 
 
 Over the gulf that yawns beneath. 
 
 Their echoed thanks he hears 
 For the Masses he has offered up, 
 
 For his orisons and tears. 
 
 And as the strange responsory 
 
 Mounts from the church-yard sod, 
 
 Their mingled prayers and answers rise 
 Unto the throne of God.' 
 
 —M. R., in ''The Lamp,'' Oct. 31, 1863. 
 
 ' There is a story recorded of St. Rirstan, Bishop of Wincliestcr, who 
 died about the year of Chiist 944, how ho was wont every day to say Mass 
 and Matins for tlic dead ; and one eveninc:, as he walked in the church- 
 yard, recitinq; liis said Matins, when lie came lo the Rcqiticscnt in Pace, the 
 voices in the ^r-ives round about him made answer aloud, and said," Amen, 
 Amen ! " — fiom the " Eu^iiih Mar/yivlo^y'' for October i2. 
 
458 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 m >' 
 
 THE CONVENT CEMETERY. 
 
 Ri:V. A13RAM J. RYAN. 
 
 [I'liis is an extract fioiu Father Ryan's poem, " Their Slor\' Runneth 
 Thus."] 
 
 And years and years, and weary years passed on 
 Into the past ; one autumn afternoon, 
 When flowers were in their aj^ony of death. 
 And winds sang " ZV Profundis " o'er them, 
 And skies were sad with shadows, he did walk 
 Where, in a resting-plaee as calm as sweet. 
 The dead were lying down ; the autumn sun 
 Was half-way down the west — the hour was three, 
 The holiest hour of all the twenty-four, 
 For Jesus leaned His head on it, and died, 
 lie walked alone amid the Virgins' graves. 
 Where calm they slept — a convent stood near by, 
 And from the solitary cells of nuns 
 Unto the cells of death the way was short. 
 
 Low, simple stones and white watched o'er each grave, 
 
 While in the hollows 'twixt them sweet flowers grew, 
 
 Entwining grave with grave. He read the names 
 
 luigraven on the stones, and " Rest in peace " 
 
 Was written 'ncath them all, and o'er each name 
 
 A cross was graven on the lowly stone. 
 
 He jDassed each grave with reverential awe, 
 
 As if he passed an altar, where the Host 
 
 Had left a memory of its sacrifice. 
 
 And o'er the buried virgin's virgin dust 
 
 He walked as prayerfidlv as though he trod 
 
 The holy floor of fair Lorctto's shrine. 
 
 He passed from grave to grave, and read the names 
 
 Of those whose own pure lips had changed the names 
 
 By which this world iiad known them into names 
 
 Of sacrihce known only to their God ; 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 Slorv Runneth 
 
 on 
 
 ik 
 
 three, 
 
 ir by, 
 
 ■ach i^^rave, 
 crs grew, 
 names 
 
 a me 
 
 |c names 
 he names 
 lames 
 
 459 
 
 Veiling their faces they had veiled their names. 
 
 The very ones who played with them as girls, 
 
 Had they passed there, would know no more than he. 
 
 Or any stranger, where their playmates slept. 
 
 And then he wondered all about their lives, their liearLs, 
 
 Their thoughts, their feelings, and their dreams. 
 
 Their joys and sorrows, and their smiles and tears. 
 
 He wondered at the stories that were hid 
 
 Forever down within those simple graves. 
 
 ONE HOUE AFTER DEATH. 
 
 EMZA ALLEN SI ARK. 
 
 Oh ! I could envy thee thy solemn slee]), 
 Thy sealed lid, thy rosary-folding palm, 
 
 Thy brow, scarce cold, whose wasted outlines keep 
 The '■'■ Bona Mots'" sublime, unfathomcd calm. 
 
 I sigh to wear myself that burial robe 
 
 Anointed hands have blessed with pious care : 
 
 What nuptial garb on all this mortal globe 
 
 Could with thy habit's peaceful brown compare.'* 
 
 Beneath its hallowed folds thy iccblc dust 
 Shall rest serenely through the night of time ; 
 
 Unharmed by worm, or damp, or century's rust. 
 But, fresh as youth, shall greet th' eternal prime 
 
 Of that clear morn, before whose faintest ray 
 Earth's bliss will pale, a taper's flickering gleam ; 
 
 I see it break ! the pure, celestial day, 
 And stars of mortal hope already dim. 
 
 ^^ In pace," Lord, oh! let her sweetly rest 
 In Paradise, this very day with Thee: 
 
 Her faithful lips her dying Lord confessed, 
 Then let her soul Thy risen glory see! 
 
460 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 A PRAYER FOR THE DEAD. 
 
 T. D. McGt;!':. 
 
 IK'I 
 
 (I 
 
 Let us pray for the dead ! 
 For sister and mother, 
 Father and brother, 
 For clansman and fosterer. 
 And all who have loved us here ; 
 For pastors, for neighbors, 
 At rest from their labors ; 
 Let us pray for our own beloved dead ! 
 That their souls may be swiftly sped 
 Through the valley of purgatorial fire, 
 To a heavenly home by the gate called Desire ! 
 
 I see them cleave the awful air, 
 
 Their dun wings fringed with flame ; 
 
 They hear, they hear our helping prayer, 
 They call on Jesu's name. 
 
 Let us pray for the dead ! 
 
 For our foes who have died, 
 
 May they be justified! 
 
 For the stranger whose eyes 
 
 Closed on cold alien skies ; 
 
 For the sailors who perished 
 
 By the frail ai ts they cherished ; 
 Let us pray for the unknown dead. 
 
 Father in heaven, to Thee we turn, 
 Transfer tlieir debt to us ; 
 
 Oh ! bid their souls no longer burn 
 In mediate anguish thus. 
 
L 
 
 ire, 
 
 led Desire! 
 
 lie ; 
 ayer, 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 46 1 
 
 Let US pray for the soldiers, 
 
 On w hatever side slain ; 
 
 Whose white bones on the plain 
 
 Lay iniclaimed and unfathered, 
 
 By the vortex-wind feathered, 
 Let us pray for the valiant dead. 
 
 Oh ! pity the soldier, 
 
 Kind Father in heaven, 
 Whose body doth moulder 
 
 Where his soul fled self-shriven. 
 
 We have prayed for the dead ; 
 
 All the faithful departed, 
 
 Who to Christ were true-hearted ; 
 
 And our prayers shall be heard, 
 
 For so promised the Lord ; 
 
 And their spirits shall go 
 
 Forth from limbo-like woe — 
 And joyfully swift the justified dead 
 Shall feel their unbound pinions sped, 
 Through the valley of purgatorial fire. 
 To their heavenly home by the gate called Desire. 
 
 By the gate called Desire 
 
 In clouds they've ascended — 
 O Saints, pray for us. 
 
 Now your sorrows are ended! 
 
462 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 THE DE PROFUNDIS BELL.' 
 
 IIARRIIiT M. SKIDMORK. 
 
 I' 'V 
 
 The day was dead ; from purple summits faded 
 
 Its last resplendent ray, 
 And softly slept the wearied earth, o'crshaded 
 
 By twilight's dreamy gray ; 
 Then flowed deep sound-waves o'er silence holy 
 
 Of nature's calm repose, 
 As from its lofty dome, outpealing slowly 
 
 Through the still gloaming, rose 
 The deep and dirge-like swell 
 Of Dc Profiindis bell. 
 
 To heedful hearts each solemn cadence falling 
 
 Through twilight's misty veil. 
 An echo seemed of spirit-voices calling 
 
 With sad, beseeching wail; 
 And thus outspakc the mournful intonation : 
 
 " Plead for us, brethren, plead ! " 
 From the drear depths of woe and desolation 
 
 Our cry of bitter need 
 
 Floats upward in the swell 
 Of Dc Profundis bell. 
 
 ' Among the many beautiful and pious customs of Catholic countries, 
 none appeals with more tender earnestness to the pityini^ licart than that 
 of tlie De Profundis bell. While the shades of night are gathering o\-er the 
 earth, a solemn, dirge like tolling resounds from ihe lotty church *o\vers. 
 Instantly every knee is bent, and countless voices, in city and hamlet, from 
 castle and cottage, repeat, vv'ith heartfelt earnestness, tlie beautiful psalm, 
 'Dc Profundis" or, " Out of the depths," clc, for tlie souls of the faith*"):) 
 departed. Thus is illustrated, in a most touching manner, the blr"-scd 
 doctrine of the Communion of Saints. Thus does the Cluirch Militant 
 clasp, each day anew, the holy tie which binds her to the sufTering Church 
 of Purgation. 
 
 The compassionate heart of the Christian is stirred to its inmost depths 
 by the plaintive call of that warning bell ; and as, in the holy hush of night- 
 fall, he obeys its tender appeal, how fully does he realize that " it is a holy 
 and wholesome thought to pray for the dead," 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 4<53 
 
 dcd 
 
 )d 
 
 loly 
 
 Then bowed each knee, the plaintive summons heeding, 
 
 And rose the blended sigli. 
 As incense-breath of iond, united pleading' 
 
 E'en to the throne on high : 
 "Hear, Lord, the cry of fervent su])pHcati()n 
 
 Earth's children lift to Thee ; 
 And from the depths of long and dread purgation 
 
 Thy faithful captives free, 
 
 Ere dies on earth the swell 
 Oi Dc Profundis bell. 
 
 g 
 
 alic countries, 
 cart tlian that 
 
 ling over the 
 hurch *o\vcrs. 
 \ hanilc't, from 
 auliful psalm, 
 of the faith'"':) 
 r, tlie blp'-scd 
 
 urch Militant 
 Icring Church 
 
 inmost depths 
 hush of night- 
 t " it is a holy 
 
 *' If, in Thy sight, scarce e'en the perfect whiteness 
 
 Of seraph-robe is pure, 
 Shall mortals brave Thine eye's eternal brightness? 
 
