that we can to deliver them from the flames of Purgatory, or, at least, to soothe their pains…. The fire of Purgatory, as the doctors of the Church declare, is as intense as that of the abode of hell; with this difference, that it has an end. Yea! it may be that to-day a soul in Purgatory is undergoing more agony, more excruciating suffering than a damned soul, which is tormented in hell for a few mortal sins; while the poor soul in Purgatory must satisfy for millions of venial sins.
All the pains which afflict the sick upon earth, added to all that the martyrs have ever suffered, cannot be compared with those in Purgatory, so great is the punishment of those poor souls.
We read, how once a sick person who was very impatient in his sufferings, exclaimed; “O God, take me from this world!” Thereupon the Angel Guardian appeared to him, and told him to remember that, by patiently bearing his afflictions upon his sick-bed, he could satisfy for his sins, and shorten his Purgatory. But the sick man replied that he chose rather to satisfy for his sins in Purgatory. The poor sufferer died; and behold, his Guardian Angel appeared to him again, and asked him if he did not repent of the choice he had made of satisfying for his sins in Purgatory, by tortures, rather than upon earth by afflictions. Thereupon the poor soul asked the angel: “How many years am I now here in these terrible flames?” The Angel replied: “How many years? Thy body upon earth is not yet buried; nay, it is not yet cold and still thou believest already thou art here for many years!” Oh, how that soul lamented upon hearing this. Great indeed was its grief for not having chosen patiently to undergo upon earth the sufferings of sickness, and thereby shorten its Purgatory.
* * * * *
Upon earth, persons who anxiously seek another abode or another state of life, often know not whether, perhaps, they may not fall into a more wretched condition. How many have forsaken the shores of Europe, with the bright hope of a better future awaiting them in America? All has been disappointment! They have repented a thousand times of having deserted their native country. Now does this disappointment await the souls in Purgatory upon their deliverance? Ah! by no means. They _know_ too well that when they are released heaven will be their home. Once there, no more pains, no more fire for them; but the enjoyment of an _everlasting bliss_, which no eye hath seen nor ear heard; nor hath it entered into the heart of man to conceive. Such will be their future happy state. Oh! how great is their desire to be there already. Another circumstance which especially intensifies hope in the breast of man, is _intercourse_–union with those who are near and dear to him.
How many, indeed, have bid a last farewell to Europe, where they would have prospered; but oh, there are awaiting them in another land their beloved ones–those who are so dear, and in whose midst they long to be! Oh, what a great source of desire is not this, for the poor souls in Purgatory to go to heaven! In heaven they shall find again those whom they have loved and cherished upon earth, but who have already preceded them on their way to the heavenly mansion…. There is still another feature, another circumstance which presents itself in the condition of the poor souls in Purgatory: I mean the irresistible force or tendency with which they are drawn towards _God_; their intense longing after Him, their last aim and end…. Oh, with what intense anxiety and longing is not a poor soul in Purgatory consumed, to behold the splendor of its Lord and Creator! But, also! with what marks of _gratitude_ does not every soul whom we have assisted to enter heaven pray for us upon its entrance!
Therefore, let us hasten to the relief of the poor suffering souls in Purgatory. Let us help them to the best of our power, so that they may supplicate for us before the throne of the Most High; that they may remember us when we, too, shall one day be afflicted in that prison house of suffering, and may procure for us a speedy release and an early enjoyment of a blissful eternity.
* * * * *
When it will be your turn one day to dwell in those flames, and be separated from God, how happy will you not be, if others alleviate and shorten your pains! Do you desire this assistance for your own soul? Then begin in this life, while you have time, to render aid to the poor souls in Purgatory…. He who does not assist others, unto him shall no mercy be shown; for this is what even-handed justice requires. Hence, let us not be deaf to the pitiful cries of the departed ones…. What afflicts those poor, helpless souls still more, is the circumstance that, despite their patience in _suffering_, they can earn nothing for heaven. With us, however, such is not the case. We, by our patience under affliction, may merit much, very much indeed, for Paradise…. I well remember a certain sick person who was sorely pressed with great sufferings. Wishing to console him in his distress, I said: “Friend, such severe pains will not last long. You will either recover from your illness and become well and strong again, or God will soon call you to himself.” Thereupon the sick man, turning his eyes upon a crucifix which had been placed for him at the foot of his bed, replied: “Father, I desire no alleviation in my suffering, no relief in my pains. I cheerfully endure all as long as it is God’s good pleasure, but I hope that I now undergo my Purgatory.” Then, stretching forth his hands towards his crucifix he thus addressed it, filled with the most lively hope in God’s mercy: “Is it not so, dear Jesus? Thou wilt only take me from my bed of pain to receive me straightway into heaven!”
* * * * *
We find in the lives of all the saints a most ardent zeal in the cause of these poor afflicted ones. For their relief they offered to God not only prayers, but also Masses, penances, the most severe sicknesses, and the most painful trials, and all this as a recognition and a practical display of the belief which they cherished–that they who have slept in Christ are finally to repose with him in glory…. Because all that we perform for the help and delivery of the poor souls in Purgatory, are works of Christian faith and piety. Such are prayer, the august sacrifice of the Mass, the reception of the holy sacraments, alms-deeds, and acts of penance and self-denial….
Remember, dear Christians, that we, too, shall be poor, helpless, and suffering souls in Purgatory, and what shall we carry with us of all our earthly goods and treasures? Not a single farthing.
* * * * *
We read, in the life of St. Gertrude, that God once allowed her to behold Purgatory. And, lo! she saw a soul that was about issuing from Purgatory, and Christ, who, followed by a band of holy virgins, was approaching, and stretching forth his hands towards it. Thereupon the soul, which was almost out of Purgatory, drew back, and of its own accord sank again into the fire. “What dost thou?” said St. Gertrude to the soul. “Dost thou not see that Christ wishes to release thee from thy terrible abode?” To this the soul replied: “O Gertrude, thou beholdest me not as I am. I am not yet immaculate. There is yet another stain upon me. I will not hasten thus to the arms of Jesus.”
A POPULAR VIEW OF PURGATORY.
REV. J. J. MORIARTY, LL.D.
Purgatory is a state of suffering for such souls as have left this life in the friendship of God, but who are not sufficiently purified to enter the kingdom of heaven–having to undergo some temporal punishment for their lighter sins and imperfections, or for their grievous sins, the eternal guilt of which has been remitted. In other words, we believe that the souls of all who departed this life–not wicked enough to be condemned to hell, nor yet pure enough to enjoy the Beatific Vision of God–are sent to a place of purgation, where, in the crucible of suffering, the lighter stains of their souls are thoroughly removed, and they themselves are gradually prepared to enter the Holy of Holies –where nothing defiled is permitted to approach.
* * * * *
—-There are many venial faults which the majority of persons commit, and for which they have little or no sorrow–sins which do not deprive the soul of God’s friendship, and yet are displeasing to His infinite holiness. For all these we must suffer either in this life or the next. Divine justice weighs everything in a strict balance, and there is no sin that we commit but for which we shall have to make due reparation. Faults which we deem of little or no account the Almighty will not pass unnoticed or unpunished. Our Blessed Saviour warns us that even for “every idle word that man shall say he shall render an account in the day of judgment.”
We know full well that no man will be sent to hell merely for an “idle word,” or for any venial fault he may commit; consequently there must be a place where such sins are punished. If they be not satisfied for here upon earth by suffering, affliction, or voluntary penance, there must be a place in the other life where proper satisfaction is to be made. That place cannot be either heaven or hell. It cannot be heaven, for no sufferings, no pain, no torment is to be found there, where “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes, where death shall be no more, nor mourning nor weeping.” It cannot be hell, where only the souls of those who have died enemies of God are condemned to eternal misery, for “out of hell there is no redemption.”
There must be, then, a Middle Place where lighter faults are cleansed from the soul, and proper satisfaction is rendered for the temporal punishment that still remains due. The punishment of every one will vary according to his desert.
* * * * *
Our Divine Lord warns us to make necessary reparation whilst we have the time and opportunity.
“Make an agreement with thy adversary quickly whilst thou art in the way with him; lest, perhaps, the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Amen I say to thee, thou shalt not go out from thence till thou pay the last farthing.” (St. Matthew, v., 25, 26.)
This expresses the doctrine of Purgatory most admirably. The Scriptures always describe our life as a pilgrimage. We are only on our way. We have to meet the claims of Divine justice here before being called to the tribunal of the everlasting Judge; otherwise, even should we die in His friendship and yet have left these claims not entirely satisfied, we shall be cast into the prison of Purgatory; and “Amen, I say unto thee that thou shalt not go out from thence until thou pay the last farthing.”
* * * * *
Our Saviour declares (St. Matthew, xii. 32,) that “whoever shall speak a word against the Son of Man, it shall be forgiven him; but he that shall speak against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him, either in this life or in the world to come;” which shows, as St. Augustine says in the twenty-first book of his work, “The City of God,” that there are some sins (venial of course) which shall be forgiven in the next world, and that, consequently, there is a middle state, or place of purgation in the other life, since no one can enter heaven having any stain of sin, and surely no one can obtain forgiveness in hell.
The testimony of St. Paul is very clear on this point of doctrine: “For no man can lay another foundation but that which is laid; which is Jesus Christ. Now if any man build on that foundation, gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble: every man’s work shall be made manifest; for the day of the Lord shall declare it, because it shall be revealed by fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work, of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide, which he had built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man’s work burn, he shall suffer loss; _but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire_.”
* * * * *
In the First Epistle of St. Peter (Chap. iii. 18, 19), we learn that Christ “being put to death, indeed, in the flesh, but brought to life by the spirit, in which also He came and preached to those spirits who were in prison.”
Our Blessed Saviour, immediately after death, descended into that part of hell called Limbo, and, as St. Peter informs us, “preached to the spirits who were in prison.” This most certainly shows the existence of a middle state. The spirits to whom our Lord preached were certainly not in the hell of the damned, where His preaching could not possibly bear any fruit; they were not already in heaven, where no preaching is necessary, since there they see God face to face. Therefore they must have been in some middle state–call it by whatever name you please– where they were anxiously awaiting their deliverance at the hands of their Lord and Redeemer.
Belief in Purgatory is more ancient than Christianity itself. It was the belief among the Jews of old, and of this we have clear proof in the Second Book of Machabees, xii., 43. After a great victory gained by that valiant chieftain, Judas Machabeus, about two hundred years before the coming of Christ, “Judas making a gathering, he sent twelve thousand drachmas of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifice to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and justly concerning the resurrection…. It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from their sins.”
It is customary, even in our days, in Jewish synagogues, to erect tablets reminding those present of the lately deceased, in order that they may remember them in their prayers. Surely, if there did not exist a place of purgation, no prayers nor sacrifices would be of any avail to the departed. We find the custom of praying, of offering the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass for their spiritual benefit, more especially on their anniversaries, an universal practice among the primitive Christians of the Eastern and Western Churches, of the Greek, Latin, and Oriental Rites.
Even if we did not find strong warrant, as we do, in the Scriptures, the authority of Apostolic Tradition would be amply sufficient for us; for, remember, we Catholics hold the traditions, handed down from the Apostles, to be of as much weight as their own writings.
… Hence it is that we have recourse to sacred tradition as well as to Scripture for the proof of our teaching. With reference, then, to the doctrine of “Purgatory,” we are guided by the belief that prevailed among the primitive Christians.
