incident, without exception, is divinely hidden from our view; and happy had it been for the Church, and happy for the world, if this inspired silence had never been broken in upon by any unauthentic voice, for we should then have possessed the unencumbered outlines of a wondrous life, which in its lowliness and trustfulness, and silent, musing thoughtfulness, might well have served as a pattern to all believers. Mary, the woman sorrowful and pure, our hearts delight in; but "Mary, the goddess," our inmost souls abhor. Hence, beyond all others who have ever lived, this gentle Hebrew maiden has been most foully wronged by the unbridled fancy of those who call themselves her clients; and the saddest chapters in the story of her life are those which commence precisely where the Scripture narrative allwisely closes.

In the "Glories of Mary we are informed that, on the evening of the crucifixion, the sisters of the Virgin covered her with a mourning cloak and veiled her as a widow; for now deprived both of her husband and Son, she was a widow indeed; and that, though she continued to live with the parents of St. John in their house near the Mount of Olives, constrained by an everdeepening love, she spent most of her time in visiting those parts of the Holy Land most intimately associated with the life and labours of her Son at one time the stable at Bethlehem; at another the workshop at Nazareth; now the Garden of Gethsemane; then the Prætorium of Pilate; but most frequently the Mount of Calvary and the Holy Sepulchre.†

To her there is thus given the credit of introducing into the Christian Church the pernicious practice of * Page 460. "Glories of Mary." P. 378.

*

religious pilgrimages; a practice which so long ago as the fourth century was attended by such appalling abuses that Jerome and Gregory persistently discouraged it. For the same suggestive reason Pope Zachary wrote in the eighth century to Cuthbert, Archbishop of Canterbury, requesting that women might be restrained from turning palmers; and the second Council of Chalons, in 813, bitterly denouncing this mischievous pastime, declared that there were laymen who believed they might sin with impunity because they had undertaken a pilgrimage; that there were great men who under that pretext practised the grossest impositions on their dependants; that poor men employed the same excuse to render begging a more profitable employment; and that there were others who thought the mere sight of holy places would purify them from their sins; thus forgetting the saying of St. Jerome, that there was nothing meritorious in merely seeing Jerusalem, but in living a holy life there.

Yet not even these exposures could quell the rage for pilgrimages, which in the eleventh century culminated in the Crusades; and when, in despair, "The Infidel" was at last permitted to possess all Palestine, crusader and pilgrim transferred their affection to the farfamed shrine of the Virgin mother at Walsingham; a shrine which owed its reputation to its being an exact facsimile of the desecrated and deserted "Santa Casa," or real home of the Virgin at Nazareth.

This Walsingham Chapel was founded in 1061; and soon rivalled the most popular shrines of Christendom in the number of its pilgrims and the fabulousness of its wealth. In 1369, Lord Burghersh by his

*"Faiths of the World." VII. P. 661.

will ordained that a statue of himself on horseback should be made in silver, and be presented to the Virgin there. Henry VII. procured a similar image of himself, about three feet high, and placed it as a votive offering on the same altar. Henry III., Edward I. and Edward II., were among those who made the Walsingham pilgrimage; Henry VIII. walked there barefoot to present a costly necklace to the Virgin, and made it his favourite place of devotion; yet, soon after, doomed this very place to destruction. As the result there was a riot among the people of Norfolk who up to that time had made no small gain out of the endless pilgrim bands passing through their midst; and to this kingly act we are indebted for the following pathetic lines

:

Bitter, bitter, O! to behoulde,

The grasse to grow,

Where the walles of Walsingham
So stately did shewe.

"Oules doe scrike where the sweetest himmes

Lately wear songe :
Toads and serpents hold their dennes
Where the palmers did throng.

"Weepe, weepe, O Walsingham!
Whose days are nightes,
Blessings turned to blasphemies,
Holy deeds to despites.

"Sinne is where our Lady sate,

Heaven turned is to helle;
Sathan sits where our Lord did swaye;
Walsingham, O farewell!"

It is to be feared however that these lines are more touching than truthful. That is the Palmer of the poets; this is the same character portrayed in the plain prose of that period: "Also I knowe well that when divers men and women will goe thus . . . on pilgrimage, they will ordaine to have with them both men and women that can well sing wanton songs; and some other pil

grimes will have with them baggepipes, so that every town that they come through, what with the noise of their singing and the sound of their piping and the jangling of their Canturburie bells and with the barking out of dogges after them, they make more noise than if the King came there away with all his clarions and many other minstrels; and if these men and women be a moneth out in their pilgrimage many of them shall be a halfe yeare after, great janglers, tale-tellers, and liers." Those are the words of a preacher; and with them the words of a proverb agree: "Pilgrims seldom come home saints."

