.^^^>^< ^ .„ UC-NRLF B e aofi 167 ■^^: li^)^^^ EHbH^' ifAi^^MHi ''i;*i^,k:M^-- «•> ^ :i-^'*;^ iERKELEY LIBRARY UNIVERSITY Of CALIFORNIA '^^ ^^. ^. i- SERMONS THE ABBE MAC CARTHT, S.J. THE CKIiEBRATEI) IRISH PREACHER IX FRANCE. TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH, A NOTICE OF HIS LIFE AND CHARACTER, BY C. MAHONY. DUBLIN PUBLISHED BY JAMES DUFFY, 10, WELLINGTON-QUAY 1848. LOAN STACK Dublin : Printed by Edward Bull, 6, Bachelor's-walk. CONTENTS, Introduction .... BiocxRAPHicAi. Notice of the Abbe Mac Carthy . PAGE i xiii SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. The Last Judgment. For the First Sunday of Advent . The Word of God. For the Third Sunday of Advent The State of humiliation in which Jesus Christ was born. For Christmas-day . . . . - , • The Divinity of Jesus Christ demonstrated by the fulfilment of the Prophecies which refer to the ignominy and sufferings of the MESsiAH. For Palm Sunday Triumphs of the Church. For Pentecost Sunday The Divinity of the Christian B,ehgi9N proved by its Myste- ries. For Trinity Sunday .... Jesus Christ considered as the principle of ruin and resurrec- tion. For the Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin, and the Presentation of our Lord in the Temple Greatness of the Saints. For the Feast of All Saints Immortality of Man. For the same Festival . 1 20 37 52 64 81 97 120 136 SERMONS RElity.' Alas! Ave little imagined when we heard him, that he would so soon receive a glorious crown in heaven. The church of St. Maurice, in Annecy, enjoyed the sad privilege of re-echoing the last accents of an orator whose thoughts were so profound, so sublime, and so animated by faith — whose arguments were so luminous and convincing — whose style was so pure, so eloquent, and so attractive — whose delivery was so dignified and imposing — whose noble countenance was equally indicative of virtue and talent — whose piety, so lively, so tender, and far more eloquent than his language, captivated evei'y heart. He seemed as if Bossuet had imparted to him his ma- THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixi jesty, Fenelon his mannei', and St. Francis of Sales his mildness and his piety, ut how can our feeble pen attempt to delineate so engaging a portrait ?" To delineate so engaging a portrait — to fill up the faint and shadowy outline already presented in these pages — to complete the interesting picture in all its exquisite proportions — would be, under any circumstances, a difficult undertaking, even in more skilful hands ; but it is rendered still more difficult by the meagre and unsatisfactory details which are given by the bio- graphers of the Abbe Mac Carthy. All accounts, however, concur in representing him to have been endowed with every virtue that could adorn human nature in its loftiest perfection. His whole life has been a practical exposition of these maxims of sanctity which the Spirit of God has dictated, and which has raised up so many above all the infirmities of this earth in every age. Guided by the light of these sublime counsels, he followed in the footsteps of that glorious array, whose lives revealed the perfection of Christianity, until he reached the blessed eminence of spiritual perfection. Elevated to that lofty region above the miserable cares of the restless world below — undisturbed by the distant clamour of its deceitful maxims, and viewing its fascinat- ing trifles and delusions, not through the dense exhalations which arose from the shme of its corruption, but regarding them with the eye of faith, through the cloudless air of heaven, which he breathed in his exile, he passed through life holding converse with the spirits of the just made perfect, or imparting the bea- titudes to the busy multitude who occupied the plain below, and making this dark world, through which he passed, a sanctuary, within whose expanded circle no ignorance or guilt could enter. From the many perfections which he possessed in a most eminent degree, it will be sufficient for this hurried notice to select a few of those by which he was more particularly distinguished. Impressed with that truth which the saints have all so stre- nuously inculcated — that humility is the foundation and support of every other virtue and perfection, as its opposite vice is the beginning of all sin,* he carefully cultivated that meekness and humility of heart which the Divine original of a Christian life most frequently and impressively inculcated, and practically en- forced, in every circumstance of His earthly career, from the * Eccl. X. 15. kii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF lowliness of His birth to the infamy of His crucifixion. The Abbe Mac Carthy's sentiments upon this subject, as well as upon a variety of others, are so forcibly expressed in a rule of life which he drew up for himself, immediately on his elevation to the priesthood ; and his character is so faithfully mirrored in them — for he always observed the precepts here laid down, with the most rigid exactness — that they are entitled to especial no- tice. Under the head of " Humility," he observes — " This is not wisdom descending from above, but earthly, sensual, devilish — James iii. 15. It would be vain and useless to renounce " earthly" wisdom — which is avarice, and " sensual" wisdom, which is the gratification of the passions, without also renouncing " devilish" wisdom — which is pride. And this vice of devils is, perhaps, the most fatal danger that a priest can encounter. It is less dreaded than any other ; because it is not incompatible with praiseworthy actions, and it frequently inspires the performance of these actions. An ecclesiastic may be con- tinent, grave in demeanour, and faithful in the discharge of every duty, from mo- tives of pride ; he may preach, convert sinners, and distribute alms, through pride ; or at least, it is possible for him to reconcile pride with every one of these actions. Such a person may labour in the work of God in concert with the devil, and promote the work of God and the work of the devil at the same time ; and he may be car- ried into hell by matters which are in themselves sacred, and naturally calculated to lead him to heaven. Yet, it is very difficult to avoid this strange calamity. To do so effectually, a constant vigilance over every emotion of the heart, and a com- plete self-denial, are essentially i*equired. Hence, Jesus Christ has said — If any man will come after me, let him deny himself f If a man will not deny himself, he must seek himself; and for a man to seek himself — to propose his own glory as the motive of any action — is the very fault of which there is question." To avoid the dangerous seduction of self-love, the Abbe Mac Carthy applied himself diligently to overcome every artifice of pride and vain glory. He closed every avenue to his heart against its intrusion. He instinctively shrunk from even the smallest notoriety or applause. He specially resolved that when required to speak in public, he would do so " with simplicity, without looking out for any embellishments of diction — without caring what may be said of himself, provided his discourses were attended with profit to others." In the rule of life, already re- ferred to, he says — " There is nothing which I ought to avoid more carefully than disputations, vain desires of distinction, and all display of wit, learning, or penetration. Ifc is by no means necessary that I should appear learned, particularly in human science ; but it is absolutely essential that I should be humble, modest, simple, and of a character always uniform." So highly did he prize the virtue of humility, that he was ready to sacrifice not only personal feeling, but even the chance * Luke, ix. 23. THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixiii of success in a most important ministerial function, to its acqui- sition . He sought only humility ; he left the rest to Providence. " If it be the will of God that I should bring down contempt and ridicule upon myself when I endeavour to exercise a public ministration, it will be a favour for which 1 ought to bless Him ; for, perhaps, he sees that such is the only means by which I can acquire humility; and it is essential that I should be humble, for other- wise my salvation is impossible." His modesty and distrust of himself were so excessive, that he could not be persuaded that the sermons, which were listened to with the most rapturous admiration and delight by all who heard them, possessed the least merit. He would have abandoned preaching altogether, from a sincere conviction of his incapacity, had not his superiors fortunately obliged him to continue so use- ful a career. That determination was, of all others, the strongest proof of his extreme distrust and depreciation of his own abili- ties ; for no other motive could have persuaded him to relinquish any exertions which may possibly be attended with the smallest advantage to religion. The same feeling of distrust has also de- prived us of many of his best sermons. A comparatively few have been preserved, partly through accident, and partly owing to the orders of his superiors, who wished to have them in an authentic form, as inaccurate and spurious versions had appeared in some periodical publications. He carried this self-diffidence, perhaps, to excess. It was often necessary almost to compel him to preach, from a sincere distrust of his abilities. The slightest praise was most painful to his feelings. Once, when he preached at Toulouse, the present bishop of Limoges, who was then a priest in that city, ventured to commend his sermon, and to express the benefit and gratification which it afforded him ; but his compliments were at once cut short by the reply, ^^ Mon- sieur Vahhe, don't you think but that the devil has told me that, as well as you ?" One of the most remarkable effects of this humility, was his eminent spirit of obedience. The holy founder of the Society OF Jesus, guided by that wisdom from on high which so signally characterized all his enactments, particularly insisted upon that virtue — the first and only one that had been inculcated before its infraction had involved the world in guilt—by the practice of which, upon the part of Him who wiped that guilt away, "many were made just,"* and His glorious name merited to be adored * Kom. V. 19. Ixiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF in the heights of heaven, as well as in the depths of hell * — an unqualified obedience not only of the outward act, but also of the understanding and the will — and pointed out that virtue be- yond all others as the distinguishing feature of his glorious so- ciety ; and seldom or never has any one amongst the brilliant hosts whose names have adorned its annals, attained a higher perfection in that virtue than the Abbe Mac Carthy. His su- periors have often felt themselves humbled at the placid resigna- tion with which he obeyed even their most trivial injunctions. The spirit of deferential compliance which he manifested upon all occasions, may be inferred from one of his letters to the pro- vincial of his order in France, in reply to an inquiry, whether he could preach the Lent of 1825 at the Tuilleries — an employment by no means agreeable to his natural inclinations : — " You ask, my reverend father, whether it would not soon be time to state whe- ther I may be likely to find myself able to preach next Lent at the Tuilleries. I have proposed the same question to myself ; and I feel myself very much embar- rassed about answering it. For, on the one hand, I do not know whether it may please God to grant me the physical and moral strength which is requisite for pre- paring all the sermons which would be necessary ; for this, I would require extra- ordinary aid which I cannot presume to expect, as I feel myself very unworthy of any. On the other hand, I would be ashamed to ask any more time for conside- ration ; and even after a delay, I could not be certain of my ability to fulfil such an undertaking. I therefore beg of you to determine, of your own accord, what is best to be done. It is through you the Lord will make me know His will. It is in His power to give me, this year or next year, according as He pleases, all that 1 have not, and all that I cannot give myself; and I must believe that He will give it to me the more readily when obedience shall point out the course I ought to pursue. Therefore, I shall not decide one way or the other. And you, my reverend father, will be pleased to regulate all with the grand almoner ; I shall exert myself, with all ray strength, to fulfil your intentions, whatever they may be. Success is in the hands of God alone : I can promise nothing on that head. If I might venture to entertain one wish beyond another, it would be that I may be altogether released from this court-preaching. I would then be no longer kept away from our retreats ; I would be really a religious ; I would enjoy some freedom of mind ; I would have my heart enlarged ; bnt I must confess that this great la- bour, to which my abilties are far from being equal, causes me an uneasiness which contracts my heart and enfeebles me for the performance of every other duty. I also feel much grieved at being separated from my brethren. But whatever may come to pass, may God be ever blessed ! May His holy will be accomplished in all things ! I desire nothing more." This eminent spirit of obedience and resignation to the divine will, was eminently conspicuous in the feeling which induced him to enter the holy society of which he was such a distin- guished ornament. The letters which have been already given explanatory oi his views, contain manifest indications of this exalted spirit. A portion of another letter which he addressed * Philipp, ii. 10. THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixv to his mother upon the same subject, and which was not received in sufficient time to be inserted in its proper place, may be ad- duced here, as affording an instance of the obedience and devo- tedness which signahzed him at every period of his career : — *' I have come hither, as you are aware, in compliance with my intention— to consult Almighty God, in this sacred habitation. Well may it, indeed, be called sacred. The little community which it contains holds no intercourse except with heaven, and seems to have forgotten the interests, the concerns, the solicitudes, and all recollection of this world. Here, nothing is heard about revolutions, or political cries, or anything that may be feared or hoped for, according to human calculations ; the only subjects of conversation are, the means of sanctification, of uniting the soul to God, and of attaining that state in which death may be awaited with joy and consolation. Peace and joy in the Holy Ghost seem to be the portion and inheritance of all who are assembled together in this little habita- tion. Calmness is enthroned on every face, and contentment reigns in every heart. No imagination can conceive a more perfect unanimity of sentiment. I cannot describe with what charity, with what consideration for my weakness, I am treated here by every one, from the father-provincial and superior of the establishment down to the lay brothers. But you must not suppose that so many attractions, and so many advantages, could induce me to remain in this institute, without the clear and certain marks of the divine vocation. For, if the strongest ties of nature, and all the affection which you and the rest of my family entertain towards me, and other innumerable gratifications, have not been able to detain me, when I had reason to believe that the voice of heaven called me elsewhere, you must easily feel persuaded that I have determined upon yielding to that voice, and to no other. If it be the will of God that I should serve Him in the Society OF Jesus, I shall endeavour to appreciate the value of the grace and dignity which He thereby confers upon me ; and I shall unhesitatingly obey Him, even at the risk of every sacrifice which most deeply affects my heart. You yourself, my dearest mother, have given me an example of this disposition ; you entertain that disposition still ; and there is no doubt but that God will strengthen you if neces- sary, as I also confidently expect that He will fortify my brothers and sisters ; and that if He separates me from them, in order to devote me to His service. He will abundantly reward them all by such precious benedictions and consolations, as must more than counterbalance the privations which my absence may possibly cause them. But on the other hand, you may feel assured that I will not sever ties which are so legitimate and so endearing, in order to follow a doubtful voca- tion. No effort shall be spared by me to ascertain the will of Him, whom no one can disobey Avithout guilt ; because we belong entirely to Him, and not to ourselves. To follow His Avill, when it is ascertained, will be for me, as well as for you, the most inviolable of all obligations. When I embraced the priesthood, I was fully aware that I thereby devoted myself, entirely and unreservedly, to the service of God and of His Church — that it was no longer competent for me to exist for my«, self, or for my family — but that I ought to hold myself in readiness to go whither- soever the orders of my ecclesiastical superiors, or the exigencies of the people, called me — and that, otherwise, I would be as much to blame as an officer or a soldier, who, when called to the march or to the battle, would answer that he loved his relatives too much to leave them. You are well aware, my dearest mother, that your son would be an unworthy priest, if he preferred his own natural affec- tions to his duty — and if he refused either the burden of the episcopal office, or the duties of a missionary priest or preacher, or the subjection and labours of a reli- gious life, to gratify his own wishes, and to spare himself the pangs of a sorrowful separation. I trust that my love for you, and for all those who are mine, would, of itself, be sufficient to prevent me from yielding to such excessive weakness, and from committing such enormous wickedness. I should fear that I was thereby drawing down malediction upon those whom I would, therefore, love more than God himself; and if death snatched away any one of those who were too fondly / Ixvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF loved, I should ever feel oppressed by the agonizing reflection, that the Almighty employed such terrible means to tear me away from ties which I too fondly che- rished, to punish my unfaithfulness, and to exact by force a sacrifice which I refused to offer of my own free will. I entreat you, my dearest mother — you who have so much faith and piety — to ask but one request of heaven, as you have hitherto done — the entire and perfect fulfilment of its will in reference to me, and to every one of us. I need not remind you, that with such dispositions, we shall infallibly receive the divine benediction ; and, if I may venture to use the expres- sion, we shall be entitled to reckon upon the special protection and the most pre- cious favours of Him, to whose care we should entirely confide our destinies, with a complete indifference as to what He shall determine in our regard. Our God will never be overcome in generosity. If we only confide to Him all care of our- selves. He will do ten thousand times more for us than we are capable of desiring or imagining." This firm reliance upon the counsels of Divine Providence, and entire submission to its most holy will, vt^as another motive of his obedience. Regarding those placed over him as the representatives of that Providence, he obeyed their commands with the same readiness as if they emanated directly from heaven. Where he felt the strongest repugnance, and the severest trial, was when he obtained an occasional exemption from the fast of Lent, or some other austere observance, on account of his infirm health, and the excessive labours in which he was generally engaged during the penitential seasons. In such cases, the first promptings of a soul, ever fearful of the least indulgence to nature's cravings, made him apprehend that leniency was carried too far in his regard. That he might eff'ectually subdue the noiseless suggestions of a timorous con- science, and yield an unhesitating submission of the mind as well as of the will, he had always immediate recourse to fervent prayer, in which he always found his fears dispelled ; and he submitted to these indulgences with the same child-like sim- plicity, as when the act of obedience imposed a rigorous observ- ance, or offered some violence to human feeling. Besides carefully preventing all vain glory from insinuating its poison into his actions, he always anxiously sought to be guided by a pure and upright intention in the performance of every duty. The motive which continually influenced and im- pelled him was, to extend the kingdom of Christ, and to pro- mote His greater glory. To attain this cherished object he felt to be ^.he sole end of his being ; and he regarded all other inte- rests and concerns — all the pursuits which engross the attention of restless and busy mortals — all the cherished cares of interest THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixvii or ambition — with the most complete indifference. This feeling was remarkably apparent in his public preachings. His senti- ments upon that subject may be inferred from what he has expressed in the '' Rule of Life," to which reference has been already made. " The office which is habitually imposed on me is that of a preacher. If I pro- pose my own glory as the object to be attained in the performance of that duty, what will the consequence be ? First — even admitting that I preach well, and with profit to others — I must lose all the advantages, and all the rewards of my labour, by my own pride and inordinate desire. Secondly — I must prepare for my dis- courses, like a profane orator ; I must pay an undue attention to the rounding of periods, to the choice of expressions, to order, harmony, and such other like mat- ters ; ray composition will be less animated and invigorated by the spirit of God ; it will occupy me a considerable time, and, therefore, leave me less leisure for reading, meditation, and prayer, which are the sources out of which are derived ear- nestness, thought, strength, wisdom, and these impetuous emotions of zeal, which are the only flights of oratory that become the pulpit. Another consequence of this must be, that when I prepare my sermons with too much study, I shall be able to pre- pare only a very limited number of them, and I must be in want of many upon most important subjects. Thirdly — I shall be afraid to ascend the pulpit, when- ever I may happen to be imperfectly or badly prepared ; I will not venture to use the language of an apostle, lest my reputation as an orator may suffer from it ; or if I be obliged to venture occasionally upon the use of such language, it will not be with the confidence of a man who speaks commissioned by God, but with the timi- dity of an actor, who appears trembling upon a stage, where his only object is to gain applause." Perhaps there was no feature of his character more marked or more attractive than this strict purity of intention and stern exclusion of all vain glory. It forcibly impressed even the infi^ dels of France, whose hatred for all that appertained to religion was so deadly and intense, and who always regarded a Jesuit with peculiar execration. Many of them frequently bore most flattering testimony to the purity and uprightness of his motives and character ; and many others seemed no less awed by the grandeur of his humility, than they were confounded by the brilliancy of his withering invectives against their mischievous theories. This purity of intention, and direction of all things to the greater glory of God, is the surest source of real and sincere kindness of disposition ; and never was this kindness more marked and endearing than in the Abbe Mac Carthy. Be- nignity of heart was naturally predominant in his character ; and this affectionate disposition, consecrated and ennobled by the purest motives of Christian charity, adorned every action of his life with that captivating charm which endeared him to Ixviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF all who had ever known him. The quaint but expressive words of an ancient writer may be peculiarly applied to him — " In his great benignity, sweetness, and clemency, he is past compare — humane to all kinds of people — without the least pride ; so full is he of great benignity, sweetness, and love, that God demonstrates it even on his countenance to such a degree, that he has so singular a grace of Divine Providence, that all people who see him, whether stranger, prince, or others, become in love with him, and are rejoiced in his presence."* The emi- nent modern historian who has chronicled the vicissitudes and achievements of the great order to which the Abbe Mac Car- THY belonged, observes of him, that " he elevated his virtues to the sublimity of benevolence."t That virtue shone con- spicuously amongst the many perfections of his generous and exalted nature. A friend, who knew him intimately for years, declares his inability to do justice to the Abbe Mac Carthy's character in this respect, as well as in many other particulars :— " I cannot describe, and I will not be able to express adequately, how obliging and generous his dispositions were — how delicate and refined his feelings were in the exercise of his kind offices — how ingenuous he was in rendering service to others — how he ever forgot himself, and set no value on his own exertions when he applied himself either to relieve the necessities, to alleviate the affliction, or to promote the happiness of his friends — how feeling and compassionate he was, or how tender and delicious were the effusions of his heart in friendship. My heart is still moved, and my eyes are dimmed with tears at the recollection of all this ; and the recollection is far more bitter and excruciating now, when I feel that we have lost him for ever." While he was but a mere boy, this generous spirit was mani- fested in the attention and care which he paid the servants in his family. He instructed them ; he visited them in their ail- ments, and afforded them all the relief and consolation that was in his power. He attended one of them, in particular, whose face had been wasted by a hideous cancer, which rendered him a most loathsome object ; and, while the poor creature was uni- versally shunned, his young master constantly visited him, sup- plied him with nourishment and medicine, and consoled him by his advice and exhortation, until death put an end to his suf- ferings at last. When the Abbe Mac Carthy lived among the Society of Jesus, he was unwearied in his attendance upon such of his brethren as were afflicted with illness ; and on his * Christine de Pisan. Liv. 11, chap. xv. t Histoire des Jesuits, par J. Cbetinau Jolt. THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. IxiX return, after any absence, his first care was to visit the sick. Even the enemies of rehgion have often experienced his affec- tionate kindness. Amongst his class was Barthes, one of the most eminent physicians that France has ever produced, so that the medical school which he estabUshed in a provincial town ac- quired an European celebrity. During the tedious illness which preceded the death of this eminent but unfortunate individual, his obdurate infidelity baffled the zeal of the most eminent clergy of Paris; but the mildness and charity of the Abbe Mac Carthy, though he was very young at the time, and had not entered into holy orders, reconciled him to listen with atten- tion to his advice and exhortation, when the like kind offices from another would experience no' better return than rage and derision. The account which the Abbe Mac Carthy gives of his first interview with Barthes in his illness is painfully interesting. " I have been to see Barthes ; and he has filled me with deep compassion. His paleness and emaciation are really frightful. He burst into tears the moment he saw me. The manner in which he spoke of his afflictions, his sufferings, his fears, his anguish, and despair, would move the most unfeeling heart to pity. His physicians have just discovered that his disease is mortal. The announce- ment of this intelligence has fallen upon him like a thunderbolt. He violently complains of the injustice of Fate ; he says that he is condemned to a death of the most excruciating torture ; and he madly asks, whether he has deserved to endure such torments, after having consecrated his whole life to the service of his fellow- men? The least word makes him break out in a desperate fit of rage. He is dissatisfied Avith heaven, and dissatisfied with all mankind, and despairingly ex- claims that heaven and earth have both alike abandoned him. Oh ! how awful are the last moments of the infidel ! He has received my visit with such evident marks of emotion and thankfulness, that I feel it a duty not to abandon him in his present deplorable state." He attended him to the last, and left no effbrt untried to bring back his wandering spirit to the faith he had so long ab- jured. There are grounds for something more than hope that his exertions were not unavailing, and that even the deep-rooted obduracy of years yielded at last to the united influence of charity and friendship. Respecting his charity towards the poor, the same friend from whose notice some selections have been already made, observes: — " So good a heart could not fail to be compassionate and charitable towards the poor and the unfortunate. His alms were abundant ; and 1 am certain, that he often carried his benevolence so far as to impose severe privations upon himself, in order to relieve the needy. He often rendered them services which could not be expected from any one of his age and rank. I know that, upon one occasion, he devoted himself, through charity, to the service of a poor woman, oppressed with fatigue and old age ; and that he caused himself so much trouble and fatigue in assisting her to remove a load of fire-wood, that he contracted a weakness of the loins, from which he never perfectly recovered to the day of his death." bjX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF The spirit of charity which he exercised towards the wants of others, extended also to their frailties and infirmities. He carefully refrained from the least expressions of severity or teproach, always preferring to win the heart by mildess, even when rebuke seemed too well merited. His character in this respect cannot be better delineated than in the very words which he himself employs in reference to St. Francis de Sales, in a panegyric of that saint, which has been omitted from the present collection, as it appears imperfect in the original. When the congenial spirit of the Abbe Mac Carthy describes the mild- ness of that great saint, he unconsciously draws a portrait of himself, as true as it is engaging. " It would be a very erroneous notion of Christian piety, to regard it as an austere and rugged virtue, like the arrogant rigidity of certain sages in ancient times. The Divine Author of Christianity was meek and humble of heart. He concealed His power and majesty, that mercy and goodness may alone appear; every word He uttered, breathed compassion and love ; and all His actions were so many emanations of benevolence and kindness. He called to Him the afflicted, that He may alleviate their anguish, and the sick, that He may heal them, and sin- ners, that He may forgive them. He encountered insults with patience, and rage with the strongest proofs of tenderness and affection. He wept over the perfidious Jerusalem; He embraced Judas ; He pi'ayed for His enemies; His whole Gospel is a code of clemency and charity. He told His disciples that He sent them forth like sheep into the midst of wolves ; He instructed them to love their enemies, to bless those that cursed them, to do good to all, to imitate their heavenly Father, who maketh His sun to shine upon the good and the bad ; He taught them, that blessed were the meek and gentle, for that they shall see God. *'And who has ever more thoroughly understood, or more faithfully practised these divine lessons, than this great saint ? Has he ever been surpassed in mildness and clemency towards all mankind ? This virtue has been his peculiar and dis- tinctive character to such a degree, that the very mention of it at once recalls his memory. It was by the attractive charm of his mildness, more than by the power and eloquence of his discourses, that he triumphed over the obstinacy of so many heretics. Others could refute their arguments, and convince their judgments, as well as he ; but as the celebrated and learned Cardinal Du Perron observes, he alone possessed the talent of converting them. For, the beginning of man's errors, as well as of his passions, is always in his heart. The victory remains undecided until the heart is won. How many infidels ai'e consdous that the doctrine of infi- delity is downright falsehood at bottom ! How many sinners inwardly condemn their disorders ! But men love these docti'ines of whose weakness they are so firmly persuaded, and those vices at which they blush in secret ; they are provoked against us, and they hate us, for our invectives against these cherished idols ; and it often happens, that in order to stifle the remorse which we have awakened Avithin their souls, they plunge deeper and deeper into the dark abyss. Oh ! if we only knew how to insinuate our doctrines mildly into the souls of our hearers — if we could but speak that tender and touching language which conciliates favour for truth — inspires a love of virtue, and makes the sinner deplore his misery — our success would be far different from what it is at present. Such was the art of him to whom we now refer. He was not satisfied with demonstrating to his hearers, that they erred ; but he convinced them still more forcibly, that they possessed in him a merciful father, and a faithful friend, who was ready to lay down his very life for their sakes. The tenderness of his charity was legible in his features ; his voice sunk deep within the recesses of the heart; and the feeling tenderness of THE ABEE MAC CARTHY. Ixxi his words subdued the most obstinate and rebellious spiiits. Those who would have withstood reason yielded to love, and readily acknowledged themselves subdued by so much mildness and benevolence. At the repute of his condescension and kind- ness towards sinners, men who had grown old in wickedness, who had long main- tained a painful struggle with their consciences, and who felt it impossible to make a declaration of their guilt, were seen to crowd around him. They felt inspired with confidence at the sight of him ; thev revealed their most alarming wounds to such a charitable and compassionate physician ; they never feared to feel such a merciful hand extended for their recovery ; they received the life-saving remedy of penance with joy and consolation ; and they returned, filled with gladness, and blessing the man who had reconciled them with heaven and with themselves. " It would be impossible to enumerate all the wonders which he achieved by the magic of his mild demeanour. The serenity of his visage often calmed the angriest storms of passion, appeased seditions, extinguished hatred and ill-will — forced the dagger to drop from the assassin's hand — dispelled dark suspicions and corroding' anguish, and effectually brought back to piety souls who were still worldly, and who concluded, from seeing him, how great must be the delights of virtue. The peace of the Holy Spirit was enthroned within the sanctuary of so pure and calm a heart; from this it shed its tenderest light upon his countenance, and his whole exterior ; it imparted an evenness, a moderation, a benignity, and a gi'ace to every gesture and action, and arrayed his whole person with a beauty rather heavenly than human, from which it was impossible to withhold the tribute of reverence and love ; so that the words of the prophet may be applied to him — that he would proceed prosperously, and gain the victory, and reign at last, by his comeliness and beauty. Specie tua et pulchritudine tua intende, prospere procede et regna.* " From his earliest childhood to the close of his days, he was never seen moved by anger ; nor was even an unmeasured expression ever heard to fall from his lips ; neither was he ever hurried into the least indication of impatience or ill-humour. Neither importunity, nor contradiction, nor bad treatment, nor imperious language, nor revilings, nor calumnies, were ever capable of making him feel the least resent- ment, or of disturbing, even for a moment, his unalterable repose. And do not imagine that this extraordinary patience arose from a want of courage ; for in th6 words of one who knew him well,f ' There never was a disposition so mild, so courteous, so generous and affable, as that of this blessed father; and there never was a spirit bolder, more generous, or more powerful in enduring fatigue and labour, and in carrying out the enterprizes with which God inspired him.' As the best fruits grow more soft and tender as they approach maturity, his disposition grew even milder as he advanced in years ; so that in his old age he was reproached with having carried his spirit of indulgence to excess. Here would be the oppor- tunity of describing this man who was so mild — this pastor who was so charitable and compassionate, in the middle of his flock. — displaying to them a countenance ever serene to attract them, and arms ever open to receive them — calling them by their names, supporting the weak, bearing up those who had fallen, following those who had gone astray ; healing those who were wounded, languishing, or dis- eased — lavishing consolations and favours upon all the objects of his care — ever unwearied by their wants and importunities, which were incessantly renewed, even as a mother is undisturbed by the cries and tears of the infant at her breast. Oh ! incomparable mildness ! Oh ! virtue, which is indeed the fruit and flower of every other perfection ! Oh ! moderation, which can only be found in a heart dead to itself, and to all things else, and transformed into the mildness of the heart of Jesbs Chbist himself." As far as this benignity and mildness may be acquired and promoted by the heart being " dead to itself, and to all things else," and released from all inordinate attachment to the or dinary objects of its most cherished predilections — a disposition * Ps. xliv. 5. t St. Jane Fkances db Chantal. Ixxii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF which the Abbe Mac Carthy here regards as the surest foun- dation of that demeanour which peculiarly distinguished our Divine Saviour — he carefully refrained from attaching his heart to any objects save the promotion of the glory of Him in whom alone he lived, and moved, and had his being. The rule of life already referred to, as a faithful transcript of his feelings and dispositions, bears testimony, not only to the estrangement of his heart from the vanities and folhes of the world, but also to his disregard for all temporal interests and concerns — even for those which are most legitimate and reasonable. " I ouglit not to mix myself up with temporal affairs, only as far as necessity or charity may compel me. Nemo militans Deo implicat se negoiiis secularibus.* As far as I am personally concerned, I must be content Avith what is barely neces- sary for my support ; and, with regard to my family, every ambitious design for its elevation, or for the promotion of its fortunes, is strictly forbidden me. It is enough for the dead to bury the dead ; it is enough for the children of this world to labour for the interests of the world. By becoming a minister of Jesus Christ, I have been released by that Divine Master from the cares and the anxieties of this world ; and to engage in them ever again, would be an exposure of myself to almost inevitable ruin." This spirit of detachment from earthly concerns is still more apparent, from the rules which he laid down for his guidance in reference to the conduct which he thought proper to pursue towards his relatives. Conscious of the force of his partialities towards them, and fearing that the impulse of his affections may lead him beyond the sphere of his duties, to sympathize too deeply in their views and designs, he resolved to exercise a vigorous control over his natural and cherished instincts, and to subdue their suggestions when they interfered with the due fulfilment of his mission. " Si quis venit ad me, et non odit patrem suum, et niatrem, etfr aires, et sororeSf adhuc autem et animam suam, non potest mens esse discipuhis.f The meaning of these words is unequivocal. Whilst we preserve for our relations the love which God permits and even prescribes that we should entertain towards them, we ought — we, ecclesiastics, are obliged — to renounce and to abjure those feelings of flesh and blood which enfeeble the soul, and deprive the minister of God of the liberty to serve his Master. The complaisance and the attentions which our relatives expect from us, make us too often the slaves of their weakness and caprice. If we do not strengthen ourselves against such a dangerous influence, that we may not afflict their tenderness, at least, we neglect essential duties ; we are slow in the * "No man being a soldier to God, entangleth himself with secular business." — 2 Tim. ii. 4. t " If any man come to me, and hate not his father, and mother, and wife, and children, and brethren, and sisters, yea, and his own life also, he cannot be my disciple."-— Luke, xiv. 26. THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxiu performance of those good works which are either laborious in themselves, or expose us to some danger ; we remain in the society of oar families, or, when we are absent from them, our usefulness is considerably impaired ; we are too cautious about exposing our health to danger ; we contract sensual habits, whilst we are not even aware of the fact ; we adopt maxims which are half worldly ; and we very soon become little better than salt which has lost its savour, and which is good for nothing any more, but to be cast out and to be trodden upon by men.* Our rela- tives must learn, then, that we belong neither to them nor to ourselves ; they must regard us as soldiers enrolled in the service of a great prince — as labourers ■who have hired their time, their exertions, and their energies to the Divine Father of the family, and who are, therefore, unable to dispose of anything unless for His service, and according to His commands. As we cannot act with freedom, and sever such natural ties without causing the same amount of sorrow which we our- selves experience — and as these sacrifices are, nevertheless, indispensable — Jesus Christ distinctly assures us, that to be His disciples, we must carry our firmness and rigour even to the length of entertaining a kind of hatred for those who are dearest to us, and for ourselves also. Qui non odit patrem suum et matrem, et fratres, et sorores, adhuc autem et animam suam. And what pretext can we cling to after such au assurance as this ?" And yet, while he observed these truly heroic resolutions with the utmost rigour, there never was one more tenderly attached to his relatives. The memorable letter on the death of his brother, is a splendid monument of this attachment ; and his correspondence with various members of his family, furnishes equally affecting proofs of the same feeling. It cost him many a hard struggle, and many a bitter trial, to leave them; but, however violent the conflict between nature and grace — between the suggestions of affection and the call of heaven — he never hesitated for a moment, and never faltered when the divine will became manifest in his regard. The feelings of devotion by which he was animated, may be better inferred from the facts already stated, than from any description or detail. No description could convey an adequate conception of their intensity and fervour. A spirit of ardent piety, such as it has seldom been given to mortal hearts, shed its ennobhng influence upon every action of his life, from his earliest childhood to the last glorious scene of his departure, which the mists of death could not cloud or darken. His deep devotional feeling was manifest in the most trivial and ordinary actions — in the occasional relaxations of social intercourse — in his conversations, which, though ever cheerful and interesting, breathed a most ardent devotion — in his sufferings from infirmity and fatigue — in persecution and exile, as in quiet and repose — in his public ministrations — amid their distracting cares, as in * Matt. X. 13. Ixxiv BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF the seclusion of religious retirement, where the vexed spirit, wearied by the toilsome and troubled paths of life, finds its yearnings after the eternal source of all happiness so boun- teously appeased, and where it enjoys that repose, and content- ment, and peace, which the world cannot give. The friendly hand which sketched his early career, bears testimony to the spirit of devotion which actuated him at that season of life, when virtue and religion most commonly maintain their feeblest ascen- dancy over the infirmities of nature. It is quite certain that friendship has not drawn an exaggerated picture, or applied too high a colouring, in describing that piety, of which even the most vivid descriptions are but faint and languid, when compared with the reality. " I have hitherto referred only to his youth ; and -n-hat sincere and ardent piety, unvarying and unchanged, without the least alternations of fervour and remissness, characterized him ! His faith always particularly struck me. It made a greater impression upon me than all his other virtues. It was so strong and so intense, that after hearing him once, you would be ashamed to doubt or hesitate, even for a moment, respecting these truths of revelation which are most inacces- sible to the human intellect. When he spoke of the things of God, he irradiated the mind with the light of divine truth ; whilst, at the same time, he invigorated and inflamed the heart with its genial warmth. How often have I not said within my own mind, after spending some time in his society, ' Nonne cor nostrum ardens erat in nobis dum loqueretur ?' I must confess that his conversations have been more profitable to me — they have entered far more deeply into my soul — than even his most eloquent and beautiful discourses. *' What 1 have to add cannot seem strange or surprising. The world, in which his birth and station obliged him to mix, could never tarnish the angelic purity of his morals. That purity seemed to shed its lustre over his features, over his familiar intercoui'se, and over his whole person. It was impossible to associate with him, and not feel its salutary effects ; and, I am firmly persuaded, that no one could continue in his society for any time, and retain a corrupt heart. He had a great many acquaintances in the city ; but they were all virtuous friends, who, for the most part, learned from him the secret, which has become so rare in our days, of combining the courtesies of refined society, and the pleasures of social inter- course, with the obligations of religion and the most simple and ingenuous observ- ances of a tender and solid piety. But upon what details have 1 ventured ? I have undertaken to give a brief outline of his virtues, and the qualities of his heart ; and this would require a lengthened treatise, which want of time, and my present narrow limits, forbid me to attempt." The fervour of devotion which adorned his youth continued to adorn his maturer years. Year after year his union with God seemed closer, his zeal more ardent and untiring, his recol- lection more absorbed, and his prayer more unearthly and in- tense. Respecting his spirit of prayer, another biographer, who was also favoured with his acquaintance and friendship, observes : — THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxv " His chief occupation, and that which was most important in his eyes, was prayer. Any oue who saw him reciting- the divine office, or at the altar, when offering the holy sacrifice of the mass, would have believed that the Divine Majesty was visibly present to his eyes. Jesus Christ, in the adorable sacrament of the Eucharist, was the object of his most fervent devotion. He spent a con- siderable time before the tabernacle every day ; and even by night, upon some oc- casions, he interrupted his sleep to visit his divine Master, mysteriously present on the altar ; and most signal graces were the reward of his faith and fervour. From his earliest childhood, he professed a tender confidence in the Mother of God. He always regarded her with the most filial attention and devotion. He loved to make her an oflFering of his vocation to the ecclesiastical state and the religious life. It was with feelings of religious gratitude he recollected that he had celebrated his first mass under her auspices, upon the day when the church honours the mystery of her visitation, in a temple, and in the midst of a society of holy virgins, consecrated to her service. One of his most agreeable consola- tions was, to speak of the Queen of Heaven, and to defend or to propagate devo- tion towards her in his public discourses." Abundant evidence of his devotion towards the Mother of God will be found in the present volume. The *' Sermons, re- lative TO the Blessed Virgin" indicate an ardent and truly Catholic spirit of devotion towards that blessed Mother, whose advocacy and protection the sinner has never sought in vain. They exhibit the beauty and blessedness of that consol- ing doctrine which teaches our frail mortality, whilst it beholds the light and favour of a father's countenance, amidst all the splendours of the divinity, and is privileged to recognize that divinity clothed in human form, as the first-born amongst many brethren, made like unto His brethren in all things, that being compassed with infirmity, He may compassionate the ignorance and errors of our kindred clay — whilst it adores the infinite con- descension the of Deity, in abasing itself to so close and endearing a relation with our . rebellious nature — also beholds that morta- lity untarnished by its primeval defilement, preserved from its infirmities, adorned with the most precious benedictions, and elevated to a glorious union with the Godhead, by the ineffable privilege of the Divine maternity, that sinful man may ever find a mother's heart ready to receive him, and a mother's love to plead for his transgressions. Regardless of the perverse malig- nity of those misguided beings, who imagine that the Son of God is honoured by dishonouring Her whom He honoured and obeyed — to whose mischievous assaults upon His faith She has ever been terrible as an army set in battle array, crushing their po\^^er as She has crushed that serpent's head which devis- ed their theories— and despising their usual reproaches, which they bestow upon every mark of respect towards the Mother Ixxvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF OF God, the Abbe Mac Carthy proudly asserted her claims to veneration, with an ardour of filial attatchment, and a depth of veneration, which often compelled the infidel and the scoffer to wish that they felt as he did, and inwardly reproach them- selves for having embraced the sapless and barren fancies which left them without hope or consolation. He obtained the con- version of many infidels through the intercession of the Blessed Virgin ; he contributed much to maintain that devotion to our blessed Lady, which has actuated so many in France, even amid the wildest excesses, and the darkest irreligion, through which that country passed ; and it is not too much to say, that his influence is felt even now — that he has co-operated largely in laying the foundation out of which sprung that glorious confra- ternity in honour of the immaculate heart, whose sympathies have been so miraculously exerted in our own days, and almost before our very eyes. Such have been the leading characteristics of that great and good man. Drawn from very imperfect materials — from tra- ditions feebly echoed from a country far away — from hurried and fugitive sketches— and rudely shaped into their present form by a feeble and unpractised hand — the description must fall very far short of the reality. Even one who has been inti- mately acquainted with the Abbe Mac Carthy in his later years, as if overpowered by the magnitude of his perfections, declares the impossibility of describing them in all their force and reahty. *' "We are not able, and it will never be possible to draw any more than a very faint picture of the splendid character of this celebrated individual — the marvel- lous combination of extraordinary abilities with extraordinary modesty — the grace and dignity of manner, and, at the same time, the simplicity and amiable freedom which adorned his intercourse with such attractive and fascinating charms — that engaging conversation, in which, as it has been observed of Fenelox, he seemed to endow those in his society with a portion of his own spirit — that charity which was forgetful of every disparity and distance in age, in birth, in merit — which ex- tended its benevolent concern to all without distinction, and which manifested the strongest interest and affection for all who came within the sphei'e of its influence — that piety, so unaffected and so ardent — that faith, so rigorous and so profound, which was, as it were, the soul that animated all his actions, and bore him aloft over every sacrifice and every trial, even to his dying hour." The wonderful results which attended his preaching, must be attributed to the influence of his apostolic spirit and character, rather than to the exertion of mere oratorical ability. He must be regarded as a mighty instrument, raised up for a peculiar THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxvil and distressing emergency, and endowed with a might propor- tioned to the ascendency which the powers of darkness had gained, and not a mere orator, well versed in the resources of an art, too often perverted to corrupt and ignoble ends. His was the true eloquence of the soul, gushing from a heart full of divine charity, and overflowing of this very abundance until it bore away the hearts of all who came within its influence. He was eloquent as the prophets were ; his eloquence was kindled by the same breath which inspired their soul-stirring eff'usions. He was eloquent as the apostles were ; with the examples of the DIVINE Master brought before his eyes, and His divine precepts filling his heart, he revealed the wondrous things of God, even to the sceptic and the scofffer, as they revealed them to the in- credulous Jews and unbelieving Gentiles. He was eloquent as many other holy men who, in every age, have kindled that fire which the Lord Jesus came to cast upon the earth, and main- tained its fervour, and spread its conflagration, even when faith seemed to be extinguished, and charity to have grown cold. It may, therefore, be out of place to subject his great performances to the scrutiny of profane criticism. Yet, viewing his eloquence as an abstract power, employed as a subordinate agency in a great and divine work, it is of the very highest order. His contemporaries, although generally more disposed to submit his performances to the judgment of posterity, than to pronounce an opinion which may seem tinged by the partialities of friendship, and by the admiration which his recent presence had excited in public estimation, have, nevertheless, been unani- mous in assigning him the first place after the three great lights of pulpit eloquence in France ; and many of them question his inferiority even to these. One of the most recent critics of that country says — '' The Abbe Mac Carthy deserves to be placed in the foremost rank of our great preachers. Never has extem- poraneous speaking been sustained so brilliantly, or in a manner so worthy of the traditions which Christian antiquity has pre- served of its sacred orators, as it has been by him."