 Shall man its search endure ? 
 Ah ! trusting hope may meet the dazzling splendor 
 
 Of those celestial rays, 
 For with Thee, Lord, is pardon sweet and tender. 
 
 When contrite sorrow prays. 
 Ay, Thou wilt lead, from desert-waste of sadness, 
 
 Thine Israel's chosen band ; 
 And Miriam's song of pure, triumphant gladness 
 
 Shall, in Thy promised land, 
 Succeed the dirge-like swell 
 OiDc ProfundisheiXr 
 
■MriM 
 
 i i 
 
 ! 
 
 j 
 
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 1 
 
 464 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 NOVEMBER. 
 
 ANNA T. SAIJI.IKK. 
 
 Robed in mourninij^, nave and chancel, 
 
 In the livery of the dead, 
 Hymns funereal are chanted. 
 
 Services sublime are read. 
 
 Sounds the solemn Dies Inc, 
 
 Fraught with echoes from the day 
 
 When the majesty of Heaven 
 Shall appear in dread array. 
 
 Next the Gospel's weird recital, 
 Full of mystery and dread ; 
 
 Holdinr^ message for the living, 
 Bringing tidings of the dead. 
 
 With its resurrection promised — 
 
 Resurrection unto life, 
 With its full and true fruition, 
 
 And immunity from strife. 
 
 Blest immunity from sorrow, 
 Primal man's unhappy dower ; 
 
 While the evil shall find judgment 
 In the resurrection hour. 
 
 To the Lord, the King of Glory, 
 Goes the voiceless, tuneless prayer. 
 
 From the deep pit to deliver. 
 From eternal pains to spare. 
 
 All who wait the holy coming. 
 
 Wait the dawning of a day 
 That shall ope the gates of darkness. 
 
 Shall illume the watcher's way. 
 
LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 465 
 
 May the holy Michael lead them 
 To tlie fullness of the li<^ht 
 
 That of old, in prophet visions, 
 Burst on Adam's dazzled si<;ht. 
 
 May they pass from death to living — 
 Message that the Master's voice 
 
 Gave to Abraham the faithful, 
 Bade his exiled soul rejoice. 
 
 May perpetual light descending 
 
 Touch their foreheads, dark with fear 
 
 Dark with deadly torments suffered ; 
 Sign them with the glory near ! 
 
 May they rest, () Lord, forever 
 In a peace that, unexpressed, 
 
 Shall bestow upon the pilgrims 
 Dual crowns of light and rest ! 
 
 Death's weird canticle is ringing 
 
 In its supplication strong — 
 In its far cry to the heavens. 
 
 Couched in wild, unearthly song. 
 
 Ay, this Libera o'ercomes us, 
 Requiem, at once, and dirge — 
 
 Makes this life with life immortal 
 In our consciousness to merge. 
 
466 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 FOR THE SOULS IN PURGATORY. 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 Vk souls of tlic faithful wlio sleep in the Lord, 
 But as yet cue shut out froiu your final reward, 
 Oh! would I could lend you assistance to fly 
 From your prison below to your palace on high ! 
 
 O Father of Mercies ! Thine anger withhold, 
 These works of Thy hand in Thy mercy behold ; 
 Too oft from Thy path they have wandered aside, 
 But Thee, their Creator, they never denied. 
 
 O tender Redeemer, their misery see. 
 Deliver the souls that were ransomed by Thee ; 
 Behold how they love Thee, despite all their pain; 
 Restore them, restore them to favor again ! 
 
 O Spirit of Grace! O Consoler divine ! 
 
 See how for Thy presence they longingly pine ; 
 
 Ah ! then, to enliven their sadness descend, 
 
 And fill them with peace and with joy in the end ! 
 
 O Mother of Mercy ! dear soother in grief! 
 Send thou to their torments a balmy relief; 
 Oh ! temper the rigor of justice severe, 
 And soften their flames with a pitying tear. 
 
 Ye Patrons, who watched o'er their safety below. 
 Oh ! think how they need your fidelity now ; 
 And stir all the Angels and Saints in the sky 
 To plead for the souls that upon you rely ! 
 
 Ye friends, who once sharing their pleasure and pain, 
 Now hap'ly already in Paradise reign. 
 Oh ! comfort their hearts with a whisper of love. 
 And call them to share in your pleasures above ! 
 
I.KGENDARV AND POKTICAL. 
 
 467 
 
 O Fountain of Goodness! accept of our si^fhs ; 
 Let Tliy mercy bestow what Thy justice denies; 
 So may Thy poor captives, released from their woes, 
 Thy praises i)rochiini, while eternity Hows! 
 
 All ye udio would honor the Saints and their Head, 
 Remember, remember to pray for the dead — 
 And they, in return, from their misery freed, 
 To you will be friends in tlie lunir of your need I 
 
 — Garland of Floivcrs. 
 
 ;low, 
 
 ALL SOULS' EVE. 
 
 'TwAS All Souls' \l\Q\ the liirhts in Notre Dame 
 
 Blazed round the altar; i^^loomy, in the midst. 
 
 The pall, with all its sable han^inu^s, stood ; 
 
 With torch and taper, priests were rammed around, 
 
 Chantiui^ the solemn requiem of the dead ; 
 
 And then along the aisles the distant lii^hts 
 
 Moved slowly, two by two; the chapels shone 
 
 Lit as they pass'd in momentary u^larc ; 
 
 Behind the fretted choir the yellow ray, 
 
 On cither hand the altar, blazini^ fell. 
 
 She thought upon the multitude of souls 
 
 Dwelling so near and yet so separate. 
 
 With dawn she sought Saint Jacques ; the altars there 
 
 Had each its })ricst ; the black and solemn Mass, 
 
 The nodding feathers of the catafalque. 
 
 The flaring torches, and the funeral chant. 
 
 And intercessions for the countless souls 
 
 In Purgatory still. With pity new 
 
 The Pilgrim pray'd for the departed. Long 
 
 She knelt before the Blessed Sacrament, 
 
 Beside Our Lady's altar. Pictured there. 
 
 She saw, imprisoned in the forked flame.;, 
 
 The suffering eouIs who ask the alms of prayer ; 
 
*\^. 
 
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 468 PURGATORY. 
 
 Her taper small an aged peasant lit, 
 To burn before Our Lady, that her voice, 
 Mother of mercy as she is, might plead 
 For one who left her still on earth to pray. 
 
 Sable veils 
 
 Soon hid the altars ; all things spoke of death, 
 And realms where those who leave the upper air 
 Wait till the stains of sin are cleansed, and pant 
 Amid the thirsty flames for Paradise.^ 
 
 * These verses are taken from an anonymous metrical work called "The 
 Pilgrim," published in England in 1867. 
 
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LEGENDARY AND TOETICAL. 
 
 469 
 
 ath, 
 per air 
 '. pant 
 
 ; called "The 
 
 OUR NEIGHBOR. 
 
 ELIZA ALI.EN STARR. 
 
 Set it down gently at the altar rail, 
 
 The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet ; 
 
 Long have we seen that pious face, so pale, 
 Bowed meekly at her Saviour's blessed feet. 
 
 These many years her heart was hidden where 
 Nor moth, nor rust, nor craft of man could harm ; 
 
 The blue eyes, seldom lifted, save in prayer, 
 
 Beamed with her wished-for heaven's celestial calm. 
 
 As innocent as childhood's was the face. 
 
 Though sorrow oft had touched that tender heart ; 
 
 Each trouble came as winged by special grace. 
 And resignation saved the wound from smart. 
 
 On bead and crucifix her finger kept. 
 
 Until the last, their fond, accustomed hold ; 
 
 " My Jesus," breathed the lips ; the raised eyes slept, 
 The placid brow, the gentle hand grew cold. 
 
 The choicely ripening cluster, ling'ring late 
 
 Into October on its shrivelled vine. 
 Wins mellow juices, which in patience wait 
 
 Upon those long, long days of deep sunshine. 
 
 Then set it gently at the altar rail. 
 
 The faithful, aged dust, with honors meet ; 
 
 How can we hope, if such as she can fail 
 Before th' Eternal God's high judgment-seat ? 
 
470 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 OLD BELLS. 
 
 Ring out mcrrilv^ 
 
 Loudly, chccril}^, 
 Blithe old bells from the steeple tower. 
 
 Hopefully, fearfully, 
 
 Joyfully, tearfully, 
 Moveth the bride from her maiden bower. 
 Cloud there is none in the bright summer sky, 
 Sunshine flings benison down from on high ; 
 Children sing loud as the train moves along, 
 " Happy the bride that the sun shineth on." 
 
 Knell out drearily, 
 
 Measured out wearily, 
 Sad old bells from the steeple gray. 
 
 Priests chanting slowly, 
 
 Solemnly, slowly, 
 Passeth the corpse from the portal to-day. 
 Drops from the leaden clouds heavily fall, 
 Drippingly over the plume and the pall ; 
 Murmur old folk, as the train moves along, 
 ** Happy the dead that the rain raineth on." 
 
 Toll at the hour of prime, 
 
 Matin and vesper chime. 
 Loved old bells from the steeple high ; 
 
 Rolling, like holy waves, 
 
 Over the lowly graves, 
 Floating up, prayer-fraught, into the sky. 
 Solemn the lesson your lightest notes teach, 
 Stern is the preaching your iron tongues preach ; 
 Ringing in life from the bud to the bloom ; 
 Ringing the dead to their rest in the tomb. 
 
 Peal out evermore — 
 Peal as ye pealed of yore, 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 471 
 
 r. 
 r sk}^ 
 
 1." 
 
 Brave old bells, on each holy day. 
 
 In sunshine and gladness, 
 
 Through clouds and through sadness, 
 Bridal and burial have both passed away. 
 Tell us life's pleasures with death arc still rife; 
 Tell us that death ever leadeth to life ; 
 Life is our labor and death is our rest, 
 If happy the living, the dead are the blest. 
 
 — Popular Poetry. 
 
 HOLY CHURCH! 
 