That the custom of praying for the dead was sanctioned by the Apostles themselves, we have the declaration of St. John Chrysostom: “It was not in vain instituted by the Apostles that in the celebration of the tremendous mysteries a remembrance should be made of the departed. They knew that much profit and advantage would be thereby derived.”
Tertullian–the most ancient of the Latin Fathers, who flourished in the age immediately following that of the Apostles–speaks of the duty of a widow with regard to her deceased husband: “Wherefore also does she pray for his soul, and begs for him, in the interim, refreshment, and in the first resurrection, companionship, and makes offerings for him on the anniversary day of his falling asleep in the Lord. For unless she has done these things, she has truly repudiated him so far as is in her power.” All this supposes a Purgatory.
“The measure of the pain,” says St. Gregory Nyssa, “is the quantity of evil to be found in each one…. Being either purified during the present life by means of prayer and the pursuit of wisdom, or, after departure from this life, by means of the furnace of the fire of purgatory.”
* * * * *
Not only deeply instructive, but also eminently consoling is the doctrine of Purgatory. We need not “mourn as those who have no hope,” for those nearest and dearest who have gone hence and departed this life in the friendship of God.
How beautifully our Holy Mother the Church bridges over the terrible chasm of the grave! How faithfully and tenderly she comes to our aid in the saddest of our griefs and sorrows! She leaves us not to mourn uncomforted, unsustained. She chides us not for shedding tears over our dear lost ones–a beloved parent, a darling child, a loving brother, affectionate sister, or deeply-cherished friend or spouse. She bids us let our tears flow, for our Saviour wept at the grave of Lazarus.
She whispers words of comfort–not unmeaning words, but words of divine hope and strength–to our breaking hearts. She pours the oil of heavenly consolation into our deepest wounds. She bids us cast off all unseemly grief, assuring us that not even death itself can sever the bond that unites us; that we can be of service to those dear departed ones whom we loved better than life itself; that we can aid them by our prayers and good works, and especially by, the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Thus may we shorten their time of banishment, assuage their pains, and continue to storm Heaven itself with our piteous appeals until the Lord deign to look down in mercy, open their prison doors, and admit them to the full light of His holy presence, and to the everlasting embrace of their Redeemer and their God.
EXTRACTS FROM “CATHOLIC BELIEF.”
VERY REV. FAA DI BRUNO. [1]
[Footnote 1: Catholic Belief, or, A Short and Simple Exposition of Catholic Doctrine, by Very Rev. Joseph Faa Di Bruno. D. D., Rector- General of the Pious Society of Missions of the Church of San Salvatore in Onde, Ponte Sisto, Rome, and St. Peter’s Italian Church in London. American Edition, edited by Father Lambert, author of Notes on Ingersoll, &c.]
As works of penance have no value in themselves except through the merits of Jesus Christ, so the pains of Purgatory have no power in themselves to purify the soul from sin, but only in virtue of Christ’s Redemption, or, to speak more exactly, the souls in Purgatory are able to discharge the debt of temporal punishment demanded by God’s justice, and to have their venial sins remitted only through the merits of Jesus Christ, “yet so as by fire.”
The Catholic belief in Purgatory rests on the authority of the Church and her apostolic traditions recorded in ancient Liturgies, and in the writings of the ancient Fathers: Tertullian, St. Cyprian, Origen, Eusebius of Caesarea, Arnobius, St. Basil, St. Ephrem of Edessa, St. Cyril of Jerusalem, St. Gregory of Nyssa, St. Ambrose, St. Epiphanius, St. John Chrysostom, St. Jerome, St. Augustine. It rests also on the Fourth Council of Carthage, and on many other authorities of antiquity.
That this tradition is derived from the Apostles, St. John Chrysostom plainly testified in a passage quoted at the end of this chapter, in which he speaks of suffrages or help for the departed.
St. Augustine tells us that Arius was the first who dared to teach that it was of no use to offer up prayers and sacrifices for the dead; and this doctrine of Arius he reckoned among heresies. (Book of Heresies, Heresy 53d.)
There are also passages in Holy Scripture from which the Fathers have confirmed the Catholic belief on this point.
St. Paul, in his first epistle to the Corinthians, chap. iii. 11-15, writes: “For other foundations no one can lay, but that which is laid; which is Christ Jesus. Now, if any man build upon this foundation, gold, silver, precious stones, wood, hay, stubble; every man’s work shall be manifest; for the day of the Lord shall declare it, because it shall be revealed in fire; and the fire shall try every man’s work of what sort it is. If any man’s work abide, which he hath built thereupon, he shall receive a reward. If any man’s work burn, he shall suffer loss; but he himself shall be saved, yet so as by fire.”
The ancient Fathers, Origen in the third century, St. Ambrose and St. Jerome in the fourth, and St. Augustine in the fifth, have interpreted this text of St. Paul as relating to venial sins committed by Christians which St. Paul compares to “wood, hay, stubble,” and thus with this text they confirm the Catholic belief in Purgatory, well known and believed in their time, as it is by Catholics in the present time. In St. Matthew (chap. v. 25, 26) we read, “Be at agreement with thy adversary betimes, whilst thou art in the way with him; lest, perhaps, the adversary deliver thee to the judge, and the judge deliver thee to the officer, and thou be cast into prison. Amen, I say to thee, thou shalt not go out from thence till thou repay the last farthing.”
On this passage, St. Cyprian, Bishop of Carthage, a Father of the third century, says: “It is one thing to be cast into prison, and not go out from thence till the last farthing be paid, and another to receive at once the reward of faith and virtue: one thing in punishment of sin to be purified by long-suffering and purged by long fire, and another to have expiated all sins of suffering (in this life); one in fire, at the day of Judgment to wait the sentence of the Lord, another to receive an immediate crown from Him.” (Epist. iii.)
Our Saviour said: “He that shall speak against the Holy Ghost, it shall not be forgiven him in this world, nor in the world to come.” (St. Matt. xii. 32.)
From this text St. Augustine argues, that “It would not have been said with truth that their sin shall not be forgiven, neither in this world, nor in the world to come, unless some sins were remitted in the next world.” (_De Civitate Dei_, Book xxi. chap. 24.)
On the other hand, we read in several places in Holy Scripture that God will render to every one (that is, will reward or punish) according as each deserves. See, for example, in Matthew xvi. 27. But as we cannot think that God will punish everlastingly a person who dies burdened with the guilt of venial sin only, it may be an “_idle word_,” it is reasonable to infer that the punishment rendered to that person in the next world will be only temporary.
The Catholic belief in Purgatory does not clash with the following declarations of Holy Scripture, which every Catholic firmly believes, namely, that it is Jesus who cleanseth us from all sin, that Jesus bore “the iniquity of us all,” that “by His bruises we are healed,” (Isaias iii., 5); for it is through the blood of Jesus and His copious Redemption that those pains of Purgatory have power to cleanse the souls therein detained.
Again, the Catholic belief in Purgatory is not in opposition to those texts of Scripture in which it is said that a man when he is justified is “translated from death to life;” that he is no longer judged: that there is no condemnation in him. For these passages do not refer to souls taken to Heaven when natural death occurs, but to persons in this world, who from the death of sin pass to the life of grace. Nor does it follow that dying in that state of grace, that is, in a state of spiritual life, they must go at once to Heaven. A soul may be justified, entirely exempt from eternal _condemnation_, and yet have something to suffer for a time; thus, also, in this world, many are justified, and yet are not exempt from suffering.
Again, it is not fair to bring forward against the Catholic doctrine on Purgatory that text of the Apocalypse, Rev. xix. 13: “Blessed are the dead, who die in the Lord. From henceforth now, saith the Spirit, that they may rest from their labors: for their works follow them,” for this text applies only to those souls who die perfectly in the Lord, that is, entirely free from every kind of sin, and from the _stain_, the _guilt_, and the _debt of temporal punishment_ of every sin. Catholics believe that these souls have no pain to suffer in Purgatory, as is the case with the martyrs and saints who die in a perfect state of grace.
It is usual to bring forward against the Catholic belief in Purgatory that text which says: “If the tree fall to the south, or to the north, in what place soever it shall fall, there shall it be.” (Eccles. xi. 3.)
This text confirms and illustrates the truth that, when death comes, the _final doom_ of every one is fixed, and that there is no possibility of changing it; so that one dying in a state of mortal sin will always remain in a state of mortal sin, and consequently be rejected forever; and one dying in a state of grace and friendship with God, will forever remain accepted by God and in a state of grace, and in friendship with Him.
But this text proves nothing against the existence of Purgatory; for a soul, although in a state of grace, and destined to heaven, may still have to suffer for a time before being perfectly fit to enter upon the eternal bliss, to enjoy the vision of God.
Some might be disposed, notwithstanding, to regard this text as opposed to the Catholic doctrine of Purgatory by saying that the two places alluded to in the texts are heaven and hell. But this interpretation Catholics readily admit, for at death either heaven or hell is the final place to which all men are allotted, Purgatory being only a passage to heaven. This text surely does not tell against those just ones under the Old Law who died in a state of grace and salvation, and who, though sure of heaven, had yet to wait in a middle state until after the Ascension of Jesus Christ; neither, therefore, does it tell against Purgatory.
Christ’s Redemption is abundant, “_plentiful_” as Holy Scripture, says (Ps. cxxix. 7), and Catholics do not believe that those Christians who die guilty only of _venial the practice of the Catholic Church to offer prayers and other pious works in suffrage for the dead, as is amply testified by the Latin Fathers; for instance, Tertullian, St. Cyprian, St. Augustine, St. Gregory; and amongst the Greek Fathers, by St. Ephrem of Edessa, St. Basil and St. John Chrysostom. St. Chrysostom says: “It was not without good reason ordained by the Apostles that mention should be made of the dead in the tremendous mysteries, because they knew well that, these would receive great benefit from it” (on the First Epistle to Philippians, Homily iii.) By the expression “tremendous mysteries,” is meant the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass.
St. Augustine says: “It is not to be doubted that the dead are aided by the prayers of Holy Church and by the salutary sacrifice, and by the alms which are offered for their spirits, that the Lord may deal with them more mercifully than their sins have deserved. For this, which has been handed down by the Fathers, the universal Church observes.” (_Enchirid_, Vol. v., Ser. 172.)
The same pious custom is proved also from the ancient Liturgies of the Greek and other Eastern Churches, both Catholic and Schismatic, in which the Priest is directed to pray for the repose of the dead during the celebration of the Holy Mysteries.
PURGATORY AND THE FEAST OF ALL SOULS.
ALBAN BUTLER.