* He may have been inferior to Bourdaloue, in the overpowering energy with which that great logician enforces, and the copious variety with which he illustrates every argument. It might be * Lefbanc — Histoire elementaire et critique de la literature.— Paris, 1845. Ixxviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF that he yields to Massillon in varied and minute acquaintance with the subtle workings of the heart, in the masterly skill with which that prince of preachers unmasks its delusions, in the dig- nified energy with which he silences the sophisms of human pas- sion, in the deep, searching, philosophic force of his appeals, in the sublimity with which he reveals the joys and terrors of worlds unseen, in the captivating graces of his unrivalled diction. It is likely, too, that he has not equalled Bossuet in amplitude and vastness of conception, in the rugged energy, the austere and' intrepid vigour, the all-subduing vehemence, the " learning and wisdom, and showing of the spirit of power," of that master intellect which has so deeply engraven its mighty impress on all its massive and splendid creations, whether history, theology, or philosophy, that each attests the magnificence of the mould, and the purity of the material. But although he has not equalled these great orators in the very particulars in which their respec- tive excellencies chiefly consisted, he possessed a combination of all their perfections, though it might be in a less proportion ; and this combination is a faculty at least not inferior to the pos- sessing of a few exclusive ones in a more perfect degree ; besides, that a remarkable eminence in any peculiar attributes of mental excellence generally implies, and the too earnest cultivation of them induces, an inferiority in others. Such was the case in the present instance. Whilst the effusions of the Abbe Mac Car- THY combined the amphtude of conception, the boldness of outline, and the fiery vigour of Bossuet, with the eloquence, the persuasiveness, and the deep philosophy of Massillon, what they gained by that union was not diminished by the occasional defects of style which obscure the former, nor their vigour attenuated by the too-fastidious refinement of the latter. Whilst they rivalled the resistless logic of Bourdaloue — whom he so closely resembled in earnestness, in vigorous and sustained argument, in practicalness — they were unincumbered by that scholastic mannerism which too often curbed the soar- ings of that great regenerator of the French pulpit. In Bourdaloue, art is often too apparent ; but in the Abbe Mac Carthy its existence can be scarcely suspected. He is also more popular and more natural than his great precursors. His appeals reached the heart directly, unclouded by the mys- tification, and undimmed by the subtilizing refinement which THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxix sometimes impaired their most impressive exhortations. His eloquence may have never blazed out so brilliantly as those greater lights ; but its calm-glowing splendour was no less effec- tive in enlivening the heart, and burning up the dross of human passion. The opinion, therefore, which would place him on a level with those great men, can scarcely be attributed to the ex- aggeration of national partiality. But whatever relation he may bear to them, it is certain that he towers immeasurably above the splendid array of '' preachers of the second order," in whom France has been so prolific — above Flechier, Neuville, Che- MiNAis, Le Jeune, Larue, Poulle, Griffet, Elisee, and even above Fenelon (regarding him only as a preacher), and a host of others — all great and splendid in themselves — all incom- parably superior to the Tillotsons, the Barrows, the Tay- lors, and the other dull, spiritless, mechanical essayists of the English school — all too great and too splendid to admit the de- grading comparison with Whitfield, Wesley, and such other mountebanks of religion, in its most depraved and degraded state ; or the crabbed and acid rhapsodists of the infidel school, of the " ruffian" Knox — all of them great and splendid cham- pions of religion in their day — " each, like Homer's chieftains, with his day of unrivalled triumph, and each seeming to come into the field with the radiance of a guiding deity upon his armed brow" — and seeming little, only when viewed in contrast with the grand colossal proportions of these mighty giants of the elder day, whose matchless abilities have made the French pul- pit the first in the world since the days of Chrysostom and Ambrose. It is yet too soon, after the setting of this great hght, to de- termine what opinion posterity may form of its magnitude and lustre. The public mind of France has not yet sufficiently re- covered from the admiration with which it was filled at his pre- sence, and from regret at his departure, to pronounce an impar- tial judgment upon the extent of his oratorical abilities. One of the most recent opinions respecting these abilities is that ex- pressed within the past year, by the able historian of his order, whose work has been already referred to. " Mac Caethy is the preacher of a period of transition. Everything around him — laws, customs, thrones — all have changed. He alone remains unaltered in his faith, and in the splendour of his eloquence. This extemporaneous Boubda- IXXX BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF rouE, whose intellect superabounds -with ideas, whose soul overflows with eloquence and charity, has drank inspiration at the purest springs of eloquence, and what is better, at those of benevolence. He was the apostle of France under the last Bour- bons, as Xaviebde Ravignan has since become its apostle, under the new dynasty." However, posterity must unfortunately remain destitute of the greater part of the materials on which it may found an ac- curate opinion respecting the Abbe Mac Carthy's abilities as a preacher. For, after all, recourse must be had rather to the testimony of those who felt the influence of these stupendous abilities — to the traditions which are preserved of their effects — rather than to the evidence supplied by the jnemorials which he has bequeathed. It was in extemporaneous discourse he ex- celled. The best judges, and himself amongst the number, have always regarded the sermons which he delivered with no imme- diate or special preparation, to have been superior to those which he prepared most elaborately. Allusion has been already made to the resemblance which he bore to the apo&tolic Bridaine.— Unfortunately, the resemblance extends to the circumstance of there being but few memorials of the brilliant abilities of either. Many of the best sermons of the Abbe Mac Carthy are lost as irrecoverably as the tenth decade of Livy. This loss arose from various causes In one of his letters, the Abbe Mac Carthy mentions, that the multiplied and engrossing duties which he was obliged to perform, prevented him from writing out his sermons perfectly, so that upon examining his papers, after his death, only a few fragments were found of some of his best sermons. At the very outset of his career, we are assured by the friend who wrote the notice of him in the Album Catholique, that many of his sermons were extemporaneous. The following is an ex- tract from an article of that writer's, published in a French news- paper, in the year, 1817 — three years after the Abbe Mac Car- thy's ordination, and about a year before he entered the holy society — when his celebrity as a preacher had only begun : — " They who set up their own abilities as the standard by which they estimate the abilities of others, feel it very difficult to understand how these discourses, or at least very considerable portions of them, have not been written. I have seen edu- cated people ridicule the idea of their being extemporaneous. They imagine that it is impossible to deliver a discourse in the pulpit without the help of books and papers. Perhaps they may abandon these prejudices if they but knew the vast plan of studies which this real orator pursued — his endless and incessant toil, his daily ntieditations, and his unwearied ardour in exercising himself in every depart- ment of science. Three months before delivering a public discourse, is not the time to prepare one's-self for it, as Fenelon observes. These particular prepara- THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxxi tions, let them be ever so elaborate, must necessarily be very imperfect ; and a skilful observer will at once detect their feebleness. It will be necessary to spend many years in forming an abundant store for every emergency. After this general preparation^ particular prepai'ations cost but little trouble." The same writer, in the notice which he penned after the death of the Abbe Mac Carthy, enters more minutely into the circumstance of his preaching without having recourse to the ordinary system of writing out his sermons, or of arranging the substance of them in his mind. *• What a great loss it is, that a man of such extraordinary abilities should have written so seldom, or merely thrown some hurried notes on paper. But this is only the weak side in his splendid abilities. He could not continue to hold the pen ; and this repugnance became in his maturer years, and when confirmed by long ha- bit, a kind of impossibility, a labour almost beyond his physical and intellectual strength. The continual practice of reading and meditation had so enriched his mind, that he was capable of speaking, after very short reflection, upon any sub- ject, with that attractive charm which many of the great cities of France, Piedmont, and Savoy, have experienced for the last fifteen years. There are many of opinion still, that these sermons, which vv-ere so beautiful, have been written. That can be said only of very few of them. A still fewer number have been written, not with his own hand, but by a friendly hand which sometimes gladly volunteered to write them under his dictation. Generally speaking, they have been 'the fruit of his meditations alone. I have heard him say, more than once, that he thought he could best succeed by laying aside what he had prepared, and trusting himself to the inspiration of the moment. ' It often happens,' said he to me, * that when I ascend the pulpit, all my ideas are subjected to some strange confusion and chaos ; and a new plan has often presented itself to me, and became the subject of my ser- mon, in the short interval of passing from the vestry to the pulpit.' But, if I be not mistaken, the chief cause of this inactivity of the hand must be looked for in the very nature of his mind. That continual activity of intellect, that fire which consumed him, must have had a strong tendency to impair his health and to waste and undermine his organs considerably. This Avas what aggravated the weakness of which he complained all his life, and which prevented him from continuing in a standing posture for any length of time. It was the source of that habitual state of exhaustion, from which he escaped only when his soul, moved by the great ob- jects which occupied his meditations, sent forth these outbursts of eloquence in which he seemed to forget his physical weakness.' Mens agitat molem." It would not be uninteresting to explain the nature of this sin- gular feeling, which has, unfortunately, deprived us of so many splendid monuments of sacred eloquence. To convey an accu- rate notion of this feeling is, perhaps, impossible ; but the best explanation that can be given of it, is found in the Abbe Mac Carthy's own words. They are extracted from one of his letters to the Countess Mac Carthy, his mother. " I do not wish to afflict you by stating, that for some time past my exertions have been almost entirely unproductive. I resemble a slave tied to a mill, which he endeavonrs to turn by great exertions, but which he is unable even to move. There is something singular in my nature. I have been remarking it all my life. Ixxxii BTOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF and yet I cartnot comprehend what it is. Doubtless, it must be a dispensation of Providence, to malvC me humble. It is, that I find it next to an impossibility to do anything in anticipation of the future. The very moment for delivering a dis- course must have arrived before I feel myself in a condition to preach it. Until that moment, I have neither the necessary strength nor fervour, nor the faculty of applying myself to the subject. I fatigue and fret myseif in the unavailing effort to lay hold of my ideas, which escape and flutter around me, whilst I am unable to catch or collect them. They do not return to me until the very last moment, when I have scarcely time to give them some shape and form, and to invest them hastily with some sort of colouring. 1 make no progress in my dis- courses, and I cannot venture to employ myself in any thing else during the time 1 spend at them, lest there may be distractions with which 1 should have reason to reproach myself. My time is thus wasted ; and, if I gain anything at all by such unproductive labour, it is, at best, a good penance. It is only in the hope of extricating my mind from this langour and inactivity, that 1 have preached here occasionally since my return ; but that experiment has been attended with no better success than many others of the same kind. If I resolve upon speaking, without committing my sermon to writing, I feel at once the impulse and the power to write it out. The vein is opened — the rush of ideas flows — and I ima- gine that any copiousness of expression or thought I may ever have had returns at once. But when I take up the pen, my ideas are somehow extinguished and absorbed, and my sterility is just the same as it was before. I have spent five months in this very condition at L**** last year; and it is very probable that the very same may befal me this year again. But, after all, provided the most holy ■will of God be accomplished, all is well." During the intervals when his mind was oppressed by these temporary embarrassments, his eloquence was insensibly gather- ing strength for the acquisition of its loftiest triumphs. Having been once engaged to preach at the Tuilleries, he felt himself so beset with this singular aridity, that he could make no prepa- ration for his promised sermon. He remained awake the night before the day fixed for the sermon ; but, all through, he was incapable of collecting his ideas on the subject. He at length communicated his perplexity to one of his superiors, who, know- ing him well, bade him take some rest, and banish from his mind all concern about the sermon ; and, when the hour for preach- ing it arrived, commanded him, by the virtue of obedience, to preach. That sermon was one of his happiest efforts. Even his own humility could not conceal from him the consciousness of its excellence, which he expressed with characteristic modesty. " That," said he, " was the occasion on which I preached with fewest faults." How much soever a careful preparation may contribute to form an accomplished orator — to improve the undeveloped, and to elicit the dormant faculties — and there can be no doubt but that ability in extemporaneous speech, as well as in every other kind of composition, will be ultimately proportioned to the THE ABBE MAC CAUTHY. Ixxxlii amount of care employed in the preparation of premeditated discourses — it is no less certain that unpremeditated speaking is often a distinct faculty from that of delivering language pre- viously written out, or otherwise elaborately prepared. There are many who have gained a high eminence, in sacred as well as in profane oratory, who, although long practised, could not attempt a public address effectively without most minute prepa- ration, whilst an elaborate preparation would be a positive embarrassment to many others. Although the Abbe Mac Carthy excelled in both these kinds of eloquence, his published sermons, however admirable in themselves, are far from being- sufficient to convey an adequate conception of the remarkable excellence of his unpremeditated effusions. Applying, however, the surest test of all eloquence — the effects which it produced — his powers must have been most pro- digious. His chief success, and the chief object of his mission, consisted in vindicating religion from the scarcasms and objec- tions of the infidel. He launched his thunders with such scathing force, that the prejudices of the most obstinate un- believers sunk overwhelmed beneath them, as the angry zealot breathing threats and menaces, sunk overwhelmed before the light of Heaven on the road to Damascus ; and as the regene- rate mind returned to its consciousness after the shock which overthrew the demon of unbelief which was enthroned there, it even found its darkest recesses filled with an overpowering light, and animated with an intuitive perception of the truth and beauty of the religion it abjured before. Many infidels who went to hear him from curiosity, or with a worse intent, felt themselves suddenly arrested by some indiscribable feeling, and the bent of their thoughts and opinions mysteriously changed as his discourse progressed, until they found themselves at length overpowered by a consciousness of the truth and divinity of religion. A single discourse of his has often achieved many complete conversions. Others, more obstinate in their unbelief, and hardened by years of profligacy, but finding their theories shaken by his arguments, consulted him in private, and had all their remaining doubts effectually dispelled. His efforts in the higher arts of persuasion were no less successful. It was an event of ordinary occurrence, when he advocated the claims Ixxxiy BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF of some charity, to see purses of money, watches, rings, and jewellery showered in heaps amongst the other contributions, and cheques for large amounts drawn upon leaving the church, by those who, when bound by the spell of his overpowering eloquence, felt the insufficiency of the donations which they had come prepared to give. The like was often done, too, by those who came determined to contribute nothing. He was eminently endowed with the loftiest perfection of the orator — that of ab- stracting the minds of his auditory from all other considerations save those which he unfolded, and from all other feelings save those which he wished to excite within them, and wielding all their powers and perceptions, as the hand of Omnipotence com- mands the lightnings to come and stay at His bidding.* A dis- tinguished writei't relates of him that " Upon one occasion, when preaching on the happiness of heaven, he raised up the minds of his hearers, and kept them, as it were, suspended aloft, above all material feeling, for more than an hour during which his thrilling appeals continued." It often happened, that after holding this wondrous sway over the minds of his auditory while he spoke, the spell remained unbroken until long after he had concluded. Whole congregations have often remained fixed to the spot in deep and solemn silence, long after the last accents of the preacher's voice had died away ; and it seemed to cost them an effort to bring down their minds from the elevation to which he had raised them. Paris, and the provincial towns of France, are full of anecdotes of the extraordinary effects which his preaching produced — how some imagined they witnessed the terrors of the last judgment or the torments of the reprobate — how others felt as if they were raised, after the mysterious manner of St. Paul, to catch a glimpse of the glory behind the veil, and to hear secret words which it is not granted to man to utterf — how, when he pictured the wickedness of detraction, others again fancied that they heard devils conversing together in detracting speech — how infidels and profligates were struck down to the earth with shame and remorse, in presence of large congregations — how those who had gone to scofF and blaspheme, came away, declaring that they felt awe-struck, as if some angelic spirit, whose existence they before laughed at, or some * Job, xxviii. 35. f Lefrang. J 2 Cor. xii. 4. THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. IXXXV attribute of the Deity which they before denied, was enshrined in mortal form. It would be an endless task to relate all the anecdotes of this description which are so prevalent through France, Piedmont, and Savoy, even to the present day. The sermons in the present volume, although deprived of the grace and animation of delivery, and deteriorated by a most defective translation, v/ill nevertheless be found to contain much that is calculated to produce such effects. In the matchless original they are characterised by a beautiful union of solidity and condensation of thought, with a most attractive grace of diction — by a vigorous and animated logic, clothed in all the luxuriance of an imagination ever fertile in the fairest visions, but severely chastened by a stern rejection of all superfluous ornament. Perhaps the highly argumentative character of these sermons is their most prominent characteristic. Every figure and illustration manifestly tend to bear out the argument pro- posed. They are beautifully and ingeniously interwoven — not presenting any glaring and flashing richness, but throwing out the most striking and impressive portions of the argument into bolder relief — each figure thus raised being an embodiment of a principle or a deduction — and forming such an integral part of the whole argument that they cannot be torn away without dis- arranging its whole exquisite texture. This argumentative faculty is no less apparent in the appeals to the feelings than in the professedly demonstrative parts. Exhortation is conveyed in argument, and argument in exhortation ; or rather argument, instruction, persuasion, appeals to the feelings, are all fused and concentrated into one intense and glowing mass, which bears away all the faculties of the soul with a divine and irresistible influence, while all the obstacles which could impede it, preju- dice, and delusion, obstinacy, blindness, long-indulged and inve- terate passions, are swept away in its rapid and resistless course. The mind is not " led through the painful subtleties of argu- mentation," but it is at once seized in an unrelaxing grasp, and hurried onward to an irresistible conclusion.^ This argumenta- tive character was in a great measure called forth by the exigencies of the times. Before inculcating the great mora lessons which spring from the mysteries of religion, it was necessary to demonstrate the truth of these mysteries them- selves, and to remove the accumulated prejudices which had IxXXvi BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OP been so mischievously propagated against every doctrine of religion at the time that these sermons were preachedr Had the circumstances of the times enabled the Abbe Mac Carthy to dwell more upon the moral truths of the Gospel — to inculcate the duties which it enjoins, and to hold forth the rewards which it promises — to win the heart to virtue, rather than to argue the mind into a belief that virtue is not an empty name — to subdue the soul to tenderness — to elicit the sympathies of charity — to exhibit the intrinsic loveliness of piety and virtue, and the rewards which attend them, even in this world, where they are so much decried — these, and such like topics emanating from such a mind and heart as his — a mind illuminated by the fairest perceptions of all that is grand, and glorious, and attractive in religion, and a heart adorned by the loftiest perfections, and the most amiable and angelic dispositions — must acquire a peculiar force and significance ; and arrayed as they were, in such " beauty of holiness," their very attractiveness must commend them to hearts which would withstand the ordinary influences of religion. But the success of the Abbe Mac Carthy in this demonstrative style of preaching has been so great, that it would be difficult to wish or to expect greater success even in any other. Rather than desire that his talents had been applied in a different direction, we should feel grateful for the treasures he has left us. In the use and application of sacred Scripture, he has been singularly felicitous. His excellence in this respect does not consist in the mere appropriate citation and lucid development of texts ; in judicious allegories drawn from events recorded in sacred history ; in experience gathered from a study of its char- acters ; in the imitation of its splendid imagery — for these are ordinary perfections ; — but he seems to have been thoroughly imbued with the spirit of the inspired writers, to have so assimi- lated his pure and holy spirit to theirs, that he speaks, as it were, out of the very plenitude of the divine inspiration. What he quotes from them seems but the natural expression of his own sentiments. The elucidation of portions of Scripture seems to be exactly as the sacred writers would express the sentiments conveyed in these passages, if they were applying them under the same circumstances. There is something peculiarly sugges- tive in the manner in which he applies and elucidates quotations THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxxvii from holy writ, so that they create within the mind a full con- sciousness of their deep and mysterious meaning, whilst the reader is almost unaware of the expansion which his views have received into the secret things of God. He is filled with a feel- ing akin to that which is caused upon entering the great Roman temple : — " Its grandeur overwhelms thee not. And why ? It is not lessen'd ; but thy mind Expanded by the genius of the spot Has grown colossal." This sentiment is particularly excited by the view which he unfolds into the great mysteries of religion. Enlightened by that spirit of prayer which, as St. Basil beautifully observes, diffuses in the soul a clearness and perspicacity by which one beholds the mysteries of the divine essence — as if the pious author soared, by contemplation, to the very bosom of the divinity, and brought down from thence a knowledge of the august mysteries — as if those stupendous truths which are the objects of belief became objects of evidence to his enrap- tured vision — the clear and famihar manner in which he unfolds them makes the reader almost forget how profound these truths actually are, although he feels at the same time a consciousness that much of what before seemed impenetrable mystery, has become plain and manifest to the new percep- tions awakened within him. This was, perhaps, of all others, the most striking and distinctive characteristic of the Abbe Mac Carthy — To elevate and expand the perceptions of ordinary minds to the contemplation of the loftiest truths, and to impress those truths upon them, to their fullest extent, and in their deepest significance — to make overpowering con- victions spring up within the worst dispositions, often from apparently trivial causes, so vigorously as to root out and displace every lingering germ of prejudice, and every thorny questioning, and all the rank and noisome growth of igno- rance and guilt — the thorns and thistles which are the result of the primeval malediction"^ — to clear all these away at once, by an agency almost unseen ; and to form that waste into a counterpart of his own holy and undefiled existence. His . * Gen. iii. 18. IxXXviii BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE OF published sermons contain many indications of this power ; and amongst these indications, the most remarkable are the striking points of view in which he presents the mysteries of religion, and the light which he casts upon these and all other subjects by his original and marvellous application of the Sacred Scriptures. Amongst the many other excellencies of his sermons, their originality deserves particular notice. New views are con- tinually unfolded upon subjects which might have seemed ex- hausted from having been discussed in every age of the church ; yet, notwithstanding the novelty of these views, they seem so natural that we are surprised they have not occurred to our- selves ; they seem, in fact, more natural and obvious than the views which have become trite from constant repetition. The subdivisions of each subject are also most natural and appro- priate. While they preserve clear and distinct divisions, they never break or impair the unity of the grand design; nor do the separate details in the least detract from the amplitude of the general view proposed in each sermon ; they are like so many separate acts of a great drama, each scene of which is perfect in itself, and yet must be viewed in connexion with the main action ; or like so many separate aisles and chapels in a grand cathedral, every one of which is admirable for its exquisite proportions and peculiar decorations, but all together adding to the amplitude and perfection of the mighty structure, of which each forms an integral portion, and attesting the genius of the architect by the general eifect of the combination as well as by the perfection observable in each minuter detail. With these and' other countless perfections of style, which are traceable in every discourse, the Abbe Mac Carthy combined a most attractive and engaging delivery. The grace and dignity which distinguished him in private assumed a most majestic form in his public ministrations. A general description of his imposing manner is given by one of his bio- graphers. It is much to be regretted that the notice from which it is extracted has not entered more minutely into this as well as into other particulars respecting its eminent subject : " The action of this great orator bore an exact proportion to the excellence of his style of composition. Everything in his outward mien contributed to captivate his hearers — a tall and stately iigure — finely-chiselled features, in •which nobleness THE ABBE MAC CARTHY. Ixxxix of aspect was combined with the most engaging mildness — an animated and intel- lectual expression of countenance — a grave, sonorous voice, whose admirable flexibility attuned it without the least eifort to every emotion — a gesture natural and dignified to a wonderful extent — an unembarrassed freedom and elevation of manner, such as can only be acquired by an intercourse with refined and elevated society — an indescribable and imposing majesty in his whole exterior, which, the very moment he appeared, proclaimed him to be a minister of God ; and through- out his whole delivery, a mixture of ease and grandeur, of earnestness and au- thority, which imparted an irresistible power to every word that issued from his lips." The few persons in this country who enjoyed the advantage of hearing him, are aware that this is no exaggerated picture. In fact, no description could adequately describe, much less exaggerate, the perfection of his delivery. His feeble health, and the infirmity to which he was habitually subject, controlled the vehemence of action into which his zeal may perhaps have led him ; but they helped to impart to it a deeper and more affecting tone of fervour. His physical strength often seemed unequal to the effort of preaching ; but a divine and super- natural power, made perfect in infirmity,* triumphantly sus- tained him ; and whilst his frame seemed almost sinking from exhaustion, the noble spirit within put forth an energy which awed the most obdurate into reverence, and bound the listless as with an enchanter's spell. Solemnity was the most pre- dominant characteristic of his elocution. His voice, though peculiarly low and feeble, was distinctly heard at the remotest parts of the largest churches; and when it sometimes sank almost to a whisper, it thrilled the hearers, and seemed to penetrate their inmost souls. He was rather sparing of ges- ture, but every movement was eminently graceful and dignified. Acute observers were able to detect his foreign birth in his accent and pronunciation. In private conversation he always spoke English with fluency and a correctness of accent which revealed where he had spent his early days. Of that cherished land where he spent his early days, and drew his first breath, he always spoke with affectionate regard. He gloried in the faith and piety which it preserved, untarnished and undecayed, amidst the fiercest trial. And that land, though fertile beyond example in multitudes of the great and good, must ever glory in the eloquence, learning, and piety of one of its best and greatest men. A few may have exceeded him * 2 Cor. xii. 9. XC BIOGIIAPHIOAL NOTICE. in each of the perfections which distinguished him ; the elo- iqilfence of some tnay have soared to a loftier flight ; the leartiiiig of others may have embraced a wider range, and penetrated profounder depths; the piety of some singularly favoured ones may have been more fervent, their zeal more untiring, their charity more iexaltied and intense — for Providence, having given them a greater mission to fulfil, endued them with a power from above proportioned to the magnitude and importance of the duties confided to their care ; — but these hurried and defective pages abundantly demonstrate, that few at any period, and that none in modern titnes, have possiessed sufch a Splendid combina- tion of thes^ great perfections as the Reverend NicttoLAs TuiTE Mac Carthy. SERMONS. «0 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT, FOR THE FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT. " Tunc vidchunt Filhim hominis venientem in nube cum potestate magna et majestate. And then they shall see the Son of man coming in a cloud with great power and majesty." — Luke, xxi. 27. Shall I declare to you, my brethren, without any further hesitation or reserve, what object I wish to attain by ascending this pulpit to- day ? Shall I tell you that being struck with terror at the mere thought of the judgments Avhich God will inflict upon the last day, I must endeavour to transfer that terror into your hearts ; to arouse sinners, as it were, by a cry of alarm ; and, if possible, to rescue them from their fatal lethargy before they shall find it changed into the sleep of everlasting death? Yes — learn it you sinners who hear me — it is not with the view of astonishing your imaginations by unmeaning images, or of producing feeble and transient emotions in your hearts, but with the hope of effecting your conversion and your salvation, that I shall exhibit to your view the most sublime and most awful spectacle that religion can offer to the eye of faith. In the zeal which animates me, I shall lay aside all that timid deference which worldly delicacy conceives it has a right to expect. Charity, itself, shall invest me with all the austerity of the ministry which I exercise ; and although I am not unmindful of that cour- tesy which is due to the sensibility, or even to the weakness, of the great ones of this world — although I may sacrifice it by filling your hearts with anguish and alarm — I will not be sparing of harrowing 2 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. descriptions and awful truths, which, perhaps, are alone capable of inspiring you with a becoming detestation of sin, a salutary disgust for the false pleasures and vanities which hurry you onward to de- struction, and a firm and sincere resolution of leading such a life for the future as may obtain for you a judgment of mercy. Ah ! is it not better to make you grieve for a time than suffer you to perish for eternity ? And would I not be wanting in one of my most important duties towards you, if I delayed to examine whether it be painful to you, at present, to hear what will be so dreadful to endure hereafter ? » Arm yourselves with courage then, my brethren, to unite with me in contemplating this last and fearful scene, the bare thought of which, informer times, filled the deserts with anchorites, and compelled Jerome, though exhausted from w^orks of sanctity, and Hilarion, though emaciated from fasts, and disciplines, and watch- ings, to tremble in the inmost depths of their solitudes. But you may say, perhaps, that whereas every one of us is des- tined to receive an irrevocable sentence, which, even at the hour of death, must decide our fate for eternity, it is that judgment we ought to fear, without suffering our minds to be so much engrossed by the thoughts of that other judgment which will put an end to this world, and be nothing more than a solemn promulgation, and a confirmation of the previous one. It is this question, my brethren, I propose to answer in the pre- sent discourse, by showing you how much the general judgment must add to the severity of the particular one, and by explaining to you how it fills up the measure of the divine vengeance, and effects the complete abandonment of the sinner. Among the awful events which shall characterize that great day of justice, I select three leading circumstances to which I beg to direct your undivided attention : the resurrection of the body, the manifestation of con- sciences, and the final decree which will establish an eternal sepa- ration between the elect and the reprobate. I maintain, first, that the resurection of the body Avill be an aggravation of the unfortunate sinner's punishment ; secondly, that the manifestation of consciences will be an oppressive weight of ignominy upon him ; and, thirdly, that the final decree of separation, which will be pronounced by the lips of Jesus Christ himself, will be the consummation of his despair. My brethren, this is a subject which is well worthy of your attention. You Will shudder more than once at the sight of the awful vengeance of God. I shudder at it myself when I prepare to describe it to you. Let us with one accord implore the grace of meditating upon it now with so much profit that we may never have the mis- fortune to experience its severity. Ave Maria, &^c. I. — In the first place, then, I maintain that the resurrection of the body will be an aggravation of punishment for the sinner. SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 3 Shall the infidel exclaim against the mention of resurrection, like those pagans to whom St. Paul announced the same doctrine eighteen centuries ago ? Shall he inquire how is it possible that the dead can return to life ; and where can they find their bodies to invest themselves with them anew ? This is a weighty and perplexing question in the estimation of our affected sages ; but it seemed so puerile and absurd to the great apostle, that he proudly spurned those who were not ashamed to propose such a question, as stupid and senseless men. Dicet aliquis, quomodo resurgunt mortui, qualive corpore venient? Insipiens !* What other answer could be given with propriety to such an objection ? What ! cannot He, indeed, who is able to give life and take it away, according as He pleaseth, also restore that life again, when the time which He has appointed shall have arrived? Insipiens ! Cannot He who has brought forth the body of man out of nothing, bring it forth again from the dust ? Insipiens ! Oh, folly of the human intellect ! Will the elements of this body be so widely scattered throughout every part of the universe — will they have undergone so many different transformations — will they be blended and confounded with so many elements of a different nature, that even the eye of the Creator himself will not be able to discern or recognize them, or His hand to reach and collect them ? Insipiens ! Must the just man be deprived of his reward, and must the sinner escape the punishment which he has deserved, because God will not be able to discover either of them amidst that heap of rubbish which death shall have amassed ? And must they both escape alike from His anger and His love ? Yet, O great God of heaven and earth ! it is by such difficulties as these, that men imagine they can conquer Thy omnipotence, and confound Thy wisdom. These are the specious reasonings with which they assail the oracles of Thy eternal truth ; these are the foundations upon which they build their theories, in opposition to Thy most awful and most undoubted threats. For our part, O Lord ! we believe, without difficulty, that it is easy for Thee to do what it is • impossible for us to comprehend ; that Thou wilt reanimate, by a breath, what Thou hast created by a word ; and that, because Thou hast declared it, we shall all indeed arise again^\ to receive, every one according to his works. Let us consider, then, how this resurrection will be an increase of punishment to the sinner. Cast into the dark prison of hell, from the moment he heaved his last sigh, he endures inexpressible torments in the midst of those fires which shall never be extinguished. It would seem that his misery has already reached its height; but his entire being does not yet suffer ; his soul alone is a prey to those devouring flames. * " Some men will say, how do tlie dead rise again? or with what manner of body shall they come? — Senseless man!" — 1 Cor. xv. 31. t 1 Cor. XV. 51. B 2 4 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. His body, that other portion of his being, remains insensible and inanimate on earth. His unhappy soul remembers, in the midst of her torments, that companion which had been so dear to her — with which she had been united during the most blissful period of their joint existence. How great was the happiness which she enjoyed in such society ! All her miseries have dated their commencement from the period of separation. She knows that the revolution of years and of ages is destined to bring about a day which is known to God alone — a day on which that union which had been once so agreeable, must be renewed, and shall never more be interrupted. With anxious impatience she longs for that day, when she may at length experience some alleviation of her tortures. This last of days at length arrives ; the stars in the firmament have already lost their light ; the world has been purified by fire ; the sound of the fatal trumpet suddenly reaches to the very bowels of the earth, and summons the dead of every generation to return to life once more. All nature is at once thrown into confusion ; the whole creation is in travail to give birth to the human race, which is to be born anew. The dust of the tombs is put in motion ; the scattered ashes are amalgamated ; the bones are formed and joined together ; flesh covers them at once ; all the bodies of the children of men again appear with all their limbs, but they are as yet motionless and inanimate. At the same moment the souls hasten from their tenements to be united to their bodies, and to restore them again to life. Hell permits its victims to escape. The reprobate soul rushes from her dismal prison, and is transported with the rapidity of light- ning to the spot where this body, w^hich had been the object of so many regrets, and of so much affection, is about to be restored to her. In what condition will she find that body ? Let us consult the sacred Scriptures ; what do we read in them ? That at the last day each one shall reap what he had sown during life. Qii(B enim seminaverit homo hcBc et metet.^ That he who had lived in the corruption of sin, shall never be released from the corruption of death. Qui seminat in came sud^ de came et metet corruptionem,^ Neque corruptio incorruptelam possidebit.X That all mankind must certainly come forth from the tomb, but that all will not be released from its terrors. Omnes quidem resurc/emus, sed non omnes immutahimur .^ That the just shall arise again to a new and eternal life, but that the resurrection of the wdcked will be a second death, worse than the first. Hcbc est mors secunda,\\ That their bodies, by an awful combination of all that is terrible in life and death, will become the living food and never-dying prey of * " For what things a man shall sow, these also shall be reap." — Galat. vi. 8. f " For he that soweth in his flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption." — Ibid, j " Nor shall corruption possess incorruption." — 1 Cor. xv. 50. § "We shall all indeed rise again, but we shall not all be cbanged." — Ibid, 61. II "This is the second death."— Apoc. xx. 14. SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 5 rottenness and worms. Putredo et vermes hcereditehunt ilium;* vindicta carnis impii ignis et vermis.^ If you have ever seen a dead body in the coffin, figure to yourself now that melancholy and hideous object, that livid paleness, those distorted features, that horrible dissolution, those exhalations of death, those worms which gnaw and consume their disgusting prey ; — such is the condition in which this body presents itself to the criminal soul, whose idol it had been, and which she desired with such ardent wishes, and so many sighs, to possess again. Oh, afflicting mistake ! O, unutterable anguish! "What!" she ex- claims, " is this that portion of my being which had been so dear to me — my old associate in my labours and my pleasures — in which I found so much grace and beauty — which I took so much care to decorate — whose inclinations were my sovereign law?" "The very same," replies an awful voice. " Recognize it, and renew that alliance which once possessed so many attractions for you." Alas ! she shudders, she recoils ; she is unable to endure either the sight of this carcass, or the infection which exhales from it ; she desires to plunge again into the depths of the dark abyss, that she may escape from such a destructive union. But an invincible power prevents her escape, and thrusts her forward towards that odious object, to Avhich she must be again united by ties that can never more be severed. In the excess of her anguish and despair, she exclaims — " Oh, wretched being ! thou wert destined to be the cause of what is more intolerable to me than even hell itself! Oh, habitation of infection and filth ! oh, detestable mass of corruption, what terror do you not cause me ! To approach you merely is a dreadful chas- tisement ; what must it not be to enter into you, to dwell within you." Then, making a dreadful application of those words which the prophet had used in a very different sense. " This," she con- tinues, " is the place of my rest, for ever and ever.' Hcec requies mea in sceculum smculi.X This is the habitation which I have prepared for myself, which I have deliberately chosen : this is what I have preferred to my God, to my conscience, to a never- ending happiness ; this is the abominable flesh with which I was willing to identify myself during life. How often have I not de- sired, in the excess of my madness, to be able to change my nature, to divest myself of my spiritual being, and of every privilege Avhich it conferred upon me, that I may destroy myself, and bury myself in this mire. Thus it is, O terrible God, that Thou dost punish me by fulfilling my senseless wishes." Hie habit abo, quoniam elegi eam,^ In the midst of all these groans and lamentations, struggling in * " Rottenness and worms shall inherit him," — Ecclesti. xix. 3. f "The vengeance on the flesh of the imgodly is fire and worms." — Ibid, vii. 19. X Psalm cxxi. 14. § " Here ^vill I dv.ell, for I have chosen it." — Ibid. 6 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. vain against an irresistible power, she enters into this body of death, and again endows it with life, to the mutual torment of both. The flames by which the soul is devoured, communicate themselves in- stantaneously to the body ; they- eagerly seize upon their new victim ; they encircle it ; they penetrate into it ; they rush like a torrent through every vein, through the entrails, through the very marrow of the bones ; and the soul endures multiplied torments from every part of this burning body. How is it possible to de- scribe those eyes, blazing with the fire of hell, and the rueful looks which they cast around on every side — those scalding tears that shall never cease to flow — that hideous mouth, and its horrible gnashing of teeth, which begins, never more to end — that counte- nance, upon which a ray of divine beauty formerly shone, but which, in its monstrous deformity, now bears the resemblance of the very devils — those frightful members, and the intolerable stench of death which they diffuse all around them. Whithersoever this animated carcass turns its footsteps, there is a universal dispersion and flight — as at the approach of some spectre, or disgusting monster. Et erit omnis qui viderit te resiliet a te,* Oh, what a change, my brethren ! Perhaps this was some great man, about whose person, when upon earth, every one was busy to obtain the honour of one of his looks, of one of his smiles. Perhaps this other was one of those who are so amiable in the eyes of the world, who formed the attraction of every society, who was sought after every where, out of whose company no real or perfect pleasure could be found. This was perhaps a celebrated beauty, whose presence was sufficient to attract universal attention, who gloried in captivating every heart, who received incense like a deity. Alas ! what aban- donment, what neglect, what universal manifestations of contempt and aversion, do they not all experience now? Ah! figure to your- selves two reprobates — after a criminal attachment to each other here below— after having sworn an eternal fidelity to each other in the intoxication of their insane passion — meeting each other in such a plight upon the last day. What mutual disgust and aversion ! what reproaches and imprecations against each other ! what anguish and despair at having sacrificed themselves, without the possibility of recovery, to what they can no longer refrain from detesting ! With how great shame are they not overwhelmed by the recollec- tion of those abominable pleasures which had been the object of their guilty union, and the only tie which bound them together ! How furious but how ineffectual is their desire to tear and to de- stroy each other ! Such, then, will be the literal and dreadful fulfilment of this prophetic expression of the Scripture, The Lord Almighty will * " And it shall come to pass, that every one that shall see thee shall flee from thee." — Nah. iii. 7. 