St. Teresa adds that Catherine spent more than eight years in this desert cave, that after having exhausted the small provision of three loaves left her by the hermit who had served her as a guide, she had lived solely on roots and wild herbs, but that, after several years, she met with a shepherd, who thenceforward faithfully supplied her with bread, of which she, nevertheless, ate but once in three days. The discipline which she took with a large chain lasted often for an hour and a half, and sometimes two hours. Her hair-cloth was so rough that a woman, returning from a pilgrimage, having asked hospitality of her, told me (it is still St. Teresa who speaks), that feigning sleep, she saw the holy recluse take off her hair-cloth and wipe it clean, for it was full of blood. The warfare she had to sustain against the demons made her suffer still more than her austerities; she told our sisters that they appeared to her, now in the form of great dogs who sprang on her shoulders, and now in that of snakes; but do as they might, they could not make her afraid.

She heard Mass in a convent of the Sisters of Mercy, a quarter of a league distant; sometimes she made the journey on her knees. She wore a tunic of coarse serge, and over that a robe of drugget so fashioned that she was taken for a man.

Nevertheless, the fame of her sanctity soon spread everywhere, and the people conceived so great a veneration for her that they flocked from every side, so that, on certain days, the surrounding country was covered with vehicles full of people going to see her.

"About this time," says St. Teresa, "she was seized with a great desire to found near her cave a monastery of religious, but being undecided in her choice of the order, she postponed for a time the execution of her design. One day while at prayer before a crucifix which she always carried about her, Our Lord showed her a white mantle, and gave her to understand that she was to found a monastery of barefooted Carmelites. She knew not till then that such an order existed, as she had never heard it mentioned; indeed, we had then but two monasteries of reformed Carmelites, that of Moncera and that of Pastrana. Catherine was speedily informed of the existence of this last. As Pastrana belonged to the Princess of Eboli, her former friend, she set out for that town with the firm resolution of doing what Our Lord had enjoined her to do. It was at Pastrana, in the church of our religious, that the Blessed Catherine took the habit of Our Lady of Mount Carmel, having no intention, notwithstanding that act, to embrace the religious life. Our Lord conducted her by another way, and she never felt any attraction towards that state. What kept her away from it was the fear of being obliged through obedience to moderate her austerities and quit her solitude."

As she had worn man's apparel ever since she had been in the desert, she would not now change it. So, in laying aside her hermit's robe, and assuming that of Carmel, she took a habit like that of the barefooted Carmelite monks, and wore it till her last breath. In this Catherine was led by a very special way.

Catherine had been preceded at Pastrana by the account of the wonders which had marked the eight years she had spent in her cave; she was thus greeted as a saint as soon as she appeared; no one was surprised to see her in her Carmelite habit, a cowl on her head, a white mantle on her shoulders, a robe of coarse drugget, and a leathern girdle. God permitted the appearance of Catherine at the court of Philip II. as a virgin with the heart of a man, victorious over all the weakness, of her sex, and rivalling in her austerities the most famous penitents of the desert. At the Escurial, she observed the same abstinence as in her hermitage; there, as in her cave, she took but one hour's sleep, and gave to prayer the rest of the time at her disposal.

From the Escurial, Catherine returned to Madrid. From the carriage in which she rode, she gave her blessing to the multitudes who crowded the road as she passed. ... The Nuncio, having sent for her, reproached her for wearing the apparel of a man, and for taking it upon her to give her blessing, like a bishop. The humble virgin heard all prostrate on the ground. When the Nuncio had finished speaking, she arose and justified herself with that holy simplicity peculiar to herself. The legate of the Holy See, perceiving then that God was leading the Blessed Catherine by an extraordinary way, left her at liberty to wear that costume, blessed her, and recommended himself to her prayers.

In Madrid Catherine again met Don Juan of Austria, who had been appointed Generalissimo of the Christian fleet directed against the Turks. He gave her the name of mother, and regarded her as a Saint. After having given some wise counsel to the young prince, she predicted to him that he should obtain a victory over the enemies of the Christian name. It was a happy day in the life of Don Juan on which he heard these prophetic words. Kneeling on the ground, with clasped hands and tearful eyes, the future liberator of Christendom asked Catherine's blessing, and arose with a heart strengthened by an invincible hope.

The Carmelites of Toledo, amongst whom she spent some time, endeavoring to persuade her to diminish her austerities a little, she replied in these memorable words, which reveal to us the secret of her life: "When one has seen, as I have, what Purgatory and Hell are, one cannot do too much to draw souls from one, and preserve them from the other; I may not spare myself, since I have offered myself in sacrifice for them."

On the 7th October, 1571, Catherine was warned by a light from above that the great combat against the Turks was to take place that day. She macerated herself with fearful rigor, and offered herself as a victim to the anger of God, justly indignant at the sins of His people. She addressed to the Saviour of men the most tender supplications, when, all at once, seized with a holy transport, she uttered in a distinct voice these words, which were heard by several persons of the Court: "O Lord, the hour is come, help Thy Church; give the victory to the Catholic chiefs; have pity on so many kingdoms which are Thine own, preserve them from ruin! The wind is against us: my God, if Thou order it not to change, we perish!"

Some time after, she cried out in a still stronger voice: "Blessed be Thou, O Lord, Thou hast changed the wind at the needful moment; finish what Thou hast begun!" After these words she prayed in silence for a long space of time. Then, starting up joyfully, she offered to God the most lively thanksgivings for the victory He had just granted to His Church.

Soon, in fact, the news of the victory of Lepanto confirmed the miraculous vision of Catherine. Don Juan wrote immediately to the venerable Catherine of Cardona, thanking her for her prayers, and sent her, as a memento, some spoils taken from the enemy.

Catherine having received, at the Court and elsewhere, sufficient means to found her monastery, regained her solitude in the month of March, 1572. She lived there five years longer. It has been considered as a supernatural thing that mortifications so extraordinary as hers had not ended her life sooner. She died on the 11th of May, 1577.

"One day," says St. Teresa, "after having received communion in the church of this monastery (that which Catherine had founded), I entered into a profound recollection, which was soon followed by an ecstasy. Whilst I was thus ravished out of myself, that holy woman appeared to my intellectual vision, resplendent with light like a glorified body, and surrounded by angels. She said to me: 'Weary not of founding monasteries, but rather pursue that work with ardor.' I understood, albeit that she did not say so, that she was assisting me with God. This apparition left me exceedingly comforted, and inflamed with the desire of working for Our Lord's glory. Hence, I hope from His divine goodness and the powerful prayers of that Saint, that I may be able to do something for His service."

THE EMPEROR NICHOLAS PRAYING FOR HIS MOTHER.

Heretics or Schismatics care very little about contradicting themselves. It is of the nature of the iniquity of lying. The Anti de la Religion, of March 1, 1851, judiciously observes:

"It is well known that the Russian Church pretends not to admit the doctrine of Purgatory, which one of its principal prelates set down as 'a crude modern invention.' Nevertheless, the manifesto recently published by the Emperor Nicholas, on the death of his mother, the Grand Duchess Elizabeth, Duchess of Nassau, concludes with these words: 'We are convinced that all our faithful subjects will unite their prayers with ours, for the repose of the soul of the deceased.' How are we to reconcile this request for prayers with the denial of Purgatory, coming as it does from the mouth of the supreme pontiff of the Church of Russia?"—"Christian Anecdotes."

FUNERAL ORATION ON PIUS VI.

REV. ARTHUR O'LEARY, O S F.

Thou hast lifted me up, and cast me down. My days are like a shadow; that declineth, and I am withered like grass; but thou, O Lord, shall, endure forever.—Ps. cii., verses 10, 11, 12.

Yes! O my God! You lift up and you cast down; you humble and you exalt the sons of men. You cut off the breath of princes, and are terrible to the kings of the earth. It is then we know your power, when, by the stroke of death, we feel what we are, that our life is but as a shadow that declineth, a vapor dispersed by the beams of the rising sun, or as the grass which loses at noon the verdure it had acquired from the morning dew. It is a truth of which we, are made sensible upon this mournful occasion, and in this sacred temple, where the trophies of death are displayed, and its image reflected on every side. The mournful accents of the solemn dirge, the sable drapery that lines these walls, the vestments of the ministers of the sacred altar, this artificial darkness which is a figure of the darkness of the grave;— the tapers that blaze around the sanctuary to put us in mind that when our mortal life is extinct, there is an immortal life beyond the grave, in a kingdom of light and bliss reserved for those who walk on earth by the light of the gospel;—that tomb, in which the tiara and the sceptre, the Pontifical dignity, and the power of the temporal prince, are covered over with a funeral shroud,—every object that strikes the eye, and every sound that vibrates on the ear, is an awful memento which reminds us of our approaching dissolution, points out the vanity and nothingness of all earthly grandeur, and convinces, us that in holiness of life, which unites us to God and secures an immortal crown in the enjoyment of the sovereign good, consists the greatness as well as the happiness of man. An awful truth exemplified in many great characters, hurled from the summit of power and grandeur into an abyss of woe, whose unshaken virtue supported them under the severest trials, and whose greatness of soul shone conspicuous in their fall as well as in their elevation. A truth particularly exemplified in His Holiness Pope Pius VI., whose obsequies we are assembled to solemnize on this day—Pius VI. great in prosperity; Pius VI. great in adversity.