By Purgatory no more is meant by Catholics than a middle state of souls; namely of purgation from sin by temporary chastisements, or a punishment of some sin inflicted after death, which is not eternal. As to the place, manner or kind of these sufferings nothing has been defined by the Church; and all who with Dr. Deacon except against this doctrine, on account of the circumstance of a material fire, quarrel about a mere scholastic question, in which a person is at liberty to choose either side…. Certainly some sins are venial, which deserve not eternal death. Yet if not effaced by condign punishment in this world must be punished in the next. The Scriptures frequently mention those venial sins, from which ordinarily the just are not exempt, who certainly would not be just if these lesser sins into which men easily fall by surprise, destroyed grace in them, or if they fell from charity. Yet the smallest sin excludes a soul from heaven so long as it is not blotted out…. Who is there who keeps, so constant a guard upon his heart and whole conduct as to avoid all sensible self-deceptions? Who is there upon whose heart no inordinate attachments steal; into whose actions no sloth, remissness, or other irregularity ever insinuates itself?… The Blessed Virgin was preserved by an extraordinary grace from the least sin in the whole tenor of her life and actions; but, without such a singular privilege, even the saints are obliged to say that they sin daily…. The Church of Christ is composed of three different parts: the Triumphant in Heaven, the Militant on earth, and the Patient or Suffering in Purgatory. Our charity embraces all the members of Christ…. The Communion of Saints which we profess in our Creed, implies a communication of certain good works and offices, and a mutual intercourse among all the members of Christ. This we maintain with the Saints in heaven by thanking and praising God for their triumphs and crowns, imploring their intercession, and receiving the succors of their charitable solicitude for us: likewise with the souls in Purgatory by soliciting the divine mercy in their favor. Nor does it seem to be doubted but they, as they are in a state of grace and charity, pray for us; though the Church never address public suffrages to them, not being warranted by primitive practice and tradition so to do.
… St. Odilo, abbot of Cluni, in 998, instituted the commemoration of all the faithful departed in all the monasteries of his congregation on the 1st of November, which was soon adopted by the whole Western Church. The Council of Oxford, in 1222, declared it a holiday of the second class, on which certain necessary and important kinds of work were allowed. Some dioceses kept it a holiday of precept till noon; only those of Vienne and Tours, and the order of Cluni, the whole day: in most places it is only a day of devotion. The Greeks have long kept on Saturday sevennight before Lent, and on Saturday before Whitsunday, the solemn commemoration of all the faithful departed; but offer up Mass every Saturday for them…. The dignity of these souls most strongly recommends them to our compassion, and at the same time to our veneration. Though they lie at present at a distance from God, buried in frightful dungeons under waves of fire, they belong to the happy number of the elect. They are united to God by His grace; they love Him above all things, and amidst their torments never cease to bless and praise Him, adoring the severity of His justice with perfect resignation and love…. They are illustrious conquerors of the devil, the world and hell; holy spirits loaded with merits and graces, and bearing the precious badge of their dignity and honor by the nuptial robe of the Lamb with which by an indefeasible right they are clothed. Yet they are now in a state of suffering, and endure greater torments than it is possible for any one to suffer, or for our imagination to represent to itself in this mortal life…. St. Caesarius of Aries writes: “A person,” says he, “may say, I am not much concerned how long I remain in Purgatory, provided I may come to eternal life. Let no one reason thus. Purgatory fire will be more dreadful than whatever torments can be seen, imagined, or endured in this world. And how does any one know whether he will stay days, months, or years? He who is afraid now to put his finger into the fire, does he not fear lest he be then all buried in torments for a long time…. The Church approves perpetual anniversaries for the dead; for some souls may be detained in pains to the end of the world, though after the day of judgment no third state can exist…. If we have lost any dear friends in Christ, while we confide in His mercy, and rejoice in their passage from the region of death to that of life, light, and eternal joy, we have reason to fear some lesser stains may retard their bliss. In this uncertainty let us earnestly recommend them to the divine clemency…. Perhaps, the souls of some dear friends may be suffering on our account; perhaps, for their fondness for us, or for sins of which we were the occasion, by scandal, provocation, or otherwise, in which case motives not only of charity, but of justice, call upon us to endeavor to procure them all the relief in our power…. Souls delivered and brought to glory by our endeavors will amply repay our kindness by obtaining divine graces for us. God Himself will be inclined by our charity to show us also mercy, and to shower down upon us His most precious favors. ‘Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy.’ By having shown this mercy to the suffering souls in Purgatory, we shall be particularly entitled to be treated with mercy at our departure hence, and to share more abundantly in the general suffrages of the Church, continually offered for all that have slept in Christ.”
PART II
ANECDOTES AND INCIDENTS.
We know them not, nor hear the sound They make in treading all around:
Their office sweet and mighty prayer Float without echo through the air;
Yet sometimes, in unworldly places, Soft sorrow’s twilight vales,
We meet them with uncovered faces, Outside their golden pales,
Though dim, as they must ever be,
Like ships far-off and out at sea, With the sun upon their sails.–FABER.
THE FRUIT OF A MASS.
The incident we are about to relate and which, in some way, only the price of the first Mass paid for, reminds us of another which seems to be also the fruit of a single Mass given under the inspiration of faith. This fact is found in the life of St. Peter Damian, and we are happy to reproduce it here, in order to tell over again the marvels of God in those He loves, and to make manifest that charity for the poor souls brings ever and always its own reward.
Peter, surnamed Damian, was born in 988, at Ravenna, in Italy. His family was poor, and he was the youngest of several children. He lost his father and mother while still very young, and was taken by one of his brothers to his home. But Damian was treated there in a very inhuman manner. He was regarded rather as a slave, or, at least, as a base menial, than as the brother of the master of the house. He was deprived of the very necessaries of life, and, after being made to work like a hired servant, he was loaded with blows. When he was older, they gave him charge of the swine.
Nevertheless, Peter Damian, being endowed with rare virtue, received all with patience as coming from God. This sweet resignation on the part of a child was most pleasing to the Lord, and He rewarded him by inspiring him to a good action.
One day the little Damian, leading his flocks to the pasture, found on the way a small piece of money. Oh! how rejoiced he was! How his heart swelled within him!
He clapped his hands joyfully, thinking himself quite rich, and already he began to calculate all he could do with his money. Suggestions were not wanting, for he was in need of everything.
Nevertheless, the noble child took time to reflect; a sudden shadow fell on the fair heaven of his happy thoughts. He all at once remembered that his father, his poor mother who had so loved him, might be still suffering cruel torments in the place of expiation. And despising his own great necessities, and generously making the sacrifice of what was for him a treasure, Damian, raised above himself and his wants by the thought of his beloved parents, brought his money to a priest, to have the Holy Sacrifice offered for them.
That generous child had obeyed a holy inspiration, and this good deed of his was quickly rewarded. Fortune suddenly changed with him. He was taken by another of his brothers, who took all possible care of him. Seeing that the child had such excellent dispositions, he made him begin to study. He sent him first to Florence, then to a famous school in Parma, where he had for his master the celebrated Ivo. The brilliant qualities of Damian were rapidly developed, and soon he became professor where he had been a pupil. He afterwards gave up the world and became a religious, and was, in course of time, not only a remarkable man, but a great saint. He was charged by the Holy See with affairs the most important, and died clothed in the Roman purple. He is still a great light in the Church, and his writings are always full of piety and erudition.
The little Damian, then, might well think that he possessed a treasure in his little coin, since with it he purchased earthly honors and heavenly bliss. We all of us have often had in our hand Damian’s little piece of money, but have we known how to make a treasure of it? _Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory_, 1877.
THE FAITH OF A PIOUS LADY.
“In the course of the month of July of last year,” said a zealous member of our Association for the Souls in Purgatory, “I was accosted by one of our associates who told me, with an exuberance of joy, ‘Ah! we have great reason to thank the souls in Purgatory; I beg you to unite with us in thanking them for the favor they have just done us.’ ‘Indeed? Well! I am very happy to hear it. Has anything extraordinary happened to you? Tell me, if you please, what seems to cause you so much joy?’
“Then our fervent associate–a young man of a mild and pleasing aspect, usually somewhat reserved, but of gentlemanly bearing–said, in a tone of deep emotion:
“‘I am rejoiced to tell you, in the first place, that I have the happiness of still having my good mother. God seems to leave her on the earth to complete the work of her purification, for she is always sick and suffering, and, as she says herself, there is neither rest nor peace for her here below; nevertheless, she resigns herself so patiently to the sufferings and tribulations which weigh so heavily upon her that it does me a twofold good every time I see her, for I love her as my mother, I venerate her as a saint.
“‘One day, then, last week, finding herself a little stronger, she thought she would take a short drive, being in the country for her health. The drive seemed really to do her good; the beauty of the country, and still more, the fresh, pure air, appeared to revive her, and altogether she enjoyed her drive immensely. Her heart, as well as her mind, was changed, for you know there is often a sickness of the head, as of the body. She already began to flatter herself with the hope of a speedy recovery, when, in the midst of the drive which was having so beneficial an effect, the horse, from some unknown cause, suddenly took fright, and, taking the bit between his teeth, started off at a fearful pace.
“‘Imagine the terror of my poor mother! On either side the road was a broad, deep ditch, and the rough, uneven soil caused the carriage to jolt fearfully, which was another great danger; and, as it so often happens in the country, the road was deserted, and no one to be seen who might give any assistance.
“‘To crown all, it happened that the servant who drove my mother, in his efforts to restrain the horse in his headlong flight, had the misfortune to break the reins, which were their only chance of guiding the animal in his mad career.
“‘Ah! how can I describe the feelings of my poor dear mother, already so sick and so feeble; in fact, she was almost dead with fright. She thought every moment that she was going to be thrown into the ditch, or dashed against the stake paling which bordered the road on either side. She was nearly in despair, when all at once the thought occurred to her to promise a Mass for the Souls in Purgatory, if the horse stopped.
“‘And what do you think?–Ah! I am still so agitated myself, that I can hardly tell it!–But, wonderful to relate, that horse, in the wild excitement of his flight, without so much as a thread to restrain him, who could not have been stopped by any natural cause whatsoever,–that horse stopped immediately, and one might say, suddenly, as though a barrier were placed before him!
“‘It were utterly impossible to express my mother’s joy and gratitude. Her life will henceforth be but one long act of thanksgiving; for, without that unlooked-for help it had certainly been all over with her. Oh, I beseech you help me to thank Heaven for so great a favor.'”
This example will serve to show still more clearly that God is pleased to manifest His power, even for the slightest service rendered to those whom He deigns to call His “Beloved” of Purgatory.–_Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory_. 1877.
PAY WHAT THOU OWEST.
When the fathers of the Society of Jesus first established their order in Kentucky, a wealthy and respected Catholic citizen of Bardstown, Mr. S—-, sought admission among them,–although his age and lack of a thorough preparatory education offered obstacles to his success. He entered the Novitiate, only to be convinced that it was too late for him to become a priest, as had been prudently represented to him at the outset. However, his love for the Society had been strengthened by his short stay in the sanctuary of the community, and he resolved to devote himself to the service of the Fathers in another way. He determined to secure a suitable residence, and found a college, which, as soon as it was in a flourishing condition, he would turn over to the Society.
With this object in view, Mr. S—- made diligent inquiries, and advertised in various county newspapers for a suitable residence in which to begin his good work. One of his advertisements received a prompt reply from the executors of an estate in C—- County. The property offered for sale was unencumbered, its broad lands under high cultivation, the mansion in good repair, etc. Accompanied by a friend, Mr. S—- hastened to visit the plantation. He found one wing of the house occupied by the overseer and his family, and observed with pleasure that the advertisement seemed not to have exaggerated the value of the estate.