4'> SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 7 take revenge on them ; in the day of judgment he will visit them.'* After having brought forth their bodies from the grave, to consign them to a second death, He will send fire into their flesh to burn them, and worms to devour them. Dahit enim ignem et vermes in carnes eorum. And because this fire will never be extinguished, and these worms will never die, these carcasses will live for ever in a condition worse than death, and must experience the horrors of such a dreadful punishment for all eternity. Dabit enim ignem et vermes in carnes eorum, ut urantur et sentiant usque in sem- pcBternum,^ If such a picture makes you shudder, my brethren — if you be tempted to complain, because I have ventured merely to delineate it before your imagination — if you cannot endure the bare idea of it, what will it be to witness the reality? What do 1 say? What will it be if you yourselves, on a future day, afford the dreadful spectacle which I have described ? Oh, ye worldlings, who hear me ! behold the end of these vain amusements ; of these manifold sensualities in which you spend your lives; of these niceties and this refinement upon which you pride yourselves ; of this unceasing care which you bestow upon your persons ; of this slavish subser- viency to your tastes, your appetites, and all the inclinations of nature ; of this eflfeminacy of manners ; of this affectation in dress ; of these scandalous nudities ; of these familiarities, so full of dan- ger ; of these acquaintances which have passion alone for their con- necting link; of this gratification of your own will, in thinking, and seeing, and hearing, and saying, and doing whatever you please ; of this forgetfulness of the holy law of God, and of the dignity of man, to degrade yourselves to the instincts and enjoyments of the brute. This is what St. Paul, in his energetic and divine language, describes as sowing in the corruption of the flesh ; and to all those who shall have sown — that is to say, to all those who shall have lived — in this manner, he proclaims that on the day of justice they must reap, in their bodies raised up to life, corruption and death as their only fruit. Qui seminat in came sua, de came et metet cor- ruptionem.t But those (he adds) who shall have sown in purity of mind — those who shall have led a life of virtue and innocence — will reap a blessed and immortal existence in pure and glorious bodies. Qui autem seminat in spiritu, de spiritu metet vitam (Bternam.^ We, therefore, entreat you to take compassion, not only upon your souls, which you so basely sacrifice to ignominious passions, but also upon your bodies, which you love with such tender and * Judith, xvi. 20. t " For he will give fire and worms into their flesh, that they may bum and may feel for ever." — Ibid. 21. J " For he that soweth in his flesh, of the flesh also shall reap corruption." — Galat. vi. 8. § "He that soweth in the spirit, of the spirit shall reap life everlasting." — Ibid. 8 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. blind affection. Think of that punishment which you are treasuring up for them by flattering them with such cowardly and criminal indul- gence. They are victims which you are fattening for the day of wrath. Alas ! is it not enough that in punishment of the original sin in which they have been conceived, they should be condemned to that first death which is inevitable for all — a death so dreadful from the suf- ferings which accompany it, and the horrible dissolution which fol- lows it ? Will you devote them again, by new voluntary sins, to a second death, infinitely more dreadful — a death whose conse- quences must be eternal ? Will you, then, be the executioners and the most merciless enemies of yourselves ? What answer can you make — you who have yet time to guard against this danger ? Who has promised you to-morrow ? Who can promise it to you, or sa- tisfy you that this very night may not be your last ? Do you ex- pect to find peace of mind in the doubts and objections of the infidel? But what will objections and doubts avail you then ? Will they change the decrees of the Eternal one ? — will they restrain His power ? — will they prevent the fulfilment of His unerring threats ? Persuade yourself if you can, if your madness may carry you to such a length, that the grave is an asylum Avhither the divine vengeance will not be able to pursue you or to overtake you ; but will such a persuasion lessen its power to break open that asylum, to drag you forth from it, to carry you before the tribunal of an irritated Deity, and to consign you to those avenging flames Avhich His breath shall kindle ? Will you feel the heat of these flames less intensely, be- cause you refused to believe in the truth of their existence ? Will you maintain that God is too merciful to make us endure a twofold death ; that one is sufficient for his justice ; and that it puts an end to everything for man ? On this principle, therefore, the same des- tiny must await the innocent and the guilty, the pious adorer and the infidel, the assassin and his victim, the plunderer and the widow or the orphan whom he had despoiled, the oppressor of mankind and the benefactor of their race ; they must all die alike, once and for ever, while neither hope for one nor fear for the other can exist be- yond the grave. On this principle, the chaste and mortified body of the just man, which had been the instrument of a virtuous soul for the performance of good works of every kind — which had, per- haps, been sacrificed by a glorious martyrdom in vindication of the cause of God himself — and the impure body of the sinner, defiled by incests, adulteries, rapine, murder — perhaps by parricide — will be swallowed up in the same tomb, devoured by the same worms, and confounded together in the same dust for ever. No, no ! This cannot be ; all the divine attributes assure me of the contrary ; rea- son convinces me of it no less clearly than faith. The first death is common to all, because it is the expiation of a sin which is common to the whole race of Adam ; but another order of things must come to pass, in which every one shall receive according to the merit of SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. his works, and death will be for the wicked alone, and life for the just alone. And, oh! my brethren, that life and death are very dif- ferent, indeed, from those which bear the same names here below. That life is one whose happiness we cannot describe, and that death is one whose misery we cannot conceive ; never-decaying youth, dazzling beauty, joy ineffable, happiness without alloy or limitation — such will be the new life of the elect raised to glory ; misery and torments without number, devouring and eternal flames, frightful deformity, corruption worse than the corruption of the grave — such will be the second death of the reprobate. Either this life or this death must be your future portion, my dear friends whom I now ad- dress. Make your choice oi one or the other this moment. Time is now afforded you that you may be enabled to avoid one and to merit the other. This is man's great and only concern. Perhaps you are now beginning to comprehend its entire importance. To make you still more sensible of it, I shall continue to describe the events of the last day ; and, as I have already proved to you that the resur- rection of the body will be an aggravation of the sinner's punish- ment, I shall proceed to show that the manifestation of consciences will be an excess of ignominy to him. II. — It might appear that nothing could be wanting to complete the ignominy of the sinner after the moment when the ties of the body were severed, and, after having been arraigned before the tribunal of the Supreme Judge, he has been convicted of his crimes, and branded with the sentence of eternal reprobation. But, how great soever the confusion which overwhelms him may then be, it is un- known by at least the greater part of creatures. Buried with him- self in the dismal darkness of hell, it has no Avitnesses except the wretched beings who are sharers in his sufferings, and God, who necessarily beholds all things. Perhaps the memory of this miser- able man is still honoured upon earth ; perhaps his ashes still repose there in a magnificent tomb ; perhaps histories are filled with his name, and kingdoms resound with his praises. It is only on the day of justice that this phantom of glory will vanish, and leave no trace behind it ; it is only then the sinner shall see himself deprived of even the least remnant of honour, reputation, or regard ; then shall he drain the chalice of infamy, even to the very dregs. Now, my brethren, how disgraceful must it not be to appear be- fore the whole world, dragging along this hideous and impure car- '^^'Po&wjiich makes man an object of aversion to every evc^amlsiiiKiipb imn so^palpa^Iy witKlhe seal of hell ? Yet this is but a very feeble prelude indeed to the humiliations which are to follow. God is about to fulfil the threat which he uttered by the lips of his prophets. *' Perverse man ! thou hast imagined that I would be like thyself, that I would dissemble thy iniquities ; come now, that I may exhi- bit them in the broad daylight, and that I may overwhelm thee with the confusion which thou meritest. Arguam te, et statuam 10 SERMONS FOB SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. contra faciem tuam* I will show tby nakedness to every nation itr "^^-n^s^^- iS£;th;cknrf:|tV Son thee to the ridicule and reproaches f -ery cr^^u^e ; »d in the excess of thy degradation thou shalt learn that 1 am a troa who cannTbe defied in vain. Et contumeliu te afkiam.h Et Jt3ehold this just and tern Die "-- 'T''*^U°^ow thy^'S^aL to the uations, and thy -^^^.^^^^'■^'l.Tf^^^^lt \ " T Tm lay thy ^^y« "P"" fee ; and thy abominations shall be m the midst of thee. - '^r^.'liiS iW cast abominations upon thee, and will disgrace thee, and wUl make an ex- ample of thee." — Nah. iii., 6. , „ t^ i, •• a II " And you shall know that I am the Lord."— Ezech. vu.,_ 4. \ " There are creeping things without ^^^^«^-"-^/^i^«^";-' if' . neither shall I show '* " I wiU lay upon thee all thy crimes ; and my eye shaD not spare , neitaer su mercy."— Ezecli. vii., 8, 9. SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 11 Who will be able to endure this awful manifestation ? Then must the mask of the hypocrite, and all the audacity of the shame- less sinner, disappear together. Ah ! what is this I see ? That man who seemed so scrupulous about honour and probity, who had the names of them every moment upon his lips, who affected so much disinterestedness and integrity in all his dealings, to w^hom every one was anxious to confide a trust, and to consign the dearest interests to his care — that man was an impostor. The honourable reputation which he enjoyed was altogether owing to his duplicity, his artifices, and a villainous combination of sagacious and profound perversity. The whole world must know his villainy, his intrigues, his perjuries, and his plunderings. Ostendam gentihus nuditatem tuam et regnis ignominiam tuam.^ That magistrate who was believed to be incorruptible — who, in a degenerate age, was admired as an il- lustrious relic of primitive integrity and scrupulous exactness — made justice a matter of traflfic in private, and amassed a fortune at the expense of oppressed innocence. The whole world must know that abominable trafiic by which he dealt in the blood and tears of the widow and the orphan ; they will thoroughly see through the base- ness and obduracy of that venal and corrupt heart. Ostenvdam gen- tihus nuditatem tuam et regnis ignominiam tuam. That wife who imposed herself as a model of conjugal affection and fidelity — who concentrated upon herself the undivided esteem and affection of a virtuous and too-confiding husband — was an adultress ; under a most specious exterior, she concealed a hatred of every obligation, a mortal indifference for all that nature commanded her to love, most shame- ful propensities, and habits of a most ignominious character. The whole world must learn the disorders of her heart, its perfidiousness and its profligacy. Ostendam gentihus nuditatem tuam et regnis ignominiam tuam. That young person whose gentleness, piety, and modesty were so loudly extolled — w^ho was so often seen proa** trate in the tribunal of penance, and at the foot of the altars — did not walk in sincerity before the Lord ; she deceived a charitable confessor, and parents who were too blind to her defects ; she abused all that is most sacred in religion, the more effectually to conceal these passions and disorders which she cannot now conceal from the eyes of the Almighty. The whole world must know her shameful weaknesses, her dissimulation, and her sacrileges. Ostendam gen- tihus nuditatem tuam et regnis ignominiam tuam. Thus, shall all hypocrites be unmasked and confounded. But you, shameless sinner, audacious libertine ! who seem to glory in your iniquities —you who bid an open defiance to heaven, and in the effort to shake off all the restraints of shame, deny even that any distinction exists between vice and virtue — you flatter yourself per- haps that it will be easy for you to endure the overwhelming con- * "I will show thy nakedness to the nations, and thy shame to kingdoms. — Nahum iii. 6. 12 SERMONS FOR SUNDA.YS AND FESTIVALS. fusion of that day. What ! have you not also a hypocrisy peculiar to yourself? Have you not your own mysteries of iniquity and shame, at which you are forced to blush in secret, which you stu- diously conceal in the bottom of your own heart, and are unwilling to allow your most intimate acquaintances to unfold. Let us speak in good earnest. Upon those very occasions when you most auda- ciously boast of your excesses and disorders, do you ever tell the whole truth, or exhibit yourself as you really are, without disguise or concealment ? Ah ! if it were the will of God, at this present moment, to lay open to me your conscience from its very bottom, and if he commanded me to relate in presence of this assembly, I will not say the history of your whole life, but merely your actions of such a month, of such a year, of such a day in particular — if I revealed, I will not say all your actions and thoughts since you came into this world, but merely — and mark this well — that par- ticular grovelling and detestable sentiment which you have con- ceived and nourished within your breast, that particular act of trea- chery or baseness which you have committed, that disposition, that propensity which holds you in subjection, that abject, ignominious, revolting situation to which passion has forced you to humble your- self in that particular circumstance — it would be sufficient to make you drop down dead with shame and sorrow. And why speak of your fortitude, you who are the slave of the basest and most feeble pride that can be conceived — you who have not even so much cou- rage as to discover the wounds of your soul, under the most invio- lable of all secrets, to a solitary man, a minister of the charity of God — you Avhose entire unbelief, and aversion to the faith of your fathers, has perhaps no other principle or foundation except the terror into which you are thrown by the bare idea of once confessing your sins, to obtain forgiveness for them in the tribunal of mercy ? What then must become of you at this other most awful tribu- nal, which will hold its deliberations in presence of heaven and earth, when an enraged and omnipotent Judge will make mani- fest, to the despair of your pride, not merely all that you know about your disorders, but moreover all that you do not know, and all that you have forgotten respecting them — when he will awaken those monsters that have been lulled to sleep, and bring to life those w^hich seemed already dead — when he will search and unfold every labyrinth of your heart, and bring forth from it all that you were unable or unwilling to see there with your own eyes — when every ■word that has escaped from your lips during the whole course of your life, every shadowy phantom of your imagination, every secret act of your will, every look, every motion, every desire, every in- tention, every project will be produced again to your confusion — when he shall dissipate every shadow under which you concealed yourself, and penetrate every barrier behind which you sought for shelter, and unfold tlxat leno^thened series of baseness and infamy SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 13 which have dishonoured you in your capacity as a man, and still more in your capacity as a Christian — when He shall bring to light abominations which perhaps paganism would have detested, at which even nature shuddered — when, in this state of abjection, in this deep depravity. He shall exhibit the true cause of your impiety, of your blasphemies, and of this aifected contempt of virtue which you would fain exhibit as fortitude of soul and superiority of intel- lect — when, in fine. He will stamp upon you the pecuhar and dis- tinctive mark of every one of your crimes as so many indelible stigmas — when He shall cover you all over with the filth of your passions and vices, and exhibit you in that condition to the whole world as a spectacle of horror and disgrace ? Et projiciam super te ahominationes , » . et ponam te in exemplum.'^ Now, my brethren, behold the sinner branded, degraded from his inheritance, covered with so many horrible stigmas, and compelled to exhibit himself in such a condition, not in the brightness of the material sun, but amid the dazzling rays of the eternal Sun of Jus- tice — in the light of God, which is nothing else than the reflection of his infinite purity and sanctity — a light which is formidable even to the elect — in which the angels find that they are not pure enough ; it is in the midst of such dazzling brightness that this unfortunate man, covered with confusion as with a cloak,'\- is compelled to en- counter the looks of the most august and most numerous assembly that ever existed, and to stand in presence of all the orders of heavenly spirits and of the triumphant elect. He is obliged to endure the contrast between his own degradation and ignominy, and their glory and splendour. To make satisfaction for his sacrilegious ridicule and derision, he in his turn is forced to bear with their well-merited disdain, and that dreadful hissing of which the Scrip- tures speak, { and that severe and oppressive irony. This, then, is the man who rose up in rebellion against God, who sounded the trumpet, and declared war against the Almighty, who considered us to be so foolish because we relied upon His promises. Let him tell us now that religion is a vain fancy, and that unbelief is wis- dom. JEit super eum ridehunt ; et dicent, ecce homo qui non possint Deum adjutorem suum."^ To the reproaches of the just shall succeed the complaints, the threats, the accusations of the accomplices and victims of his dis- orders. I see them fall upon him from every side, like avenging furies, asking him, in accents of despair, to restore their soul and their eternity, which he had been the cause of their having lost. I hear bowlings and imprecations, which make me shudder. "It is * " And I will cast abominations upon thee, and I will disgrace thee, and I will make an example of thee." — Nahum iii. 6. t Ps. cviii. 29. X " They shall laugh at him, and say, Behold the man that made not God his keeper." — Ps. li. 8, 9. 14 SERMONS FOR SU]ft)AYS AND FESTIVALS. you, vile seducer, plundered me of all that was most precious — my honour and my virtue ; you, by your base artifices, and detest- able passion, have dragged me along with yourself into this abyss of every woe." "It is you, immodest woman, who, by enkindling an impure fire within my bosom, have left me a prey to everlasting flames." "It is you, unnatural father, barbarous mother, have given me the first example of irreligion and licentiousness ; instead of restraining my growing passions, you have, on the contrary, rather hastened their development, and broken off all restraint from them. My reprobation is your work." "It is from you, detestable wife, I have learned such infamous lessons of vice ; by means of an honourable and sacred union, you have laid a fatal snare for my innocence ; our united efforts ought to have been di- rected to save our souls, but you have preferred that we should both perish. See what a husband owes to his affection for you." But who can describe the innumerable multitude of the unhappy reprobates, who rise up enraged against the public corrupters of morality and faith, against the authors and venders of obscene and impious books — against all those who have made science, arts, their talents, their industry, their influence, subservient to the triumph of vice or error — who have opened these copious and inexhaustible springs, at which men of every generation, of every rank, of every country, shall assemble even to the end of time, to carry away, and imbibe in copious draughts, that poison which kills the soul. I see Avhole generations and nations seduced, deluded, perverted, by this heresiarch, by this licentious poet, by this preacher of atheism, madly pursuing the author of their ruin, accusing him of his impos- tures, his obscenities, his blasphemies, and, with loud cries, im- ploring the justice of heaven against that man who indulged in the impious sport of precipitating so many thousands into hell. But among all the voices that are raised against the sinner, the most violent and most terrible is that which issues from his own bosom. Yes ! his conscience, which he had always stifled during his. life-time, which he prevented from groaning or complaining in secret, set free at length, and restored to all its rights, enraged and furious, roars like a lion, and terrifies and subdues him in its turn. This witness which he cannot silence, this inexorable accuser, this furious domestic enemy, audibly relates his iniquities and infamies, through the very lips of the culprit himself, and paints in the blackest colours his hatred of all good, his love of evil, his constant resistance to • the light of his own reason, his invariable contempt and abuse of the divine graces-, his ingratitude and hatred towards the Author of his being. Then it is, that, heaping reproaches and imprecations upon himself — seeing no monster in the whole universe more detestable than himself — not knowing where to conceal his shame — he invokes death and annihilation ; he conjures the moun- tains and hills to fall upon him, and to bury such a mass of wicked- SERMON ON THE LAST»JUDGMENT. 15 ness beneath their ruins. But all in vain ; he must live to see and to detest himself for ever, to bear the intolerable burden of un- bounded confusion and disgrace for all eternity. Evigilahunt in opprobrium^ ut videant semper. Such, then, is the excess of dis- grace which the sinner must endure from the manifestation of con- sciences. In addition to this I have merely to show, in a few words, the consummation of his despair, in the last sentence which the supreme Judge will pronounce. Ill — The Judge has not yet appeared. But from the earliest moments of that dreadful day, has not everything apprised the sinner that he can expect nothing but inexorable severity ? The appalling deformity of that body, which has been restored to him, the rigorous and oppressive manifestation of his most secret iniquities, the confusion with which he is overwhelmed, the aversion which all creatures testify towards him — do not all these announce to him, distinctly enough, what the decision of the supreme arbiter of his destiny must be in his regard ? Has any one of his friends or relatives condescended to feel an interest in his favour ? Has any one of those saints, who had formerly been so zealous for his salva- tion, so deeply affected by his wanderings, so full of indulgence, of charity, of tenderness, condescended even to cast a look of compas- sion upon him? The very sinners who resemble him, and the accomplices of his crimes, have become his most merciless enemies. What do I say? Inanimate nature itself declares war against him. All the elements exhibit a most striking manifestation of their hatred, in a manner peculiar to themselves. The earth groans be- neath his feet, and manifests an impatience to reject him from its bosom ; the sea, swelling beyond its limits, terrifies him with the menacing sound and dreadful agitation of its waves : the sky roars above his head, and presents him with nothing but thunders ; the whole creation conspire to thrust him into hell. Pugnahit eum illo orhis t err arum contra insensatos* In the meantime, the sacred sign of redemption shines aloft in the air, with an agreeable splendour ; but for him alone that sign of salvation and mercy is a signal of reprobation and wrath. He shudders at the mere sight of it. '' There," he exclaims, " is that cross which I have so often insulted and blasphemed, but which now triumphs along with those who have adored it. There is that cross, crimsoned for my sake with the blood of a God — that cross, which ought to be the source of all my hope and consolation, but which now comes to aggravate my terror and despair ! There is that cross, which leaves no excuse for my guilt, which proves the justice of all these torments I endure ! because, though I was marked with its seal by baptism, I have had no other sentiments towards it than those of a Jew and an idolater ; I also have nailed Him, who is * "The whole world shall fight witkhim against the unwise." — Wisd. v. 21. 16 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. about to judge me, to that cross, as well as they have done. What right have I to ask or to expect forgiveness ? The last act of this great and awful tragedy at length approaches. The brilliant cloud, which bears the divine Son of Man, appears in the firmament, and attracts universal admiration. More beautiful than the morning-star — a thousand times more brilliant than the sun — adorned with such glory and majesty as no mortal intellect can conceive — invested with a power, in comparison with which the authority of all the monarchs of this world are as nothing — sur- rounded by myriads of angels, and an ocean of light — the supreme Judge of the living and the dead is seated upon his throne. After a short interval of silence, commanded through respect, shouts of triumph, hymns of joy, loud acclamations of praises, which shake the vault of heaven, ascend from every side. The glorified elect, beholding for the first time with their corporeal eyes, the adorable humanity of THE word made flesh — contemplating that ravishing and ineffable beauty, that countenance, upon which all the perfec- tions of the divinity, with all the virtues of man, are represented — are no longer capable of containing the transports of their joy and love. They exult with delight : soaring aloft at once, like eagles, into the midst of the air, they fly into the arms of their Saviour, and inebriated with heavenly delights, they take their position at his right hand. Meanwhile the sullen, disconsolate, trembling sin- ner, with his eyes fixed upon the dust which he moistens with bitter tears, is thrust along with the vile society of Satan towards the left. There he hears the virtues proclaimed, and the victory celebrated, of those whom he had despised, calumniated, or persecuted upon earth ; he hears the King of Glory, who, in accents full of tender- ness and affection, styles them blessed of his Father, and invites them to share his inheritance, and take possession of his kingdom. Dark envy at all their happiness consumes the sinner, and embitters his punishment. To aggravate his mortification and anguish to the utmost, he recognizes among them the old associates of his guilt, who had returned to God by a sincere conversion, washed their sins in the blood of the Lamb, and to the end of their lives remained faithful to that grace which had reconciled them, and now reign along with that glorious and happy society. He is a witness of the rapture with which they celebrate their passions conquered, their fetters broken, their souls regenerated by penance, their labours, their austerities, their salutary tears, heaven gained at last, and their happiness secured forever, at the cost of such trifling sacrifices. At such a spectacle he is unable to restrain his cries and groans — * ' Ah ! unhappy wretch that I am," he says to himself, striking his breast, and tearing himself with his own hands ; "could not I do what has been done by these others, who had the same propensities, the same prejudices, the same errors, the same habits, and the same vices as myself? Had not I the same lights, the same remorse. SERMON ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. 17 the same graces which have saved them ? Senseless and insane being that I was, instead of following their example, I have made their conversion the subject of my foolish and indecent sarcasms ; they despised my contempt ; the whole universe applauds their tri- umph this day ; and here am I for all eternity, the detestation and outcast of all creation." Whilst he abandons himself to the anguish of these tormenting thoughts, the Just Judge, after having crowned all the saints, turns towards the reprobate. Oh, my God ! who can conceive the terror of these wretches, and the new torment which they feel at the moment when Thy divine visage, inflamed with anger, shoots all its rays upon them, like a burning sun ; when Thy looks, like so many darts of fire, pierce their vitals and consume them. It is to this Thy prophet al- luded, when he said, that Thou wouldst set them on fire, like furnaces, on that day which he styles the day of Thy enraged visage. Pones eos ut clihanum ignis in tempore vultus tui.^ But what is to become of them ? What violent trembling seizes upon them, and agitates them, like the leaves of the forest, when Thy terrific voice, shaking the foundations of the w^orld, and bringing consternation to their inmost souls, makes them hear these dreadful Avords : Discedite a me maledicti ! "I now break for ever all the ties which united the Creator to rebellious creatures, the father to unnatural children, the thrice holy God to incorrigible sinners. Depart from me ! — from Me who gave you existence and life — who formed you to My likeness, and destined you to be sharers in My own happiness ; from Me, who formed for your benefit, all this beautiful universe, in which the multiplied favours which I lavished upon you in such profusion, were only a pledge and a feeble prelude of those joys which I prepared for you in My kingdom ; from Me, who bore with your ingratitude and your insults so long — who pardoned your crimes so often — who pursued you by My grace — who, through the hope of overcoming your obduracy, prolonged from year to year, that existence which you invariably abused; from Me, who loved you so tenderly, as even to offer Myself a victim for your sake, to weep, to suffer, to die for you, and who could obtain nothing but your hatred in return ; from Me, the only author of every blessing, who, rejected by you, reject you again in My turn, and abandon you a prey to all sorts of evil ; from Me, who am benediction itself; but I solemnly curse you this day. Unfor- tunate man ! you have loved malediction ; you have chosen it for your inheritance ; may it abide with you for ever !" Maledicti ! At this word, a terrible voice issues from the throne of God, and resounds through the highest heavens ; another re-echoes it with a dreadful roaring from the abyss of hell ; another comes forth from the four quarters of the earth, and they all repeat together *' Malediction, * '' Thou shalt make them as uii oven of fu'e iu the time of thy auger." — Ps. xx. 10. C 18 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. woe, MaledictiP' "Begone, then, far from Me," resumes the supreme Judge, '*to the abode of eternal misery — to that place where there are no limits to torture, and no end to desolation ; where the fire is ever burning, and never consumes ; where a never- dying worm devours, and never destroys; Avhere there is not left so much as the consolation of being able to hope for death. Discedite a me in ignem ceternum. These frightful prisons have not been created for man, the beloved work of my father's hands, but for the rebellious angel, your enemy and mine. You were well aware that dark hatred exasperated him against you ; that the damnation of the human race was the only object of his desires ; and you have preferred him to your God. Not content with falling into all his snares, and piercing yourselves with all his darts, you have, more- over, conspired with him in his plots against mankind, and against Me also ; you have become the seducers of your brethren, the cor- ruptors of innocence, the calumniators of virtue, the persecutors of piety, the devils of the earth, the ministers, the instruments, the organs of the prince of darkness ; and it is but just that you should share his fate, after having embraced his cause and performed his work. Discedite in ignem ceternum qui paratus est diabolo et angelis ejus.* After having pronounced this decree, directing towards those miserable beings a parting look, on which indignation and pity are depicted, He turns away from them for ever; and after having dis- pelled the clouds which hung upon His brow, He fixes His eyes upon the assembly of the just, with a smile full of sweetness and majesty, which makes heaven and earth rejoice. The never-ending canticle of praise and thanksgiving, in which all creatures join, immediately begins. At the sound of these concerts the heavens throw open their portals, and display their entire magnificence to the enraptured eyes of the elect, who ascend into the air, accompanied by angels, and enter in the train of the Lamb into the everlasting Jerusalem, which resounds with their reiterated acclamations of joy and tri- imiph. Whilst the reprobate contemplate this spectacle in sullen silence, oh ! appalling contrast ! — the earth gives way around them, and hell, displaying the depths of its prisons, demands its victims with expanded jaws ! Then it is that these unfortunate beings, examining the dreadful depths of that abyss which is about to swallow them, and feeling more conscious than ever of the awful nature of their destiny, which they contrast with the happiness of the just, can fix no limits to their despair. Strength and courage abandon them altogether ; their hearts are broken ; they burst into torrents of tears ; and raising their eyes for the last time towards that heavenly * " Depart from me into everlasting fire which was prepared for the devil and his angels. Matt. XXV. 41. SERiVION ON THE LAST JUDGMENT. . 19 country which they shall never more behold, recognizing among those who now enter it, their friends, their fellow-citizens, their relatives — looking upon the places which had been prepared for themselves, but which others now occupy — all the acuteness and intensity of feeling with Avhich they had ever been endued, revives at the moment of this desolating separation, and they exclaim in a voice stifled by sobs and groans, "FareAvell, paradise of delights, admirable city of the living God, abode of peace, of glory, and happiness, for which w^e had been created, and from which our crimes irretrievably banish us ! Farewell,, Father of Mercies, whose children we no longer are ; divine Saviour, who recognizest us no more as thy brethren ; Spirit of love, Avhom we have com- pelled to hate us ! Farewell, adorable Redeemer, who hast shed all thy blood in vain to preserve us from these miseries to which our own madness has consigned us ! Farewell, incomparable Virgin, mother of all the living, whom we choose to have as an enemy rather than as a mother ; holy patrons, who once obtained for us so many graces which our own obduracy has rendered unavailing ; angel-guardians and protectors whom we have aban- doned, to unite ourselves with those monsters to Avhom we have now fallen a prey ! Farewell, you all whose memory is most tender and torments us most — virtuous friends, whose advice and example we have despised — Christian parents, who so often entreated us, with tears, to have mercy upon ourselves, and we would not hear you — beloved spouses, to Avhom we were united by such endearing ties, from whom our infidelity has separated us for ever ! Farewell, all you happy inhabitants of heaven ! Hell claims us as its portion ! Farewell, bright day of eternity ! we descend into a night that shall never end. Farewell, joy, peace, consolation, hope — farewell for ever ! Torments, desolation, and despair must be our inherit- ance for ever more !" At these words they sink into the burning prison-house, which groans as it swallows up its prey. The gates of the abyss are closed upon them, never more to open. All is consummated. There shall be weeping and gnashing of teeth. I have not strength to add any more. May the sincerity of your conversion, my brethren, your faithful co-operation w4th divine grace, and the infinite mercy of the Lord, preserve you from such an awful destiny! This is a blessing which I wish you, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen, c 2 20 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS, SERMON ON THE WOED OF GOD. FOR THE THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT. " Ego vox clamantis in deserto : Dirigite viam Domini^ " The voice of one crying out in the wilderness ; make straight the way of the Lord." John, i. 23. Although the humility of the holy precursor may seem to be, and really is, worthy of our admiration, when, on this day, he repudiates those magnificent titles which the Synagogue seems so ready to decree in his favour, we must nevertheless admit that he renders a glorious testimony in his own behalf, and that he conveys a most sublime idea of his ministry, when he exclaims — '' The voice which you hear in this desert is not my voice ; it is not the voice of a mere mortal ; but I myself am the voice and the organ of Him who is every where present, though unseen, and never ceases to speak to all mankind and to say to them — * Prepare my ways. I descend amongst you through compassion and mercy. Appear in my presence by penance and by love.' " Effo vox clamantis in deserto, Dirigite viam Domini. Was it possible for John to state in less equivocal terms, that his word was the word of God himself? But, my brethren, what has been the result of that divine preaching, which ought to have produced such powerful effects ? Multitudes, it is true, assembled from all quarters to listen to this extraordinary mortal, and the banks of the Jordan could scarce contain the crowds of hearers who thronged around him. But, in every other respect, if we except a few docile spirits who availed themselves of his instruc- tions, what benefit was derived from these instructions, by that countless multitude which seemed to look for them with so much avidity ? Some, influenced by a vain curiosity, rather than by an humble faith, confined themselves to mere barren admiration of the prophet ; and satisfied with applauding his discourse, they cared neither to practise what he taught, nor to amend their lives. Venit Joannes, . . , . et non credidistis ei, , . . nee poenitentiam habidstis.* Others, blinded by pride, could only find a subject for * '' For John caine, and you did not believe him.'" — 5Iatt. xxi. 32. SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 21 derision and censure in the austerity of his life, and in the mysteries which he proclaimed ; they despised him, and, in the excess of their folly, they regarded this angel of God— for such do the Scriptures designate him— as the instrument and the vile sport of the very devils. Venit Joannes^ . , , , et dicunt dcBmonium haheU^ Finally, others — and these were the great and the mighty — offended at the holy freedom with which this new Elias censured their vices, furiously persecuted him. Captivity and death were the rewards which they reserved for the generous intrepidity of his zeal. I>ico vohis quia Elias venit, et fecerunt illi qucecunque voluerunt.f Such was the success of the divine word when it was announced by the greatest among the children of men. Can we feel astonished, therefore, that this same word should be attended with a different result, when it issues from our lips ? When we announce it from these pulpits, we enjoy the consolation of seeing a few righteous confirmed in virtue, and a few sinners brought back from their evil ways; but, with the exception of this small number of true believers and sincere penitents, what else do we behold ? Ah ! can we say it without tears ? what do we see but those who pro- fane, who despise, and who persecute the Avord of God ? First, those who profane it — who listen to it as they would listen to human and profane discourses, and who, therefore, derive no benefit what- soever from it ; secondly, those who despise it — who, through proud disdain, refuse to hear it, and who thus deprive themselves of a most important means of salvation ; and thirdly, those who persecute it — who hear it Avith perfidious intentions alone, who hate it, who calumniate it, and wish to be able to extinguish it in the mouths of its ministers. Oh, my God ! as I must support and vindicate the cause of Thy holy word this day, grant me, I entreat, that energy and wisdom which can come from Thee alone, so that I may announce the truth without the least restriction or reserve, and that 1 may also an- nounce it with a religious moderation which may reach the hearts of its enemies and disarm their resentment instead of provoking and exasperating them. Ave Maria, 8fc. I. — The word of God, in common with all other sacred and divine things, requires certain dispositions, on our part, to guard it from profanation. Now, what are these dispositions, my brethren ? I will reduce them to three principal ones, which seem to me to comprise all the others ; first, a disposition of faith ; secondly, a disposition of humility ; and thirdly, a disposition of zeal for the sanctification of our souls. First, a disposition of faith. This is a sacred and mysterious * " For John came, and they say he hath a devil." — Ibid xi. 18. f " But I say to you, Elias is come, and they have done to him whatsoever they would."— Mark, ix. 12. 22 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. tribune, my brethren, where man alone appears before your eyes — where the voice of man alone strikes your ears — but where, never- theless, it is not man but God that speaks and teaches. Non enim vos estis qui loquimini, sed spiritiis patris vestri qui loquitur in vobis.^' The preaching of the gospel is therefore, as it were, a kind of sacrament or mystery in w^iich we must carefully distinguish what strikes the senses from that which is hidden and divine. But what is capable of making this necessary distinction except faith ? — that faith which St. Paul commended in the Thessalonians, when he said to them, We give thanks to God without ceasing, because that when you had received of us the word of the hearing of God, you received it not as the hearing of men, but as it is, indeed, the word of God\ — that faith, which, according to the judgment of the great apostle, is so excellent, that he did not hesitate to ascribe to it, not only all the virtues of those newly-converted Christians, but, moreover, all the success of the gospel, and its rapid propagation through the uni- verse. A vobis d^amatus est sermo Domini et in omni loco fides vestra profecta est.% How ardently we desire, my dear brethren, to be able to address a like commendation to you. But, I appeal to yourselves, is it in our power to do so ? Have you, like the first disciples, this en- lightened faith w^hich pierces through those veils which are impene- trable to the eyes of the senses ? Do you recognize Jesus Christ, who is now present in the midst of us, employing the tongue of the most unworthy of His ministers to communicate His divine instruc- tions to you ? Is it this invisible master you have come to hear ? Have you approached this pulpit as another Mount Sinai, where the Lord, without displaying the aw^ful pomp with which He was attended of old, vouchsafes, nevertheless, to descend into the midst of us, in order to proclaim His oracles ? Are you aware of this mysterious power, of this ineffable dignity of our ministry, by virtue of which, dust and ashes as we are, we, nevertheless, occupy the place of the great God, and cause His very voice to be heard ? Deo exhortante per nos.\ Are you aware that the lips of the priest which produce the Saviour every day upon the altar, by virtue of the mysterious words which they pronounce, are also employed in producing the same Saviour in your souls, in a different manner, by the efficacy of another Avord ? Ah, Christians! — too feeble and blind Christians! — you must confess that you do not reflect upon all this ; that it is man alone you behold, and the discourses of man alone you have come to * " For it is not you that speak, but the spirit of your father that speaketh in you." — ^Matt. X. 20. t 1 Thess. ii. 13. X " For from you was spread abroad the word of the Lord, and in every place your faith is gone forth." — 1 Tliess. i. 8. § " God, as it were, exhorting by us." — 2 Cor. v. 20. SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 23 look for ; and by a well-merited and awful chastisement you shall find precisely what you have sought. Whilst man shall speak, God will remain silent in your regard ; empty sounds will ring through your ears, but your hearts will remain deaf to those eternal truths which are alone able to save your souls ; you will be affected solely by that frivolous brilliancy with which the thoughts and language of orators sometimes glitter, but no ray of heavenly light shall penetrate your souls, to dispel their thick darkness ; you will eagerly nourish your curiosity with some indefinable puerile arrangement of words and language to which you give the name of eloquence, but your soul, which stand sin need of more solid nutriment, will depart void and hungry from this table where it ought to receive the life-giving bread of truth. Oh I let us be allowed, once and for all, to deplore with bitterness what constitutes your misfortune and our ignominy. It is the grovelling baseness of your earthly and human views that has enfeebled and degraded our ministry. You are not desirous of viewing us in any other light except as unprofit- able and frivolous rhetoricians, w^hose sole business it is to satisfy the fastidiousness of your tastes and to banish the tiresomeness which besets your listless inactivity ; and God, in His just indignation, permits that we should be nothing m6re. He withdraws from us and abandons us to our owm resources ; He deprives us of what would convert you, and He leaves us only what pleases and amuses you. Instead of these darts of fire which pierce and inflame the most obdurate hearts — instead of these lightnings from heaven which overturned Saul upon the road to Damascus — instead of these thunders which break the cedars, that is to say, proud spirits — instead of that voice of thunder which shakes the foundations of mountains, that is to say, sinners hardened in vice — he leaves us die coldness of rhetoricians, the barren resources of profane skill, the persuasive words of human ivisdom, which St. Paul disdained to use,* and which produce no fruit in the soul. Instead of zeal we are endowed with talents ; and because you are not believers, but rather fastidious and curious hearers, we, in our turn, are, alas ! no longer worthy interpreters of Jesus Christ — we are no longer apos- tles, but eloquent men and sounding cymbals. Thus, the first defect by which you profane the divine w^ord is a w^ant of faith. The second is a want of humility. This pulpit, around which you are now assembled, my brethren, is an august tribunal, upon which the word of truth, seated as upon its throne, pronounces decrees which it proclaims at the same time, in the inmost recesses of the conscience of every one amongst you. In your capacity as sinners, you are impeached criminals cited before it, to hear yourselves accused of your errors and passions, that you may learn to know yourselves, to be confounded, and to * 1 Cor. ii. 1, 4. 