Purgatory: Doctrinal, Historical, and Poetical

by Mrs. J. Sadlier

[Footnote 1: "Deux Ans au Mexique," Faucher de St. Maurice.]

It would be impossible to conclude our olla podrida, if I may venture on the expression, of historical lore, relating to the dead, without referring, however briefly, to the two great deaths, and consequently the magnificent obsequies which have marked this very year of 1885, in which we write. Those of Archbishop Bourget, of Montreal, and of His Eminence, Cardinal McCloskey, of New York. They were both expressions of national sorrow, and the homage paid by sorrowing multitudes to true greatness. On the 10th of June, 1885, the venerable Archbishop Bourget died at Sault-au-Recollet, and was brought on the following morning to the Church of Notre Dame, Montreal. The days that ensued were all days of Requiem. Psalms were sung, and the office of the dead chanted by priests of all the religious orders in succession, by the various choirs of the city, by the secular clergy, and by lay societies. Archbishops and bishops sang high Mass with all the pomp of our holy ritual, and the prayers of the poor for him who had been their benefactor, mingled with those of the highest in the land, and followed the beloved remains from the bed of death whence they were taken down into the funeral vault. On the 10th of October, 1885, His Eminence the Cardinal Archbishop of New York passed peacefully away, amidst the grief of the whole community, both Protestant and Catholic. Again, there was a very ovation of prayer. The obsequies were marked by a splendor such as, according to a contemporary journal, had never before attended any ecclesiastical demonstration on this side of the water. The clergy, secular and religious, formed one vast assemblage, while layman vied with layman in showing honor to the dead, and in praying for the soul's repose. "All that man could do," says a prominent Catholic journal, "to bring honor to his bier was done, and in honor and remembrance his memory remains. All that Mother Church could offer as suffrage for his soul has been offered."

That is wherein the real beauty of it all consists. Honor to the great dead may, it is true, be the splendid expression of national sentiment. But in the eyes of faith it is meaningless. Other great men, deservedly honored by the nations, have passed away during this same year, but where was the prayer, accompanying them to the judgment-seat, assisting them in that other life, repairing their faults, purging away sins or imperfections? The grandeur that attended Mgr. Bourget's burial and Cardinal McCloskey's obsequies consisted chiefly in that vast symphony of prayer, which arose so harmoniously, and during so many days, for their soul's welfare.

Devotion to the dead, as we have seen, exists everywhere, is everywhere dear to the hearts of the people, from those first early worshippers, who, in the dawn of Christianity, in the dimness of the Catacombs prayed for the souls of their brethren in Christ, begging that they might "live in God," that God might refresh them, down through the ages to our own day, increasing as it goes in fervor and intensity. We meet with its records, written boldly, so to say, on the brow of nations, or in out-of-the-way corners, down among the people, in the littleness and obscurity of humble domestic annals. In the earliest liturgies, in the most ancient sacramentaries, there is the prayer for "refreshment, light, and peace," as it is now found in the missals used at the daily sacrifice, on the lips of the priest, in the prayers of the humblest and most unlettered petitioner. It is the "low murmur of the vale," changing, indeed, at times into the thunder on the mountain tops, amazing the unbelieving world which stands aloof and stares, as in the instances but lately quoted, or existing forgotten, and overlooked by them, but no less deep and solemn. It is a Requiem Æternam pervading all time, and ceasing only with time itself, when the Eternity of rest for the Church Militant has begun.

PRAYER FOR THE DEAD IN THE ANGLO-SAXON CHURCH.

DR. LINGARD.

The Anglo-Saxons had inherited from their teachers the practice of prayer for the dead—a practice common to every Christian Church which dates its origin from any period before the Reformation. It was not that they pretended to benefit by their prayers the blessed in heaven, or the reprobate in hell; but they had never heard of the doctrine which teaches that "every soul of man, passing out of the body, goeth immediately to one or other of those places" (Book of Homilies. Hom. VII. On Prayer). And therefore assuming that God will render to all according to their works, they believed that the souls of men dying in a state of less perfect virtue, though they might not be immediately admitted to the supreme felicity of the saints, would not, at least, be visited with the everlasting punishment of the wicked. [1] It was for such as these that they prayed, that if they were in a state of imperfect happiness, that happiness might be augmented; if in a state of temporary punishment, the severity of that punishment might be mitigated; and this they hoped to obtain from the mercy of God, in consideration of their prayers, fasts, and alms, and especially of the "oblation of the most Holy Victim in the Sacrifice of the Mass."

[Footnote 1: "Some souls proceed to rest after their departure; some go to punishment for that which they have done, and are often released by alms-deeds, but chiefly through the Mass, if it be offered for them; others are condemned to hell with the devil." (Serm. ad. Pop. in Oct. Pent.) "There be many places of punishment, in which souls suffer in proportion to their guilt before the general judgment, so that some of them are fully cleansed, and have nothing to suffer in that fire of the last day." (Hom. apud. Whelock, p. 386.)]

This was a favorite form of devotion with our ancestors. It came to them recommended by the practice of all antiquity; it was considered an act of the purest charity on behalf of those who could no longer pray for themselves; it enlisted in its favor the feelings of the survivor, who was thus enabled to intercede with God for his nearest and dearest friends, and it opened at the same time to the mourner a source of real consolation in the hour of bereavement and distress. It is true, indeed, that the petitioners knew not the state of the departed soul; he might be incapable of receiving any benefit from their prayers, but they reasoned, with St. Augustine, that, even so, the piety of their intentions would prove acceptable to God. When Alcuin heard that Edilthryde, a noble Saxon lady, lamented most bitterly the death of her son, he wrote to her from his retreat at Tours, in the following terms:—"Mourn not for him whom you cannot recall. If he be of God, instead of grieving that you have lost him, rejoice that he is gone to rest before you. Where there are two friends, I hold the death of the first preferable to that of the second, because the first leaves behind him one whose brotherly love will intercede for him daily, and whose tears will wash away the frailties of his life in this world. Be assured that your pious solicitude for the soul of your son will not be thrown away. It will benefit both you and him—you, because you exercise acts of hope and charity; him, because such acts will tend either to mitigate his sufferings, or to add to his happiness."

[Footnote 1: Ep. Cli Tom. I, p. 212.]