From the Meditations of

Anne Catherine Emmerich

London, Burns and Lambert

[1862]

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PREFACE TO THE FRENCH TRANSLATION.

BY THE ABBÃ DE CAZALÃS.

THE writer of this Preface was travelling in Germany, when he chanced to
meet with a book, entitled, The History of the Passion of our Lord Jesus
Christ, from, the Meditations of Anne Catherine Emmerich, which appeared to
him both interesting and edifying. Its style was unpretending, its ideas
simple, its tone unassuming, its sentiments unexaggerated, and its every
sentence expressive of the most complete and entire submission to the
Church. Yet, at the same time, it would have been difficult anywhere to meet
with a more touching and life-like paraphrase of the Gospel narrative. He
thought that a book possessing such qualities deserved to be known on this
side the Rhine, and that there could be no reason why it should not be
valued for its own sake, independent of the somewhat singular source whence
it emanated.

Still, the translator has by no means disguised to himself that this work is
written, in the first place, for Christians; that is to say, for men who
have the right to be very diffident in giving credence to particulars
concerning facts which are articles of faith; and although he is aware that
St. Bonaventure and many others, in their paraphrases of the Gospel history,
have mixed up traditional details with those given in the sacred text, even
these examples have not wholly reassured him. St. Bonaventure professed only
to give a paraphrase, whereas these revelations appear to be something more.
It is certain that the holy maiden herself gave them no higher title than
that of dreams, and that the transcriber of her narratives treats as
blasphemous the idea of regarding them in any degree as equivalent to a
fifth Gospel; still it is evident that the confessors who exhorted Sister
Emmerich to relate what she saw, the celebrated poet who passed four years
near her couch, eagerly transcribing all he heard her say, and the German
Bishops, who encouraged the publication of his book, considered it as
something more than a paraphrase. Some explanations are needful on this
head.

The writings of many Saints introduce us into a now, and, if I may be
allowed the expression, a miraculous world. In all ages there have been
revelations about the past, the present, the future, and even concerning
things absolutely inaccessible to the human intellect. In the present day
men are inclined to regard these revelations as simple hallucinations, or as
caused by a sickly condition of body.

The Church, according to the testimony of her most approved writers,
recognises three descriptions of ecstasy; of which the first is simply
natural, and entirely brought about by certain physical tendencies and a
highly imaginative mind; the second divine or angelic, arising from
intercourse held with the supernatural world; and the third produced by
infernal agency. [1] Lest we should here write a book instead of a preface,
we will not enter into any development of this doctrine, which appears to us
highly philosophical, and without which no satisfactory explanation can be
given on the subject of the soul of man and its various states.

The Church directs certain means to be employed to ascertain by what spirit
these ecstasies are produced, according to the maxim of St. John:˜Try the
spirits, if they be of God.™ When circumstances or events claiming to be
supernatural have been properly examined according to certain rules, the
Church has in all ages made a selection from them

Many persons who have been habitually in a state of ecstasy have been
canonised, and their books approved. But this approbation has seldom
amounted to more than a declaration that these books contained nothing
contrary to faith, and that they were likely to promote a spirit of piety
among the faithful. For the Church is only founded on the word of Christ and
on the revelations made to the Apostles. Whatever may since have been
revealed to certain saints possesses purely a relative value, the reality of
which may even be disputedit being one of the admirable characteristics of
the Church, that, though inflexibly one in dogma, she allows entire liberty
to the human mind in all besides. Thus, we may believe private revelations,
above all, when those persons to whom they were made have been raised by the
Church to the rank of Saints publicly honoured, invoked, and venerated; but,
even in these cases, we may, without ceasing to be perfectly orthodox,
dispute their authenticity and divine origin. It is the place of reason to
dispute and to select as it sees best.

With regard to the rule for discerning between the good and the evil spirit,
it is no other, according to all theologians, than that of the Gospel. A
fructibus eorum, cognoscetis eos. By their fruits you shall know them. It
must be examined in the first place whether the person who professes to have
revelations mistrusts what passes within himself; whether he would prefer a
more common path; whether far from boasting of the extraordinary graces
which he receives, he seeks to hide them, and only makes them known through
obedience; and, finally, whether he is continually advancing in humility,
mortification, and charity. Next, the revelations themselves must be very
closely examined into; it must be seen whether there is anything in them
contrary to faith; whether they are conformable to Scripture and Apostolical
tradition; and whether they are related in a headstrong spirit, or in a
spirit of entire submission to the Church.

Whoever reads the life of Anne Catherine Emmerich, and her book, will be
satisfied that no fault can be found in any of these respects either with
herself or with her revelations. Her book resembles in many points the
writings of a great number of saints, and her life also bears the most
striking similitude to theirs. To be convinced of this fact, we need but
study the writings or what is related of Saints Francis of Assissium,
Bernard, Bridget, Hildegarde, Catherine of Genoa, Catherine of Sienna,
Ignatius, John of the Cross, Teresa, and an immense number of other holy
persons who are less known.. So much being conceded, it is clear that in
considering Sister Emmerich to have been inspired by God™s Holy Spirit, we
are not ascribing more merit to her book than is allowed by the Church to
all those of the same class. They are all edifying, and may serve to promote
piety, which is their sole object. We must not exaggerate their importance
by holding as an absolute fact that they proceed from divine inspiration, a
favour so great that its existence in any particular case should not be
credited save with the utmost circumspection.

With regard, however, to our present publication, it may be urged that,
considering the superior talents of the transcriber of Sister Emmerich™s
narrations, the language and expressions which he has made use of may not
always have been identical with those which she employed. We have no
hesitation whatever in allowing the force of this argument. Most fully do we
believe in the entire sincerity of M. Clèment Brentano, because we both
know and love him, and, besides, his exemplary piety and the retired life
which he leads, secluded from a world in which it would depend but on
himself to hold the highest place, are guarantees amply sufficient to
satisfy any impartial mind of his sincerity. A poem such as he might
publish, if he only pleased, would cause him to be ranked at once among the
most eminent of the German poets, whereas the office which he has taken upon
himself of secretary to a poor visionary has brought him nothing but
contemptuous raillery. Nevertheless, we have no intention to assert that in
giving the conversations and discourses of Sister Emmerich that order and
coherency in which they were greatly wanting, and writing them down in his
own way, he may not unwittingly have arranged, explained, and embellished
them. But this would not have the effect of destroying the originality of
the recital, or impugning either the sincerity of the nun, or that of the
writer.

The translator professes to be unable to understand how any man can write
for mere writing™s sake, and without considering the probable effects which
his work will produce. This book, such as it is, appears to him to be at
once unusually edifying, and highly poetical. It is perfectly clear that it
has, properly speaking, no literary pretensions whatever. Neither the
uneducated maiden whose visions are here related, nor the excellent
Christian writer who has published them in so entire a spirit of literary
disinterestedness, ever had the remotest idea of such a thing. And yet there
are not, in our opinion, many highly worked-up compositions calculated to
produce an effect in any degree comparable to that which will be brought
about by the perusal of this unpretending little work. It is our hope that
it will make a strong impression even upon worldlings, and that in many
hearts it will prepare the way for better ideas,perhaps even for a lasting
change of life.

In the next place, we are not sorry to call public attention in some degree
to all that class of phenomena which preceded the foundation of the Church,
which has since been perpetuated uninterruptedly, and which too many
Christians are disposed to reject altogether, either through ignorance and
want of reflection, or purely through human respect. This is a field which
has hitherto been but little explored historically, psychologically, and
physiologically; and it would be well if reflecting minds were to bestow
upon it a careful and attentive investigation. To our Christian readers we
must remark that this work has received the approval of ecclesiastical
authorities. It has been prepared for the press under the superintendence of
the two late Bishops of Ratisbonne, Sailer and Wittman. These names are but
little known in France; but in Germany they are identical with learning,
piety, ardent charity, and a life wholly devoted to the maintenance and
propagation of the Catholic faith. Many French priests have given their
opinion that the translation of a book of this character could not but tend
to nourish piety, without, however, countenancing that weakness of spirit
which is disposed to lend more importance in some respects to private than
to general revelations, and consequently to substitute matters which we are
simply permitted to believe, in the place of those which are of faith.

We feel convinced that no one will take offence at certain details given on
the subject of the outrages which were suffered by our divine Lord during
the course of his passion. Our readers will remember the words of the
psalmist:˜I am a worm and no man; the reproach of men, and the outcast of
the people;™ and those of the apostle:˜Tempted in all things like as we
are, without sin.™ Did we stand in need of a precedent, we should request
our readers to remember how plainly and crudely Bossuet describes the same
scenes in the most eloquent of his four sermons on the Passion of our Lord.
On the other hand, there have been so many grand platonic or rhetorical
sentences in the books published of late years, concerning that abstract
entity, on which the writers have been pleased to bestow the Christian title
of the Word, or Logos, that it may be eminently useful to show the Man-God,
the Word made flesh, in all the reality of his life on earth, of his
humiliation, and of his sufferings. It must be evident that the cause of
truth, and still more that of edification, will not be the losers.
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[1] See, on this head, the work of Cardinal Bona, De Descretione Spirituum.
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INTRODUCTION.

THE following meditations will probably rank high among many similar works
which the contemplative love of Jesus has produced; but it is our duty, here
plainly to affirm that they have no pretensions whatever to be regarded as
history. They are but intended to take one of the lowest places among those
numerous representations of the Passion which have been given us by pious
writers and artists, and to be considered at the very utmost as the Lenten
meditations of a devout nun, related, in all simplicity, and written down in
the plainest and most literal language, from her own dictation. To these
meditations, she herself never attached more than a mere human value, and
never related them except through obedience, and upon the repeated commands
of the directors of her conscience.

The writer of the following pages was introduced to this holy religious by
Count Leopold de Stolberg. [2] Dean Bernard Overberg, her director
extraordinary, and Bishop Michael Sailer, [3] who had often been her
counsellor and consoler, urged her to relate to us in detail all that she
experienced; and the latter, who survived her, took the deepest interest in
the arrangement and publication of the notes taken down from her dictation.
These illustrious and holy men, now dead, and whose memory is blessed, were
in continual communion of prayer with Anne Catherine, whom they loved and
respected, on account of the singular graces with which God had favoured
her. The editor of this book received equal encouragement, and met with no
less sympathy in his labours, from the late Bishop of Ratisbonne, Mgr.
Wittman. [4] This holy Bishop, who was so deeply versed in the ways of
Divine grace, and so well acquainted with its effects on certain souls, both
from his private investigations of the subject, and his own experience, took
the most lively interest in all that concerned Anne Catherine, and on
hearing of the work in which the editor of this book was engaged, he
strongly exhorted him to publish it.˜These things have not been
communicated to you for nothing,™ would he often say;˜God has his views in
all. Publish something at least of what you know, for you will thereby
benefit many souls.™ He at the same time brought forward various instances
from his own experience and that of others, showing the benefit which had
been derived from the study of works of a similar character. He delighted in
calling such privileged souls as Anne Catherine the marrow of the bones of
the Church, according to the expression of St. John Chrysostom, medulla enim
hujus mundi sunt, and he encouraged the publication of their lives and
writings as far as lay in. his power.

The editor of this book being taken by a kind friend to the dying bed of the
holy Bishop, had no reason whatever to expect to be recognised, as he had
only once in his life conversed with him for a few minutes; nevertheless the
dying saint knew him again, and after a few most kind words blessed and
exhorted him to continue his work for the glory of God.

Encouraged by the approbation of such men, we therefore yield to the wishes
of many virtuous friends in publishing the Meditations on the Passion, of
this humble religious, to whom God granted the favour of being at times
simple, ingenuous, and ignorant as a child, while at others she was
clear-sighted, sensible, possessed of a deep insight into the most
mysterious and hidden things, and consumed with burning and heroic zeal, but
ever forgetful of self, deriving her whole strength from Jesus alone, and
steadfast in the most perfect humility and entire self-abnegation.

We give our readers a slight sketch of her life, intending at some future
they to publish her biography more in full.
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[2] The Count de Stolberg is one of the most eminent converts whom the
Catholic Church has made from Protestantism. He died in 1819.

[3] The Bishop of Ratisbonne, one of the most celebrated defenders of the
faith in Germany.

[4] Mgr. Wittman was the worthy successor of Sailer, and a man of eminent
sanctity, whose memory is held in veneration by all the Catholics of the
south of Germany.
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LIFE

OF

ANNE CATHERINE EMMERICH,

RELIGIOUS OF THE ORDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE, AT THE CONVENT OF AGNETENBERG,
DULMEN, WESTPHALIA.

ANNE CATHERINE EMMERICH was born at Flamske, a village situated about a mile
and a half from Coesfeld, in the bishopric of Munster, on the 8th of
September 1774, and was baptised in the church of St. James at Coesfeld. Her
parents, Bernard Emmerich and Anne Hiller, were poor peasants, but
distinguished for their piety and virtue.

The childhood of Anne Catherine bore a striking resemblance to that of the
Venerable Anne Garzias de St. Barthelemi, of Dominica del Paradiso, and of
several other holy persons born in the same rank of life as herself. Her
angel-guardian used to appear to her as a child; and when she was taking
care of sheep in the fields, the Good Shepherd himself, under the form of a
young shepherd, would frequently come to her assistance. From childhood she
was accustomed to have divine knowledge imparted to her in visions of all
kinds, and was often favoured by visits from the Mother of God and Queen of
Heaven, who, under the form of a sweet, lovely, and majestic lady, would
bring the Divine Child to be, as it were, her companion, and would assure
her that she loved and would ever protect her. Many of the saints would also
appear to her, and receive from her hands the garlands of flowers which she
had prepared in honour of their festivals. All these favours and visions
surprised the child less than if an earthly princess and the lords and
ladies of her court had come to visit her. Nor was she, later in life, more
surprised at these celestial visits, for her innocence caused her to feel
far more at her ease with our Divine Lord, his Blessed Mother and the
Saints, than she could ever be with even the most kind and amiable of her
earthly companions. The names of Father, Mother, Brother, and Spouse,
appeared to her expressive of the real connections subsisting between God
and man, since the Eternal Word had been pleased to be born of a woman, and
so to become our Brother, and these sacred titles were not mere words in her
mouth.

While yet a child, she used to speak with innocent candour and simplicity of
all that she saw, and her listeners would be filled with admiration at the
histories she would relate from Holy Writ; but their questions and remarks
having sometimes disturbed her peace of mind, she determined to keep silence
on such subjects for the future. In her innocence of heart, she thought that
it was not right to talk of things of this sort, that other persons never
did so, and that her speech should be only Yea, yea, and Nay, nay, or Praise
be to Jesus Christ. The visions with which she was favoured were so like
realities, and appeared to her so sweet and delightful, that she supposed
all Christian children were favoured with the same; and she concluded that
those who never talked on such subjects were only more discreet and modest
than herself, so she resolved to keep silence also, to be like them.

Almost from her cradle she possessed the gift of distinguishing what was
good or evil, holy or profane, blessed or accursed, in material as well as
in spiritual things, thus resembling St. Sibyllina of Pavia, Ida of Louvain,
Ursula Benincasa, and some other holy souls. In her earliest childhood she
used to bring out of the fields useful herbs, which no one had ever before
discovered to be good for anything, and plant them near her father™s
cottage, or in some spot where she was accustomed to work and play; while on
the other hand she would root up all poisonous plants, and particularly
those ever used for superstitious practices or in dealings with the devil.
Were she by chance in a place where some great crime had been committed, she
would hastily run away, or begin to pray and do penance. She used also to
perceive by intuition when she was in a consecrated spot, return thanks to
God, and be filled with a sweet feeling of peace. When a priest passed by
with the Blessed Sacrament, even at a great distance from her home or from
the place where she was taking care of her flock, she would feel a strong
attraction in the direction whence he was coming, run to meet him, and be
kneeling in the road, adoring the Blessed Sacrament, long before he could
reach the spot.

She knew when any object was consecrated, and experienced a feeling of
disgust and repugnance when in the neighbourhood of old pagan cemeteries,
whereas she was attracted to the sacred remains of the saints as steel by
the magnet. When relies were shown to her, she knew what saints they had
belonged to, and could give not only accounts of the minutest and hitherto
unknown particulars of their lives, but also histories of the relies
themselves, and of the places where they had been preserved. During her
whole life she had continual intercourse with the souls in purgatory; and
all her actions and prayers were offered for the relief of their sufferings.
She was frequently called upon to assist them, and even reminded in some
miraculous manner, if she chanced to forget them. Often, while yet very
young, she used to be awakened out of her sleep by bands of suffering souls,
and to follow them on cold winter™s nights with bare feet, the whole length
of the Way of the Cross to Coesfeld, though the ground was covered with
snow.

From her infancy to the day of her death she was indefatigable in relieving
the sick, and in dressing and curing wounds and ulcers, and she was
accustomed to give to the poor every farthing she possessed. So tender was
her conscience, that the slightest sin she fell into caused her such pain as
to make her ill, and absolution then always restored her immediately to
health.

The extraordinary nature of the favours bestowed on her by Almighty God was
no hindrance in the way of her devoting herself to hard labour, like any
other peasant-girl; and we may also be allowed to observe that a certain
degree of the spirit of prophecy is not unusually to be found among her
country men and women. She was taught in the school of suffering and
mortification, and there learned lessons of perfection. She allowed herself
no more sleep or food than was absolutely necessary; passed whole hours in
prayer every night; and in winter often knelt out of doors on the snow. She
slept on the ground on planks arranged in the form of a cross. Her food and
drink consisted of what was rejected by others; she always kept the best
parts even of that for the poor and sick, and when she did not know of any
one to give them to, she offered them to God in a spirit of child-like
faith, begging him to give them to some person who was more in need than
herself. When there was anything to be seen or heard which had no reference
to God or religion, she found some excuse for avoiding the spot to which
others were hastening, or, if there, closed her eyes and ears. She was
accustomed to say that useless actions were sinful, and that when we denied
our bodily senses any gratification of this kind, we were amply repaid by
the progress which we made in the interior life, in the same manner as
pruning renders vines and other fruit-trees more productive. From her early
youth, and wherever she went, she had frequent symbolical visions, which
showed her in parables, as it were, the object of her existence, the means
of attaining it, and her future sufferings, together with the dangers and
conflicts which she would have to go through.

She was in her sixteenth year, when one day, whilst at work in the fields
with her parents and sisters, she heard the bell ringing at the Convent of
the Sisters of the Annunciation, at Coesfeld. This sound so inflamed her
secret desire to become a nun, and had so great an effect upon her, that she
fainted away, and remained ill and weak for a long time after. When in her
eighteenth year she was apprenticed at Coesfeld to a dressmaker, with whom
she passed two years, and then returned to her parents. She asked to be
received at the Convents of the Augustinians at Borken, of the Trappists at
Darfeld, and of the Poor Clares at Munster; but her poverty, and that of
these convents, always presented an insuperable obstacle to her being
received. At the age of twenty, having saved twenty thalers (about 3l.
English), which she had earned by her sewing, she went with this little
suma perfect fortune for a poor peasant-girlto a pious organist of
Coesfeld, whose daughter she had known when she first lived in the town. Her
hope was that, by learning to play on the organ; she might succeed in
obtaining admittance into a convent. But her irresistible desire to serve
the poor and give them everything she possessed left her no time to learn
music, and before long she had so completely stripped herself of everything,
that her good mother was obliged to bring her bread, milk, and eggs, for her
own wants and those of the poor, with whom she shared everything. Then her
mother said:˜Your desire to leave your father and myself, and enter a
convent, gives us much pain; but you are still my beloved child, and when I
look at your vacant seat at home, and reflect that you have given away all
your savings, so as to be now in want, my heart is filled with sorrow, and I
have now brought you enough to keep you for some time.™ Anne Catherine
replied:˜Yes, dear mother, it is true that I have nothing at all left,
because it was the holy will of God that others should be assisted by me;
and since I have given all to him, he will now take care of me, and bestow
his divine assistance upon us all.™ She remained some years at Coesfeld,
employed in labour, good works, and prayer, being always guided by the same
inward inspirations. She was docile and submissive as a child in the hands
of her guardian-angel.

Although in this brief sketch of her life we are obliged to omit many
interesting circumstances, there is one which we must not pass over in
silence. When about twenty-four years of age, she received a favour from our
Lord, which has been granted to many persons devoted in an especial manner
to meditation on his painful Passion; namely, to experience the actual and
visible sufferings of his sacred Head, when crowned with thorns. The
following is the account she herself has given of the circumstances under
which so mysterious a favour was bestowed upon her:˜About four years
previous to my admittance into the convent, consequently in 1798, it
happened that I was in the Jesuits™ Church at Coesfeld, at about twelve
o™clock in the day, kneeling before a crucifix and absorbed in meditation,
when all on a sudden I felt a strong but pleasant heat in my head, and I saw
my Divine Spouse, under the form of a young man clothed with light, come
towards me from the altar, where the Blessed Sacrament was preserved in the
tabernacle. In his left hand he held a crown of flowers, in his right hand a
crown of thorns, and he bade me choose which I would have. I chose the crown
of thorns; he placed it on my head, and I pressed it down with both hands.
Then he disappeared, and I returned to myself, feeling, however, violent
pain around my head. I was obliged to leave the church, which was going to
be closed. One of my companions was kneeling by my side, and as I thought
she might have seen what happened to me, I asked her when we got home
whether there was not a wound on my forehead, and spoke to her in general
terms of my vision, and of the violent pain which had followed it. She could
see nothing outwardly, but was not astonished at what I told her, because
she knew that I was sometimes in an extraordinary state, without her being
able to understand the cause. The next day my forehead and temples were very
much swelled, and I suffered terribly. This pain and swelling often
returned, and sometimes lasted whole days and nights. I did not remark that
there was blood on my head until my companions told me I had better put on a
clean cap, because mine was covered with red spots. I let them think
whatever they liked about it, only taking care to arrange my head-dress so
as to hide the blood which flowed from my head, and I continued to observe
the same precaution even after I entered the convent, where only one person
perceived the blood, and she never betrayed my secret.™

Several other contemplative persons, especially devoted to the passion of
our Lord, have been admitted to the privilege of suffering the torture
inflicted by the crown of thorns, after having seen a vision in which the
two crowns were offered them to choose between, for instance, among others,
St. Catherine of Sienna, and Pasithea of Crogis, a Poor Clare of the same
town, who died in 1617.