Mr. S—- and his friend tarried over night, and were assigned separate apartments, which the administrators had ordered to be kept in readiness for the reception of prospective purchasers. Although greatly fatigued by a long ride on horseback over ill-kept roads, neither of the gentlemen could sleep, on account of a wearisome, incessant knocking in an adjoining room. Each believing the other to be sound asleep, forbore to awake his tired companion, but when they met at an early breakfast, they both, as in one breath, inquired of the farmer’s wife the cause of the continuous tapping in the adjoining apartment. Mrs. F—- exchanged a significant glance with her husband, and a sort of grim smile overspread the face of the latter. After a moment’s hesitation, he declared that he and his wife, and the servants on the estate, had in vain tried to find out the cause. All who slept in those two rooms heard the noise, and could not sleep. Both husband and wife assured their guests that the knocking took place in the apartment always occupied, during her lifetime, by Mrs. G—-, the late owner of the estate; furthermore, that the disturbance was unknown before her death. Mr. S—- and his companion naturally became more and more interested, and after suggesting all the ordinary causes of unusual and mysterious knocks, such as rats, cats, chipmunks, creaking doors, broken shutters, and the like, rode off with Mr. F—- to make a thorough examination of the estate.
The two gentlemen rode all over the plantation, conferred with the executors and some lawyers, and after inspecting the house thoroughly, sat down to a dinner that was highly creditable to the hostess, who seemed anxious concerning the disclosures of the morning. When night came on, the visitors were shown to the same rooms they had previously occupied. In the morning each spoke again of his inability to get any refreshing sleep, and as they rode back to B—-, talking over dreams, visions, and other supernatural occurrences, they asked themselves, might not this knocking have a supernatural cause? Concluding it might have, they considered it would be well to lay the case before the Rev. Father Q—-; at least, they could go, and tell him of their journey into C—- County, and also of the mysterious knocking, if it seemed to come in naturally; for each felt a little dread of being laughed at as too credulous. In the course of their conversation with the Father, the full details of what they had learned and had personally experienced were related. Father Q—- seemed to consider the occurrence quite easily accounted for by some physical cause; but when the gentlemen recalled to his attention the circumstance of Mrs. G—-‘s death, he appeared to take another view of the matter.
Finally, it was decided that Father Q—- and a brother priest should accompany Mr. S—- and his friend to the plantation, for a personal investigation. Soon after their arrival at the mansion the priests, preceded by the servants of the family, Mr. and Mrs. F—-, and the two visitors, repaired to the mysterious chamber. When a little Holy Water had been sprinkled about the room, there was a cessation of the knocking, and after reciting some prayers, Father Q—- inquired, in Latin, of whatever spirit might be there the cause of the disturbance. He was distinctly answered in the same tongue that the soul of Mrs. G—- could not rest in peace, because of an uncancelled debt to the shoemaker, Mr. —-. The interlocutor was assured that the matter should be attended to at once. Thereupon the knocking re-commenced and continued.
All were painfully surprised, but thanked God that it would be so easy a matter to settle the debt. The Rosary was then recited by the assembly, most of whom had supposed that the priests were present to bless the house. Without delay, Mr. S. and Father Q—- repaired to the shop of the village shoemaker, and begged him to present any bill that he might have against the estate of the late Mrs. G—-. The shoemaker said that he did not believe there was anything due to him, for payments had always been made very punctually. However, he ran over his account-book, and declared that he found nothing. In sorrowful surprise, the two friends then took their departure, telling the shoe dealer that if, at any time, he should find aught against the property, to inform them without delay.
On his return home, the shoemaker related to his mother what had happened in the shop. After reflection, she asked if he had looked over his father’s accounts. “Certainly not,” he said. She then remarked that the request was only half complied with, for Mrs. G—- had long been his father’s customer. After dinner, they repaired to the attic, and, searching out the old ledgers, went over them carefully. To their surprise they found a bill of twelve dollars and a half, for a pair of white satin slippers (probably Mrs. G—-‘s wedding shoes), which, in the midst of various affairs, had remained unsettled. A messenger was sent with all speed to the mansion. On the way he chanced to meet Father Q—- and Mr. S—-. The bill, with interest, was paid on the spot, and, returning to the house, they learned from the astonished and delighted tenants that the rappings had suddenly and entirely ceased.
Shortly after, Mr. S—- became the owner of the estate, the heirs of which, preferring to live in Europe, had permitted its sale, in order to divide and enjoy the proceeds. As Mr. S—- had planned, a college was there founded, and before long it was under the control of the Society of his aspirations and his enthusiastic love.–_Ave Maria_, Nov. 15, 1884.
THE VIA CRUCIS
In November, 1849, Prince Charles Loewenstein Wertheim Rosenberg died. A lady who filled a subordinate office in his family as governess, communicated to the author the incidents which follow. At the prince’s deathbed, which she was permitted to visit, she made a vow to say certain prayers daily for the repose of his soul, in accordance with a wish which he had expressed. When the family was residing at the castle of Henbach on the Maine, it was this lady’s habit to spend a short time every evening in the private chapel. After one of those visits, about three months after the prince’s death, she retired to rest, and in the course of the night had a singular dream. She was in the chapel, kneeling in a tribune; opposite to her was the high altar. She had spent some time in prayer, when suddenly, on the steps of the altar, she saw the tall figure of the deceased prince, kneeling with great apparent devotion. Presently he turned towards her, and in his usual manner of addressing her, said: “Dear child, come down to me here in the chapel; I want to speak to you.” She replied that she would gladly, but that the doors were all locked. He assured her that they were all open. She went down to him, taking her candle with her. When she came near him, the prince rose to meet her, took her hand, and, without speaking, led her to the altar, and they both knelt down together. They prayed for some time in silence, then he rose once more, and standing at the foot of the altar, said: “Tell my children, my dear child, that their prayers and yours are heard. Tell them that God has accepted the _Via Crucis_ [1] which they have daily made for me, and your prayers also. I am with God in His glory, and I will pray for all those who have so faithfully prayed for me.” As he spoke, his face seemed lighted up as with the glory usually painted round the head of a saint. With a farewell look he vanished, and she awoke.
[Footnote 1: Way of the Cross, more commonly called the Stations of the Cross.]
At breakfast she appeared agitated. She sat beside the prince’s granddaughter, Princess Adelaide Loewenstein, afterwards married to Don Miguel of Portugal. This lady asked her what was the matter. She related her dream, and then begged to know what prayers the princesses had offered for the repose of his Highnesses’ soul. They were the _Via Crucis_.–_Footsteps of Spirits_. [1]
[Footnote 1: Published by Burns & Lambert of London.]
STRANGE INCIDENTS.
When the Benedictine College at Ampleforth, in Yorkshire, was building, a few years ago, one of the masons attracted the attention of the community by the interest which he took in the incidents of their daily life. He had to walk from a village three miles off, so as to be at the college every morning by six o’clock. He was first much pleased with the regularity of the community, whom he always found in the church, singing the Hours before Mass, on his arrival in the morning. By degrees he was taught the whole of the Catholic doctrine, and was received into the Church. None of his family, however, would follow his example. Exposure to cold and wet brought on an illness, of which he died, in a very pious manner. A short time after his death, his wife was one morning sweeping about the open door of her house, when her husband walked in, and sat down on a seat by the fire, and began to ask her how she did. She answered that she was well, and hoped he was happy where he was. He replied that he was, at that time; that, at first, he had passed through Purgatory, and had undergone a brief purification; but that, when this was ended, he had been taken to the enjoyment of the bliss of God in heaven. He remained talking to her some little time longer, then he bade her farewell, and disappeared.
The woman applied to a Catholic priest for instruction; and it was found that, although she had never in her life read a Catholic book, nor conversed about the Catholic religion with any one, she had acquired a complete knowledge of the doctrine of Purgatory from that short interview with her husband. She, too, became a Catholic. The author was told this story by one who was a member of the community of Ampleforth at the time.
A missionary priest at B—- (in England), a very few years ago, promised to say Mass for a woman in his congregation who had died. Among other engagements of the same kind, he unconsciously overlooked her claim upon him. By and by her husband came to him, and begged him to remember his promise. The missionary thought that he had already done so. “Oh! no, sir,” the man replied; “I can assure you that you have not; my poor wife has been to me to tell me so, and to get you to do this act of charity for her.” The priest was satisfied of his omission, and immediately supplied it. Soon after, the poor man returned to thank him, at the woman’s desire. She had told her husband that now she was perfectly happy in heaven; her face, which had appeared much disfigured at her first visit, was surrounded with a halo of light when she came again. This anecdote reached the author through a common friend of his own and of the missionary.
A similar anecdote is told of a nun in the English convent of Bruges, between thirty and forty years ago. A relation of Canon Schmidt had died in the house, and Miss L—-, another nun, much attached to her, saw her friend one night in a dream. She seemed to come with a serious countenance, and pointed to the Office for the Dead in an office-book, which she appeared to hold in her hand. Her friend was much perplexed, and consulted Miss N—-, a third nun, who suggested that perhaps Miss L—- had not said the Office three times, as usual, for her deceased sister. Miss L—- was nearly sure that she had; but as she had a habit of marking off this obligation as it was discharged, it could be easily ascertained. On examining her private note-book, it turned out that she had not said the three Offices. Miss N—-‘s sister, who was educated in the same convent, told the author this little story, and afterwards was good enough to revise his narrative of it. So that this account is virtually her own. Though seeming to have passed through two channels on its way to this book, that is, through the author’s memory and his friend’s, yet having, submitted to the latter a written memorandum of the narrative, and received and adopted his friend’s corrections, the story is as authentic as if it had passed through only one intermediate channel. For there is no doubt that the value of a story diminishes rapidly with every additional hand through which it passes.– _Footsteps of Spirits_, 113-14.
A TRUE STORY OF THE “DE PROFUNDIS.”
One evening in the month of July, 184–, a happy group were gathered in the wide porch of a well-known mansion in Prince George’s County, Maryland. A little Catholic church had been recently built in the village of L—- by the zealous and wealthy proprietor of “Monticello,” and as the means of the newly-formed congregation were too limited to support a resident pastor, one of the Reverend Fathers from Georgetown kindly came out once a fortnight to celebrate Mass and administer the Sacraments. On the eve of the favored Sunday, Doctor J—- took his carriage to the railway station and brought back the Reverend Father named for that week’s services; and his visit was always looked for with delight by all the household at Monticello, domestics and children, but by none so much as by three recent converts to our holy faith, who often took occasion to propound to their amiable and learned guest any doubts on religious questions that had arisen during the course of the intervening weeks.
On the evening above mentioned, the priest who came was an Italian Jesuit, the Reverend Father G—-. He held his little audience entranced with a fund of edifying stories and interesting replies to the questions asked. The calm serenity of the night, the gentle, refreshing breeze that came from a neighboring wood of pine-trees, the beautiful glitter of the flitting glow-worm, and the rich perfume wafted from the purple magnolia _grandiflora_–all added to the enchantment. The doctor broke the charm by saying: “Reverend Father, we shall be obliged to leave early to-morrow morning. The carriage will be ready for you at 6 o’clock.”
“Is it a long drive to the church?” asked Father G—-.
“No; only four miles,” answered the doctor; “but there will be many confessions to hear and, perhaps, some baptisms to administer; hence, unless the work is begun early, Mass will not be over before 12 o’clock.”
“I hope, then,” replied the Father, smiling, “that you will not fail to awake betimes.”
“As to that,” rejoined the doctor, “when I have to arise at any particular time, I recite a _De Profundis_ for the relief of the suffering souls, and I am sure of awaking promptly at he right hour.”