When his life is written by an impartial hand, when his contemporaries are dead, when history lays open the hidden and mysterious springs of the events connected with his reign, and posterity erects a tribunal, at which it is to judge, without dread of giving offence, then his virtues and wisdom will appear in their true light, as the symmetry and proportion of those beautiful statues, which are placed in the porticoes or entrance of temples and public edifices, are better discovered, and seen to a greater advantage at a certain distance.

* * * * *

Though His life was spotless, yet as the judgments of God are unsearchable, as there is such a quantity of dross mixed with our purest gold, such chaff with our purest grain, our purest virtues tarnished with so many imperfections, that on appearing in the presence of God, into whose Kingdom the slightest stain is not admitted, who can say, "My soul is pure; I have nothing to answer for?" as in our belief, divine justice may inflict temporary as well as eternal punishments beyond the grave, according to the quality of unexpiated offences, let us perform the sacred rites of our holy religion for the repose of his soul. [1]

[Footnote 1: These extracts are taken from the funeral oration on Pius VI, delivered at St. Patrick's Chapel, Soho, in presence of Monsignore Erskine, Papal Auditor, on the 10th Nov., 1799.]

FROM THE FUNERAL ORATION ON THE REV. ARTHUR. O'LEARY, O.S.F.

REV. MORGAN D'ARCY.

My brethren, as it is God alone, that searcher of hearts, who can truly appreciate the merits of His elect, as it belongs only to the Holy Catholic Church, "that pillar and ground of truth," to canonize them, as we know that nothing impure can enter into heaven, and that Moses himself, that great legislator, and peculiar favorite of heaven, was not entirely spotless in the discharge of his ministry, nor exempt from temporal punishment at his death, let us no longer interrupt the awful mysteries and impressive ceremonies of religion, but, uniting, and, as it were, embodying our prayers and fervent supplications, let us offer a holy violence to heaven; while we mingle our tears with the precious blood of the spotless Victim offered in sacrifice on our hallowed altar, let us implore the Father of Mercies, through the merits and passion of His adorable Son, our merciful Redeemer, to purify this His minister, and admit him to a participation of the never-ending joys of the heavenly Jerusalem. May he rest in peace. Amen.

DE MORTUIS. OUR DECEASED PRELATES.

[From a Sermon delivered by Most Rev. ARCHBISHOP CORRIGAN, of NEW YORK, at the THIRD PLENARY COUNCIL of BALTIMORE.]

Remember your prelates who have spoken the Word of God to you. Heb. c. xiii. v. 2.

Of the forty-six Fathers who sat in the Second Plenary Council, only sixteen still survive. More than this. During the few years that have since elapsed not only have thirty bishops and archbishops gone to the house of their eternity, but in several instances, their successors, too, have passed away, so that the Solemn Requiem offered this morning for the prelates who have died since the last Council is chanted for forty-two consecrated rulers. For these, "as it is a good and wholesome thought to pray for the dead," we send up our sighs and our prayers in the spirit of fraternal charity, and as a tribute of love and gratitude to our Fathers in the faith who had the burden of the day and the heat, and who now rest from their labors. "Blessed are the dead who die in the Lord. From henceforth now, saith the Spirit,... for their works follow them."

In the commemorative services and solemn supplications offered in this cathedral, the first place, dear brethren, is deservedly due to your own lamented archbishops.... Besides these, memory turns, with fond regret, to a long list of Right Reverend Prelates, who were all present at the late Plenary Council, and who have since, one by one, passed away.... As we repeat each well-known name, hosts of pleasant memories come crowding on the mind just as by-gone scenes are awakened to new life by some sweet strain of once familiar music. Venerable forms loom up again before us with the paternal kindness, the distinguished presence, the winning ways we knew so well of old; and while the vision lasts we seem to hear a still small voice saying: "To-day for me, to- morrow for thee," or the echo of the words spoken by the wise woman of Thecua to the king on his throne: "We all die, and fall down into the earth, like waters that return no more."

"Star differeth from star in glory." The bishops, whose virtues we commemorate, differed in gifts of mind, in habits of thought, in nationality, in early training, in personal experience, in almost everything else but their common faith. This golden bond united them to each other and to us. There was still another point of resemblance and another link that bound them all together—the participation in the divine work of the Good Shepherd which was laid upon them all....



PART IV.

THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON PURGATORY.

The fuel justice layeth on, And mercy blows the coals, The metal in this furnace wrought Is men's defiled souls.—SOUTHWELL.

THOUGHTS OF VARIOUS AUTHORS ON PURGATORY.

PURGATORY.

CARDINAL NEWMAN.

Thus we see how, as time went on, the doctrine of Purgatory was brought home to the minds of the faithful as a portion or form of penance due for post-baptismal sin. And thus the apprehension of this doctrine, and the practice of Infant Baptism, would grow into general reception together. Cardinal Fisher gives another reason for Purgatory being then developed out of earlier points of faith. He says: "Faith, whether in Purgatory or in Indulgences, was not so necessary in the Primitive Church as now; for then love so burned that every one was ready to meet death for Christ. Crimes were rare; and such as occurred were avenged by the great severity of the Canons.... The doctrine of post-baptismal sin, especially when realized in the doctrine of Purgatory, leads the inquirer to fresh developments beyond itself. Its effect is to convert a Scripture statement, which might seem only of temporary application, into a universal and perpetual truth. When St. Paul and St. Barnabas would 'confirm the souls of the disciples,' they taught them 'that we must, through much tribulation, enter into the kingdom of God.' It is obvious what very practical results would follow on such an announcement in the instance of those who accepted the apostolic decision; and, in like manner, a conviction that sin must have its punishment, here or hereafter, and that we all must suffer, how overpowering will be its effect, what a new light does it cast on the history of the soul, what a change does it make in our judgment of the external world, what a reversal of our natural wishes and aims for the future! Is a doctrine conceivable which would so elevate the mind above this present state, and teach it so successfully to dare difficult things, and to be reckless of danger and pain? He who believes that suffer he must, and that delayed punishment may be the greater, will be above the world, will admire nothing, fear nothing, desire nothing. He has within his breast a source of greatness, self-denial, heroism. This is the secret spring of strenuous efforts and persevering toil; of the sacrifice of fortune, friends, ease, reputation, happiness. There is, it is true, a higher class of motives which will be felt by the Saints; who will do from love what all Christians who act acceptably do from faith. And, moreover, the ordinary measures of charity which Christians possess suffice for securing such respectable attention to religious duties as the routine necessities of the Church require. But, if we would raise an army of devoted men to resist the world, to oppose sin and error, to relieve misery, or to propagate truth, we must be provided with motives which keenly affect the many. Christian love is too rare a gift, philanthropy is too weak a material, for that occasion. Nor is there an influence to be found to suit our purpose besides this solemn conviction, which arises out of the very rudiments of Christian theology, and is taught by its most ancient masters,—this sense of the awfulness of post-baptismal sin. It is in vain to look out for missionaries for China or Africa, or evangelists for our great towns, or Christian attendants on the sick, or teachers of the ignorant, on such a scale of numbers as the need requires, without the doctrine of Purgatory. For thus the sins of youth are turned to account by the profitable penance of manhood; and terrors, which the philosopher scorns in the individual, become the benefactors, and earn the gratitude of nations."—Essay on the Development of Christian Doctrine, [1] p. 386.

[Footnote 1: Nevertheless, means must be taken to pay back this sum so seasonably advanced. Hence it is, that at the request of the Minister General of the Franciscans, Father Marie, of Brest, has made a touching appeal to all.]

OUR DEBT TO THE DEAD.