24 SERMONS rOR SUNDAYS AND I'ESTIVALS. condemn yourselves. Humble sentiments of respect, of fear, and repentance, are therefore the only sentiments which you should bring into the presence of that word by which you are to be judged. But how very different are the dispositions which you bring with you to this place! You come hither, to sit in judgment your- selves, to submit every thing to the supremacy of your criticism, to summon before your tribunal both your brethren, and the ministry of the word, and that divine word itself. Yes — your brethren. You secretly apply to them every word which the zeal of a sincere charity inspires us to say, with the view of cautioning you about your own defects and disorders. The most striking likenesses we are able to draw of your habits, appear to you to be nothing more than the pictures of their vices ; you invariably turn towards them the mirror which we hold up to yourselves, and every effort which we make to heal the incurable blindness of your self-love, to inspire you with a salutary confusion, and to awaken remorse within you, has no better success than to make you see more clearly the faults of others, to render the malignity of your censures still more acute, and to furnish you Avith new arms against your neighbour. Yet this is not enough. The minister who speaks to you in the name of heaven, is himself subjected to your rash judgments. So far from revering the august dignity with which he is invested, so far from listening to him with a religious trembling, as an ambas- sador from God, commissioned to instruct and to reprove you, do you not rather seem to regard him as an actor who exhibits himself to gain your applause, or to endure your disdain ? To what a degree of humiliation is the divine ministry reduced, in the eyes of the faithful, when we have become the objects of the trifling and shallow criticism which they daily employ, in reference to us ! And how great is the extent of that criticism ! I am ashamed to acknowledge it. Everything that appertains to us — even our language, our most trifling gestures, the very sound of our voice — are not all these made the subject sometimes of their puerile and senseless re- marks, sometimes of their indecent sarcasms, and sometimes of their commendations, which are no less disreputable ? Oh, my God ! is this what ought to occupy the minds of Christians, when we speak to them of Thy justice, of Thy mercy, and of the terrible account which they shall one day have to render of their works ? Would that their censure extended no farther than our persons ; that it resj)ected, at least, the sacred word, of Avhich God is the author, and of which we are only the feeble organs! But no; they are not afraid to judge that very word which judges the world, and whose inflexible truth will pass judgment upon us for all eternity. Some of them w^ould strive to impose silence upon its doctrines and mysteries, as being too highly elevated above human reason ; others complain of its morality, as being too austere, and disproportioned to the infirmity of our nature ; every one of them, forgetting that it SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 25 has come down from heaven, Avould strive to form and fashion it, according to the bent of his own caprice. My brethren, you applaud the divine power of that word, when it is raised against crimes of which you are not guilty ; against those enormous public disorders to which you may have fallen victims ; against the injus- tice which you suffer, and the conspiracies which threaten you : in such cases you imagine that it does not display its terrors, or launch its thunders with sufficient force. But let it afterwards assail these particular abuses in which you delight — these dangerous pleasures, in which you persist in maintaining that nothing but what is inno- cent can be found — that scandalous nudity, which even Pagans would have condemned, but which Christians justify — these cri- minal familiarities, whose depravity passion alone conceals ; these suspected intrigues, which you hide by so many pretexts and de- vices — this hatred, these dissensions, these scandalous rumours, w^hich sever the bond of charity, and disturb the repose of society itself— your luxury, your ambition — that dissipated, indolent, sen- sual life, with which you have never reproached yourself— this mor- tal indifference to all religion, which leads you to violate its most sacred laws and most essential prohibitions on every occasion ; let it be said to you in reference to these things, and a multitude of others, as John the Baptist said to Herod, Non licet — " That is not lawful" — Oh ! how severe, how unmanagable, and even unjust, do you not then find it to be ! In how great complaints, and mur- murs, and railings against it do you not then indulge ! Thus, it loses all its authority for you as soon as it undertakes your correc- tion, because, instead of the humility which submits to its decisions and decrees, you bring to it the pride which passes judgment on everything, and finally presumes to judge and to condemn itself. Can there be a more manifest profanation ? Finally, the last defect which leads you to profane the word of God, is a want of zeal for the sanctification of your souls. Ah ! my brethren, if you appreciated the value of that immortal soul which is within you, if you had a sincere desire of adorning it with virtue, and earning for it eternal happiness, how great consola- tion would you not afford our ministry ! with what pious avidity would you not receive the lessons of the divine science of salvation ! how carefully would you not engrave it upon your hearts, to make it the rule of all your thoughts and actions ! This sacred seed of the word would no longer fall upon a dry and barren ground, where it is immediately trampled under foot, but upon a well-pre- pared and fertile soil, where it would produce fruit an hundred fold ; the face of Christianity would be renewed, and the preaching of the gospel would be even at the present time, w^hat it has been in its brightest days, the foundation of every virtue. But, alas ! what influence is it capable of exercising upon a carnal and infidel genera- tion, who have no longer ears to hear it ? Man, buried in the mire 26 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. of his senses, no longer feels the least concern for his true glory or his dearest interests ; he has rejected his heavenly inheritance, to seek only earthly and perishable goods. Degraded by his own hands, he repudiates that noble portion of his being by which he is made like unto the angels, and recognizes only that which he pos- sesses in common with the brute. In this state of abasement, he is unable to comprehend our language ; and thus the doctrine of Jesus Christ has ceased to be intelligible to Christians. How can we feel astonished, therefore, that all our efforts to move them are unavail- ing? If we treated upon the interests of time, the objects of avarice, the aifections of flesh and blood, it would be easy for us to arrest their attention, to excite their fears or desires by turns, to make them sometimes even shed tears ; " but as long as there will be ques- tion merely of the loss or the possession of God, of the life or death of their souls, of the alternative of everlasting happiness or misery, they will remain cold, distracted, and insensible, they will continue asleep upon the brink of the abyss, and will not awake until they have fallen into its depths. But what ! are there not Christians at the present day who wish to be saved ? There are, my brethren, even still ; but where are they who desire it efficaciously, who desire it upon the conditions which Jesus Christ has required ? Where are they who persuade themselves that heaven is a kingdom of conquest, which must be won by offering violence to nature ; that the path of salvation is narrow, rugged, and lonely, and that the broad way pursued by the multitude leads to perdition; that the world is reprobated with its examples, which are scandals, its pleasures, which are dis- orders, its maxims, which are only falsehood, and its glory, which is mere pride ; that self-denial, humility, mortification of the senses, the spirit of recollection and prayer, are fundamental and indispen- sable virtues of the Christian religion? Where are they who do not look upon all these truths, when we announce them from the pulpit, as a conventional language, which they may interpret accord- ing to their fancy ; as figures and hyperboles, which serve to em- bellish our discourses ; which they may retrench as much as they please, and therefore derive no practical benefit from them ? How many there are, then, oh, my God ! among those who hear Thy holy word, w^ho profane it ! and in the crowds which fill thy temples, how few there are truly faithful who seek the sanctification of their souls ! This, O Lord ! is the reason why our ministry, though all glo- rious and divine, has become a crushing burden, a sad and oppres- sive task for us. Sorrow withers our hearts, when we see that Thou art foJ^otten and disowned by men, and that they disown and forget themselves ; that they live in a senseless disregard of their future destiny, and that our admonitions, our cries, and our tears, are unable to prevent them from hastening to inevitable ruin. Alas ! SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 27 Thy ministers are sometimes coDgratulated upon their success, and upon the good which they effect, when the world crowds eagerly to hear them, and especially w^hen it seems to applaud them ; but, O great God ! what good do we effect if we do not change the heart ; if every one, when leaving this place, carries with him the same pre- judices, the same passions, and the same vices, as he had brought with him ; if we cannot present to Thee, as the fruit of our labours, and of the sweat of our brows, one true penitent, who may become our crown, and may attest the victorious power of Thy word? Oh, how happy were these holy preachers of old, who carried Thy name to barbarous and infidel nations, and who, after incredible fatigue, gained them over to grace, either by the power of their discourses, or at least by shedding their blood ! How happy would we be our- selves, if even at the loss of all that is ours, we may be able to affect those sinners who hear us, to arouse them from a fatal slum- ber, which is so much akin to death, and to rescue others from darkness, which is, perhaps, even more profound than the darkness of infidelity itself! But we have said enough about those who profane the word of God and hear it without advantage. Let us now proceed to con- sider those who despise it — who disdain to hear it. II. — When we raise our voices against those who absent them- selves from our pulpits, and who despise the sacred word to such a degree that they seldom or never evince an inclination to hear it, it might be supposed that it is our own glory we have in view, and our own interests we strive to vindicate. No, — my brethren, God forbid that we should ! We have interests to defend which are infinitely more exalted and more precious. It is not our own cause we plead, but the salvation of your souls, the interests of religion, the cause of God himself. The words which we employ are His words, and not our own. It is to Him you listen when you lend an ear to our discourses; it is to Him you offer the insult when you despise them. Qui vos audit me audit ; qui vos spernit me spernit.^ And do you wish to know, my brethren, with what awful severity he punishes that sacrilegious contempt which is directed against himself? Learn it from his own lips. Into what- ever city or town you shall enter. He says to His apostles, whosoever shall not receive you, nor hear your words, going forth shake off the dust from your feet. Amen, I say to you, it shall he more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah in the day of judgment than for that city.\ Ah ! you are sometimes astonished at these public calamities of which you may have been the witnesses or the victims. You ask how is it possible that these dreadful storms, these disastrous revo- lutions which shake the foundations of empires, which destroy, in a * " He that hearetli youhearetli me, and he that despiseth you despiseth me." — Luke, x. 16. t Matt. X. 15. 28 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. moment, institutions, morality, laws, and the whole order of society, which deluge the earth with blood, and inflict upon great and powerful nations those deep wounds which perhaps ages will not heal — how they could all have so suddenly arisen in the midst of prosperity and peace ? You ascribe these catastrophes Avhich alarm us to a thousand different causes. But how do I know, O my God ! whether we ought not to recognize them rather as the fulfil- ment of Thy unerring threats — whether they may not be the blows with which Thou chastisest the kingdoms in which Thy sacred word, after having been listened to Avith respect for a long period, is at length repudiated, disowned, and almost universally abandoned? How do I knoAV but that Thou mayest reserve a still more fatal punishment for our obduracy of heart ? It shall he more tolerable for the land of Sodom and Gomorrah than for that city. But some one may say " What ! does God speak to us no where except from your pulpits? Is there no substitute for the instruction which you impart to us on His behalf? Have we not the sacred Scriptures, the works of the saints, and the many pious and excel- lent writings which the spirit of science and of zeal has dictated ? And are not all these sufficient for us without the assistance of your discourses ?" Oh ! you who make use of such language, I may ask you, in my turn, whether you read these precious books for which you exhibit such great veneration, and which you would endeavour to substitute for the preaching of the gospel ? — whether you do not devote your leisure hours to reading of a very different kind, Avhich is better calculated to enfeeble and corrupt your heart, than to elevate it above the level of this earth, and to sanctify it ? But, ■without dwelling on that point, I feel it more judicious to answer, that the conversion of souls and the great effects of grace have been at all times attached to our ministry. It is our ministry which has gained over the world to Jesus Christ — wdiich has over- turned the idols and established the reign of true virtue upon earth ; it is that w^ill save you if you desire salvation. The written word is silent of necessity ; in itself it is a mere dead letter ; it requires that the application and the faith of those who read it should, as it were, animate it with the breath of life, and impart to it a voice which should make it be heard. If the hearers are distracted or languishing, it communicates nothing to their minds ; it suffers their insensibility to remain undisturbed. But here, my brethren, the sacred w^ord comes forth living and efficacious from the lips of the priest. Vivus est enim sermo Dei ct ejficax,^ It addresses the ears, the eyes, the whole man, and penetrates at once through all the senses, even to the very soul, which it fills with a salutary dread. Penetrahilior omni gladio ancipiti.^ Nothing is exempt from its in- fluence. It awakens remorse which had been sunk in lethargy ; it * "For the word of Go* is living and effectual." — Heb. iv. 12. t " And more piercing than any two-edged sword." — Ibid. SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOU. 29 excites a stifled conscience against the passions which held it in subjection; it severs the fatal union between the spirit and the flesh ; it reaches disorders in their very source ; it strikes at the root of the most inveterate habits, of the most cherished propensities, of the most tender attachments. Pertingens usque ad divisionem animce et spiritus, compagum quoque et medullarum.^ Then are fought those violent and decisive conflicts in which nature is often conquered, and grace triumphs ; the old man is destroyed ; the new man springs up from his ashes ; new thoughts and affections are called into existence along with him ; the great miracle of a change of heart is wrought. Et discretor cogitationum et intentionum cordis,'\ Who amongst you is a stranger to the manifestation of that omni- potent power which the Lord displays in this temple, which is His special dwelling-place — in this pulpit which is His throne — in these assemblies of a faithful people where all tremble, bow down, and are hushed into silence in His presence ? Who can fail to be affected by the majesty which it borrows here from the sanctity of the place, from those altars upon which the blood of the adorable victim flows, and from all those sacred objects which surround us ? How great is the efficacy which is imparted to it by the presence of the word of God, who resides in these tabernacles, of the sanctify- ing spirit who hovers unseen beneath these vaulted roofs, and some ineffable but sensible impression of the Divine presence which cannot be found elsewhere ? Tell us after this, that you disdain to listen to the tidings of life and salvation because they are announced to you by inferior preach- ers. Alas ! my brethren, we freely admit that we are endowed neither with the profound wisdom, nor certainly with the virtues, of those who have preached before us with so much brilliancy and success ; we are not endowed with the sacred and wonderful elo- quence of these men who, without detracting in the slightest degree either from the august simplicity of the gospel, or the power which it derives from the humility of the cross, are, nevertheless, able to decorate and embellish it, and to display it in their discourses with no less brilliancy than strength and success. This splendour, and these attractions of the sacred word, were suited to happier times ; and they probably were a just reward which heaven conferred upon the zeal and fervour of our fathers. But, have the Christians of our days the least right to expect such favours ? Will they presume to complain of the want of elegance and refinement when they have deserved by their contempt and haughty fastidiousness, that they should be deprived even of the bread of children, and that the Lord should condemn them to the famine of PI is word — that most awful infliction with which He has ever threatened His people? * "And reaching into the division of the soul and the spirit, of the joints also and the mar^ row." — Heb. iv. 12. t "And is a discerner of the thoughts and intents of the heart." — Ibid. 30 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. Why do I speak of their contempt and fastidiousness ? Oh ! I could address infinitely more severe and overwhelming reproaches, not to you, my brethren, but to a great many others who manifest so much disregard for our ministry, and who obstinately avoid our temples ! How long is it since the eloquence of the gospel has degenerated amongst us ? It is scarce thirty years since we have seen the Christian pulpits occupied by preachers Avho were not unworthy of the brightest ages of the Church. Their voice was that of a Nathan or an Isaias ; their zeal that of a Paul or a Barnabas ; their language that of a Basil, a Chrysostom, or an Ambrose. We have heard them in our youth ; and we have soon after looked round for them in vain. What has become of them ? How could they have disappeared so suddenly ? Oh ! Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who killest the prophets and destroyest those who have been sent to thee, how canst thou ask why they are silent whilst thy hands are still crimsoned with their blood ? After having hurled the pontiff, the priest, and the Levite into one common grave, does it become you to reproach the holy tribe thus mutilated, with its lustre faded, and its strength enfeebled ? What right have you to require that we — the sad relics of our departed brethren — the weak and only remaining ruins of the Church of France, which has been so illustri- ous and so flourishing in by-gone days — could, of ourselves alone, revive its undiminished glory, and support the whole burden of maintaining its ancient renoAvn ? Alas ! reduced as we are to so small a number, wasted by fatigue, distracted by so many different duties, and so many laborious occupations, assailed by so many enemies, inundated by such torrents of bitterness, what leisure can we devote to that study and deep contemplation to which our more fortunate predecessors dedicated their lives in peace ? Ah ! instead of regarding our efforts with contempt, and thus conspiring to crush our spirit, would it not be more equitable to console us in our sorrow, and to animate our confidence by renewed earnestness and docility ? If the divine word has lost any of its outward ornaments and magnificence, when pronounced by our lips, ought it not, on the other hand, be more precious in your sight, inasmuch as it is more rare ? Is it not your duty to preserve with the most jealous care those expiring embers of the sacred fire which still remain amongst you, and which threaten every moment to be extinguished ? Moreover, my brethren — for we are not afraid to do justice to ourselves — what have those celebrated preachers announced to your fathers i Avhat has John the Baptist announced to the people of Judea, and Peter and Paul to those of Bome and Athens, but what we address to you now, as they have done ? Do we not con- tinually repeat that the world passeth away ; that eternity is fast approaching ; that every hour may be your last ; that your impious pleasures will not make you more happy even here below, though SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 31 they provide for you misery without limits after the present life ; that virtue is the only true glory of man, and vice his only real dis- grace ; that the salvation of his soul is his only important concern ; that the judgments of God should be dreaded even by the most holy ; that to bid defiance to them is the highest excess of madness and of guilt ? What is there in any one of these truths, in what- ever point of view they are regarded, that is not important, serious, impressive, worthy of the attention of solid minds, and calculated to affect every noble and generous heart ? What nmst we think of those vi^ho regard them only as objects of contempt and derision, who close their ears against these divine instructions, to open them to the poisonous maxims of a base, carnal, senseless philosophy, which deludes, degrades, corrupts, and casts them headlong through every sort of error and disorder, into a bottomless abyss of woe, out of which they never can escape ? Oh, proud and contemptuous men, against wdiose unmerited con- tempt it is our lot to struggle, if any one of you is to be found in this Christian assembly, to him I appeal. You may despise our per- sons as much as you please ; we shall suffer your contempt Avithout a murmur ; but, do not despise your own souls ; do not despise a ministry which has been instituted to save them ; do not despise that word which God himself places upon our lips, to instruct you and to lead you to Him, Hoav feeble soever our voice may seem to you, disdain not to hear it. Such is the grace attached to that character with which we are invested, to that mission Avhich we have received from above, that perhaps some auspicious moment may arrive at last, when a heavenly light will suddenly enlighten you at the foot of this pulpit, a salutary dart will pierce your soul ; your prejudices will be dissipated, your tastes, your inclinations, will be changed ; astonished at yourself, because new you love nothing but virtue, because you esteem nothing but faith, because you are a stranger to every other regret, except that of having sinned, and to every other desire, except the desire of being recon- ciled with heaven ; and filled with admiration and gratitude, you shall exclaim, "This is the work of the right hand of the Most Pligh ; it is He alone could effect such a prodigy : yes, it is He that speaks in this place, and I did not comprehend Him ; but I now experience the power of His grace, and this heart, which He has renewed, shall henceforth breathe no other desire except for Him alone." Vere Dominus est in loco isto, et ego nesciebam* In conclusion, my brethren, we shall briefly refer to those who persecute the word of God. III. — Infidelity, my brethren, must be conscious of its extreme weakness, and must feel a singular distrust in its own cause. If such were not the case, how could it imagine that it were still ne- k Indeed, the Lord is in this place, and I knew it not." — Gen. xxviii. 16. 32 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. cessary to persecute our ministry ? What ! after having exhausted all the arms of sophistry, of false wit, of misguided science, of slander and calumny, against religion, during the last eighty years ; after having combined with these every contrivance of intrigue and corruption, during a long period of time ; after having at length summoned proscriptions, murder, and conflagration to its assistance ; after having demolished the temples, and broken down the altars ; after having almost drowned the priestly tribe in its own blood ; it trembles at the sight of a small band of priests, who have escaped almost naked from the shipwreck, destitute of all human support, and preaching the doctrines of the gospel, with simplicity, above the ruins of the sanctuary. What a cry of alarm has it not raised at the sight of the cross of Jesus Christ, appearing once more amongst us — at seeing it borne into our cities and hamlets by a few men, as poor and humble as the apostles themselves, and erected, with religious veneration, in the public squares and rural districts, amidst the applause and homage of a delighted people ! What efforts has it not employed to make the adorable sign of redemption be regarded as a standard of revolt, the teaching of Christianity in this most Christian kingdom as the most dangerous of all conspira- cies, the gospel of charity and peace, as the war-cry of enmity and discord, and the teachers of a morality the purest and most attrac- tive, as the enemies of social order and morality ! Have we not detected it in the ignominious position of a spy, endeavouring to overhear our discourses with the malignant but vain expectation of being able to lay hold upon some unguarded expression, which may excite the suspicion of public authority, and arm the severity of the law against us ? We do not complain of its persecutions, my brethren ; on the contrary, we rather welcome these as a precious portion of the apostolic inheritance. AYe have not forgotten the instruction of our Divine Master — Blessed are you when they shall revile you, and persecute you^ and speak all that is evil against you untruly, for my sake ; be glad and rejoice, for your reward is very great in heaven.* And have we not reason to rejoice indeed ? Is it not manifest to every one, that the calumnies which are directed against us serve to procure our own glon^, and that of the sacred ministry whose duties we perform ? If our doctrine were nothing more than a vain imposture, as some are so anxious to exhibit it, how could it excite so much rage ? If our adversaries — they who so loudly boast of their liberality — held our discourses in as much contempt as they affect, why do they not rest satisfied with complaining, Avith regarding our error compassionately, and not have recourse to so many detestable contrivances, in order to prevent our voice * Matth. V. 11, 12. SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 33 from being heard ? Do they bestow upon religions which they know to be false, and upon their ministers, the distinction of hating them with so much virulence ? Why do they exclusively exhibit their hatred against one religion, which is the most sacred of all, and the only one which, to use the expression of a celebrated philo- sopher, is supported by proofs ? Ah ! there must be something in this ; it must be hated only because it is feared ; something which enrages men so far as to make them desire its extinction, because they cannot banish a reverence for it from their hearts. Would you desire to see this mystery explained, my brethren, and to learn the hidden but real cause of all this enmity and anger ? I beg of you to consider that mighty accusation which they so con- stantly urge against us. I omit all the others, which carry their own refutation along with them, and are evidently false ; but what is the capital charge which our enemies have constantly upon their lips, by the aid of which they strive to excite the whole world against us ? I repeat it in their own words, which you have heard a thousand times — " You disturb consciences." Oh, infidel ! you admit, then, in defiance of all the sophistry, and all the systems of a sceptical and unbelieving philosophy, that man possesses a conscience ; that there is an eternal, immutable law, superior to every human code, engraven upon our souls in characters that can never be effaced ; that no one can violate this law without being immediately condemned by a secret tribunal, which each one hears within him — which issues its decrees, and employs remorse as the instrument of their execution in spite of every resistance. You feel the force of this invisible domestic power ; and, after ineffectual attempts to withdraw yourself from its influence, you say that we disturb your conscience, because our language is identical with that which your conscience speaks, and because the exterior word of God, of which we are the organs, when united with the interior word of the same God, which is heard within your heart, produces a voice of thunder, which strikes your heart with terror. We disturb consciences ! But we merely threaten the judg- ments of God — the punishments of eternity. These threats alarm and confound you. You are not, therefore, so regardless as you pretend to be of the terrors of religion, which is the ordinary sub- ject of your ridicule and sarcasms ; you are not so certain that the immortality of the soul, and the eternity of hell, are mere illusions and inventions. All this strength of mind which you assume in profane society, all these airs of audacious infidelity which you ex- hibit, are therefore a deceitful mask beneath which you conceal a feeble, agitated, and tremulous heart. Hence we are justified in assuring our hearers that it is better to take precautions against the danger of such an awful future, than to have the misfortune to face them and to fear them still, and thus to indulge in the insane 34 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. and impious sport of leaving our eternal destiny at the mercy of the most awful of all hazards. We disturb consciences ! But whose consciences do we disturb ? Is it the conscience of the good man? Our doctrine is, that man must honour and obey God, and love his neighbour as himself; that he must obey his rulers, respect the property and reputation of his neighbour ; that he must be just, charitable, pure, sincere, and disinterested ; that thus he shall be blessed upon earth, and enjoy unalloyed happiness in a better w^orld. What is there in all this that can afflict or disturb the man who lives virtuously ? Ah ! honey is not more sweet to the mouth, nor the morning dew more refreshing to the parched grass, than these words and pro- mises are to the faithful and innocent soul. It is only the con- science of the sinner Ave disturb. Oh, what more glorious praise can be bestowed upon our doctrine? What system of morality could be perfect and worthy of having God as its author, unless it consoled the just man in affliction, and alarmed the sinner in his iniquity and exultation ? We disturb consciences ! Blessed be thou, O Lord, who dost thus derive glory from the insane blasphemies of thy enemies ! Our word has the power of exciting the conscience ; it is, therefore, most certainly divine ; for who else but God can have power over the conscience ? Let all the kings, and sages, and legislators of the universe combine in attempting either to add a new law to the code of conscience, or to abrogate one of its enactments ; let them decree that such a virtue will henceforth be a vice, or that such a vice will be a virtue ; their effort will be productive only of uni- versal ridicule ; and why ? Because it is too manifest that con- science is essentially independent of all human wisdom and power. Accordingly — and mark it well — there is only one religion upon earth which appeals to the consciences of all mankind, because there is only one that has come down from heaven. Let a hierophant or a mufti ascend this pulpit and assume our position, he may say what- ever he pleases, he may dart forth his thunders and lightnings, but you will listen to him without emotion or disquiet ; it will not be in his power to reach your conscience, or to affect it in the least degree. Let the infidel ascend after him ; he may display all the powers of his eloquence — all the ingenuity of his reasoning ; he may dazzle your intellects, he may seduce your hearts, he may in- flame your passions, but he will have no power to terrify the con- sciences of those who reject his doctrines, or even to tranquillize the consciences of those w^ho receive them. But observe how Christian truth, the very moment it appeared on earth, has brought the consciences of all mankind under subjection to its laws — how the Jew and the Gentile, the learned and the ignorant, the Greek, the Roman, the Scythian, and the barbarian, have heard its voice from pole to pole. It is because the same God who has created SERMON ON THE WORD OF GOD. 35 the sun to enlighten our bodies, has also instituted Christianity to enlighten our souls ; one of these lights does not penetrate our eyes more naturally than the other penetrates our consciences. This is the secret of the propagation and triumph of the Gospel, when preached by the apostles and their successors, at all times and in all places, whether a Paul, at the birth of Christianity, bears it to the most civilized nations of the earth, or a Francis Xavier, fifteen centuries later, announces it to a savage people, governed by no law. This is also, on the contrary, what excites so many persecutions against it, and will continue to excite them even to the consummation of time ; for those who resist it are, by such resistance, guilty of rebellion against their own consciences, and this revolt drives them into dreadful and insupportable tor- ments of remorse, which agitate them, as it is related of the Furies, and leave them no hope of a release, except by employing every means in their power to drown, if necessary, even in blood, that word which they shall eternally reproach with having disturbed their rebellious consciences. Oh ! I appeal to you all, whoever you be — unfortunate enemies of the only true religion, and of a ministry instituted for your sal- vation — you who, perhaps, hate us though we love you with all the tenderness of the most ardent and sincere charity — Oh ! that we were able, even at the price of our own lives, to disturb your conscience at length so happily and so efficaciously that, overcome by its cries, you may abandon that deplorable warfare which you wage against your God, against your own soul, against that eternal truth, which the Creator has engraved with his own hand upon your inmost soul, in characters which you shall never be able to efface ! May our voice disturb your conscience as the voice of Nathan disturbed the conscience of David, when he pronounced that salutary peccavi, * and became so illustrious a model of peni- tents — as the voice of Ambrose disturbed the conscience of the youthful Augustine, when he deplored his disorders, and abjured all his errors, and embraced, with such reverence and love, that faith which he had assailed so long — as the voice of Peter disturbed the consciences of an entire people of Deicides, who, when filled on a sudden with the most profound compunction, threw them- selves at his feet, and, with one voice, exclaimed — '' Teach us, O apostle of Jesus Christ, what we shall do in order to expiate our guilt, and to obtain mercy ."f To disturb you in this manner would be to restore you to peace and happiness ; it would deserve all your affection and gratitude ; it would obtain them. But, O Lord ! that our discourses may be equally efficacious as the discourses of these men who were so powerful in word and work, vouchsafe to make us sharers — feeble and unworthy minis- * 2 Kings, xii. 13. f ^cts, ii. 37. D 2 36 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. ters as we are — in the sanctity with which they were endued. Fill us with the spirit which animated them, that we may be faithful stewards after their example ; that becoming dead to ourselves, and to every human motive and consideration, we may seek thy glory alone in the exercise of a ministry which is altogether divine ; that we may burn with an ardent zeal for the sanctification of our brethren, but above all for our own ; that we may never instruct them without having previously examined our own state : that, by frequent and intimate communications with thee we may be attentive to learn those lessons which we shall again impart to our people ; and that we may never address them on thy behalf but when we descend, like Moses, from the holy mountain where thou thyself shalt have dictated thy will and thy oracles ; so that our words may derive all their efficacy from Him who is the author of them ; that they may penetrate, like a dew from heaven, to the bottom of every heart, and produce fruits of life and salvation which may abide for ever. Amen. SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 37 SERMON ON THE STATE OF HUMILIATION IN WHICH JESUS CHRIST HAS BEEN BORN. FOE CHRISTMAS DAY. " Famulus natus est nobis, etjtlius datus est nobis.''* " A child is born to us, and a Son is given to us."— Isaiah, ix. 6. What humble words, my brethren ! — what simple and affecting language, to express the most stupendous mystery that has ever been proposed to the faith of man — the most extraordinary and the most divine event which the annals of the world and of religion can exhibit ! This Son who is given to us — be astonished, O ye hea- vens ! — is the Son of God himself, who, by an ineffable prodigy, has become the Son of man, and is conceived in time of a mortal mother, after having been begotten in the bosom of his Father before tlie existence of time began. This little infant who has been born to us, is He whose immensity fills the whole creation — in whose presence the angels tremble and fall prostrate — who has created the heavens and the earth by his word — who preserves them by his power, and by a single look could make them return back to nothing. This infinite being is confined within the narrow limits of a stable ; the eternal word is silent in a manger ; the increated wisdom is wrapped in swaddling clothes I O mystery ! O abyss ! O truly unfathomable depth of the divine councils, in which human reason can only be agitated and confounded ! O altitudo divitiarum sapientioi et scientice Dei,* Accordingly, no less than four thousand years were necessary to prepare the world for the performance of so great and incompreher- sible a miracle. Revealed obscurely in the beginning to our first parents after their fall, it became the source of all their hope and consolation ; it was the object of the faith of the ancient just and of the ardent prayers of the patriarchs. Subsequently prefigur.^d by the sacrifices and ceremonies of the law, by the entire worship c f the synagogue, and by all the institutions of the chosen people, it '■' the depth of the riches of the wisdom and of the knowledge of God." — Kom. xi. 38 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. was for a long time described under veils and shadows as the profound thought of God, the incomprehensible end of his adorable designs, the mighty and mysterious work of his wisdom and mercy. When it was at length more clearly revealed to the prophets, it excited their transports and became the subject of their sublimest canticles ; they never ceased, during the lapse of many centuries, to preserve these in the minds of the holy nation, and as their voice resounded beyond the limits of Judea, they filled the whole earth with the hope of a liberator, who being, at the same time, God and man, was destined to bring salvation to mankind from the summit of heaven. After such a magnificent display of promises, and predictions, and figures, when the time was come. He, whom the universe expected, whom the desires of all invited, appeared at length. And what do we behold ? As I have already said, a feeble infant, descended from the race of Adam, according to the flesh, born in a stable, cradled in a manger, scarcely protected by a few rags from the inclemency of the season, and unable to express himself except by sighs and tears. Could such marks lead us to recognize the promised remedy of our evils — the desired of the eternal hills — the Son of the Most High ? Shall we accompany the shepherds and the wise men to adore him ? or shall we, with the incredulous Jews, imagine that our expectations were deceived ? and shall we turn our hopes to a Saviour different from Him who had been born in Bethlehem ? Will you hesitate to answer, my brethren ? Do you belong to that class of short-sighted beings who can discover nothing by the light of faith, and who, from their inability to form an opinion, except by the aid of the senses, can recognize nothing but abjection and meanness, where the saints have beheld so much elevation and magnificence ? Are you induced to join with those infidels who despise our doctrines, and to assert that infinite Majesty could not be able thus to humble and annihilate itself; that, if the God-head really vouchsafed to come down upon this earth, he would have appeared under a form more imposing and more capable of attracting the homage of our respect and veneration ? Oh, proud and senseless unbeliever ! is this your wisdom and the amount of your knowledge of the things of God ? Oh ! how con- tracted are your views, and how really vulgar and grovelling are those conceptions which you imagine to be so elevated and sublime. Oh ! that I could now convince you of that truth ; and that by leading you to consider the ideas which faith gives us, and which are alone sublime and true, I may induce you to abjure those errors to which pride and a presumptuous ignorance give birth in the great concern of religion. It is not the mystery of the Incarnation, my brethren, but the mystery of the Nativity of our Saviour that I shall vindicate to-day. SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 39 It is not, therefore, my duty to show, upon the present occasion, how the economy of the redemption of the world, by the mediation of a God, made man, is altogether divine ; but having supposed that economy, and that Christ is the Son of God, we shall show that when he was to assume our nature, he should be born precisely as Jesus Christ has been born ; that this birth, which is so humble, and so abject in the eyes of the senses, was, by that very humility and abjection, the most worthy of a man-God ; and the reason may be stated in three words. It is because no other birth could be ^xbetter adapted — first, to his greatness ; secondly, to his wisdom ; jfvand thirdly, to his goodness. The further explanation of these important points demands your most earnest attention. Ave Maria, Sfc, I. — You must certainly feel astonished, my brethren, that I should presume to advance that nothing is more consistent with the greatness of a God, who assumes our nature, than to be born in a state of poverty, of humiliation, and meekness — to have only a stable for his palace, a manger for his cradle, and miserable and paltry rags as the robe of his royalty ; yet this is not a vain paradox, but one of the most solid truths which it is possible to inculcate in a Christian pulpit ; and I expect that you will soon agree with me in admitting it. Yes, to believe that the birth of Jesus Christ is that of a God, it is unnecessary to have recourse to the splendid and miraculous circumstances by which it was accompanied — the supernatural light which suddenly pierced the darkness of night ; the heavenly concerts which resounded through the air ; the angels who addressed the shepherds ; the miraculous star which appeared to the wise men of the east, and conducted them to the feet of the child at Bethlehem ; without dwelling upon these prodigies, I can perceive in the very appearances of poverty and infirmity, indica- tions of a divine greatness which are no less certain, and which more deeply aifect the heart. Let us for a moment imagine a gospel of human invention — let us suppose that the genius of man had undertaken to describe the birth of our incarnate Deity ; with what colours do you think he would have painted the entry of the adorable Infant into the world, and the reception which He should have experienced from men? What pomp and splendour would he not display ! What wealth and luxury would be lavished around His cradle ! What a sump- tuous palace would be prepared to receive Him ! What gold and marble would have shone in every part of it ! How abundantly would purple and the most precious tissues be furnished for His dress ! What a countless multitude of servants and courtiers would emulate each other in the performance of their humble duties in his service ! In short, I leave it to your own imagination to represent to yourself every circumstance which an ingenious and creative mind would have added to this picture, in order to perfect and adorn it. 40 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. Now, my brethren, at the sight of such a wealthy and gorgeous display, will you exclaim — '* Oh, how great and divine is this ?" For my part, I would exclaim — " Oh, how paltry and puerile is all this when there is question of a God !" Why should He collect around him all the frail appliances of our weakness — the frivolous ornaments with which we endeavour to clothe and decorate our misery, the deceitful goods which our avarice alone desires, the splendid trifles, the glittering toys with which our folly sports ? Can he stand in need of them ? or is he captivated with them ? What ! how could He stand in need of all these ? How can that be recon- ciled with his sovereign independence ? He would then no longer be that God who is sufficient for himself— that God, to whom David said : Thou art my God, for thou hast no needof my goods. ^ But it will be said : It is not for himself, but for us — it is to make a stronger impression upon our senses and to attract our hearts more securely towards him that such splendour would be required." But where is his omnipotence in that supposition ? Does he not possess supreme authority over the heart ? and is he not able to inspire us with reverence and love, without dazzling us by a vain exterior ? *' But although he does not stand in need of such matters, perhaps he values their worth and is captivated by them/' What, my brethren ! can He who has made the heavens and all the furniture of themf — who has scattered the stars like dust through the firma- ment — who can see nothing, even in the immortal abode of his glory, which is worthy of his esteem and love, except the Father, in whose bosom he is begotten from all eternity — can He be capti- vated by our vanities ? Can he value what even we ourselves do not esteem, and what we know in reality to be nothing more than a heap of filth, or an empty vapour ? 1 can understand how a God would humble himself, through condescension and compassion, to the level of our miseries, but I cannot conceive how he could de- grade himself to such a degree as to borrow our false greatness, and to equip himself in the puerile decorations of our pride. A prince certainly would not degrade his dignity if he condescended to clothe himself in the dress of one of his slaves ; but if he looked for some more splendid rags amidst the tatters of slavery, for the purpose of making it a paltry badge of distinction and dignity, would not any one blush for such miserable ambition ? Accordingly, when a God condescends to humble himself for the salvation of man, so as to make himself like him, his dignity requires that he should not undergo that humiliation by halves ; that he should not seek the consolation of an infinite abasement in a vain display of greatness. In proportion, then, as I perceive what reveals a human majesty in the birth of an infant Saviour, the less can I recognize a divine Majesty, and I must proportionably attribute all to the invention of man ; for it is after this system that inventions are devised. * Pj?. XV. 2. t Gen. ii. n. SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 41 But where is the man who, when left to the suggestions of his own mind, to imagine and describe the coming of the Son of the Eternal descending upon earth at length after four thousand years of expectation and impatient desires, could conceive the idea -of having Him born in a stable — of exhibiting him there laid upon straw, between mean animals, feeble, silent — exposed almost naked to the violence of a rigorous season ? "Who is the man who, if he described an angel appearing to announce such great tidings, instead of putting magnificent expressions in the mouth of this heavenly messenger, could think of making him say — " A Saviour, V/ who is Christ the Lord, is born. This is the sign whereby you }^ shall recognize him : Yoic shall find the infant wrapped in swad- ling-clothes, and laid in a manger T* No, my brethren, no ; this sublime simplicity is no human language^ No ; all this scene, which is so humble, and, at the same time, so august — which ap- peals so powerfully to the soul, and flatters the senses so little, is not of human invention. I find nothing in it which our intel- lect could conceive — nothing which is proportioned to the con- ceptions and the intellect of man. In it I recognize those thoughts of God, which are not our thoughts ; those profound mysteries of God, which the prophet styles a vast abyss ; that true greatness of God, which manifests itself in this as well as in the universe, by remaining invisible there, and which manifests itself so much the more clearly as it conceals itself under meaner appearances ; for, my brethren, where could we find a certain proof of divine greatness, if we did not find it in great and admirable effects, produced by the most trifling causes and the most feeble means ? Now, if this principle be true, look upon this child who weeps in a manger — w^hat can be more mean, more feeble, and more powerless ? But see what he effects in the world, both before and after his birth. From the very dawn of creation every thing speaks of him — every thing announces him — every thing sighs after his coming, and during four thousand years, the heavens and the earth are in labour to give him birth; all the saints, from Abel downwards, are sanctified through him alone ; the prophets are inspired for no other purpose than to describe his person and to write his history by anticipation ; the vocation of Abraham, the mission of Moses, the choice of the people of God, the laws and the religion which were given to this people, the priesthood of Aaron, and that of Melchisedech, have their fulfilment and their end in the mystery of Bethlehem ; empires rise and fall for no other purpose than to prepare this one event to which every thing in the universe tends. Scarce has it been ac- complished — scarce has the humble Son of Mary beheld the light, than the Magi hasten from the East to lay their treasures at His feet. His name alone has thrown Jerusalem into consternation ; the * Luke, ii. 12. 42 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. assembled synagogue deliberates upon the interpretation of the oracles which concern him ; the impious Herod trembles upon his throne ; all the power and all the perfidy of this cruel tyrant are in- sufficient to stifle in the cradle a feeble infant who has no protector upon earth. Suffer events to arrive at their consummation. As the sun diffuses a light, always increasing from the moment when it sends forth its rays, at the limits of the east, until it has reached the middle of its course, and fills the air with its illumination, and dazzles every eye with the lustre of its rays, so also the splendour of the divinity concealed in the obscurity of a stable, and under the resemblance of childhood, insensibly penetrates every veil which covers it, and shines from day to day with a brighter and purer lustre than before, whilst the divine Infant grows in years and reaches the consummation of His glorious career. When only twelve years old, he astonishes the sages of Israel and the interpre- ters of the law with His wisdom, by merely addressing to them some questions in the temple ; His replies afterwards confound the Pharisees and Sadducees, the Scribes and the doctors, the priests and the pontiffs ; He speaks as no man ever spoke before Him ; He makes multitudes eagerly pursue Him ; He commands nature to obey Him ; He reveals the hidden secrets of the heart ; He cures every disease ; He restores again to life some who were J dead four days ; He makes all Judea the theatre of His miracles / ^^nd fills it with the report of His name ; — He dies ; the sun refuses ^ its light, the earth shakes to its very foundations, the world seems ready to fall back again into its original chaos ; He comes forth victorious from the grave, and, as He had foretold it, the whole world assumes a new face ; the idols are abandoned, the morals of the nations altered, the gospel and its divine philosophy substituted for the reveries of false sages and the most monstrous errors ; the God, who was born in a stable, and died upon a gibbet, receives incense from the whole earth ; and at the end of eighteen hundred years, He alone is adored by every civilized people, and extends His empire every day still further into every remote and barbarous country. All these miracles have begun at Bethlehem ; they are the fruits of this manger, of these rags, of this abject and humili- ating birth, whose mystery we celebrate this day. And must we not recognize the greatness of God in such trifling means attended by such effects ? And shall Ave not acknowledge that here is the hand of Him who sows imperceptible grains to produce immense forests, who moulds a little clay to form the human race from it, and gives a fertility to chaos w^hich makes it produce the universe ? Y' Oh, beloved Apostle ! I now comprehend the reason why, after Y"^ having said that the word was made flesh,* you do not add that in such a state all His glory is obscured, all His greatness and SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 43 His majesty have disappeared in the excess of His humiliations ; but you say, on the contrary, the word was made flesh ; and we have seen his glory, the glory as it were of the only begotten Son of the Father ; for, by making Himself flesh, He made Himself a child ; He made Himself, in appearance, the poorest and the most feeble of children; and by this He seemed to annihilate Himself; but from the depth of the infirmities of His childhood, from the abyss of His annihilation, shines forth a lustre which could emanate from Him alone, and which, in every respect, is worthy of the only Son of God. Mark this well, my brethren. If He had appeared under the form of a haughty giant, or of a powerful king, or of a philosopher or sage, we would have seen His glory; but in our eyes, it should necessarily be the glory of man. We would have ascribed His most wonderful success either to His gigantic strength or to the valour of His armies, or to the superiority of His learning or talents. If He had come, attended by numerous heavenly le- gions, who should have executed his commands, and accompanied Him at every step, we would have also seen His glory ; but it would be a glory which He would have shared with the angels, and would seem to be indebted for some portion of it to their assistance. If He had come down in all the splendour of the Divinity — surrounded by thunders and lightnings, as upon Sinai, or encircled with His own light, and eclipsing the rays of the sun, as upon Thabor — we would have seen His own glory, it is true — the glory which is peculiar to Him alone ; but seeing Him thus display, as it were, His undiminished majesty, we might, perhaps, suppose that He stood in need of all His splendour and strength to dazzle and subdue mankind. But when He comes to make a conquest of the world, and, as it were, loses all His arms, divests Himself of all His splendour, and, to a certain extent, of Himself, when He humbles Himself to the depths of infirmity — even to the annihilation of feeble and speechless childhood; when He descends to the igno- miny of a stable, confines Himself in a manger, is surrounded with swaddling clothes ; when, after all this. He triumphs over all the powers of earth and hell, overthrows the empire of idolatry, and makes Himself be every where recognized as the true God of the universe, does He not manifest, in an inexpressible and divine man- ner, the incommunicable glory of Him whose very meekness, according to St. Paul, is stronger than all creatures, and whose humiliations are above all dignities ? We have seen His glory. Having now proved that the birth of Jesus Christ, which is so humble and abject to the eyes of the senses, was, therefore, best adapted to the greatness of a Man-God, let us show from these same circumstances that it is also the most worthy of His wisdom. II. — St. Paul not only assures us that the weakness of God is stronger than men ; but he also adds — and you must admire the bold language of this great apostle — that the foolishness of God is 44 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. more wise than all the wisdom of men.