“I can easily credit that,” said Father G—-.
“It is a pious practice which was recommended to me by the late Dr. Ryder, of Georgetown, when I was at the College,” said the host; “and I have never found that any one to whom I taught the practice failed to find it truly efficacious.”
“If it would not detain you too long beyond your customary hours,” said Father G—-, “I would add to my long list of anecdotes one more on the _De Profundis_.”
All present besought the priest to favor them; in truth, the worthy household never wearied of pious conversation.
“It happened,” began the good priest, with religious modesty, “that about twenty years ago I accompanied a number of prominent members of our Society who had been summoned to the Mother House, in Rome, on business of importance. The Fathers carried with them precious documents from their several provinces; and, besides the purse necessary to meet their current travelling expenses, certain contributions from churches as Peter’s Pence, and donations for the General of the Society. Our way lay across the Apennines, and we were numerous enough to fill a large coach. We knew that the fastnesses of the mountains were infested by outlawed bands, and we had been careful to select an honest driver. Before setting out, it was agreed that we should place ourselves under the protection of the Holy Souls by reciting a _De Profundis_ every hour. At a given signal, mental or vocal prayer, reading or recreation, would be suspended, and the psalm recited in unison.
“Luigi, the driver, had been instructed, in case of any apparent danger, to make three distinct taps on the roof of our vehicle with the heavy end of his whip. We travelled the whole day undisturbed, without other interruptions than those called for by the observance of our itinerary. Just as the evening twilight began, we reached the summit of a lofty mountain. The air was cool, the scenery wild and majestic, and each of us seemed absorbed in the pleasant glimpses of the receding landscapes, when we were startled by three ominous knocks on the roof of our coach. Before we could ask any questions, Luigi had given his horses such blows as nearly made them throw us out of the vehicle, and sent the animals running at a break-neck speed. We looked, we listened, and, to our amazement and horror, beheld about a dozen bandits on either side of the road, with arms uplifted, and holding deadly weapons, as if ready and determined to strike with well-aimed precision. But, strange to say, they all remained as motionless as statues, until we had gone on so far as to leave them a mere speck on the descending horizon.
“Each one of our party had kept exterior silence, but inwardly put his trust in the Most High. At last, Luigi halted. His horses were white with foam, and panting as if they would never breathe naturally again.
“A miracle!” cried Luigi, signing himself with the mystic Sign; “may God and Our Lady be praised! I tell you, Fathers, it is a miracle that we are not dead men!” “‘Indeed, a very special protection of Divine Providence said the superior _pro tem_.; ‘and we must all thank God with our whole hearts.’
“‘I tell you,’ broke in Luigi, ‘those were horrible men; I never saw any look fiercer.’
“‘Then, as soon as your horses are able, we had better move on. Shall you be obliged to change them before we get to our proposed stopping- place?’ asked the superior.
“‘Oh, we must not stop to change! we should be tracked by some of their spies. We had better go on; and, as the road descends gently, I think this team will make the remainder of the route.’
“‘Well,’ said our superior, as we re-entered the coach, ‘we must all offer a Mass in thanksgiving to-morrow;’ to which we all heartily assented, and found subject for conversation the rest of the way in recalling the particulars of our wondrous escape.
“Holy obedience afterwards stationed me,” continued the Reverend Father, “at the Gesu. About two years later, I was called upon to instruct a prisoner condemned to capital punishment. ‘He appears to have been a desperate man,’ said the jailer, as he drew aside the enormous bolts of iron that held fast the door of a corridor leading to a dismal dungeon; ‘now, however, he is a little subdued; he even seems contrite at times, and I hope he will die penitent.’
“I visited the prisoner several times; he was always glad to see me, but it cost him a great effort to open his heart, and make a full confession. His birth and parentage, and advantages for a liberal education, should have brought him to a widely-different destiny. He had loved adventure naturally, but had taken a wrong direction. He might have become a famous military man, whereas he was only a rough, desperate highwayman. To win him to God, I began to listen to narratives of his wild brigand exploits. I affected to be interested in these daring adventures, and then succeeded in pointing out to him the sin that abounded in each and every act. One day, as he was speaking of the latest years of his life, I was greatly surprised to hear him recount the identical incident with which I began my story. He described to me in the most graphic terms the wonderful manner in which his hands and those of his comrades had been held by an invisible, irresistible power, saying that they had returned to their mountain haunts perfectly dismayed; that some of them appeared to have a vague and conscientious alarm, though revelry and song soon banished such misgivings. He told me that they knew the carriage was full of Jesuit priests, and that they had been promised a great pecuniary reward by a prominent member of the Freemason Society if they should succeed in seizing our luggage.
“I then made known to my penitent my share in that providential escape; he at once fell on his knees, wept long and bitterly, and finally asked my forgiveness. I prepared him for his dreadful end, and believe he died at peace with God, so great is the mercy of Jesus to the contrite soul, ‘even though his sins be as scarlet.’ I asked his permission to narrate the particulars of his portion of the story, and he gladly gave it, hoping to merit something for his sin-burdened soul by that act of humility.”
We were all much impressed by the Reverend Father’s narrative, and as we bade one another good-night, the doctor remarked that a kind deed performed for others was sure to merit a blessing in return, even though it were so small a favor as that gained by his favorite practice of saying the _De Profundis_.
“Yes,” said Father G—-, “charity never fails.”–_Ave Maria_, Nov. 24th, 1883.
CONFIDENCE REWARDED.
The following fact took place in Montreal, Canada, some three or four years since. We shall leave the zealous member of our association who related it to us to tell his own story:
“One morning,” said he, “coming back from Mass, I saw Mr. C—-, who was also coming out of the church. He was a worthy man, fearing God and fulfilling his duties faithfully and conscientiously. I said to myself: ‘There is a man who deserves to belong to our association.’ For is it not always a favor when God deems us worthy to do something for Him?
“I approached and asked him if he would not like to become a member of our association. ‘What association?’ ‘The Association of the Way of the Cross and Masses. It is to relieve the dead by prayer and alms, two powerful means.’ ‘Ah! I knew nothing of it. What has to be done?’ ‘It suffices to make the Way of the Cross once a week and pay for a Mass once a month.’ ‘I love the souls in Purgatory,’ he said, ‘and I do all I can to relieve them. But, you see, things are not going well with me just now. I have been a long time sick, and am hardly able yet to discharge my ordinary duties.’
“At these words I cast my eyes on the speaker, and saw what I had not before noticed, that he looked pale and worn. He went on: ‘As for paying anything, it would be impossible for me to do it; I have contracted debts, and if my ill health should continue,’ he added, in a faltering voice, ‘I shall be obliged to sell my little house.’ Then he stopped, his heart evidently full, and tears in his eyes. ‘But Providence watches over you, and nothing happens without God’s good leave. If a single hair of our head cannot fall unless He will it, what have you to fear? Do something for God whilst you can. If you are liberal to Him, He will be more so towards you. Do you remember the promise Our Lord made to St. Gertrude? ‘I will give an hundred-fold,’ said He, ‘for all thou shalt do for my beloved ones in Purgatory.’ This promise was not for St. Gertrude alone; it was likewise for you. For one dollar that you give, you will gain ten; and if you are resolved to help the poor souls all you can, they will get you health to do it.’ ‘Ah! what you say touches me much, and truly I know not what to do.’ After a moment’s hesitation, he quickly resumed: ‘Well, sir, although I am actually in distress, I am going to try; it may be the best means of getting out of it.’ ‘Yes, try; we run no risk when we make the Holy Souls our debtors.’
“At these words, he drew from his pocket a small purse which contained only half a dollar. ‘There is all my wealth, and I am happy to share it with you,’ and he gave me the stipend for a Mass. ‘I will perhaps put myself to some inconvenience in giving you that sum, trifling though it be; but, blessed be God! I will bear with the inconvenience, thinking that those who suffer much more than I will obtain some relief in their cruel torments. I will also pray for them, and that they may obtain for me the resignation which is so pleasing to God.’
“When I saw the noble sentiments of this man, I shook him by the hand, warmly thanked him, and reminded him that God was always touched by such acts, and that He knew how to reward them.
“From that moment, strange to say, that frail, delicate man began to recover his strength, work came back to his shop, and everything grew brighter around him. And, as an additional reward from Heaven, he was animated by a new zeal for the Holy Souls, for he not only paid his own little contribution regularly, but he also collected the money for as many Masses as he could on one side and another.
“Six or seven months thus passed away amid ever increasing prosperity, when one day he said to me in presence of several persons: ‘Last autumn, before I gave my name to the Association for the Souls in Purgatory, I was so sick and so discouraged that I thought I should die; but when I had paid for my first Mass, from that moment, as all may see, my health began to return, and with it my courage. To-day, as you see, I am perfectly well. Moreover, I have found means to pay off one hundred and fifty dollars of debt, and to have fifty dollars’ worth of repairs made to my little house. How has all that been done? I know not: for you will admit that, by a poor shoemaker such as I, who works at his bench and without even an apprentice, after such a hard winter, and without any advance before me, to find means, despite all that, to provide for the support of his family and pay two hundred dollars over and above, is something extraordinary.
“‘But I know well to whom I owe it all; hence,’ he added, with a smile, ‘that has given me new zeal. Now, I work not only for myself; every evening I go out collecting for our good Souls in Purgatory, and, blessed be God! I have got one hundred and fifty dollars for the Association of Masses. Have I not, sir?’ he added, addressing the treasurer, who was present.
“‘Yes, you have, indeed, collected one hundred and fifty dollars, perhaps something more, by twenty-five cents here and twenty-five cents there, with a perseverance and a zeal beyond all praise, and well deserving of the favors you have received.’
“‘Ah!’ said this worthy man, so admirable in his simplicity and the fervor of his conviction, ‘it is that I still desire something; I now expect that they will make me better,’ and he sighed.
“Thus was this good man rewarded for his confidence in the Souls in Purgatory, and such was his gratitude to them.”–_Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory, 1877_.
ANECDOTE OF THE “DE PROFUNDIS.”
I once heard an anecdote of a good priest who was in the habit of saying the De Profundis every day for the Souls in Purgatory, but, happening one day to omit it, either through inadvertence or press of occupation, he was passing through a cemetery about the close of day, when he suddenly heard, through the hushed silence of the lonely place and the solemn evening’s hour, a mournful voice repeating the first words of the beautiful psalm–_De Profundis clamavit Domini_–then it stopped, but the priest, as soon as he had recovered from the first shock, and remembering with bitter self-reproach his omission, took up the words where the supernatural voice had left off, and finished the recitation of the _De Profundis_, resolving, as he did so, that, for the time to come, nothing should prevent him from reciting it every day, and more than once in the day, for the benefit of the dear suffering Souls.
A STRANGE OCCURRENCE IN A PERSIAN PRISON.