CARDINAL MANNING

The Saints, by their intercession and their patronage, unite us with God. They watch over us; they pray for us; they obtain graces for us. Our guardian angels are round about us: they watch over and protect us. The man who has not piety enough to ask their prayers must have a heart but little like to the love and veneration of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. But there are other friends of God to whom we owe a debt of piety. They are those who are suffering beyond the grave, in the silent kingdom of pain and expiation—in the dark and yet blessed realm of purification; that is to say, the multitudes who pass out of this world, washed in the Precious Blood, perfectly absolved of all guilt of sin, children and friends of God, blessed souls, heirs of the kingdom of Heaven, all but Saints; nevertheless, they are not yet altogether purified for His kingdom. They are there detained—kept back from His presence—until their expiation is accomplished. You and I, and every one of us, will pass through that place of expiation. Neither you nor I are Saints, nor, upon earth, ever will be; therefore, before we can see God, we must be purified by pain in that silent realm. But those blessed souls are friends of God next after His Saints; and in the same order they ought to be the objects of our piety; that is, of our love and compassion, of our sympathy and our prayers. They can do nothing now for themselves: they have no longer any Sacraments; they do not even pray for themselves. They are so conformed to the will of God that they suffer there in submission and in silence. They desire nothing except that His will should be accomplished. Therefore, it is our duty to help them—to help them by our prayers, our penances, our mortifications, our alms, by the Holy Sacrifice of the Altar. There may be father and mother, brother and sister, friend and child, whom you have loved as your own life: they may now be there. Have you forgotten them? Have you no pity for them now, no natural piety, no spirit of love for them? Do you forget them all the day long? Look back upon those who made your home in your early childhood, the light of whose faces you can still see shining in your memories, and the sweetness of whose voice is still in your ears—do you forget them because they are no longer seen? Is it, indeed, "out of sight, out of mind"? What an impiety of heart is this!

The Catholic Church, the true mother of souls, cherishes, with loving memory, all her departed. Never does a day pass but she prays for them at the altar; never does a year go by that there is not a special commemoration of all her children departed on one solemn day, which is neither feast nor fast, but a day of the profoundest piety and of the deepest compassion. Surely, then, if we have the spirit of piety in our hearts, the holy souls will be a special object of our remembrance and our prayers. How many now are there whom we have known in life? There are those who have been grievously afflicted, and those who have been very sinful, but, through the Precious Blood and a death-bed repentance, have been saved at last. Have you forgotten them? Are you doing nothing for them? There may also be souls there for whom there is no one to pray on earth; there may be souls who are utterly forgotten by their own kindred, outcast from all remembrance; and yet the Precious Blood was shed for their sakes. If no one remember, them now, you, at least, if you have in your hearts the gift of piety, will pray for them.—Internal Mission of the Holy Ghost, p. 247.

PURGATORY

CARDINAL WISEMAN.

I need hardly observe, that there is not a single liturgy existing, whether we consider the most ancient period of the Church, or the most distant part of the world, in which this doctrine is not laid down. In all Oriental liturgies, we find parts appointed, in which the Priest or Bishop is ordered to pray for the souls of the faithful departed; and tables were anciently kept in the churches, called the Dyptichs, on which the names of the deceased were enrolled, that they might be remembered in the Sacrifice of the Mass and the prayers of the faithful. The name of Purgatory scarcely requires a passing comment. It has, indeed, been made a topic of abuse, on the ground that it is not to be found in Scripture. But where is the word Trinity to be met with? Where is the word Incarnation to be read in Scripture? Where are many other terms, held most sacred and important in the Christian religion? The doctrines are, indeed, found there; but these names were not given, until circumstances had rendered them necessary. We see that the Fathers of the Church have called it a purging fire—a place of expiation or purgation. The idea is precisely, the name almost, the same.

It has been said by divines of the English Church, that the two doctrines which I have joined together, of prayers for the dead and Purgatory, have no necessary connection, and that, in fact, they were not united in the ancient Church. The answer to this assertion I leave to your memories, after the passages which I have read you from the Fathers. They surely speak of purgation by fire after death, whereby the imperfections of this life are washed out, and satisfaction made to God for sins not sufficiently expiated; they speak, at the same time, of our prayers being beneficial to those who have departed this life in a state of sin; and these propositions contain our entire doctrine on Purgatory. It has also been urged that the established religion, or Protestantism, does not deny or discourage prayers for the dead, so long as they are independent of a belief in Purgatory; and, in this respect, it is stated to agree with the primitive Christian Church. But, my brethren, this distinction is exceedingly fallacious. Religion is a lively, practical profession; it is to be ascertained and judged by its sanctioned practices and outward demonstration, rather than by the mere opinions of the few. I would at once fairly appeal to the judgment of any Protestant, whether he has been taught, and has understood that such is the doctrine of his Church. If, from the services which he attended, or the Catechism which he has learned, or the discourses heard, he has been led to suppose that praying for the dead, in terms however general, was noways a peculiarity of Catholicism, but as much a permitted practice of Protestantism. It is a practical doctrine in the Catholic Church, it has an influence highly consoling to humanity, and eminently worthy of a religion that came down from heaven to second all the purest feelings of the heart. Nature herself seems to revolt at the idea that the chain of attachment which binds us together in life, can be rudely snapped asunder by the hand of death, conquered and deprived of its sting since the victory of the cross. But it is not to the spoil of mortality, cold and disfigured, that she clings with affection. It is but an earthly and almost unchristian grief, which sobs when the grave closes over the bier of a departed loved one: but the soul flies upward to a more spiritual affection, and refuses to surrender the hold which it had upon the love and interest of the spirit that has fled. Cold and dark as the sepulchral vault is the belief that sympathy is at an end when the body is shrouded in decay, and that no further interchange of friendly offices may take place between those who have lain down to sleep in peace and us, who for awhile strew fading flowers upon their tomb. But sweet is the consolation to the dying man, who, conscious of imperfection, believes that even after his own time of merit is expired, there are others to make intercession on his behalf; soothing to the afflicted survivors the thought, that instead of unavailing tears they possess more powerful means of actively relieving their friend, and testifying their affectionate regret, by prayer and supplication. In the first moments of grief, this sentiment will often overpower religious prejudice, cast down the unbeliever on his knees beside the remains of his friend, and snatch from him an unconscious prayer for rest; it is an impulse of nature, which for the moment, aided by the analogies of revealed truth, seizes at once upon this consoling belief. But it is only like the flitting and melancholy light which sometimes plays as a meteor over the corpses of the dead; while the Catholic feeling, cheering, though with solemn dimness, resembles the unfailing lamp which the piety of the ancients is said to have hung before the sepulchres of their dead. It prolongs the tenderest affections beyond the gloom of the grave, and it infuses the inspiring hope that the assistance which we on earth can afford to our suffering brethren, will be amply repaid when they have reached their place of rest, and make of them friends, who, when we in our turns fail, shall receive us into everlasting mansions. [1]

[Footnote 1: "Lectures on the Catholic Church," often called the "Moorfield Lectures," from being delivered in St. Mary's Moorfields, in the Lent of 1836. Vol. I., Lecture xi, pp 65,68. This lecture upon Purgatory is an admirable exposition of the Catholic doctrine, supported by numberless testimonies from the Fathers.]

REPLY TO SOME MISSTATEMENTS ABOUT PURGATORY.

ARCHBISHOP SPALDING, OF BALTIMORE.

"The Synod of Florence," says this writer, [1] "was the first which taught the doctrine of Purgatory, as an article of faith. It had, indeed, been held by the Pope and by many writers, and it became the popular doctrine during the period under review; but it was not decreed by any authority of the universal, or even the whole Latin Church. In the Eastern Church it was always rejected."

[Footnote 1: Rev. Wm. A. Palmer of Worcester College, Oxford, in his "Compendium of Ecclesiastical History."]

Even admitting, for the sake of argument, that the Council of Florence was the first which defined this doctrine as an article of faith, would it thence follow that the doctrine itself was of recent origin? It could only be inferred that it was never before questioned, and that, therefore, there was no need of any definition on the subject. Would it follow from the fact, that the Council of Nice was the first general synod which defined the doctrine of the consubstantiality of the Son with the Father, that this, too, was a new doctrine, unknown to the three previous centuries? Mr. Palmer himself admits that this tenet of Purgatory "had become the popular doctrine during the period under review;" which, in connection with the solemn promises of Christ to guard His Church from error, clearly proves that it was an article of divine revelation,—on the principles even of our Oxford divine!

It is not true that "it was always rejected in the Eastern Church." The Greek Church admitted it in the Council of Florence and, at least, impliedly, in that of Lyons. It had never been a bar to union between the churches, however their theologians may have differed on the secondary question, whether the souls detained in this middle place of temporary expiation are purified by a material fire. "The ancient Fathers, both of the Greek and Latin Church, who had occasion to refer to the subject, had unanimously agreed in maintaining the doctrine, as could be easily shown by reference to their works. All the ancient liturgies of both Churches had embodied this same article of faith. And even at present, not only the Greek Church, but all the Oriental sectaries still hold it as doctrine, and practice accordingly."