 HARRIET M. SKIDMORE. 
 
 O HOLY Church ! thy mother-heart 
 Still clasps the child of grace ; 
 
 And nought its links of love can part. 
 Or rend its fond embrace. 
 
 >» 
 
 reach ; 
 
 Thy potent prayer and sacred rite 
 Embalm the precious clay. 
 
 That waits the resurrection-light — 
 The fadeless Easter day. 
 
 And loving hearts, by faith entwined, 
 True to that faith shall be, 
 
 And keep the sister-soul enshrined 
 In tender memory ; 
 
 Shall bid the ceaseless prayer ascend, 
 To win her guerdon blest ; 
 
 The radiant day that hath no end, 
 The calm, eternal rest. 
 
m^tmm^m^en^rf^Bi 
 
 472 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 AN INCIDENT OF THE BATTLE OF BANNOCKBTJRN. 
 
 SIR WALTKR SCOTT. 
 
 Again lie faced the battle-field— 
 
 Wildly, they fly, are slain, or yield. 
 
 ** Now then,'' he said, and couch'd his spear, 
 
 *' My course is run, the goal is near ; 
 
 One effort more, one brave career, 
 
 Must close this race of mine." 
 Then, in his stirrups rising high, 
 He shouted loud his battle-cry, 
 
 " St. James for Argentine ! " 
 
 * 
 
 ¥: 
 
 ^• 
 
 * 
 
 ^ 
 
 ■» 
 
 ^ 
 
 Now toil'd the Bruce, the battle done. 
 To use his conquest boldly won : 
 And gave command for horse and spear 
 To press the Southern's scatter'd rear. 
 Nor let his broken force combine, 
 When the war-cry of Argentine 
 
 Fell faintly on his ear ! 
 " Save, save his life," he cried. " O save 
 The kind, the noble, and the brave ! " 
 The squadrons round free passage gave. 
 
 The wounded knight drew near. 
 He raised his red-cross shield no more, 
 Helm, cuish, and breast-plate stream'd with gore. 
 Yet, as he saw the King advance, 
 He strove even then to couch his lance — 
 
 The effort was in vain ! 
 The spur-stroke fail'd to rouse the horse ; 
 Wounded and weary, in 'mid course 
 
 He tumbled on the plain. 
 Then foremost was the generous Bruce 
 To raise his head, his helm to loose : — 
 
 i 
 
fOCKBURN. 
 
 spear, 
 
 ■» 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 473 
 
 " Lord Earl, the day is thine ! 
 My sovereign's charge, and adverse fate, 
 Have made our meeting all too late ; 
 
 Yet this may Argentine, 
 As boon from ancient comrade, crave— 
 A Christian's Mass, a soldier's grave." 
 Bruce pressed his dying hand— its grasp 
 Kindly replied ; but, in his clasp 
 
 It stiffen 'd and grew cold 
 
 And, " O farewell ! " the victor cried, 
 " Of chivalry the flower and pride, 
 
 The arm in battle bold. 
 The courteous mien, the noble race, 
 The stainless faith, the manly face ! 
 Bid Ninian's convent light their shrine, 
 For late- wake of De Argentine. 
 ()'er better knight on death-bier laid, 
 Torch never gleam'd, nor Mass was said ! " ' 
 
 —From '' The Lord of the Isles r 
 
 ' It is said that the body of Sir Giles de Argentine was brought to Edin- 
 burgh, and interred with the greatest pomp in St. Giles' Church'. Thus did 
 the royal Bruce respond to the dying knight's request. 
 
 kvith 
 
 gore. 
 
 ' 1 
 
474 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 PRAY FOR THE MARTYRED DEAD. 
 
 Pray for the Dead ! When, conscienceless, the nations 
 Rebellious rose to smite the thorn-crowned Head 
 
 Of Christendom, their proudest aspirations 
 Ambitioned but a place amongst the dead. 
 
 Pray for the Dead ! The seeming fabled story 
 
 Of early chivalry, in them renewed, 
 Shines out to-day with an ascendent glory 
 
 Above that field of parricidal feud. 
 
 The children of a persecuted mother, 
 
 When nations heard the drum of battle beat, 
 
 Through coward Europe, brother leagued with brother, 
 Rallied and perished at her sacred feet. 
 
 O Ireland, ever waiting the To-morrow, 
 
 Lift up thy widowed, venerable head, 
 Exultingly, through thy maternal sorrow, 
 
 Not comfortless, like Rachel, for thy dead. 
 
 For, where the crimson shock of battle thundered, 
 
 From hosts precipitated on a few. 
 Above thy sons, outnumbered, crushed and sundered, 
 
 Thy green flag through the smoke and glitter flew. 
 
 Lift up thy head ! The hurricane that dashes 
 
 Its giant billows on the Rock of Time, 
 Divests thee, mother, of thy weeds and ashes, 
 
 Rendering, at least, thy grief sublime. 
 
 For nations, banded into conclaves solemn. 
 Thy name and spirit in the grave had cast, 
 
 And carved thy name upon the crumbling column 
 Which stands amid the unremembered Past. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 475 
 
 3AD. 
 
 >, the nations 
 ed Head 
 
 ]. 
 ory 
 
 Pray for the Dead ! Cold, cold amid the splendor 
 Of the Italian Soutli our brothers sleep; 
 
 The blue air broods above them warm and tender, 
 The mists s;lide o'er them from the barren deej). 
 
 Pray for the Dead ! Hif^h-souled and lion-hearted, 
 
 Heroic martyrs to a glorious trust. 
 By them oui scorned name is re-asserted, 
 
 By them our banner rescued from the dust. 
 
 — Kilkenny Jonrnal. 
 
 at, 
 
 nth brother, 
 
 ered, 
 
 mdered, 
 er flew. 
 
 mn 
 
 IN WINTER. 
 
 ELIZA AI.I.F.X STARR. 
 
 How lonely on the hillside look the graves ! 
 The summer green no longer o'er them waves ; 
 No more, among the frosted boughs, are heard 
 The mournful whip-poor-will or singing bird. 
 
 The rose-bush, planted with such tearful care, 
 Stands in the winter sunshine stiff and bare; 
 Save here and there its lingering berries red 
 Make the cold sunbeams w^arm above the dead. 
 
 Through all the pines, and through the tall, dry grass, 
 The fitful breezes with a shiver \ jass, 
 While o'er the autumn's lately iir wering weeds 
 The snow-birds flit and peck the shelling seeds. 
 
 Because those graves look lonely, bleak and bare, 
 Because they are not, as in summer, fair, 
 O turn from comforts, cheery friends, and home, 
 And 'mid their solemn desolation roam ! 
 
 On each brown turf some fresh memorial lay ; 
 O'er each dear hillock's dust a moment stay. 
 To breathe a *' Rest in Peace " for those who lie 
 On lonely hillsides 'neath a wintry sky. 
 
476 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 OREMUS. 
 
 MAKY F.. MANMX. 
 
 Welcome, yc sad dirges of November, 
 When Indian summer drops her brilliant crown 
 All withered, as in clinging mantle brown 
 She floats away to die beneath the leaves ; 
 Pressed are the grapes, gathered the latest sheaves; 
 O wailing winds ! how can we but remember 
 The loved and lost ? () ceaseless monotones ! 
 Hearing your plaints, counting your weary moans 
 Like voices of the dead, like broken sighs 
 From stricken souls who long for Paradise, 
 We will not slight the message that ye bear, 
 Nor check a pitying thought, nor guide a prayer. 
 They have departed, we must still remember ; 
 Welcome, ye sad, sad dirges of November ! 
 
 FUNERAL HYMN. 
 
 From the French of Theodore Nisard. 
 
 A. T. SADLIER. 
 
 The bell is tolling for the dead, 
 Christians, hasten we to prayer. 
 Our brothers suffer there, 
 Consumed in struggles vain. 
 
 Have pity, have pity on them, 
 In torturing flames immersed. 
 The stains their souls aspersed 
 Retain them far from heav'n. 
 
nt crown 
 
 wn 
 
 cs; 
 
 test sheaves; 
 ember 
 tones ! 
 eary moans 
 
 IS 
 
 ise, 
 bear, 
 
 a prayer, 
 mber; 
 )er! 
 
 LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 Since God has ijiv'n us power, 
 Oh, let us tlieir woes relieve ; 
 Their hope do not deceive, 
 Our protectors they will be. 
 
 For these sufF'ring ones we [)ray, 
 Lord Jesus, Victim blest, 
 Take them from pain to rest, 
 Thy children, too, arc they. 
 
 477 
 
 [As the translation is a very rude one. we add the French original, which 
 particularly when set to music, is full of a deep solemnity and pathos.] ' 
 
 CHANT FUNEBRE. 
 
 NISARD. 
 
 La cloche tintc pour Ics morts 
 Chretiens, mettons nous en prieres ! 
 Ceux qui gemissent sont dcs freres, 
 Se consumant en vains efforts. 
 Pitie pour cux ! Pitie pour cux ! 
 lis tourbillonnent dans la flamme; 
 Les taches qui souillcnt leur ames, 
 Les tiennent captifs loin des cicux! 
 Mettons un tcrme a leur douleurs, 
 Dieu nous en donnc la puissance ; 
 Ne trompons point leur csperancc, 
 Puis ils seront nos protecteurs. 
 Disons pour nos fieres souffrants : 
 Sauveur Jesus, Sainte Victimc, 
 Tirez nos freres de I'abime, 
 Car, eux aussi, sont vos enfants. 
 
 -^^B-^ 
 
 vrC?> 
 
478 
 
 rURGATORV. 
 
 REaUIESCAT IN PACE. 
 
 HARRii:r m. skidmure. 
 
 ! il 
 
 M ■ h 
 
 O Fatiikr, give them rest — 
 Thy faithrul ones, whose day of toil is o'er, 
 Whose weary feet shall wander never more 
 
 O'er earth's unquiet breast ! 
 