There is a very strange story concerning Purgatory related by St. John the Almoner, Patriarch of Alexandria, in the end of the sixth and the beginning of the seventh century. A little before a great mortality which took place in that city, several inhabitants of the Island of Cyprus were carried off to Persia and cast into a prison so severe that it was called the _Oblivion_. Some of them, however, succeeded in making their escape and returned to their own country. A father and mother, whose son had been carried off with the others, asked them for tidings of their son. “Alas!” said they, “your son died on such a day; we ourselves had the sad consolation of giving him burial.” The poor parents hastened then to have a solemn service performed for the repose of his soul; this they had done three times every year, continuing in prayer for the same intention. But, marvellous to relate! one day this son, so much regretted, so fondly remembered, came knocking at their door and threw himself into their arms. He had been supposed dead for four years, yet was really alive, he whom the other prisoners had buried having had a great resemblance to him, that is all. “How! is it really thou, dear son? Oh! how we mourned for thee! Three times every year we had a solemn service for thee.” “On what days?” eagerly demanded the son. “On the holy days of Christmas, Easter, and Pentecost.” “Precisely!” he exclaimed; “on those very days I saw, each time, an officer radiant with light, who came to me and taking off my chains, opened the doors of my prison. I went forth into the city, walked wherever I wished, without any one appearing to notice me; only, in the evening, I always found myself miraculously chained in my dungeon. It was the fruit of your good prayers, and if I had been in Purgatory, they would have served at the same time to relieve me; I beseech you not to forget me when the good God shall see fit to call me to Himself.”–_Leontius, Life of St. John the Almoner._
A SWISS PROTESTANT CONVERTED BY THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY.
I have somewhere read, says a Catholic writer, that a Swiss Protestant was converted to the true religion solely on account of our having the consoling doctrine of Purgatory, whereas Protestants will not admit of it. He was a Lutheran somewhat advanced in age, and he had a brother who passed for a worthy man, as the world goes, but had also the misfortune of being a Protestant. He fell sick, and notwithstanding the care of several physicians, died, and was buried by a Protestant minister of Berne. His death was a terrible blow to the brother of whom I speak. Hoping to dissipate his grief he tried travelling, but the thought of his brother’s eternal destiny pursued him everywhere. He one day, on board a steamer, made the acquaintance of a Catholic priest, with whom he entered into conversation. Confidence was soon established between them; they spoke of death, and the afflicted traveller asked the priest what he thought of it. “What I think is this,” replied the priest: “When a man has perfectly discharged all his duties to God, his neighbor and himself, he goes straight to heaven; if he have not discharged them, or have neglected any of those which are essential, he goes straight to hell; but if he have only to reproach himself with those trifling faults which are inseparable from our frail nature, he spends some time in Purgatory.” At these words the listener smiled with evident relief and satisfaction; he felt consoled. “Sir,” cried he, “I will become a Catholic, and for this reason: Protestants only admit of heaven and hell; but, in order to get to Paradise, one must have nothing wherewith to reproach himself. Now, although my brother was a good man, he was by no means free from those slight faults of which you spoke just now. He will not be damned for these faults, but they will prevent him from going to heaven; there must, therefore, be an intermediate place wherein to expiate them; hence, there must be a Purgatory. I will be a Catholic, so as to have the consolation of praying for my brother.”–_The Catechism in Examples_, pp. 141-2.
THE DEAD HAND.
SISTER TERESA MARGARET GESTA was struck by apoplexy on the 4th of November, 1859, without any premonitory symptoms to forewarn her of her danger; and, without recovering consciousness, she breathed her last at four o’clock in the afternoon of the same day. Her companions were plunged into the deepest sorrow, for the Sister was a general favorite; but they resigned themselves to the will of God. Whilst lamenting the death of one who had been to them a model, comforter, and mother, they consoled themselves by the remembrance of the virtues of which she was a splendid example, and of which they never tired speaking.
Twelve days had passed since her death. Some of the Sisters felt a certain kind of dread of going alone to the places frequented by the departed one; but Sister Anna Felix Menghini, a person of a lively and pleasant disposition, often rallied them, good-humoredly, on their fears.
About ten o’clock in the forenoon, this same Sister Anna, having charge of the clothing, was proceeding to the work-room. Having gone up- stairs, she heard a mournful voice, which at first she thought might be that of a cat shut up in the clothes-press. She opened and examined it carefully, but found nothing. A sudden and unaccountable feeling of terror came over her, and she cried out: “Jesus, Mary, what can it be?” She had hardly uttered these words when she heard the same mournful voice as at first, which exclaimed in a gasping sob: “O my God, how I suffer!” The religious, though surprised and trembling, recognized distinctly the voice of Sister Teresa; she plucked up courage and asked her “Why?”
“On account of poverty,” answered the voice.
“What!” replied Sister Anna, “and you were so poor!”
“Not for me,” was answered, “but for the nuns…. If one is enough, why two? and if two are sufficient, why three?… And you–beware for yourself.”
At the same time the whole room was darkened by a thick smoke, and the shadow of Sister Teresa, moving towards the exit, went up the steps, talking as it moved. Sister Anna was so frightened that she could not make out what the spirit said. Having reached the door, the apparition spoke again: “This is a mercy of God!” And in proof of the reality, with its open hand it struck the upper panel of the door near the frame, leaving the impression of the hand more perfect than it could have been made by the most skillful artist with a hot iron.
Sister Anna was like Balthasar: “Then was the King’s countenance changed, and his thoughts troubled him; and the joints of his loins were loosed, and his knees struck one against the other.” (Dan., v. 6). She could not stir for a considerable time; she did not even dare to turn her head. But at last she tottered out and called one of her companions, who, hearing her feeble, broken words, ran to her with another Sister; and presently the whole community was gathered round in alarm. They learned in a confused manner what had taken place, perceived the smell of burnt wood, and noticed a whitish cloud or mist that filled the room and made it almost dark. They examined the door carefully though tremblingly, and recognized the fac-simile of Sister Teresa’s hand; and, filled with terror, they fled to the choir.
There the Sisters, forgetting the need of food and rest, remained in prayer till after sunset, abandoning everything in their anxiety to procure relief for their beloved Sister Teresa. The zealous Minorite Fathers, who have the spiritual direction of the convent, learning what had happened, were equally earnest in offering prayers and sacrifice, and in singing the psalms for the dead. Many of the faithful likewise assembling, not through idle curiosity, but out of genuine piety, joined in the recitation of the Rosary and other prayers, though the deceased Sister was almost entirely unknown to the people. Her observance of the rule was very strict, and she scrupulously avoided all intercourse with people outside her convent. But still large numbers crowded to join in those devotions for her.
Sister Anna, who was more worn out by excitement than the other religious, was directed to retire early the following night. She herself confesses that she was fully resolved next day to remove, at any cost, the obnoxious marks of the hand. But Sister Teresa appeared to her in a dream, saying: “You intend to remove the sign which I have left. Know that it is not in your power to do so, even with the aid of others; for it is there by the command of God, for the instruction of the people. By His just and inexorable judgment I was condemned to the dreadful fires of Purgatory for forty years on account of my condescension to the will of some of the nuns. I thank you and those who joined in so many prayers to the Lord for me; all of which He was pleased in His mercy to accept as suffrages for me, and especially the Seven Penitential Psalms, which were such a relief!” And then, with a smiling countenance, she added: “Oh! blessed rags, that are rewarded with such rich garments! Oh! happy poverty, that brings such glory to those who truly observe it! Alas! how many suffer irreparable loss, and are in torments, because, under the cloak of necessity, poverty is known and valued by few!”
Finally, Sister Anna, lying down as usual on the night of the 19th, heard her name distinctly pronounced by Sister Teresa. She awoke, all in a tremor, and sat up, unable to answer. Her astonishment was great when, near the foot of the bed, she saw a globe of light that made the cell as bright as noonday, and she heard the spirit say in a joyful voice: “On the day of the Passion I died (on Friday), and on the day of the Passion I go to glory…. Strength in the Cross!… Courage to suffer!…” Then, saying three times “Adieu!” the globe was transformed into a thin, white, shining cloud, rose towards heaven, and disappeared.
The zealous Bishop of the diocese having heard of these events, instituted the process of examination on the 23d of the same month. The grave was opened in presence of a large number of persons assembled for the occasion; the impression of the hand on the door was compared with the hand of the dead, and both were found to correspond exactly. The door itself was set apart in a safe place and guarded. Many persons being anxious to see the impression, it was allowed to be visited, after a certain lapse of time, and with due precautions, by such as had secured the necessary permission.–_Ave Maria_, Nov. 17, 1883.
A BEAUTIFUL EXAMPLE.
The following fact is related by the Treasurer of the Association for the Souls in Purgatory. He himself was personally cognizant of the circumstances of the case. We leave him to speak:
“Mr.—-,” said he, “was one of our first and most fervent associates. His devotedness for good works is well known, so that he is everywhere regarded as an acquisition in all pious enterprises. His exemplary conduct rendered him, moreover, one of the most precious auxiliaries of the work. Hence his zeal, instead of slackening, did but go on increasing; and whereas, in the beginning, his collection amounted only to some dollars, after a while he often brought me forty or fifty dollars for the suffering souls. May Heaven bless that fervent associate, and may his example serve as a lesson to the indifferent!
“During eighteen months, or two years, this pious and zealous member brought me every six months,–with other moneys,–the sum of fifteen dollars which was thus periodically sent him; and each time that I asked him whence this money came, he answered that he knew nothing of it himself; that it was sent him by a worthy man without further information, and so he brought it to me without asking, or knowing anything more.
“Desirous of getting to the bottom of this mystery, I resolved to try and find out what it meant. I, one day, asked Mr.—-. to tell me the name of this generous protector of the poor souls, for I was going to hunt him up.–‘Oh!’ said he, ‘it is Such-a-one; he lives a long way off, towards Hochelaga, [1] but, indeed, I cannot tell you the exact place.’
[Footnote 1: A suburban town or village of Montreal, situated, like the city, on the banks of the St. Lawrence.]
“Such vague information embarrassed me no little. I, nevertheless, took the City Directory, but, alas! there were fully twenty-five persons of the same name. Resolved, however, to put an end to this uncertainty, I proceeded, with the little information I had, to the place indicated to me; I arrive at a house bearing the name of the new benefactor of our work. I go in at a venture; it was a little shoe-store, scarcely fifteen feet square, somewhat gloomy and not over-clean, owing, probably, to the nature of the business carried on there; the whole appearance of the place was, indeed, very unlike one where much money could be made. Going in, I perceived sitting in the farther end of the store, a man whose face was so expressive of goodness, so open and so calm, that only a good conscience could leave so gracious an imprint on the features, and I said to myself: ‘That is he.’–Then I asked aloud: ‘You are Mr. Such-a-one?’–That is my name,’ he answered, with a pleasant smile.–‘But is it you who has sent us every six months for two years, the sum of fifteen dollars,–thirty dollars a year,–for the Souls in Purgatory, apart from your regular contribution?’–‘Yes,’ said he, quietly, and still with the same smile on his lips.–‘Ah!’ said I, ‘we are very grateful to you, and the Holy Souls will surely be mindful of you. I suppose you have a great compassion for those poor souls who suffer so much, and that that inspires you with zeal, and so you make up this sum amongst your friends and neighbors;–or they, perhaps, bring it to your house, quarter by quarter, as is done elsewhere?’–‘No!’ said he, still very quietly, ‘no, it is my own little share.’–‘How! your own little share?’ and instinctively I cast a glance around the little store, which seemed hardly to justify the giving of such a sum. ‘How! your little share? but we find it a very large and generous one, and we are happy that your zeal and charity make it seem to you so small. Heaven will bless you for it. Still there must be something hidden under these gifts, so often repeated; the Holy Souls must have done you some favor. Please tell me, then, what induces you to give so handsome a sum every year, without being asked?’