COUNT DE MAISTRE ON PURGATORY.

You have heard, in countries separated from the Roman Church, the doctors of the law deny at once Hell and Purgatory. You might well have taken the denial of a word for that of a thing. An enormous power is that of words! The minister who would be angry at that of Purgatory will readily grant us a place of expiation, or an intermediate state, or perhaps even stations, who knows? without thinking it in the least ridiculous. One of the great motives of the sixteenth century revolt was precisely Purgatory. The insurgents would have nothing less than Hell, pure and simple. Nevertheless, when they became philosophers, they set about denying the eternity of punishment, allowing, nevertheless, a hell for a time, only through good policy and for fear of putting into heaven at one stroke Nero and Messalina side by side with St. Louis and St. Teresa. But a temporary hell is nothing else than Purgatory; so that having broken with us because they did not want Purgatory, they broke with us anew because they wanted Purgatory only.

WHAT THE SAINTS THOUGHT OF PURGATORY.

In the Special Announcement of the "Messenger of St. Joseph's Union" for 1885-6, we find the following interesting remarks in relation to the devotion to the Souls in Purgatory: "St. Gregory the Great, speaking of Purgatory, calls it 'a penitential fire harder to endure than all the tribulations of this world.' St. Augustine says that the torment of fire alone endured by the holy souls in Purgatory, exceeds all the tortures inflicted on the martyrs; and St. Thomas says that there is no difference between the fire of Hell and that of Purgatory. Prayer for the souls in Purgatory is a source of great blessings to ourselves. It is related of a holy religious who had for a long time struggled in vain to free himself from an impure temptation, and who appealed earnestly to the Blessed Virgin to deliver him, that she appeared to him and commanded him to pray earnestly for the souls in Purgatory. He did so, and from that time the temptation left him. The duration of the period of confinement in Purgatory is probably much longer than we are inclined to think. We find by the Revelations of Sister Francesca of Pampeluna that the majority of souls in Purgatory with whose sufferings she was made acquainted, were detained there for a period extending from thirty to sixty years; and, as many of those of whom she speaks were holy Carmelites, some of whom had even wrought miracles when on earth, what must be the fate of poor worldlings who seldom think of gaining an indulgence either for themselves or their departed friends and relatives? Father Faber commenting on this subject—the length of time that the holy souls are detained in Purgatory—says very justly: 'We are apt to leave off too soon praying for our parents, friends, or relatives, imagining with a foolish and unenlightened esteem for the holiness of their lives, that they are freed from Purgatory much sooner than they really are.' Can the holy souls in Purgatory assist us by their prayers? Most assuredly. St. Liguori says: 'Though the souls in Purgatory are unable to pray or merit for themselves, they can obtain by prayer many favors for those who pray for them on earth.' St. Catherine of Bologna has assured us that she obtained many favors by the prayers of the holy souls in Purgatory which she had asked in vain through the intercession of the saints. The Holy Ghost says: 'He who stoppeth his ear against the cry of the poor, shall also cry himself and shall not be heard,' and St. Vincent Ferrer says, in expounding that passage, that the holy souls in Purgatory cry to God for justice against those who on earth refuse to help them by their prayers, and that God will most assuredly hear their cry. Let us, therefore, do all in our power to relieve the holy souls in Purgatory, and avert from ourselves the punishment that God is sure to inflict on those whose faith is too dead, or whose hearts are too cold to heed the cry that rises, day and night, from that sea of fire: 'Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least you my friends!'" Job xix. 21.

PURGATORY.

CHATEAUBRIAND.

That the doctrine of Purgatory opens to the Christian poet a source of the marvellous which was unknown to antiquity will be readily admitted. [1] Nothing, perhaps, is more favorable to the inspiration of the muse than this middle state of expiation between the region of bliss and that of pain, suggesting the idea of a confused mixture of happiness and of suffering. The graduation of the punishments inflicted on those souls that are more or less happy, more or less brilliant, according to their degree of proximity to an eternity of joy or of woe, affords an impressive subject for poetic description. In this respect, it surpasses the subjects of heaven and hell, because it possesses a future which they do not.

[Footnote 1: Some trace of this dogma is to be found in Plato and in the doctrine of Zeno. (See Diog. Laer.) The poets also appear to have had some idea of it (AEneid, v. vi), but these notions are all vague and inconsequent.]

The river Lethe was a graceful appendage of the ancient Elysium; but it cannot be said that the shades which came to life again on its banks exhibited the same poetical progress in the way to happiness that we behold in the souls of Purgatory. When they left the abodes of bliss to reappear among men, they passed from a perfect to an imperfect state. They re-entered the ring for the fight. They were born again to undergo a second death. In short, they came forth to see what they had already seen before. Whatever can be measured by the human mind is necessarily circumscribed. We may admit, indeed, that there was something striking and true in the circle by which the ancients symbolized eternity; but it seems to us that it fetters the imagination by confining it always within a dreaded enclosure. The straight line extended ad infinitum would, perhaps, be more expressive, because it would carry our thoughts into a world of undefined realities, and would bring together three things which appear to exclude each other—hope, mobility, eternity.

The apportionment of the punishment to the sin is another source of invention which is found in the purgatorial state, and is highly favorable to the sentimental.... If violent winds, raging fires, and icy cold, lend their influence to the torments of hell, why may not milder sufferings be derived from the song of the nightingale, from the fragrance of flowers, from the murmur of the brook, or from the moral affections themselves? Homer and Ossian tell us of the joy of grief aruerou tetarpo mesthagolo.

Poetry finds its advantage also in that doctrine of Purgatory which teaches us that the prayers and other good works of the faithful may obtain the deliverance of souls from their temporal pains. How admirable is this intercourse between the living son and the deceased father—between the mother and daughter—between husband and wife— between life and death. What affecting considerations are suggested by this tenet of religion! My virtue, insignificant being as I am, becomes the common property of Christians; and, as I participate in the guilt of Adam, so also the good that I possess passes to the good of others. Christian poets! the prayers of your Nisus will be felt, in their happy effects, by some Euryalus beyond the grave. The rich, whose charity you describe, may well share their abundance with the poor, for the pleasure which they take in performing this simple and grateful act will receive its regard from the Almighty in the release of their parents from the expiatory flame. What a beautiful feature in our religion to impel the heart of man to virtue by the power of love, and to make him feel that the very coin which gives bread for the moment to an indigent fellow-being, entitles, perhaps, some rescued soul to an eternal position at the table of the Lord. [1]

[Footnote 1: "Genius of Christianity." Book II., Chap. xv. pp. 338- 340.]

MARY AND THE FAITHFUL DEPARTED.

BY BROTHER AZARIAS.

Mary, from her nearness to Jesus, has imbibed many traits of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. She shares, in a preeminent degree, His Divine compassion for sorrow and suffering. Where He loves and pities, she also loves and pities. Nay, may we not well say that all enduring anguish of soul and writhing under the pangs of a lacerated heart, are especially dear to both Jesus and Mary? Was not Jesus the Man of Sorrows? and did He not constitute Mary the Mother of suffering and sorrowing humanity? And even as His Divine breast knew keenest sorrow, did not a sword of sorrow pierce her soul? She participated in the agony of Jesus only as such a Mother can share the agony of such a Son; in the tenderest manner, therefore, does she commiserate sorrow and suffering wherever found. Though now far beyond all touch of pain and misery, still as the devoted Mother of a pain-stricken race, she continues to watch, to shield, to aid and to strengthen her children in their wrestlings with these mysterious visitants.

II.

Nor does Mary's interest cease upon this side of the grave. It accompanies souls beyond. And when she beholds those souls undergoing their final purgation, before entering upon the enjoyment of the beatific vision, she pities them with a pity all the more heartfelt because their suffering is so much greater than any they could have endured in this life. See the state of those souls. They are in grace and favor with God; they are burning with love for Him; they are yearning, with a yearning boundless in its intensity, to drink refreshment of life, and love, and sanctification, and to be replenished with goodness and truth, and to perfect their natures at the Fountain-head of all truth, all goodness, all love, and all perfection. They are yearning; but so clearly and piercingly does the white light of God's truth and God's holiness shine through them and penetrate every fold and recess of their moral natures, and reveal to them every slightest imperfection, that they dare not approach Him and gratify their intense desire to be united with Him. Their weaknesses and imperfections; the traces in them of, and the attachments in them to, former sins, incident upon the frailties of feeble human nature, still cling to them, and must needs be consumed in the fiery ordeal of suffering before their enjoyment of the beatific vision can be completed and their union with the Godhead consummated.

III.