In the intervals between her various pilgrimages, Mary, it is said, maintained herself as before, by the work of her hands in spinning and sewing; so that she lived poor and died poor, and at her death possessed only two well-worn gowns which she bequeathed to two poor women.* This holy Virgin, however, bestowed her charity not only with a dead but also with a living hand; for, being inspired by Christ Himself with charity in its intensest form, she was wont to succour the needy without even being asked; † and

"From her heart her gifts were given, As the light leaps out of heaven."

Yet her poverty was the least of her many sorrows: for an angel told St. Bridget that in Mary's esteem worldly riches were of no more value than dirt; hence neither her poverty nor the death of her husband is so much as mentioned among "the seven dolours of Mary;" which, encircling all her life, composed her crown of thorns, and constituted this" Mother of Mercies,"

*"Glories of Mary." P. 492, † Ibid. P. 478. Ibid. P. 492.

"The Mother of Sorrows and Queen of Martyrs."*

The first of her seven sorrows, as recognised by the Church of Rome, was the prophecy of Simeon; at the uttering of which, as the Virgin herself told St. Matilda,† "All her joy was changed into sorrow;" for from that hour it was hers to experience what Seneca only surmised when he said, "Unfortunate indeed would his lot be, who, knowing the future, would have to suffer all by anticipation." We are accordingly asked to believe that this afflicted mother informed one of the saints of Rome that, already knowing what her Son was to suffer, she "when suckling Him, thought of the gall and vinegar; when swathing Him, of the cords with which He was to be bound; when bearing Him in her arms, of the cross to which He was to be nailed; when sleeping, of His death . . . and when she beheld His sacred hands and feet she thought of the nails that would one day pierce them;" and that then her eyes filled with tears and her heart was tortured with grief. Indeed, in connection with this same sorrow, she is further represented as saying,||

My beloved children, do not pity me only for the hour in which I beheld my dear Jesus expiring before my eyes; for the sword of sorrow predicted by Simeon pierced my soul during the whole of my life."

Her second dolour was the flight into Egypt; and the third the loss of her Son when He tarried in the temple; concerning which it is asserted that this Holy Mother, through the love she bore her child, then suffered more than any martyr ever endured in the separation of the soul from his body; and that

*"Glories of Mary." P. 403. Ibid. P. 421. Ibid. P. 423.

Ibid. P. 406.

those three days of search were to her three long ages of distress.*

Mary's fourth sorrow was in meeting Jesus on His way to the cross; and this is the substance of the account of that sad meeting, which is given by "infallible" authority:†

"When the time of the Passion of our Lord was drawing near, her eyes were always filled with tears, and the prospect of His approaching suffering caused a cold sweat to cover her. On the approach of the long dreaded day, Jesus in tears went to take leave of His mother. In the morning the disciples came; some to relate to her the cruel treatment of her Son in the house of Caiaphas; and others the insults He had received from Herod. Finally St. John came and said, 'Thy Son is already condemned to death: He is already gone forth on His way to Calvary: come if thou desirest to see Him, and bid Him a last farewell in some street through which He must pass." Mary, therefore, went with St. John, and by the blood with which the way was sprinkled perceived that her beloved Son had already passed: but on her taking a shorter path and placing herself at the corner of a street, what a scene of sorrow presented itself before her! nails, the hammers, the cords, the fatal instruments of death, were all being borne by wicked hands before the suffering Saviour; then, too, was heard the sound of a trumpet proclaiming aloud His fearful sentence; and Mary looking up, beheld a young man, whom she could scarcely recognise, covered with wounds from head to foot, a wreath of thorns upon His brow, and two heavy beams upon His shoulders. At length Jesus, for it was He, wiped from His eyes the clotted blood which prevented Him from seeing, and looked at His mother; His mother looked at her Son.

The

and

"Now when Margaret, the daughter of Sir Thomas More, met her father on the way to death, she could only exclaim "O, father, father!" and fell fainting at his feet; but Mary, at the sight of her Son on His way to Calvary, did not thus faint; nor did she die, though her sorrow was enough to have caused her a thousand deaths; for God reserved her for yet sorer grief."

The fifth great woe that Mary

*"Glories of Mary." P. 423. Ibid. Pp. 439–441.

had was the death of our Redeemer. On the way to Calvary she sought to embrace her Son, but the rough guards thrust her aside with insult; but nothing daunted, she also took up her cross, and followed, to be crucified with Him.*

"Now ponder well the words in which Mary revealed to St. Bridget the horrors of that hour:†

'My dear Jesus was breathless, exhausted, and in His last agony on the Cross His eyes were sunk, half closed and lifeless; His lips hanging, and His mouth open; His cheeks hollow and drawn in; His face elongated; His nose sharp; His countenance sad; His head had fallen on His breast, His hair was black with blood. . . . and His whole body covered with wounds.'

....