“‘Well, I will not conceal from you that the Souls in Purgatory have visibly protected me; and to make known to you, in a few words, all my little history, I must tell you that, two or three years ago, I heard people speak so favorably of the Association for the Souls in Purgatory–I heard so much about it, indeed, that from that day forward, I placed all my little business under the care of the Suffering Souls, and ever since, I am happy to tell you, to the credit of those holy Souls, that my affairs go, as if they were on wheels!” (These are his own words.) “I give my thirty-three dollars a year without any injury to myself; on the contrary, all goes the better for it. My store is not much to look at, but it is well filled, and all that is in it is my own. Apart from that, and what is still better, I have not a penny of debt.’
“He then added, in a lower tone: ‘I have, moreover, the happiness of honoring in that way the thirty-three years of labors and sufferings which Our Divine Lord spent on earth. That thought does my poor heart good.
“‘Ah, sir,’ said he, with an impulse of true faith which made my heart thrill–‘Ah, sir, if men believed more, they would do wonders, and the word of Our Lord never fails, and He has said that the more one gives the more they receive, for charity never makes any one poor; only we must give without distrust, and without speculation.’
“I warmly shook hands with this admirable man, and returned home as charmed with my visit as delighted with so much faith. Then I said to myself: ‘There is a fine example to follow. How many others might have no debts, if they knew how to make sacrifices for the dear Suffering Souls!'”_–Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory, 1877_
HOW TO PAY ONE’S DEBTS.
Speaking just now of that generous man who had no debts, we called to mind an example that teaches a pretty way of paying debts. We are about to furnish the receipt, so that no one may complain, giving to each the chance of making use of it. In divulging this secret we shall certainly pass for the least selfish man in the world; for, to furnish every one with the means of paying their debts, is it not to procure for each the opportunity of enriching himself? But, dear reader, laying aside all thanks, hasten only to profit by the receipt, and we shall, each of us, have obtained our object.
We take this secret from the Chronicles of the good Friars Minors, an authority to which no one can take exception.
The Blessed Berthold belonged to the great Franciscan family. His fine talents and rare virtues had caused him to be appointed a preacher of the Order. The Sovereign Pontiff, seeing all the good that Berthold was destined to do by his eloquent sermons, had given him power to grant to each of his hearers, an indulgence of ten days; which was a great privilege for the faithful, as well as a mark of esteem and distinction for himself.
Friar Berthold, then, had preached a most moving sermon on alms-giving, and had granted the ten days’ indulgence to all who were present. Amongst the audience was a lady of quality who, owing to a reverse of fortune, was in great distress and loaded with debt. She had hitherto been content to suffer in silence, being prevented by a false shame from making her condition known; but overcome by the enthusiastic charity of the good father, she went privately to him to explain how she was situated, giving him thus an opportunity of putting in practice what he had so eloquently preached. But Friar Berthold, who, like his father St. Francis, had chosen poverty for his lady and mistress, could not come to her relief. Nevertheless, as poverty, in the man who suffers and endures it voluntarily for the love of God, becomes strength and even riches, Berthold, strong in his sacrifice and rich in his poverty–Berthold, inspired by the Holy Ghost, repeated to her what Peter of old, inspired by God, said to the lame man at the gate of the Temple who had asked him for alms: “Silver and gold have I none, but that which I have I will give unto thee.” He then assured the lady that she had gained ten days’ indulgence by being present at his preaching, and he added: “Go to such a banker in the city. Hitherto he has busied himself much more about temporal riches than spiritual treasures, but offer him in return for the donation he will give you, to make over to him the merit of this indulgence, so that the pains awaiting him in Purgatory may be diminished. I have every reason to think,” continued the good Father, “that he will give you some assistance.”
The poor woman, full of that faith which is so powerful, went as she was told, in all simplicity. God touched the heart of the rich man, who received her kindly. He asked her how much she expected to receive in exchange for her ten days’ indulgence. Feeling herself animated by an interior strength, she replied: “As much as it weighs in the balance.” –“Well!” said the banker, “here is the balance. Write down your ten days’ indulgence, and put the paper in one scale; I will place a piece of money in the other.” O prodigy! the scale with the paper in it does not rise, but the other does. The banker, much amazed, puts in another piece of money, but the weight is not changed; he puts in another, then another; but the result is still the same, the paper on which the indulgence is written is still the heaviest. The Banker puts down then five, ten, thirty pieces, till there was as much as the whole amount which the lady required for her present needs. Then only did the two scales become equal.
The banker, struck with astonishment, saw in this marvel a precious lesson for him; he was at length made sensible of the value of the things of heaven.
The poor Souls understand it still better, as, for the slightest earthly indulgence they would give all the gold in the world.
You, then, who have no money to give for the Souls in Purgatory–you, too, who have financial difficulties on your shoulders, offer up indulgences for the poor Souls, and they will make themselves your bankers; they will pay you double, nay, a hundred-fold for whatever you have put in the scale of the balance of mercy. They will pay you not only in spiritual treasures, but even in temporal wealth, which will procure for you the double advantage of paying your debts here below, and those of the other world.–_Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory_, 1877.
FAITH REWARDED.
“One day, in the month of July,” relates a zelator of the Association, [1] “I met one of our members. He was a man of an amiable disposition, and remarkable for his piety and his devotion to good works. He was a merchant of good standing, engaged in a respectable business. Like many others, however, he had seen bad days; and to the commonplace question, ‘How goes business?’ he replied: ‘Ah! badly enough; I can hardly pay expenses, and I am doubly unfortunate. I had a house which brought me in two or three hundred dollars a year, and I have had the misfortune of being unable to rent it this year, so that, losing on all sides, I find myself a good deal embarrassed.’–‘Will you allow me,’ said I, ‘to give you a little advice? Promise some Masses for the Souls in Purgatory in case you have the good fortune to rent your house. It will be, as it were, the tithe of your rent. We too often forget that we owe to Our Lord a part of what He gives us so freely. It is, nevertheless, only an offering that we make Him of His own goods; and, at the same time, an act of gratitude for that He has deigned to give it to us. Furthermore, it is an act of homage, an acknowledgment of His supremacy. And we shall derive the more profit from it according as we do it with a good heart. Besides all that, you have the additional happiness of assisting your relatives and friends who are suffering in the flames of Purgatory.’
[Footnote 1: For the Relief of the Souls in Purgatory.]
“This little exhortation seemed to strike him to whom it was addressed, and, as if awaking from a long lethargy, he suddenly said: ‘Why did I not think of that before? I promise,’ added he, ‘five dollars for the Souls in Purgatory, if I find a tenant.’
“This eagerness to do good, this species of regret for not having done it sooner, this pious disposition which makes us desire to relieve those who are in affliction, must have been very pleasing to God, for, within the week, the gentleman came to me with his five dollars, and said, smiling: ‘I lose no time, you see, in keeping my promise.’–‘Why, have you already rented your house?’–‘Yes, a manufacturer from the country who had just had the misfortune of being burned out, saw my house by chance, came to ask my terms, and we agreed at once. He is to take possession next week.’
“A week passed, even a month, then two, and no tenant, when I happened again to meet my friend, whom I almost suspected of having forgotten his promise. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘I am worse off than ever, and I was so sure of having rented my house.’–‘ How! did that person not come back, then?’–‘ No, and I thought him such an honest man! The disappointment has been a great loss to me.’–‘Write to him, then, threatening to make him responsible for the whole rent. But, better than that, wait still, and have confidence; the Holy Souls cannot fail to bring the matter to a favorable issue. It is, perhaps, a want of faith on your part which has delayed the fulfillment of the contract.’
“Three days had scarcely passed when I again saw our Associate. ‘This time,’ said he, ‘I come to pay; my tenant has arrived.’–‘But he has made you lose five or six weeks’ rent.’–‘Not so; he is, just as I thought, an honorable, upright man. He arrived two days ago. It was I that hired your house,’ said he, ‘and I come to take possession of it.’–‘Mr.—-,’ said I, ‘I am very glad, but I expected you sooner.’– ‘It is true I was to have come before now, but was prevented from doing so by important business. How long is it since I rented your house?’– ‘Just nine weeks.’–‘It is only right, then, that I should pay you for the time I have made you lose;’ then handing me a sum of money, ‘there,’ said he, ‘is the amount coming to you; and now, my family arrive to-morrow, so we take possession at once of your house, and your rent shall be paid regularly.’
“So there is an end to my anxiety, and you cannot believe how happy I am in bringing you the trifling sum I promised; but while keeping my promise, I thank you very sincerely for the confidence wherewith you inspired me in the Holy Souls. May God bless you for it!”–_Almanac of the Souls in Purgatory_, 1881.
APPARITION OF A CITIZEN OF ARIES.
LECOYER, in his “Tales of Ghosts and Apparitions,” [1] relates a historical occurrence which had great publicity. In the reign of King Charles IV. of France, surnamed the Fair, the last king of the first branch of the Capets, who died in 1323, the soul of a citizen, some years dead and abandoned by his relations, who neglected to pray for him, appeared suddenly in the public square at Aries, relating marvellous things of the other world, and asking for help. Those who had seen him in his lifetime at once recognized him. The Prior of the Jacobins, a man of saintly life, being told of this apparition, hastened to go and see the soul. Supposing at first that it might be a spirit that had taken the form of this citizen, he took, with lighted tapers, a consecrated host, which he held out to it. But the soul immediately showed that it was really there itself, for it prostrated itself and adored Our Lord, asking naught else but prayers which might deliver it from Purgatory, to the end that it might enter purified into heaven.
[Footnote 1: “Histoires des Spectres et des Apparitions.”]
THE COUNTESS OF STRAFFORD.
The Countess of Strafford, before her conversion to the Catholic faith, went often to see Monseigneur de la Mothe, Bishop of Amiens, and her conversations with him always made the deepest impression on her mind. But what touched her more than all was a sermon which he preached on the feast of St. John the Baptist, in the chapel of the Ursulines in Amiens. After hearing this discourse, she felt within her a lively desire to believe as did the preacher who had so much edified her. She still had some doubts, however, on the Sacrifice of the Mass and Purgatory. She went to propose them to the holy Bishop, who, without disputing with her or openly attacking her prejudices, deemed it his duty to speak thus to her, in order to undeceive her: “Madam, you know the Bishop of London and have confidence in him? Well, I beg you to ask him what I am going to tell you: The Bishop of Amiens has told me a thing that surprised me; he says that if you can deny that St. Augustine said Mass and prayed for the dead, and particularly for his mother, he himself will become a Protestant.” This advice was followed. The Bishop of London made no reply, but contented himself with saying to the bearer of the letter that Lady Strafford had been breathing a contagious atmosphere which had carried her away, and that anything he could write to her would probably not remedy the evil. This silence on the part of a man whom she had trusted implicitly, finished opening the eyes of Lady Strafford, and she soon after made her abjuration at the hands of the Bishop of Amiens.–_Vie de Monsgr. de la Mothe._
THE MARQUIS BE CIVRAC. _(From une Commune Vendeenne.)_
The belief that the living friends may be of use to their friends in the grave, has in it I know not what instructive and natural which one meets in hearts the most simple and unsophisticated. A pious peasant woman of La Vendee kneeling on the coffin of her good master, the Marquis de Civrac, cried out: “O my God, repay to him all the good he has done to us!” Does not this fervent cry of grateful affection signify: “My God, some rays are perchance wanting in the crown of our benefactor; supply them, we beseech Thee, in consideration of our prayer and all he has done for us?” and this is precisely the consoling doctrine of Purgatory.