That there should be for souls after death such a state of purgation is all within the grasp of human reason. It is a doctrine that was taught in the remotest ages of the world. Here is a condensed version of the tradition as handed down in clearest terms, beautifully expressed by one of the world's greatest thinkers and writers: "All things are distinctly manifest in the soul after it has been divested of the body; and this is true both of the natural disposition of the soul and of the affections that the man has acquired from his various pursuits. When therefore the soul comes before the Judge ... the Judge finds all things distorted through pride and falsehood and whatsoever is unrighteous, for as much as the soul has been nurtured with untruth ... and he forthwith sends it to a prison state where it will undergo the punishment it deserves. But it behooveth that he that is punished, if he be justly punished, either become better and receive benefit from his punishment, or become a warning to others.... But whoso are benefited ... are such as have been guilty of curable transgressions; their benefit here and hereafter [1] accrues to them through pains and torments; for it is impossible to get rid of injustice by other manner of means." This reads like a page torn from one of the early Fathers of the Church. [2] More than five centuries before the Christian era it was penned by Plato. [3] Clearly does he draw the line between eternal punishment for unrepented crimes and temporal punishment for curable Idmpa trangressions. Virgil in no uncertain tone echoes the same doctrine, making no exception to the rule that some corporeal stains and traces of ill follow all beyond the grave; and therefore do they suffer punishment and pay the penalty of old wrongs. [4] What antiquity has handed down, and reason has found to be just and proper, the Church has defined and decreed. She has gone further. She has supplemented and completed the pagan conception of expiation by that of intercession; and she has added thereto, for the comfort and consolation of the living and the dead, that the souls so suffering "may be helped by the suffrages of the faithful, but principally by the acceptable Sacrifice of the Altar." [5] And in her prayers for deceased friends, relatives and benefactors, she is mindful of Mary's sweet influence with her Son, and asks their deliverance through her intercession. [6]

[Footnote 1: Kai enthude kai en Aidou]

[Footnote 2: There is a passage in Clement of Alexandria, not unlike this in statement of the same doctrine ("Stromaton" 1. vi. m. 14, p. 794 Ed. Potter). The passage is quoted in "Faith of Catholics." Vol. Ill p. 142.]

[Footnote 3: Gorgias, cap. lxxx, lxxxi.]

[Footnote 4: AEneid, lib. vi. 735, 740.]

[Footnote 5: Council of Trent, Sess. xxv. Decret. de Purgatorio, p. 204.]

[Footnote 6: Beata Maria semper virgine intercedente.]

The tendency to commune with the dead, and to pray for them, is strong and universal. It survives whatever systems or whatever creeds men may invent for its suppression. Samuel Johnson is professedly a staunch Protestant, bristling with prejudices, but a delicate moral sense enters the rugged manhood of his nature. Instinctively he seeks to commune with his departed wife, after the manner dear to the Catholic heart, but forbidden to the Protestant. He keeps the anniversary of her death. He composes a prayer for the repose of her soul, beseeching God "to grant her whatever is best in her present state, and finally to receive her to eternal happiness." [1]

[Footnote 1: Boswell's Johnson, vol. 1, p. 100. Croker's Ed. There is pathos in this entry, remembering the man: "Mar. 28, 1753. I kept this day as the anniversary of my Tetty's death, with prayer and tears in the morning. In the evening I prayed for her conditionally, if it were lawful." Ibid. p. 97.]

IV

Of the nature and intensity of the sufferings of souls undergoing this purgation, we on earth can form but the faintest conception. Not so Mary. She sees things as they are. She sees the great love animating those I holy souls. She sees their eager desire to be united to God, the sole centre and object of their being. She sees and appreciates the struggle going on in them between that intense desire—that great yearning—that groping after perfect union—that unfilled and unsatiated vagueness arising from their privation of the only fulness that could replenish them, on the one hand, and on the other, the sense of their unfitness, keen, strong, deep, intense, overwhelming them and driving them back to the flames of pain and soul-hunger and soul-thirst until they shall have satisfied God's justice to the last farthing, and even the slightest stain has been cleansed, and they stand forth in the light of God's sanctity, whole and spotless. She sees the terrible struggle; and her motherly heart goes out in tender pity to these her children, washed and ransomed by the Blood of her Divine Son, and she is well disposed to extend to them the aid of her powerful intercession. She is fitly called the Mother of Mercy. Her merciful heart goes out to these, the favored ones of her Son, all the more lovingly and tenderly because they are unable to help themselves.

V.

But whilst Mary looks upon those souls with an eye of tender mercy and sweet compassion, and whilst Jesus is prepared to admit them to the beatific vision as soon as they become thoroughly purified, still the assuaging of their pains and the abridging of their time of purgation depend in a great measure upon the graces and the merits that are applied to them by us, their brethren upon earth. According to the earnestness of the prayers we say for them, and the measure of the good works we do for them, will the intercession of Mary and all the saints be efficacious with Jesus in their behalf. It is unspeakably consoling to the living and the dead to know that the members of the Church militant upon earth have it within their power to aid and relieve the members of the Church suffering. It is therefore really and indeed a holy and a wholesome thought for us of the one to pray for those of the other. It is more: it is an imperative duty we owe the faithful departed. They are our brethren in Christ, bought at the same price, nurtured by the same graces, living by the same faith, and sanctified by the same spirit. Many of them may have been near and dear to us in this life; and of these, many again may now suffer because of us; whether it was that we led them directly into wrong-doing, or whether it was that, in their loving kindness for us, they connived at, permitted, aided or abetted us, in what their consciences had whispered them not to be right. In each and every case it is our bounden duty to do all in our power to assuage sufferings to which we may have been accessory. In heart-rending accents do they cry out to us: "Have pity on me, have pity on me, at least ye my friends!" [1] And as we would have others do by us under like circumstances, so should we not turn a deaf ear to their petition.

[Footnote 1: Job, xix. 21.]

VI.

Daily does the Angel of Death enter our houses, and summon from us those that are rooted in our affections, and for whom our heart-throbs beat in love and esteem. Daily must we bow our heads in reverent silence and submission to the decree that snatches from us some loved one. Perhaps it is a wife who mourns the loss of her husband. She finds comfort and companionship in praying for the repose of his soul; in the words of Tertullian, "she prays for his soul, and begs for him in the interim refreshments, and in the first resurrection companionship, and maketh offerings on the anniversary day of his falling asleep." [1] Perhaps it is a husband whose loving wife has gone to sleep in death. Then will he hold her memory sacred, and offer thereto the incense of unceasing prayer, so that it may be said of him as St. Jerome wrote to Pammachius: "Thou hast rendered what was due to each part; giving tears to the body and alms to the soul.... There were thy tears where thou knewest was death; there were thy works where thou knewest was life.... Already is she honored with thy merits; already is she fed with thy bread, and abounds with thy riches." [2] Perhaps it is a dear friend around whom our heart-strings were entwined, and whose love for us was more than we were worthy of: whose counsels were our guide; whose soul was an open book in which we daily read the lesson of high resolve and sincere purpose; whose virtuous life was a continuous inspiration urging us on to noble thought and noble deed; and yet our friendship may have bound his soul in ties too earthly, and retarded his progress in perfection; in consequence he may still dread the light of God's countenance, and may be lingering in this state of purgation. It behooves us in all earnestness, and in friendship's sacred claim, to pray unceasingly for that friend, beseeching God to let the dews of Divine mercy fall upon his parching soul, assuage his pain, and take him to Himself, to complete his happiness.

[Footnote 1: "Dc Monogam," n. x. p 531. "Faith of Catholics," Vol. III., p. 144.]

[Footnote 2: Ep. XXXVII]

So the sacred duty of prayer for the dead runs through all the relations of life. From all comes the cry begging for our prayers. We cannot in justice ignore it; we cannot be true to ourselves and unmindful of our suffering brethren. Every reminder that we receive is a voice coming from the grave. Now it is the mention of a name that once brought gladness to our hearts; or we come across a letter written by a hand whose grasp used to thrill our souls—that hand now stiffened and cold in death; or it is the sight of some relic that vividly recalls the dear one passed away; or it is a dream—and to whom has not such a dream occurred?—in which we live over again the pleasant past with the bosom friend of our soul, and he is back once more, in the flesh, re-enacting the scenes of former days, breathing and talking as naturally as though there were no break in his life or ours and we had never parted. When we awaken from our dream, and the pang of reality, like a keen blade, penetrates our hearts, let us not rest content with a vain sigh of regret, or with useless tears of grief; let us pray God to give the dear departed soul eternal rest, and admit it to the perpetual light of His Presence. And in like manner should we regard all other reminders as so many appeals to the charity of our prayers. In this way will the keeping of the memory of those gone before us be to them a blessing and to us a consolation.

VII.