* Now it is in the mystery of the manger no less than in the mystery of the cross, that we are enabled to explain and justify this astonishing expression. An infant God — a God who weeps — a God, stretched under the very roof which shelters the meanest animals, and on the very straw upon which they trample — a God, clothed in paltry rags, enduring cold and hunger, and stretching forth His feeble hands towards a mortal mother who warms Him in her bosom and nourishes Him with her milk — is a spectacle which may well, indeed, be styled a sort of divine foolishness. But this apparent foolishness conceals beneath it a profound wisdom which infinitely surpasses all the wisdom of creatures ; or rather all the wisdom of creatures is nothing more than real foolishness in its presence ; for the foolishness of God is wiser than men. This is the mystery which we must explain. The Messiah was sent to reform the vices of men and to remove their errors ; now all the errors and all the vices of men arise from three great sourcess — pride, voluptuousness, and the insatiable thirst of riches. What has been done by all these famous philosophers who, from age to age, have exhibited themselves as the masters of wisdom and the teachers of virtue, to close up those three poisoned springs — to heal those three mortal disorders of the human heart ? Nothing — absolutely nothing. Their false maxims, and their se- ductive examples, had even aggravated the disorder to which their sounding declamations could apply no remedy. At length the true teacher of nations — He who was to repair the calamities of the uni- verse — appeared in the fulness of time. How shall he accomplish what so many men, celebrated for their science and their talents, had tried in vain ? What industry will he employ ? Perhaps, in order to undertake so great a work. He will at least wait until He reaches the ordinary maturity of age and reason ; perhaps He will prepare Himself by long study and profound meditations, and seek some vast theatre on which He may proudly, display the treasures of His learning and the victorious energy of His eloquence. Ah! my brethren, such would be the means ^ind the wisdom of man. But consider the wisdom and the means of God ; He begins to instruct at His very birth ; His school is a stable. His chair is a manger, His lessons — ah ! who would believe it ? — are His tears, His suffer- ings. His humiliations, His nakedness, His silence itself. Oh, astonishing lessons ! But how powerful and how efficacious they are ! In the first place, observe how they correct pride. Man was intoxicated by the notion of his own excellence. Having fallen by his own prevarication from the exalted rank in which the goodness of the Creator had placed him, he preserved nothing of his original dignity but an unjustifiable esteeiti of himself and a criminal desire * 1 Cor. i. 25. SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 45 of elevation and greatness. He gloried in his reason, and in the power which it gave him over the beings by which he was sur- rounded, instead of blushing at the vices which had degraded him almost below the brute. Deprived of true glory, which he had lost, together with his innocence, he was, on that account, only the more desirous of that false glory which elevates and corrupts the heart. He could not endure either a master or a rival. He had even carried his audacity and his madness to such a degree as to make himself equal to the Deity, and to place the corruptible image of man upon the altar, instead of the immortal God. How was it possible, then, to control such a blind and unbridled passion ? How could he be taught to know himself, and be forced to despise him- self, and to descend by voluntary humility from the summit of his pride to the lowest depths of his mearmess and nothingness ? Con- ceive, if you can, any means which is more efficacious to effect this end than the spectacle which is presented to us at Bethlehem. Look at this wonderful annihilation of the Saviour in His cradle, and listen to what His very silence proclaims to you. " Oh, man ! you imagine yourself to be something great; see, nevertheless, how low I must humble myself to come near you. You pride yourself upon your reason, and your inclinations make you bear so close a resemblance to the brute, that as I wish to make myself like you, it is in the dwelling-place of mean animals I am born. It is to make you comprehend in what mire you have extinguished the Divine ray which shone within you, that I descend into the filth of this stable. You glory in your learning and wisdom, and because there is nothing in you but ignorance and folly, when eternal wisdom assumes your nature, it must appear in the form of silent and sense- less childhood. You speak of your power and your fortune, but learn the extent of your weakness at length, when you see to what an excess of infirmity even Omnipotence has humbled itself in becoming united to you. Miserable slave of passion I you think you are free, and my limbs are bound with these swaddling clothes, solely to represent the ignominious fetters in which your soul is held captive. Oh, man ! you are desirous of glory ; learn from my ignominious position that it belongs to you no longer, and that you ought to abandon all pretensions to it — or rather learn to discard that empty phantom of glory which deceives you, and seek that true glory whose course I now point out. After having indulged the insane ambition of making yourself equal to God himself, by pride, now conceive the more upright design of approaching Him by humility. By humbling Himself to excess. He has come down to the very level of your misery; by acknowledging your baseness and by embracing His humiliations, you may elevate yom^self be- side His majesty." It is thus the manger teaches proud man not only to humble himself, but even to esteem and to cherish humilia- tion itself— what no other instruction could impart. 46 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. Let US now consider the lessons which the same manger gives the voluptuous man. Pleasure is the mistress and the idol of this world ; the anxiety and agitation of all is directed to attain it. Man desires pleasure at any price ; he strives to make every creature afford it ; he seeks it by every means in his power ; he immolates his conscience before it every day ; he often sacrifices his repose, his honour, and even his very life to the pursuit of it ; in his blind- ness he regards it as the sovereign good ; but if he be illumined by the light of faith — if he pauses to contemplate the manger of the divine Infant, must he not say to himself, *' This is my Saviour, my Model, my Master, and my God. He was born in pain, and shall I exist for no other purpose but the indulgence of pleasure ? He has been laid upon the straw of a stable, and I can repose on the couch of voluptuousness alone ! Miserable rags have been His only covering, and I would only be clothed in delicate and sumptu- ous garments ! His innocent flesh has been exposed, almost without protection, to the piercing blast of the severest winter, and my criminal flesh will not consent to endure the most trifling mortifica- tion ! Ah ! if the pleasures of life could be reconciled with virtue, as easily as I endeavour to persuade myself, why should a God made man wish to experience their privations and troubles alone ? It is therefore true, that pleasure is a fatal poison since He rejects it so far from Him, even from His birth, and that the mortification of the senses is a salutary remedy for our souls, since, in order to give us the example. He begins to practise it as soon as He begins to live. Base world ! thou, therefore, deceivest thyself, when thou say est that time is given for enjoyment, and that the first years, at least, ought to be spent in joy and pleasure, for our Redeemer has not known this division, and the beginning as well as the end of His days on earth has been consecrated to austerity and tears." Such are the sentiments which are inspired by the mere sight of the cradle of Jesus Christ — sentiments which could never be in- spired by all the subtle reasonings or all the eloquent declamations of human philosophy. But is this spectacle, which is so eflScacious against pride and the pursuit of pleasure, less destructive to avarice, the third source of the misfortunes and the crimes of mankind ? Who could refrain from seeing a most clear condemnation and a species of reprobation of riches in all those signs of poverty and indigence which surround the infant Saviour ? When that God, to whom all things belong, preferred the most complete destitution, and the most extreme misery, to all the splendours of opulence and fortune ; when He came down upon earth to live in the midst of us, must it not be inferred from such a fact, that the goods which He rejects and despises are not real goods, and that all our treasures of filth deserve nothing but contempt ? What discourse could inculcate this as effectually as such an example ? And when this selfsame God will SERMON ON THE HUMILIATION OF JESUS CHRIST. 47 afterwards pronounce that admirable maxim — *' Blessed are the poor ;" when He shall add this terrible threat — " Woe unto you rich men ;" what will He teach but what His birth has already inculcated in an equally emphatic manner; but what the stable, the manger, and the swaddling clothes distinctly proclaim. ^' Hoc prei.\ All our thoughts were therefore error, and all our maxims illusion and falsehood." Ergo erravimus.% Oh, fatal and irremediable error whose consequences must be eternal ! That we may never fall into it ourselves, my brethren — that we may not be condemned to witness the greatness and the felicity of the saints with sorrow and despair upon a future day — let us now contemplate their happiness with love and gladness ; let us glorify those great souls with transports of admiration ; let us unite with the Church in applauding the triumph of those true heroes ; let us imitate those perfect models of every virtue ; let us invoke the assistance of those powerful intercessors ; and let us for the future cherish no other ambition and no other desire than to make ourselves worthy, by a truly Christian life, of being associated with their glory and happiness for all eternity. Amen. * Wis. V. 2. t Ibid. 3. % Ibid. 4. § Ibid. tl Ibid. 5. t Ibid. 6. 136 SBRMONS rOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. SEEMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. FOR THE FEAST OF ALL SAINTS. *' Jtisti autem in perpetuum vivent. " The just shall live for ever more." — Wisdom, v. 16. One of the great ends which the Church proposes to herself upon this day, in the veneration which she exhibits towards the immortal host of the saints, is, to excite within our minds the consideration and the desire of our own immortahty. Alas ! surrounded as we are, by so many miseries here below — subject to so many humili- ating infirmities — condemned to the sad necessity of dying — what hope could be more precious to us than the hope of another and a better life, in which we shall be released from sin, and suffering, and death, for ever ? And yet — to their shame be it spoken — how many men are insensible to this blessed hope ! how many — must we confess it ? — are the enemies of their own immortality ! how many use violent means to persuade their minds not to believe it, and, in order to banish their alarm, take refuge in the awful, but yet ineffectual, hope of annihilation ! Oh, divine religion of the Christians ! how consoling art thou to the just man 1 what transports and what delight dost thou cause him, when, not content with promising him a glorious and never- ending future beyond the hmits of time, thou art also pleased to show hira his brethren already in possession of the blessings which await him there — when thou dost lead him to sing and celebrate his future happiness in that which they enjoy — when, even before he is introduced into the blissful abode which they inhabit, thou dost even at present admit him to a participation in their joys by the heavenly splendour and holy jubilation of thy solemnities ! Yes, my brethren, we may regard this festival as the festival of our own immortality. We shall, therefore, seek no other subject for this discourse besides that immortality itself, the consciousness of which is engraved by nature upon the bottom of our hearts, the belief of which is common to every people, although the perfect knowledge, SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 137 the clear and accurate belief of it, can be had in the true jeligion alone. For if religion teaches us that there is something within us which shall never die, that the more noble portion of our being shall survive the dissolution of this body of clay, we have need of faith, to learn that the body itself shall not perish for ever ; that the slime of which we are composed shall be animated with the breath of life ; and that the whole man, after having triumphed over death, shall enjoy a never-ending happiness in the bosom of God. Thus will the beautiful expression of the Scripture — that God created man incorruptible'^ — be fulfilled. No portion of his being shall be destroyed. His soul, being a spiritual substance, is, by its very nature, beyond the reach of death ; the torment of death shall not touch it ;t and his flesh, corruptible as it is, will descend into the dust of the tomb only to come forth incorruptible upon a future day. For this corruptible must put on incorruption.X Our present subject, then, may be expressed in two words : the im- mortality of the whole being of man — first of the soul which cannot perish ; secondly, of the body which shall return again to life, never more to die. Great God ! sustain my weakness. Endue me with words of life and fervour, which may awaken the belief and the desire of a blessed immortality. Ave Maria, §^c. I — To maintain that death is the destruction of the whole being of man, and that the soul sinks into annihilation at the moment of the dissolution of the human frame, is a blasphemy against God and a denial of His wisdom. His goodness, and His justice. In the first place, if that insane supposition were admitted, what would become of the wisdom of the Creator ? Is it not evident, at first sight, that man is the most excellent of all the beings which this visible world contains, and that every thing else has been crea- ted for him alone ? For what other occupier could this magnificent palace have been prepared ? For what other could the sun send forth its light and heat ? For what other could the earth be covered with its harvests, and all nature display such a gorgeous and delight- ful spectacle ? Is it not manifest to every one that the air which . surrounds us is destined to support his life, the water of the streams to quench his thirst and to fertilize his fields, and the brute creation to serve him as their monarch ? He is the only being here below who bears the impress of the Deity, and exercises His privi- leges with an authority which no other power can abridge. In vain do the savage monsters confide in their strength ; he subjugates and controls them by the might of reason alone. In vain does the earth conceal the precious metals which his industry demands, within the depths of its mines ; he tears them from its lowest depths, to fashion them to all his wants. In vain does the sea moan * Wis. ii. 28. t Ibid. iii. 1. % I Cor. xv. 53. 138 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. and heave its angry waves to heaven ; he compels it to submit to his will, and, despite its murmurs, to bear him to the farthest limits of the globe. The winds may blow with fury, but he can arrest them in his sail, and compel them to bear him in safety to the wished-for haven. Every thing in existence becomes obedient to his will, or tributary to his wants. The stars in the firmament must be subjected to his calculations, and must serve to direct his course over the immense ocean and the vast deserts. The greatness of his being cannot be estimated by the space which his body occupies on earth, but by the extent of that intellect which spans the universe itself — which, from the invisible point in which it is situated, reaches to the summit of the heavens, and even to the depths of the abyss, looks back into the past, embraces the present, and extends to a never-ending future. It is this spirit or immaterial soul which constitutes the excellence and the dignity of man. It is this noble, active, intelligent, and free substance which is endowed with the faculty of thought, of knowledge, of judgment, and volition. She soars into the regions of the intellect, beholds invisible things, and conceives the idea of infinity. Being both by her nature and by the propensities which are peculiar to her, essentially distinct from that gross material body which she animates and directs, she feels herself degraded if she flatters its desires, and defiled if she obeys them ; she chastises that body ; she makes it her slave and frequently her victim ; she is passionately attached to all that is true, lovely, honourable, and sublime; she finds attractions in virtue which render all other goods contemptible in her sight ; she prefers chastity to indulgence, glory to inaction, and duty to life itself ; she soars aloft to the very bosom of God; she contemplates His ineffable perfections with joy; she blesses Him, she adores Him, and devotes herself, as a holo- caust, to His love. Why sh9uld not every thing else be created for her benefit, when she alone is capable of knowing the Author of all things, of appreciating the full value of His favours, of hold- ing a heavenly intercourse with Him, of presuming to call Him Father, and of paying Him, on behalf of all other creatures, that tribute of praise and thanksgiving which is due to Him ? Such is the soul of man, who is formed to the image of God — who is little less than the angels^ — that soul which is incomparably superior to every other object in creation — which is so pure and heavenly in its origin, so highly exalted above all that is earthly and corruptible, that the holy Scriptures even designate it as the breath of the Most High. Inspiravit iiifaciem ejus spiraculum vitce.j- And shall it be supposed, forsooth, because the slime of which the body is composed shall fall to pieces, that the soul, which is altogether spi- ritual, must therefore perish along with it ? — that because dust re- * Ps. viii. 6. t Gen. ii. 7. SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 139 turns to dust, and the combination of gross and material elements is broken up and decomposed, must it be believed that a simple and immaterial substance — which is incapable of decomposition, as it is not composed of parts — shall therefore be crushed in the same ruin with that edifice of clay which falls to pieces ? No ; there cannot be a natural death or dissolution for the soul. It can only be annihilated by an act of Divine Omnipotence. But, O great God ! Thou wilt never annihilate it; Thy wisdom affords me a sufficient security that Thou wilt not. What design could any one presume to impute to Thee in such a supposition ? What ! Thou hast created the whole world for man's benefit ; and Thou wouldst create man for the sole purpose of destroying him ? Thou wouldst have produced, at such immense cost, an empty shadow, which will vanish in a moment ? Whilst we, feeble mortals as we are, would endeavour to impress the seal of immortality upon the works of our hands, canst Thou — immortal and divine artist — source of lif^ and being — make death and anni- hilation the end of all Thy works ? Like a thoughtless and capri- cious architect, or a child at play, shalt Thou build only to pull down, and plant only to root up ? And, at the end of time when this great destruction would have been consummated and this homi- cidal game would have been played, if one of the heavenly spirits should ask Thee over the ruins of this world, " Why, O Lord, hast Thou come forth from Thy repose ? What end hast Thou proposed to Thyself in the stupendous work of forming a world which is now no more — in creating this countless host of animate and inanimate beings, all of which excited our admiration, and many of which were endowed with intelligence like ourselves, and practised such sublime virtues ?" — Thy reply to such a question could only be, " Look at those smouldering ruins, those piles of ashes, and bones, and dust ; this is the end of so many miracles ; this is the only ob- ject I had in view in my eternal designs ; this is all that shall re- main at length, after all the works of the Almighty." Oh, God ! who could refrain from believing that he blasphemed Thy wisdom by attributing such language to Thee ? But would such a design be less inconsistent with Thy goodness ? If we were destined, my brethren, to perish altogether, it should be confessed that the Creator, so far from acting as a father towards us, would, on the contrary, have distinguished our nature by so many glorious privileges, for the sole purpose of making us the most miserable amongst all created beings ; and His most signal favours would be nothing more than refined cruelty in our regard. Man, when considered according to the body, is subject to more infirmity and affliction than any other living creature. He alone anticipates calamities by foreseeing them, aggravates the bitterness * of their infliction, multiplies their number, prolongs them by reflec- tion, by long-indulged remembrance, and by bitter regret. If old 140 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. age and death befal others as well as him, he is the only being who is afflicted by the melancholy foretaste of decay ; he is alone capable of seeing the fatal moment approach, and of knowing the terrors of an inevitable dissolution, and the frightful corruption of the grave. What other but himself can experience the afflictions of the soul, which are a thousand times more intense than all the sufferings of the body — oppressive anxiety, corroding anguish, gloomy melancholy, and dreadful despair ? In addition to the sor- rows which assail himself, he is also a sharer in the afflictions of others. He is afflicted at the calamities of those he loves ; he is alarmed at their dangers ; he suffers, as it were, another death, whenever the grave deprives him of a friend or relative. In the midst of so many afflictions and miseries, to aggravate his torments to their fullest extent, he has a burning desire of happiness ; he seeks and pursues it by an irresistible impulse of his nature ; he endeavours to find it in every object which surrounds him ; he would purchase it at any price ; he^cannot be contented without it ; and yet, he can find it no where. All that he encounters, as being capable of satisfying his desires, serves only to deceive himself and to inflame these desires still more strongly. He bears the idea of a perfect, unchangeable, infinite good, which is alone proportioned to his wants, and to the boundless cravings of his heart, deeply en- graved upon his inmost soul ; and he meets with nothing but limited and perishable goods ; he tries these in succession, and he soon despises them. No beauty can continue to delight him for any length of time, because he discovers the defects of every one of them, and. sooner or later they all decay. Amusements weary him with their frivolity ; the pleasures of the senses are too contempti- ble, and they terminate in satiety and disgust ; the embarrassment and anxiety which riches cause are greater than the joys which they bring, and they have never yet made a man happy ; honours, dignity, and power, are nothing more than a dignified slavery, and their most frequent effects are torment, embarrassment, and tire- someness ; glory is a vain sound, and a mere vapour which leaves the heart always empty, but never heals its sadness ; science is a mere illusion, 'for the most learned are ignorant of inore than all their studies could teach them. Couldst Thou, therefore, oh, my good God ! have created man for the sole purpose of making him endure calamities which are but too real, and waste his energies in the pursuit of imaginary benefits? The brute can gratify his grovelling appetites, and he is happy ; but for my part, I suffer a hunger and thirst which nothing in this, world can appease ; I feel a craving after existence, life, perfect beauty, unfailing truth, hap- piness without alloy, greatness and glory which must last for ever. These are my 'wants; Thou hast given them to me, and to satisfy those wants. Thou hast prepared annihilation for me. If I can expect nothing beyond this present world and time, why SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 141 shouldst Thou implant desires within me which are more vast than the universe, and which extend beyond all duration ? why shouldst Thou give me thoughts which live upon infinity, and hopes which run into an endless future? If death must be my only portion, whence arises this horror of destruction, this longing and this invin- cible passion for immortality ? If I must never see Thee, or never possess Thee, O Lord ! why have I been allowed to know Thee ? why have I learned that Thou art my only good ? why hast Thou sunk an abyss in my bosom, which Thou alone canst fill ? Being now fully satisfied and certain, . O my God ! that Thou hast not created a deceitful assurance within me, and that this earth is no- thing more than a place of pilgrimage and trial, in which I prepare myself for a blessed eternity, I cheerfully submit to every trial which I must endure in order to arrive at the consummation and crown of all my wishes ; but, if it be true — as senseless mortals have the temerity to assert — that Thou dost make me tread the toil- some path of life, in the midst of so much trouble and affliction, and that Thou wilt sacrifice and annihilate me when my course is run, how can I bless Thee for having given me existence ? how can I have faith in Thy goodness, which is the most adorable of all thy attributes ? Finally, my brethren, to admit this monstrous supposition, would be to destroy all our notions of divine justice. We cannot ob- serve human society, and the moral world, without being struck by the discord and confusion which prevail there. What is to be seen there ? and, above all, what have we ourselves beheld? p]very right, and every obligation trampled under foot — adultery, rapine, and murder escaping with impunity — vice respected, and virtue scarce able to find the smallest encouragement — impiety ap- plauded — religion consigned to insult and derision — horrible con- spiracies openly formed against the sacred majesty of justice, and even against heaven itself — frightful revolutions shaking the foun- dations of empires — scaffolds streaming with innocent blood — unjust laws condemning fidelity, and commanding treason and re- volt — abominable doctrines inculcated upon unsuspecting child- hood, imprudent youth, and an ignorant multitude, as if such doctrines had been the precepts of the sublimest wisdom — a plan devised, and perseveringly followed up, to plunge the world into its primitive chaos, and to degrade man to the condition of the brute — such a wonderful corruption of public morality, that decency would not suffer us to reproach ourselves with the vices of which we have been guilty. If other generations have not witnessed the like excesses, at all times, there have been successful usurpations, bar- barous wars, bloody rebellions, and acts of crying injustice ; at all times there have been bad men, who prospered, and good men, who groaned beneath oppression. And is it possible that God could remain. a calm and careless spectator of such terrific scenes, and 142 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. that He could suffer them to succeed each other throughout the whole course of ages, without adding to them a closing scene, and a consummation worthy of Himself, which may repair so many disorders, and ultimately accomplish the triumph of His justice ? What do I say? Would He not aggravate the horrors of the scene, if He waited for all the actors who' had borne a part in it, as they came forth from this theatre which had been so much de- filed with blood and guilt, for the sole purpose of striking them down indiscriminately with the same everlasting death, making no dis- tinction between the innocent and the guilty, between the saint and the sacrilegious wretch, between the murderer and his victim ? Oh, God I if such were Thy judgments, who would dare to vindi- cate their justice ? What answer would it be even in Thy power to make to a just man — to a martyr at the very moment when he expired in torments for Thy sake — when he was about to fall into Thy hands, and when he saw Thee ready to plunge him into annihilation, as the reward of his fidelity — if he should then say, " O Lord ! I have fulfilled Thy will to its fullest extent ; I have sacrificed everything to Thee, without reserve. To punish me for having loved Thee so dearly, unjust men who de- tested Thee, deprived me of the life of the body, and Thou wilt now annihilate my soul. I do not murmur. Let Thy sovereign will be fulfilled. I do not regret having shed my blood for Thy sake. I would readily shed it again, if it were in my power. But, oh great God ! must I, after all, expect the same end as Thy enemies and my murderers ? Is this the reward which my submission to Thy justice merits ? and if it were possible for any one to decide between us both, would he pronounce that Thou dost reward virtue as it deserves ?" Moreover, my brethren, this absurd doctrine, that the soul must perish, in whatsoever light we view it, directly leads to blasphemy. Let us, therefore, consign it to those who acknowledge no Deity in this world except an evil genius, or a blind fatalism — to those who can admit no essential diiference between themselves and the brute — who see nothing that can distinguish their ^ouls from the mire of which their bodies are composed — in other words, let us consign this detestable doctrine to the most wicked and senseless amongst all mankind. If such monsters exist, can they be sup- posed to belong to the human race ? Has there ever been a people so savage and unenlightened as not to profess the doctrine of the immortality of the soul ? Has there ever been a man so ignorant and stupid as not to find it engraved upon his intellect and heart ? Has there ever been a wretch or infidel who could silence the voice of reason and the cry of nature within his breast, so as to persuade himself altogether that everything else must end with his crimes, and that those crimes will remain unpunished for all eternity ? Has there ever been a virtuous soul who doubted her SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 143 own immortality, or who was not as certain of it as of her very existence ? What else shall we add to such universal testimony ? Come forth, sacred Scriptures ! — come forth with your sacred authority, and your magnificent promises, to confirm our hopes, and to bring our joy to its consummation. Tell us that death is nothing more than a deceitful appearance; visi sunt oculis insipientiam mori ;* that it leaves the soul in possession of its whole life; vivet aiiima mea ;t that it merely breaks asunder the mortal bonds of the just man, and opens the way for him to rest and peace. Illi autem sunt in pace. X This is what we love to hear; this is what consoles us in every trial; makes every sacrifice which virtue demands, both light and easy ; makes us love our faith§ — which sometimes gives us a rapturous elevation above ourselves, transports us, by anticipation, into the land of the living, into the region of immor- tality, and gives us a delicious foretaste of the ineftable pleasures which are enjoyed there. Credo videre bona Domini in terra viventiiim.\\ But, it is not enough that our souls should never perish. Our bodies shall arise never more to die. II. — As the soul never dies, if the body, which must die, were not destined to arise again upon a future day, the consequence would be, that this admirable combination of two substances which are so different in their natures, and united together by a secret and incomprehensible union, this master-work of the wisdom and power of God, would be destroyed for ever by the stroke of death ; but this combination is precisely what we call man ; and, therefore, if the two portions which compose his being were never again to be united, and if one of them perished beyond recovery, the most wonderful of all the works of the Creator should remain mutilated for all eternity, as if it were beyond his power to pre- serve it, or to restore it to its primitive integrity. Will this body, then, be so vile that the Omnipotent hands which have formed it will disdain to bring it forth again from the dust? It is beyond all doubt, and we have just declared it, that the body is, by its very nature, considerably inferior to the spiritual soul from which it receives life. But amongst all the material works of God, is there one to equal it ? Examine, my brethren, and then decide. The sun dazzles us with its lustre, but does it shine like the eye of man with the fire of genius ? and, if I may use the expression, does it send forth the light of intelligence ? Can the serenity of the loveliest day bear a comparison with the smile which adorns the human countenance — to that expression * " In the sight of the universe they seemed to die," — Wisd. iii. 2. t "My soul shall live." — Ps. cxviii. 175. j " But they are in peace." — Wisd. iii. 3. § Ps. cxiv. 1. If " I believe to see the good things of the Lord in the land of the living." — Ps. xxvi. 13. 144 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. of amiable joy, peace, noble modesty, clemency, and benevolence, which sometimes irradiates every feature ? Are candour and innocence as legible in the fairest heaven as upon the brow of the just man ? The birds delight us with the melody of their notes ; but what are all their concerts in comparison with the words of man, and these wonderful accents which express and communicate sentiment and thought — which, while they strike the ear, enlighten the mind, produce a deep emotion in the heart, bring distant objects near, delineate what is invisible, and convert one of the minutest organs of the body into the admirable instrument of a spiritual intercourse between mind and mind ? Other animals may be endowed with an equal share of beauty, strength, activity, and grace, but is there one among them all which has received the majestic mien of man, those eyes lifted up to heaven, this com- manding attitude, and this dignity which proclaims him to be the monarch of creation ? Oh ! my brethren, how glorious must this body have been in the state of its original beauty — when it came forth, for the first time, from the hands of its Creator — resplendent with glory and majesty, and bearing upon it the living and unsul- lied impress of the Divine resemblance — whereas even in the state of degradation to which it has been reduced by sin, it still so far surpasses all that is most perfect in the visible world, and is still the centre around which all things rally — the only material object which is worthy of the affection and love of the Creator — the only one for which all others exist ? But our bodies, and not our souls, stand in need of this earth, to support and nourish them, and this light of heaven, to enlighten them, and this air which we breathe, to preserve them. What probability can there be, therefore, that the most beautiful and most perfect of all sensible and corporeal objects — that to which every other object only bears a relation — should enjoy the shortest duration of any ? The stars have rolled over our heads for the last six thousand years, without having lost any of their original brightness ; the earth, after so many ages, remains unshaken upon its foundation, and preserves its fertility unim- .paired; the rivers do not find their springs dried up; the cedars and the aged pine-trees still crown the summits of those mountains where our fathers lived in generations far away ; and shall the body of man be like the grass of the field which springs up in the morning, and falls decayed and withered in the evening ? Shall he enjoy a few short moments of Hght and existence, for the mere purpose of being changed at once into a detestable mass of cor- ruption, and to be a prey for ever to putrefaction and worms ? Shall his existence not only be shorter than so many other works of God, which have been created for his use alone, but, what is stranger still, shall his existence be of much shorter duration than even the works of his own hands ? Whilst the stately monuments, the palaces and temples, which he has erected, the brass and SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 145 marble which he has endued, to a certain extent, with animation, by impressing upon them the features of his own resemblance, resist the ravages of time, and will continue to attract the attention of generations in the most distant future, shall he himself be destroyed almost as soon as he begins to exist, and remain buried for ages in that dust out of which he shall never more arise ? And shall he have formed images of himself which are less perishable than the model which has been fashioned by the very hands of the Almighty, and marked with the seal of His divine re- semblance ? Moreover, is not the body of him who builds temples to theDeity, who erects altars in His honour, and adorns them with magnifi- cence, the most worthy sanctuary which that Deity can occupy upon this earth ? What sanctuary can He prefer to the chaste body which is the habitation of a virtuous and pious soul ? What are temples of wood and stone, or even of gold and porphyry, in His eyes, when compared with this living tabernacle which offers Him incense, and honours Him with prayer and adoration ? Behold him fall prostrate as if he would annihilate himself in presence of the Sovereign Majesty ; behold those lips which cleave to the pavement of the holy pla"te, which kiss it with religious respect ; behold those eyes streaming with tears of devotion which are riveted upon the tabernacle — this heart which throbs with the love of God — these hands which are lifted up to heaven, as if to carry the homage of adoration to the very foot of the throne of the Eternal; hsten to the accents of that voice which sings forth His praises Avith such delightful harmony, and which loudly invites every creature to unite in celebrating His wondrous works. But, astonishing fact I it is not enough that this body of clay should render so pure a homage to the author of its being ; it must also imitate His virtues, to a certain extent, and be the instru- ment, the agent, and, as it were, the representative of His bounteous Providence here on earth. Is there any good work which he does not exert himself in perfecting, or one in which^ all his members do not co-operate ? Is not his heart moved to compassion by the sorrowful tale of misfortune ? Is not his arm stretched forth to support or relieve the infirm, to wipe away the tears of the afflicted, to shut up alms in the hearts of the poor ? Do not his hands labour to clothe the naked, to feed the hungry, to smooth the couch of the feeble and infirm ? Do not the words of tenderness and consolation — the most salutary and most consoling balm which charity can pour upon the wounds of the heart — issue from his lips? In a word, what benefit has any feeling or generous soul ever conferred upon mankind, without the co-operation of the body which often contributes the most impor- tant assistance ? It sometimes exhausts its entire strength, and is 146 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. altogether consumed in the service of God and the neighbour. And is it possible that God, who is goodness itself, could reward such services, by devoting both soul and body to everlasting destruction ? Could He unmercifully form a never-ending separa- tion between the soul and the body which have been so sacredly united for the performance of every duty of piety and mercy ? No, no ; O Lord ! I could never believe it. Moreover, my brethren, it is true that when sin poisoned the source of all the generations of mankind, and caused its fatal poison to circulate even to the very centre of our being, it provoked the wrath of God against that flesh which He had created in a state of innocence, and which such hideous corruption had defiled in His sight. He could not look upon His work dis- figured, and He, therefore, broke it; but, O, design worthy of Him- self ! it was only to reconstruct, upon a more perfect model, what the poison of the serpent had disfigured, and not to destroy what His own wisdom had formed. How admirable and how divine are those mysteries which reli- gion presents to the contemplation of faith ! A God clothing Himself in human flesh, in order to purify it — suffering death in order to overturn its empire — coming forth victorious from the grave, in order to gain the victory over it for our sakes — making His glorified body become, in its resurrection, the principle, and, as it were, the source of the resurrection of our bodies also — nourishing them with the Holy Eucharist, in order that they may be one and the same as Himself, by an ineff'able union — filling them with the very spirit of life, by the abundant effusion of the Holy Spirit which He imparts to them in all the sacraments of the New Law — and when they are about to return to the dust, marking them by extreme unction with the seal of life and immor- tality. Hence arises the peace with which the Christian goes down to the grave ; hence, the respect which w^e bear to his cold remains, the prayers and ceremonies which render his obsequies so affecting, and which impart an august character to such a melancholy office ; hence, the solemn benediction which conse- crates the earth prepared to receive him, and the sublime in- scription graven on the stone which covers him — " Here reposes a faithful servant who has fallen asleep in the Lord, in the hope of awaking upon the last day." Thus it is that God gains a complete victory over hell ; thus He re-establishes that work in all its inte- grity, which the tempter had vainly flattered himself with having destroyed. Man, who is formed after the likeness of the Creator, yields for a moment to death, in order that by a miracle no less wonderful than creation itself, he may arise again to a second life, more glorious than the first ; and if we be allowed to compare what is so great with what may seem insignificant, although it deserves our admiration — as the creeping insect which trails upon SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 147 the slime of this earth, comes forth, clothed with renewed vigour, displaying its brilliant wings, cleaving the air, and resting only upon flowers, after having been released from the confinement of a sepulchre in which it had remained for some time immured in a motionless and almost inanimate state, so also the body of man which had been at first heavy, carnal, corruptible, subject to a thousand humiliating wants, and resembling the first earthly and sinful Adam in every particular, after having left all that was gross and mortal behind him in the grave, shall come forth regenerated, spiritual, impassible, more brilliant, and more pure than the stars in the firmament, and what is still more, transformed into the resemblance of the second heavenly and divine Adam, to become a sharer in his privileges and immortality. Reformahit corpus humi- litatis nostrce coiifiguratum corpori claritatis suce."^ This is an ecopomy worthy of God — too great and magnificent to be conceived by another than Himself. Every part of it implies an infinite power, wisdom, and goodness ; every part of it proclaims the eternal Being, the only source of existence, who alone liveth, and is alone unchangeable, because every part of it tends to existence, life, eternity, and immortality. In every other economy I can detect the conceptions of a feeble, contracted intelligence, which has sprung from nonentity, and continues shrouded in dark- ness, because I see all its plans terminate in nothing, in death, and a never-ending night. Let senseless unbelievers now come forward; and let them advance in opposition to these exalted and divine reflections — to the imposing authority of all the Scriptures — to the undeniable fact of the resurrection of Jesus Christ, and the conclusive inferences which St. Paul deduced from that resurrection — in opposition to all these let them advance — what ? I feel ashamed to mention it. It is the imaginary impossibility which must prevent Almighty God from restoring that which is dead to life again — although He has given life to that which had never before existed — and from finding the scattered elements of our bodies in what they term the vast womb of nature — although He has been able to find them in the deep abyss of nothing. They may again and again advance those vain objections, when even Pagans would blush to advance, and which they have abandoned ; they only deserve our contempt ; and it will be sufiicient for us to reply that one thing alone is impossible to God — that He should be incapable of performing whatever He pleases, or of fulfilling whatever He has promised ; that to suppose it possible for an unlimited power to be thwarted by any obstacle is to reach the utmost limits of absurdity — it is a contradiction in terms ; that no one can be justified in denying the resurrection, * " He will reform the body of our lowness, made like to the body of His glory." — Phil. iii. 21. l2 148 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. because it is incomprehensible, unless he can point out, at least, one work of God which he can fully comprehend — unless he can comprehend his own existence, which is an impenetrable mystery ; and that, finally, when we every day see learned men who have filched from nature a portion of its secrets, and who decompose material substances before our very eyes — when we see them form new substances from a skilful combination of these elements, and decompose these substances again, and reconstruct the original sub- stances from these very same elements — it would be most extraor- dinr.ry that the Sovereign Author of nature should not be able, after the dissolution of our bodies, and the different changes which they must sustain, to collect their scattered elements once more, to rebuild the edifice of our members, and thus to re-establish His original creation. Oh ! how easy it will be for the creative and omnipotent Word to accomplish this miracle ! At the sound of the trumpet, that is to say, at the voice of the Son of God, how readily shall the air, the water, the earth, and the deep abyss restore the remains of our bodies which may have been wasted, hidden, evaporated, con- sumed in a thousand different ways ; our ashes and scattered dust shall unite in the twinkling of an eye, and resume the shape in which they had been once embodied ; and all those who had been dead shall issue forth alive from their graves, and appear together in presence of the Supreme Arbiter of their destiny, to receive the recompense which their works deserve. Et dedit mare mortiios ; et mors et infcrnus dederunt mortuos suos ; et judicatum est de singulis* Such then, my brethren, will be the consummation of all things, or rather, such will be the beginning of a new order of things which must last for ever. Behold your destiny — you men who are born for immortality — who now hear me. Your soul, that nobler portion of your being, by which you resemble God and His angels, does not cease to live when the breath of life abandons the body, but it escapes at that moment from its prison, and wings its flight to the region of the living which is its resting-place for all eternity. Your body itself shall not remain for ever swallowed up in that grave to which it is compelled to descend. There it is consumed, but only to disengage itself from everything corruptible which it had retained, and to qualify itself to receive the undecaying form which it shall one day assume, in the same manner as the gold is dissolved in the furnace, to come forth more pure and brilliant than before. O, children of men ! how have you forgotten what you are, and what you are destined to become upon a future day ? Why should your hearts be weighed down and fastened to this * " And the sea gave up the dead that were in it ; and death and hell gave tip their dead that were in them ; and they were judged, every one according to their works."— Apoc. XX, 13. SERMON ON THE IMMORTALITY OF MAN. 149 earth which is not your country ? When you have been formed to enjoy such great and substantial benefits — when you have been invited to possess, not the appearance and the shadow, but the substantial reahty of unalloyed happiness and true glory — how can you adhere to trifles which deceive you, and to phantoms which vanish from your grasp as you strive to embrace them ? Filii kominum, usquequo gravi corde ? lit quid diligitis vanitatem et qucEritis mendacium .?* Avaricious man ! what benefit shall you derive from this treasure of filth which you accumulate at the expense of so many solicitudes and such great sacrifices ? Wliat sympathy can exist between this vile metal of which death must soon deprive you, and the immortal spirit which animates you ? Alas ! with what eternal indigence and destitution must you not expiate this insane passion for perishable riches, upon a future dav ? Ut quid diligitis vanitatem et quceritis mendacium. ? And you, haughty slave of pride ! what is that vapour of glory which you so eagerly desire, but illusion and falsehood? Has it ever afforded you a single moment of real and unalloyed happiness, to compensate for the ignominy and reproach whicli it will compel you to endure for all eternity ? Ut quid diligitis vanitatem et quceritis mendacium ? But, above all, O voluptuous man ! what do you endeavour to obtain in the slime of the most ignominious pleasures ? Oh ! with what remorse and disgust shall those in- famous inclinations lead you to torments without number, to never- ending despair ! Ut quid diligitis vanitatem et qucBriiis mendacium ? Infatuated mortals ! Abandon, oh ! abandon those criminal con- ceits, and direct all your thoughts and all your energies to the attainment of those substantial benefits and those ineffable delights which will be the eternal rewards of the just. Scitote quoniam mirificavit Dominus sanctum suiim.\ Ask not, ye men of little faith! what pledge shall we give you of^the exalted destiny which we venture to promise you shall enjoy hereafter. Midti dicunt quis ostendit nobis bona.X Ah I Lord, can we require any other pledge or security beside that image of Thy greatness which is inwardly impressed upon our souls, and which distinguishes us so gloriously from every object which surrounds us ? Signatum est super nos lumen vidtus tui Domine.^ How can I doubt that there is some- thing immortal and divine in my nature when I find myself so much superior to all that is not identified with Thyself or that does not bear the character of Thy resemblance — when I feel something- insatiable and immense within me which no created object can appease — in comparison with which all that must have an end is f " 0, ye sons of men, how long will ye be dull of heart ? Why do you love vanity and seek after lying ?" — Ps. iv. 3. f " Know ye also that the Lord hath made His holy one wonderful." — Ps. iv. 4. j " Many say, who showeth us good things ?" — Ibid. 6. § " The light of thy countenance, O Lord, is signed upon us." — Ibid. 7. 