 The battle-strife was loni^ ; 
 Yet, L^irt with i^race, and guided by Thy light, 
 They faltered not till triumph closed the fight, 
 
 Till pealed the victor's song. 
 
 Though drear the desert path. 
 With cruel thorns and llinty fragments strewn, 
 Where fiercely swept, amid the glare of noon. 
 
 The plague-wind's biting wrath. 
 
 Still onward pressed their feet ; 
 For patience soothed with sweet celestial balm, 
 And, from the rocks, hope called her founts to calm 
 
 The Simoom's venom-heat. 
 
 Their march hath reached its close. 
 Its toils are o'er, its Red Sea safely passed ; 
 And pilgrim feet have cast aside at last 
 
 Earth's sandal-shoon of woes. 
 
 Thou blissful promised land ! 
 One rapturous glimpse of matchless glory caught, 
 One priceless vision, with thy beauty fraught, 
 
 Hath blessed that way-worn band. 
 
 And to thy smiling shore 
 Their ceaseless messengers of longing went. 
 And blooms of bliss and fruitage of content, 
 
 Returning, gladly bore. 
 
li:(;i:m)akv and roirriLAL. 
 
 Vet sadly still they wait ; 
 For, past idolatries to ^ods of clay, 
 And past rebellions '<^ainst the Master's sway, 
 
 Have barred the j>^oldeii gale. 
 
 The niaj^ic voice of prayer, 
 The saviiij^ rite, the sacrifice of love, 
 The human tear, the si<^h of Saints above. 
 
 Blent in (jne off 'rintr fair — 
 
 These, these alone, can win 
 The boon they crave: j^lad eiitrance into rest. 
 The fadeless crown, the s^annent of the blest. 
 
 Washed pure from stain of sin. 
 
 Hear, then, our caj^er cry. 
 () God of mercy ! bid their anguish cease ; 
 To i)risoned souls, ah ! brin<^ the glad release, 
 
 And hush the mourner's sigh. 
 
 Mother of pitying love ! 
 On sorrow's flood thy tender glances bend. 
 And o'er its dark and dreadful torrent send 
 
 The olive-bearins: dove. 
 
 479 
 
 Thy potent prayer shall be 
 An arch of peace, a radiant promise-bow. 
 To span the gulf, and shed its cheering glow 
 
 O'er the dread penance-sea. 
 
 And on its pathway blest 
 The ransomed throng, in garments washed and white, 
 May safely pass to love's fair realm of light, 
 
 To heaven's perfect rest. 
 
48o 
 
 PURGATORY. 
 
 I 
 
 !l I 
 
 IIB- i 
 
 !■ I 
 
 THE FEAST OF ALL SOULS IN THE COUNTRY. 
 
 /><?/« i/ic French of Fontanes} 
 
 ANNA T. SADLIER. 
 
 E'en now doth Sagittarius from on high, 
 Outstretch his bow, and ravage all the earth. 
 The hills, and meadows where of flowers the dearth 
 
 Already felt, like some vast ruins lie. 
 
 The bleak November counts its primal day, 
 While I, a witness of the year's decline. 
 Glad of my rest, within the fields recline. 
 
 No poet heart this beauty can gainsay, 
 
 No feeling mind these autumn pictures scorn, 
 But knows how their monotonous charms adorn. 
 
 Oh, with what joy does dreamy sorrow stray 
 At eve, slow pacing, the dun-colored vale ; 
 He seeks the yellow woods, and hears the tale 
 
 Of winds that strip them of their lonely leaves ; 
 
 For this low murmur all my sense deceives. 
 In rustliiig forests do I seem to hear 
 Those voices long since still, to me most dear. 
 
 In leaves grown sere they speak unto my heart. 
 This season round the coffin-lid we press, 
 Religion wears herself a mourning dress, 
 
 More grand she seems, while her diviner part 
 
 At sight of this, a world in ruins, grows. 
 
 To-day a pious usage she has taught. 
 
 Her voice opes vaults wherein our fathers dwell. 
 
 Alas, my memory doth keep that thought. 
 The dawn appeareth, and the swaying bell 
 
 Mingles its mournful sound with whistling winds, 
 The Feast of Death proclaiming to the air. 
 Men, Avomen, children, to the Church repair. 
 
 Where one, with speech and with example binds 
 
 * Louis, Marquis de Fontanes, Peer of France, and Member of the French 
 Academy. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 481 
 
 Iber of the French 
 
 These happy tribes, maintaining- all in j)eacc. 
 He follows them, the first apostles, near, 
 Like them the pastor's holy name makes dear. 
 
 " With hymns of joy," said he, " but yesterday 
 We celebrated the triumphant dead 
 Who conquer'd heav'n by burning zeal, f.iith-fed. 
 
 For plaintive shades, whom sorrow makes his prey 
 We weep to-day, our mourning is their biiss, 
 All potent prayer is privileged in this. 
 Souls purified from sin by transient pain 
 It frees ; we'll visit their most calm domain. 
 
 Man seeks it, and descends there every hour. 
 
 But dry our tears, for now celestial rays 
 
 The grave's dim region swift shall penetrate ; 
 Yea, all its dwellers in their primal state 
 
 Shall wake, behold the light in mute amaze. 
 Ah, might I to that world my flight then wing- 
 In triumph to my God, my flock recovered bring." 
 
 So saying, offered he the holy rite, 
 
 With arms extended praying God to spare, 
 The while adoring knelt he humbly there. 
 That people prostrate ! oh, most solemn sight 
 That church, its porticoes with moss o'ergrown. 
 The ancient w^alls, dim light and Gothic panes, 
 In its antiquity the brazen lamp 
 A symbol of eternity doth stamp. 
 A lasting sun. God's majesty down sent. 
 Vows, tears and incense from the altars rise, 
 Young beauties praying 'neath their mothers' eyes, 
 Do soften by their voices innocent, 
 The touching pomp religion there reveals ; 
 The organ hush'd, the sacred silence round, 
 All, all uplifts, ennobles and inspires ; 
 Man feels himself transported where the choirs 
 Of seraphim with harps of gold entone 
 Low at Jehovah's feet their endless song. 
 

 I 1 
 
 I 
 
 1 I 
 
 i i 
 
 ■ — i 
 
 482 
 
 rURGATORY. 
 
 Then God cloth make His awful presence known, 
 Hides from the wise, to loving hearts is shown : 
 
 He seeks less to be proved than to be felt.^ 
 
 From out the Church the multitudes depart, 
 In separate groups unto th' abode they go 
 Of tranquil death, their tears still silent flow. 
 
 The standard of the Cross is borne apart, 
 Sublime our songs for death their sacred theme. 
 Now mixed with noise that heralds storms they seem ; 
 
 Now lower above our heads the dark'ning clouds, 
 Our faces mournful, our funereal hymn 
 
 Both air and landscape in our grief enshrouds. 
 
 Towards death's tranquil haven, on we fare. 
 The cypress, ivy, and the yew trees haunt 
 
 The spot where thorns seem growing everywhere. 
 
 Sparse lindens rise up grimly here and there. 
 
 The winds rush whistling through their branches gaunt. 
 Hard by a stream, my mind found there exprest 
 In waves and tombs a twofold lesson drest. 
 Eternal movement and eternal rest. 
 
 Ah, with what holy joy these peasants fain 
 
 Would honor parent dust ; they seek with pride 
 The stone or turf, concealing those allied 
 
 To them by love, they find them here again. 
 
 Alas, with us we may not seek the boon 
 Of gazing on the ashes of oar dead. 
 Our dead arc banish'd, on their rights we tread. 
 
 Their bones unhonored at hap-hazard strewn. 
 E'en now 'gainst us cry out their Manes pale. 
 Those nations and those times dire woes entail, 
 
 'Mongst whom in hearts grown weak by slow degree, 
 The cultiis of the dead has ceased. 
 
 * La Harpe said that these last twenty lines were the most beautiful verses 
 in the French tongue. They necessarily lose considerably in the transla- 
 tion. 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 483 
 
 Here, here, at least have they from wrong been free, 
 Their heritage of peace preserving best. 
 
 No sumptuous marbles burden names here writ, 
 
 A shepherd, farmer, peasant, as is fit, 
 Beneath these stones in tranquil slumber see ; 
 
 Perchance a Turenne, a Corneille they hide, 
 Who lived obscure, e'en to himself unknown. 
 
 But if from men he'd risen separate, 
 
 Sublime in camps, the theatre, the state. 
 His name by idol-loving worlds outcried. 
 Would that have made his slumber here more sweet ? 
 
 REaUIEM ^TERNAM. 
 
 T. D. MCGEE. 
 
 [This beautiful requiem, written March 6th, 186S (St. Victor's Day), on 
 the death of an intimate friend, acquires a new pathos and a new solemnity, 
 from the fact that its gifted author met his death at the hands of an assassin 
 but one month later, on the 7th of April of the same year. Like Mozart, 
 he wrote his own requiem.] 
 
 Saint Victor's Day, a day of woe. 
 The bier that bore our dead went slo 
 And silent gliding o'er the snow — 
 
 Miserere Doininr ! 
 
 With Villa Maria's faithful dead. 
 Among the just we make his bed. 
 The cross he loved, to shield his head — 
 
 Miserere Doinine ! 
 
 The skies may lower, wild storms may rave 
 Above our comrade's mountain grave, 
 That cross is mighty still to save — 
 
 Miserere Do mine ! 
 
Hi li 
 
 I i 
 
 I 
 
 ill 
 
 M 
 
 484 PURGATORY. 
 
 Deaf to the calls of love and care, 
 He bears no more his mortal share, 
 Nought can avail him now but prayer — 
 
 Miserere Doviinc ! 
 
 To such a heart who could refuse 
 Just payment of all burial dues, 
 Of Holy Church the rite and use ? 
 
 Miserere Doininc ! 
 