Furthermore, every prayer we say, every sacrifice we make, every alms we give for the repose of the dear departed ones, will all return upon ourselves in hundredfold blessings. They are God's choice friends, dear to His Sacred Heart, living in His grace and in constant communing with Him; and though they may not alleviate their own sufferings, their prayers in our behalf always avail. They can aid us most efficaciously. God will not turn a deaf ear to their intercession. Being holy souls, they are grateful souls. The friends that aid them, they in turn will also aid. We need not fear praying for them in all faith and confidence. They will obtain for us the special favors we desire. They will watch over us lovingly and tenderly; they will guard our steps; they will warn us against evil; they will shield us in moments of trial and danger; and when our day of purgatorial suffering comes, they will use their influence in our behalf to assuage our pains and shorten the period of our separation from the Godhead. And so may we, in constant prayer, begging in a special manner the intercession of Mary the Mother of Mercy, say to our Lord and Saviour: "_Deliver them from gloom and darkness, and snatch them from sorrow and grief; enter not into judgment with them, nor severely examine their past life; but whether in word or deed they have sinned, as men clothed with flesh, forgive and do away with their transgressions." [1]

[Footnote 1: From prayer for the Faithful Departed in the Syriac Liturgy. See "Faith of Catholics," Vol. III, p. 203]

DR. JOHNSON ON PRAYERS FOR THE DEAD.

BOSWELL. What do you, think, sir, of Purgatory, as believed by the Roman Catholics?

JOHNSON. Why, sir, it is a very harmless doctrine. They are of opinion that the generality of mankind are neither so obstinately wicked as to deserve everlasting punishment, nor so good as to merit being admitted into the society of blessed spirits; and therefore that God is graciously pleased to allow of a middle state, where they may be purified by certain degrees of suffering. You see, sir, that there is nothing unreasonable in this.

BOSWELL. But then, sir, their Masses for the dead?

JOHNSON. Why, sir, if it be once established that there are souls in Purgatory, it is as proper to pray for them as for our brethren of mankind who are yet in this life.

BOSWELL. The idolatry of the Mass?

JOHNSON. Sir, there is no idolatry in the Mass. They believe God to be there, and they adore Him.

* * * * *

BOSWELL. We see in Scripture that Dives still retained an anxious concern about his brethren?

JOHNSON. Why, sir, we must either suppose that passage to be metaphorical, or hold with many divines, and all purgatorians, that departed souls do not all at once arrive at the utmost perfection of which they are capable.

* * * * *

BOSWELL. Do you think, sir, it is wrong in a man who holds the doctrine of Purgatory to pray for the souls of his deceased friends?

JOHNSON. Why, no, sir.

* * * * *

He states, that he spent March 22, 1753, in prayers and tears in the morning; and in the evening prayed for the soul of his deceased wife, "conditionally, if it be lawful." The following is his customary prayer for his dead wife: "And, O Lord, so far as it may be lawful in me, I commend to Thy fatherly goodness the soul of my departed wife; beseeching Thee to grant her whatever is best in her present state, and finally to receive her into eternal happiness."—Boswell's "Life of Johnson," Pages 169, 188.

THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY.

BURNETT [1]

[Footnote 1: From his work, "The Path which Led a Protestant Lawyer to the Catholic Church," p. 637.]

The Council of Trent declared, as the faith of the Catholic Church, "that there is a Purgatory, and that the souls there detained are helped by the suffrages of the faithful, but principally by the acceptable sacrifice of the altar."

This is all that is required to be believed. As to the kind and measure of the purifying punishment, the Church defines nothing. This doctrine has been very much misrepresented, and has most generally been attacked by sarcasm and denunciation. But is this a satisfactory method to treat a grave matter of faith, coming down to us from the olden times? The doctrine of Purgatory is most intimately connected with the doctrine of sacramental absolution and satisfaction, and legitimately springs from it. That there is a distinction in the guilt of different sins, must be conceded. All our criminal laws, and those of all nations, are founded upon this idea. To say that the smallest transgression, the result of inadvertence, is equal in enormity to the greatest and most deliberate crime, is utterly opposed to the plain nature of all law, and to the word of God, which assures us that men shall be punished or rewarded according to their works (Rom. ii. 6), as not to require any refutation. Our Lord assures us that men must give an account in the day of judgment for every idle word they speak (Matt, xii. 36), and St. John tells us that nothing denied shall enter heaven (Rev. xxi. 27). Then St. John says there is a sin unto death, and there is a sin which is not unto death (I John, v. 16), and he also tells us that "all unrighteousness is sin; and there is a sin not unto death." So we are told by the same apostle, that if we confess our sins, God is faithful and just to forgive us (I John, i. 9). Now we must put all these texts together, and give them their full, harmonious, and consistent force. We must carry out the principles laid down to their fair and logical results. Suppose, then, a man speak an idle word, and die suddenly, before he has time to repent and confess his sin, will he be lost everlastingly? Must there not, in the very nature of Christ's system, be a middle state, wherein souls can be purged from their lesser sins?

MALLOCK ON PURGATORY. [1]

[Footnote 1: William Hurrell Mallock, the author of "Is Life Worth Living," from which this extract is given, and of several other recent works, was, at the time when the above was written, as he says himself in his dedication, "an outsider in philosophy, literature, and theology," and not, as might be supposed, a Catholic. It has been positively asserted, and as positively denied, that he has since entered the Church. But it is certain that he has not done so. Mallock is not a Catholic.—COMPILER'S NOTE.]

To those who believe in Purgatory, to pray for the dead is as natural and rational as to pray for the living. Next, as to this doctrine of Purgatory itself—which has so long been a stumbling-block to the whole Protestant world—time goes on, and the view men take of it is changing. It is becoming fast recognized on all sides that it is the only doctrine that can bring a belief in future rewards and punishments into anything like accordance with our notions of what is just or reasonable. So far from its being a superfluous superstition, it is seen to be just what is demanded at once by reason and morality, and a belief in it to be not an intellectual assent, but a partial harmonizing of the whole moral ideal.—W. H. Mattock, "Is Life Worth Living," Page 297.

BOILEAU-DESPREAUX AND PRAYER FOR THE DEAD.

We love to see the truth of our dogmas proclaimed from amid the great assemblies of choice intelligences. Boileau did not hesitate to do homage to the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory on the following solemn occasion:—

On the death of Furetiere, the French Academy deliberated whether they would have a funeral service for him, according to the ancient custom of the establishment. Despreaux, who had taken no part in the expulsion of his former associate, gave expression, when he was no more, to the language of courageous piety. He feared not to express himself in these words: "Gentlemen, there are three things to be considered here—God, the public, and the Academy. As regards God, He will, undoubtedly, be well pleased if you sacrifice your resentment for His sake and offer prayers to Him for the repose of a fellow-member, who has more need of them than others, were it only on account of the animosity he showed towards you. Before the public, it will be a glorious thing for you not to pursue your enemy beyond the grave. And as for the Academy, its moderation will be meritorious, when it answers insults by prayers, and does not deny a Christian the resources offered by the Church for appeasing the anger of God, all the more that, besides the indispensable obligation of praying to God for your enemies, you have made for yourselves a special law to pray for your associates."

ALL SAINTS AND ALL SOULS. [1]

[Footnote 1: New York Tablet, Nov. 12, 1870]

MRS. J. SADLIER.

OF all the sublime truths which it is the pride and happiness of Christians to believe, none is more beautiful, more consoling than that of the Communion of Saints. Do we fully realize the meaning of that particular article of our faith? From their earliest infancy Christian children repeat, at their mother's knee, "I believe in the Communion of Saints;" but it is only when the mind has attained a certain stage of development that they begin to feel the inestimable privilege of being in the Communion of Saints.

But how sad to think that even in later life many of those whose childhood lisped "I believe in the Communion of Saints," neither know, nor care to know, what it means. Outside the Church who believes in the Communion of Saints?—who rejoices in the glory of the glorified, or invokes their intercession with God? Who believes in that state of probation whereby the earth-stains are washed from the souls of men? Who has compassion on "the spirits who are in prison?" To Catholics only is the Communion of Saints a reality, a soul-rejoicing truth. How inestimable is the privilege of being truly and indeed "of the household of faith,"—within and of "the Church of the Saints," the Church that alone connects the life which is and that which is to come, the living and the dead!

Year by year we are reminded of this truth, so solemn and so beautiful, the Communion of Saints, by the double festival of All Saints and All Souls—when the Church invites her children of the Militant Church to rejoice with her on the glory of her Saints, and to pray with her for the holy dead who are still in the purgatorial fire that is to prepare them for that blessed abode into which "nothing defiled can enter."