"Then ponder yet more deeply the words that immediately follow:

'All those sufferings of Jesus were also those of Mary; who ever then was present. ... might see two altars, on which two great sacrifices were consummated; the one in the body of Jesus, the other in the heart of Mary. Nay there was but one altar, that of the Cross of the Son, on which with this Divine Lamb, the victim, the mother was also sacrificed; therefore the saint (Chrysostom) asks this mother, "O, Lady, where art thou? near the Cross? Nay, rather, thou art on the Cross, crucified, sacrificing thyself with thy Son." The Cross and nails of the Son were also those of

Surely it was an invention sufficiently bold to aver that this maid of Nazareth granted to the Son of God "permission to deliver Himself up to death," as though our Emmanuel needed human sanction ere He could atone for human sin and not a few will be surprised to learn that the most glorious verse in all the Scriptures is, with Cardinal Manning's approval, parodied or perverted into "Mary so loved the world as to give her only-begotten Son; " but surprise must give place to indignation, when this same authority declares that "although God could create the world out of nothing, yet, when it was lost by sin, He would not repair the evil without the co-operation of Mary;" that by the merits of her sorrows she did actually co-operate in our birth to the life of grace; and that for this reason she is expressly and justly called "The co-operatress in our redemption;" "The Saviour of the world."¶

That the world thus had a twofold redeemer; and that our sins were doubly atoned for, first by the precious blood of Jesus and then by the sorrows of Mary, is the gospel according to Rome: but it is assuredly another gospel than that

was also crucified.""

Thus these two victims of human sin together suffered, He with eyes fixed on her; she, on Him; and by their mutual love so intensified their mutual woes that "Jesus on the Cross suffered more from compassion for His mother than from His own torments;" and in the same way Mary "suffered far more than she would have done had she herself endured His whole passion." ||

*"Glories of Mary." P. 442.
Ibid. P. 445. Ibid. P. 447.
Ibid. P. 411.

tles does once mention a Roman Mary, but most certainly never once mentions the Mary of Rome.

The sixth great woe that Mary had was the piercing of our Saviour's side; for while she was yet weeping, the soldier came who, by the stroke of his spear, shook the cross and cleft the Saviour's heart in twain; but though the injury of that stroke was inflicted on Jesus, Mary suffered its pain; He received the

*"Glories of Mary." P. 34.
† Ibid. P. 478. Ibid. P. 141.
#Ibid.
P. 366.

P. 448.

Ibid.

§ Romans xvi. 6.

which was so overwhelming that it was only by a miraculous interposition she did not die.* She then entreated Joseph of Arimathea to obtain the body from Pilate. He accordingly went and so pleaded her case that compassion for this afflicted mother softened his heart and moved him to grant the request. Three ladders were therefore placed against the cross to take the sacred body down. The holy disciples, on drawing out the nails, gave them to Mary, and soon after placed in her arms the lifeless form of her beloved Son. She it was who closed His eyes, but His arms she could not close; Jesus even in death thus giving us to understand that He would for ever more remain with arms outstretched ready to welcome every sinner who returns in penitence to Him.

The last great woe that Mary had was the burial of our Lord; for the disciples, fearful that she might die of grief, approached to take from her arms the body of her Son. This they did with gentle violence; and having embalmed it, they wrapped it in a linen cloth, which is still preserved at Turin, and on which the Saviour was pleased to leave the impress of His sacred person. Having lifted the dreadful burden to their shoulders, the mournful train set forth. Choirs of angels accompanied the procession; the holy women followed, and with them the afflicted mother. When they reached the appointed place, Mary accompanied the corpse into the tomb, where the nails and crown of thorns had already been deposited by the disciples; and on raising the stone to close up the entrance, they were compelled to approach our Blessed Lady," and say, "Now, O

"Glories of Mary." Pp. 452-155. † Ibid. P. 458.

forgive us; look once more at thy Son, and bid Him a last farewell." So she came forth; but in that one tomb that day two hearts lay buried. Mary then returned to her own house, but so afflicted and sad that, wherever she passed, all who met her wept, and could not restrain their tears; and the holy disciples and the women who companied with her "mourned even more for her than for her Lord."*

Such were the seven sorrows of Mary; in memory of which endless statues have been carved, representing her with

seven swords piercing her sacred heart; and it is said that a certain youth, having one night committed mortal sin, went next morning to visit one of these wondrous images; and perceiving, to his surprise, that there were no longer only seven but eight swords in the heart of Holy Mary, at the same time heard a voice which said it was his crime that had planted there the eighth.f

These sorrows in their accumulated weight were enough to have caused her death, not once, but a thousand times; so that she was not only a real martyr, but her martyrdom surpassed all others; for whilst the love of other martyrs to the Saviour made their sufferings sweet to their souls, the very intenseness of Mary's love made her sufferings, borne in the person of her Son, all the more unendurable. There was no love like her love, and so no sorrow like her sorrow. Hence St. Ildephonsus exclaims: "To say that Mary's sorrows were greater than all the torments of all the martyrs united is to say too little;" for if the sorrows of all the world were united, they would not equal those of the Virgin Mary. Indeed, * "Glories of Mary." P. 460. † Ibid. P. 425. Ibid. P. 415.