The writer of these pages may here be allowed to remark that he himself has,
in full daylight, several times seen blood flow down the forehead and face,
and even beyond the linen wrapped round the neck of Anne Catherine. Her
desire to embrace a religious life was at length gratified. The parents of a
young person whom the Augustinian nuns of Dulmen wished to receive into
their order, declared that they would not give their consent except on
condition that Anne Catherine was taken at the same time. The nuns yielded
their assent, though somewhat reluctantly, on account of their extreme
poverty; and on the 13th November 1802, one week before the feast of the
Presentation of the Blessed Virgin, Anne Catherine entered on her novitiate.
At the present day vocations are not so severely tested as formerly; but in
her case, Providence imposed special trials, for which, rigorous as they
were, she felt she never could be too grateful. Sufferings or privations,
which a soul, either alone or in union with others, imposes upon herself,
for God™s greater glory, are easy to bear; but there is one cross more
nearly resembling the cross of Christ than any other, and that is, lovingly
and patiently to submit to unjust punishments, rebuffs, or accusations. It
was the will of God that during her year™s novitiate she should,
independently of the will of any creature, be tried as severely as the most
strict mistress of novices could have clone before any mitigations had been
allowed in the rules. She learned to regard her companions as instruments in
the hands of God for her sanctification; and at a later period of her life
many other things appeared to her in the same light. But as it was necessary
that her fervent soul should be constantly tried in the school of the Cross,
God was pleased that she should remain in it all her life.

In many ways her position in the convent was excessively painful. Not one of
her companions, nor even any-priest or doctor, could understand her case.
She had learned, when living among poor peasants, to hide the wonderful
gifts which God had bestowed on her; but the case was altered now that she
was in familiar intercourse with a large number of nuns, who, though
certainly good and pious, were filled with ever-increasing feelings of
curiosity, and even of spiritual jealousy in her regard. Then, the
contracted ideas of the community, and the complete ignorance of the nuns
concerning all those exterior phenomena by which the interior life manifests
itself, gave her much to endure, the more so, as these phenomena displayed
themselves in the most unusual and astonishing manner. She heard everything
that was said against her, even when the speakers were at one end of the
convent and she at the other, and her heart was most deeply wounded as if by
poisoned arrows. Yet she bore all patiently and lovingly without showing
that she knew what was said of her. More than once charity impelled her to
cast herself at the feet of some nun who was particularly prejudiced against
her, and ask her pardon with tears. Then, she was suspected of listening at
the doors, for the private feelings of dislike entertained against her
became known, no one knew how, and the nuns felt uncomfortable and uneasy,
in spite of themselves, when in her company.

Whenever the rule (the minutest point of which was Sacred in her eyes) was
neglected in the slightest degree, she beheld in spirit each infringement,
and at times was inspired to fly to the spot where the rule was being broken
by some infringement of the vow of poverty, or disregard of the hours of
silence, and she would then repeat suitable passages from the rule, without
having ever learned them. She thus became an object of aversion to all those
religious who broke the rule; and her sudden appearances among them had
almost the effect of apparitions. God had bestowed upon her the gift of
tears to so great an extent, that she often passed whole hours in the church
weeping over the sins and ingratitude of men, the sufferings of the Church,
the imperfections of the community, and her own faults. But these tears of
sublime sorrow could be understood by none but God, before whom she shed
them, and men attributed them to mere caprice, a spirit of discontent, or
some other similar cause. Her confessor had enjoined that she should receive
the holy communion more frequently than the other nuns, because, so ardently
did she hunger after the bread of angels, that she had been more than once
near dying. These heavenly sentiments awakened feelings of jealousy in her
sisters, who sometimes even accused her of hypocrisy.

The favour which had been shown her in her admittance into the convent, in
spite of her poverty, was also made a subject of reproach. The thought of
being thus an occasion of sin to others was most painful to her, and she
continually besought God to permit her to bear herself the penalty of this
want of charity in her regard. About Christmas, of the year 1802, she had a
very severe illness, which began by a violent pain about her heart.

This pain did not leave her even when she was cured, and she bore it in
silence until the year 1812, when the mark of a cross was imprinted
exteriorly in the same place, as we shall relate further on. Her weakness
and delicate health caused her to be looked upon more as burdensome, than
useful to the community; and this, of course, told against her in all ways,
yet she was never weary of working and serving the others, nor was she ever
so happy as at this period of her lifespent in privations and sufferings of
every description.

On the 13th of November 1803, at the age of twenty-nine, she pronounced her
solemn vows, and became the spouse of Jesus Christ, in the Convent of
Agnetenberg, at Dulmen.˜When I had pronounced my vows,™ she says,˜my
relations were again extremely kind to me. My father and my eldest brother
brought me two pieces of cloth. My father, a good, but stem man, and who had
been much averse to my entering the convent, had told me, when we parted,
that he would willingly pay for my burial, but that he would give nothing
for the convent, and he kept his word, for this piece of cloth was the
winding-sheet used for my spiritual burial in the convent.™

˜I was not thinking of myself,™ she says again,˜I was thinking of nothing
but our Lord and my holy vows. My companions could not understand me; nor
could I explain my state to them. God concealed from them many of the
favours which he bestowed upon me, otherwise they would have had very false
ideas concerning me. Notwithstanding all my trials and sufferings, I was
never more rich interiorly, and my soul was perfectly flooded with
happiness. My cell only contained one chair without a seat, and another
without a back; yet in my eyes, it was magnificently furnished, and when
there I often thought myself in Heaven. Frequently during the night,
impelled by love and by the mercy of God, I poured forth the feelings of my
soul by conversing with him in loving and familiar language, as I had always
done from my childhood, and then those who were watching me would accuse me
of irreverence and disrespect towards God. Once, I happened to say that it
appeared to me that I should be guilty of greater disrespect did I receive
the Body of our Lord without having conversed familiarly with him, and I was
severely reprimanded. Amid all these trials, I yet lived in peace with God
and with all his creatures. When I was working in the garden, the birds
would come and rest on my head and shoulders, and we would together sing the
praises of God. I always beheld my angel-guardian at my side, and although
the devil used frequently to assault and terrify me in various ways, he was
never permitted to do me much harm.˜My desire for the Blessed Sacrament was
so irresistible, that often at night I left my cell and went to the church,
if it was open; but if not, I remained at the door or by the walls, even in
winter, kneeling or prostrate, with my arms extended in ecstasy. The convent
chaplain, who was so charitable as to come early to give me the Holy
Communion, used to find me in this state, but as soon as he was come and had
opened, the church, I always recovered, and hastened to the holy table,
there to receive my Lord and my God. When I was sacristan, I used all on a
sudden to feel myself ravished in spirit, and ascend to the highest parts of
the church, on to cornices, projecting parts of the building, and mouldings,
where it seemed impossible for any being to get by human means. Then I
cleaned and arranged everything, and it appeared to me that I was surrounded
by blessed spirits, who transported me about and held me up in their hands.
Their presence did not cause me the least uneasiness, for I had been
accustomed to it from my childhood, and I used to have the most sweet and
familiar intercourse with them. It was only when I was in the company of
certain men that I was really alone; and so great was then my feeling of
loneliness that I could not help crying like a child that has strayed from
home.™

We now proceed to her illnesses, omitting any description of some other
remarkable phenomena of her ecstatic life, only recommending the reader to
compare the accounts we have already given with what is related of St. Mary
Magdalen of Pazzi.

Anne Catherine had always been weak and delicate, and yet had been, from her
earliest childhood, in the habit of practising many mortifications, of
fasting and of passing the night in watching and prayer in the open air. She
had been accustomed to continual hard labour in the fields, at all seasons
of the year, and her strength was also necessarily much tried by the
exhausting and supernatural states through which she so frequently passed.
At the convent she continued to work in the garden and in the house, whilst
her spiritual labours and sufferings were ever an the increase, so that it
is by no means surprising that she was frequently ill; but her illnesses
arose from yet another cause. We have learned, from careful observations
made every day for the space of four years, and also from what she herself
was unwillingly forced to admit, that during the whole course of her life,
and especially during that part of it which she spent at the convent, when
she enjoyed the highest spiritual favours, a great portion of her illnesses
and sufferings came from taking upon herself the sufferings of others.
Sometimes she asked for the illness of a person who did not bear it
patiently, and relieved him of the whole or of a part of his sufferings, by
taking them upon herself; sometimes, wishing to expiate a sin or put an end
to some suffering, she gave herself up into the hands of God, and be,
accepting her sacrifice, permitted her thus, in union with the merits of his
passion, to expiate the sin by suffering some illness corresponding to it.
She had consequently to bear, not only her own maladies, but those also of
othersto suffer in expiation of the sins of her brethren, and of the faults
and negligences of certain portions of the Christian communityand, finally,
to endure many and various sufferings in satisfaction for the souls of
purgatory. All these sufferings appeared like real illnesses, which took the
most opposite and variable forms, and she was placed entirely under the care
of the doctor, who endeavoured by earthly remedies to cure illnesses which
in reality were the very sources of her life. She said on this
subject˜Repose in suffering has always appeared to me the most desirable
condition possible. The angels themselves would envy us, were envy not an
imperfection. But for sufferings to be really meritorious we must patiently
and gratefully accept unsuitable remedies and comforts, and all other
additional trials. I did not myself fully understand my state, nor know what
it was to lead to. In my soul I accepted my different sufferings, but in my
body it was my duty to strive against them. I had given myself wholly and
entirely to my Heavenly Spouse, and his holy will was being accomplished in
me; but I was living on earth, where I was not to rebel against earthly
wisdom and earthly prescriptions. Even had I fully comprehended my state,
and had both time and power to explain it, there was no one near who would
have been able to understand me. A doctor would simply have concluded that I
was entirely mad, and would have increased his expensive and painful
remedies tenfold. I have suffered much in this way during the whole of my
life, and particularly when I was at the convent, from having unsuitable
remedies administered to me. Often, when my doctors and nurses had reduced
me to the last agony, and that I was near death, God took pity on me, and
sent me some supernatural assistance, which effected an entire cure.™

Four years before the suppression of her convent she went to Flamske for two
days to visit her parents. Whilst there she went once to kneel and pray for
some hours before the miraculous Cross of the Church of St. Lambert, at
Coesfeld. She besought the Almighty to bestow the gifts of peace and unity
upon her convent, offered him the Passion of Jesus Christ for that
intention, and implored him to allow her to feel a portion of the sufferings
which were endured by her Divine Spouse on the Cross. From the time that she
made this prayer her hands and feet became burning and painful, and she
suffered constantly from fever, which she believed was the cause of the pain
in her hands and feet, for she did not dare to think that her prayer had
been granted. Often she was unable to walk, and the pain in her hands
prevented her from working as usual in the garden. On the 3d December 1811,
the convent was suppressed, [5] and the church closed. The nuns dispersed in
all directions, but Anne Catherine remained, poor and ill. A kindhearted
servant belonging to the monastery attended upon her out of charity, and an
aged emigrant priest, who said Mass in the convent, remained also with her.
These three individuals, being the poorest of the Community, did not leave
the convent until the spring of 1812. She was still very unwell, and could
not be moved without great difficulty. The priest lodged with a poor widow
who lived in the neighbourhood, and Anne Catherine had in the same house a
wretched little room on the ground-floor, which looked on the street. There
she lived, in poverty and sickness, until the autumn of 1813. Her ecstasies
in prayer, and her spiritual intercourse with the invisible world, became
more and more frequent. She was about to be called to a state with which she
was herself but imperfectly acquainted, and in order to enter which she did
nothing but submissively abandon herself to the will of God. Our Lord was
pleased about this time to imprint upon her virginal body the stigmas of his
cross and of his crucifixion, which were to the Jews a stumbling-block, and
to the Gentiles folly, and to many persons who call themselves Christians,
both the one and the other. From her very earliest childhood she had
besought our Lord to impress the marks of his cross deeply upon her heart,
that so she might never forget his infinite love for men; but she had never
thought of receiving any outward marks. Rejected by the world, she prayed
more fervently than ever for this end. On the 28th of August, the feast of
St. Augustine, the patron of her order, as she was making this prayer in
bed, ravished in ecstasy and her arms stretched forth, she beheld a young
man approach her surrounded with light. It was under this form that her
Divine Spouse usually appeared to her, and he now made upon her body with
his right hand the mark of a common cross. From this time there was a mark
like a cross upon her bosom, consisting of two bands crossed, about three
inches, long and one wide. Later the skin often rose in blisters on this
place, as if from a burn, and when these blisters burst a burning colourless
liquid issued from them, sometimes in such quantities as to soak through
several sheets. She was long without perceiving what the case really was,
and only thought that she was in a strong perspiration. The particular
meaning of this mark has never been known.

Some weeks later, when making the same prayer, she fell into an ecstasy, and
beheld the same apparition, which presented her with a little cross of the
shape described in her accounts of the Passion. She eagerly received and
fervently pressed it to her bosom, and then returned it. She said that this
cross was as soft and white as wax, but she was not at first aware that it
had made an external mark upon her bosom. A short time after, having gone
with her landlady™s little girl to visit an old hermitage near Dulmen, she
all on a sudden fell into an ecstasy, fainted away, and on her recovery was
taken home by a poor peasant woman. The sharp pain which she felt in her
chest continued to increase, and she saw that there was what looked like a
cross, about three inches in length, pressed tightly upon her breast-bone,
and looking red through the skin. As she had spoken about her vision to a
nun with whom she was intimate, her extraordinary state began to be a good
deal talked of. On All Souls™ day, 1812, she went out for the last time, and
with much difficulty succeeded in reaching the church. From that time till
the end of the year she seemed to be dying, and received the last
Sacraments. At Christmas a smaller cross appeared on the top of that upon
her chest. It was the same shape as the larger one, so that the two together
formed a double forked cross. Blood flowed from this cross every Wednesday,
so as to leave the impression of its shape on paper laid over it. After a
time this happened on Fridays instead. In 1814 this flow of blood took place
less frequently, but the cross became as red as fire every Friday. At a
later period of her life more blood flowed from this cross, especially every
Good Friday; but no attention was paid to it. On the 30th March 1821, the
writer of these pages saw this cross of a deep red colour, and bleeding all
over. In its usual state it was colourless, and its position only marked by
slight cracks in the skin. . . . Other Ecstaticas have received similar
marks of the Cross; among others, Catherine of Raconis, Marina de l™Escobar,
Emilia Bichieri, S. Juliani Falconieri, &c.

She received the stigmas on the last days of the year 1812. On the 29th
December, about three o™clock in the afternoon, she was lying on her bed in
her little room, extremely ill, but in a state of ecstasy and with her arms
extended, meditating on the sufferings of her Lord, and beseeching him to
allow her to suffer with him. She said five Our Fathers in honour of the
Five Wounds, and felt her whole heart burning with love. She then saw a
light descending towards her, and distinguished in the midst of it the
resplendent form of her crucified Saviour, whose wounds shone like so many
furnaces of light. Her heart was overflowing with joy and sorrow, and, at
the sight of the sacred wounds, her desire to suffer with her Lord became
intensely violent. Then triple rays, pointed like arrows, of the colour of
blood, darted forth from the hands, feet, and side of the sacred apparition,
and struck her hands, feet, and right side. The triple rays from the side
formed a point like the head of a lance. The moment these rays touched her,
drops of blood flowed from the wounds which they made. Long did she remain
in a state of insensibility, and when she recovered her senses she did not
know who had lowered her outstretched arms. It was with astonishment that
she beheld blood flowing from the palms of her hands, and felt violent pain
in her feet and side. It happened that her landlady™s little daughter came
into her room, saw her hands bleeding, and ran to tell her mother, who with
great anxiety asked Anne Catherine what had happened, but was begged by her
not to speak about it. She felt, after having received the stigmas, that an
entire change had taken place in her body; for the course of her blood
seemed to have changed, and to flow rapidly towards the stigmas. She herself
used to say:˜No words can describe in what manner it flows.™

We are indebted to a curious incident for our knowledge of the circumstances
which we have here related. On the 15th December 1819, she had a detailed
vision of all that had happened to herself, but so that she thought it
concerned some other nun who she imagined must be living not far off, and
who she supposed had experienced the same things as herself. She related all
these details with a very strong feeling of compassion, humbling herself,
without knowing it, before her own patience and sufferings. It was most
touching to hear her say:˜I ought never to complain any more, now that I
have seen the sufferings of that poor nun; her heart is surrounded with a
crown of thorns, but she bears it placidly and with a smiling countenance.
It is shameful indeed for me to complain, for she has a far heavier burden
to bear than I have.™

These visions, which she afterwards recognised to be her own history, were
several times repeated, and it is from them that the circumstances under
which she received the stigmas became known. Otherwise she would not have
related so many particulars about what her humility never permitted her to
speak of, and concerning which, when asked by her spiritual superiors whence
her wounds proceeded, the utmost she said was:˜I hope that they come from
the hand of God.™

The limits of this work preclude us from entering upon the subject of
stigmas in general, but we may observe that the Catholic Church has produced
a certain number of persons, St. Francis of Assissium being the first, who
have attained to that degree of contemplative love of Jesus which is the
most sublime effect of union with his sufferings, and is designated by
theologians, Vulnus divinum, Plago amoris viva. There are known to have been
at least fifty. Veronica Giuliani, a Capuchiness, who died at Città di
Castello in 1727, is the last individual of the class who has been canonised
(on the 26th May 1831). Her biography, published at Cologne in 1810, gives a
description of the state of persons with stigmas, which in many ways is
applicable to Anne Catherine. Colomba Schanolt, who died at Bamberg in 1787,
Magdalen Lorger, who died at Hadamar in 1806, both Dominicanesses, and Rose
Serra, a Capuchiness at Ozieri in Sardinia, who received the stigmas in
1801, are those of our own times of whom we know the most. Josephine Kumi,
of the Convent of Wesen, near Lake Wallenstadt in Switzerland, who was still
living in 1815, also belonged to this class of persons, but we are not
entirely certain whether she had the stigmas.

Anne Catherine being, as we have said, no longer able to walk or rise from
her bed, soon became unable also to eat. Before long she could take nothing
but a little wine and water, and finally only pure water; sometimes, but
very rarely, she managed to swallow the juice of a cherry or a plum, but she
immediately vomited any solid food, taken in ever so small a quantity. This
inability to take food, or rather this faculty of living for a great length
of time upon nothing but water, we are assured by learned doctors is not
quite unexampled in the history of the sick.

Theologians will be perfectly aware that there are many instances of
contemplative ascetics, and particularly of persons frequently in a state of
ecstasy and who have received the stigmas, remaining long without taking any
other food than the Blessed Sacrament; for instance, B. Nicholas of Flue,
St. Liduvina of Schiedam, St. Catherine of Sienna, St. Angela of Foligno,
and St. Louise de l™Ascension. All the phenomena exhibited in the person of
Anne Catherine remained concealed even from those who had the most
intercourse with her, until the 25th February 1813, when they were
discovered accidentally by one of her old convent companions. By the end of
March, the whole town talked of them. On the 23d of March, the physician of
the neighbourhood forced her to undergo an examination. Contrary to his
expectation, he was convinced of the truth, drew up an official report of
what be had seen, became her doctor and her friend, and remained such to her
death. On the 28th of March, commissioners were appointed to examine into
her case by the spiritual authorities of Munster. The consequence of this
was that Anne Catherine was henceforth looked upon kindly by her superiors,
and acquired the friendship of the late Dean Overberg, who from that time
paid her every year a visit of several days™ duration, and was her consoler
and spiritual director. The medical counsellor from Druffel, who was present
at this examination in the capacity of doctor, never ceased to venerate her.
In 1814, he published in the Medical Journal of Salzbourg a detailed account
of the phenomena which he had remarked in the person of Anne Catherine, and
to this we refer those of our readers who desire more particulars upon the
subject. On the 4th of April, M. Gamier, the Commissary-General of the
French police, came from Munster to see her; he inquired minutely into her
case, and having learned that she neither prophesied nor spoke on politics,
declared that there was no occasion for the police to occupy themselves
about her. In 1826, he still spoke of her at Paris with respect and emotion.