Grand and joyous is the feast of the Saints, when we lovingly honor all our brethren who have gained their thrones in Heaven, and with faith and hope invoke their powerful aid, that we, too, may come where they are, and be partakers in their eternal blessedness; solemn and sad, but most sweetly soothing to the heart of faith, is the day of All Souls, when the altars are draped in black, and the chant is mournful, and sacrifice is offered, the whole world over, for the dead who have slept in Christ, with the blessing of the Church upon them. For them, if they still have need of succor, are all the good works of the faithful offered up, and the prayers of all the Saints and all the Angels invoked, not only on the second day of November, but on every day of that mournful month.

Thus do we, who are still on earth, honor the glorified Saints of God, and invoke them for ourselves and for the blessed souls who may yet be debarred from the joys of Heaven. And this is truly the Communion of Saints—the Church on earth, the Church in Heaven, the Church in Purgatory, distinct, yet united, the children of one common Father, who is God; of one common Mother, who is Mary, the Virgin ever Blessed.

LEIBNITZ [1]

[Footnote 1: Gottfried Wilhelm von Leibnitz, the eminent Protestant philosopher. The above is from his "Systema Theologicum."]

ON THE MASS AS A PROPITIATORY SACRIFICE.

No new efficacy is superadded to the efficacy of the Passion from this propitiatory Sacrifice, repeated for the remission of sins; but its entire efficacy consists in the representation and application of the first bloody Sacrifice, the fruit of which is the Divine Grace bestowed on all those who, being present at this tremendous sacrifice, worthily celebrate the oblation in unison with the priest. And since, in addition to the remission of eternal punishment, and the gift of the merits of Christ for the hope of eternal life, we further ask of God, for ourselves and others, both living and dead, many other salutary gifts (and amongst those, the chief is the mitigation of that paternal chastisement which is due to every sin, even though the penitent be restored to favor); it is therefore clearly manifest that there is nothing in our entire worship more precious than the sacrifice of this Divine Sacrament, in which the Body of Our Lord itself is present.

EXTRACTS FROM "A TROUBLED HEART."

How often have I been touched at the respect paid the dead in Catholic countries; at the reverence with which the business man, hastening to fulfil the duties of the hour, pauses and lifts his hat as the funeral of the unknown passes him in the street! What pity streams from the eyes of the poor woman who kneels in her humble doorway, and, crossing herself, prays for the repose of the soul that was never known to her in this life; but the body is borne towards the cemetery, and she joins her prayer to the many that are freely offered along the solemn way (pp. 151-2).

* * * * *

So passes the faithful soul to judgment; after which, if not ushered at once into the ineffable glory of the Father, it pauses for a season in the perpetual twilight of that border-land where the spirit is purged of the very memory of sin. Even as Our Lord Himself descended into Limbo; as He died for us, but rose again from the dead and ascended into heaven, so we hope to rise and follow Him,—sustained by the unceasing prayers of the Church, the intercession of the Saints, and all the choirs of the just, who are called on night and day, and also by the prayers and pleadings of those who have loved us, and who are still in the land of the living.

The prayers that ease the pangs of Purgatory, the Requiem, the Miserere, the De Profundis—these are the golden stairs upon which the soul of the redeemed ascends into everlasting joy. Even the Protestant laureate of England has confessed the poetical justice and truth of this, and into the mouth of the dying Arthur—that worthy knight—he puts these words:

"Pray for my soul! More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of; wherefore let thy voice Rise like a fountain for me night and day; For, what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God." [1]

[Footnote 1: These exquisite lines will be found elsewhere in this volume in the full description of King Arthur's death from Tennyson. But they bear repetition.]

O ye gentle spirits that have gone before me, and who are now, I trust, dwelling in the gardens of Paradise, beside the river of life that flows through the midst thereof,—ye whose names I name at the Memorial for the Dead in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass,—as ye look upon the lovely and shining countenances of the elect, and, perchance, upon the beauty of our Heavenly Queen, and upon her Son in glory,—O remember me who am still this side of the Valley of the Shadow, and in the midst of trials and tribulations. And you who have read these pages, written from the heart, after much sorrow and long suffering, though I be still with you in the flesh, or this poor body be gathered to its long home, —you whose eyes are now fixed upon this line, I beseech you,

Pray for me!—Anon.

EUGENIE DE GUERIN AND HER BROTHER MAURICE.

[In Eugenie de Guerin's journal we find the following beautiful words written while her loving heart was still bleeding for the early death of her best-loved brother, Maurice—her twin soul, as she was wont to call him.]

"O PROFUNDITY! O mysteries of that other life that separates us! I who was always so anxious about him, who wanted so much to know everything, wherever he may be now there is an end to that. I follow him into the three abodes; I stop at that of bliss; I pass on to the place of suffering, the gulf of fire. My God, my God, not so! Let not my brother be there, let him not! He is not there. What! his soul, the soul of Maurice, among the reprobate! ... Horrible dread, no! But in Purgatory, perhaps, where one suffers, where one expiates the weaknesses of the heart, the doubts of the soul, the half-inclinations to evil. Perhaps my brother is there, suffering and calling to us in his pangs as he used to do in bodily pain, 'Relieve me, you who love me!' Yes, my friend, by prayer. I am going to pray. I have prayed so much, and always shall. Prayer? Oh, yes, prayers for the dead, they are the dew of Purgatory."

All Souls'—How different this day is from all others, in church, in the soul, without, within. It is impossible to tell all one feels, thinks, sees again, regrets. There is no adequate expression for all this except in prayer.... I have not written here, but to some one to whom I have promised so long as I live, a letter on All Souls'....

O my friend, my brother, Maurice! Maurice! art thou far from me? dost thou hear me? What are they, those abodes that hold thee now? ... Mysteries of another life, how profound, how terrible ye are— sometimes, how sweet!

PASSAGES FROM THE VIA MEDIA.

[Written while Cardinal Newman was still an Anglican]

Now, as to the punishments and satisfactions for sins, the texts to which the minds of the early Christians seem to have been principally drawn, and from which they ventured to argue in behalf of these vague notions, were these two: 'The fire shall try every man's work,' etc., and 'He shall baptize you with the Holy Ghost and with fire.' These passages, with which many more were found to accord, directed their thoughts one way, as making mention of fire, whatever was meant by the word, as the instrument of trial and purification; and that, at some time between the present time and the Judgment, or at the Judgment. As the doctrine, thus suggested by certain striking texts, grew in popularity and definiteness, and verged towards its present Roman form, it seemed a key to many others. Great portions of the books of Psalms, Job, and the Lamentations, which express the feelings of religious men under suffering, would powerfully recommend it by the forcible and most affecting and awful meaning which they received from it. When this was once suggested, all other meanings would seem tame and inadequate.

To these may be added various passages from the prophets, as that in the beginning of the third chapter of Malachi, which speaks of fire as the instrument of purification, when Christ comes to visit His Church.

Moreover, there were other texts of obscure and indeterminate meaning, which seem on this hypothesis to receive a profitable meaning; such as Our Lord's words in the Sermon on the Mount, "Verily, I say unto thee, thou shalt by no means come out thence till thou hast paid the uttermost farthing;" and St. John's expression in the Apocalypse, that, "no man in heaven, nor in earth, neither under the earth, was able to open the book."—Via Media, pp. 174-177.

Most men, to our apprehensions, are too little formed in religious habits either for heaven or for hell; yet there is no middle state when Christ comes in judgment. In consequence, it is obvious to have recourse to the interval before His coming, as a time during which this incompleteness may be remedied, as a season, not of changing the spiritual bent and character of the soul departed, whatever that be, for probation ends with mortal life, but of developing it in a more determinate form, whether of good or evil. Again, when the mind once allows itself to speculate, it will discern in such a provision a means whereby those who, not without true faith at bottom, yet have committed great crimes, or those who have been carried off in youth while still undecided, or who die after a barren, though not immoral or scandalous life, may receive such chastisement as may prepare them for heaven, and render it consistent with God's justice to admit them thither. Again, the inequality of the sufferings of Christians in this life compared one with another, leads the mind to the same speculations; the intense suffering, for instance, which some men undergo on their death-bed, seeming as if but an anticipation in their case of what comes after death upon others, who, without greater claims on God's forbearance, live without chastisement and die easily. The mind will inevitably dwell upon such thoughts, unless it has been taught to subdue them by education or by the fear of the experience of their dangerousness.— Via Media, pp. 174-177.

ALL SOULS.

FROM THE FRENCH.

November is come; and the pleasant verdure that the groves and woods offered to our view in the joyous spring is fast losing its cheerful hue, while its withered remains lie trembling and scattered beneath our feet. The grave and plaintive voice of the consecrated bell sends forth its funereal tones, and, recalling the dead to our pensive souls, implores, for them the pity of the living. Oh! let us hearken to its thrilling call; and may the sanctuary gather us together within its darkened walls, there to invoke our Eternal Father, and breathe forth cherished names in earnest prayer!