150 SERMONS FOR SUNDAYS AND FESTIVALS. nothing — which pervades this visible world on every side — which all finite objects serve only to confine — which can find no rest but in the bosom of infinity, or enjoy no ease or happiness but in Thee alone ? Dedisti Icetitiam in corde meo* Ah ! others may feel a pride in the fertility of their fields ; they may joyfully gather in their rich harvests and the abundant fruits of the olive and the vine; Afructufrumenti vini et olei multiplicati sunt ;t but for my part, my God, whether it may please Thee to give me or to refuse me the gifts of fortune and the short-lived enjoyments of this world, 1 shall live in peace, contented and happy in Thy love alone. In ■pace in idipsum dormiam et requiescam.X The hope of a glorious immortality in Thy kingdom is sufficient to gratify all my wishes and even those desires which are most unbounded. Quoniam tu, JDomine, singulariter in spe constituisti me .^ That this precious hope, my brethren, may be fulfilled in our regard ; that we may be all united together for all eternity in the bosom of our God, is a bless- ing which I sincerely wish you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen, * " Thou hast given given gladness in my heart." — Ps. iv. 7. f " By the fruit of their corn, their wine and oil, they are multiplied." — Ibid. 8. X "In peace, in the self-same I will sleep and rest." — Ibid. 9. § " For Thou, O Lord, hast singularly settled me in hope." — Ibid. 10. 151 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN SEKMON ON DEVOTION TO MAEY. FOR THE FEAST OF THE PURIFICATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN AND OF THE PRESENTATION OF OUR LORD IN THE TEMPLE. " Postquam impleti sunt dies purgationis ejus, secundum legem Moysi, tulerunt ilium in Jerusalem, ut sisterent etim Domino." " And after the days of her purification, according to the law of Moses, were accomplished, they carried Him to Jerusalem, to present Him to the Lord." — Luke, ii. 22. The Church celebrates, upon this day, the Mystery of the Pre- sentation of Jesus Christ in the Temple, together with that of the Purification of Mary. She is pleased, on her most interesting solemnities, thus to unite the Son and the Mother, that we may learn not to separate them in our love, and, that next to the su- preme worship of adoration which is due to our divine Redeemer, nothing should be more precious or more sacred to us than the homage of veneration and respect which is due to the Queen of Virgins. Let us, accordingly, co-operate in the designs of that holy Church which is guided by the spirit of God ; and as we commence the present course of religious instruction, in conformity with an ancient custom, which has been established by the piety of our fathers, on a day so glorious to Mary, let us enter upon it by her praises, and proclaiming her title to the homage which is paid her by the whole Catholic world. I am well aware that in the present age of impiety and pride, some conceited and short-sighted individuals will be found, even amongst those who nominally belong to the body of the faithful, who disdainfully consign every devotion which has the Mother of God for its object, to the ignorant and credulous portion of the people. It is for this very reason I feel myself obliged to vindicate that devotion in presence of this august and enlightened assembly, and to show that there is no devotion more solid, more strictly con- 152 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. formable to the dictates of Christianity, or more worthy of great and exalted minds than this devotion to the Mother of God. My brethren, I do not address the enemies of rehgion, on the present occasion. Those who blaspheme Jesus Christ himself, would find it very difficult to comprehend the obligation of honour- ing His blessed Mother ; I address the disciples of the Gospel, the children of the Church, who are ready to believe and to adore ; and if there be any of this latter class who have suffered themselves to be deluded by the sophisms of some reckless sceptics, and who may have, therefore, conceived an unwarrantable prejudice against the devotions which we practise, in honour of our blessed Lady, I trust I shall remove all such prejudices by the present discourse, and convince all such persons that they cannot have too great veneration, or too much zeal, for such a holy devotion ; first, be- cause it is a devotion which authorities that are most impressive and most sacred in the eyes of faith, oblige them to respect ; and, secondly, because it is a devotion which motives that are most convincing and serious, even in the eyes of reason, make it an obligation on their part to'practise. This is the subject which I shall endeavour to explain at greater length; it is a subject which is iden- tified with all that is most sublime and most afi:ecting in religion ; a subject which cannot fail to afford a lively interest to every feeling heart and Christian soul. Ave Maria, Sfc. I. — Some querulous censors will ask us, "why such extra- ordinary honours are lavished upon Mary ? or should our zeal for her glory admit of no measure or limitation ? that undoubtedly, we ought to hpnour her for the singular privileges which she has received, ai^ the exalted virtues which she has practised ; but is it necessary ;that our temples should continually resound with her praises, that incense should always burn before her images, and that her nafe should be combined with all our other prayers? Are there no oiSer grounds for apprehending abuse or excess in all those devoS)jns which are so popular and so multitudinous in our days? Inst&l of encouraging these devotions from our pulpits, would it not be more judicious to exhibit that reserve and circum- spection whicB^ are so remarkable in Holy Writ — where, it is said, this Virgin is'^o little spoken of — the moderation of the apostles who seem, as it as also asserted, to have observed a marked silence repecting her in their preaching — and the wisdom of the primitive Church and of the ancient fathers, who, we are assured, have been most moderate in praising her and decreeing public services in her honour, lest the Christian people who had been so recently con- verted from the errors of Paganism, may be influenced by some feeling of superstition, which still lingered amongst them, to attri- bute a divine nature to the Mother of a God-made man?" It is thus, my brethren, they pretend to encounter us with the authority of the sacred Scriptures, of the first preachers of the Gospel, of the brightest ages of the Church, and of the holy doc- SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY, 153 tors who were its light and glory. But so far from admitting that these sacred and venerable authorities are opposed to us, we shall appeal to them ourselves, and we shall confidently adduce them to demonstrate that the spirit which enlightened the prophets and apos- tles, which animated the Church from her very birth, which guided the pens of her wisest and most learned doctors, is the very same spirit as that which, at the present day, inspires this religious res- pect, this tender piety towards Mary, with which certain individu- als feel disposed to reproach us as if it were a weakness on our part. But, in the first place, how do they endeavour to estabhsh that the sacred Scriptures pay but little regard to the Blessed Virgin ? If such be the fact, St. Bernard must have been badly acquainted with them when he believed them to be filled with her praises — when he recognized Mary in the promises which had been made to the patriarchs, in the oracles of the prophets, and in a multitude of mysterious symbols and prodigies which prefigured her — " Maria patribus cselitus repromissa — mysticis preefigurata miraculis — ora- culis prasnun-ciata Propheticis."* — when he so confidently assured his hearers that if they read and examined the Scriptures as he had done, they would find Mary pervading them throughout. " Scrutate Scripturas et proba qua3 dico."t And, in proof of this, my brethren, if we open the most ancient of the sacred books — that which records the wonders of creation, and the origin of the human race and of religion, along with that of the world — what shall we find at the very first page ? The fatal transgression of the first progenitors of mankind, who were seduced by the old serpent ; and immediately after, the great and solemn promise of a Redeemer to come, which promise has been the consolation and the only hope of the unhappy posterity of Adam. Now, I ask you, in w^hat terms is that promise expressed ? Is Mary forgotten in it ? Listen, I pray you. The Lord God said to the serpent. Because thou hast done this tliingX — because thou hast introduced sin into the world, by means of a woman — / icill put enmities between thee and the woman., and between thy seed and her seed\ She will bring forth a Son who will be the terror of thy race, and the destroyer of thy empire. She shall at length disarm thee of all thy poison ; she shall crush thy head.§ You perceive, my brethren, in the first oracle which came forth from the lips of God himself — in that which is the foundation of all religion — that of which all the other prophecies are nothing more than its fulfilment — how Mary is an- nounced and solemnly promised to the world in conjunction with Jesus Christ. She appears along with Him in the head of the Book^ of Divine Revelation ; she is described in the most touching and most glowing colours, as the mother of the Redeemer to come, and * Senuon within the Octave of the Assumption. t Homily 2. J Gen. iii. 14. || Ibid. 15. § Ibid. f Ps. xxxix. 8 ; Ilebr. x. 7. 154 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. as the victorious queen who was destined to trample all the powers of darkness heneath her feet. It is thus she has been held forth, four thousand years before her birth, to the hopes and desires as well as to the veneration and love of all mankind. Let us next listen to Isaias, still more recently, predicting that great event to which the salvation of the world is attached. What does this prophet behold ? What is the prodigy which fills him with amazement — that prodigy to which he invites all the atten- tion of the house of David* — that sign which God should give to His people, which should manifest His power to its fullest extent.f That sign, that prodigy, my brethren, is no other than Mary. It is Mary, and her fruitful virginity — Mary, and her divine mater- nity. Hear ye, therefore, O house of David. Behold, a virgin shall conceive and hear a Son, and his name shall he called Em- manuelX — ivhich being interpreted, is God with us.|| She shall be a virgin, and the mother of a God at the same time. Ecce virgo concipiet, et pariet JUium, et vocabitur nomen ejus Emmanuel. All the prophecies are filled with the magnificent figures under which the Holy Spirit represents Mary. She is the precious rod out of the root of Jesse, ^ out of which the Messiah shall rise up as a divine flower — the land of benediction upon which the heavens drop down dew, and which buds forth a Saviour.1[ She is the chaste and only spouse** — the object of the ineffable love of her God — the glorious queen, whom the angels behold with delight, as she stands at the right handft of her Son whom they all adore. But, independently of the figures ajnd predictions of the old law, let us see whether the gospel does not suggest equally sublime ideas of this virgin. Read that gospel, my brethren, and tell me what must we think of a mortal to whom the God of the universe sends a solemn embassy from the highest heavens ?%% — a mortal whom the messenger of heaven accosts with reverence, and con- templates with admiration, and humbles himself in her pre- sence when he says : Hail full of grace !\l — thou in whom the God of majesty abideth : the Lord is with thee — thou whom he has chosen out of the midst of all the daughters of Adam to be the object of His most special benedictions ; blessed art thou among women. What extraordinary praise this is ! And it comes from the lips of an angel. What must we think of a mortal who, by the power of the Most High which overshadowed her, and by the om- nipotent operation of the Holy Spirit within her, has conceived the word made flesh, in her chaste womb, and brought forth the Son of the Eternal, who is her Son also. O, incomprehensible myste- ry ! O, unparalleled dignity of Mary ! But, if we examine still further, what do we read ? That, at the mere sound of her voice, * Isai. vii. 13. \ Ibid. 14. % Ibid. |j Mattli. 1. 23. § Isai. xi. 1. f Ibid. xlv. 8. ** Cant. iv. 9. ft I*s- xUy. 10. XX Luke, i. 26, 27. |||| Ibid. 28. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 155 the spirit of God wa^i poured forth hke a torrent all around her ; that it filled Elizabeth with the wisdom of prophecy, and extending even to the infant whom she bore in her womb, it caused him to leap with a heavenly joy.* Who has ever heard of any prodigies that can be compared with these ? But what seems to me no less striking than all this is, the testimony which this humble virgin gives in her own behalf, when she exclaims in transports of grati- tude, that the Lord had done great and wonderful things to her : Fecit mihi magna qui i^otens est.\ That, by the magnificence of his promises He has been pleased to point her out from the origin of ages, to the faith and reverence of the patriarchs and ancient just : Sicut locutus est ad j^atres nostros ;% and that now, through the excess of His favours. He presents her to receive the homage of all future generations, who shall never cease to style her blessed. Ex hoc heatam me dicent omnes generationes.^ This, my brethren, is only a portion of that picture which the Church presents to us. And is this to take no notice of the greatness of Mary ? It is also asserted that the apostles were studiously silent in their preaching respecting the blessed virgin. But is such the fact ? Whilst the Evangelists have proclaimed so many wonderful things respecting her, could the apostles have made it a rule not even to speak of her ? Who could acknowledge that so strange a contra- diction at all exists ? Have we nothing to determine the truth except argument and conjecture ? Have we not the most authen- tic record of the doctrines which the apostles taught in that creed which they have drawn up with their own hands, which still bears their name, and which we daily repeat ? In this brief exposition of the fundamental principles of Christianity they could not include every doctrine ; and more than one great mystery, more than one important dogma has been omitted ; but does such an omission exist with respect to Mary ? Are her august prerogatives forgot- ten there ? Has there been no place for Mary in the creed of the apostles ? Oh, my brethren ! what a position does she occupy there ! who could refrain from being filled with amazement at be- holding it ? In that creed her name is combined with the adorable names of the three Divine Persons. She appears there in the midst of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, not as a stranger among them, but united to them by the closest and most indis- soluble alliance — in the capacity of a daughter, a spouse, and a mother. Do I exaggerate, my brethren ? Judge for yourselves, and reflect attentively, for once, upon those words which you have perhaps often carelessly repeated. " I believe in God the Father Almighty, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord, who was conceived by the Holy Ghost and born of the Virgin Mary ;" — that is to say, I believe in a God begotten of a God and born of * Luke, i. 44. \ Ibid. i. 49. % Ibid. i. 55. § Ibid. 48. 156 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Mary — the only Son of the Most High, and the real Son of Mary — consubstantial with the Eternal Father, and formed from the substance of Mary — conceived by the Holy Ghost, and con- ceived and born of Mary. O, ineffable union and relationship ! O, amazing affinity between a mere creature and the great Cre- ator ! O, elevation, in comparison with which all the glory of the blessed and the angels fade away into utter insignificance ! A God in three persons, a Man-God, and Mary His mother ; — this is the substance of the whole creed ; this is what the apostles taught ; this is what they explained more at length in their divine preaching. My brethren, this is not to praise and honour Mary ; it is not only to propose her to the most profound veneration of the faithful, but it is to elevate her above all honour, above all praise, above all conception ; and I do not hesitate to assert that, in com- parison with these expressions of the sacred formula of our faith, all the efforts of human eloquence which are made to exalt this in- comparable virgin, all our praises and panegyrics, with all their supposed exaggeration, are nothing more than the feeble language of impotent admiration, which cannot ascend the eminence upon which Mary is placed. We are also assured that the Church of primitive ages felt it a duty to observe moderation and reserve in the praises which she bestowed upon Mary, lest a creature so highly privileged and so holy may be confounded with the Deity in those days when the minds of men were still imbued with Pagan superstition. If such had been the case, my brethren — admitting even that such a pre- caution had been necessary in those days — such necessity ceased to exist very soon after, when Paganism and its errors had disap- ))eaied before the light of the gospel ? But, is it true that the Church, even at its origin, has been so reserved, as it is asserted, in exhibiting its piety towards the mother of God ? To answer this quetion we must appeal to facts ; and because the limits of a dis- course will not allow us to refer to all those which we could adduce, we shall select one illustrious fact in the history of ancient times, which may serve as a criterion of all the others, which, as it were, concentrates all the primitive traditions, and shows, at a glance what the sentiments of the clergy, and faithful of the east and west, of the pastors, doctors, supreme pontiffs, and councils have been, with regard to the Blessed Virgin, and the veneration which is due to her. Towards the close of the fourth century, Nestorius had ascended the see of Constantinople ; and, as his faith had not been sus- pected, he governed that immense flock in peace, which Gregory of Nazianzen and Chrysostom had nourished with the milk of the most holy doctrine. But the heresiarch, disguised in sheep's cloth- ing, suddenly disclosed himself from the summit of the episcopal throne ; and, in the temple of the Lord, Nestorius gave utterance SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 157 to these remarkable words : " We should not say that Mary is the mother of God, lest we may seem to make a goddess of that virgin ; by doing so, we would justify the practice of the Pagans who give mothers to their gods." At these words, his faithful hearers, who could not be deceived by the hypocrisy of such lan- guage, break forth into murmurs of disapprobation ; a courageous voice openly accuses the impious bishop of blasphemy ; priests and people rush forth in a crowd from the holy place, and the flock abandon their pastor ; Constantinople is filled by as much agitation and alarm, as if it had been assailed by some public calamity. The report of the insult offered to Mary soon spreads far and wide, and the whole Christian world is set in commotion. Africa, led on by the great Cyril of Alexandria, sends forth a cry of indignation ; Asia and Europe repeat the cry ; the holy Pope Celestine con- venes the bishops of Italy, and at their head condemns the growing heresy with its author ; a general council is convened at Ephesus ; the heads of the Churches crowd to it from every side ; and, in that council — in the famous basilica, which bore the name of Saint Mary, even then — two hundred bishops, headed by the legates of the holy see — the representatives of the whole Catholic Church — invoking the doctrine of all their predecessors from the days of the apostles — pronounce an anathema and sentence of deposition against the daring innovator who had so presumptuously sought to diminish the glory of the mother of God. The assembly did not separate until the night was far advanced ; but, O, zeal ! O, ardent faith of those primitive times, the whole people continued to watch at the gates of the basilica, waiting to hear that judgment pronounced, in which they seemed to feel that the interests of all religion were involved. Scarce had the victory of Mary been proclaimed when the city resounded with shouts of applause and hymns of thanks- giving ; the fathers of the council were conducted' to their homes in triumph ; perfumes were burned on the way before them ; innu- merable fires and lighted torches testified the universal joy, and gave this memorable night the lustre of a brilliant day. The ana- thema passed against Nestorius was immediately repeated by all the Churches of Christendom, as it has been ever since repeated in all ages. Magnificent temples were erected and dedicated under the invocation of the Mother of God ; the festivals which had been already celebrated in her honour became still more numerous ; and devotion towards her became the distinctive character of true be- lievers. Such, my brethren, are the examples of this sacred and venerable antiquity. I ask you now whether the worship which we render to Mary is a puerile and a new devotion ? To make you still more sensible of the excellence of this devo- tion, I could adduce what has been said upon the subject by the most ancient fathers — those pious and learned men whom Pagan- ism admired, before whom heresies turned pale, and who are vene- 158 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. rated by the whole Catholic world — such as Irenaeus, Basil, Ephrem, Epiphanius, Augustine, Jerome, Ambrose. But we shall, to a certain extent, give expression to the sentiments of every one of them, and enable you to hear the voice of the ancient priesthood and hierarchy, by repeating the words which have been uttered in the council of Ephesus, with the unanimous applause of all the fathers of that council, by the ilhistrious patriarch of Alexandria, Saint Cyril, who was the soul of that august assembly. Address- ing Mary in the presence and in the name of so many prelates, he exclaimed, *' We hail thee, O Virgin Mother, living and immortal temple of the Divinity, treasure and light of the world, inextinguish- able lamp, glory of virginity, sceptre of orthodox faith, firm support of all the Churches, who brought forth a God, and contained within thy chaste womb Him whom no place can possibly contain, through whom the Holy Trinity is adored and glorified, through whom the precious cross is venerated throughout the whole world, through whom angels and archangels rejoice, through whose victorious aid the tempting spirits which have been banished from heaven fly before the Christian, through whom fallen man is restored to the inherit- ance which he had forfeited, through whom idolatry has been de- stroyed and the universe converted, through whom the prophets have foretold, through whom he that cometh in the name of the Lord is styled blessed in the holy Gospel, through whom the apostles have preached salvation to the nations of the earth, through whom kings reign, through whom the dead are raised to life, through whom the only begotten Son of God has shone upon those who were seated in darkness and in the shadow of death." And he adds, as if transported beyond himself, "Who is able to bestow suitable praises upon her who is above all praise ? O virginal womb ! O incomprehensible miracle, the mere thought of which fills me with astonishment ! You," he says, addressing Nestorius, ** have employed cavillings against God himself; but, for our part, let us believe and reverence ; let us adore and fear^the undivided Trinity, and let us venerate the ever blessed Virgin Mary and her immaculate Son, to whom be all honour and glory for ever and ever." My brethren, were you able to conceive it possible to ele- vate the pre-eminence, the privileges, and the power of Mary to such a height? These are not only the words of one of the most learned and illustrious amongst the ancient fathers, but they are also words which have been consecrated by the solemn approbation of one of the first ecumenical councils, and inserted in its acts in which we still read them, and preserve the blessed treasure in the archives of the Catholic Church. After them we need not refer to John Damascene, Ildefonsus, Anselm, and Bernard, who have not been able to exceed what this discourse contains, although they have written entire volumes in praise of this glorious Virgin ; and let us blush not at the excess, but at the reserve, of our praises, which SERMON O^ DEVOTION TO MARY. 159 are altogether so far from equalling those few words of the great Cyril. But why need we dwell so much upon the records and the monuments of distant ages ? Is the Church, in our own days, less assisted by the Holy Spirit, less infallible in her doctrine and wor- ship, than she has been in the days of old ? Is she not rather one and the same Church at all times, perpetuating herself with every age, and equally incapable of error at all times ? Who can conceal her zeal for the glory of Mary from himself at the present day ? Reckon, if you can, the prayers and the supplications which she addresses to the blessed Virgin in every part of the Liturgy, the festivals instituted in her honour, the temples and the altars which have been consecrated to her name in every part of the universe, the graces and fervours which she lavishes upon those who are specially devoted to her honour. Observe, then, my brethren, what sacred and imposing autho- rities are combined to recommend devotion to the Mother of God to your veneration. The Scriptures of the Old and New Tes- tament, the prophets and the apostles of the primitive and latter times, councils and holy fathers, supreme pontiffs and the whole Catholic heirarchy are unanimous on this subject, and unite in the same harmony in advocacy of such a salutary and sacred devotion. Those who despise that devotion, who, upon frivolous pretexts, deter the faithful from practising it, who affect to believe with Nestorius that the society of true and sincere adorers of whom Jesus Christ is the head, must fall into a gross idolatry by honour- ing His mother, cannot therefore rank themselves as children of that Church which they calumniate, or invoke to their aid those sacred Scriptures which they contradict, or rely upon tradition or antiquity which condemns them, or escape behind whatever veil they use to disguise or conceal themselves from the well-merited reproach of irreligion and temerity. The illustrious bishop of Meaux, who is above the suspicion of a weak and superstitious in- tellect, concludes an instruction upon the same subject as that which I now treat, in the following remarkable words; and when you hear them, my brethren, bear in mind that they are not my words, but the words of that great luminary of the Church of France. " Accordingly," he says, "since devotion to the blessed Virgin is established upon such a solid basis, anathema to him who denies it, and who deprives Christians of such powerful aid, for he weakens piety in the human heart." How awful is this sentence, my brethren ! Let us, therefore, who are not disposed to bring down malediction upon our heads, redouble our veneration and zeal for a devotion which authorities that are most impressive and most sacred in the eye of faith oblige us to respect, as you have now seen — a devotion which motives that are most convincing and se- rious, even in the eyes of reason, make it an obligation to practise, as I shall now demonstrate. 160 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. II. — My dear friends, I do not mean to assert that the feeble reason of man, by its own power, and without the help of faith, could be able to elevate itself to the knowledge of those mysteries which are the foundation of the greatness and prerogatives of Mary ; but those principles being once ascertained, and the prin- ciples of faith being supposed, I maintain that the enlightened rea- son of the Christian can feel no difficulty in comprehending the force and the solidity of those motives which oblige us to honour this incomparable Virgin. The first of these motives is a motive of justice deduced from the singular dignity and the unparalleled elevation of Mary. God alone is great, and to Him alone essentially belong all honour and glory ;* but that great God has also been pleased to glorify His creatures who have been formed to His own image and likeness ; and it is His divine will that they should be revered in proportion as He elevates them and brings them to a certain extent near Himself, and imparts to them some share of His greatness. His sanctity, or His power. Hence the precept of rendering honour to whom honour is due ;t hence the sacred obhgation of respecting and honouring kings, in virtue of the supremacy of their dignity ;t and because they are the ministers of God upon earth, the repre- sentatives of His majesty and the depositories of His supreme authority amongst mankind. § Hence, also, the honour which we pay to the saints as the friends of God,|| and to the angels, as the ministers of His will, and His ambassadors in our regard. And if such be the privileges which confer upon mere creatures the titles of friends, and ambassadors, and representatives of God, how great must be the prerogatives of a creature who has been favoured with privileges beyond all others — who, in virtue of singular favour, such as no tongue can express, has been chosen as the mother of this self-same God — who has conceived a man-God in her womb, and produced Him from her most pure blood — who has borne Him in her arms, and nourished Him from her breast — who, by virtue of a mother's authority, has been able to command Him and found Him a submissive and respectful Son in every respect ? I must confess, my brethren, that these are miracles which far surpass our under- standing, and that these wonderful relations between an infant-God, who obeys the commands of a mortal mother, contain something calculated to confound all the conceptions of the human intellect ; but it is no less certain that such relations are a necessary conse- quence of the fundamental mystery of the Christian faith — the in- carnation of the word ; and that when He, who, in virtue of His divinity, is infinitely above all created nature, and above every law, has assumed our nature within the womb of a Virgin, He has * 1 Tim. i. 17. t Rom. xiii. 7. t 1 Peter, ii. 13. § Rom. xiii. 4. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 161 imposed upon Himself the natural obligation of honouring her from whom He has been pleased to derive existence, as a son should honour his mother. This was an obligation which He could not fail to accomplish in its fullest extent, as He had come to fulfil all justice, and to give our example of the most perfect fulfilment of every law. In proportion, therefore, as the elevation which re- sults from this obedience is amazing and incomprehensible to our reason, that very reason proclaims it to be just that we should honour her whom the man-God, who is our model and our master, has made it a duty for Himself to honour and obey. Moreover, as these sacred relations are indissoluble and eternal — for it will be true to say for all eternity that the Son of God is the Son of Mary — the glory with which He crowns her in that capacity is not tran- sient but eternal ; and it is His will that she should be glorified by the saints and angels in heaven for all eternity. How, then, could the Church militant and journeying upon this earth, that Church which finds all her consolation in repeating in her exile the hymns of the immortal Sion, refuse in this particular alone, when the mo- ther of her spouse is concerned, to unite her voice to that of the Church triumphant, her sister, and to bear a part in the concerts of the heavenly country ? Oh ! no, my brethren. The harmony is perfect ; heaven and earth join in the same glorious harmony, and emulate each other in singing forth the praises of her who is united by ties of so close a union to that Saviour whom they adore. Fili(B heatissimam prcEdicaverunt et regince laudaverunt earn* Who are they who endeavour to disturb such a delightful har- mony by telling us that God feels offended by the homage that is shown to a pure creature — that He beholds it with an eye of indignation and jealousy? Oh, error ! oh, inconceivable blindness ! What, O Lord ! Thou who dost command us in the Scriptures to honour the memory of the just, and to show forth their praise in the assembly of the faithful ;t Thou who dost promise to bless those that bless Thy servants, and to curse those that curse them -,% Thou who dost invest Thy saints with such glory and majesty as makes them venerable to kings and people ;§ couldst Thou be offended by the marks of respect which we exhibit towards Thy mother ? Shall we not be allowed to unite ourselves with the woman in the Gospel in blessing the womb that bore Thee, and the breasts that gave Thee suck ;|| or to join with the angel in his humble salutation of that virgin full of graced who is now in the full enjoyment of heavenly glory ; or to declare with Elizabeth that she is blessed and happy amongst the daughters of Adam, or to combine with our profound adoration of Thee the testimony of our religious venera- tion for her who has given birth to Thee, and without whom we * " The daughters declared her most blessed ; the queens praised her." — Cant. vi. 8. t Eccles. xliv. 15. % Gen. xii. 3. § Eccles. xlv. 3. II Luke, xi. 27. t Luke, i. 28. M 162 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. could not know Thee ? Oh, Lord ! to whom is all the veneration which we manifest towards her ultimately referred but to Thyself alone ? What do we revere in her but the living image of Thy divine perfections which Thou hast formed in her ? What do we praise in her but the excellence of Thy gifts and graces ? What lays us prostrate at her feet but the close relation and the ineffable ties which bind her inseparably to Thee ? So far from fearing that Thou shouldst be jealous of such homage, we feel, on the contrary, that we insult Thee by withholding them from her. If mortal kings deservedly require that reverence should be paid to their relatives and parents, why shouldst Thou, immortal King of ages ! require that they should be also paid to her who has given birth to Thee ? And if, as Thou Thyself teachest, to be wanting in regard for even the least of Thy elect is to touch the apple of Thy eye,* must not the smallest indication of indifference or contempt towards Thy mother wound Thy very heart in its tenderest part ? I have said enough, my dear friends, respecting the first of these motives which should induce us to honour Mary, and which I have termed a motive of justice. The second is a motive of love. Without stating all the claims which the most perfect and, there- fore, the most beloved amongst all creatures possesses upon our love, there are two in particular which should most deeply affect our hearts. She is our great benefactress ; she is j)ur true mother. To speak of her favours, in the first place, it is enough to say that they are immense. Must we not confess that they are, in a certain sense, infinite ? To whom are we indebted for all the blessings which we have received except to our divine Redeemer, who, see- ing the wretched posterity of Adam which had been deprived of all its privileges, sunk in crime, and in the disgrace of a guilty father, consigned to eternal woe without the least hope of recovery, has offered Himself for our sakes to the justice of an enraged God, and, by taking our punishment upon Himself, has restored us to life, and hope, and salvation ? Now is it not Mary that has been the next after God in giving us this Redeemer to whom we are in- debted for every thing. With what truth may it not then be said, how hath she not also with Him given us all things ?t By con- ceiving Him within her womb and bringing Him forth to the world, she has conceived grace and brought forth mercy and caused a tor- rent of divine blessings to flow throughout the earth. Yes, every thing comes to us from Mary since every thing comes to us from Jesus. That precious blood which has flowed upon the cross for the expiation of our sins, and which we still drink every day from the chalice of salvation — that blood of the new and everlasting covenant has first flowed from the heart and from the veins of Mary. That adorable flesh which has been torn and sacrificed for * Zacliar. ii. 8. f Rom. viii. 32. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 163 US upon Calvary, and which has become the living bread of our souls and the source of the future resurrection of our bodies, is a portion of the flesh and of the womb of Mary. The ineffable union of the Divinity with our weak nature, by which God has humbled Himself to the level of man, and man has been elevated to the God-head, was formed in the chaste womb of Mary, which has thus become the sanctuary where the reconcihation between hea- ven and earth was wrought. We must then openly declare — and let our gratitude proclaim such an astonishing miracle — that the favour for which we are indebted Mary is the stupendous favour of God Himself, the mystery of the redemption of man, of which she has not been the blind instrument, but in which she has been the free and voluntary co-operator. Our redemption, our salvation was eff*ected at the very moment when that glorious virgin gave a consent of which men and angels, and even God Himself waited in expectation — when she pronounced that humble but efficacious sentence — May it be done to me according to thy word.* From that time forward we obtained a Liberator ; hell was con- quered and heaven laid open to our hopes ; a man-God came into existence and all the designs of an infinite mercy were accomplished. I ask you, after all this, how can that which all other creatures put together have done for our salvation, be compared with all that Mary has eff'ected for it ? The prophets have foretold the coming of our Saviour ; the angels have celebrated His birth ; the holy precur- sor has pointed Him out to the world ; the apostles and evangelists have made Him known to all the nations ; the ministers of the Church, in every age, have preached His word, and been the dis- pensers of His sacraments and mysteries ; but Mary has produced this very Saviour from her own substance; she has nourished Him and supported Him, to be our victim, with such a degree of care as no language can express, and entering into the love of the Father for mankind, who hafJi not spared even his oion Son hut delivered Him up for us all.'\ She has consented to His death as it became necessary for us : and silent at the foot of the cross, her heart pierced with a sword of grief, she has offered Him in sacrifice for our sakes. Such, my dear friends, is the part which she has borne in the great work of our redemption. This is what all the holy fathers have asserted — what made Irengeus declare that Eve had caused the ruin of the human race, but that Mary had saved it — and gt. Augustine, that a woman had been the cause of death, but that a woman had restored us to life — and Tertullian, that we had been released from the abyss by the very sex which had been the cause of our falling into it. And what else is the doctrine of the Holy Spirit Himself, when He announces from the very beginning of the world that the woman would crush the head of the serpentj — * Luke, i. 38. t Rom. viii. 32. % Gen. iii. 15. M 2 164 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. by which He indicates that she would destroy all the powers of hell ? Such are the favours which are conferred upon us by this august virgin, and we shall make no return for them but the black- est ingratitude ! And it should not be a part of our religion to exhibit our gratitude and love for her to whom we owe, in the lan- guage of St. Cyril, both religion itself, and the knowledge of the true God, and all the privileges of the Divine adoption with Jesus Christ ! And this last expression reminds me that Mary is not only our great benefactress, but that she is also our true mother. Yes, my dear friends, the very adoption which has made us children of God has also made us the children of Mary. Allow me to explain this profound and affecting mystery in a few words — to point out to you, who are great in the eyes of the world, the foundations of a more solid greatness, of a more exalted nobility, than could possibly be derived from a long line of ancestors, and from the most illustrious birth. By the wonderful effect of the in- carnation of the Word in the womb of a virgin, he who was for all eternity the only begotten Son, ivho is in the bosom of the Father,* has become, in time, thejirst born amongst many brethren.^ Chris- tians ! we ourselves are the happy brethren of this incarnate deity ; and he himself has styled us by this glorious and consoling title. Vade adfratres meos.X For Jesus Christ being no less the Son of Mary, by his human nature, no less than he is the Son of the Most High by his divine nature, we would be his brothers only by half if we were not associated in this two-fold, this divine and hu- man filiation — if we had not, in our capacity as Christians, the same father and the same mother as himself. He has, accordingly, been pleased to leave no doubt upon that subject ; for, before he ascended into heaven, he said to us, in the person of his first dis- ciples, / ascend to my Father and your Father.^ And before his death, he also said to us, in the person of his beloved disciple. Be- hold thy mother, I Oh, affecting expression ! And shall we dis- own that mother whom our expiring Saviour has given us — that divine mother whom heaven rejoices in having as its queen — that tender mother, who is not content with having us her children, but who, in the very hour of her most bitter anguish upon Calvary, has brought us forth in an ineffable manner, by charity in the blood and death of her first-born who was sacrificed as a holocaust for our sakes ? Ah, my dear friends, if we do not wish to have Mary for our mother, take care that we may not be the brethren of Jesus Christ, nor consequently the heirs of his kingdom destined for eter- nal life ; for Mary is the only true mother of all the elect.l But, on the other hand, how absurd and outrageous it is, while we ac- knowledge her as our mother, to refuse her the reverence and love * John, i. 18. t Rom. viii. 29. % " Go to my brethren."— John, xx. 17. § John, XX. 17. 11 .John, xix. 27. ^ Gen. iii. 20. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 165 which are due to her, to affect an odious indiiference in her regard, and to remain strangers to that worship which the filial piety of Christians decrees in her honour ! Oh, happy, a thousand times happy they who love this mother of mercy ! What consolation shall they enjoy in invoking and praising her ! What delightful beauty will they not discover in the contemplation of her virtues ! but above all, what precious advantage will they not derive from her intercession, which becomes the channel of all graces, and the inexhaustible source of every good in their regard ! So that if justice, gratitude, and love were not sufficiently powerful motives, our very interest would be sufficient to induce us to honour her. And this is the last motive which I shall propose for your consi- deration. Being frail, and at the same time immortal creatures, we have interests of a two-fold character — those of time, which end with the present life, and those of eternity, which last as long as God Himself. To begin with the latter, it is the constant doctrine of the saints that we cannot be saved without the assistance of Mary. St. Bernard says, that God having placed the whole treasure of our redemption, and the plenitude of all good, in the womb of this Blessed Virgin ; if we possess any hope, or grace, or salvation, it comes to us through her ! ! "Si quid spei in nobis est, si quid gratias, si quid salutis, ab ea noverimus redundare." St. Anselm does not hesitate to affirm, that whosoever is abandoned by Mary must inevitably perish. '' Necesse est ut pereat." Some of them represent her to be the only dispenser of the treasures of Jesus Christ ; others as the most necessary mediator, next to our Divine Mediator. But what can be added to the beautiful expression of St. Epiphanius, who styles her the common mercy seat of the world. — " Commune mundi propitiatorium." The great Bishop of Meaux, therefore, only repeats the language of all tradition, when he makes use of this striking observation — " That by virtue of an immutable decree of divine wisdom Mary shall contribute, during all eternity, to every operation of grace for the salvation of man- kind." And hence it is the doctrine, not of a few enthusiastic panegyrists, but of the gravest and most learned doctors, as well as of the greatest saints, that she perpetually co-operates in our salvation, and that grace can operate nothing in us without her aid. Let you, therefore, who do not wish to perish, and who aspire to eternal happiness, invoke her intercession. Ye just and fervent souls, invoke Mary, that she may sustain you in the narrow and difficult path of justice, and that ascending from virtue to virtue, you may, at length, arrive at the summit of that holy mountain where God shall crown His elect. Ye tepid and imperfect souls who drag on the yoke of the Lord so remissly, invoke Mary, that she may hasten to revive your langour, before God shall reject you altogether out of His mouth — before your heart having grown weary and 166 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. disgusted from a piety which is without pleasure or consolation, because it is destitute of all fidelity or love, should feel no com- punction at the pleasure of guilt, and, as the Scriptures express it, should return back to its vomit. And you sinners who, buried in the abyss of the most shameful disorders, feel how dreadful your condition is, but despair of being able to release yourselves from it — you who no longer believe it possible to break such oppressive chains, and to overcome such inveterate habits — have recourse to Mary. With her assistance nothing will be impossible ; the dark- ness which besets you will be dissipated ; vice will lose the deceit- ful charms which have so shamefully seduced you — virtue will make you feel attractions far more powerful and pleasing ; and you will find, in a purer morality, a peace and happiness which your passions could not give. And even you, yourself, infidel, whose loss may seem inevitable, as you are in open war with heaven — if you have any compassion for yourself — if you sometimes cannot refrain from shuddering at the thought of the tremendous alternative in which you are placed, and of that dreadful problem which death shall solve at last ; and if you have not abandoned all desire of taking proper steps against an eternal misery — let you also look to Mary, and in the midst of your bitter perplexity do not hesitate to say to her, '' O Virgin, of whom so many wonderful things have been related, if it be true that you have such great influence with God, and that He does not reject any one of your demands ; if it be true that salvation can only be had in the faith of the Christians, and that infidelity is a deplorable error which leads to an eternity of despair, obtain for me the favour that a ray of that divine faith which has been so long extinguished in my heart, may shine upon it once more, and make me find the way out of which I can only suffer perdition and woe ; I will perceive, by that sign, that you have heard my prayers ; I will direct my steps by that light, and when, at length, returned from my wan- derings, I will never forget that it is to thee I am indebted for the most signal favours." Oh ! infidel, make the experiment ; and feeble as that prayer must be, I venture to assure you that if it be accompanied by sincerity it will not be unavailing ; and that, perhaps, you may belong to the number of these fortunate infidels, who, moved by a victorious grace and extricated as if by a miracle from the chaos of all error, pass from the shadow of death to the regions of light and life. It is thus this Blessed Virgin assists us in all the necessities of our souls ; but does not this queen of heaven also vouchsafe to feel an interest in our earthly and perishable concerns ? Ah ! she is our mother, and nothing Avhich concerns her children can be unin- teresting to her. Her solicitude, like that of our heavenly Father, extends to all our necessities, that she may relieve them, to all our dangers, that she may avert them, to all our afflictions, that she SERMON ON DEVOTION TO MARY. 167 may console them, to all our lawful projects and concerns, that she may promote then- success, as far as our real service may de- mand or permit. Need I enter into a lengthened detail of facts, in order to demonstrate what I advance. Read the histories of by-gone times and the annals of the Church, my brethren — read them, and you will see scourges averted, storms calmed, the sick healed, the dead raised to life, hostile armies overcome, and cities and kingdoms saved by the protection of Mary. Pass through this great metropolis and through the provinces of this kingdom ; behold the immense number of temples and sanctuaries dedicated under her name in the cities and country-towns, on the sea shore and the cliffs which surround it, in the depths of valleys and on the tops of mountains ; inquire why they have been erected ; and you will learn that every one of them is a monument of some remark- able favour obtained through the intercession of Mary, or some remarkable prodigy effected through her influence. Tell me the names of those numerous festivals which have been instituted in her honour, and which fill up the whole course of the year — those festivals in which she is invoked under so many various denomina- tions as the dispenser of victory, as the arbitress of peace, as the queen of mercy, as the certain refuge in all our necessities — and I will show you that they are so many solemn attestations of the gratitude of the whole Catholic world on behalf of Christianity, which has been so often miraculously delivered, or of the assaults of the barbarians, or of the oppression of the Mussulman, or of schisms, and factions, and intestine wars which desolated the Church, or other extreme calamities which threatened to destroy it. Have we not lately enjoyed the consolation of seeing a new festival, under the title of our Lady-helper, established by the holy Apos- tolic See, to give thanks to Mary for that memorable and miracu- lous restoration which has extricated Europe from the abyss into which it had been flung by the most awful revolution which had ever befallen it. O, France ! how happy must thou be in having been solemnly placed, three centuries ago, by one of thy pious monarchs — the child of St. Louis — under the special protection of that glorious patroness ! O, Mary ! protect this eldest daughter of the Church, which has preserved the sacred deposit of the true faith unadulte- rated, during the last fourteen hundred years — which has long been the land of saints, as she has always been the land of heroes — which, even in our own days, has been deluged by the blood of so many martyrs — and which, alas! has not yet repaired all its ruins, or healed all its wounds. May we speedily behold discord banished and morality respected throughout the land, infidelity and licen- tiousness driven back to hell, and the hearts of all united in the love of that God who so abundantly rewards the fidelity of his people I Amen, 168 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. SEKMON ON THE GEEATNESS OF MARY. FOR THE FEAST OF THE ASSUMPTION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. " Fecit miJii magna qui potens esf." " He that is mighty hath done great things to me — Luke, i. 49. Man was great and glorious in his primitive state, because he had been united to God, and endued with immortality. These two privileges, which had been attached to innocence, were lost along with innocence itself, and all the true greatness of man vanished from that moment. God, enraged at his revolt and pride, re- garded nothing but his meanness and his nothingness; He remem- bered that He had formed man out of the slime of the earth, and to oblige that man to be mindful of his nature and origin, He com- pelled him to return by death to that dust out of which He had produced him. This was enough to convince sinful man that he could be great by humiUty and repentance alone, upon this land which had become his prison and his grave ; and that if he v/ere allowed to seek after glory it would only be in a better world, after the divine justice had been satisfied, and mercy had raised him up from his deplorable fall, he would be once more invested with that im- mortality of which his disobedience had deprived him. Hence, sin having destroyed that first covenant, the conditions of which had been so glorious — " Be obedient to thy Creator, and be happy ; and enjoy thy dignity from the present moment" — a second and a very different covenant was substituted in its place — " Be humble, dur- ing the days of expiation and sorrow of which thy mortal life is composed, and leave thy hopes of elevation and greatness to be enjoyed after death, when time shall be no more. It would seem that the divine mediator of the new alliance — who, so far from being a sinner himself, was the saint of saints, and the expiation of sin — ought to be exempt from such a rigorous law. But no. By the very fact of his becoming flesh he was compelled to undergo the sentence which had been passed against all flesh ; he shall merit glory by ignominy ; and, because he ought to be SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 169 raised infinitely above all other men in the kingdom of his Father, he, of all other men, will be most deeply deluged with humiliations in this land of exile and probation. Hoc oportuit pati Christum et ita intrare per gloriam suam.