 Right solemnly the Mass was said, 
 While burn'd the tapers round the dead, 
 And manly tears like rain were shed — 
 
 Miserere Doniine ! 
 
 No more St. Patrick's aisles prolong 
 The burden of his funeral song, 
 His noiseless night must now be long — 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 Up from the depths we heard arise 
 A prayer of pity to the skies, 
 To Him who dooms or justifies — 
 
 Miserere Domine / 
 
 Down from the skies we heard descend 
 The promises the Psalmist penned. 
 The iDcnedictions without end — 
 
 Miserere Domine / 
 
 Mighty our Holy Church's will 
 To shield her parting souls from ill, 
 Jealous of Death, she guards them still — 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
 The dearest friend will turn away, 
 And leave the clay to keep the clay, 
 Ever and ever she will stay — 
 
 Miserere Domine ! 
 
LEGENDARY AND POETICAL. 
 
 When for us sinners at our need, 
 That mother's voice is raised to plead, 
 The frontier hosts of heaven take heed — 
 
 Miserere Do mine / 
 
 Mother of Love ! Mother of fear, 
 And holy Hope, and Wisdom dear. 
 Behold we bring thy suppliant here — 
 
 J\ User ere Do) nine ! 
 
 His glowing heart is still for aye. 
 That held fast by thy clemency, 
 Oh ! look on him with loving eye — 
 
 Miserere Doinine ! 
 
 His Faith was as the tested gold, 
 His Hope assured, not over-bold. 
 His Charities past count, untold — 
 
 Miserere Doniine ! 
 
 Well may they grieve who laid him there, 
 Where shall they find his equal — where? 
 Nought can avail him now but prayer — 
 
 Miserere Do mine I 
 
 Friend of my soul, farewell to thee ! 
 Thy truth, thy trust, thy chivalry ; 
 As thine, so may my last end be ! 
 
 Miserere Doinine / 
 
 485 
 
i 
 
 I : 
 
 i 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 ft 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 ASSOCIATION OF MASSES AND STATIONS OF THE 
 CROSS FOR THE RELIEF OF THE HOLY SOULS. 
 
 It would be a great defect in a book such as this to omit all men- 
 tion of an Association which exists in Montreal, Canada, for the 
 special relief of the Souls in Purgatory. It is certain that there are 
 Purgatorian societies, established in many other cities, both of Eu- 
 rope and America. But this Canadian one seems unique, in so 
 far, that it has a triple aim : first, that of relieving the holy souls ; 
 second, that of the conversion of infidels ; third, that of contribut- 
 ing to the support of the Mendicant Order of St. Francis. The 
 money received is sent direct to these missionaries, by whom the 
 Masses are said. Touching stories are told of the joy of these de- 
 voted apostles on receipt of such alms, which aid them so much in 
 the various good works in which they are engaged. 
 
 The society has, as it were, two branches. In the first the as- 
 sociates merely bind themselves to make the Way of the Cross once 
 a week, on a day fixed, with the primary object of relieving the 
 holy souls, and particularly those most pleasing to God ; and the 
 secondary one of converting the infidels. At the end of this exer- 
 cise, they make use of the following invocation: ''Holy Souls in 
 Purgatory, rest in peace, and pray for us." 
 
 The other branch has for its object the procuring of Masses for 
 the deliverance of the suffering souls. Each associate must pay to 
 the treasurer twenty-five cents a month, or three dollars a year ; for 
 which Masses will be said according to the intention of the sub- 
 scriber, having always in view those souls which are most pleasing 
 to God. 
 
 One may become a life member, on payment of twenty-five dol- 
 lars. Foundations of Masses can also be made in connection with 
 the Association. They are similar to those which came into exist- 
 ence at the time of the Crusades and at many other epochs in Chris- 
 tian history. Such foundations are sometimes made in wills. 
 
( 
 
 ; 
 
 \i 
 
 488 
 
 APrENDIX. 
 
 They are, of course, not within the reach of everyone. It is neces- 
 sary to pay fi\c hunched dollars into tiie hands of the Society. 
 Kvery necessary security for its proper use is given, and the donor 
 is entitled in perpetuity to a certain yearly rental to be expended 
 in Masses for his soul. The sum may be paid in instalments, or 
 several persons may club together in making the foundation. It is 
 a sublime thought that the Holy Sacrifice will thus continue to be 
 said for us, long after our memory has passed away from earth. 
 ]]ut as the three dollars a year which constitutes one a member of 
 tlie Association is much more within the reach of most of us, it may 
 be well to lay more stress upon the advantages which we shall 
 thereby gain for ourselves and our deceased friends. It eniiiles us 
 after death to a special Mass and a Way of the Cross every year 
 from each associate. The number of associates is very great ; be- 
 sides a share in all the Masses and Stations, we have also a 
 share in the good works of the missionaries of St. Francis, and can 
 gain Indulgences which have been granted to the members. These 
 Indulgences, plenary and partial, are attached to all the principal, 
 and to some of the minor feasts of the year. 
 
 In connection with the work, an almanac both in French and 
 English is published every year at Montreal, and sold for the mod- 
 erate sum of five cents. In this pamphlet a full account is given of 
 the Association, and there is besides a great deal of useful and in- 
 teresting reading, such as anecdotes relating to the dead, the opin- 
 ions of various spiritual authors on I'urgalory, and letters from 
 foreign countries, or from various individuals concerning the society 
 and its progress.^ 
 
 EXTRACTS FROM "THE CATHOLIC REVIEW."'' 
 
 " Thi>: Month of the Holv Souls "' is at hand. In Catholic lands 
 November is specially devoted by the faithful to increased suffrages 
 for the repose of the holy and patient dead. Many reports reach 
 us from experienced priests showing that the practice of requesting 
 Requiem Masses for the dead is not increasing. Priests have what 
 is, in some respects, a natural objection to urge upon their people 
 
 ' To become an associate one must address himself to the chaplain, Rev. 
 F. Reid, 401 St. Denis Street, or to the treasurer, Louis Ricard, Esq., 166 
 St. Denis St., Montreal, Canada. 
 
 2 November, 1885. 
 
APrEXDIX. 
 
 489 
 
 »nc. It is neces- 
 
 of the Society. 
 
 n, and tlie donor 
 
 to be expended 
 
 11 instalments, or 
 
 )undation. It is 
 
 i continue to be 
 
 ^vay from earth. 
 
 ne a member of 
 
 lost of us, it may 
 
 \vhieii we shall 
 
 ;. It entitles us 
 
 >oss every year 
 
 very great ; be- 
 
 ve have also a 
 
 'rancis, and can 
 
 lembers. These 
 
 11 the principal, 
 
 in French and 
 
 d for the mod- 
 
 )unt is given of 
 
 useful and in- 
 
 ead, the opin- 
 
 letters from 
 
 ing the society 
 
 :viEw. 
 
 V 2 
 
 Catholic lands 
 ased suffrages 
 reports reach 
 of requesting 
 ists have what 
 n their people 
 
 chaplain, Rev. 
 icard, Esq., 166 
 
 perseverance in this old Catholic practice of piety and gratitude. 
 It is one which can be easily understood. Yet, largely owing (o this 
 nice delicacy, they are, after their own deaths, forgotten by niuiy 
 bound to fhem through spiritual gratitude. One of the most ex- 
 perienced priests in New York tells us thai for five priests tli.u li.i\e 
 died in his house he has not known ten Masses to be said at llie 
 request of the laity. How does friendshi[) serve others less public 
 and less popular .? It gives a big funeral, a long procession of 
 useless carriages, but no alms to the poor, and no Masses for the 
 dead. 
 
 What a pity it is that in drawing so much that is Catholic and 
 beautiful from Ireland, we did not adopt its truly Christian devotion 
 for the forgotten and neglected dead, which makes every priest re- 
 cite the L>c' Profundis and prayers for the faithful departed, before 
 he leaves the altar. We noticed some time airo that the Holv See 
 sanctioned a Spanish practice of permitting to each priest three 
 Masses on All Souls' Day as on Christmas Day. No doubt, were 
 it properly petitioned, it would likewise extend to all the churches 
 drawing their faith from St. Patrick's preaching, that privilege, as 
 well as the beautiful custom that now has the force of law in Ire- 
 land, and that recalls so much of her devotion to the dead and of 
 her suffering for the Catholic faith. That De Frofundis is one of 
 the chapters of " fossil history," which in all future periods will re- 
 call the generous endowments that Ireland once provided for her 
 dead, and the ruthless confiscations by which they were robbed. 
 
 Not a Catholic American paper that vvc have received this No- 
 vember has failed to argue ably, generously, and most Christianly, 
 for suffrages for those who have gone before and are anticipating 
 the advent of final peace. 
 
 The letters which come to a Catholic newspaper office are a very 
 sure barometer of the waves of thought in the Catholic atmosphere 
 of the country. From those that we have received we can affu'm 
 that no devotion would be much more popular with the people than 
 that which was pronounced in the days of the Maccabees "a holy 
 and wholesome thought." 
 
 Every day now there is an agreeable record in the daily papers 
 of New York of Requiem services held in the various churches for 
 
490 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 the repose of the soul of the hite Cardinal. Church after church 
 seems to surpass its predecessors in the grateful devotion of the 
 people, who show that they remember tiieir prchite. In St. 
 Gabriel's the Cardinal's private secretary, Mgr. Farley, had the 
 satisfaction of witnessing; an exceptionally large gathering to honor 
 his illustrious chief The Paulist Fathers had a Requiem service 
 that was worthy of their Church and their affection for the dead, to 
 whom they were bound by so many ties. 
 
 Rome, if the city of the soul, is also pre-eminently the city of the 
 dead. So many great and illustrious deaths are reported to it daily 
 from the ends of the earth that to it death and greatness are 
 familiar and almost unnoliceable facts. It is, therefore, not unde- 
 serving of remark to find the newspapers of the Eternal City 
 marking their notices of the passing of our Cardinal with unusual 
 signs of mourning. Their comments on the great loss of the Amer- 
 ican Church are toned by the gravis mccror with which the Holy 
 Father received by Atlantic Cable the sad news. 
 