When the solemn hour of the last farewell was come for those we loved, and their weakened sight was extinguished forever, it seemed as if our hearts' memory would be eternal, and as if those dear ones would never be forgotten. But time has fled, their memory has grown dim, and other thoughts reign paramount in our forgetful hearts, which barely give them from time to time a pious recollection.

Nevertheless, they loved us, perhaps too well, lavish of a love that Heaven demanded. How devoted was their affection; and shall we now requite it by a cruel forgetfulness? Oh! if they suffer still on our account; if, because of their weakness, they still feel the wrath of God's justice, shall we not pray, when their voices implore our help, when their tears ascend towards us?

Alas! in this life what direful contamination clings to the steps of irresolute mortals! Who has not wavered in the darksome paths into which the straight road so often deviates?

The infinite justice of the God of purity perhaps retains them in the dungeons of death. Alas! for long and long the Haven of eternal life may be closed against them! Oh, let us pray; our voices will open the abode of celestial peace unto the imprisoned soul. The God of consolation gave us prayer, that love might thus become eternal.— The Lamp, Nov. 5, 1864.

AN ANGLICAN BISHOP PRAYING FOR THE DEAD.

Foremost among later Anglican divines in piety, in learning, and in the finer qualities of head and heart, stands the name of Reginald Heber, Bishop of the Establishment, whose gentle memory,—embalmed in several graceful and musical poems, chiefly on religious subjects,—is still revered and cherished by his co-religionists, respected and admired even by those who see in him only the man and the poet—not the religious teacher. I am happy to lay before my readers the following extract from a letter of Bishop Heber, in which that amiable and accomplished prelate expresses his belief in the efficacy of prayers for the departed:

"Few persons, I believe, have lost a beloved object, more particularly by sudden death, without feeling an earnest desire to recommend them in their prayers to God's mercy, and a sort of instinctive impression that such devotions might still be serviceable to them.

* * * * *

"Having been led attentively to consider the question, my own opinion is, on the whole, favorable to the practice, which is, indeed, so natural and so comfortable, that this alone is a presumption that it is neither unpleasing to the Almighty nor unavailing with Him.

"The Jews, so far back as their opinions and practices can be traced since the time of Our Saviour, have uniformly recommended their deceased friends to mercy; and from a passage in the Second Book of Maccabees, it appears that, from whatever source they derived it, they had the same custom before His time. But if this were the case, the practice can hardly be unlawful, or either Christ or His Apostles would, one should think, have, in some of their writings or discourses, condemned it. On the same side it may be observed that the Greek Church, and all the Eastern Churches, pray for the dead; and that we know the practice to have been universal, or nearly so, among the Christians a little more than one hundred and fifty years after Our Saviour. It is spoken of as the usual custom by Tertullian and Epiphanius. Augustine, in his Confessions, has given a beautiful prayer which he himself used for his deceased mother, Monica; and among Protestants, Luther and Dr. Johnson are eminent instances of the same conduct. I have, accordingly, been myself in the habit, for some years, of recommending on some occasions, as, after receiving the sacrament, etc., my lost friends by name to God's goodness and compassion, through His Son, as what can do them no harm, and may, and I hope will, be of service to them."

THE "PURGATORY" OF DANTE.

MARIOTTI.

In the course of his remarks upon the Divina Comedia of Dante, a bitter opponent of the Holy See and of everything Catholic, Mariotti, [1] an apostle of United Italy, expresses his views upon the ancient doctrine of Purgatory. These views are but an instance of how its beauty and truthfulness to nature strike the minds of those who have strayed from the centre of Christian unity.

[Footnote 1: Mariotti, author of "Italy Past and Present," an unscrupulous opponent of the Papacy and of the Church.]

"To say nothing of its greatness and goodness, the poem of Dante," says Mariotti, "is the most curious of books. The register of the past, noting down every incident within the compass of man's nature.... Dante is the annalist, the interpreter, the representative of the Middle Ages.... The ideas of mankind were in those 'dark' ages perpetually revolving upon that 'life beyond life,' which the omnipresent religion of that fanatical age loved to people with appalling phantoms and harrowing terrors. Dante determined to anticipate his final doom, and still, in the flesh, to break through the threshold of eternity, and explore the kingdom of death.... No poet ever struck upon a subject to which every fibre in the heart of his contemporaries more readily responded than Dante. It is not for me to test the soundness of the Roman Catholic doctrine of Purgatory, or to inquire which of the Holy Fathers first dreamt of its existence. It was, however, a sublime contrivance, unscriptural though it may be—a conception full of love and charity, in so far as it seemed to arrest the dead on the threshold of eternity; and making his final welfare partly dependent on the pious exertions of those who were left behind, established a lasting interchange of tender feelings, embalmed the memory of the departed, and by a posthumous tie wedded him to the mourning survivor.... Woe to the man, in Dante's age, who sunk into his grave without bequeathing a heritage of love; on whose sod no refreshing dew of sorrowing affection descended. Lonely as his relics in the sepulchre, his spirit wandered in the dreaded region of probation; alone he was left defenceless, prayerless, friendless to settle his awful score with unmitigated justice. It is this feeling, unrivalled for poetic beauty, that gives color and tone to the second division of Dante's poem. The five or six cantos, at the opening, have all the milk of human nature that entered into the composition of that miscalled saturnine mind. With little more than two words, the poet makes us aware that we have come into happier latitudes. Every strange visitor breathes love and forgiveness. The shade we meet is only charged with tidings of joy to the living, and messages of good will. The heart lightens and brightens at every new stratum of the atmosphere in that rising region; the ascent is easy and light, like the gliding of a boat down the stream. The angels we become familiar with are angels of light, such as human imagination never before nor afterwards conceived. They come from afar across the waves, piloting the barge that conveys the chosen spirits to heaven, balancing themselves on their wide-spread wings, using them as sails, disdaining the aid of all mortal contrivance, and relying on their inexhaustible strength; red and rayless at first, from the distance, as the planet Mars when he appears struggling through the mist of the horizon, but growing brighter and brighter with amazing swiftness. They stand at the gate of Purgatory, they guard the entrance to each of the seven steps of its mountain—some with green vesture, vivid as new-budding leaves, gracefully waving and floating in simple drapery, fanned by their wings; bearing in their hands flaming swords broken at the point; others, ash-colored garments; others again, in flashing armor, but all beaming with so intense, so overwhelming a light, that dizziness overcomes all mortal ken, whenever directed to their countenance. The friends of the poet's youth one by one arrest his march, and engage him in tender converse. The very laws of immutable fate seem for a few moments suspended to allow full scope for the interchange of affectionate sentiments. The overawing consciousness of the place he is in, for a moment forsakes the mortal visitor so miraculously admitted into the world of spirits. He throws his arms round the neck of the beloved shade, and it is only by the smile irradiating its countenance that he is reminded of the intangibility of its ethereal substance. The episodes of "the Purgatory" are mostly of this sad and tender description. The historical personages introduced seem to have lost their own identity, and to have merged into a blessed calmness, characterizing medium of the region they are all travelling through." It is plain that, bitterly hostile as is this faithless Italian to the Church of his fathers, and the truth which it teaches, his poetic instinct, at least, rises above mere prejudice, and enables him to penetrate into that dim but holy atmosphere created by the poet's genius, and yet more fully by the poet's faith. This homage to the union of religious grandeur, natural tenderness, and supernatural fervent charity, which make this doctrine unconsciously dear to every human heart, is of value coming from the pen of so prejudiced a witness. It is but one of countless testimonies that in all times, and in all ages, have sprung from the heart of man, as it were in his own despite.

THE MOUTH OF NOVEMBER. [1]

[Footnote 1: New York Tablet, Nov. 26, 1859.]

MARY E. BLAKE (MARIE).

It is but a few days since the Church has celebrated the triumph of her saints, rejoicing in the eternal felicity of that innumerable throng whom she has given to the celestial Sion. She invites us to share her joy. She bids us look up from the rugged pathway of our thorn-strewn pilgrimage to that blissful abode which is to be the term and the reward of all our trials. Yet, like a true mother, she cannot forget that portion of her family who are sighing for their deliverance, in that region of pain to which they are consigned by eternal justice. On one day she sings with radiant brow and tones of jubilee her Sursum Corda; on the next, she kneels a suppliant, chanting with uplifted hands and tearful eyes her Requiem AEternam; and we, the companions of her exile, shall we not sympathize with every emotion of the heart of our tender Mother?