On the 22d of July 1813, Overberg came to see her, with Count de Stolberg
and his family. They remained two days with her, and Stolberg, in a letter
which has been several times printed, bore witness to the reality of the
phenomena observed in Anne Catherine, and gave expression to his intense
veneration for her. He remained her friend as long as he lived, and the
members of his family never ceased recommending themselves to her prayers.
On the 29th of September 1813, Overberg took the daughter of the Princess
Galitzin (who died in 1806) to visit her, and they saw with their own eyes
blood flow copiously from her stigmas. This distinguished lady repeated her
visit, and, after becoming Princess of Salm, never varied in her sentiments,
but, together with her family, remained in constant communion of prayer with
Anne Catherine. Many other persons in all ranks of life were, in like
manner, consoled and edified by visiting her bed of suffering. On the 23d of
October 1813, she was carried to another lodging, the window of which looked
out upon a garden. The condition of the saintly nun became day by day more
painful. Her stigmas were a source of indescribable suffering to her, down
to the moment of her death. Instead of allowing her thoughts to dwell upon
those graces to the interior presence of which they bore such miraculous
outward testimony, she learned from them lessons of humility, by considering
them as a heavy cross laid upon her for her sins. Her suffering body itself
was to preach Jesus crucified. It was difficult indeed to be an enigma to
all persons, an object of suspicion to the greatest number, and of respect
mingled with fear to some few, without yielding to sentiments of impatience,
irritability, or pride. Willingly would she have lived in entire seclusion
from the world, but obedience soon compelled her to allow herself to be
examined and to have judgment passed upon her by a vast number of curious
persons. Suffering, as she was, the most excruciating pains, she was not
even allowed to be her own mistress, but was regarded as something which
every one fancied he had a right to look at and to pass judgment upon,often
with no good results to any one, but greatly to the prejudice of her soul
and body, because she was thus deprived of so much rest and recollection of
spirit. There seemed to be no bounds to what was expected of her, and one
fat man, who had some difficulty in ascending her narrow winding staircase,
was heard to complain that a person like Anne Catherine, who ought to be
exposed on the public road, where every one could see her, should remain in
a lodging so difficult to reach. In former ages, persons in her state
underwent in private the examination of the spiritual authorities, and
carried out their painful vocation beneath the protecting shadow of hallowed
walls; but our suffering heroine had been cast forth from the cloister into
the world at a time when pride, coldness of heart, and incredulity were all
the vogue; marked with the stigmas of the Passion of Christ, she was forced
to wear her bloody robe in public, under the eyes of men who scarce believed
in the Wounds of Christ, far less in those which were but their images.

Thus this holy woman, who in her youth had been in the habit of praying for
long hours before pictures of all the stages of Christ™s painful Passion, or
before wayside crosses, was herself made like unto a cross on the public
road, insulted by one passer by, bathed in warm tears of repentance by a
second, regarded as a mere physical curiosity by a third, and venerated by a
fourth, whose innocent hands would bring flowers to lay at her feet.

In 1817 her aged mother came from the country to die by her side. Anne
Catherine showed her all the love she could by comforting and praying for
her, and closing her eyes with her own handsthose hands marked with the
stigmas on the 13th of March of the same year. The inheritance left to Anne
Catherine by her mother was more than sufficient for one so imbued with the
spirit of mortification and suffering; and in her turn she left it
unimpaired to her friends. It consisted of these three sayings:˜Lord, thy
will, not mine, be done;™˜Lord, give me patience, and then strike hard;™
˜Those things which are not good to put in the pot are at least good to put
beneath it.™ The meaning of this last proverb was: If things are not fit to
be eaten, they may at least be burned, in order that food may be cooked;
this suffering does not nourish my heart, but by bearing it patiently, I may
at least increase the fire of divine love, by which alone life can profit us
anything. She often repeated these proverbs, and then thought of her mother
with gratitude. Her father had died some little time before.

The writer of these pages became acquainted with her state first through
reading a copy of that letter of Stolberg, to which we have already alluded,
and afterwards through conversation with a friend who had passed several
weeks with her. In September 1818 he was invited by Bishop Sailer to meet
him at the Count de Stolberg™s, in Westphalia; and he went in the first
place to Sondermuhlen to see the count, who introduced him to Overberg, from
whom he received a letter addressed to Anne Catherine™s doctor. He paid her
his first visit on the 1711 of September 1818; and she allowed him to pass
several hours by her side each day, until the arrival of Sailer. From the
very beginning, she gave him her confidence to a remarkable extent, and this
in the most touching and ingenuous manner. No doubt she was conscious that
by relating without reserve the history of all the trials, joys, and sorrows
of her whole life, she was bestowing a most precious spiritual alms upon
him. She treated him with the most generous hospitality, and had no
hesitation in doing so, because he did not oppress her and alarm her
humility by excessive admiration. She laid open her interior to him in the
same charitable spirit as a pious solitary would in the morning offer the
flowers and fruit which had grown in his garden during the night to some
way-worn traveller, who, having lost his road in the desert of the world,
finds him sitting near his hermitage. Wholly devoted to her God, she spoke
in this open manner as a child would have done, unsuspectingly, with no
feelings of mistrust, and with no selfish end in view. May God reward her!

Her friend daily wrote down all the observations that he made concerning
her, and all that she told him about her life, whether interior or exterior.
Her words were characterised alternately by the most childlike simplicity
and the most astonishing depth of thought, and they fore. shadowed, as it
were, the vast and sublime spectacle which later was unfolded, when it
became evident that the past, the present, and the future, together with all
that pertained to the sanctification, profanation, and judgment of souls,
formed before and within her an allegorical and historical drama, for which
the different events of the ecclesiastical year furnished subjects, and
which it divided into scenes, so closely linked together were all the
prayers and sufferings which she offered in sacrifice for the Church
militant.

On the 22d of October 1818 Sailer came to see her, and having remarked that
she was lodging at the back of a public-house, and that men were playing at
nine-pins under her window, said in the playful yet thoughtful manner which
was peculiar to him:˜See, see; all things are as they should bethe invalid
nun, the spouse of our Lord, is lodging in a public-house above the ground
where men are playing at nine-pins, like the soul of man in his body.™ His
interview with Anne Catherine was most affecting; it was indeed beautiful to
behold these two souls, who were both on fire with the love of Jesus, and
conducted by grace through such different paths, meet thus at the foot of
the Cross, the visible stamp of which was borne by one of them. On Friday,
the 23d of October, Sailer remained alone with her during nearly the whole
of the day; he saw blood flow from her head, her hands, and her feet, and he
was able to bestow upon her great consolation in her interior trials. He
most earnestly recommended her to tell everything without reserve to the
writer of these pages, and he came to an understanding upon the subject with
her ordinary director. He heard her confession, gave her the Holy Communion
on Saturday, the 24th, and then continued his journey to the Count de
Stolberg™s. On his return, at the beginning of November, he again passed a
day with her. He remained her friend until death, prayed constantly for her,
and asked her prayers whenever he found himself in trying or difficult
positions. The writer of these pages remained until January. He returned
again in May 1819, and continued to watch Anne Catherine almost
uninterruptedly until her death.

The saintly maiden continually besought the Almighty to remove the exterior
stigmas, on account of the trouble and fatigue which they occasioned, and
her prayer was granted at the end of seven years. Towards the conclusion of
the year 1819, the blood first flowed less frequently from her wounds, and
then ceased altogether. On the 25th of December, scabs fell from her feet
and hands, and there only remained white scars, which became red on certain
days, but the pain she suffered was undiminished in the slightest degree.
The mark of the cross, and the wound on her right side, were often to be
seen as before but not at any stated times. On certain days she always had
the most painful sensations around her head, as though a crown of thorns
were being pressed upon it. On these occasions she could not lean her head
against anything nor even rest it on her hand, but had to remain for long
hours, sometimes even for whole nights, sitting up in her bed, supported by
cushions, whilst her pallid face, and the irrepressible groans of pain which
escaped her, made her like an awful living representation of suffering.
After she had been in this state, blood invariably flowed more or less
copiously from around her head. Sometimes her head-dress only was soaked
with it, but sometimes the blood would flow down her face and neck. On Good
Friday, April 19th, 1819, all her wounds re-opened and bled, and closed
again on the following days. A most rigorous inquiry into her state was made
by some doctors and naturalists. For that end she was placed alone in a
strange house, where she remained from the 7th to the 29th of August; but
this examination appears to have produced no particular effects in any way.
She was brought back to her own dwelling on the 29th of August, and from
that time until she died she was left in peace, save that she was
occasionally annoyed by private disputes and public insults. On this subject
Overberg wrote her the following words:˜What have you had to suffer
personally of which you can complain? I am addressing a soul desirous of
nothing so much as to become more and more like to her divine Spouse. Have
you not been treated far more gently than was your adorable Spouse? Should
it not be a subject of rejoicing to you, according to the spirit, to have
been assisted to resemble him more closely, and thus to be more pleasing in
his eyes? You had suffered much with Jesus, but hitherto insults had been
for the most part spared you. With the crown of thorns you had not worn the
purple mantle and the robe of scorn, much less had you yet heard the cry,
Away with him! Crucify him! Crucify him! I cannot doubt but that these
sentiments are yours. Praise be to Jesus Christ.™

On Good Friday, the 30th of March 1820, blood flowed from her head, feet,
hands, chest, and side. It happened that when she fainted, one of the
persons who were with her, knowing that the application of relies relieved
her, placed near her feet a piece of linen in which some were wrapped, and
the blood which came from her wounds reached this piece of linen after a
time. In the evening, when this same piece of linen with the relies was
being, placed on her chest and shoulders, in which she was suffering much,
she suddenly exclaimed, while in a state of ecstasy:˜It is most wonderful,
but I see my Heavenly Spouse lying in the tomb in the earthly Jerusalem; and
I also see him living in the heavenly Jerusalem surrounded by adoring
saints, and in the midst of these saints I see a person who is not a
sainta nun. Blood flows from her head, her side, her hands, and her feet,
and the saints are above the bleeding parts.™

On the 9th February 1821 she fell into an ecstasy at the time of the funeral
of a very holy priest. Blood flowed from her forehead, and the cross on her
breast bled also. Some one asked her,˜What is the matter with you?™ She
smiled, and spoke like one awakening from a dream:˜We were by the side of
the body. I have been accustomed lately to hear sacred music, and the De
Profundis made a great impression upon me.™ She died upon the same day three
years later. In 1821, a few weeks before Easter, she told us that it had
been said to her during her prayer,˜Take notice, you will suffer on the
real anniversary of the Passion, and not on the day marked this year in the
Ecclesiastical Calendar.™ On Friday, the 30th of March, at ten o™clock in
the morning, she sank down senseless. Her face and bosom were bathed in
blood, and her body appeared covered with bruises like what the blows of a
whip would have inflicted. At twelve o™clock in the day, she stretched
herself out in the form of a cross, and her arms were so extended as to be
perfectly dislocated. A few minutes before two o™clock, drops of blood
flowed from her feet and hands. On Good Friday, the 20th of April, she was
simply in a state of quiet contemplation. This remarkable exception to the
general rule seemed to be an effect of the providence of God, for, at the
hour when her wounds usually bled, a number of curious and ill-natured
individuals came to see her with the intention of causing her fresh
annoyances, by publishing what they saw; but they thus were made
unintentionally to contribute to her peace, by saying that her wounds had
ceased to bleed.

On the 19th of February 1822 she was again warned that she would suffer on
the last Friday of March, and not on Good Friday.

On Friday the 15th, and again on Friday the 29th, the cross on her bosom and
the wound of her side bled. Before the 29th, she more than once felt as
though a stream of fire were flowing rapidly from her heart to her side, and
down her arms and legs to the stigmas, which looked red and inflamed. On the
evening of Thursday the 28th, she fell into a state of contemplation on the
Passion, and remained in it until Friday evening. Her chest, head, and side
bled; all the veins of her hands were swollen, and there was a painful spot
in the centre of them, which felt damp, although blood did not flow from it.
No blood flowed from the stigmas excepting upon the 3d of March, the day of
the finding of the Holy Cross. She had also a vision of the discovery of the
true cross by St. Helena, and imagined herself to be lying in the excavation
near the cross. Much blood came in the morning from her head and side, and
in the afternoon from her hands and feet, and it seemed to her as though she
were being made the test of whether the cross was really the Cross of Jesus
Christ, and that her blood was testifying to its identity.

In the year 1823, on Holy Thursday and Good Friday, which came on the 27th
and 28th of March, she had visions of the Passion, during which blood flowed
from all her wounds, causing her intense pain. Amid these awful sufferings,
although ravished in spirit, she was obliged to speak and give answers
concerning all her little household affairs, as if she had been perfectly
strong and well, and she never let fall a complaint, although nearly dying.
This was the last time that her blood gave testimony to the reality of her
union with the sufferings of him who has delivered himself up wholly and
entirely for our salvation. Most of the phenomena of the ecstatic life which
are shown us in the lives and writings of Saints Bridget, Gertrude,
Mechtilde, Hildegarde, Catherine of Sienna, Catherine of Genoa, Catherine of
Bologna, Colomba da Rieti, Lidwina of Schiedam, Catherine Vanini, Teresa of
Jesus, Anne of St. Bartholomew, Magdalen of Pazzi, Mary Villana, Mary
Buonomi, Marina d™Escobar, Crescentia de Kaufbeuern, and many other nuns of
contemplative orders, are also to be found in the history of the interior
life of Anne Catherine Emmerich. The same path was marked out for her by
God. Did she, like these holy women, attain the end? God alone knows. Our
part is only to pray that such may have been the case, and we are allowed to
hope it. Those among our readers who are not acquainted with the ecstatic
life from the writings of those who have lived it, will find information on
this subject in the Introduction of Goërres to the writings of Henry Suso,
published at Ratisbonne in 1829.

Since many pious Christians, in order to render their life one perpetual act
of adoration, endeavour to see in their daily employments a symbolical
representation of some manner of honouring God, and offer it to him in union
with the merits of Christ, it cannot appear extra. ordinary that those holy
souls who pass from an active life to one of suffering and contemplation,
should sometimes see their spiritual labours under the form of those earthly
occupations which formerly filled their days. Then their acts were prayers;
now their prayers are acts; but the form remains the same. It was thus that
Anne Catherine, in her ecstatic life, beheld the series of her prayers for
the Church under the forms of parables bearing reference to agriculture,
gardening, weaving, sowing, or the care of sheep. All these different
occupations were arranged, according to their signification, in the
different periods of the common as well as the ecclesiastical year, and were
pursued under the patronage and with the assistance of the saints of each
day, the special graces of the corresponding feasts of the Church being also
applied to them. The signification of this circle of symbols had reference
to all the active part of her interior life. One example will help to
explain our meaning. When Anne Catherine, while yet a child, was employed in
weeding, she besought God to root up the cockle from the field of the
Church. If her hands were stung by the nettles, or if she was obliged to do
afresh the work of idlers, she offered to God her pain and her fatigue, and
besought him, in the name of Jesus Christ, that the pastor of souls might
not become weary, and that none of them might cease to labour zealously and
diligently. Thus her manual labour became a prayer.

I will now give a corresponding example of her life of contemplation and
ecstasy. She had been ill several times, and in a state of almost continual
ecstasy, during which she often moaned, and moved her hands like a person
employed in weeding. She complained one morning that her hands and arms
smarted and itched, and on examination they were found to be covered with
blisters, like what would have been produced by the stinging of nettles. She
then begged several persons of her acquaintance to join their prayers to
hers for a certain intention. The next day her hands were inflamed and
painful, as they would have been after hard work; and when asked the cause,
she replied:˜Ah! I have had so many nettles to root up in the vineyard,
because those whose duty it was to do it only pulled off the stems, and I
was obliged to draw the roots with much difficulty out of a stony soil.™ The
person who had asked her the question began to blame these careless workmen,
but he felt much confused when she replied:˜You were one of them,those who
only pull off the stems of the nettles, and leave the roots in the earth,
are persons who pray carelessly.™ It was afterwards discovered that she had
been praying for several dioceses which were shown to her under the figure
of vineyards laid waste, and in which labour was needed. The real
inflammation of her hands bore testimony to this symbolical rooting up of
the nettles; and we have, perhaps, reason to hope that the churches shown to
her under the appearances of vineyards experienced the good effects of her
prayer and spiritual labour; for since the door is opened to those who
knock, it must certainly be opened above all to those who knock with such
energy as to cause their fingers to be wounded.

Similar reactions of the spirit upon the body are often found in the lives
of persons subject to ecstasies, and are by no means contrary to faith. St.
Paula, if we may believe St. Jerome, visited the holy places in spirit just
as if she had visited them bodily; and a like thing happened to St. Colomba
of Rieti and St. Lidwina of Schiedam. The body of the latter bore traces of
this spiritual journey, as if she had really travelled; she experienced all
the fatigue that a painful journey would cause: her feet were wounded and
covered with marks which looked as if they had been made by stones or
thorns, and finally she had a sprain from which she long suffered.

She was led on this journey by her guardian angel, who told her that these
corporeal wounds signified that she had been ravished in body and spirit.

Similar hurts were also to be seen upon the body of Anne Catherine
immediately after some of her visions. Lidwina began her ecstatic journey by
following her good angel to the chapel of the Blessed Virgin before
Schiedam; Anne Catherine began hers by following her angel guardian either
to the chapel which was near her dwelling, or else to the Way of the Cross
of Coesfeld.

Her journeys to the Holy Land were made, according to the accounts she gave
of them, by the most opposite roads; sometimes even she went all round the
earth, when the task spiritually imposed upon her required it. In the course
of these journeys from her home to the most distant countries., she carried
assistance to many persons, exercising in their regard works of mercy, both
corporal and spiritual, and this was done frequently in parables. At the end
of a year she would go over the same ground again, see the same persons, and
give an account of their spiritual progress or of their relapse into sin.
Every part of this labour always bore some reference to the Church, and to
the king dom. of God upon earth.

The end of these daily pilgrimages which she made in spirit was invariably
the Promised Land, every part of which she examined in detail, and which she
saw sometimes in its present state, and sometimes as it was at, different
periods of sacred history; for her distinguishing characteristic and special
privilege was an intuitive knowledge of the history of the Old and New
Testaments, and of that of the members of the Holy Family, and of all the
saints whom she was contemplating in spirit. She saw the signification of
all the festival days of the ecclesiastical year under both a devotional and
an historical point of view. She saw and described, day by day, with the
minutest detail, and by name, places, persons, festivals, customs, and
miracles, all that happened during the public life of Jesus until the
Ascension, and the history of the apostles for several weeks after the
Descent of the Holy Ghost. She regarded all her visions not as mere
spiritual enjoyments, but as being, so to speak, fertile fields, plentifully
strewn with the merits of Christ, and which had not as yet been cultivated;
she was often engaged in spirit in praying that the fruit of such and such
Sufferings of our Lord might be given to the Church, and she would beseech
God to apply to his Church the merits of our Saviour which were its
inheritance, and of which she would, as it were, take possession, in its
name, with the most touching simplicity and ingenuousness.

She never considered her visions to have any reference to her exterior
Christian life, nor did she regard them as being of any historical value.
Exteriorly she knew and believed nothing but the catechism, the common
history of the Bible, the gospels for Sundays and festivals, and the
Christian almanack, which to her far-sighted vision was an inexhaustible
mine of hidden riches, since it gave her in a few pages a guiding thread
which led her through all time, and by means of which she passed from
mystery to mystery, and solemnised each with all the saints, in order to
reap the fruits of eternity in time, and to preserve and distribute them in
her pilgrimage around the ecclesiastical year, that so the will of God might
be accomplished on earth as it is in Heaven. She had never read the Old or
the New Testaments, and when she was tired of relating her visions, she
would sometimes say:˜Read that in the Bible,™ and then be astonished to
learn that it was not there;˜for,™ she would add,˜people are constantly
saying in these days that you need read nothing but the Bible, which
contains everything, &c. &c.™

The real task of her life was to suffer for the Church and for some of its
members, whose distress was shown her in spirit, or who asked her prayers
without knowing that this poor sick nun had something more to do for them
than to say the Pater noster, but that all their spiritual and corporal
sufferings became her own, and that she had to endure patiently the most
terrible pains, without being assisted, like the contemplatives of former
days, by the sympathising prayers of an entire community. In the age when
she lived, she had no other assistance than that of medicine. While thus
enduring sufferings which she had taken upon herself for others, she often
turned her thoughts to the corresponding sufferings of the Church, and when
thus suffering, for one single person, she would likewise offer all she
endured for the whole Church.

The following is a remarkable instance of the sort:During several weeks she
had every symptom of consumption; violent irritation of the lungs, excessive
perspiration, which soaked her whole bed, a racking cough, continual
expectoration, and a strong continual fever. So fearful were her sufferings
that her death was hourly expected and even desired. It was remarked that
she had to struggle strangely against a strong temptation to irritability.
Did she yield for an instant, she burst into tears, her sufferings increased
tenfold, and she seemed unable to exist unless she immediately gained pardon
in the sacrament of penance. She had also to combat a feeling of aversion to
a certain person whom she had not seen for years. She was in despair because
this person, with whom nevertheless she declared she had nothing in common,
was always before her eyes in the most evil dispositions, and she wept
bitterly, and with much anxiety of conscience, saying that she would not
commit sin, that her grief must be evident to all, and other things which
were quite unintelligible to the persons listening to her. Her illness
continued to increase, and she was thought to be on the point of death. At
this moment one of her friends saw her, to his great surprise, suddenly
raise herself up on her bed, and say:

˜Repeat with me the prayers for those in their last agony.™ He did as
requested, and she answered the Litany in a firm voice. After some little
time, the bell for the agonising was heard, and a person came in to ask Anne
Catherine™s prayers for his sister, who was just dead. Anne Catherine asked
for details concerning her illness and death, as if deeply interested in the
subject, and the friend above-mentioned heard the account given by the new
comer of a consumption resembling in the minutest particulars the illness of
Anne Catherine herself. The deceased woman had at first been in so much pain
and so disturbed in mind that she had seemed quite unable to prepare herself
for death; but during the last fortnight she had been better, had made her
peace with God, having in the first place been reconciled to a person with
whom she was at enmity, and had died in peace, fortified by the last
sacraments, and attended by her former enemy. Anne Catherine gave a small
sum of money for the burial and funeral-service of this person. Her
sweatings, cough, and fever now left her, and she resembled a person
exhausted with fatigue, whose linen has been changed, and who has been
placed on a fresh bed. Her friend said to her,˜When this fearful illness
came upon you, this woman grew better, and her hatred for another was the
only obstacle to her making peace with God. You took upon yourself, for the
time, her feelings of hatred, she died in good dispositions, and now you
seem tolerably well again. Are you still suffering on her account?™˜No,
indeed!™ she replied;˜that would be most unreasonable; but how can any
person avoid suffering when even the end of his little finger is in pain? We
are all one body in Christ.™˜By the goodness of God,™ said her friend,˜you
are now once more somewhat at ease.™˜Not for very long, though,™ she
replied with a smile;˜there are other persons who want my assistance.™ Then
she turned round on her bed, and rested awhile.