 In the American College, Rev. Dr. O'Connell, the President, 
 took immediate steps to ]")ay to its illustrious patron the last 
 homage that Catholic affection and loyalty can render to the great 
 dead. From a letter to IVic CatJiolk Review we learn that the cele- 
 brant of the Solemn Mass of Requiem was the rector, Rev. Dr. 
 O'Connell ; Rev. John Curley, deacon ; Rev. Bernard Duff}', sub- 
 deacon ; Rev. Thomas McManus and William Guinon, acolytes ; 
 Mr. William Murphy, thurifer; and Rev. Messrs. Cunnion and 
 Raymond, masters of ceremonies. All these gentlemen are students 
 from the diocese of New York. 
 
 A REQUIEM FOR THE CARDINAL IN PARIS. 
 
 Paris, October 30. — A solemn funeral service of exceptional 
 splendor was celebrated this morning at the Madeleine for the re- 
 pose of the late Cardinal McCloskey, Archbishop of New York. 
 The church was hung with black and was resplendent with lights. 
 Outside the portico, on the steps, were two large funeral torches, 
 with green flames. Similar torches were visible in many parts of 
 the edifice, including the lofty upper galleries. The catafalque was 
 of large dimensions, and was flanked on either side by numerous 
 lights and torches as well as by marble images. Over all was a 
 
APPENDIX, 
 
 491 
 
 ch after rlnirch 
 devotion of the 
 rehite. In St. 
 I'arlcy, h;ul the 
 liering to honor 
 Lequiem service 
 for the dead, to 
 
 y the city of the 
 orted to it daily 
 greatness are 
 eforc, not unde- 
 2 Eternal City 
 lal with unusual 
 ss of the Amer- 
 ■hich the Holy 
 
 the President, 
 atron the last 
 er to the great 
 that the cele- 
 ctor, Rev. Dr. 
 d Duffy, sub- 
 on, acolytes ; 
 Cunnion and 
 n are students 
 
 ARIS. 
 
 exceptional 
 ne for the re- 
 f New York, 
 t with lights, 
 eral torches, 
 lany parts of 
 tafalque was 
 by numerous 
 ,'er all was a 
 
 sable canopy, suspended from the ceiling. A Cardinal's hat, with 
 its tassels, lay on the pall. The late Cardinal's motto, " In the 
 hope of life eternal," was repeated frequently in the decorations. 
 
 A DUTY OF NOVEMBER. 
 
 "HAVE PITY ON ME, AT LEAST YOU, MY FRIENDS." 
 
 (From the Texas Monitor.) 
 
 Wii have often repeated in our morning and night prayers the 
 words of the Creed: " I believe iii the communion of saints," with- 
 out thinking, perhaps, that we were expressing our belief in one of 
 the most beautiful and consoling doctrines of the Holy Catholic 
 Church. I believe in the commuiiioi: of saints — that is, I believe 
 ill the holy communion of prayer and intercession which exists 
 between all the members of the Mystical IJotly of Christ — the 
 Church, be they fighting the battles of the Lord against the De\il 
 the Flesh, and the World, in the ranks of the Church Militant on 
 earth, or enjoying in the happy mansions of Heaven their eternal 
 reward, as members of the Church Triumphant, or finally waiting 
 in the dark prison of Purgatory until they shall have paid their debt 
 to the Eternal Justice "A> the last farthing''^ and be saved "yet, so 
 a3 by fire." I believe in the communion of saints — that is, I believe 
 that there exists no barrier between the members of Christ. Death 
 itself cannot separate us from our brethren, who have gone before 
 us. We believe that we daily escape innumerable dangers, both 
 spiritual and temporal, through the prayers of our friends of the 
 '^I'riumphant Church ; and we believe also that it is within our power 
 to help by our prayers and sacrifices our friends who are for a time 
 in the middle place of expiation, because "nothing defiled can enter 
 the Kingdom of Heaven," 
 
 It has always been the practice of the Catholic Church to offer 
 prayers and other pious works in suffrage for the dead, as is abun- 
 dantly proved by the writings of the Latin Fathers, Tertullian, St. 
 Cyprian, St. Augustine, St. Gregory, and of the Greek Fathers, St. 
 Ephrem, St. Basil, and St. John Chrysostom. St. Chrysostom says: 
 
 '• It was not without good reason ordained by the Apostles that 
 mention should be made of the dead in the tremendous mysteries, 
 because they knew well that these would receive great benefit 
 from it." 
 
#r 
 
 492 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 By the expression " trcmciicloiis mystcncs " is meant the Holy 
 Sacrifice of the Mass. 
 
 St. Au}j;ustine says, npon tiie same siil)j('ct : 
 
 "It is not to be douhtecl that tlu; dead are aided by prayors of 
 tlie Holy C'luucli and by the salutary sacrifice, and by the alms 
 which are offered for their spirits that the Lord may deal with tliein 
 more mercifully than their sins have deserved. For this, which 
 has been iianded down by the Fathers, the Universal Church ob- 
 serves.'' 
 
 St. Augustine also tells us that Arius was the first who dared to 
 leach that it was of no use to offer up prayers and sacrifices for the 
 dead, and this doctrine of Arius he reckoned among heresies. 
 (Heresy 53.) 
 
 The Church has always made a memento of the dead in the holy 
 sacrifice of the Mass, and exhorted the faithful to pray for them. 
 She urges us to pray for the souls in Purgatory, because not being 
 able to merit, they cannot helj) themselves in the least. I'o their 
 appeals for mercy the Almighty answers that His Justice must be 
 satisfied, and that the night in which no one can any longer work 
 has arrived for them (St. John i\., v. 4), and thus these poor souls 
 have recourse to our prayers. According to the pious Gerson we 
 may hear their supplications: "Pray for us because we cannot do 
 anytliing for ourselves. This help we have a right to cxj^ect from 
 you, you have known and loved us in the world. Do not forget us 
 in the time of our need. It is said that it is in the time of aflliction 
 that we know our true friends ; but what aflliction could be com- 
 pared to ours? Be moved with compassion." Have pity on us, at 
 least you, our friends ! 
 
 The Church being aware of the ingratitude and forgetfulncss of 
 men, and the facility with which they neglect their most sacred 
 duties, has set apart a d;iy to be consecrated to the remembrance 
 of the dead. On the 2d day of November, All Souls' Day, she ap- 
 plies all her prayers to propitiate the Divine Mercy through the 
 merits of the Precious Blood of Jesus Christ, her Divine Spouse, to 
 obtain for the souls in Purgatory the remission of the temporal 
 punishment due to their sins, and their speedy admission into the 
 eternal abode of rest, light, and bliss. How holy and precious is 
 the institution of All Souls' Day! How full of charity I It truly 
 demoustrates the love and solicitude of the Church for all her chil- 
 dren. In the first centuries of the Church, while the faithful were 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 493 
 
 meant the Holy 
 
 (1 by prawMS of 
 11(1 by the alms 
 ^ deal Willi llicm 
 For this, which 
 isal Church ob- 
 
 st who dared to 
 lacrifices for the 
 mong heresies. 
 
 lead ill the holy 
 
 pray for them. 
 
 ause not bein<>: 
 
 east. I'o their 
 
 usticc must be 
 
 my longer work 
 
 hese poor souls 
 
 ious Gerson we 
 
 I wc cannot do 
 
 to expect from 
 
 o not forget us 
 
 me of aflliction 
 
 could be com- 
 
 pity on us, at 
 
 Drgetfulness of 
 r most sacred 
 
 remembrance 
 ' Day, she np- 
 y through the 
 ine Spouse, to 
 
 the temporal 
 ssion into the 
 iid precious is 
 ityl It truly 
 )r all her chil- 
 i faithful were 
 
 most exact in praying for tlu-ir deceased friends and ivlativcs and 
 in having the holy sacrifice of the Mass otTiTed for tlnin, ihe C'hurcli 
 liad not yet appointed a special day for all the souls in I'uigator}'. 
 ]»iit in (^98 St. Odilon, Abbot of Cluny. h.i\ing established in all 
 the inoiiastcr/*-S of his c/i tier the feast of llu.' coimiK'nioiatioii of the 
 tailhfu! departe<l, .ind ordered that the ofiice be recited for tin in 
 all, this di iolion which was approved by the I'opes, soon became 
 general in all tlw Western Churches. 
 
 In doing away with the Christian practice of praying for the 
 dead, the Protestant sects have despised the voice of nature, the 
 spirit of Christianity, and the most ancient and respectable tradi- 
 tion. 
 
 The most efficacious means to help the suffering souls in I'lir- 
 gatory are prayei-, fasting, almsgiving, and above all the holy sacrifice 
 of the Mass. lly fasting we mean all sorts of mortifications to ab- 
 stain from certain things in our meals, to deprive ourselves of lawful 
 amusements, to suffer with resignation trials and contradictions, 
 humiliations and reverses of fortune. 'I'he alms we give f(jt- the 
 dead prompt the Lord to be merciful to them. 'I'he sacrifice of the 
 Mass, which was instituted for the living ami the dead, is the most 
 efficacious means of delivering them fiom their pains. "If the 
 sacrifices which Job," says St. John Chrysostom, " ottered to (jocI 
 for his children purified them, who couhl doubt that, when we olVer 
 to God the Adorable Sacrifice for the departed, they reci-ive con- 
 solation therefrom, and that the ]>lood of Christ which flows upon 
 our altars for them, the voice of which ascends to heaven, brings 
 about their deliverance." 
 