* Hence it followed, by a necessary consequence, that she who, among all creatures, was united to this adorable Saviour by the closest ties — who approached the nearest to his incomparable sanctity — who was destined to occupy the highest place next to Him in his eternal dwelling — should bear a greater part in his ignominy, than any other child of Adam ; and that her humiliations, like those of her Son, should be proportioned to her subsequent glory. She perfectly comprehended this herself; and although such a condition seemed revolting to nature, she submitted to it without the least reluctance ; she entered, without hesitation, into the pro- found and rigorous designs of Providence in her regard ; and, accordingly, whilst angels and men spoke of her sublime dignity, and of thp wonderful miracles which heaven had wrought in her behalf, she could only speak of her lowliness, and seem desirous of burying herself in very depths of annihilation. When a prince of the heavenly host saluted her as the spouse of the Holy Spirit, and the Mother of the immortal King of ages — when he styled her full of grace, and blessed amongst all women, at first she was only able to listen, in silence, to words that were too flattering not to agitate and confound her ; Turhata est in sermone ejus ;t and she could only find words to declare that she was the handmaid of Him who condescended to become her Son — thus refusing the title of Queen, to substitute that of slave in its room. Ecce ancilla Domini.X When shortly after her entrance into the house of Zachary, the Holy Spirit, who accompanied her in all her ways, communicated himself to Elizabeth, and suddenly filled her with the light of prophecy, and by another miracle, still more amazing, caused the infant whom she bore in her womb to leap with holy joy — when EHzabeth, filled with admiration and reverence, asked how the Mother of God should deign to visit a mortal, Mary, ever humble, in the midst of the prodigies which were multiplied around her, and the praises which were lavished upon herself, exclaims that if the Lord had done great things in her regard — which she could not refrain from con- fessing — it was her very lowliness, her abjection, and misery which attracted His attention; Respexit humilitatem ancillcB sum ;§ for He is pleased to raise up the being who crawls in the dust, and to enrich the indigence of the poor man with His gifts. Exultavit humiles esurientes implevit bonis.^ See how this excellent virgin has pene- trated into the lowest depths of the mystery, and the most secret counsels of God — how she has comprehended that humiliation is * " Ought not Christ to have suffered these things and so to enter into his gloiy?" — Luke, xxiv. 26. t Luke, i. 29. % Ibid. 38. § Ibid. 48. || Ibid. 52, 53. 170 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. the only necessary foundation of greatness, and that to ascend upon a future day to the throne of the Word made flesh, she should first have descended by humility below the level of all crea- tures. This mystery of ignominy and glory will form the subject of this discourse, as it is the object of the solemnity which we celebrate. Upon this day of Mary's triumph I shall, therefore, explain the full signification of the words of my text ; Fecit mihi magna qui potens est ; and that you may clearly see in what the greatness of that august virgin consists, I shall show you, first, that she has been great during her life-time by an excess of unparalleled humi- liations which have concealed all her glory, as it were, beneath an impenetrable veil ; and, secondly, that she has been great after her death by a superabundance of almost infinite glory which has imparted an undecaying lustre to her very humiliations. O holy and glorious Mother of the Divine Word made flesh — thou whom we invoke at the beginning of all our discourses as the patroness of the preachers of the Gospel — allow me, upon this day, when I undertake to proclaim thy praises, to implore thy aid with special confidence ; and I venture to hope that upon so exalted a subject thou wilt not abandon, to his own ignorance and inabi- lity, a minister of thy Son, whose greatest ambition is to honour thee. Ave Maria. I. — What can more effectually enlighten man, and confound his pride, than to see all that we style honour, elevation, glory, splen- dour, dignity, and reputation here below despised by God, and rejected by Him with absolute disdain — to see her whom He chose from amongst all creatures, to glorify her beyond measure, and to make her a special object of His love and favour — her whom He places above all the powers of heaven, and whom He has been pleased, if I may use the expression, to unite with Himself by the closest ties of kindred, positively excluded from all those vain ad- vantages which we prize so highly, and doomed by an express dispensation of Providence to disparagement and oblivion in this world, where the most worthless beings are often surrounded by so much bustle, and pomp, and greatness ? Undoubtedly this was the most important lesson, next to the ignominies of the Word made flesh, which Divine Wisdom itself could give to blind and conceited mortals. All the good men humbled, all the just men trampled under the feet of the wicked, all the virtuous kings and princes laid prostrate in the dust, which our own age, and those which have gone before it, have beheld, are infinitely less calculated to aff*ect our hearts, and to instruct our minds, than the wonderful humiliations of the Queen of Virgins, and Mother of God. Let us then attentively contemplate such an amazing spectacle, and such an instructive example. Let us follow all the degrees of the humiliation of Mary. I can perceive three of them in particular — SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 171 first, the almost impenetrable obscurity which concealed all her titles to glory during the course of her mortal life ; secondly, the profound abjection into which she was plunged by the ignominies of her Son ; and, thirdly — what affected her heart more deeply — the apparent coldness which she experienced, even to the end, from this only and beloved Son. What was there great and illustrious in Mary which was not concealed from the view of mortals while she lived? She was descended from the race of David, the most ancient royal line in the world at that period. Did she enjoy the honours and dignities which were due to such an exalted birth ? Did any one think of respecting her as an august princess ? Even the evangelists them- selves seemed disposed to fling a veil over the splendour of her origin. When they point out her descent they conceal it under the genealogy of Joseph. When St. Luke relates the visit of the heavenly ambassador, you would suppose, from the manner in which he relates the event, that he speaks of the most obscure and forgotten amongst the daughters of Juda. The angel Gabriel was sent from God into a city of Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin — and the virgins name was Mary.^ Could any one infer from such language that he referred to the noble descendant of so many monarchs ? Moreover, it was humiliating to her to have dwelt far from the country of David, and her ancestors, in a city which was so greatly despised by the Jews, that it became a proverb current amongst them, that nothing good could come from it.f What an additional cloud was also flung over such an illustrious extraction by the poverty in which she lived, and the humble con- dition to which she had descended ? She united her destiny to that of a poor artisan, and she became known by no other title than that of the carpenter's wife. But if her birth was concealed in such a variety of ways, have her other natural advantages — her grace of person, her talents of mind, and the qualities of her great soul — shone forth with greater lustre in the eyes of the world ? Most certainly, we have every reason to presume that even every perfection of nature was to be found in her who was the most perfect work of the Creator — whose beauty the prophets had foretold in their canticles — who had been replenished with the spirit of wisdom and science from her most tender childhood — whose thoughts were heavenly, whose sentiments were all divine, whose words and actions were guided and dictated by God Himself? We may conjecture that such had been the case ; but all these most precious gifts were so deeply buried in the darkness and silence of retreat, that they were never seen by men, and that we can know nothing respecting their exis- tence. Whilst histories are filled with the minutest circumstances * Luke, i. 26, 27. t ^^^^ i- "^6. 172 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. of the lives of celebrated persons — whilst every expression which dropped from their lips has been carefully preserved — whilst every fact that could make us acquainted with their character, their dis- positions, their talents, and their very defects, had been treasured up with most scrupulous exactness — whilst the chisel and the pencil dispute the honour of transmitting their images to posterity — all our efforts, to learn the detail of the life and actions of Mary, are unavailing ; we can no where find the accurate expression of her more than angelic features, which must have been radiant with the brilliancy, and impressed with the loveliness of every perfect virtue ; our sacred writers have not essayed to describe that most admirable and unparalleled character of a creature who had become the Spouse and Mother of God; they have left us in ignorance of all that must have been affecting and sublime in her language and conversation ; they merely relate a few of her short expressions ; and, most generally, they say nothing respecting her, except that she was the attentive and silent spectator of the ope- rations of Divine Wisdom, and that the recollection of them was deeply impressed upon her heart. In conformity with the ancient oracles, all the glories of this incomparable daughter of the great King were inward, and concealed from human curiosity and admiration. Omnis gloria ejus film regis ah intus.^ But why should I refer to natural gifts, when graces of a different order and of a higher value were covered with a still more profound obscurity ? And here you must elevate your thoughts, my brethren. You are aware of the ignominy of our race, and the first wound which was inflicted upon mankind. The first man having imbibed the corruption of sin, that impure and destructive poison flowed with his blood through the veins of all his unhappy children. They were all born sinners, and received the seeds of corruption and death with the very first principle of life. Mary alone, out of all the posterity of Adam, was preserved from this dreadful contagion. Slie was invested with innocence and glory in her very birth ; and from the first moment of her existence she appeared all beautiful in the presence of the Lord, and was not disfigured in His eyes by the shghtest stain. Tola pulchra — et macula non est in te.'\ She is like the beauteous lily which adorns the valleys. Lilium convallium.% When she arose like a new star to adorn the universe, angels hastened to behold her with delight. The light of the moon was not more fair, and the rays of the sun were not more pure in their eyes. Pulchra ut luna electa ut sol,\ How great would the veneration of men have been for this illustrious infant if they were able to see her as she appeared in the eyes of the angels and of God Himself? But nothing dis- * " All the glory of the king's daughter is within." — Psalm xliv. 14. f " Thou art all fair, my love, and there is not a spot in thee.'' — Cant. iv. 7. X Ibid. ii. 1. § Cant. vi. 9. SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 173 tinguishes her from the other children of Juda as far as they could perceive ; they confound her in that common mass from which she had been separated by an invisible and mysterious grace ; and the only truly innocent creature which had ever existed upon this earth — she who surpasses the seraphim themselves in sanctity — encounters nothing but the world's contempt and indifference. But she, no less modest than holy, so far from repining at such in- justice, will rejoice during the whole course of her life at an error which enables her to escape unobserved in the crowd, in accordance with the desires of her humility. How great are the other treasures which this very humility will shroud beneath an impenetrable veil, in compliance with the imfathomable designs of Providence ! Oh ! incomprehensible pri- vilege of the divine maternity ! Oh ! adorable miracle of parentage, combined with virginal integrity ! Oh ! two-fold prodigy so unex- ampled, which elevates Mary to so high a degree above all creatures, what humiliations will you not cause her ! Mary is a virgin. That glorious quality is a thousand times dearer to her than all the goods of this earth, and all the grandeurs of heaven ; and yet, she loses it in appearance. Visited by Him whose power makes sterility and nothingness fruitful, whenever it pleases, she has conceived a divine fruit in her chaste womb. The miracle which had been wrought in her regard by the power of the Most High, is the secret of God Himself, confided to her alone, and to one of the celestial intelligences who had been sent to announce it to her; all the rest of the world is ignorant of it; even Joseph himself, the holy spouse of Mary, has not been made acquainted with this mystery ; he conceives distrust and unpleasant suspicions; but all this does, not make her break silence; she bears the burden of this ignominy without a murmur; and an express revelation from on High was necessary to undeceive this afflicted, just man, at the very moment when he sought for some contri- vance to put his spouse away from him without causing such an outcry about it as would bring her into disrepute. Virtuous and innocent souls alone can tell what a trial this must have been to the purest of virgins. But although the erroneous suspicions which were so injurious to her virtue were soon removed from the mind of Joseph, she submitted to another error which was most humiliating to her — that he should be the reputed father of this Child of Benediction — of this glorious offspring of her virginity, who has no other father besides God Himself. Hence, in the estimation of mankind, she will be de- prived of her most glorious title. That dignity which has made her distinguished amongst all women is precisely what makes her be confounded with ordinary mothers. Instead of manifesting, by any remarkable sign, a miracle which would attract the homage of the whole world towards her, God wills that every appearance and 174 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. action of her*s should banish even the suspicion of that extraor- dinary grace which she has received. When forty days had elapsed after she had brought forth the Saviour, she went, in com- pliance with the law, to present Him in the temple, and her spouse presents Him along with her as if the Divine Son of Mary were also the son of Joseph. She complies with the rite of purification, like the other women of Juda, as if the womb, which had been rendered fruitful by a most extraordinary prodigy, which had been sanctified, and, to a certain extent, incorporated with the Divinity by the generation of the Incarnate Word, could have participated in the blemish of ordinary child-birth. Oh, adorable Redeemer ! where is the glory of Thy Mother ? Where is Thy own glory ? Why should she who enjoyed the ineffable dignity of giving birth to Thee, be distinguished by no feature which could attract the veneration of mankind towards her ? The designs of God will unfold themselves, my brethren ; but whilst we expect their further manifestation, I appeal to you who are so desirous of the world's esteem and applause — you who evince such an impatience of outwardly exhibiting whatever may possibly attract its attention, and its praise towards yourselves — you w^ho conceive that no misfortune can be greater than to be overlooked and forgotten in the crowd — you who, perhaps, sacrifice your re- pose, your health, and your conscience to the desire of having the thoughts of others engrossed by yourself — you who adorn yourself day after day in such false colours, in order that, as merit is want- ing, they may, at least, commend deceitful appearances in your person — and I ask you is it possible to conceive anything greater or more heroic than a modesty which always conceals so many virtues — so many natural and supernatural qualities — so many unexampled prerogatives — such a dignity that is so much su- perior to that of the angels — which, notwithstanding so many titles to admiration, voluntarily accepts contempt, and, instead of glory the best merited, joyfully embraces humiliation itself? Mothers have been known to live contented in obscurity, pro- vided their children were placed in an exalted position ; and, as if their existence was altogether concentrated upon those to whom they had given birth, they regard the honours exhibited towards them as if such honours were rendered to themselves personally ; and they find this abundantly sufficient to gratify their ambition. Mary had an only Son, for whom alone she lived. If he had been glorified as he ought, what else could she desire ? How great a lustre should be reflected upon her from the veneration and homage of which he had been the object ? But, on the other hand, what additional gloom must not the ignominies of the Son have cast upon the humble and obscure life of the mother ? And this is the second degree of the humiliation of this august virgin. Doubtless, when the angel announced to her that the sacred SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 175 Infant, whom she was about to conceive, would be great ; that he would be styled the Son of the Most High ; that he should sit upon the throne of David, and reign for ever over the house of Jacob, she had abundant reason to expect that all the circum- stances of his birth and life would be brilliant and glorious. Could she have expected, after such magnificent promises, that when the period of his birth would arrive, she would see herself shut out from every house in Bethlehem, and that she could find no asylum except a poor and desolate stable, in which He would be exposed to all the inclemency of the season, and receive no warmth except from the breath of mean animals ? Could she have expected that, when his life would be threatened by Herod, instead of seeing the hosts of heaven marshalled around his cradle to defend him, she would be compelled to fly with him in haste to a foreign land, and even to an idolatrous nation, where He should endure in silence the insults offered to his Father, and the adoration which is due to God alone, transferred to the devils themselves? Could she have supposed that this new king, who had been announced with so much splen- dour, would live silent and alone during thirty years, in the work- shop of Joseph, joining with him in rude and toilsome labours ? But, above all, O most humble of mothers ! couldst thou ever have foreseen that when he would altogether go forth from his re- treat and publicly teach that pure and sublime doctrine which he had brought from the bosom of his Father — when he would per- form the miracles foretold by the prophets, healing the blind and lame, restoring hearing to the deaf, and raising the dead to life — twelve poor fishermen would be his only declared disciples — that, whilst the unlettered multitude would eagerly crowd around him, the great, the learned, the priests and pontiffs would conspire to calumniate and to contradict him — that they would make his ac- tions and discourse the subject of their most bitter derision — that they would contemptuously treat him as an impostor, a mover of sedition, a blasphemer, and a man possessed by the devil — what would then be the sentiments of thy maternal heart ? But, alas ! what must they afterwards have been, into what abyss of humihation wert thou plunged, when thou wert forced to see that Son, upon whom all thy hopes, and all thy glory rested, delivered up to the fury of his enemies ; loaded with chains like a malefac- tor ; declared by the supreme counsel of the nation to have de- served death, dragged from one tribunal to another — become the cruel sport of servants and soldiers, inhumanly scourged, bearing a vile purple robe, and a bloody crown of thorns, as the badges of his despised royalty, and devoted by the unanimous cry of a whole people to the most cruel and ignominious of all punishments? Shall I continue ? I cannot sufficiently estimate thy constancy, O, Mary I when thou didst follow him to Calvary, following the tracks of his blood — when thou didst stand beside him, the volun- 76 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. tary witness of the most horrible catastrophe, whilst he was stripped by his executioners, nailed to the fatal gibbet, and elevated naked in the air between two criminals. How hast thou been able, at that awful moment, to listen to the atrocious railleries of his per- secutors, the insulting defiance with which they assailed him, and their accents of joy and triumph in union with the sighs and groans of thy expiring Son ? Oh ! how often have the insults with which he was overwhelmed, fallen upon thee ! How often — for can we doubt it — have these barbarous wretches, who recog- nized thee, exclaimed, as they insultingly pointed at thee : *' Behold the mother of Him who called himself the Christ, and who cannot now rescue himself from our hands.'* Opprohria exprohrantium tibi ccciderunt super me.* Ah ! I now begin to comprehend what was before so unintelligible. Thou hast come to this heart-rending spectacle; thou hast disregarded thy own grief, and overcome all the powers of nature, because it was necessary that thou shouldst drain the chalice of affliction to the very dregs, and that thy con- fusion should almost equal that of the victim of the sins of this world, who expired in shame and agony before thy very eyes. Operuit confusio faciem meam.'f After this can there be another degree of humihation for Mary ? Yes, my brethren, despite the bhndness of the Jews, she was well aware that Christ was the word made flesh ; she knew no other true glory except what comes from Him alone ; and if He had been honoured in the eyes of men, that would have been an abundant compensation for all her ignominy. But this divine Sa- viour, conforming himself in every respect to the designs of eternal wisdom, and wishing to complete the mystery of that holy soul's humiliations, often treated her with apparent severity, which was to her the source of her most feeling trials. We do not read in the gospel that He addressed her even once in public by the tender and consoling title of Mother. The only words in which we perceive that He has addressed her, seem to be lessons of severity. When only twelve years old He reproaches her in the temple for the anxiety with which she sought Him during three days after she had lost Him ; as if this manifestation of a mother's love had been the usurpation of a privilege which he did not recognize. He ad- dresses her in these words: ^' How is it that you sought me? did you not know that I must he about my Father s business ?"t When she ventured to manifest a desire, many years after, at the marriage of Cana, to see Him work a miracle, which she expressed with so much reserve by merely saying. They have no wine, || what is the answer which she hears addressed to her in the presence of a crowded assembly, and on the very first occasion when He mani- * " The reproaclies of them that reproached thee are fallen upon me." — Ps. Ixviii. 10. t " Shame hath covered my face." — Ibid. 8. % Lnke, ii. 49. SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 177 fests His power to the world ? Woman, what is it to me and to thee ? my hour is not yet come.* This does not imply — and I trust no one shall labour under such a misapprehension — that as man He did not entertain for her the respect of the most affection- ate and submissive Son ; but when He thus spoke, if I might use the expression, from the summit of his divinity — as if to guard against the possibility that the distance which separates the crea- ture from the Creator may be forgotten — what a severe blow this must have been to such an affectionate heart ! what humiliation to a mother ! How great then must it be when He shall seem to disown her in the presence of a whole nation ? You cannot con- ceive any mortification more bitter than this. Being one day sur- rounded by the multitude to whom He spoke concerning the king- dom of God, His mother and His relations, whom the Scripture styles His mother and His brethren, were seeking Him and wished to speak to Him without delay, and some one apprized Him of it, saying, Behold thy mother and thy brethren stand without^ seeking thee,'\ what answer does He give ? You may recollect that when the disciples of John the Baptist had come to Him, under almost similar circumstances to ask Him a question on behalf of their mas- ter He was not only pleased to interrupt His heavenly discourse in order to satisfy the demands of the holy precursor, but He availed Himself of that opportunity to extol him publicly, and to proclaim in presence of the whole multitude which heard Him, that He was a prophet, and more than a prophet, and the greatest amongst those that are born of women. But, my brethren. He has no sooner been told that His mother and His brethren were seeking Him, than He answered him that had told Him so, saying. Who is my mother ? and who are my brethren ? Quce est mater mea? et qui sunt fratres mei? And stretching forth his hand towards his dis- ciples he said, Behold my mother and my brethren, Ecce mater mea et fratres mei.X Oh Virgin, who bore him in thy womb, is it thus thou didst expect to be honoured by thy Son ? But I am still more astonished at His severity in thy regard when I transport myself in spirit to the closing scene of His life. Let us hear the evangelist, my brethren. Wheri Jesus therefore had seen His mother and the disciple whom He loved standing, He saith to his mother, woman, behold thy Son. After that he saith to the disciple, behold thy mother. \ Oh, heart-rending expression I Oh, Lord! hadst thou, not even in thy dying hour, a more affectionate name than that of woman ? Another must be a son to her ! A stranger must address her by that very name which you refuse ! Are the ties then, which bound her to the fruit of her womb, for ever broken ? is she degraded from the divine maternity ? Alas ! did she not sustain enough of humiliation and anguish by Thy death and tor- * John, ii. 4. f Matt. xii. 47. % Ibid. 9. § Jolm, xix. 26, 27. N 178 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. ments, without Thy last farewell, which should console her, filling up the measure of her confusion and bitterness ? O thou, whose inconceivable anguish can receive no alleviation — go, after thou hast seen all thy glory changed into reproach — go, inhabit the house of this new son ; thou wilt dwell there long, no less obscure and no less forgotten by mankind after the glorious resurrection and triumph of thy Son than thou hast been before it. Neither the disciple who brought thee into his dwelHng, and who has been the support of thy old age, nor any one of the sacred writers, will relate any particular respecting the last years of thy holy life. We know that Magdalen and the other holy women, that the apostles and disciples were honoured with the apparitions and visits of thy Son, after His resurrection ; but we know not whether the same favour was granted to thee. Thy name will not be uttered more than once in the Scriptures, and even thy death will not be revealed in them. O mother of a hidden and annihilated God ! thou hast fulfilled thy destiny. Thou hast been a sharer in His annihilation and ig- nominy. Thou hast endured them as He did, to thy dying hour. The way of sorrow and reproach is closed to thee, and another of joy and glory is about to open. But, before thou couldst enter upon it thou shouldst give proofs of a magnanimity and a firmness superior to afflictions such as no other besides thyself could endure. Before thou couldst seem great in the midst of an elevation without limits, another description of greatness — in humiliation without measure — should also be admired in thee. Fecit mihi magna qui potens est. Let us now contemplate Mary in the midst of glory which raises her to an infinite degree above all her humiliations. II. — Nothing astonishes me so much as to see men whose minds appear by no means servile or vulgar, refusing to believe that the Redeemer of mankind, and His blessed mother, could have lived upon earth in abjection and reproach, as if such a lot could have been incompatible with the divinity of the former, and the august prerogative of the latter. It must be that these men w^ho are plunged in those matters which affect their senses, and dazzled by the vain pomp of this fleeting world, must be incapable of compre- hending that their life, which passeth away so rapidly, is nothing ; that the space of ages, and even the whole duration of time, is no- thing more than an imperceptible point in the vast abyss of eternity; that the works of God are begun and prepared in the present life to receive their form and perfection in the world to come ; that passing humiliations which are changed to eternal glory, do not make virtue contemptible, but impart to it a new lustre ; and that it comes forth more brilliant and beautiful from the midst of ob- scurity and ignominy, as the light came forth in creation, pure and dazzling, from darkness and chaos. SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 179 Let US then contemplate the three degrees of Mary's humiliation, succeeded by a three-fold degree of elevation and glory. First, the dark veils which concealed all her beauty and all the treasures of grace which she contained are torn away by death. What great things have I now to describe ! but where shall I find words to express them ? Come to my aid, O holy spirit I author of these miracles ; speak by my lips, or give me understanding to make me know those divine books in which Thy oracles are con- tained, that I may discover, under so many different figures, the marks by which Thou dost describe the triumph of Thy spouse. Must Mary die ? Does she who is born exempt from sin and the concupiscence which makes us liable to death, contain within her the principle of mortality ? Ah ! must she not wish to die after death has snatched away her beloved Son, the Son of the living God ? The Son and the mother are taken away from life by an extraordinary cause. Jesus expires in compliance with His so- vereign and omnipotent will ; Mary dies by an effect of her love. Jesus sacrifices Himself because He cannot allow the human race to perish ; Mary is consumed because she cannot live far from Him whom she so singularly loves. Since He has disappeared from the earth, she languishes ; the ardour of her desires is like afire which consumes her ; and it is she who has said by the mouth of the prophet, amore langueo."^ Nothing less than a prolonged miracle is required to keep her for any time confined within the prison of this body after the sacrifice of Calvary. She demands her beloved from every creature ; she calls upon them all to witness her sighs ; and she entreats them to assure Him that she can no longer endure the torment which is caused her by the profound and incurable wound of her heart. Adjuro vos si inveneritis dilectum meum et nun- tietisei.'\ He suffers Himself at length to be moved by so many tears ; He calls her in turn and says : '' Come forth from thy prison, O my spouse; take thy flight in freedom, O my chaste dove ! Surge ^ arnica mea, columba mea et veni.i Cease to lament. The melan- choly season of thy mortal life has passed away ; the winter is gone ; the storms and afflictions are for ever ended. Jam hiems translit, imher ahiit et recessit.^ An eternal spring succeeds. Come to the true Eden to enjoy it and to receive the embraces of thy God." Veni in hortum meum, soror mea, sponsa.\\ At these words the flames by which she is consumed redouble their force, and her holy soul, like an exquisite perfume, or incense of agree- able odour which melts in a burning censer, exhales itself altogether, and ascends like a sweet-smelling vapour to heaven. Sicut virgula fumi ex aromatihus myrrhce et thuris.^ * " I languish with love." — Cant. ii. 5. f " I adjure you if you find my beloved that you tell Him." — Ibid. v. 8. J Ibid. ii. 13. § " The wintei* is now past, the rain is over and gone." — Ibid. ii. || Ibid. v. 1. ^ " As a pillar of smoke, of aromatical spices, of myrrh, and frankincense." — Ibid. iii. 6. N 2 180 SEIIMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. Meanwhile, her sacred body remains inanimate upon earth. Yes, my brethren, inanimate, but not subject to corruption like our's. What ! the ancient ark of the Hebrews was incorruptible, and the venerable ark of the new and eternal covenant will not be so ! The wood which contained the tables of the law and the manna of the desert was defended against worms and decay, and the body which conceived and bore the man-God shall be delivered up as a prey to them ! This living temple in which the Divine Word dwelt during nine months w411 be dissolved and reduced to ashes ! This virginal flesh, which is the same as that of Jesus Christ himself, as one is a porfion of the other, shall be disfigured and wasted away by the dreadful effects of death ! No, no, I cannot believe it. The precious remains of Mary will go down to the grave, because those of her Son have gone there before her ; but they will be confided to the grave only to preserve them, and will not be consigned to it as a prey. O wondrous fact ! oh, what happiness I feel in pro- claiming it I they will be again restored to life ; they will gain a complete victory over death, through the power of Him who was the first to conquer it by a glorious resurrection. His mother — and is it not congruous that it should be so ? — will be the first to arise after Him. This grace for which the rest of the elect must wait until the last day, has been once anticipated by a most just exception on behalf of the most holy of all creatures. But in what state does she come forth, born anew from the grave? What new and blooming youth! What a splendour of grace and loveliness ! I behold her who is completely changed and transfigured to the resemblance of Him who vouchsafed to make Himself like unto her, by assuming human nature in her womb. What expressions, what metaphors and figures are capable of de- scribing what no man has beheld, what no mortal intellect can con- ceive ? The first Eve was beautiful when she came forth pure and unsullied from the hands of the Creator, arrayed in all the charms of innocence, clothed with such majesty as became the queen of nature, and bearing upon her august brow the impress of the Divine resemblance. But how much more beautiful still is the second Eve, when, after having triumphed over hell, and having trampled the old serpent, who had seduced the common mother of man, beneath her feet, she enters her new kingdom in her capacity as queen of heaven. What a spectacle was then afforded, not to the inhabitants of this earth, who were not worthy of it, but to the immortal multitudes of the heavenly host. Ever since the ascen- sion of their heavenly king they had never witnessed any spectacle so glorious as the assumption of Mary. I speak in accordance with the Scriptures, as interpreted by the ancient fathers. Behold, then, heavenly legions falling prostrate before her, and contem- plating with astonishment and love a beauty which surpasses all comprehension ; a splendour which almost dazzles them, and, asking SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 181 each other " Who is this incomparable creature who ascends to us from those distant regions with such majestic flight, supported by her beloved, flowing with heavenly perfumes and delights ? ^ Quce est ista quce ascendit de deserto^ deliciis affluens, innixa super dilectum suum ?* But, O holy angels of God ! what do you behold that can astonish you, accustomed as you are to the spectacles of heaven ? Does the object of your admiration surpass in splendour that brilliant light which illuminates the firmament in the absence of the sun ? Ah ! you answer me that the moon is the footstool under her feet. Luna sub pedihus ejus.'\ Is she more dazzling than those great luminous bodies, those magnificent stars with which the hand of the Almighty has adorned the vault of heaven ? Twelve of the most beautiful stars ranged around her form a crown which is scarce worthy of her. Lt in capite ejus corona stellarivm duodecim.X Does she also excel the sun itself? does she diffuse more warmth and light ? The sun which outshines every thing else is nothing more than the robe which clothes her. Mulier amicta sole.§ Oh ! my brethren, if such be the ornaments of her dress, what must w^e think of her person — of that almost divine countenance, of those eyes w ith which nothing in this world can be compared, of that brow, in comparison with which the brightest heaven seems dark ? What shall we say of that soul, of that pure image, and next to the soul of Jesus Christ, the most faithful image of God himself, in which the sanctity of the Father, the wis- dom of the Word, and the charity of the spirit of love are reflected > as in a mirror ; so that her perfection and beauty are, in some measure, those of the adorable Trinity itself? This is the splen- dour in which all the humihations of her life are lost and forgotten as the light clouds dissipate and vanish beneath the rays of the noon-day sun. This is the first degree of Mary's glory — so much obscurity suc- ceeded by the'l^splendour of her triumph, and the indifference of men vindicated by the admiration of angels. The ignominy of her Son formed the second degree of her ab- jection ; and the exaltation of this same Son will constitute the second degree of her glory. But, my dear brethren, how great is that abyss in which I am about to bury myself ? From one ocean of wonders I plunge into another still more deep and boundless. Ahyssus ahyssum invocat.\\ I have now to speak of the power and majesty of the Son of Man in his immortal kingdom. What ma- jesty ! what ineffable greatness 1 Saint Paul says that he humbled himself^ becoming obedient to deatli, even to the death of the cross ; for which cause God also hath exalted him and hath given him a name^ which is above all names, that in the name of Jesus every knee should boiv, of those that are in heaven^ on earth, and under ' Cant. viii. 5. f ^poc. xli. 1. % Ibid. § Ibid. H Ps. xli. 8. 182 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. the earth.'^ Mary, then, upon entering the heavenly Sion sees all there prostrate in presence of Him whom she has borne in her womb, the four-and-twenty elders who represent the whole church of the predestined, casting their crowns at her feet, and the angels of every order manifesting in her presence a thousand signs of their profound adoration. She hears the eternal vaults of heaven re- echoing His praises without interruption, and so many voices re- peating them by day and night that the sound of their concerts resembles the sound of many rivers rushing in immense cataracts, or as a boundless ocean heaving all its waves. Audivi vocem de coelo, tanquam vocem aqiiarum multarum.^ Seated in the highest heavens upon a throne from whence hghtnings and thunders continually issue. He dwells with His Father, in the midst of light inaccessible. From thence He gives laws to the universe ; He regulates, by His supreme will, all that short-sighted mortals attribute to chance, to fatality, to the machinations of statesmen, to the ambition of con- querors, to the caprice of the rulers of this world ; He sports with the projects and the hopes of His enemies ; He converts obstacles into the very means of fulfilling His designs ; He makes falsehood become subservient to the triumphs of truth, and passion and guilt to those of virtue, and the excesses of impiety to the support of religion ; and unfolds the unchangeable order of His eternal and infallible designs in the midst of the gfeat revolutions and continual vicissitudes of human affairs, Portansque omnia verho virtutis sucb, sedet ad dexteram majestatis in excelsis.X Beside Him is His mo- ther, no longer surrounded with the humiliations and sorrows of her Son, like a dark cloud as she stood at the foot of the cross, but unseen amid the splendour of His glory — no more a desolate mother, but a blessed queen, a sharer in the power of her Son, and in the homage which is paid Him. Astitit regina a dextris tuis.^ Oh, my God, vouchsafe to elevate our thoughts above the slime of this earth, in which they lie grovelling, and teach us frequently to contemplate the momentous concerns of eternity, that we may never have the misfortune of sacrificing the true goods, the pure delights and the solid glory for which we have been created to the paltry interests of a moment, to the profane pleasures which defile us, or the false honour which deludes and degrades us. What crowns the greatness of Mary, and constitutes the last de- gree of that greatness, is, that she is not only glorified with Jesus Christ, but, above all, that she is glorified by Himself. This is a recompense for all His apparent coldness, which caused her such bitter anguish during the course of her mortal life. He now dig- * PhiUip. ii. 8-10. t " I heard a voice from heaven, as the noise of many waters." — Apoc. xiv. 2. % " Upholding all things by the word of His power, sitteth on the right hand of the Ma- jesty on high." — Hehv. i. 3. § " The queen stood on thy right hand." — Ps. xliv. 10. SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 183 nifies her with the name of mother, and confers upon her all the privileges and honours which are attached to that title. He ele- vates her in that capacity to an infinite height, not only above all the saints but above all the hierarchies of heavenly spirits. He wishes that all should obey her and acknowledge her as their queen. He has decreed that she should be the mediatrix of men with Himself as he Himself is the mediator of men with His eter- nal Father — that she should be the patroness of His Church, the sovereign mistress of kingdoms and empires — and He has also promised her that He will not reject a single one of her demands. Hence arises that devotion which is so ancient, so solemn, so uni- versal, which the Catholic Church exhibits towards her under the august title of the mother of God — a worship which is far inferior to that which is due to the Supreme Being alone, but which is also far superior to every other. Oh ! to what a degree have all those who put their confidence in her, and invoked her in all their neces- sities, experienced the happy effects of her powerful intercession ! How often has she consoled the destiny of the unfortunate, broken the chains of the captive, saved from shipwreck those who were about to perish in the waves, brought back from the paths of error and the region of the shadow of death those whom heresy or infi- delity had misled, restored the hearts of their youth to those whom the most violent and dangerous passions had hurried into crime, converted hardened sinners whose return seemed desperate, loaded with the rarest favours of heaven those pious and fervent souls who had vowed to her their reverence and filial love ! Read what Bernard, Francis of Assisium, Bonaventure and Theresa have re- lated of So many wonders wrought, so many victories gained over hell by the mere invocation of her name. What prince, what na- tion, what royal line have ever placed themselves under her protec- tion in vain ? A number of discourses would be scarce sufficient to relate, I will not say particular and obscure facts but glorious and public miracles, in the course of ages, which the whole world, in some measure, have witnessed. I shall not, therefore, attempt to relate them here in detail. I need but refer to that famous naval battle of Lepanto, in which the immense armies of the haughty Mussulman, who were so certain of marching to new vic- tories, elated with all their success, like an overflowing torrent which had swept away almost every bank that had confined it, and had only one last barrier to overturn, in order to overflow and desolate the whole extent of Europe, were suddenly stopped short, overthrown and put to flight by a feeble enemy which they had been accustomed to despise and to siibdue — when Christianity was saved from its greatest dangers, and the boundless hopes of the in- fidels were crushed for ever by so manifest an interposition of the mother of God, that the glory of that triumph was universally ascribed to her ; and the holy Pope, Pius V., instituted upon that 184 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. occasion the well-known festival of our Lady of Victory, which is still celebrated throughout the Catholic world. But, shall I observe a like silence respecting the miracles of our own days ? Shall I say nothing about what is so calculated to fill the hearts of our people with emotion, and to animate the faith of all that is Christian ? Despite the unfortunate infidelity of the age in which we live, who would not exclaim, my brethren, at the sight of events so unexpected, so contrary to all human foresight, which have rescued our entire generation, as it were, from the depths of the abyss — of that train of incredible catastrophes which, in a few months, have overturned the most formidable power — of the return of our ancient and lawful rulers who have been twice restored to us after such long and raging storms, and settled so soon in security upon that tottering throne, whose basis seemed shaken, and restored to their rights over the hearts of their sub- jects which seemed to have been estranged — who, I say, would not exclaim at such a spectacle that there is something evidently supernatural in this, and that the finger of God is conspicuous in such an amazing resurrection ? But whilst we admit the miracle, have we sought to investigate its source ? And is not this a fitting occasion to proclaim a truth which has, perhaps, hitherto escaped your notice ? This day, my brethren, is the anniversary of the day when one of our pious monarchs, almost two centuries ago, solemnly placed his person, his sceptre, his august race, and his people, under the immediate protection (these are the very words of the edict which he issued on that occasion) of the blessed and ever glorious Virgin whom he chose as the special patroness of his kingdom, expressing a hope that she would be his resource in difficult emergencies, and enjoining in memory of that dedication the per- petual observance of this religious ceremony, this magnificent pro- cession which you shall celebrate in a few moments, which it was his desire should be attended by all the officers of justice, and all that was invested with authority in the state. This observance, which was so worthy of the wisdom as well as the faith of Louis the Just, was faithfully executed by his successors, and renewed in the most imposing form, first by Anne of Austria, during the stormy minority of Louis the Great, and subsequently by Louis the Beloved, a few years before the crimes and disasters of our revolution. I am not surprised that the heir of the faith of his ancestors, as well as of their tender devotion to Mary, should feel that next to God he was indebted to his august patroness for his restoration ; and that when he returned in peaceful triumph to his kingdom, his first steps should be directed to this venerable temple which has been erected in her honour during so many ages, to lay his crown at her feet, and the hearts of all his subjects along with his own. I am not surprised that daily miracles should distinguish the whole course of a reign which had been begun under the SERMON ON THE GREATNESS OF MARY. 185 auspices of Mary ; that instead of divisions, disturbances, and obstacles, everything should be restored to life and bloom, and announce a prosperous state of things ; that the most threatening dangers should vanish when human wisdom, in despair, could find no means to avert them ; that all the contrivances of the wicked should be rendered unavailing — their number, their confidence, the most crafty machinations, the most extensive conspiracies, the secret sworn in their subterranean caverns, and their audacity in exciting a revolt in public ; that the very success which attended guilt should be turned against its authors ; that the tears which had been shed above the tomb of a prince who had been cowardly murdered should, as it were, bring forth a new hero who, from his very cradle, should become the terror of his enemies, and the hope of his country and of the world at large ; that the people, released from their errors, and crowding around the standard of the cross, should make the whole nation resound with the acclamations of their love for the Almighty, whilst no voice is heard from the monsters of impiety and anarchy, bound fast in chains, except the last groans of expiring fury ; finally, that our princes, released from all intestine fear, and reviving all the glory of their an- cestors, should lead their faithful and victorious armies to extin- guish the last blaze of rebellion in other lands, and to fill up that gulf which sacrilegious hands had opened to swallow Europe in its depths. Quce est ista quce progreditur terribilis ut castrorum acies ordinata ?* Thus it is, O Queen of heaven ! that the nations which rashly embark upon the stormy sea of revolutions — borne onward by a restless impetuosity strive to find an imaginary happiness in the midst of waves and tempests — are not always abandoned to their rashness without some refuge ; if thou vouchsafest to be their patroness they experience the eiFects of the mercy of the Lord, and behold the miracles of His power manifested on their behalf even in the depths of that abyss in which they are buried. Ipsi viderunt opera Domini et mirabilia ejus in prof undo. '\ After this great God has delivered them for a time to violent and dreadful agitations, and suffered them sometimes, when elated by vain success, to imagine themselves elevated to the clouds, and sometimes humbled by the reverse of fortune, they seem to have descended to the lowest depths of annihilation. Ascendunt usque ad coelos et descendunt usque ad abyssos.X When intoxicated by licentiousness and pride they can neither see their way, nor walk with a firm tread, nor even preserve the faintest ray of reason or wisdom. Turhati sunt et moti sunt sicut ehrius et omnis sapientia eorum devorata est,^ if * " Who is she that cometh forth terrible as an army set iu array." — Cant. vi. 9. t "These have seen the works of the Lord and his wonders in the deep." — Ps. cvi» 24. X ' They mount up to the heavens and they go down to the depths." — Ibid. 2G. § " They were troubled and reeled like a dnmken man." — Ibid. 37. 186 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. amongst such aggravated calamities they at length remember that God whom they have abandoned, and implore His mercy through thy intercession, Et clamaverunt ad Dominum cum tribularentur* He will hear thy prayers, and hold forth a helping hand to them at the very moment when they seem irrecoverably lost. Et de ne~ cessitatibus eorum eduxit eos.'