A very few days later, she began to feel intense pain in all her limbs, and
symptoms of water on the chest manifested themselves. We discovered the sick
person for whom Anne Catherine was suffering, and we saw that his sufferings
suddenly diminished or immensely increased in exact inverse proportion to
those of Anne Catherine.

Thus did charity compel her to take upon herself the illnesses and even the
temptations of others, that they might be able in peace to prepare
themselves for death. She was compelled to suffer in silence, both to
conceal the weaknesses of her neighbour, and not to be regarded as mad
herself; she war, obliged to receive all the aid that medicine could afford
her for an illness thus taken voluntarily for the relief of others, and to
be reproached for temptations which were not her own; finally, it was
necessary that she should appear perverted in the eyes of men, that so those
for whom she was suffering might be converted before God.

One day a friend in deep affliction was sitting by her bedside, when she
suddenly fell into a state of ecstasy, and began to pray aloud:˜O, my sweet
Jesus, permit me to carry that heavy stone!™ Her friend asked her what was
the matter.˜I am on my way to Jerusalem,™ she replied,˜and I see a poor
man walking along with the greatest difficulty, for there is a large stone
upon his breast, the weight of which nearly crushes him.™ Then again, after
a few moments, she exclaimed:˜Give me that heavy stone, you cannot carry it
any farther; give it to me.™ All on a sudden she sank down fainting, as if
crushed beneath some heavy burden, and at the same moment her friend felt
himself relieved from the weight of sorrow which oppressed him, and his
heart overflowing with extraordinary happiness. Seeing her in such a state
of suffering, he asked her what the matter was, and she looking at him with
a smile, replied:˜I cannot remain here any longer. Poor man, you must take
back your burden.™ Instantly her friend felt all the weight of his
affliction return to him, whilst she, becoming as well again as before,
continued her journey in spirit to Jerusalem.

We will give one more example of her spiritual exertions. One morning she
gave her friend a little bag containing some rye-flour and eggs, and pointed
out to him a small house where a poor woman, who was in a consumption, was
living with her husband and two little children. He was to tell her to boil
and take them, as when boiled they would be good for her chest. The friend,
on entering the cottage, took the bag from under his cloak, when the poor
mother, who, flushed with fever, was lying on a mattress between her
half-naked children, fixed her bright eyes upon him, and holding out her
thin hands, exclaimed:˜O, sir, it must be God or Sister Emmerich who sends
you to me! You are bringing me some rye-flour and eggs.™ Here the poor
woman, overcome by her feelings, burst into tears, and then began to cough
so violently that she had to make a sign to her husband to speak for her. He
said that the previous night Gertrude had been much disturbed, and had
talked a great deal in her sleep, and that on awaking she had told him her
dream in these words:˜I thought that I was standing at the door with you,
when the holy nun came out of the door of the next house, and I told you to
look at her. She stopped in front of us, and said to me:œAh, Gertrude, you
look very ill; I will send you some rye-flour and eggs, which will relieve
your chest.� Then I awoke.™ Such was the simple tale of the poor man; he and
his wife both eagerly expressed their gratitude, and the bearer of Anne
Catherine™s alms left the house much overcome. He did not tell her anything
of this when he saw her, but a few days after, she sent him again to the
same place with a similar present, and he then asked her how it was she knew
that poor woman?˜You know,™ she replied,˜that I pray every evening for all
those who suffer; I should like to go and relieve them, and I generally
dream that I am going from one abode of suffering to another, and that I
assist them to the best of my power. In this way I went in my dream to that
poor woman™s house; she was standing at the door with her husband, and I
said to her:œAh, Gertrude, you look very ill; I will send you some
rye-flour and eggs, which will relieve your chest.� And this I did through
you, the next morning.™ Both persons had remained in their beds, and dreamed
the same thing, and the dream came true. St. Augustin, in his City of God,
book xviii., c. 18, relates a similar thing of two philosophers, who visited
each other in a dream, and explained some passages of Plato, both remaining
asleep in their own houses.

These sufferings, and this peculiar species of active labour, were like a
single ray of light, which enlightened her whole life. Infinite was the
number of spiritual labours and sympathetic sufferings which came from all
parts and entered into her heartthat heart so burning with love of Jesus
Christ. Like St. Catherine of Sienna and some other ecstatics, she often
felt the most profound feeling of conviction that our Saviour had taken her
heart out of her bosom, and placed his own there instead for a time.

The following fragment will give some idea of the mysterious symbolism by
which she was interiorly directed. During a portion of the year 1820 she
performed many labours in spirit, for several different parishes; her
prayers being represented under the figure of most severe labour in a
vineyard. What we have above related concerning the nettles is of the same
character.

On the 6th of September her heavenly guide said to her:˜œ You weeded, dug
around, tied, and pruned the vine; you ground down the weeds so that they
could never spring up any more; and then you went away joyfully and rested
from your prayers. Prepare now to labour hard from the feast of the Nativity
of the Blessed Virgin to that of St. Michael; the grapes are ripening and
must be well watched.� Then he led me,™ she continued,˜to the vineyard of
St. Liboire, and showed me the vines at which I had worked. My labour had
been successful, for the grapes were getting their colour and growing large,
and in some parts the red juice was running down on the ground from them. My
guide said to me:œWhen the virtues of the good begin to shine forth in
public, they have to combat bravely, to be oppressed, to be tempted, and to
suffer persecution. A hedge must be planted around the vineyard in order
that the ripe grapes may not be destroyed by thieves and wild beasts, i.e.
by temptation and persecution.� He then showed me how to build a wall by
heaping up stones, and to raise a thick hedge of thorns all around. As my
hands bled from such severe labour, God, in order to give me strength,
permitted me to see the mysterious signification of the vine, and of several
other fruit trees. Jesus Christ is the true Vine, who is to take root and
grow in us; all useless wood must be cut away, in order not to waste the
sap, which is to become the wine, and in the Most Blessed Sacrament the
Blood of Christ. The pruning of the vine has to be done according to certain
rules which were made known to me. This pruning is, in a spiritual sense,
the cutting off whatever is useless, penance and mortification, that so the
true Vine may grow in us, and bring forth fruit. in the place of corrupt
nature, which only bean wood and leaves. The pruning is done according to
fixed rules, for it is only required that certain useless shoots should be
cut off in man, and to lop off more would be to mutilate in a guilty manner.
No pruning should ever be done upon the stock which has been planted in
humankind through the Blessed Virgin, and is to remain in it for ever. The
true Vine unites heaven to earth, the Divinity to humanity; and it is the
human part that is to be pruned, that so the divine alone may grow. I saw so
many other things relating to the vine that a book as large as the Bible
could not contain them. One day, when I was suffering acute pain in my
chest, I besought our Lord with groans not to give me a burthen above my
strength to bear; and then my Heavenly Spouse appeared, and said to me, . .
.œI have laid thee on my nuptial couch, which is a couch of suffering; I
have given thee suffering and expiation for thy bridal garments and jewels.
Thou must suffer, but I will not forsake thee; thou art fastened to the
Vine, and thou wilt not be lost.� Then I was consoled for all my sufferings.
It was likewise explained to me why in ray visions relating to the feasts of
the family of Jesus, such, for instance, as those of St. Anne, St. Joachim,
St. Joseph, &c., I always saw the Church of the festival under the figure of
a shoot of the vine. The same was the case on the festivals of St. Francis
of Assissium, St. Catherine of Sienna, and of all the saints who have had
the stigmas.

˜The signification of my sufferings in all my limbs was explained to me in
the following vision: I saw a gigantic human body in a horrible state of
mutilation, and raised upwards towards the sky. There were no fingers or
toes on the hands and feet, the body was covered with frightful wounds, some
of which were fresh and bleeding, others covered with dead flesh or turned
into excrescences. The whole of one aide was black, gangrened, and as it
were half eaten away. I suffered as though it had been my own body that was
in this state, and then my guide said to me,œThis is the body of the
Church, the body of all men and thine also.� Then, pointing to each wound,
he showed me at the same time some part of the world; I saw an infinite
number of men and nations separated from the Church, all in their own
peculiar way, and I felt pain as exquisite from this separation as if they
had been torn from my body. Then my guide said to me:œLet thy sufferings
teach thee a lesson, and offer them to God in union with those of Jesus for
all who are separated. Should not one member call upon another, and suffer
in order to cure and unite it once more to the body? When those parts which
are most closely united to the body detach themselves, it is as though the
flesh were torn from around the heart. In my ignorance, I thought that he
was speaking of those brethren who are not in communion with us, but my
guide added:œWho are our brethren? It is not our blood relations who are
the nearest to our hearts, but those who are our brethren in the blood of
Christthe children of the Church who fall away.� He showed me that the
black and gangrened side of the body would soon be cured; that the putrified
flesh which had collected around the wounds represented heretics who divide
one from the other in proportion as they increase; that the dead flesh was
the figure of all. who are spiritually dead, and who are void of any
feeling; and that the ossified parts represented obstinate and hardened
heretics. I saw and felt in this manner every wound and its signification.
The body reached up to heaven. It was the body of the Bride of Christ, and
most painful to behold. I wept bitterly, but feeling at once deeply grieved
and strengthened by sorrow and compassion, I began again to labour with all
my strength.™

Sinking beneath the weight of life and of the task imposed upon her she
often besought God to deliver her, and she then would appear to be on the
very brink of the grave. But each time she would say:˜Lord, not my will but
thine be done! If my prayers and sufferings are useful let me live a
thousand years, but grant that I may die rather than ever offend thee.™ Then
she would receive orders to live, and arise, taking up her cross, once more
to bear it in patience and suffering after her Lord. >From time to time
the road of life which she was pursuing used to be shown to her, leading to
the top of a mountain on which was a shining and resplendent citythe
heavenly Jerusalem. Often she would think she had arrived at that blissful
abode, which seemed to be quite near her, and her joy would be great. But
all on a sudden she would discover that she was still separated from it by a
valley, and then she would have to descend precipices. and follow indirect
paths, labouring, suffering, and performing deeds of charity everywhere. She
had to direct wanderers into the right road, raise up the fallen, sometimes
even carry the paralytic, and drag the unwilling by force, and all these
deeds of charity were as so many fresh weights fastened to her cross. Then
she walked with more difficulty, bending beneath her burden and sometimes
even falling to the ground.

In 1823 she repeated more frequently than usual that she could not perform
her task in her present situation, that she had not strength for it, and
that it was in a peaceful convent that she needed to have lived and died.
She added that God would soon take her to himself, and that she had besought
him to permit her to obtain by her prayers in the next world what her
weakness would not permit her to accomplish in this. St. Catherine of
Sienna, a short time before death, made a similar prayer.

Anne Catherine had previously had a vision concerning what her prayers might
obtain after death, with regard to things that were not in existence during
her life. The year 1823, the last of which she completed the whole circle,
brought her immense labours. She appeared desirous to accomplish her entire
task, and thus kept the promise which she had previously made of relating
the history of the whole Passion. It formed the subject of her Lenten
meditations during this year, and of them the present volume is composed.
But she did not on this account take less part in the fundamental mystery of
this penitential season, or in the different mysteries of each of the
festival days of the Church, if indeed the words to take part be sufficient
to express the wonderful manner in which she rendered visible testimony to
the mystery celebrated in each festival by a sudden change in her corporal
and spiritual life. See on this subject the chapter entitled Interruption of
the Pictures of the Passion.

Every one of the ceremonies and festivals of the Church was to her far more
than the consecration of a remembrance. She beheld in the historical
foundation of each solemnity an act of the Almighty, done in time for the
reparation of fallen humanity. Although these divine acts appeared to her
stamped with the character of eternity, yet she was well aware that in order
for man to profit by them in the bounded and narrow sphere of time, he must,
as it were, take possession of them in a series of successive moments, and
that for this purpose they had to be repeated and renewed in the Church, in
the order established by Jesus Christ and the Holy Spirit. All festivals and
solemnities were in her eyes eternal graces which returned at fixed epochs
in every ecclesiastical year, in the same manner as the fruits and harvests
of the earth come in their seasons in the natural year.

Her zeal and gratitude in receiving and treasuring up these graces were
untiring, nor was she less eager and zealous in offering them to those who
neglected their value. In the same manner as her compassion for her
crucified Saviour had pleased God and obtained for her the privilege of
being marked with the stigmas of the Passion as with a seal of the most
perfect love, so all the sufferings of the Church and of those who were in
affliction were repeated in the different states of her body and soul. And
all these wonders took place within her, unknown to those who were around
her; nor was she herself even more fully conscious of them than is the bee
of the effects of its work, while yet she was tending and cultivating, with
all the care of an industrious and faithful gardener, the fertile garden of
the ecclesiastical year. She lived on its fruits, and distributed them to
others; she strengthened herself and her friends with the flowers and herbs
which she cultivated; or, rather, she herself was in this garden like a
sensitive plant, a sunflower, or some wonderful plant in which, independent
of her own will, were reproduced all the seasons of the year, all the hours
of the day, and all the changes of the atmosphere.

At the end of the ecclesiastical year of 1823, she had for the last time a
vision on the subject of making up the accounts of that year. The
negligences of the Church militant and of her servants were shown to Anne
Catherine, under various symbols; she saw how many graces had not been
coöperated with, or been rejected to a greater or less extent, and how many
had been entirely thrown away. It was made known to her how our Blessed
Redeemer had deposited for each year in the garden of the Church a complete
treasure of his merits, sufficient for every requirement, and for the
expiation of every sin. The strictest account was to be given of all graces
which had been neglected, wasted, or wholly rejected, and the
Church-militant was punished for this negligence or infidelity of her
servants by being oppressed by her enemies, or by temporal humiliations.
Revelations of this description raised to excess her love for the Church,
her mother. She passed days and nights in praying for her, in offering to
God the merits of Christ, with continual groans, and in imploring mercy.
Finally, on these occasions, she gathered together all her courage, and
offered to take upon herself both the fault and the punishment, like a child
presenting itself before the king™s throne, in order to suffer the
punishment she had incurred. It was then said to her,˜See how wretched and
miserable thou art thyself; thou who art desirous to satisfy for the sins of
others.™ And to her great terror she beheld herself as one mournful mass of
infinite imperfection. But still her love remained undaunted, and burst
forth in these words,˜Yes, I am full of misery and sin; but I am thy
spouse, O my Lord, and my Saviour! My faith in thee and in the redemption
which thou hast brought us covers all my sins as with thy royal mantle. I
will not leave thee until thou hast accepted my sacrifice, for the
superabundant treasure of thy merits is closed to none of thy faithful
servants.™ At length her prayer became wonderfully energetic, and to human
ears there was like a dispute and combat with God, in which she was carried
away and urged on by the violence of love. If her sacrifice was accepted,
her energy seemed to abandon her, and she was left to the repugnance of
human nature for suffering. When she had gone through this trial, by keeping
her eyes fixed on her Redeemer in the Garden of Olives, she next had to
endure indescribable sufferings of every description, bearing them all with
wonderful patience and sweetness. We used to see her remain several days
together, motionless and insensible, looking like a dying lamb. Did we ask
her how she was, she would half open her eyes, and reply with a sweet smile,
˜My sufferings are most salutary.™

At the beginning of Advent, her sufferings were a little soothed by sweet
visions of the preparations made by the Blessed Virgil, to leave her home,
and then of her whole journey with St. Joseph to Bethlehem. She accompanied
them each day to the humble inns where they rested for the night, or went on
before them to prepare their lodgings. During this time she used to take old
pieces of linen, and at night, while sleeping, make them into baby clothes
and caps for the children of poor women, the times of whose confinements
were near at hand. The next day she would be surprised to see all these
things neatly arranged in her drawers. This happened to her every year about
the same time, but this year she had more fatigue and less consolation.
Thus, at the hour of our Saviour™s birth, when she was usually perfectly
overwhelmed with joy, she could only crawl with the greatest difficulty to
the crib where the Child Jesus was lying, and bring him no present but
myrrh, no offering but her cross, beneath the weight of which she sank down
half dying at his feet. It seemed as though she were for the last time
making up her earthly accounts with God, and for the last time also offering
herself in the place of a countless number of men who were spiritually and
corporally afflicted. Even the little that is known of the manner in which
she took upon herself the sufferings of others is almost incomprehensible.
She very truly said:˜This year the Child Jesus has only brought me a cross
and instruments of suffering.™

She became each day more and more absorbed in her sufferings, and although
she continued to see Jesus travelling from city to city during his public
life, the utmost she ever said on the subject was, briefly to name in which
direction he was going. Once, she asked suddenly in a scarcely audible
voice,˜What day is it?™ When told that it was the 14th of January, she
added:˜Had I but a few days more, I should have related the entire life of
our Saviour, but now it. is no longer possible for me to do so.™ These words
were the more incomprehensible as she did not appear to know even which year
of the public life of Jesus she was then contemplating in spirit. In 1820
she had related the history of our Saviour down to the Ascension, beginning
at the 28th of July of the third year of the public life of Jesus, after
which she returned to the first year of the life of Jesus, and had continued
down to the 10th of January of the third year of his public life. On the
27th of April 1823, in consequence of a journey made by the writer, an
interruption of her narrative took place, and lasted down to the 21st of
October. She then took up the thread of her narrative where she had left it,
and continued it to the last weeks of her life. When she spoke of a few days
being wanted, her friend himself did not know how far her narrative went,
not having had leisure to arrange what he had written. After her death he
became convinced that if she had been able to speak during the last fourteen
days of her life,™she would have brought it down to the 28th of July of the
third year of the public life of our Lord, consequently to where she had
taken it up in 1820.

Her condition daily became more frightful. She, who usually suffered in
silence, uttered stifled groans, so awful was the anguish she endured. On
the 15th of January she said:˜The Child Jesus brought me great sufferings
at Christmas. I was once more by his manger at Bethlehem. He was burning
with fever, and showed me his sufferings and those of his mother. They were
so poor that they had no food but a wretched piece of bread. He bestowed
still greater sufferings upon me, and said to me:œThou art mine; thou art
my spouse; suffer as I suffered, without asking the reason why.� I do not
know what my sufferings are to be, nor how long they will last. I submit
blindly to my martyrdom, whether for life or for death: I only desire that
the hidden designs of God may be accomplished in me. On the other hand, I am
calm, and I have consolations in my sufferings. Even this morning I was very
happy. Blessed be the holy Name of God!™

Her sufferings continued, if possible, to increase. Sitting up, and with her
eyes closed, she fell from one side to another, while smothered groans
escaped her lips. If she laid down, she was in danger of being stifled; her
breathing was hurried and oppressed, and all her nerves and muscles were
shaken and trembled with anguish. After violent retching, she suffered
terrible pain in her bowels, so much so that it was feared gangrene must be
forming there. Her throat was parched and burning, her mouth swollen, her
cheeks crimson with fever, her hands white as ivory. The scars of the
stigmas shone like silver beneath her distended skin. Her pulse gave from
160 to 180 pulsations per minute. Although unable to speak from her
excessive suffering, she bore every duty perfectly in mind. On the evening
of the 26th, she said to her friend,˜To-day is the ninth day, you must pay
for the wax taper and novena at the chapel of St. Anne.™ She was alluding to
a novena which she had asked to have made for her intention, and she was
afraid lest her friends should forget it. On the 27th, at two o™clock in the
afternoon, she received Extreme Unction, greatly to the relief both of her
soul and body. In the evening her friend, the excellent curé of H, prayed
at her bedside, which was an immense comfort to her. She said to him:˜How
good and beautiful all this is!™ And again:˜May God be a thousand times
praised and thanked!™

The approach of death did not wholly interrupt the wonderful union of her
life with that of the Church. A friend having visited her on the 1st of
February in the evening, had placed himself behind her bed where she could
not see him, and was listening with the utmost compassion to her low moans
and interrupted breathing, when suddenly all became silent, and he thought
that she was dead. At this moment the evening bell ringing for the matins of
the Purification was heard. It was the opening of this festival which had
caused her soul to be ravished in ecstasy. Although still in a very alarming
state, she let some sweet and loving words concerning the Blessed Virgin
escape her lips during the night and day of the festival. Towards twelve
o™clock in the day, she said in a voice already changed by the near approach
of death,˜It was long since I had felt so well. I have been ill quite a
week, have I not? I feel as though I knew nothing about this world of
darkness! O, what light the Blessed Mother of God showed me! She took me
with her, and how willingly would I have remained with her!™ Here she
recollected herself for a moment, and then Said, placing her finger on her
lip:˜But I must not speak of these things.™ From that time she said that
the slightest word in her praise greatly increased her sufferings.