 Not only charity and gratitude demand that wc should pray for 
 the souls in Purgatory, but it is also for us a positive duty, which 
 we are in justice bound to fulfill. Perhaps some of these poor souls 
 are suffering on our account. Perhaps they are relatives or friends 
 who have loved us too much, or who ha\e been induced to commit 
 sin by our words or example. We are also prompted to pray for 
 them by our own interest. What consolation will it not be for us 
 to know that we have abbreviated their sufferings I Plow great will 
 their gratitude be after their deliverance ! They will manifest it by 
 praying for us, and obtaining for us the help which is so necessary 
 in this valley of tears. In prosperity men forget those who have 
 helped them in adversity; but it will not be so with the souls in 
 Purgatory. After being admitted to the kingdom of heaven through 
 
494 
 
 ArrENDix. 
 
 the help of our prayers, "they will solicit," says St. Bernard, "the 
 most precious gifts of grace iu our behalf, and because the merciful 
 shall obtain mercy, we will receive after our death the reward of 
 whatever may have been done for the souls of Pui'gatory during 
 our life. Others will pray for us, and we shall share more abun- 
 dantly in the suffrages which the Church offers without ceasing, for 
 those who sleep in the Lord." 
 
 I. '< 
 
 PURGATORIAL ASSOCIATION. 
 
 A CARD mOM REV. S. S. MATTINGLY. 
 
 {From the Catholic Columbian^ 
 
 We wish to call the attention of the members of this Association 
 to the near approach of the commemoration of all the faithful de- 
 parted, which takes place on Monday, the second day of next No- 
 vember. Our Association is in its fourth year of existence. Its 
 numbers have increased beyond our expectations. 
 
 Just now, on account of the season, applications begin to come 
 in more rapidly, hence we wish to give again the conditions for 
 membership, and the benefits derived from it. The members say 
 one decade of the beads, or one " Our Father " and ten " Hail 
 Mar\s " every day. They may take what mystery of the Holy 
 Rosary devotion may prompt, and retain or change it at their own 
 will, without reference to us. This is all that is required, and, of 
 course, the obligation cannot bind under pain of even venial sin. 
 Those tamilies which say the Rosary every day need not add an- 
 other decade unless they choose, but may say the Rosary in union 
 with the Purgatorial Association, and thus gain the benefits for 
 themselves and the faithful departed. 
 
 The benefits are one Mass every week, which is said for the poor 
 souls, for the spiritual and temporal welfare of the members, ac- 
 cording to their intention, and for the same intention a memento is 
 made every day during Holy Mass for them. 
 
 There arc many kind priests who are associated with us in this 
 good work, and they, we are sure, remember us all in the Holy 
 Sacrifice. We thank and beg tiicm to continue to be mindful of 
 us associated and bound together in this most charitable work of 
 shortening, by our prayers and good works, the time of purgation 
 for the souls in Purgatory. 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 495 
 
 Those who desire to become members may send their names, 
 with a postal card directed to themselves, so that their application 
 may be answered. The applications for membership are directed 
 to Rev. S. S. Mattingly, McConnellsville, Morgan County, Ohio. 
 
 Some two or three times complaints have come to us, but in all 
 cases the letters never came to hand. We have from lime to time 
 received letters not intended for us, and from this we judge our let- 
 ters went elsewhere. We try to be prompt, though an odd time 
 our absence on the mission may delay an answer. 
 
 Now, dear friends, there is another fact to which we must advert. 
 Many of our dear associates, who were attracted by the charity of 
 our work, are no longer among the living. Their friends have 
 kindly reminded us of their death by letter, and we, grateful for 
 this charit}', always pray for them. Their day is passed. Our 
 time is coming. Who can remember the kind faces which have 
 gone out of our fiimilies and not shed tears at their absence ? Their 
 places are vacant. Love leaves the very chairs on which they sat 
 unoccupied. W^e look around the room and at the places their 
 forms filled within it. All these bring tears to our eyes, and make 
 the heart too full for utterance. Thus fond imagination, sprung 
 from love, wipes out the vacancy. We look through the mist of 
 our tears and there again are the forms of our love, but alas ! they 
 do not speak to us. And days and months are run into years, yet 
 our tears flow on ; indeed we cannot and we do not want to forget 
 them. We think of our sins and faults and how they caused theirs, 
 and our cry of pardon for ourselves must come after or with that 
 of mercy for them. 
 
 THE HOLY FACE AND THE SUFFERING SOULS. 
 
 The holy souls in Purgatory are ever saying in beseeching ac- 
 cents: "Lord, show us Thy Face," desiring with a great desire to 
 see it ; waiting, they longingly wait for the Divine Face of their 
 Saviour. We should often pray for the holy souls who during life 
 thirsted to see, in the splendor of its glory, the Human Face of 
 Jesus Christ. We should often say the Litany of the Holy Face ot 
 Jesus, that our Lord may quickly bring these holy souls to the con- 
 templation of His Adorable Countenance. We should pray to 
 Mary, Mother All-Merciful, who, before all others, saw the Face of 
 Jesus in His two-fold nativity in Bethlehem, and from the tomb, to 
 
frT 
 
 I' i 
 
 1 I 
 
 h- I 
 
 I r 
 
 M 
 
 I 
 
 ■1 
 
 496 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 plcrid for tliose lioly souls ; to St. Joseph, who saw the Face of 
 Jesus in Bethlehem and Nazareth ; to the glorious St. Michael, Our 
 Lady's regent in Purgatory, one of the seven who stands before the 
 throne and Face of God, who has been appointed to receive souls 
 after death, and is the special consoler and advocate of tlic holy 
 souls detained amidst the flames of Purgatory, We should also 
 pray to St. Peter for the holy souls, he to whom Christ gave the 
 keys of the kingdom of Heaven. The holy souls are suffering the 
 temporal penalty due to sin. This Apostle had by his sin effaced 
 the image of God in his soul, but Jesus turned His Holy Face 
 toward the unfaithful disciple, and His divine look wounded the 
 heart of Peter with repentant sorrow and love ; also St. James and 
 St. John, who with him saw the glory of the Face of Jesus on 
 Mount Tiiabor, and its sorrow in Gethsemane, when, 'neath the 
 olive trees, it was covered with confusion, and bathed in a bloody 
 sweat for our sins. These great saints, dear to the Heart of Jesus, 
 will surely hear our prayers in behalf of the holy souls. St. Mary 
 Magdalen, who saw the Holy Face in agony on the cross, when its 
 incomparable beauty was obscured under the fearful cloud of the 
 sins of the world, and who assisted the Virgin Mother to wash, 
 anoint, and veil the bruised, pale, features of her Divine Son ; the 
 saint, whose many sins were forgiven her because she had loved 
 much, v.-ill lend heed to our prayers for the holy souls. We should 
 also invoke, for the holy souls, the Virgin Martyrs, because of their 
 purity, love, and the sufferings they endured to see in Heaven the 
 Face of their King. 
 
 Yet nothing can help these souls so much as the Holy Sacrifice 
 of the Mass. By the " Blood of the Testament " these prisoners 
 can be brought out of the pit. Even to hear Mass with devotion 
 for the holy souls, brings them great refreshment. St. Jerome 
 says : " The souls in Purgator}^ for whom the priest is wont to 
 pray at Mass, suffer no pain whilst Mass is being offered, that after 
 every Mass is said for the souls in Purgatory some souls are re- 
 leased therefrom." Our Blessed Lady, the consoler of the afflicted, 
 will always do much to aid the holy souls ; in her maternal solici- 
 tude, she hws promised io assist and console the devout wearers of 
 the Brown Scapular of Mount Carmel detained in Purgatory, and 
 also to speedily release them from its flames, the Saturday after 
 their death, \i some itiw conditions have been complied with during 
 their life-time on earth. Bishop Vaughan says, " there can be no 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 497 
 
 ) saw the Face of 
 IS St. Michael, Our 
 ) stands before the 
 ;d to receive souls 
 •ocate of the holy 
 We should also 
 a Christ gave the 
 3 are suffering the 
 by his sin effaced 
 :1 His Holy Face 
 ook wounded the 
 ilso St. James and 
 Face of Jesus on 
 when, 'neath the 
 ithed in a bloody 
 le Heart of Jesus, 
 ' souls. St. Mary 
 he cross, wlien its 
 irful cloud of the 
 Mother to wash, 
 Divine Son ; the 
 e she had loved 
 )uls. We should 
 , because of their 
 tQ in Heaven the 
 
 le Holy Sacrifice 
 these prisoners 
 s with devotion 
 nt. St. Jerome 
 iest is wont to 
 Tered, that after 
 ne souls are re- 
 of the afflicted, 
 maternal solici- 
 vout wearers of 
 Purgatory, and 
 ; Saturday after 
 ied with during 
 here can be no 
 
 difficulty in believing thus, if we consider the meaning of a Plenary 
 Indulgence granted by the Church, and applicable to the holy 
 souls. The Sabbatine Indulgence is, in fact, a Plenary Indulgence 
 granted by God, through the prayers of the Blessed Virgin Mary to 
 the deceased who are in Purgatory, provided they have fulfilled 
 upon earth certain specified conditions. The Sacred Congregation 
 of the Holy Office by a Decree of February 13, 16 13, forever 
 settled any controversy that should arise on the sul)ject of this ]Jull. 
 St. Teresa, in the thirty-eighth chapter of her life, shows the special 
 favor Our Lady exerts in favor of her Carmelite children and all 
 who wear the Brown Scapular. She saw a holy friar ascending to 
 Heaven without passing through Purgatory, and was given to un- 
 derstand, that because he had kept his rule well he had obtained 
 the grace granted to the Carmelite Order by special bulls, as to the 
 pains of Purgatory. So from their prison these waiting souls are 
 ever crying out to us, patient and resigned, yet with a most burning 
 desire, they are longing to be brought to the presence of God, and 
 to gaze upon the glorified countenance of the Incarnate Word. 
 They are fiir more perfectly members of the Mystical Body of 
 Christ than we are, because they are confirmed in grace, and the 
 doctrine of the Communion of Saints should hence prompt us to 
 give the holy souls the charitable assistance of our alms, prayers, 
 and good works. " Bear ye one another's burdens, and so ye 
 shall fulfill the law of Christ," and thus one day with them enjoy 
 the endless Vision of the Holy Face of Jesus Christ in its un- 
 clouded splendor in Heaven. 
 