GRATITUDE OF THE HOLY SOULS.
[Rev. James Mumford, S.J., born in England in 1605, and who labored for forty years for the cause of the Catholic Church in his native country, wrote a remarkable work on Purgatory; and he mentions that the following incident was written to him by William Freysson, a publisher, of Cologne. May it move many in their difficulties to have recourse to the Holy Souls.]
One festival day, when my place of business was closed, I was occupying myself in reading a book which you had lent me, and which was on “The Souls in Purgatory.” I was absorbed in my subject when a messenger came and told me that my youngest child, aged four years, showed the first symptoms of a very grave disease. The child rapidly grew worse, and the physicians at length declared that there was no hope. The thought then occurred to me that perhaps I could save my child by making a vow to assist the Suffering Souls in Purgatory. I accordingly repaired at once to a chapel, and, with all fervor, supplicated God to have pity on me; and I vowed I would distribute gratuitously a hundred copies of the book that had moved me in behalf of the suffering souls, and give them to ecclesiastics and to religious to increase devotion to the Holy Souls. I had, I acknowledge, hardly any hope. As soon as I returned to the house I found the child much better. He asked for food, although for several days he had not been able to swallow anything but liquids. The next day he was perfectly well, got up, went out for a walk, and ate as if he had never had anything the matter with him. Filled with gratitude, I was only anxious to fulfill my promise. I went to the College of the Jesuit Fathers and begged them to accept as many copies of the work as they pleased, and to distribute them amongst themselves and other communities and ecclesiastics as they thought fit, so that the suffering souls, my benefactors, should be assisted by further prayers.
Three weeks had not slipped away, however, when another accident not less serious befell me. My wife, on entering the house one day, was suddenly seized with a trembling in all her limbs, which threw her to the ground, and she remained insensible. Little by little the illness increased, until she was deprived of the power of speech. Remedies seemed to be in vain. The malady at length assumed such aggravated proportions that every one was of opinion she had no chance of recovery. The priest who assisted her had already addressed words of consolation to me, exhorting me to Christian resignation. I turned again with confidence to the souls in Purgatory, who had assisted me once before, and I went to the same church. There, prostrate before the Blessed Sacrament, I renewed my supplication with all the ardor with which affection for my family inspired me. “O my God!” I exclaimed, “Thy mercy is not exhausted: in the name of Thy infinite bounty, do not permit that the recovery of my son should be paid by the death of his mother.” I made a vow this time, to distribute two hundred copies of the holy book, in order that a greater number of persons might be moved to intercede for the suffering souls. I besought those who had already been delivered from Purgatory to unite with me on this occasion. After this prayer, as I was returning to the house, I saw my servants running towards me. They told me with delight that my wife had undergone a great change for the better; that the delirium had ceased, and she had recovered her power of speech. I at once ran on to assure myself of the fact: all was true. Very soon my wife was so perfectly recovered that she came with me into the holy place to make an act of thanksgiving to God for all His mercies.–_Ave Maria_.
A STRANGE INCIDENT.
A young German lady of rank, still alive to tell the story, arriving with her friends at one of the most noted hotels in Paris, an apartment of unusual magnificence on the first floor was apportioned to her use. After retiring to rest she lay awake a long while, contemplating, by the dim light of a night-lamp, the costly ornaments in the room, when suddenly the folding-doors opposite the bed, which she had locked, were thrown open, and, amid a flood of unearthly light, there entered a young man in the garb of the French navy, having his hair dressed in the peculiar mode _a la Titus_. Taking a chair and placing it in the middle of the room, he sat down, and drew from his pocket a pistol of an uncommon make, which he deliberately put to his forehead, fired, and fell back as if dead. At the moment of the explosion the room became dark and still, and a low voice said softly: “Say an _Ave Maria_ for his soul.”
The young lady, though not insensible, became paralyzed with horror, and remained in a kind of cataleptic trance, fully conscious, but unable to move or speak, until, at nine o’clock next day, no answer having been given to repeated calls of her maid, the doors were forced open. At the same moment the power of speech returned, and the poor young lady shrieked out to her attendants that a man had shot himself in the night, and was lying dead on the floor. Nothing, however, was to be seen, and they concluded that she was suffering from the effects of a dream. Not being a Catholic, she could not, of course, understand the meaning of the mysterious command.
A short time afterwards, however, the proprietor of the hotel informed a gentleman of the party that the terrible scene witnessed by the young lady had in reality been enacted only three nights previously in that very room, when a young French officer put an end to his life with a pistol of a peculiar description, which, together with the body, was then lying at the Morgue awaiting identification. The gentleman examined them both, and found them to correspond exactly with the description of the man and the pistol seen in the apparition.
Whether the young officer was insane, or lived long enough to repent of his crime, is not known; however, the then Archbishop of Paris, Monseigneur Sibour, was exceedingly impressed by the incident. He called upon the young lady, and directing her attention to the words spoken by the mysterious voice, urged her to embrace the Catholic faith, to whose teaching it pointed so clearly.–_Ave Maria_, August 15, 1885.
PART III.
HISTORICAL
All the ages, every clime
Strike the silver harp of time,
Chant the endless, holy story,
Souls retained in Purgatory.
Freed by Mass and holy rite,
Requiem, dirge and wondrous might, A prayer which hut and palace send,
Where king and serf, where lord and hireling blend. The vast cathedral and the village shrine Unite in mercy’s choral strain divine.
HISTORICAL.
THE DOCTRINE OF PURGATORY, OR A MIDDLE STATE, AMONG THE PAGAN NATIONS OF ANTIQUITY.
BY THE REV. A. A LAMBING, A.M.
[This very interesting article was originally published in the “Ave Maria.”]
The attentive student of the mythology of the nations of antiquity cannot fail to discover many vestiges of a primitive revelation of some of the principal truths of religion, although in the lapse of time they have been so distorted and mingled with fiction that it requires careful study to sift the few remaining grains of truth from the great mass of superstition and error in which they are all but lost. Among these truths may be reckoned monotheism, or the belief in, and the worship of, one only God, which the learned Jesuit, the Rev. Aug. Thebaud, in his “Gentilism,” has proved to have been the primitive belief of all nations. It may not, however, be so generally known that the doctrine of Purgatory, or a future state of purification, was also held and taught in all the religious systems in the beginning. While a knowledge of this fact cannot add anything to the grounds of our faith as Catholics, it will not be wholly without interest, and it will, besides, better enable us to give a reason for the faith that is in us. It was left to Martin Luther to found an ephemeral religious system that should deny this dogma, founded no less on revelation than on right reason; but, then, logic has never been one of the strong points of Protestants.
Before turning my attention to the nations of the pagan world, I shall briefly give the Jewish belief on this point. It may not generally be known that the doctrine of a middle state is not explicitly proposed to the belief of the Jews in any of the writings of the Old Testament, although it was firmly held by the people. We depend for our knowledge of this fact mainly on the celebrated passage of the Second Book of Machabees (xii. 43-46). The occasion on which the doctrine was stated was this: Some of the soldiers of Judas Machabeus, the leader of the Jewish armies, fell in a certain battle; and when their fellow-soldiers came to bury them, they discovered secreted in the folds of their garments some parts of the spoils of one of the pagan shrines, which it was not permitted them to keep. After praying devoutly, the sacred writer goes on to say that Judas, “Making a gathering, sent twelve thousand drachms of silver to Jerusalem for sacrifices to be offered for the sins of the dead, thinking well and religiously concerning the resurrection [for if he had not hoped that they who were slain should rise again, it would have seemed superfluous and vain to pray for the dead]. And because he considered that they who had fallen asleep with godliness had great grace laid up for them. It is, therefore, a holy and wholesome thought to pray for the dead, that they may be loosed from sins.”
The Catholic doctrine is thus briefly laid down in the Catechism: “Purgatory is a place of punishment in the other life where some souls suffer for a time before they can go to heaven;” or, in the words of the Catechism of the Council of Trent, there is “the fire of Purgatory, in which the souls of just men are cleansed by a temporary punishment in order to be admitted into their eternal country, ‘into which nothing defiled entereth.'”
How far the pagan notions of a middle state harmonize with the Christian doctrine the reader will be able to determine as we proceed.
I must premise by stating that almost all, if not all, the forms of paganism were two-fold, containing a popular form of religion, believed and practiced by the mass of the people, and a more recondite form that was known only to the initiated, whether this was the priestly caste, as was generally the case, or whether they were designated by some other name. It should also be observed that the forms of religion were constantly undergoing changes of greater or less importance. Nor must we lose sight of the fact that different nations embodied the same idea under different terms. The conception of the phlegmatic Norseman would be different from that of the imaginative Oriental, and the language of the refined Greek would be far other than that of the rude American savage. But yet the same truth may be found to underlie all, the outward garb alone differing.
Turning first to Egypt, which is, rightly or wrongly, commonly considered the cradle of civilization, we may sum up its teaching with regard to the lot of the dead, and the middle state, in these interesting remarks of a learned author: “The continuance of the soul after its death, its judgment in another world, and its sentence according to its deserts, either to happiness or suffering, were undoubted parts both of the popular and of the more recondite religion. It was the universal belief that immediately after death the soul descended into a lower world, and was conducted to the Hall of Truth (or, ‘of the Two Truths’), where it was judged in the presence of Osiris and the forty-two demons, the ‘Lords of Truth’ and judges of the dead. Anubis, ‘the director of the weight,’ brought forth a pair of scales, and, placing on one scale a figure or emblem of Truth, set on the other a vase containing the good actions of the deceased; Thoth standing by the while, with a tablet in his hand, whereon to record the result. According to the side on which the balance inclined, Osiris delivered the sentence. If the good deeds preponderated, the blessed soul was allowed to enter the ‘boat of the sun,’ and was conducted by good spirits to Aahlu (Elysium), to the ‘pools of peace,’ and the dwelling place of Osiris…. The good soul, having first been freed from its infirmities by passing through the basin of purgatorial fire, guarded by the four ape-faced genii, and then made the companion of Osiris three thousand years, returned from Amenti, re-entered its former body, rose from the dead, and lived once more a human life upon earth. This process was reiterated until a certain mystic cycle of years became complete, when finally the good and blessed attained the crowning joy of union with God, being absorbed into the Divine Essence, and thus attaining the true end and full perfection of their being.” [1]
[Footnote 1: “History of Ancient Egypt,” George Rawlinson, Vol. I., pp. 327-329.]
It may be remarked that all systems of religion which held the doctrine of metempsychosis, or the transmigration of souls, should be considered as believing in a middle state of purgation, since they maintained the necessity of the soul’s further purification, after death, before it was permitted to enter into its final rest.
In the ever-varying phases through which Buddhism, the religion of all South-eastern Asia, has passed in its protracted existence, it is difficult to determine with any degree of certainty, precisely what its disciples hold; but the belief in metempsychosis, which is one of its fundamental doctrines, must permit us to range it on the side of those who hold to the idea of a middle state. Certain it is, they believe that the soul, by a series of new births, becomes, in process of time, better fitted for the final state in which it is destined for ever to remain. The same may be said of the religion of the great body of the