The following days she was worse. On the 7th, in the evening, being rather
more calm, she said:˜Ah, my sweet Lord Jesus, thanks be to thee again and
again for every part of my life. Lord, thy will and not mine be done.™ On
the 8th of February, in the evening, a priest was praying near her bed, when
she gratefully kissed his hand, begged him to assist at her death, and said,
˜O Jesus, I live for thee, I die for thee. O Lord, praise be to thy holy
name, I no longer see or hear!™ Her friends wished to change her position,
and thus ease her pain a little; but she said,˜I am on the Cross, it will
soon all be over, leave me in peace.™ She had received all the last
Sacraments, but she wished to accuse herself once more in confession of a
slight fault which she had already many times confessed; it was probably of
the same nature as a sin which she had committed in her childhood, of which
she often accused herself, and which consisted in having gone through a
hedge into a neighbour™s garden, and coveted some apples which had fallen on
the ground. She had only looked at them; for, thank God, she said, she did
not touch them, but she thought that was a sin against the tenth
commandment. The priest gave her a general absolution; after which she
stretched herself out, and those around her thought that she was dying. A
person who had often given her pain now drew near her bed and asked her
pardon. She looked at him in surprise, and said with the most expressive
accent of truth,˜I have nothing to forgive any living creature.™

During the last days of her life, when her death was momentarily expected,
several of her friends remained constantly in the room adjoining hers. They
were speaking in a low tone, and so that she could not hear them, of her
patience, faith, and other virtues, when all on a sudden they heard her
dying voice saying:˜Ah, for the love of God, do not praise methat keeps me
here, because I then have to suffer double. O my God! how many fresh flowers
are falling upon me!™ She always saw flowers as the forerunners and figures
of sufferings. Then she rejected all praises, with the most profound
conviction of her own unworthiness, saying:˜God alone is good: everything
must be paid, down to the last farthing. I am poor and loaded with sin, and
I can only make up for having been praised by sufferings united to those of
Jesus Christ. Do not praise me, but let me die in ignominy with Jesus on the
cross.™

Boudon, in his life of Father Surin, relates a similar trait of a dying man,
who had been thought to have lost the sense of hearing, but who
energetically rejected a word of praise pronounced by those who were
surrounding his bed.

A few hours before death, for which she was longing, saying,˜O Lord assist
me; come, O Lord Jesus? a word of praise appeared to detain her, and she
most energetically rejected it by making the following act of humility:˜I
cannot die if so many good persons think well of me through a mistake; I beg
of you to tell them all that I am a wretched sinner! Would that I could
proclaim so as to be heard by all men, how great a sinner I am! I am far
beneath the good thief who was crucified by the side of Jesus, for he and
all his contemporaries had not so terrible an account as we shall have to
render of all the graces which have been bestowed upon the Church.™ After
this declaration, she appeared to grow calm, and she said to the priest who
was comforting her:˜I feel now as peaceful and as much filled with hope and
confidence as if I had never committed a sin.™ Her eyes turned lovingly
towards the cross which was placed at the foot of her bed, her breathing
became accelerated, she often drank some liquid; and when the little
crucifix was held to her, she from humility only kissed the feet. A friend
who was kneeling by her bedside in tears, had the comfort of often holding
her the water with which to moisten her lips. As she had laid her hand, on
which the white sear of the wound was most distinctly visible, on the
counterpane, he took hold of that hand, which was already cold, and as he
inwardly wished for some mark of farewell from her, she slightly pressed
his. Her face was calm and serene, bearing an expression of heavenly
gravity, and which can only be compared to that of a valiant wrestler who
after making unheard-of efforts to gain the victory, sinks back and dies in
the very act of seizing the prize. The priest again read through the prayers
for persons in their last agony, and she then felt an inward inspiration to
pray for a pious young friend whose feast day it was. Eight o™clock struck;
she breathed more freely for the space of a few minutes, and then cried
three times with a deep groan:˜O Lord, assist me Lord, Lord, come!™ The
priest rang his bell, and said,˜She is dying.™ Several relations and
friends who were in the next room came in and knelt down to pray. She was
then holding in her hand a lighted taper, which the priest was supporting.
She breathed forth several slight sighs, and then her pure soul escaped her
chaste lips, and hastened, clothed in the nuptial garment, to appear in
heavenly hope before the Divine Bridegroom, and be united for ever to that
blessed company of virgins who follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth. Her
lifeless body sank gently back on the pillows at half-past eight o™clock,
P.M., on the 9th February 1824.

A person who had taken great interest in her during life wrote as follows:
˜After her death, I drew near to her bed. She was supported by pillows, and
lying on her left side. Some crutches, which had been prepared for her by
her friends on one occasion when she had been able to take a few turns in
the room, were hanging over her head, crossed, in a corner. Near them hung a
little oil painting representing the death of the Blessed Virgin, which had
been given her by the Princess of Salm. The expression of her countenance
was perfectly sublime, and bore the traces of the spirit of self-sacrifice,
the patience and resignation of her whole life; she looked as though she had
died for the love of Jesus, in the very act of performing some work of
charity for others. Her right hand was resting on the counterpanethat hand
on which God had bestowed the unparalleled favour of being able at once to
recognise by the touch anything that was holy, or that had been consecrated
by the Churcha favour which perhaps no one had ever before enjoyed to so
great an extenta favour by which the interests of religion might be
inconceivably promoted, provided it was made use of with discretion, and
which surely had not been bestowed upon a poor ignorant peasant girl merely
for her own personal gratification. For the last time I took in mine the
band marked with a sign so worthy of our utmost veneration, the hand which
was as a spiritual instrument in the instant recognition of whatever was
holy, that it might be honoured even in a grain of sandthe charitable
industrious hand, which had so often fed the hungry and clothed the
nakedthis hand was now cold and lifeless. A great favour had been withdrawn
from earth, God had taken from us the hand of his spouse, who had rendered
testimony to, prayed, and suffered for the truth. It appeared as though it
had not been without meaning, that she had resignedly laid down upon her bed
the hand which was the outward expression of a particular privilege granted
by Divine grace. Fearful of having the strong impression made upon me by the
sight of her countenance diminished by the necessary but disturbing
preparations which were being made around her bed, I thoughtfully left her
room. If, I said to myselfif, like so many holy solitaries, she had died
alone in a grave prepared by her own hands, her friendsthe birdswould have
covered her with flowers and leaves; if, like other religious, she had died
among virgins consecrated to God, and that their tender care and respectful
veneration had followed her to the grave, as was the case, for example, with
St. Columba of Rieti, it would have been edifying and pleasing to those who
loved her; but doubtless such honours rendered to her lifeless remains would
not have been conformable to her love for Jesus, whom she so much desired to
resemble in death as in life.™

The same friend later wrote as follows:˜Unfortunately there was no official
post-mortem examination of her body, and none of those inquiries by which
she had been so tormented during life were instituted after her death. The
friends who surrounded her neglected to examine her body, probably for fear
of coming upon some striking phenomenon, the discovery of which might have
caused much annoyance in various ways. On Wednesday the 11th of February her
body was prepared for burial. A pious female, who would not give up to any
one the task of rendering her this last mark of affection, described to me
as follows the condition in which she found her:œ Her feet were crossed
like the feet of a crucifix. The places of the stigmas were more red than
usual. When we raised her head blood flowed from her nose and mouth. All her
limbs remained flexible and with none of the stiffness of death even till
the coffin was closed.� On Friday the 13th of February she was taken to the
grave, followed by the entire population of the place. She reposes in the
cemetery, to the left of the cross, on the side nearest the hedge. In the
grave in front of hers there rests a good old peasant of Welde, and in the
grave behind a poor but virtuous female from Dernekamp.

˜On the evening of the day when she was buried, a rich man went, not to
Pilate, but to the curé of the place. He asked for the body of Anne
Catherine, not to place it in a new sepulchre, but to buy it at a high price
for a Dutch doctor. The proposal was rejected as it deserved, but it appears
that the report spread in the little town that the body had been taken away,
and it is said that the people went in great numbers to the cemetery to
ascertain whether the grave had been robbed.™

To these details we will add the following extract from an account printed
in December 1824, in the Journal of Catholic Literature of Kerz. This
account was written by a person with whom we are unacquainted, but who
appears to have been well informed:˜About six or seven weeks after the
death of Anne Catherine Emmerich, a report having got about that her body
had been stolen away, the grave and coffin were opened in secret, by order
of the authorities, in the presence of seven witnesses. They found with
surprise not unmixed with joy that corruption had not yet begun its work on
the body of the pious maiden. Her features and countenance were smiling like
those of a person who is dreaming sweetly. She looked as though she had but
just been placed in the coffin, nor did her body exhale any corpse-like
smell. It is good to keep the secret of the king, says Jesus the son of
Sirach; but it is also good to reveal to the world the greatness of the
mercy of God.™

We have been told that a stone has been placed over her grave. We lay upon
it these pages; may they contribute to immortalise the memory of a person
who has relieved so many pains of soul and body, and that of the spot where
her mortal remains lie awaiting the Day of Resurrection.
_________________________________________________________________

[5] Under the Government of Jerome Bonaparte. King of Westphalia. (Abbé
Cazalès)
_________________________________________________________________

TO THE READER

WHOEVER compares the following meditations with the short history of the
Last Supper given in the Gospel will discover some slight differences
between them. An explanation should be given of this, although it can never
be sufficiently impressed upon the reader that these writings have no
pretensions whatever to add an iota to Sacred Scripture as interpreted by
the Church.

Sister Emmerich saw the events of the Last Supper take place in the
following order:The Paschal Lamb was immolated and prepared in the
supper-room; our Lord held a discourse on that occasionthe guests were
dressed as travellers, and ate, standing, the lamb and other food prescribed
by the lawthe cup of wine was twice presented to our Lord, but he did not
drink of it the second time; distributing it to his Apostles with these
words: I shall drink no more of the fruit of the vine, &c. Then they sat
down; Jesus spoke of the traitor; Peter feared lest it should be himself;
Judas received from our Lord the piece of bread dipped, which was the sign
that it was he; preparations were made for the washing of the feet; Peter
strove against his feet being washed; then came the institution of the Holy
Eucharist: Judas communicated, and afterwards left the apartment; the oils
were consecrated, and instructions given concerning them; Peter and the
other Apostles received ordination; our Lord made his final discourse; Peter
protested that he would never abandon him; and then the Supper concluded. By
adopting this order, it appears, at first, as though it were in
contradiction to the passages of St. Matthew (xxxi. 29), and of St. Mark
(xiv. 26), in which the words: I will drink no more of the fruit of the
vine, &c., come after the consecration, but in St. Luke, they come before.
On the contrary, all that concerns the traitor Judas comes here, as in St.
Matthew and St. Mark, before the consecration; whereas in St. Luke, it does
not come till afterwards. St. John, who does not relate the history of the
institution of the Holy Eucharist, gives us to understand that Judas went
out immediately after Jesus had given him the bread; but it appears most
probable, from the accounts of the other Evangelists, that Judas received
the Holy Communion under both forms, and several of the fathersSt.
Augustin, St. Gregory the Great, and St. Leo the Greatas well as the
tradition of the Catholic Church, tell us expressly that such was the case.
Besides, were the order in which St. John presents events taken literally,
he would contradict, not only St. Matthew and St. Mark, but himself, for it
must follow, from verse 10, chap. xiii., that Judas also had his feet
washed. Now, the washing of the feet took place after the eating of the
Paschal Lamb, and it was necessarily whilst it was being eaten that Jesus
presented the bread to the traitor. It is plain that the Evangelists here,
as in several other parts of their writings, gave their attention to the
sacred narrative as a whole, and did not consider themselves bound to relate
every detail in precisely the same order, which fully explains the apparent
contradictions of each other, which are to be found in their Gospels. The
following pages will appear to the attentive reader rather a simple and
natural concordance of the Gospels than a history differing in any point of
the slightest importance than that of Scripture.
_________________________________________________________________

MEDITATION I.

Preparations for the Pasch.

Holy Thursday, the 13th of Nisan (29th of March).

YESTERDAY evening it was that the last great public repast of our Lord and
his friends took place in the house of Simon the Leper, at Bethania, and
Mary Magdalen for the last time anointed the feet of Jesus with precious
ointment. Judas was scandalised upon this occasion, and hastened forthwith
to Jerusalem again to conspire with the high-priests for the betrayal of
Jesus into their hands. After the repast, Jesus returned to the house of
Lazarus, and some of the Apostles went to the inn situated beyond Bethania.
During the night Nicodemus again came to Lazarus™ house, had a long
conversation with our Lord, and returned before daylight to Jerusalem, being
accompanied part of the way by Lazarus.

The disciples had already asked Jesus where he would eat the Pasch. To-day,
before dawn, our Lord sent for Peter, James, and John, spoke to them at some
length concerning all they had to prepare and order at Jerusalem, and told
them that when ascending Mount Sion, they would meet the man carrying a
pitcher of water. They were already well acquainted with this man, for at
the last Pasch, at Bethania, it had been him who prepared the meal for
Jesus, and this is why St. Matthew says: a certain man. They were to follow
him home, and say to him: The Master saith, My time is near at hand, with
thee I make the pasch with my disciples (Matt. xxvi. 18). They were then to
be shown the supper-room, and make all necessary preparations.

I saw the two Apostles ascending towards Jerusalem, along a ravine, to the
south of the Temple, and in the direction of the north side of Sion. On the
southern side of the mountain on which the Temple stood, there were some
rows of houses; and they walked opposite these houses, following the stream
of an intervening torrent. When they had reached the summit of Mount Sion,
which is higher than the mountain of the Temple, they turned their steps
towards the south, and, just at the beginning of a small ascent, met the man
who had been named to them; they followed and spoke to him as Jesus had
commanded. He was much gratified by their words, and answered, that a supper
had already been ordered to be prepared at his house (probably by
Nicodemus), but that he had not been aware for whom, and was delighted to
learn that it was for Jesus. This man™s name was Heli, and he was the
brother-in-law of Zachary of Hebron, in whose house Jesus had in the
preceding year announced the death of John the Baptist. He had only one son,
who was a Levite, and a friend of St. Luke, before the latter was called by
our Lord, and five daughters, all of whom were unmarried. He went up every
year with his servants for the festival of the Pasch, hired a room and
prepared the Pasch for persons who had no friend in the town to lodge with.
This year he had hired a supper-room which belonged to Nicodemus and Joseph
of Arimathea. He showed the two Apostles its position and interior
arrangement.
_________________________________________________________________

MEDITATION II.

The Supper-Room.

ON the southern side of Mount Sion, not far from the ruined Castle of David,
and the market held on the ascent leading to that Castle, there stood,
towards the east, an ancient and solid building, between rows of thick
trees, in the midst of a spacious court surrounded by strong walls. To the
right and left of the entrance, other buildings were to be seen adjoining
the wall, particularly to the right, where stood the dwelling of the
major-domo, and close to it the house in which the Blessed Virgin and the
holy women spent most of their time after the death of Jesus. The
supper-room, which was originally larger, had formerly been inhabited by
David™s brave captains, who had there learned the use of arms.

Previous to the building of the Temple, the Ark of the Covenant had been
deposited there for a considerable length of time, and traces of its
presence were still to be found in an underground room. I have also seen the
Prophet Malachy hidden beneath this same roof: he there wrote his prophecies
concerning the Blessed Sacrament and the Sacrifice of the New Law. Solomon
held this house in honour, and performed within its walls some figurative
and symbolical action, which I have forgotten. When a great part of
Jerusalem was destroyed by the Babylonians, this house was spared. I have
seen many other things concerning this same house, but I only remember what
I have now told.

This building was in a very dilapidated state when it became the property of
Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, who arranged the principal building in a
very suitable manner, and let it as a supper-room to strangers coming to
Jerusalem for the purpose of celebrating the festival of the Pasch. Thus it
was that our Lord had made use of it the previous year. Moreover, the house
and surrounding buildings served as warehouses for monuments and other
stones, and as workshops for the labourers; for Joseph of Arimathea
possessed valuable quarries in his own country, from which he had large
blocks of stone brought, that his workmen might fashion them, under his own
eye, into tombs, architectural ornaments, and columns, for sale. Nicodemus
had a share in this business, and used to spend many leisure hours himself
in sculpturing. He worked in the room, or in a subterraneous apartment which
was beneath it, excepting at the times of the festivals; and this occupation
having brought him, into connection with Joseph of Arimathea, they had
become friends, and often joined together in various transactions.

This morning, whilst Peter and John were conversing with the man who had
hired the supper-room, I saw Nicodemus in the buildings to the left of the
court, where a great many stones which filled up the passages leading to the
supper-room had been placed. A week before, I had seen several persons
engaged in putting the stones on one side, cleaning the court, and preparing
the supper-room for the celebration of the Pasch; it even appears to me that
there were among them some disciples of our Lord, perhaps Aram and Themein,
the cousins of Joseph of Arimathea.

The supper-room, properly so called, was nearly in the centre of the court;
its length was greater than its width; it was surrounded by a row of low
pillars, and if the spaces between the pillars had been cleared, would have
formed a part of the large inner room, for the whole edifice was, as it
were, transparent; only it was usual, except on special occasions, for the
passages to be closed up. The room was lighted by apertures at the top of
the walls. In front, there was first a vestibule, into which three doors
gave entrance; next, the large inner room, where several lamps hung from the
platform; the walls were ornamented for the festival, half way up, with
beautiful matting or tapestry, and an aperture had been made in the roof,
and covered over with transparent blue gauze.

The back part of this room was separated from the rest by a curtain, also of
blue transparent gauze. This division of the supper-room into three parts
gave a resemblance to the Templethus forming the outer Court, the Holy, and
the Holy of Holies. In the last of these divisions, on both sides, the
dresses and other things necessary for the celebration of the feast were
placed. In the centre there was a species of altar. A stone bench raised on
three steps, and of a rectangular triangular shape, came out of the wall; it
must have constituted the upper part of the oven used for roasting the
Paschal Lamb, for to-day the steps were quite heated during the repast. I
cannot describe in detail all that there was in this part of the room, but
all kinds of arrangements were being made there for preparing the Paschal
Supper. Above this hearth or altar, there was a species of niche in the
wall, in front of which I saw an image of the Paschal Lamb, with a knife in
its throat, and the blood appearing to flow drop by drop upon the altar; but
I do not remember distinctly how that was done. In a niche in the wall there
were three cupboards of various colours, which turned like our tabernacles,
for opening or closing. A number of vessels used in the celebration of the
Pasch were kept in them; later, the Blessed Sacrament was placed there.

In the rooms at the sides of the supper-room, there were some couches, on
which thick coverlids rolled up were placed, and which could be used as
beds. There were spacious cellars beneath the whole of this building. The
Ark of the Covenant was formerly deposited under the very spot where the
hearth was afterwards built. Five gutters, under the house, served to convey
the refuse to the slope of the hill, on the -upper part of which the house
was built. I had previously seen Jesus preach and perform miraculous cures
there, and the disciples frequently passed the night in the side rooms.


MEDITATION III.

Arrangements for eating the Paschal Lamb.

WHEN the disciples had spoken to Heli of Hebron, the latter went back into
the house by the court, but they turned to the right, and hastened down the
north side of the hill, through Sion. They passed over a bridge, and walking
along a road covered with brambles, reached the other side of the ravine,
which was in front of the Temple, and of the row of houses which were to the
south of that building. There stood the house of the aged Simeon, who died
in the Temple after the presentation of our Lord; and his sons, some of whom
were disciples of Jesus in secret, were actually living there. The Apostles
spoke to one of them, a tall dark-complexioned man, who held some office in
the Temple. They went with him to the eastern side of the Temple, through
that part of Ophel by which Jesus made his entry into Jerusalem on
Palm-Sunday, and thence to the cattle-market, which stood in the town, to
the north of the Temple. In the southern part of this market I saw little
enclosures in which some beautiful lambs were gambolling about. Here it was
that lambs for the Pasch were bought. I saw the son of Simeon enter one of
these enclosures; and the lambs gambolled round him as if they knew him. He
chose out four, which were carried to the supper-room. In the afternoon I
saw him in the supper-room, engaged in preparing the Paschal Lamb.

I saw Peter and John go to several different parts of the town, and order
various things. I saw them also standing opposite the door of a house
situated to the north of Mount Calvary, where the disciples of Jesus lodged
the greatest part of the time, and which belonged to Seraphia (afterwards
called Veronica). Peter and John sent some disciples from thence to the
supper-room, giving them several commissions, which I have forgotten.

They also went into Seraphia™s house, where they had several arrangements to
make. Her husband, who was a member of the council, was usually absent and
engaged in business; but even when he was at home she saw little of him. She
was a woman of about the age of the Blessed Virgin, and had long been
connected with the Holy Family; for when the Child Jesus remained the three
days in Jerusalem after the feast, she it was who supplied him with food.

The two Apostles took from thence, among other things, the chalice of which
our Lord made use in the institution of the Holy Eucharist.
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MEDITATION IV.

The Chalice used at the Last Supper.