 WHEN WILL THEY LEARN ITS SECRET? 
 
 HOW THE CARDINAL'S OBSEaUIES IMPRESSED A BAPTIST 
 
 SPECTATOR. 
 
 (From the Baptist Examiner.) 
 
 For the third time in a quarter of a century the streets have been 
 thronged, and an unending procession has filed by the dead. Long 
 lines reached many blocks, both up and down Fifth avenue, and 
 they grew no shorter through the best part of three days. This 
 recognition of the eminence and power of the Cardinal, John ]\Ic- 
 Closkey, has been very general. 
 
 All classes have paid homage. And why 1 He was a gentle- 
 
J 
 
 498 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 man. He was learned, politic, able, far-sighted, clean. His energy 
 was without measure. The rise and reach of his influence and 
 work have no chance for comparison with the accomplishment of 
 any other American clergyman. There is none to name beside 
 him. He was a burning zealot all his life. Elevation and honors 
 came to him. He became a prince in his Church. He swept 
 every avenue of power and influence within his grasp into that 
 Church. He lived singly for it. In his death, his Church exalts 
 herself. She gives, after her faith, prayers, Masses, glory. In his 
 life he spoke only for Rome. In his death his voice is intensified. 
 His life was one long gain to his people. In his death they suffer 
 no loss. His time and character and personality are so exalted, 
 that, " being dead he yet speaketh." 
 
 The Church of Rome stands alone. It is forever strange. It is 
 a law to itself. Thus it comes that this funeral does not belong to 
 America, or to the century. Rome and the Middle Ages conducted 
 the obsequies. The canons are prescribed. They have never 
 changed. Behold then in New York, what might have been seen 
 in ruined Melrose Abbey in its ancient day of splendor. 
 
 The Cardinal lies in state in his cathedral, that consummate 
 flower of all his ministry. Saw you ever a Roman Pontiff lying in 
 state .'' The high catafalque is covered with yellow cloth. The 
 body, decked in official robes, uncoffined, reclines aslant thereon. 
 The head is greatly elevated. A mighty candle shines on the bier 
 at either corner. The Cardinal's red hat hangs at his feet. His 
 cape is purple, his sleeves are pink drawn over with lace, his shirt 
 is crimson and white lace covered. Purple gloves are on his hands. 
 On his head is his tall white mitre. His pectoral cross lies on his 
 pulseless breast. His seal ring glitters on his finger. To me it was 
 an awful and uncanny figure. The man was old and disease 
 wasted. The lips were sunken over shrunken gums. The chin 
 was sharp and far-protruding. The colors of the cloths were gar- 
 ish and loud. It was a gay lay figure, red and yellow and white and 
 black and purple and pink. It made me shudder. Yet lying 
 there under the very roof his hands had builded, that reclining fig- 
 ure was immensely impressive. 
 
 The work — the work, in light and strength and glory stands ; 
 but the skilled and cunning workman is brought low, and lies cold 
 and silent. The crowded and glorious, almost living cathedral— 
 the richly bedecked body dismantled, deserted, dead. Was ever 
 
lean. His energy 
 lis influence and 
 xomplisliment of 
 ; to name beside 
 nation and honors 
 iircli. He swept 
 s grasp into that 
 his Church exalts 
 es, glory. In his 
 •ice is intensified, 
 death they sufter 
 y are so exalted, 
 
 ^er strange. 
 
 It is 
 
 3es not belong to 
 e Ages conducted 
 "hey have never 
 It have been seen 
 iindor. 
 
 that consummate 
 
 ti Pontiff lying in 
 
 low cloth. The 
 
 aslant thereon. 
 
 lines on the bier 
 
 It his feet. His 
 
 ith lace, his shirt 
 
 are on his hands. 
 
 cross lies on his 
 
 r. To me it was 
 
 Did and disease 
 
 ums. The chin 
 
 cloths were gar- 
 
 3W and white and 
 
 der. Yet lying 
 
 hat reclining fig- 
 
 (1 glory stands ; 
 
 )w, and lies cold 
 inij cathedral — 
 ead. Was ever 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 499 
 
 contrast so wide or suggestive? The white, shining arches and 
 pinnacles, up-pointing in architectural splendor. The architect lies 
 under them prone, unconscious, decaying. The beautiful win- 
 dows, all storied in colors almost supernatural, and telling their 
 histories and honoring their place. Uut the temple of the Cardi- 
 nal's soul is in ruins, the windows are broken, and its day is dark- 
 ness and mold. 
 
 So, silent he lies in his house, surrounded by his faithful, whose 
 cries and lamentations he hears not, his cold hands clasped, his 
 dead face uncovered, as though looking above its high vaulted 
 roof. 
 
 I seemed to see again the bedizened skeleton of old St. Carlo 
 Borromeo in the crypt of the Cathedral of Milan, as lying in his 
 coffin of glass, his bones all bleached and dressed. But the care- 
 less throngs go thoughtlessly, noisily on. Some weep, some laugh, 
 and Thursday, the day of sepulture, comes. What masses of people ! 
 W^hat platoons of police ! The magnificent temple is packed by 
 pious thousands. The four candles about the bier become four 
 shining rows. The glitter of royal violet velvet and cloth of gold 
 add to the gorgeous trappings of the dead. The waiting multitudes 
 look breathlessly at the black draped columns, the emblems of 
 mourning put on here and there. Without announcement a single 
 voice cries out from the dusky chancel the first lines of the office 
 for the dead. A great Gregorian choir of boys takes up the wail, 
 and their shrill treble is by-and-by joined by the hoarser notes of 
 four hundred priests, in the solemn music of the Pontifical Requiem 
 Mass. It has never been given to mortal ears to listen to such 
 marvels of musical sound in this country. Anon the great organs 
 and the united choirs render the master's most mournful music for 
 the dead. Then processions, then eulogy. And what eulogy ! 
 Schools, colleges, convents, asylums, protectories, palaces, cathe- 
 drals, churches. What a vast and impressive testimony ! 
 
 What a company rises up to call him blessed ! This imposing 
 pageantry is not an empty show. It is Rome's display of her re- 
 sources and power. Who else can have such processions and vest- 
 ments and music ? Who can so minister to the inherent, perhaps 
 barbaric remnant, love for display ? In the wide world where can 
 the ear of man catch such harmonies .'' The music, as a whole, was 
 a deluge of lofty and inspiring expressions. Anguish, despair, de- 
 votion, submission, elevation ! Ah, how the lofty Gothic arches 
 
■iMMMS 
 
 500 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 I 
 
 thundered ! How they sighed and cried and melted. The great 
 assembly was swayed, awe-struck, liUe branches of forest trees in 
 gales or in zephyrs. The influence of those melodies will not die. 
 Oh ! Rome is old, Rome is new ; Rome is wise. Rome is the Solo- 
 mon of the Churches. 
 
 Mark this well. The Cardinal is dead. What hap)3ens ? Does 
 the machinery stagger } Has a great and irreparable calamity 
 fallen on the churches ? Are any plans abandoned .'' Is the policy 
 affected.? Will aggression cease? Nothing happens but a great 
 and imposing funeral. The plans are not atTected. The lines do 
 not waver. No work begun will be suspended. Everything goes 
 on. If only a deacon should die out of some Baptist church, alas ! 
 my brethren, the plate returns empty to the altar. The minister 
 puts on his hat. Consternation jumps on the ridge-pole and 
 languishing, settles down. When shall we learn ? When shall we 
 plan harmoniously, unite our counsels, work within the lines, cease 
 wasting resources, carry forward a common work, and when some 
 man falls, put a new man in his place, move up the line, and keep 
 step ? To-day, when a gap is made here, we try to mend it, after 
 a time, by seeking how great a gap we can create somewhere else. 
 W^hat wonder that good men get tired and go where no such folly 
 flies, and where the current flows on and on forever ! 
 
 And the old Cardinal rests in the crypt, under the high white 
 altar. He sleeps in the mausoleum of the great. He has the re- 
 ward of his labors. He carried into his tomb the insignia of his 
 high office. Sealed up in his coffin is a parchment which future 
 ages may read, long after we are all forgot, giving a condensed 
 record of his long and active career. The bishops and priests have 
 gone home to their parishes ; and their tireless labors go on. They 
 are thinking of the mighty but gentle and kindly Cardinal ;*of the 
 telegrams from the Papal Court, the College of Cardinals, the Pope, 
 and of the imposing funeral ; of his own words which they wrung 
 from him amidst the rigors of death: 
 
 *' I bless you, my children, and all the churches." It was the 
 parting of a prophet. And the priests will live for the Church and 
 mankind. They are whispering, "The fliithful are rewarded! 
 Effort is acknowledged ! O, Rome has -piikjn the earth ! Rome 
 is putting her armor together again." Sometimes I hear the creak- 
 ing of her coat of mail as she mightily moves herself in exercise. 
 
 n;^ 
 
:ltecl. The great 
 of forest trees in 
 )clies- will not die. 
 Kome is the Solo- 
 happens ? Does 
 parable calamity 
 d ? Is the policy 
 pens but a great 
 d. The liney do 
 Everything goes 
 tist church, alas ! 
 r. The minister 
 2 ridge-pole and 
 ' When shall we 
 1 the lines, cease 
 , and when some 
 he line, and keep 
 to mend it, after 
 somewhere else, 
 ere no such folly 
 
 sr the high white 
 He has the re- 
 le insignia of his 
 lent which future 
 ing a condensed 
 > and priests have 
 )ors go on. They 
 Cardinal ;*of the 
 rdinals, the Pope, 
 /hich they wrung 
 
 es." It was the 
 r the Church and 
 [ are rewarded 1 
 lie earth ! Rome 
 I hear the creak- 
 i\i in exercise.