\ A delicious and favourable breeze sud- denly succeeds to the impetuous blast of the tempest ; the calm and silence of the waves succeeds the roar of the angry waters. Et statuit procellam ejus in auram et siluerunt fiuctus ejus.\ Joy and gratitude will supplant all sadness and despair ; Et Icetati sunt quia siluerunt,^ and the vessel of the state, saved from the most dread- ful shipwreck, enters, amidst acclamation and hymns of thanksgiv- ing, into the harbour of security, where it shall be ever sheltered from all future injury. Et deduxit eos in portum voluntatis eorum.\ May we all, O holy virgin ! place our confidence in thy power- ful protection, and thus arrive at the haven of eternal happiness ! Amen. * " And they cried to the Lord in their affliction." — Ps. cvi. 28. f " And he brought them out of their distresses." — Ibid. X "And he turned the storm into a breeze, and the waves were still." — Ibid. 29. "And they rejoiced because they were still." — Ibid. 30. " And he brought them to the haven which they wished for." — Ibid. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 187 SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACKED HEART OF MARY. PREACHED IN THE CHURCH OF THE NUNS OF THE VISITATION IN PARIS, IN 1829. " Omnis gloria ejusfilicB regis ah intus." " All the glory of the king's daughter is within." — Psalm xliv. 14. Amongst pure creatures there is one who is endowed with such sublime privileges, and elevated by grace, so far above all others, that in the Holy Scriptures she is sometimes styled the daughter, and sometimes the sister, or spouse of the Most High. Filia regis, soror, sponsa, and sometimes the only matchless work of His Almighty hands. Una estperfecta mea,* This beloved daughter of the King of heaven, this august Queen of the universe is Mary. And yet, if I look for any outward and apparent mark of such in- comparable greatness, I cannot find any whatever. I merely see a poor and modest virgin who has united her lot to that of an humble artisan, who supports himself by the labour of his hands, and lives in profound obscurity, far from the eyes of men. Where then is that glory which is so loudly extolled in the holy Scriptures and Canticles of the Church. You have heard it this moment. It is altogether interior, and concealed from human eyes; it is all within her heart. Omnis gloria ejus JilicB regis ah intus. But what immense treasures may be found within that heart ! These treasures are all the perfections of the angels and saints, but in such a degree of excellence that nothing even in heaven itself can be compared with them. What do I say ? They are the perfections of God Himself, as faithfully copied as they can possibly be in any creature. It is, therefore, just that we should offer our tribute of veneration and love to this sacred heart ; and as we adore the heart of Jesus, because it is the heart of a God, we should re- verence the heart of Mary because, next to that of her Son, it is the most worthy sanctuary in which the divinity has ever dwelt upon this earth, * Cant. vi. 8. 188 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. This, my dear sisters, is the foundation of a devotion which has been very general, and strongly sanctioned throughout the Church for the last two centuries ; and this is the object of the festival which you celebrate to day — a festival of a deeply aiFecting cha- racter, on which virgins consecrated to the service of the Lord, oifer their homage to the very heart of the most pure and fervent of all virgins, whom they invoke as their patroness, whom they love as their mother, whom they strive to imitate as their model. May this instruction which you are now about to hear, heighten your esteem, and add new vigour to your zeal for such a holy devo- tion ! May the same feelings be shared by all who have come to bear a part in this sacred ceremony ! Without undertaking to offer any arguments in vindication of that homage which we offer to the heart of Mary, and which is sufficiently vindicated by the approbation of the Church, I shall endeavour to make you feel the congruity, the utility, and the importance of that devotion, in such a manner that every truly Christian soul may become still more attached to it, and may find additional consola- tion in its observance. This discourse will be a simple and familar panegyric on the heart of this blessed virgin ; and 1 shall endeavour to show you, in three short reflections, how worthy it is of our esteem — first, from the perfections by which it is adorned; secondly, from the close relations which unite it to God ; and, thirdly, from the love for us by which it is inflamed. O mother of our Saviour ! how can we praise thy heart as it deserves, unless thou vouchsafest to lay open to us this sanctuary of all virtues, this living temple of the Holy Spirit, that we may behold the treasures it contains, and that by imparting the know- ledge of them to our hearers, we may fill them with admiration, gratitude, and love, for the most perfect and most bountiful of all hearts next to that of Jesus ? Ave Maria, §'c. I — In commencing this discourse, you will allow me to make a supposition. If we possessed some venerable relic of the mother of God ; if her heart, or some other portion of that virginal body, which conceived the Word made flesh had remained on earth, and if such a sacred treasure were in our possession, to what use would we convert it ? You instantly reply that we would place it upon the altar ; that not content with abundantly bestowing upon it all the honours which are afforded in the Catholic Church to the mor- tal remains of the saints, we would add to these others which are still greater and more extraordinary on account of the unparalleled dignity of the queen of angels. In short, that the heart of Mary, though lifeless and insensible, would be the most precious of all treasures in our estimation. These are the feelings with which our religion would inspire us if this heart had been found amidst the dust of the tomb. And, because it is living and glorious in heaven, where it is intimately united with God, where it burns with the SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SA.CRED HEART OF MARY. 189 purest flames of divine love, where it sympathises in our miseries, and ardently desires to make us sharers in that happiness which it enjoys, shall we, therefore, suppose that we have less reason to honour it ? Shall that which gives it the strongest claims to our veneration be the very cause which will induce us to withhold that veneration from it ? Ah ! let us abandon those vain subleties on which I cannot comprehend how prudent and enlightened men could dwell for a single moment. If there be any one in this as- sembly who is afraid to manifest too much respect and veneration for the heart of the purest of all created beings, I would beg of him to consider how highly God himself has esteemed the heart of man. The great God does not scorn to acknowledge that He is captivated by this wayward heart — that He loves it even to jealousy — that He glories in' overcoming it and establishing His reign within it. Hear Him sometimes commanding with a tone of authority — Thou shalt love me ivith thy whole heart i"^ sometimes humbling Himself to a tone of entreaty, and saying : My Son^ give Me thy heartf\ See how He promises to manifest Himself without a veil to the pure heart — to set no limits to His liberality towards the upright heart — to pour out the treasures of His mercy upon the feeling and compassionate heart. When He exhibits His indignation towards His people, it is because unfaithful Israel has turned away its heart from Him ; when He shows mercy it is only the humble and con- trite heart He forgives ; when He speaks to us it is to our hearts His divine communications are addressed. Loquor ad cor ejus.t In a word — for all the Scriptures may be adduced in proof of it — God keeps His eyes for ever fixed upon the heart of man ; He observes all its inclinations ; He sees nothing. He esteems nothing in man except the heart. Dominus autem intuetur cor.^ And do we not constantly say that a man is great, virtuous, respected, and worthy of our love from the qualities of his heart alone ? Is it not upon the hearts of heroes and of saints that all our commendations are bestowed ? And will any one ask after this why we venerate the heart of Mary ? Has such a one seriously reflected upon the excellence of this heart — upon the more than human, the more than angelic per- fections which adorn it? Oh ! my God, when Thou hast created our first parent in original rectitude and justice, Thou hast looked with complacency upon his pure and upright heart ; Thou hast loved it as one of the most beautiful works of Thy hands ; Thou hast impressed upon it the seal of Thy divine resemblance, and es- tablished between Thyself and it a close sympathy and an intimate agreement of feeling, affection, and will. But, alas ! sin speedily interrupted this happy union ; Thy image was disfigured ; the heart * Deut. vi. 5. t Prov. xxiii. 26. t Osee, ii. 14. § 1 Kings, xvi. 7. 190 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. of man vras reduced to a state of degradation, and received the odious stigma of Thy enemy; and that which had been an object of admiration to the angels, became a hideous object of aversion and horror. But, thanks to the infinite mercy of the Lord, so great a calamity was not beyond recovery. However, the contagion extended to all the posterity of guilty man. According to the expression of St. Paul, they are all under sin ;* and for the space of four thousand years the eye of God did not discern, amidst all the generations of men, a single heart which was not infected with this fatal contagion, this hideous leprosy. This was the source of the disgust and indignation which forced Him once to exclaim that He repented for having created man, because all the thoughts and inclinations of men's hearts were bent towards evil.f At length after so many ages had passed away, His divine looks repose upon an object worthy of engaging them. A child of benediction appears upon this earth which had lain so long beneath a curse ; a daughter of Adam is preserved from the universal contagion by a miracle of grace, and conceived in innocence, and born in holiness. The Lord beholds all the beauty and all the purity of the first model upon which He had formed man revived in her person. Oh ! with what joy does He behold this heart which no stain has ever defiled, which no seeds of passion have ever corrupted, which, even no trifling fault will ever make less deserving of His love — this heart whose inclinations are all holy and whose aff'ections are all heavenly. With what satisfaction does He view His own image reflected in it as in a faithful mirror, and finds in it every feature of that resem- blance which had been effaced from the rest of mankind ! Do you wish to learn, my sisters, in what words He expressed His tender regard for this beloved creature, and how He exalts this most per- fect of all the works of His hands ? After having produced the universe out of nothing. He saw all that He had made and con- tented Himself with saying that they were good ;t but how diff'erent is the language which He uses after He had given existence to Mary. " Thou art beautiful," He says, '' O my beloved, thou art all beautiful. Ecce tu pulchra es, arnica mea,§ tota pulchra es.\ My eyes which observe spots in the most shining stars, and imper- fections in those pure spirits which surround my throne, cannot discover the least defect in thee !" Et macula non est in te.^ Then addressing those intelligences, glorying in His work in their pre- sence. He says to them : " Behold this chaste dove ; she is un- equalled ; she is singularly perfect and surpassingly great in the world." Una est columba mea, perfecta mea.** Shall I continue to unfold the hidden meaning of the most mysterious of all canticles, and now show you the heavenly spirits assembhng at the voice of '• * Rom. iii. 9. f Gen. vi. 6. % Gen. i. 10. § Cant. i. 14. II Ibid. iv. 7. if Ibid. ** Ibid. vi. 8. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 191 to you the Deity ? Shall I describe the rapturous astonishment which they feel at the sight of so much beauty ? You fancy you can hear them exclaim " Who is this admirable creature who com- bines the perfections of all others in her single person ?" Quce est ista ?* They compare the brilliancy with which she shines, some- times to the mild and placid light of the moon; Pulchra ut luna;] sometimes to the more vivid brightness of the morning star ; Quasi aurora consurgens ;% and sometimes to the dazzling splendour of the sun. Electa ut sol§ But whence proceeds this delightful odour which delights and attracts them ? Curremus in odorcm un~ guentorum tuorum.\ Is it not from her heart, as from a precious vase filled with the most exquisite essences, which, by their com- bination, form the most delicious of all perfumes. Ex aromatibus myrrhcB, et thuris, et universi puheris pigmentarii.^ But we shall leave this figurative language, which we have bor- rowed from the Sacred Scriptures, and consider what these images represent — namely, the qualities, the virtues of the heart of Mary. And first, let us speak of her innocence. Her pure heart was a stranger to the irregular propensities of nature ; it had no reason to apprehend that it should ever know them ; and yet what precau- tions she took to preserve a treasure which she could not lose ! What avoidance of the world and all its occasions ! what retire- ment, what solitude from her earliest years ! What shall we say of that modesty that is alarmed at the sight of an angel ? What of that purity of soul which, without a moment's hesitation, chooses virginity in preference — not only to all the greatness and all the pleasures of the earth, for that would be only a trifling sacrifice — but to the ineffable honour of the divine maternity, which infinitely transcends all utterance or conception. To such heroic purity the most profound humility is united by a glorious alliance. Observe this daughter of David, who reckons so many kings amongst her ancestors, condemning herself to volun- tary obscurity, becoming the spouse of an artisan, and devoting herself to all the humiliations which are inseparable from a state of life which is so lowly in the eyes of men. Observe all her actions, listen to all her words, contemplate her very silence, and you will learn to how great a degree she desires abjection and humiliation. When a prince of the heavenly host salutes her with reverence, and announces to her that she will conceive in her womb the Son of the Most High, trembling and amazed, as if she feared to re- ceive the title of queen, she eagerly assumes that of a hand-maid ; and though called to be a spouse and mother she places herself in the position of a slave. Ecce ancilla Domitii.'^'^ When Ehzabeth breaks forth into admiration at the consideration of the miracles * Cant. vi. 8. 9. f Ibid. J Ibid. § Ibid, 11 Ibid, i, 3. i Ibid, iii, 6. ** Luke, i. 38, 192 SEKMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. which had been wrought by her presence — when she overwhelms her with praises and styles her " blessed amongst all women" — Mary regards her own nothingness and lowly condition even in the midst of so much that is calculated to dazzle her. Respexit humili- tatem ancillce suce,'^ She attributes greatness and sanctity to God alone. Fecit mihi magna qui potens est, et sanctum nomen ejus.\ When Joseph, ignorant of the cause of her pregnancy, conceives unpleasant suspicions, although she could remove them by one word, she prefers to bear the weight of this reproach rather than reveal to her holy spouse a secret which redounded to her glory. The law obliged the women of Judea to purify themselves from the stain which they contracted by becoming mothers; yet, although Mary always continued a virgin she complied with the ce- remony of purification as well as they, and concealed the privilege and the sanctity of her divine maternity beneath the veil of this humiliating ceremony. When has she been known to make a vain display or exhibition of the favours of heaven ? When has she allowed even the least glimpse of the lights and graces with which she was filled, to appear to public view ? When has one word, which contributed to gain the esteem of others, escaped her lips ? Or rather, has not her whole life been an unbroken silence? Whether she is outraged or honoured, she remains silent ; when the shepherds or the magi adore her divine Son, when the Phari- sees, the priests, and the soldiers overwhelm him beneath the most unmerited insults, she is silent ; when even her Son addresses her in terms of apparent harshness she is also silent, and in secret she blesses the designs of that Providence which so effectually co-ope- rates with the desires of her humility. Oh ! my dear sisters, how easy is the observance of silence to souls that are truly humble ! but how difficult it is to the proud ! and how unavailing would the effort be to banish from a community discourses which are idle and indiscreet, which are, perhaps, censorious and uncharitable, unless the poisonous root of pride is vigorously rooted from the heart ? But, to return to Mary. Detached from glory, even to the ex- tent of fearing and hating it, she despises riches so much that even from her earliest youth she divests herself of them and embraces all the rigour and privation of poverty. Oh ! how lowly is the roof and how confined is the abode of her who will be placed above all the choirs of angels, in the house of God, upon a future day ! how poor and coarse are the garments which cover her who will yet have the sun for a robe and the stars for a crown !t How great is the poverty of this virgin who brings forth her Son in a stable, and who can afford her infant God no bed but the straw, and no cradle but a crib ! Worthy indeed of being the mother of Him * Ibid. 48. t IWd. 49. J " A woman clothed with the sun, and on her head a crown of stars.'' — ^Apoc. xii. 1. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 193 who will not have whereon to lay His head, who will live on the bread of alms, who will die naked upon a cross, and leave the maxim " Blessed are the poor," as a treasure to His disciples. My sisters, if we desire to understand thoroughly and to appreciate fully this maxim, which is so incomprehensible to the world, and which is not always relished, even by religious persons, let us enter into the heart of Mary ; there we shall see evangelical poverty shining like a precious pearl in the midst of so many other excel- lent virtues; and we shall feel satisfied that she who possesses it is more enriched by that poverty than all the princes and monarchs of this world can be with all their opulence. But how seldom ai-^ the true poor of Jesus Christ to be met with ! To deserve the name, we must be dead to all things, we must renounce the inte- rests and enjoyments, the ease and conveniences of life, in thought and deed; we must think but little of life itself; we must despise superfluities ; we must even be without solicitude for what is neces- sary ; and like St. Paul, we must receive health or sickness, joy or tribulation, abundance or distress, with equal indifference. Such is the universal detachment, the perfect poverty of spirit to which our Saviour has given the first place amidst the beatitudes ; and such was the detachment of the heart of Mary. Such is the source of that patience, which is invincible in labours and sufferings and contradictions, that unchangeable kindness, even to the most merciless and unjust enemies, that unvarying calm and serenity in the midst of dangers, that generosity which is superior to every sacrifice, that spirit of mortification which makes a pure and sin- less body a constant sacrifice to penance, that complete annihila- tion of self-will, that blind and silent obedience which suffers no examination, nor delay, nor distinction, nor reserve. Whether she heard the voice of Joseph or of the angel — whether a duty was en- joined by the law of a prince, or by that of Moses — whether she was obliged to leave Nazareth, her native place, to go to Bethle- hem, or to fly from Bethlehem to Egypt, to break the midnight sleep, or to bear the burden and the heat of the day, to deliver her Son to the knife of circumcision, or to offer him in the temple, to bear him company in his toilsome course, through the cities and towns of Judea, or to ascend the hill of Calvary along with him, she never hesitated or murmured. She knew no duty but to com- ply with the will of Heaven at any cost, in whatever manner it may be manifested. What a model for imitation, my sisters ! And who can find a lawful pretext to dispense with the duty of obe- dience, when the mother of God found none ? But what have I attempted, O Lord ? Could I have really be- lieved it to be possible to commend in a single discourse all the perfections of the heart of Mary ? If I had a hundred tongues and a hundred voices, could I even enumerate them ? Is not this blessed heart an unfathomable abyss of wonders and perfections ? 194 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. How far could all my efforts go to give even the most faint idea of them ? And what is all that I have said in comparison with what remains untold ? Have I spoken of the faith of Mary — of that faith which not only removes mountains, but makes the eternal Word descend into her womb from the highest heavens ? — of her hope, which was so much more heroic than that of Abraham, as Mary's hope remained unshaken after the very death and burial of the true Isaac? — of her charity ?~0, charity of Mary ! vast fur- nace by which her heart was consumed, what mortal lips could ex- press thy intensity ! And how many other perfections besides these must we pass over in silence ? Alas! how imperfect is the picture which I unfold ! and how grievously does my inability afflict and confound me ! Oh ! could I only present to your view the heart of this incomparable virgin, as the angels and saints in heaven be- hold it eternally, how ardent would be the transports of your love ! For, as the beauty of virtue is so great that from the bottom of the pure heart in which it dwells, it imparts to the features an in- expressible charm, and a kind of heavenly splendour which fasci- nates the eyes,'what a delightful spectacle must it not be to behold so many virtues openly displayed, as it were, in their source in the heart of the most perfect of all creatures ? Contemplate, at least in spirit, my dear sisters, this object which is so worthy of your religious veneration ; but do not content yourselves with offering it unprofitable honours. It is proposed to your imitation no less than to your devotion ; or rather the imitation of her virtues is the most essential quality of that devotion. Methinks I hear a voice coming forth from that heart and saying to you : " Oh, my beloved children, whom I have brought away from the world and united under my protection in this asylum — you who bear my name, and who have learned from your holy founders to love me — I ought to be your model. I have been pleasing to God only because I have been humble and docile, patient and mortified, chaste and modest, laborious and poor, meek, silent, recollected, fervent in prayer, detached from all perishable things, careful only to glorify the Lord, charitable and indulgent to others, rigid to myself alone, faithful to my most trifling duties, ready to die a thousand deaths sooner than to allow even a passing shadow of sin to come near me. What I have been, you should also be as far as your infirmity allows. It is in my train virgins will arrive at the abode of happi- ness. Adducentur regi virgines post eam,^ I present none to my Son except those who follow in my steps and who endeavour to imitate my actions. Proximce ejus afferentur tihi,'\ They alone shall taste the joys of heaven, and sing the canticle of the Lamb. Afferentur in Icetitia et exultatione.X I lay open my heart to you * " After her, virgins shall be brought to the king." — Psalm, xliv. 16. f " Her neighbours shall be brought to thee." — Ibid. X " They shall be brought with gladness and rejoicing." — Ibid. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 1^5 that you may form your own to its likeness, and that I may recog- nize this resemblance upon a future day, and may lead you as my beloved children into that everlasting sanctuary where the King of glory dwelleth." Adducentur in templum regis/^ You have now seen that the heart of Mary is entitled to our homage by the perfections which adorn it. I shall show you that it is no less deserving of that homage by the intimate relation which unites it to God. II — My dear sisters, I must now rise above all human conception, and enter into the region of the most sublime mysteries, as my sub- ject leads me to treat of those incomprehensible relations which unite a mere creature to the Deity in the capacity of daughter, spouse, and mother. We shall not strive to find sublime expres- sions ; for such an attempt would only make our weakness and the disproportion between our languge and such a sublime subject more conspicuous ; but, my dear sisters, we shall endeavour to nourish your piety, and to assist you in understanding more clearly what a heart she, who could contract such an astonishing relation- ship and such a close alliance with the Deity himself, must have possessed. The Lord had decreed in His eternal counsels that the world should be saved by the incarnation of His divine Word, and that this ineffable mystery should be accomplished in the womb of a virgin by the operation of the Holy Ghost. From that moment forward, the glory of the adorable Trinity required that nothing should be wanting to the perfection of a creature who had been called to such a sublime destiny. The Father adopted her in a special manner who was fated to be the spouse of the Holy Spirit, and the mother of His only Son. He preserved her alone from original sin ; he sanctified not only her birth but her conception, even from her mother's womb. He endowed her with an unpre- cedented and unlimited profusion of graces. Before she saw the light, she could be styled, " Full of grace," with as much truth as Gabriel afterwards styled her. It may be said that " The Lord was with her," loading her with His favours, adorning her with His richest gifts, and employing all His care to embellish her. It may be said that even then she was " Blessed amongst women," and that she surpassed all the daughters of Adam in holiness. At the very first moment of her life, her Creator received her in His arms, and He wishes that she should recognize no other father be- sides Himself alone. Long before that age when other children are enlightened by the earliest dawn of reason, she hears a strong but tender voice within her heart, which says to her, " Hearken, O, my daughter ! — thou whom I have chosen from amongst all creatures to give thee this name — hearken, and learn my designs in * Ps. xliv. 11. o 2 196 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. thy regard." Audifilia et videJ^ Forget thy country and thy peo- ple, thy father's house and the authors of thy existence. Obliviscere populum tuum et domum patris tui,'\ For thy King, thy God, whom the whole world adores, shall greatly desire thy beauty ; He de- mands thy heart. He wishes to exercise undivided sway over it; and He will be jealous of the least division of it. Et concupiscet rex decorem tuum quoniam ipse est Dominus Deus tuus ; et adorahunt eum,X In compliance with this mysterious voice, Mary severs every tie of nature. She has scarce left the cradle when she con- fines herself within the temple, where — a voluntary captive, chained by love to the foot of the altar — her conversation is with heaven alone. Whilst she consecrates herself to virginity by irrevocable engagements, and spends days and nights in the holy place, engaged in prayer, the Lord erects within her another temple holier still, another sanctuary far more august, where the Deity shall corpo- rally dwell upon a future day. In this heart, the sacred fire is never extinguished, and an agreeable incense continually burns there. Within it is the true Holy of Holies, out of which the Eternal sends forth His oracles in secret, and the living ark, of which that of the Jews was only a figure. Oh ! what pleasure the Lord must feel in this tabernacle, which is invisible to men, and which He loves to prepare as a fit dwelling place for his Son. It is also within this virginal heart that her ineff'able union with the Holy Spirit is celebrated. O, Divine Spirit, descend ! the spouse is ready ; she is adorned with chastity, humility, and love, with all the variety and magnificence of those virtues which form the nuptial robe which is most precious and most worthy of thee. In vestitu deaurato, circumdata varietate.^ Perfect within her that prodigy which has been expected for ages past — that mystery which is beyond the comprehension of angels themselves — which should unite you to her by indissoluble ties, and give her a title and privileges to which no creature could ever aspire. What can we say upon this subject, my sisters ? How can we convey a notion of the favours which Mary received ? The spirit of God has visited her. Is not that saying enough ? Had he not visited others before her ? How many holy souls had tasted the sweetness of His divine caresses, and were inebriated with chaste delights in an afi*ectionate union with Him ! Mary, from her earliest youth, was made familiar with all these graces ; she always maintained the closest union with the spirit of the Lord ; her days were spent amid the delights and languors of love ; even sleep did not inter- rupt her union with her beloved; and, whilst her senses slumbered, her heart was watching for Him. Ego dormio et cor meum vigilat.\\ Did nothing gi^pat occur when she was addressed by the angel — * Ps. xliv. 11. t Ibid. X Ibid. 12. § Ps. xUv. 10. II Cant. v. 2. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEARC OF MARY. 197 when the divine Majesty invested her on every side, and the power of the Most High overshadowed her* — when the Holy Spirit, who had always resided within her, and had long before overwhelmed her with His favours, came upon her in a new and extraordinary formf — when He filled her, as it were, with His own plenitude — when, by an unexampled prodigy. He rendered her virginal womb fruitful, and made it bring forth that fruit of benediction which is sanctity itself, and who was called the Son of the Most High ?t Ah ! if this same Spirit, when He dscended upon the apostles, changed them into new men — if He raised them above the level of human nature — if He taught them all science, and suddenly trans- formed them, by the power which He gave them, almost into gods upon this earth — what effects must He have produced in Mary ? With what light and fervour, with what supernatural strength must He have filled her when He came, not like tongues of fire, but like a torrent of divine flames to burn away and to consume all that was earthly within her, to renew her being, which was already so perfect, to sanctify her womb, and incorporate it with the divinity by making her conceive a God ! Ah, if such wonderful favours have been granted to mere servants, what gifts must He not have lavished upon his spouse ! What purity, what undecaying beauty must the spouse have imparted by His divine embrace to that heart with which He was pleased to unite himself by a union so close and new ? I must stop short, for I feel that expression fails to convey my thoughts, and that my thoughts themselves are far below the miracles which I have to propose to your consideration. Let us pass on to the third relation which unites this glorious virgin to the Divinity. She is not only a daughter and a spouse, but she is also a mother ; this is a title which she shares with no other, and which is the consummation of her glory. For although she is the daughter of the Father by a special adoption, and the spouse of the Holy Spirit in an ineffable manner, which is peculiar to herself, the title of children of God may be given to all the faithful, and that of His spouses to all virgins, in a sense which is far less elevated and rigorous, butj which is, nevertheless, true ; and even the Scriptures make use of the same language. But who else besides Mary has ever been styled the Mother of God ? Who else has conceived the Son of the Eternal in her womb, and brought Him forth and nourished Him with her milk ? Oh ! this is a mi- racle which confounds our feeble reason and overturns the whole natural order of our ideas. Oh ! this is a dignity to which no other can be compared, and to which nothing that we know can ever approach. What! is it possible that He who gives their whole being to creatures, and who receives nothing from them, could receive life itself from Mary ? That He who, by a word, * Luke, i. 35. t I^d. t Hjitl 196 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. created all that exists at present, could have been produced accord- ing to His human existence and His flesh by that daughter of Juda? He who gives nourishment and increase to every living thing that breathes, has been nourished from her substance, and grown up from it ! He who sustains the world with His hand has been borne in her arms ! He who is the sovereign Lord of all creation has been the obedient, submissive, and respectful Son of this virgin.* No ; in vain would we seek after any greatness upon earth except that of God, which is capable of being compared to that of Mary ; we could not find it. When St. Paul wished to make the Hebrews comprehend how highly Jesus Christ was elevated above all the hierarchy of heaven, he exclaims : To which of the angels hath He said at any time. Thou art My Son ; this day have I begotten Thee ?t With a slight change, and an observance of suitable pro- portions, may I not also exclaim in turn, " To which of those sublime intelligences has the Son of God ever said. Thou art My mother : this day hast thou begotten Me ?" But this is what He shall repeat to Mary for all eternity ; and this will elevate her to an immense distance above all the principalities and powers of heaven. But to return to her heart, which is the special object of this discourse — what impressions, what influences of grace must you not believe it to have received, during the nine months which the Word Incarnate spent in her womb ? What brightness must have blazed from this sun which was so long confined within it, and which suff'ered no ray to escape without ! What emotions must not this heart have felt when the blessed mother held the Divine In- fant in her arms, and clasped Him to her bosom ! With what sanctity was not this heart filled during the thirty years of uninter- rupted intercourse, and the daily conversations between the Son and the mother ? What a heart must that have been whose sentiments corresponded with the sublimity of an incomprehensible union with the three Divine persons, and were, in every respect, worthy of the daughter, spouse, and mother of God. Most certainly, Mary is not God. If you consider her nature and person, she is separated an infinite distance from the supreme Being ; and woe be unto him who would confound the creature with the Creator. But if you contemplate her privileges and her relations, they are altogether divine, and you cannot think upon them without finding yourself, even against your will, altogether lost in the splendour of the divinity. Her maternity is divine ; her Son, who is the bone of her bone and the flesh of her flesh, is a God. I would be almost tempted to say, that every thing in her is divine, with the exception of herself. Therefore, as we style the Scriptures divine, because they are inspired by the Holy * Luke, ii. 51. t Hob. i. 5, — Ps. ii. 7. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 199 Ghost, and as such expressions as the divme prophets and the di- vine Paul are familiar to us, whenever we allude to those who have been the organs of that Holy Spirit, whilst no one mistakes the meaning which we attach to them, we have much more forcible reasons to make use of such expressions as the divine mother or the divine virgin, not to attribute a divine nature to Mary, for that would be blasphemy ; but to denote the excellence and the close- ness of her union with the adorable Trinity. How great then is the absurdities of those societies who are separated from the true Church — who, whilst they adore the Son, refuse to manifest the least respect for the mother — who make it a matter of religion to observe no difference between her and the other children of Adam — who imagine that they do what is acceptable to Him who has commanded us to honour our parents, by reviUng her from whom He has been pleased to receive His birth ! How much greater still is the blindness of the children of the Church who acknowledge the obligation of invoking and venerating the mother of our Saviour, who abridge their devotions to her as much as possible, who dis- pute her titles and prerogatives, and are zealous only in diminishing her glory, who do not admit that her conception was immaculate, or that her assumption is any more than her death, who look with dissatisfaction upon every devotion of which she is the object, and upon every festival which has been instituted in her honour, for fear, as they assert, that the rights of the Son may be inter- fered with by what is so liberally granted to the mother ; and that the divine King of heaven may conceive from thence a jealousy which they could not suspect a prince of this earth to be capable of feeling towards her who had given Him birth ! And what shall we say of those who commend the homage which is offered to Mary, who think it well that all should kneel before her images and the altars which are dedicated to her — that festivals should be cele- brated in honour of her name, her dolours, and the different mys- teries of her life, but who cannot endure the thought of honouring her heart with a special veneration, as if there was any portion of her more worthy of respect and veneration than this sacred heart — that heart which is the throne of virgin purity, of the most ardent divine love, and of the most tender love for men, as we shall soon see. O holy Church ! faithful depository of all truth ! thou alone art always wise, always conformable to reason, and dost manifest a perfect harmony between the dogmas which thou dost profess and the worship which thou hast established. Thou dost render to God alone, and to Jesus Christ His only Son, the supreme worship of adoration ; and to distinguish it from every other worship, thou art pleased to give it a particular name — that of latria. Thou dost render to angels and saints, as the friends of God, a homage of veneration and respect which is infinitely inferior to the first ; and 200 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. in order that it may also have a distinctive title, thou dost style it dulia. But in the immense interval which separates God from the angels and saints, and a pure creature who has been elevated by grace to the divine maternity — who, by her nature, is infinitely inferior to the Deity, but who, by her prerogative, as a mother, and her privileges as a spouse, is incomparably nearer to that Deity than any other creature can possibly be ; and to honour her as she deserves, thou hast assigned her a special devotion which excludes adoration which is due to God alone, which surpasses the veneration which is granted to all that is not God ; and thou hast styled this worship hyper dulia. Thus every due proportion and restriction is observed ; knd the same spirit of order pervades the earthly Jeru- salem as that which reigns above, where the Son of man is seen seated at the right hand of the Father, and at the right hand of the Son of man she who bore him in her womb — the mother of God and the queen of heaven ! Astitit regina a dextris tuis.^ We are not afraid of incurring the reproach of superstition by offering our homage to a creature whom the Lord Himself has glorified so much, and we desire to address her heart in particular, not only on account of the perfections by which it is adorned, and the intimate relations which unite it to God, but still more on account of the love with which it burns for us, as I shall now show you very briefly. III. — This last part of the subject is the most interesting of any, as it refers to the love which is felt for us by this holy and sublime creature, to whom nothing short of God is superior, and who, without being God herself, nevertheless closely approaches the Divinity. The love which she bears us is as much superior to every other aiFection as the dignity of this glorious virgin transcends all other greatness. It is not only a tender, ardent, generous, and heroic love ; but we may go to the length of asserting that it is an ex- cessive love which seems to exceed all limits. And why ? Because Mary, by a miracle of charity in our favour, and by an apparent subversion of the order of nature, has given up the very existence of her divine Son to our salvation, and God as He was, she offered Him up and sacrificed Him for our sakes. When Jesus Christ wished to show the most wonderful efiocts of the charity of the Father, He says that He so loved the world as to deliver up His only Son. Sic enim dilexit] mundum ut Jilium suum unigenitum daret.^ This is what the great Apostle styles the excess of God's love to men. Propter nimiam charitatem suam qua dilexit nos*X But the heart of Mary has been capable of alike excess. She has delivered up the same only Son, that adorable fruit of her womb, for the re- demption of the world. Sic dilexit mundum ut Jilium suum uni- genitum daret — with this difference, that so great a sacrifice cost * Ps. xliv. 10. t John, iii. 16. % Ephes. ii. 4. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OP MARY. 201 no pain to the eternal Father, who is essentially exempt from suf- fering, but it has caused such deep and bitter anguish to the most tender and feeling of all mothers, that no language can convey an adequate notion of the martyrdom which she endured — a martyr- dom which did not begin upon Calvary, but at the very moment when she received the message of the angel. As soon as he had announced to her that she would bring forth a Son, who should be called Jesus, or Saviour, she comprehended the full significancy of that name, ^d she plainly saw that she was called to bring forth to the world the victim of the human race. She fully consented to this, and by that voluntary acceptance she devoted herself to all the afflictions, and, if I may use the expression, to all the desolation which was inseparable from such a destiny. What joy could she feel from that moment ? or what alleviation of her anguish could she receive ? During the whole time that she bore the Divine Infant in her womb, that she nourished Him at her breast, that she saw Him grow up — the heart-rending thought that He was growing up for sacrifice, was ever before her mind. She could not banish the dreadful images of the Garden of Olives, the Hall of Judgment, and Calvary. All that gives consolation to ordinary mothers was changed into torments for her. When He held forth His innocent hands she must have fancied that she already saw them loaded with the chains which were to bind Him, or pierced with the nails which were to fasten Him to an infamous gibbet upon a future day. When He smiled upon His mother, or directed a glance of affection towards her, or solicited her caresses, she figured to her- self by a heart-rending anticipation, His eyes closed and dying, His countenance bathed in blood and tears. His whole body torn, and presenting one continued wound. This was a continuous martyrdom which every moment renewed, and which love alone enabled her to endure. But why should I mention her endurance ? See her actually co-operating in the suff"erings of that adorable Son, and becoming, for our sakes, the minister of the rigorous designs of His Father in His regard. Did she not deliver Him to the knife of circumcision, that His blood may begin to flow for us even then ? Did she not carry Him in her arms to the temple, to offer Him as our victim there, and thus solemnly devote Him to death, and to hear the assurance that she had nothing to expect but the most crushing afflictions, until the sword of grief should pierce her heart at last ? Et tuam ipsius animam pertransihit gladius,"^ If I may add to the Gospel narrative, that which I have probable grounds for conjecturing to have been the subject of the intimate and familar conversations of Jesus and Mary, during thirty years, * Luke, ii. 85. 202 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. in their retreat at Nazareth, must it not have been thdt very passion about which he constantly spoke to His disciples, and which always engrossed His thoughts ? What afflicting conversations must not these have been to a mother ! What deep wounds must not every such discourse have inflicted upon her heart ? And yet she never had the weakness of exclaiming with St. Peter, Lord he it far from thee ; this shall not he done unto theeJ^ On the contrary, she adds new ardour to the burning desires of her Son ; they both drank together, they both drained the bitter draught of that dreadful chalice, and they encouraged each other to drink it to the very dregs, in order thereby to procure our salvation. Need we refer to any other proofs of this besides the manner in which she acted when that fatal hour had come ? Alas ! my sisters, what a sad spectacle is now presented to our view ! and who can behold it without emotion ! The Son of man is condemned to death ; over- whelmed beneath the most degrading treatment, His blood and strength exhausted, laden with a heavy cross, under which He is often forced to sink, He is rather dragged than conducted to the place of execution. The pious women who are aware of His innocence, and who see Him reduced to such a frightful extremity, are unable to restrain their groans ; they fill the air with their piteous lamentations.! But, where is His Mother ? Has she fled far from the scene of where such an awful tragedy is prepared ? Has she gone to bury her deep and intolerable anguish in concealment ? Has she remained dying and desolate at home ? Ah ! she is beside the victim ; she ascends the mountain of sacri- fice in company with Him ; and the Gospel does not tell us that she even wept. She sees the executioners strip her Son, and stretch Him unmercifully upon the fatal wood; she sees them bury the nails in His hands and feet, with repeated blows ; she sees His tears flowing, and His blood streaming on every side ; she hears His sighs and groans mingled with the shouts of rage and the savage insults of His enemies. She does not stand at a dis- tance from this heart-rending spectacle, like the holy women and the other friends of the Saviour, for all His acquaintance and the women stood afar off ;% but she is at the very foot of the cross, in the midst of the hideous array of torture, amidst the soldiers and ex- ecutioners, and so close beside her expiring Son that no portion of His sufferings can escape her. But perhaps the very excess of her sorrow has deprived her of all consciousness ; perhaps she is no longer in a condition to discern any thing ; a dark veil has covered her eyes, or else she has fallen fainting and lifeless to the earth. Oh, amazing wonder ! My dear sisters, the mother of Jesus stands in the attitude of a priest while offering sacrifice before that altar * Matt. xvi. 22. t Luke, xxiii. 27. % Ibid, xxxiii. 49. SERMON ON DEVOTION TO THE SACRED HEART OF MARY. 203 upon which the mighty holocaust is consumed, Stahat juxta crucem Jesu mater ejus.^ Whilst Jesus offers Himself to His Father in expiation of sin, His mother offers Him also to His Father for the same end. She consents to His torments, to His igno- miny, to His death, that we may obtain forgiveness. She entreats an offended God to wreak His vengeance on that innocent Lamb, and to spare us. See to what an extent has the heart of Mary loved us. So much were we the exclusive objects of the thoughts of both the Son and the mother at this awful moment, that Jesus, addressing His dying words from the cross to Mary, speaks nei- ther of her nor Himself, but of us alone. He sees beside Him one of His disciples who represents all the rest ; He makes him our representative, and presents us all to Mary in his person, say- ing to her, Woman, behold thy Son.f " Second Eve, behold thy family ; thou alone shalt be henceforth the true mother of all the Uving^X of all my disciples ; thou hast given them birth to-day in the excess of the most inconceivable anguish; and in thee shall the prediction which had been made to the first woman be fulfilled to its fullest extent — in sorrow shalt thou bring forth children.^ They have cost thee too dearly that they should not be thine. I give them to thee now. Love them even as thou hast loved My- self. And you also, My disciples, learn to love your mother ; to you I transfer all My claims upon her ; have recourse to her love in all your necessities ; though she has not borne you in her womb she bears you at present in her heart. She has loved you more than she has loved the life of her only Son ; and if any thing could equal My aff'ection for you it would be her's." Ecce mater tua.^ O Mary ! such are our claims, and such is the security upon which we rely for the affection of thy heart towards us. We are thy children — the children of thy excessive anguish ; and we shall always place the most unbounded reliance upon thy maternal aff'ection for us. Into whatever abyss we may fall, we shall never despair as long as we are enabled to invoke thy name. Thou art not endued with that omnipotence which commands and which eff^ects whatever it pleases ; but thou hast that " omnipotence of supphcation" which obtains whatsoever it demands. Who has not experienced the effects of thy protection ? How often has it been displayed by miracles on behalf of the Church, of states, of king- doms, and of all who have implored thy assistance ! Those virgins who hear me are indebted to thy intercession for that favour which is most precious in their eyes : and the homage which they pay to thy sacred heart this day is dictated by gratitude. We join with them to-day in casting ourselves at thy feet, or rather in seeking refuge within thy heart, which is open as a safe retreat whither our * John, xix. 25. t I^d. 26. % Gen. iii. 20. § Gen. iii. 16, || John, xix. 27. 204 SERMONS RELATIVE TO THE BLESSED VIRGIN. enemies cannot pursue us. Alas I such as we are, mortals here below, simple faithful, priests of the Lord, or persons consecrated to God, we all groan beneath an oppressive weight of misery. We bear in frail bodies, which are liable to unnumbered evils, souls that are more feeble still, and liable to disorders which are far more fatal. We invoke thee, support of the weak ! health of the infirm ! Salus infirmorum. This life is fruitful in reverses of fortune, in disgraces and calamities ; there is scarce an eye that has not tears to shed, or a heart exempt from anguish and affliction. We invoke thee, comfortress of the afflicted ! Consolatrix afflictorum. Is there one of us who can presume to say that he is innocent and spotless in the eyes of the Lord ? Is there one of us who is not accountable to the divine Justice in some respect ? Some are still enslaved by their passions ; others are the sport of most deplorable illusions ; others who have returned from their evil ways are ter- rified by the recollection of their past disorders ; others, in fine, have reason to reproach themselves with less grievous but daily transgressions, with faults which are trifling but never corrected. We acknowledge that we are all sinful creatures, and we invoke thee, refuge of sinners ! Refugium peccatorum. We have all embarked upon a stormy ocean ; we sail in frail barks, in the midst of dan- gers, often uncertain of the course we ought to steer, but too certain of suffering an awful and irreparable shipwreck if we fail to enter the only haven of salvation. Overcome with fear, we invoke thee, help of Christians in distress ! Auxiliiim Christianorum, We shall not perish, O mother of mercy ! thou art the star which will guide us through so many dangers, to that haven of bliss where our hearts, united to thine, shall enjoy an eternal rest in the bosom of God after all the toil and anguish of this sorrowful pilgrimage. Amen, DISCOURSE ON THE IMITATION OF MARY AND ELIZABETH. 205 DISCOURSE ON THE IMITATION OF MARY AND ELIZABETH. DELIVERED IN THE CHAPEL OF THE NUNS OF THE VISITATION, AT CHAMBERY, AT THE CELEBRATION OF THE AUTHOR'S FIRST MASS, ON THE 2nd of JULY, 1814, BEING THE FEAST OF THE VISITATION OF THE BLESSED VIRGIN. " H