THE chalice which the Apostles brought from Veronica™s house was wonderful
and mysterious in its appearance. It had been kept a long time in the Temple
among other precious objects of great antiquity, the use and origin of which
had been forgotten. The same has been in some degree the case in the
Christian Church, where many consecrated jewels have been forgotten and
fallen into disuse with time. Ancient vases and jewels, buried beneath the
Temple, had often been dug up, sold, or reset. Thus it was that, by God™s
permission, this holy vessel, which none had ever been able to melt down on
account of its being made of some unknown material, and which had been found
by the priests in the treasury of the Temple among other objects no longer
made use of, had been sold to some antiquaries. It was bought by Seraphia,
was several times made use of by Jesus in the celebration of festivals, and,
from the day of the Last Supper, became the exclusive property of the holy
Christian community. This vessel was not always the same as when used by our
Lord at his Last Supper, and perhaps it was upon that occasion that the
various pieces which composed it were first put together. The great chalice
stood upon a plate, out of which a species of tablet could also be drawn,
and around it there were six little glasses. The great chalice contained
another smaller vase; above it there was a small plate, and then came a
round cover. A spoon was inserted in the foot of the chalice, and could be
easily drawn out for use. All these different vessels were covered with fine
linen, and, if I am not mistaken, were wrapped up in a case made of leather.
The great chalice was composed of the cup and of the foot, which last must
have been joined on to it at a later period, for it was of a different
material. The cup was pear-shaped, massive, dark-coloured, and highly
polished, with gold ornaments, and two small handles by which it could be
lifted. The foot was of virgin gold, elaborately worked, ornamented with a
serpent and a small bunch of grapes, and enriched with precious stones.

The chalice was left in the Church of Jerusalem, in the hands of St. James
the Less; and I see that it is still preserved in that townit will reappear
some day, in the same manner as before. Other Churches took the little cups
which surrounded it; one was taken to Antioch, and another to Ephesus. They
belonged to the patriarchs, who drank some mysterious beverage out of them
when they received or gave a Benediction, as I have seen many times.

The great chalice had formerly been in the possession of Abraham;
Melchisedech brought it with him from the land of Semiramis to the land of
Canaan, when he was beginning to found some settlements on the spot where
Jerusalem was afterwards built; he made use of it then for offering
sacrifice, when he offered bread and wine in the presence of Abraham, and he
left it in the possession of that holy patriarch. This same chalice had also
been preserved in Noah™s Ark.
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MEDITATION V.

Jesus goes up to Jerusalem.

IN the morning, while the Apostles were engaged at Jerusalem in preparing
for the Pasch, Jesus, who had remained at Bethania, took an affecting leave
of the holy women, of Lazarus, and of his Blessed Mother, and gave them some
final instructions. I saw our Lord conversing apart with his Mother, and he
told her, among other things, that he had sent Peter, the apostle of faith,
and John, the apostle of love, to prepare for the Pasch at Jerusalem. He
said, in speaking of Magdalen, whose grief was excessive, that her love was
great, but still somewhat human, and that on this account her sorrow made
her beside herself. He spoke also of the schemes of the traitor Judas, and
the Blessed Virgin prayed for him. Judas had again left Bethania to go to
Jerusalem, under pretence of paying some debts that were due. He spent his
whole day in hurrying backwards and forwards from one Pharisee to another,
and making his final agreements with them He was shown the soldiers who had
been engaged to seize the person of our Divine Saviour, and he so arranged
his journeys to and fro as to be able to account for his absence. I beheld
all his wicked schemes and all his thoughts. He was naturally active and
obliging, but these good qualities were choked by avarice, ambition, and
envy, which passions he made no effort to control. In our Lord™s absence he
had even performed miracles and healed the sick.

When our Lord announced to his Blessed Mother what was going to take place,
she besought him, in the most touching terms, to let her die with him. But
he exhorted her to show more calmness in her sorrow than the other women,
told her that he should rise again, and named the very spot where he should
appear to her. She did not weep much, but her grief was indescribable, and
there was something almost awful in her look of deep recollection. Our
Divine Lord returned thanks, as a loving Son, for all the love she had borne
him, and pressed her to his heart. He also told her that he would make the
Last Supper with her, spiritually, and named the hour at which she would
receive his precious Body and Blood. Then once more he, in touching
language, bade farewell to all, and gave them different instructions.

About twelve o™clock in the day, Jesus and the nine Apostles went from
Bethania up to Jerusalem, followed by seven disciples, who, with the
exception of Nathaniel and Silas, came from Jerusalem and the neighbourhood.
Among these were John, Mark, and the son of the poor widow who, the Thursday
previous, had offered her mite in the Temple, whilst Jesus was preaching
there. Jesus had taken him into his company a few days before. The holy
women set off later.

Jesus and his companions walked around Mount Olivet, about the valley of
Josaphat, and even as far as Mount Calvary. During the whole of this walk,
be continued giving them instructions. He told the Apostles, among other
things, that until then he had given them his bread and his wine, but that
this day he was going to give them his Body and Blood, his whole self-all
that he had and all that he was. The countenance of our Lord bore so
touching an expression whilst he was speaking, that his whole soul seemed to
breathe forth from his lips, and he appeared to be languishing with love and
desire for the moment when he should give himself to man. His disciples did
not understand him, but thought that he was speaking of the Paschal Lamb. No
words can give an adequate idea of the love and resignation which were
expressed in these last discourses of our Lord at Bethania, and on his way
to Jerusalem.

The seven disciples who had followed our Lord to Jerusalem did not go there
in his company, but carried the ceremonial habits for the Pasch to the
supper-room, and then returned to the house of Mary, the mother of Mark.
When Peter and John came to the supper-room with the chalice, all the
ceremonial habits were already in the vestibule, whither they had been
brought by his disciples and some companions. They had also hung the walls
with drapery, cleared the higher openings in the sides, and put up three
lamps. Peter and John then went to the Valley of Josaphat, and summoned our
Lord and the twelve Apostles. The disciples and friends who were also to
make their Pasch in the supper-room, came later.
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MEDITATION VI.

The Last Pasch.

JESUS and his disciples ate the Paschal Lamb in the supper-room. They
divided into three groups. Jesus ate the Paschal Lamb with the twelve
Apostles in the supper-room, properly so called; Nathaniel with twelve other
disciples in one of the lateral rooms, and Eliacim (the son of Cleophas and
Mary, the daughter of Heli), who had been a disciple of John the Baptist,
with twelve more, in another side-room

Three lambs were immolated for them in the Temple, but there was a fourth
lamb which was immolated in the supper-room, and was the one eaten by Jesus
with his Apostles. Judas was not aware of this circumstance, because being
engaged in plotting his betrayal of our Lord, he only returned a few moments
before the repast, and after the immolation of the lamb had taken place.
Most touching was the scene of the immolation of the lamb to be eaten by
Jesus and his Apostles; it took place in the vestibule of the supper-room.
The Apostles and disciples were present, singing the 118th Psalm. Jesus
spoke of a new period then beginning, and said that the sacrifice of Moses
and the figure of the Paschal Lamb were about to receive their
accomplishment, but that on this very account, the lamb was to be immolated
in the same manner as formerly in Egypt, and that they were really about to
go forth from the house of bondage.

The vessels and necessary instruments were prepared, and then the attendants
brought a beautiful little lamb, decorated with a crown, which was sent to
the Blessed Virgin in the room where she had remained with the other holy
women. The lamb was fastened with its back against a board by a cord around
its body, and reminded me of Jesus tied to the pillar and scourged. The son
of Simeon held the lamb™s head; Jesus made a slight incision in its neck
with the point of a knife, Which he then gave to the son of Simeon, that he
might complete killing it. Jesus appeared to inflict the wound with a
feeling of repugnance, and he was quick in his movements, although his
countenance was grave, and his manner such as to inspire respect. The blood
flowed into a basin, and the attendants brought a branch of hyssop, which
Jesus dipped in it. Then he went to the door of the room, stained the
side-posts and the lock with blood, and placed the branch which had been
dipped in blood above the door. He then spoke to the disciples, and told
them, among other things, that the exterminating angel would pass by, that
they would adore in that room without fear or anxiety, when he, the true
Paschal Lamb, should have been immolatedthat a new epoch, and a new
sacrifice were about to begin, which would last to the end of the world.

They then went to the other side of the room, near the hearth where the Ark
of the Covenant had formerly stood. Fire had already been lighted there, and
Jesus poured some blood upon the hearth, consecrating it as an altar; and
the remainder of the blood and the fat were thrown on the fire beneath the
altar, after which Jesus, followed by his Apostles, walked round the
supper-room, singing some psalms, and consecrating it as a new Temple. The
doors were all closed during this time. Meanwhile the son of Simeon had
completed the preparation of the lamb. He passed a stake through its body,
fastening the front legs on a cross piece of wood, and stretching the hind
ones along the stake. It bore a strong resemblance to Jesus on the cross,
and was placed in the oven, to be there roasted with the three other lambs
brought from the Temple.

The Paschal Lambs of the Jews were all immolated in the vestibule of the
Temple, but in different parts, according as the persons who were to eat
them were rich, or poor, or Strangers. [6] The Paschal Lamb belonging to
Jesus was not immolated in the Temple, but everything else was done strictly
according to the law. Jesus again addressed his disciples, saying that the
lamb was but a figure, that he himself would next day be the true Paschal
Lamb, together with other things which I have forgotten.

When Jesus had finished his instructions concerning the Paschal Lamb and its
signification, the time being come, and Judas also returned, the tables were
set out. The disciples put on travelling dresses which were in the
vestibule, different shoes, a white robe resembling a shirt, and a cloak,
which was short in front and longer behind, their sleeves were large and
turned back, and they girded up their clothes around the waist. Each party
went to their own table; and two sets of disciples in the side rooms, and
our Lord and his Apostles in the supper-room. They held staves in their
hands, and went two and two to the table, where they remained standing, each
in his own place, with the stave resting on his arms, and his hands
upraised.

The table was narrow, and about half a foot higher than the knees of a man;
in shape it resembled a horseshoe, and opposite Jesus, in the inner part of
the half-circle, there was a space left vacant, that the attendants might be
able to set down the dishes. As far as I can remember, John, James the
Greater, and James the Less sat on the right-hand of Jesus; after them
Bartholomew, and then, round the corner, Thomas and Judas Iscariot. Peter,
Andrew, and Thaddeus sat on the left of Jesus; next came Simon, and then
(round the corner) Matthew and Philip.

The Paschal Lamb was placed on a dish in the centre of the table. Its head
rested on its front legs, which were fastened to a cross-stick, its hind
legs being stretched out, and the dish was garnished with garlic. By the
side there was a dish with the Paschal roast meat, then came a plate with
green vegetables balanced against each other, and another plate with small
bundles of bitter herbs, which had the appearance of aromatic herbs.
Opposite Jesus there was also one dish with different herbs, and a second
containing a brown-coloured sauce or beverage. The guests had before them
some round loaves instead of plates, and they used ivory knives.

After the prayer, the major-domo laid the knife for cutting the lamb on the
table before Jesus, who placed a cup of wine before him, and filled six
other cups, each one of which stood between two Apostles. Jesus blessed the
wine and drank, and the Apostles drank two together out of one cup. Then our
Lord proceeded to cut up the lamb; his Apostles presented their pieces of
bread in turn, and each received his share. They ate it in haste, separating
the flesh from the bone, by means of their ivory knives, and the bones were
afterwards burnt. They also ate the garlic and green herbs in haste, dipping
them in the sauce. All this time they remained standing, only leaning
slightly on the backs of their seats. Jesus broke one of the loaves of
unleavened bread, covered up a part of it, and divided the remainder among
his Apostles. Another cup of wine was brought, but Jesus drank not of it:
˜Take this,™ he said,˜and divide it among you, for I will not drink from
henceforth, of the fruit of the vine, until that day when I shall drink it
with you new in the kingdom of my Father™ (Matt. xxvi. 29). When they had
drunk the wine, they sang a hymn; then Jesus prayed or taught, and they
again washed their hands. After this they sat down.

Our Lord cut up another lamb, which was carried to the holy women in one of
the buildings of the court, where they were seated at table. The Apostles
ate some more vegetables and lettuce. The countenance of our Divine Saviour
bore an indescribable expression of serenity and recollection, greater than
I had ever before Seen. He bade the Apostles forget all their cares. The
Blessed Virgin also, as she sat at table with the other women, looked most
placid and calm. When the other women came up, and took hold of her veil to
make her turn round and speak to them, her every movement expressed the
sweetest self-control and placidity of spirit.

At first Jesus conversed lovingly and calmly with his disciples, but after a
while he became grave and sad:˜Amen, Amen, I say to you, that one of you is
about to betray me:™ he said,˜he that dippeth his hand with me in the
dish™ (Matt. xxvi. 21, 23). Jesus was then distributing the lettuce, of
which there was only one dish, to those Apostles who were by his side, and
be had given Judas, who was nearly opposite to him, the office of
distributing it to the others. When Jesus spoke of a traitor, an expression
which filled all the Apostles with fear, he said:˜he that dippeth his hand
with me in the dish,™ which means: I one of the twelve who are eating and
drinking with meone of those with whom I am eating bread.™ He did not
plainly point out Judas to the others by these words; for to dip the hand in
the same dish was an expression used to signify the most friendly and
intimate intercourse. He was desirous, however, to give a warning to Judas,
who was then really dipping his hand in the dish with our Saviour, to
distribute the lettuce. Jesus continued to speak:˜The Son of man indeed
goeth,™ he said,˜as it is written of him: but woe to that man by whom the
Son of man shall be betrayed: It were better for him if that man had not
been born.™

The Apostles were very much troubled, and each one of them exclaimed:˜Lord,
is it I?™ for they were all perfectly aware that they did not entirely
understand his words. Peter leaned towards John, behind Jesus, and made him
a sign to ask our Lord who the traitor was to be, for, having so often been
reproved by our Lord, he trembled lest it should be himself who was referred
to. John was seated at the right hand of Jesus, and as all were leaning on
their left arms, using the right to eat, his head was close to the bosom of
Jesus. He leaned then on his breast and said:˜Lord, who is it?™ I did not
see Jesus say to him with his lips:˜He it is to whom I shall reach bread
dipped.™ I do not know whether he whispered it to him, but John knew it,
when Jesus having dipped the bread, which was covered with lettuce, gave it
tenderly to Judas, who also asked:˜Is it I, Lord?™ Jesus looked at him with
love, and answered him in general terms. Among the Jews, to give˜bread
dipped was a mark of friendship and confidence; Jesus on this occasion gave
Judas the morsel, in order thus to warn him, without making known his guilt
to the others. But the heart of Judas burned with anger, and during the
whole time of the repast, I saw a frightful little figure seated at his
feet, and sometimes ascending to his heart. I did not see John repeat to
Peter what he had learned from Jesus, but he set his fears at rest by a
look.
_________________________________________________________________

[6] She here again explained the manner in which the families assembled
together, and in what numbers. But the writer has forgotten her words.
_________________________________________________________________

MEDITATION VII.

The Washing of the Feet.

THEY arose from table, and whilst they were arranging their clothes, as they
usually did before making their solemn prayer, the major-domo came in with
two servants to take away the table. Jesus, standing in the midst of his
Apostles, spoke to them long, in a most solemn manner. I could not repeat
exactly his whole discourse, but I remember he spoke of his kingdom, of his
going to his Father, of what he, would leave them now that he was about to
be taken away, &c. He also gave them some instructions concerning penance,
the confession of sin, repentance, and justification.

I felt that these instructions referred to the washing of the feet, and I
saw that all the Apostles acknowledged their sins and repented of them, with
the exception of Judas. This discourse was long and solemn. When it was
concluded, Jesus sent John and James the Less to fetch water from the
vestibule, and he told the Apostles to arrange the seats in a half circle.
He went himself into the vestibule, where he girded himself with a towel.
During this time, the Apostles spoke among themselves, and began speculating
as to which of them would be the greatest, for our Lord having expressly
announced that he was about to leave them and that his kingdom was near at
hand, they felt strengthened anew in their idea that he had secret plans,
and that he was referring to some earthly triumph which would be theirs at
the last moment.

Meanwhile Jesus, in the vestibule, told John to take a basin, and James a
pitcher filled with water, with which they followed him into the room, where
the major-domo had placed another empty basin.

Jesus, on returning to his disciples in so humble a manner, addressed them a
few words of reproach on the subject of the dispute which had arisen between
them, and said among other things, that he himself was their servant, and
that they were to sit down, for him to wash their feet. They sat down,
therefore, in the same order as they had sat at table. Jesus went from one
to the other, poured water from the basin which John carried on the feet of
each, and then, taking the end of the towel wherewith he was girded, wiped
them. Most loving and tender was the manner of our Lord while thus humbling
himself at the feet of his Apostles.

Peter, when his turn came, endeavoured through humility to prevent Jesus
from washing his feet:˜Lord,™ he exclaimed,˜dost thou wash my feet?™ Jesus
answered:˜What I do, thou knowest not now, but thou shall know
hereafter.™ It appeared to me that he said to him privately:˜Simon, thou
hast merited for my Father to reveal to thee who I am, whence I come, and
whither I am going, thou alone hast expressly confessed it, therefore upon
thee will I build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against
it. My power will remain with thy successors to the end of the world.™

Jesus showed him to the other Apostles, and said, that when he should be no
more present among them, Peter was to fill his place in their regard. Peter
said:˜Thou shalt never wash my feet!™ Our Lord replied:˜If I wash thee
not, thou shalt have no part with me.™ Then Peter exclaimed:˜Lord, not only
my feet, but also my hands and my head.™ Jesus replied:˜He that is washed,
needeth not but to wash his feet, but is clean wholly. And you are clean,
but not all.™

By these last words he referred to Judas. He had spoken of the washing of
the feet as signifying purification from daily faults, because the feet,
which are continually in contact with the earth, are also continually liable
to be soiled, unless great care is taken.

This washing of the feet was spiritual, and served as a species of
absolution. Peter, in his zeal, saw nothing in it but too great an act of
abasement on the part of his Master; he knew not that to save him Jesus
would the very next day humble himself oven to the ignominious death of the
cross.

When Jesus washed the feet of Judas, it was in the most loving and affecting
manner; he bent his sacred face even on to the feet of the traitor; and in a
low voice bade him now at least enter into himself, for that he had been a
faithless traitor for the last year. Judas appeared to be anxious to pay no
heed whatever to his words, and spoke to John, upon which Peter became
angry, and exclaimed:˜Judas, the Master speaks to thee!™ Then Judas made
our Lord some vague, evasive reply, such as,˜Heaven forbid, Lord!™ The
others had not remarked that Jesus was speaking to Judas, for his words were
uttered in a low voice, in order not to be heard by them, and besides, they
were all engaged in putting on their shoes. Nothing in the whole course of
the Passion grieved Jesus so deeply as the treason of Judas.

Jesus finally washed the feet of John and James.

He then spoke again on the subject of humility, telling them that he that
was the greatest among them war, to be as their servant, and that henceforth
they were to wash one another™s feet. Then he put on his garments, and the
Apostles let down their clothes, which they had girded up before eating the
Paschal Lamb.
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MEDITATION VIII.

Institution of the Holy Eucharist.

By command of our Lord, the major-domo had again laid out the table, which
he had raised a little; then, having placed it once more in the middle of
the room, he stood one urn filled with wine, and another with water
underneath it. Peter and John went into the part of the room near the
hearth, to get the chalice which they had brought from Seraphia™s house, and
which was still wrapped up in its covering. They carried it between them as
if they had been carrying a tabernacle, and placed it on the table before
Jesus. An oval plate stood there, with three fine white azymous loaves,
placed on a piece of linen, by the side of the half loaf which Jesus had set
aside during the Paschal meal, also a jar containing wine and water, and
three boxes, one filled with thick oil, a second with liquid oil, and the
third empty.

In earlier times, it had been the practice for all at table to eat of the
same loaf and drink of the same cup at the end of the meal, thereby to
express their friendship and brotherly love, and to welcome and bid farewell
to each other. I think Scripture must contain something upon this subject.

On the day of the Last Supper, Jesus raised this custom (which had hitherto
been no more than a symbolical and figurative rite) to the dignity of the
holiest of sacraments. One of the charges brought before Caiphas, on
occasion of the treason of Judas, was, that Jesus had introduced a novelty
into the Paschal ceremonies, but Nicodemus proved from Scripture that it was
an ancient practice.

Jesus was seated between Peter and John, the doors were closed, and
everything was done in the most mysterious and imposing manner. When the
chalice was taken out of its covering, Jesus prayed, and spoke to his
Apostles with the utmost solemnity. I saw him giving them an explanation of
the Supper, and of the entire ceremony, and I was forcibly reminded of a
priest teaching others to say Mass.

He then drew a species of shelf with grooves from the board on which the
jars stood, and taking a piece of white linen with which the chalice was
covered, spread it over the board and shelf. I then saw him lift a round
plate, which he placed on this same shelf, off the top of the chalice. He
next took the azymous loaves from beneath the linen with which they were
covered, and placed them before him on the board; then be took out of the
chalice a smaller vase, and ranged the six little glasses on each side of
it. Then he blessed the bread and also the oil, to the best of my belief,
after which he lifted up the paten with the loaves upon it, in his two
hands, raised his eyes, prayed offered, and replaced the paten on the table,
covering it up again. He then took the chalice, had some wine poured into it
by Peter, and some water, which he first blessed, by John, adding to it a
little more water, which he poured into a small spoon, and after this he
blessed the chalice, raised it up with a prayer, made the oblation, and
replaced it on the table.

John and Peter poured some water on his hands, which he held over the plate
on which the azymous loaves had been placed; then he took a little of the
water which had been poured on his hands, in the spoon that be had taken out
of the lower part of the chalice, and poured it on theirs. After this, the
vase was passed round the table, and all the Apostles washed their hands in
it. I do not remember whether this was the precise order in which these
ceremonies were performed; all I know is, that they reminded me in a
striking manner of the holy sacrifice of the Mass.

Meanwhile, our Divine Lord became more and more tender and loving in his
demeanour; he told his Apostles that he was about to give them all that he
had, namely, his entire self, and he looked as though perfectly transformed
by love. I saw him becoming transparent, until he resembled a luminous
shadow. He broke the bread into several pieces, which he laid together on
the paten, and then took a corner of the first piece and dropped it into the
chalice. At the moment when he was doing this, I seemed to see the Blessed
Virgin receiving the Holy Sacrament in a spiritual manner, although she was
not present in the supper-room. I do not know how it was done, but I thought
I saw her enter without touching the ground, and come before our Lord to
receive the Holy Eucharist; after which I saw her no more. Jesus had told
her in the morning, at Bethania, that he would keep the Pasch with her
spiritually, and he had named the hour at which she was to betake herself to
prayer, in order to receive it in spirit.

Again he prayed and taught; his words came forth from his lips like fire and
light, and entered into each of the Apostles, with the exception of Judas.
He took the paten with the pieces of bread (I do not know whether he had
placed it on the chalice) and said:˜Take and eat; this is my Body which is
given for you.™ He stretched forth his right hand as if to bless, and,
whilst he did so, a brilliant light came from him, his words were luminous,
the bread entered the mouths of the Apostles as a brilliant substance, and
light seemed to penetrate and surround them all, Judas alone remaining dark.
Jesus presented the bread first to Peter, next to John [7] and then he made
a sign to Judas to approach. Judas was thus the third who received the
Adorable Sacrament, but the words of our Lord appeared to turn aside from
the mouth of the traitor, and come back to their Divine Author. So perturbed
was I in spirit at this sight, that my feelings cannot be described. Jesus
said to him:˜That which thou dost, do quickly.™ He then administered the
Blessed Sacrament to the other Apostles, who approached two and two.

Jesus raised the chalice by its two handles to a level with his face, and
pronounced the words of consecration. Whilst doing so, he appeared wholly
transfigured, as it were transparent, and as though entirely passing into
what he was going to give his Apostles. He made Peter and John drink from
the chalice which he held in his hand, and then placed it again on the
table. John poured the Divine Blood from the chalice into the smaller
glasses, and Peter presented them to the Apostles, two of whom drank
together out of the same cup. I think, but am not quite certain, that Judas
also partook of the chalice; he did not return to his place, but immediately
left the supper-room, and the other Apostles thought that Jesus had given
him some commission to do. He left without praying or making any
thanksgiving, and hence you may perceive how sinful it is to neglect
returning thanks either after receiving our daily food, or after partaking
of the Life-Giving Bread of Angels. During the entire meal, I had seen a
frightful little figure, with one foot like a dried bone, remaining close to
Judas, but when he had reached the door, I beheld three devils pressing
round him; one entered into his mouth, the second urged him on, and the
third preceded him. It was night, and they seemed to be lighting him, whilst
he hurried onward like a madman.

Our Lord poured a few drops of the Precious Blood remaining in the chalice
into the little vase of which I have already spoken, and then placed his
fingers over the chalice, while Peter and John poured water and wine upon
them. This done, he caused them to drink again from the chalice, and what
remained of its contents was poured into the smaller glasses, and
distributed to the other Apostles. Then Jesus wiped the chalice, put into it
the little vase containing the remainder of the Divine Blood, and placed
over it the paten with the fragments of the consecrated bread, after which
he again put on the cover, wrapped up the chalice, and stood it in the midst
of the six small cups. I saw the Apostles receive in communion these remains
of the Adorable Sacrament, after the Resurrection.

I do not remember seeing our Lord himself eat and drink of the consecrated
elements, neither did I see Melchisedech, when offering the bread and wine,
taste of them himself. It was made known to me why priests partake of them,
although Jesus did not.

Here Sister Emmerich looked suddenly up, and appeared to be listening. Some
explanation was given her on this subject, but the following words were all
that she could repeat to us:˜If the office of distributing it had been
given to angels, they would not have partaken, but if priests did not
partake, the Blessed Eucharist would be lost it is through their
participation that it is preserved.™

There was an indescribable solemnity and order in all the actions of Jesus
during the institution of the Holy Eucharist, and his every movement was
most majestic. I saw the Apostles noting things down in the little rolls of
parchment which they carried on their persons. Several times during the
ceremonies I remarked that they bowed to each other, in the same way that
our priests do.
_________________________________________________________________

[7] She was not certain that the Blessed Sacrament was administered in the
order given above, for on another occasion she had seen John the last to
receive.
_________________________________________________________________

MEDITATION IX.

Private Instructions and Consecrations.

Jesus gave his Apostles some private instructions; he told them how they
were to preserve the Blessed Sacrament in memory of him, even to the end of
the world; he taught them the necessary forms for making use of and
communicating it, and in what manner they were, by degrees, to teach and
publish this mystery; finally he told them when they were to receive what
remained of the consecrated Elements, when to give some to the Blessed
Virgin, and how to consecrate, themselves, after he should have sent them
the Divine Comforter. He then spoke concerning the priesthood, the sacred
unction, and the preparation of the Chrism and Holy Oils. [8] He had there
three boxes, two of which contained a mixture of oil and balm. He taught
them how to make this mixture, what parts of the body were to be anointed
with them, and upon what occasions. I remember, among other things, that he
mentioned a case in which the Holy Eucharist could not be administered;
perhaps what he said had reference to Extreme Unction, for my recollections
on this point are not very clear. He spoke of different kinds of anointing,
and in particular of that of kings, and he said that even wicked kings who
were anointed, derived from it especial powers. He put ointment and oil in
the empty box, and mixed them together, but I cannot say for certain whether
it was at this moment, or at the time of the consecration of the bread, that
he blessed the oil.

I then saw Jesus anoint Peter and John, on whose hands he had already poured
the water which had flowed on his own, and two whom he had given to drink
out of the chalice. Then he laid his hands on their shoulders and heads,
while they, on their part, joined their hands and crossed their thumbs,
bowing down profoundly before himI am not sure whether they did not even
kneel. He anointed the thumb and fore-finger of each of their hands, and
marked a cross on their heads with Chrism. He said also that this would
remain with them unto the end of the world.

James the Less, Andrew, James the Greater, and Bartholomew, were also
consecrated. I saw likewise that on Peter™s bosom he crossed a sort of stole
worn round the neck, whilst on the others he simply placed it crosswise,
from the right shoulder to the left side. I do not know whether this was
done at the time of the institution of the Blessed Sacrament, or only for
the anointing.

I understood that Jesus communicated to them by this unction something
essential and supernatural, beyond my power to describe. He told them that
when they should have received the Holy Spirit they were to consecrate the
bread and wine, and anoint the other Apostles. It was made known to me then
that, on the day of Pentecost, Peter and John imposed their hands upon the
other Apostles, and a week later upon several of the disciples. After the
Resurrection, John gave the Adorable Sacrament for the first time to the
Blessed Virgin. This event was solemnised as a festival among the Apostles.
It is a festival no longer kept in the Church on earth, but I see it
celebrated in the Church triumphant. For the first few days after Pentecost
I saw only Peter and John consecrate the Blessed Eucharist, but after that
the others also consecrated.

Our Lord next proceeded to bless fire in a brass vessel, and care was taken
that it should not go out, but it was kept near the spot where the Blessed
Sacrament had been deposited, in one division of the ancient Paschal hearth,
and fire was always taken from it when needed for spiritual purposes.

All that Jesus did upon this occasion was done in private, and taught
equally in private. The Church has retained all that was essential of these
secret instructions, and, under the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, developed
and adapted them to all her requirements.

Whether Peter and John were both consecrated bishops, or Peter alone as
bishop and John as priest, or to what dignity the other four Apostles were
raised, I cannot pretend to say. But the different ways in which our Lord
arranged the Apostles™ stoles appear to indicate different degrees of
consecration.

When these holy ceremonies were concluded, the chalice (near which the
blessed Chrism also stood) was re-covered, and the Adorable Sacrament
carried by Peter and John into the back part of the room, which was divided
off by a curtain, and from thenceforth became the Sanctuary. The spot where
the Blessed Sacrament was deposited was not very far above the Paschal
stove. Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus took care of the Sanctuary and of
the supper-room during the absence of the Apostles.

Jesus again instructed his Apostles for a considerable length of time, and
also prayed several times. He frequently appeared to be conversing with his
Heavenly Father, and to be overflowing with enthusiasm and love. The
Apostles also were full of joy and zeal, and asked him various questions
which he forthwith answered. The scriptures must contain much of this last
discourse and conversation. He told Peter and John different things to be
made known later to the other Apostles, who in their turn were to
communicate them to the disciples and holy women, according to the capacity
of each for such knowledge. He had a private conversation with John, whom he
told that his life would be longer than the lives of the others. He spoke to
him also concerning seven Churches, some crowns and angels, and instructed
him in the meaning of certain mysterious figures, which signified, to the
beat of my belief, different epochs. The other Apostles were slightly
jealous of this confidential communication being made to John.

Jesus spoke also of the traitor.˜Now he is doing this or that,™ he said,
and I, in fact, saw Judas doing exactly as he said of him. As Peter was
vehemently protesting that he would always remain faithful, our Lord said to
him:˜Simon, Simon, behold Satan hath desired to have you that he may sift
you as wheat. But I have prayed for thee that thy faith fail not: and thou
being once converted, confirm thy brethren.™

Again, our Lord said, that whither he was going they could not follow him,
when Peter exclaimed:˜Lord, I am ready to go with thee both into prison and
to death.™ And Jesus replied:˜Amen, amen, I say to thee, Before the cock
crow twice, thou shalt deny me thrice.™

Jesus, while making known to his Apostles that trying times were at hand for
them, said:˜When I sent you without purse, or scrip, or shoes, did you want
anything?™ They answered:˜Nothing.™˜But now,™ he continued,˜he that hath
a purse let him take it, and likewise a scrip, and he that hath not, let him
sell his coat and buy a sword. For I say to you, that this that is written
must yet be fulfilled in me: AND WITH THE WICKED WAS HE BECKONED. For the
things concerning me have an end.™ The Apostles only understood his words in
a carnal sense, and Peter showed him two swords, which were short and thick,
like cleavers. Jesus said:˜It is enough: let us go hence.™ Then they sang
the thanksgiving hymn, put the table on one side, and went into the
vestibule.

There, Jesus found his Mother, Mary of Cleophas, and Magdalen, who earnestly
besought him not to go to Mount Olivet, for a report had spread that his
enemies were seeking to lay hands on him. But Jesus comforted them in few
words, and hastened onwardit being then about nine o™clock. They went down
the road by which Peter and John had come to the supper-room, and directed
their steps towards Mount Olivet.

I have always seen the Pasch and the institution of the Blessed Sacrament
take place in the order related above. But my feelings were each time so
strongly excited and my emotion so great, that I could not give much
attention to all the details, but now I have seen them more distinctly. No
words can describe how painful and exhausting is such a sight as that of
beholding the hidden recesses of hearts, the love and constancy of our
Saviour, and to know at the same time all that is going to befall him. How
would it be possible to observe all that is merely external! the heart is
overflowing with admiration, gratitude, and lovethe blindness of men seems
perfectly incomprehensibleand the soul is overwhelmed with sorrow at the
thought of the ingratitude of the whole world, and of her own sins 1

The eating of the Paschal Lamb was performed by Jesus rapidly, and in entire
conformity with all the legal ordinances. The Pharisees were in the habit of
adding some minute and superstitious ceremonies.
_________________________________________________________________

[8] It was not without surprise that the editor, some years after these
things had been related by Sister Emmerich, read, in the Latin edition of
the Roman Catechism (Mayence, Muller), in reference to the Sacrament of
Confirmation, that, according to the tradition of the holy Pope Fabian,
Jesus taught his Apostles in what manner they were to prepare the Holy
Chrism, after the institution of the Blessed Sacrament. The Pope says
expressly, in the 54th paragraph of his Second Epistle to the Bishops of the
East:˜Our predecessors received from the Apostles and delivered to us that
our Saviour Jesus Christ, after having made the Last Supper with his
Apostles and washed their feet, taught them how to prepare the Holy
Chrism.™
_________________________________________________________________

THE PASSION.

˜If thou knowest not how to meditate on high and heavenly things, rest on
the Passion of Christ, and willingly dwell in his sacred wounds. For, if
thou fly devoutly to the wounds and precious stigmas of Jesus, thou shalt
feel great comfort in tribulation.™ Imit. of Christ, book ii. chap. 1.
_________________________________________________________________

INTRODUCTION.

ON the evening of the 18th of February, 1823, a friend of Sister Emmerich
went up to the bed, where she was lying apparently asleep; and being much
struck by the beautiful and mournful expression of her countenance, felt
himself inwardly inspired to raise his heart fervently to God, and offer the
Passion of Christ to the Eternal Father, in union with the sufferings of all
those who have carried their cross after him. While making this short
prayer, he chanced to fix his eyes for a moment upon the stigmatised hands
of Sister Emmerich. She immediately hid them under the counterpane, starting
as if some one had given her a blow. He felt surprised at this, and asked
her,˜What has happened to you?™˜Many things,™ she answered, in an
expressive tone. Whilst he was considering what her meaning could be, she
appeared to be asleep. At the end of about a quarter of an hour, she
suddenly started up with all the eagerness of a person having a violent
struggle with another, stretched out both her arms, clenching her hand, as
if to repel an enemy standing on the left side of her bed, and exclaimed in
an indignant voice:˜What do you mean by this contract of Magdalum?™ Then
she continued to speak with the warmth of a person who is being questioned
during a quarrel˜Yes, it is that accursed spiritthe liar from the
beginningSatan, who is reproaching him about the Magdalum contract, and
other things of the same nature, and says that he spent all that money upon
himself.™ When asked,˜Who has spent money? Who is being spoken to in that
way?™ she replied,˜Jesus, my adorable Spouse, on Mount Olivet.™ Then she
again turned to the left, with menacing gestures, and exclaimed,˜What
meanest thou, O father of lies, with thy Magdalum contract? Did he not
deliver twenty-seven poor prisoners at Thirza, with the money derived from
the sale of Magdalum? I saw him, and thou darest to say that he has brought
confusion into the whole estate, driven out its inhabitants, and squandered
the money for which it was sold? But thy time is come, accursed spirit! thou
wilt be chained, and his heel will crush thy head.™

Here she was interrupted by the entrance of another person; her friends
thought that she was in delirium, and pitied her. The following morning she
owned that the previous night she had imagined herself to be following our
Saviour to the Garden of Olives, after the institution of the Blessed
Eucharist, but that just at that moment some one having looked at the
stigmas on her hands with a degree of veneration, she felt so horrified at
this being done in the presence of our Lord, that she hastily hid them, with
a feeling of pain. She then related her vision of what took place in the
Garden of Olives, and as she continued her narrations the following days,
the friend who was listening to her was enabled to connect the different
scenes of the Passion together. But as, during Lent, she was also
celebrating the combats of our Lord with Satan in the desert, she had to
endure in her own person many sufferings and temptations. Hence there were a
few pauses in the history of the Passion, which were, however, easily filled
up by means of some later communications.

She usually spoke in common German, but when in a state of ecstasy, her
language became much purer, and her narrations partook at once of child-like
simplicity and dignified inspiration. Her friend wrote down all that she had
said, directly he returned to his own apartments; for it was seldom that he
could so much as even take notes in her presence. The Giver of all good
gifts bestowed upon him memory, zeal, and strength to bear much trouble and
fatigue, so that he has been enabled to bring this work to a conclusion. His
conscience tells him that be has done his best, and he humbly begs the
reader, if satisfied with the result of his labours, to bestow upon him the
alms of an occasional prayer.
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CHAPTER I.

Jesus in the Garden of Olives.

WHEN Jesus left the supper-room with the eleven Apostles, after the
institution of the Adorable Sacrament of the Altar, his soul was deeply
oppressed and his sorrow on the increase. He led the eleven, by an
unfrequented path, to the Valley of Josaphat. As they left the house, I saw
the moon, which was not yet quite at the full, rising in front of the
mountain.

Our Divine Lord, as he wandered with his Apostles about the valley, told
them that here he should one day return to judge the world, but not in a
state of poverty and humiliation, as he then was, and that men would tremble
with fear, and cry:˜Mountains, fall upon us!™ His disciples did not
understand him, and thought, by no means for the first time that night, that
weakness and exhaustion had affected his brain. He said to them again:˜All
you shall be scandalised in me this night. For it is written: I WILL STRIKE
THE SHEPHERD, AND THE SHEEP OF THE FLOCK SHALL BE DISPERSED. But after I
shall be risen again, I will go before you into Galilee.™

The Apostles were still in some degree animated by the spirit of enthusiasm
and devotion with which their reception of the Blessed Sacrament and the
solemn and affecting words of Jesus had inspired them. They eagerly crowded
round him, and expressed their love in a thousand different ways, earnestly
protesting that they would never abandon him. But as Jesus continued to talk
in the same strain, Peter exclaimed:˜Although all shall be scandalised in
thee, I will never be scandalised!™ and our Lord answered him:˜Amen, I say
to thee, that in this night, before the cock crow, thou wilt deny me
thrice.™ But Peter still insisted, saying:˜Yea, though I should die with
thee, I will not deny thee.™ And the others all said the same. They walked
onward and stopped, by turns, for the sadness of our Divine Lord continued
to increase. The Apostles tried to comfort him by human arguments, assuring
him that what he foresaw would not come to pass. They tired themselves in
these vain efforts, began to doubt, and were assailed by temptation.

They crossed the brook Cedron, not by the bridge where, a few hours later,
Jesus was taken prisoner, but by another, for they had left the direct road.
Gethsemani, whither they were going, was about a mile and a half distant
from the supper-hall, for it was three quarters of a mile from the
supper-hall to the Valley of Josaphat, and about as far from thence to
Gethsemani. The place called Gethsemani (where latterly Jesus had several
times passed the night with his disciples) was a large garden, surrounded by
a hedge, and containing only some fruit trees and flowers, while outside
there stood a few deserted unclosed buildings.

The Apostles and several other persons had keys of this garden, which was
used sometimes as a pleasure ground, and sometimes as a place of retirement
for prayer. Some arbours made of leaves and branches had been raised there,
and eight of the Apostles remained in them, and were later joined by others
of the disciples. The Garden of Olives was separated by a road from that of
Gethsemani, and was open. Surrounded only by an earthern wall, and smaller
than the Garden of Gethsemani. There were caverns, terraces, and many
olive-trees to be seen in this garden, and it was easy to find there a
suitable spot for prayer and meditation. It was to the wildest part that
Jesus went to pray.

It was about nine o™clock when Jesus reached Gethsemani with his disciples.
The moon had risen, and already gave light in the sky, although the earth
was still dark. Jesus was most sorrowful, and told his Apostles that danger
was at hand. The disciples felt uneasy, and he told eight of those who were
following him, to remain in the Garden of Gethsemani whilst he went on to
pray. He took with him Peter, James, and John, and going on a little
further, entered into the Garden of Olives. No words can describe the sorrow
which then oppressed his soul, for the time of trial was near. John asked
him how it was that he, who had hitherto always consoled them, could now be
so dejected˜My soul is sorrowful even unto death,™ was his reply. And he
beheld sufferings and temptations surrounding him on all sides, and drawing
nearer and nearer, under the forms of frightful figures borne on clouds.
Then it was that he said to the three Apostles:˜Stay you here and watch
with me. Pray, lest ye enter into temptation.™ Jesus went a few steps to the
left, down a hill, and concealed himself beneath a rock, in a grotto about
six feet deep, while the Apostles remained in, a species of hollow above.
The earth sank gradually the further you entered this grotto, and the plants
which were hanging from the rock screened its interior like a curtain from
persons outside.

When Jesus left his disciples, I saw a number of frightful figures
surrounding him in an ever-narrowing circle.

His sorrow and anguish of soul continued to increase, and he was trembling
all over when he entered the grotto to pray, like a wayworn traveller
hurriedly seeking shelter from a sudden storm, but the awful visions pursued
him even there, and became more and more clear and distinct. Alas! this
small cavern appeared to contain the awful picture of all the sins which had
been or were to be committed from the fall of Adam to the end of the world,
and of the punishment which they deserved. It was here, on Mount Olivet,
that Adam and Eve took refuge when driven out of Paradise to wander homeless
on earth, and they had wept and bewailed themselves in this very grotto.

I felt that Jesus, in delivering himself up to Divine Justice in
satisfaction for the sins of the world, caused his divinity to return, in
some sort, into the bosom of the Holy Trinity, concentrated himself, so to
speak, in his pure, loving and innocent humanity, and strong only in his
ineffable love, gave it up to anguish and suffering.

He fell on his face, overwhelmed with unspeakable sorrow, and all the sins
of the world displayed themselves before him, under countless forms and in
all their real deformity. He took them all upon himself, and in his prayer
offered his own adorable Person to the justice of his Heavenly Father, in
payment for so awful a debt. But Satan, who was enthroned amid all these
horrors, and even filled with diabolical joy at the sight of them, let loose
his fury against Jesus, and displayed before the eyes of his soul increasing
awful visions, at the same time addressing his adorable humanity in words
such as these:˜Takest thou even this sin upon thyself? Art thou willing to
bear its penalty? Art thou prepared to satisfy for all these sins?™

And now a long ray of light, like a luminous path. in the air, descended
from Heaven; it was a procession of angels who came up to Jesus and
strengthened and reinvigorated him. The remainder of the grotto was filled
with frightful visions of our crimes; Jesus took them all upon himself, but
that adorable Heart, which was so filled with the most perfect love for God
and man, was flooded with anguish, and overwhelmed beneath the weight of so
many abominable crimes. When this huge mass of iniquities, like the waves of
a fathomless ocean, had passed over his soul, Satan brought forward
innumerable temptations, as he had formerly done in the desert, even daring
to adduce various accusations against him.˜And takest thou all these things
upon thyself,™ he exclaimed,˜thou who art not unspotted thyself?™ Then he
laid to the charge of our Lord, with infernal impudence, a host of imaginary
crimes. He reproached him with the faults of his disciples, the scandals
which they had caused, and the disturbances which he had occasioned in the
world by giving up ancient customs. No Pharisee, however wily and severe,
could have surpassed Satan on this occasion; he reproached Jesus with having
been the cause of the massacre of the Innocents, as well as of the
sufferings of his parents in Egypt, with not having saved John the Baptist
from death, with having brought disunion into families, protected men of
despicable character, refused to cure various sick persons, injured the
inhabitants of Gergesa by permitting men possessed by the devil to overturn
their vats, [9] and demons to make swine cast themselves into the sea; with
having deserted his family, and squandered the property of others; in one
word Satan, in the hopes of causing Jesus to waver, suggested to him every
thought by which he would have tempted at the hour of death an ordinary
mortal who might have performed all these actions without a superhuman
intention; for it was hidden from him that Jesus was the Son of God, and he
tempted him only as the most just of men. Our Divine Saviour permitted his
humanity thus to preponderate over his divinity, for he was pleased to
endure even those temptations with which holy souls are assailed at the hour
of death concerning the merit of their good works. That he might drink the
chalice of suffering even to the dregs, he permitted the evil spirit to
tempt his sacred humanity, as he would have tempted a man who should wish to
attribute to his good works some special value in themselves, over and above
what they might have by their union with the merits of our Saviour. There
was not an action out of which he did not contrive to frame some accusation,
and he reproached Jesus, among other things, with having spent the price of
the property of Mary Magdalen at Magdalum, which he had received from
Lazarus.

Among the sins of the world which Jesus took upon himself, I saw also my
own; and a stream, in which I distinctly beheld each of my faults, appeared
to flow towards me from out of the temptations with which he was encircled.
During this time my eyes were fixed upon my Heavenly Spouse; with him I wept
and prayed, and with him I turned towards. the consoling angels. Ah, truly
did our ear Lord writhe like a worm beneath the weight of his anguish and
sufferings!

Whilst Satan was pouring forth his accusations against Jesus, it was with
difficulty that I could restrain my indignation, but when he spoke of the
sale of Magdalen™s property, I could no longer keep silence, and exclaimed:
˜How canst thou reproach him with the sale of this property as with a crime!
Did I not myself see our Lord spend the sum which was given him by Lazarus
in works of mercy, and deliver twenty-eight debtors imprisoned at Thirza?™

At first Jesus looked calm, as he kneeled down and prayed, but after a time
his soul became terrified at the sight of the innumerable crimes of men, and
of their ingratitude towards God, and his anguish was so great that he
trembled and shuddered as he exclaimed:˜Father, if it is possible, let this
chalice pass from me! Father, all things are possible to thee, remove this
chalice from me!™ But the next moment he added:˜Nevertheless, not my will
but thine be done.™ His will and that of his Father were one, but now that
his love had ordained that he should be left to all the weakness of his
human nature, he trembled at the prospect of death.

I saw the cavern in which he was kneeling filled with frightful figures; I
saw all the sins, wickedness, vices, and ingratitude of mankind torturing
and crushing him to the earth; the horror of death and terror which he felt
as man at the sight of the expiatory sufferings about to come upon him,
surrounded and assailed his Divine Person under the forms of hideous
spectres. He fell from side to side, clasping his hands; his body was
covered with a cold sweat, and he trembled and shuddered. He then arose, but
his knees were shaking and apparently scarcely able to support him; his
countenance was pale, and quite altered in appearance, his lips white, and
his hair standing on end. It was about half-past ten o™clock when he arose
from his knees, and, bathed in a cold sweat, directed his trembling, weak
footsteps towards his three Apostles. With difficulty did he ascend the left
side of the cavern, and reach a spot where the ground was level, and where
they were sleeping, exhausted with fatigue, sorrow and anxiety. He came to
them, like a man overwhelmed with bitter sorrow, whom terror urges to seek
his friends, but like also to a good shepherd, who, when warned of the
approach of danger, hastens to visit his flock, the safety of which is
threatened; for he well knew that they also were being tried by suffering
and temptation. The terrible visions never left him, even while he was thus
seeking his disciples. When he found that they were asleep, he clasped his
hands and fell down on his knees beside them, overcome with sorrow and
anxiety, and said:˜Simon, sleepest thou?™ They awoke, and raised him up,
and he, in his desolation of spirit, said to them:˜What? could you not
watch one hour with me?™ When they looked at him, and saw him pale and
exhausted, scarcely able to support himself, bathed in sweat, trembling and
shuddering,when they heard how changed and almost inaudible his voice had
become, they did not know what to think, and had he not been still
surrounded by a well-known halo of light, they would never have recognised
him as Jesus. John said to him:˜Master, what has befallen thee? Must I call
the other disciples? Ought we to take to flight?™ Jesus answered him:˜Were
I to live, teach, and perform miracles for thirty-three years longer, that
would not suffice for the accomplishment of what must be fulfilled before
this time to-morrow.

not the eight; I did not bring them hither, because they could not see me
thus agonising without being scandalised; they would yield to temptation,
forget much of the past, and lose their confidence in me. But you, who have
seen the Son of Man transfigured, may also see him under a cloud, and in
dereliction of spirit; nevertheless, watch and pray, lest ye fall into
temptation, for the spirit indeed is willing, but the flesh is weak.™

By these words he sought at once to encourage them to persevere, and to make
known to them the combat which his human nature was sustaining against
death, together with the cause of his weakness. In his overwhelming sorrow,
he remained with them nearly a quarter of an hour, and spoke to them again.
He then returned to the grotto, his mental sufferings being still on the
increase, while his disciples, on their part, stretched forth their hands
towards him, wept, and embraced each other, asking,˜What can it be? What is
happening to him? He appears to be in a state of complete desolation.™ After
this, they covered their heads, and began to pray, sorrowfully and
anxiously.

About an hour and a half had passed since Jesus entered the Garden of
Olives. It is true that Scripture tells us he said,˜Could you not watch one
hour with me?™ but his words should not be taken literally, nor according to
our way of counting time. The three Apostles who were with Jesus had prayed
at first, but then they had fallen asleep, for temptation had come upon them
by reason of their want of trust in God. The other eight, who had remained
outside the garden, did not sleep, for our Lord™s last words, so expressive
of suffering and sadness, had filled their hearts with sinister forebodings,
and they wandered about Mount Olivet, trying to find some place of refuge in
case of danger.

The town of Jerusalem was very quiet; the Jews were in their houses, engaged
in preparing for the feast, but I saw, here and there, some of the friends
and disciples of Jesus walking to and fro, with anxious countenances,
convening earnestly together, and evidently expecting some great event. The
Mother of our Lord, Magdalen, Martha, Mary of Cleophas, Mary Salome, and
Salome had gone from the supper-hall to the house of Mary, the mother of
Mark. Mary was alarmed at the reports which were spreading, and wished to
return to the town with her friends, in order to hear something of Jesus.
Lazarus, Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and some relations from Hebron,
came to see and endeavour to tranquillise her, for, as they were aware,
either from their own knowledge or from what the disciples had told them, of
the mournful predictions which Jesus had made in the supper-room, they had
made inquiries of some Pharisees of their acquaintance, and had not been
able to hear that any conspiracy was on foot for the time against our Lord.
Being utterly ignorant of the treason of Judas, they assured Mary that the
danger could not yet be very great, and that the enemies of Jesus would not
make any attempts upon his person, at least until the festival was over.
Mary told them how restless and disturbed in mind Judas had latterly
appeared, and how abruptly he had left the supper-room. She felt no doubt of
his having gone to betray our Lord, for she had often warned him that he was
a son of perdition. The holy women then returned to the house of Mary, the
mother of Mark.

When Jesus, unrelieved of all the weight of his sufferings, returned to the
grotto, he fell prostrate, with his face on the ground and his arms
extended, and prayed to his Eternal Father; but his soul had to sustain a
second interior combat, which lasted three-quarters of an hour. Angels came
and showed him, in a series of visions, all the sufferings that he was to
endure in order to expiate sin; how great was the beauty of man, the image
of God, before the fall, and how that beauty was changed and obliterated
when sin entered the world. He beheld how all sins originated in that of
Adam, the signification and essence of concupiscence, its terrible effects
on the powers of the soul, and likewise the signification and essence of all
the sufferings entailed by concupiscence. They showed him the satisfaction
which he would have to offer to Divine Justice, and how it would consist of
a degree of suffering in his soul and body which would comprehend all the
sufferings due to the concupiscence of all mankind, since the debt of the
whole human race had to be paid by that humanity which alone was sinlessthe
humanity of the Son of God. The angels showed him all these things under
different forms, and I felt what they were saying, although I heard no
voice. No tongue can describe what anguish and what horror overwhelmed the
soul of Jesus at the sight of so terrible an expiationhis sufferings were
so great, indeed, that a bloody sweat issued forth from all the pores of his
sacred body.

Whilst the adorable humanity of Christ was thus crushed to the earth beneath
this awful weight of suffering, the angels appeared filled with compassion;
there was a pause, and I perceived that they were earnestly desiring to
console him, and praying to that effect before the throne of God. For one
instant there appeared to be, as it were, a struggle between the mercy and
justice of God and that love which was sacrificing itself. I was permitted
to see an image of God, not, as before, seated on a throne, but under a
luminous form. I beheld the divine nature of the Son in the Person of the
Father, and, as it were, withdrawn into his bosom; the Person of the Holy
Ghost proceeded from the Father and the Son, it was, so to speak, between
them, and yet the whole formed only one Godbut these things are
indescribable.

All this was more an inward perception than a vision under distinct forms,
and it appeared to me that the Divine Will of our Lord withdrew in some sort
into the Eternal Father, in order to permit all those sufferings which his
human will besought his Father to spare him, to weigh upon his humanity
alone. I saw this at the time when the angels, filled with compassion, were
desiring to console Jesus, who, in fact, was slightly relieved at that
moment. Then all disappeared, and the angels retired from our Lord, whose
soul was about to sustain fresh assaults.

When our Redeemer, on Mount Olivet, was pleased to experience and overcome
that violent repugnance of human nature to suffering and death which
constitutes a portion of all sufferings, the tempter was permitted to do to
him what he does to all men who desire to sacrifice themselves in a holy
cause. In the first portion of the agony, Satan displayed before the eyes of
our Lord the enormity of that debt of sin which he was going to pay, and was
even bold and malicious enough to seek faults in the very works of our
Saviour himself. In the second agony, Jesus beheld, to its fullest extent
and in all its bitterness, the expiatory suffering which would be required
to satisfy Divine Justice. This was displayed to him by angels; for it
belongs not to Satan to show that expiation is possible, and the father of
lies and despair never exhibits the works of Divine Mercy before men. Jesus
having victoriously resisted all these assaults by his entire and absolute
submission to the will of his Heavenly Father, a succession of new and
terrifying visions were presented before his eyes, and that feeling of doubt
and anxiety which a man on the point of making some great sacrifice always
experiences, arose in the soul of our Lord, as he asked himself the
tremendous question:˜And what good will result from this sacrifice?™ Then a
most awful picture of the future was displayed before his eyes and
overwhelmed his tender heart with anguish.

When God had created the first Adam, he cast a deep sleep upon him, opened
his side, and took one of his ribs, of which he made Eve, his wife and the
mother of all the living. Then he brought her to Adam, who exclaimed:˜This
now is bone of my bones, and flesh of my flesh. . . . Wherefore a man shall
leave father and mother, and shall cleave to his wife, and they shall be two
in one flesh.™ That was the marriage of which it is written:˜This is a
great Sacrament, I speak in Christ and in the Church.™ Jesus Christ, the
second Adam, was pleased also to let sleep come upon himthe sleep of death
on the cross, and he was also pleased to let his side be opened, in order
that the second Eve, his virgin Spouse, the Church, the mother of all the
living, might be formed from it, It was his will to give her the blood of
redemption, the water of purification, and his spiritthe three which render
testimony on earthand to bestow upon her also the holy Sacraments, in order
that she might be pure, holy, and undefiled; he was to be her head, and we
were to be her members, under submission to the head, the bone of his bones,
and the flesh of his flesh. In taking human nature, that he might suffer
death for us, he had also left his Eternal Father, to cleave to his Spouse,
the Church, and he became one flesh with her, by feeding her with the
Adorable Sacrament of the Altar, in which he unites himself unceasingly with
us. He has been pleased to remain on earth with his Church, until we shall
all be united together by him within her fold, and he has said:˜The gates
of hell shall never prevail against her.™ To satisfy his unspeakable love
for sinners, our Lord had become man and a brother of these same sinners,
that so he might take upon himself the punishment due to all their crimes.
He had contemplated with deep sorrow the greatness of this debt and the
unspeakable sufferings by which it was to be acquitted. Yet he had most
joyfully given himself up to the will of his Heavenly Father as a victim of
expiation. Now, however, he beheld all the future sufferings, combats, and
wounds of his heavenly Spouse; in one word, he beheld the ingratitude of
men.

The soul of Jesus beheld all the future sufferings of his Apostles,
disciples, and friends; after which he saw the primitive Church, numbering
but few souls in her fold at first, and then in proportion as her numbers
increased, disturbed by heresies and schisms breaking out among her
children, who repeated the sin of Adam by pride and disobedience. He saw the
tepidity, malice, and corruption of an infinite number of Christians, the
lies and deceptions of proud teachers, all the sacrileges of wicked priests,
the fatal consequences of each sin, and the abomination of desolation in the
kingdom of God, in the sanctuary of those ungrateful human beings whom he
was about to redeem with his blood at the cost of unspeakable sufferings.

The scandals of all ages, down to the present day and even to the end of the
worldevery species of error, deception, mad fanaticism, obstinacy, and
malicewere displayed before his eyes, and he beheld, as it were floating
before him, all the apostates, heresiarchs, and pretended reformers, who
deceive men by an appearance of sanctity. The corrupters and the corrupted
of all ages outraged and tormented him for not having been crucified after
their fashion, or for not having suffered precisely as they settled or
imagined he should have done. They vied with each other in tearing the
seamless robe of his Church; many ill-treated, insulted, and denied him, and
many turned contemptuously away, shaking their heads at him, avoiding his
compassionate embrace, and hurrying on to the abyss where they were finally
swallowed up. He saw countless numbers of other men who did not dare openly
to deny him, but who passed on in disgust at the sight of the wounds of his
Church, as the Levite passed by the poor man who had fallen among robbers.
Like unto cowardly and faithless children, who desert their mother in the
middle of the night, at the sight of the thieves and robbers to whom their
negligence or their malice has opened the door, they fled from his wounded
Spouse. He beheld all these men, sometimes separated from the True Vine, and
taking their rest amid the wild fruit trees, sometimes like lost sheep, left
to the mercy of the wolves, led by base hirelings into bad pasturages, and
refusing to enter the fold of the Good Shepherd who gave his life for his
sheep. They were wandering homeless in the desert in the midst of the sand
blown about by the wind, and were obstinately determined not to see his City
placed upon a hill, which could not be hidden, the House of his Spouse, his
Church built upon a rock, and with which he had promised to remain to the
end of ages. They built upon the sand wretched tenements, which they were
continually pulling down and rebuilding, but in which there was neither
altar nor sacrifice; they had weathercocks on their roofs, and their
doctrines changed with the wind, consequently they were for ever in
opposition one with the other. They never could come to a mutual
understanding, and were for ever unsettled, often destroying their own
dwellings and hurling the fragments against the Corner-Stone of the Church,
which always remained unshaken.

As there was nothing but darkness in the dwellings of these men, many among
them, instead of directing their steps towards the Candle placed on the
Candlestick in the House of the Spouse of Christ, wandered with closed eyes
around the gardens of the Church, sustaining life only by inhaling the sweet
odours which were diffused from them far and near, stretching forth their
hands towards shadowy idols, and following wandering stars which led them to
wells where there was no water. Even when on the very brink of the
precipice, they refused to listen to the voice of the Spouse calling them,
and, though dying with hunger, derided, insulted, and mocked at those
servants and messengers who were sent to invite them to the Nuptial Feast.
They obstinately refused to enter the garden, because they feared the thorns
of the hedge, although they had neither wheat with which to satisfy their
hunger nor wine to quench their thirst, but were simply intoxicated with
pride and self-esteem, and being blinded by their own false lights,
persisted in asserting that the Church of the Word made flesh was invisible.
Jesus beheld them all, he wept over them, and was pleased to suffer for all
those who do not see him and who will not carry their crosses after him in
his City built upon a hillhis Church founded upon a rock, to which he has
given himself in the Holy Eucharist, and against which the gates of Hell
will never prevail.

Bearing a prominent place in these mournful visions which were beheld by the
soul of Jesus, I saw Satan, who dragged away and strangled a multitude of
men redeemed by the blood of Christ and sanctified by the unction of his
Sacrament. Our Divine Saviour beheld with bitterest anguish the ingratitude
and corruption of the Christians of the first and of all succeeding ages,
even to the end of the world, and during the whole of this time the voice of
the tempter was incessantly repeating:˜Canst thou resolve to suffer for
such ungrateful reprobates?™ while the various apparitions succeeded each
other with intense rapidity, and so violently weighed down and crushed the
soul of Jesus, that his sacred humanity was overwhelmed with unspeakable
anguish. Jesusthe Anointed of the Lordthe Son of Manstruggled and writhed
as he fell on his knees, with clasped hands, as it were annihilated beneath
the weight of his suffering. So violent was the struggle which then took
place between his human will and his repugnance to suffer so much for such
an ungrateful race, that from every pore of his sacred body there burst
forth large drops of blood, which fell trickling on to the ground. In his
bitter agony, he looked around, as though seeking help, and appeared to take
Heaven, earth, and the stars of the firmament to witness of his sufferings.

Jesus, in his anguish of spirit, raised his voice, and gave utterance to
several cries of pain. The three Apostles awoke, listened, and were desirous
of approaching him, but Peter detained James and John, saying:˜Stay you
here; I will join him.™ Then I saw Peter hastily run forward and enter the
grotto.˜Master,™ he exclaimed,˜what has befallen thee?™ But at the sight
of Jesus, thus bathed in his own blood, and sinking to the ground beneath
the weight of mortal fear and anguish, he drew back, and paused for a
moment, overcome with terror. Jesus made him no answer, and appeared
unconscious of his presence. Peter returned to the other two, and told them
that the Lord had not answered him except by groans and sighs. They became
more and more sorrowful after this, covered their heads, and sat down to
weep and pray.

I then returned to my Heavenly Spouse in his most bitter agony. The
frightful visions of the future ingratitude of the men whose debt to Divine
Justice he was taking upon himself, continued to become more and more vivid
and tremendous. Several times I heard him exclaim:˜O my Father, can I
possibly suffer for so ungrateful a race? O my Father, if this chalice may
not pass from me, but I must drink it, thy will be done!™

Amid all these apparitions, Satan held a conspicuous place, under various
forms, which represented different species of sins. Sometimes he appeared
under the form of a gigantic black figure, sometimes under those of a tiger,
a fox, a wolf, a dragon, or a serpent. Not, however, that he really took any
of these shapes, but merely some one of their characteristics, joined with
other hideous forms. None of these frightful apparitions entirely resembled
any creature, but were symbols of abomination, discord, contradiction, and
sinin one word, were demoniacal to the fullest extent. These diabolical
figures urged on, dragged, and tore to pieces, before the very eyes of
Jesus, countless numbers of those men for whose redemption he was entering
upon the painful way of the Cross. At first I but seldom saw the serpent;
soon, however, it made its appearance, with a crown upon its head. This
odious reptile was of gigantic size, apparently possessed of unbounded
strength, and led forward countless legions of the enemies of Jesus in every
age and of every nation. Being armed with all kinds of destructive weapons,
they sometimes tore one another in pieces, and then renewed their attacks
upon our Saviour with redoubled rage. It was indeed an awful eight; for they
heaped upon him the most fearful outrages, cursing, striking, wounding, and
tearing him in pieces. Their weapons, swords, and spears flew about in the
air, crossing and recrossing continually in all directions, like the flails
of threshers in an immense barn; and the rage of each of these fiends seemed
exclusively directed against Jesusthat grain of heavenly wheat descended to
the earth to die there, in order to feed men eternally with the Bread of
Life.

Thus exposed to the fury of these hellish bands, some of which appeared to
me wholly composed of blind men, Jesus was as much wounded and bruised as if
their blows had been real. I saw him stagger from side to side, sometimes
raising himself up, and sometimes falling again, while the serpent, in the
midst of the crowds whom it was unceasingly leading forward against Jesus,
struck the ground with its tail, and tore to pieces or swallowed all whom it
thus knocked to the ground It was made known to me that these apparitions
were all those persons who in divers ways insult and outrage Jesus, really
and truly present in the Holy Sacrament. I recognised among them all those
who in any way profane the Blessed Eucharist. I beheld with horror all the
outrages thus offered to our Lord, whether by neglect, irreverence, and
omission of what was due to him; by open contempt, abuse, and the most awful
sacrileges; by the worship of worldly idols; by spiritual darkness and false
knowledge; or, finally, by error, incredulity, fanaticism, hatred, and open
persecution. Among these men I saw many who were blind, paralysed, deaf, and
dumb, and even children;blind men who would not see the truth; paralytic
men who would not advance, according to its directions, on the road leading
to eternal life; deaf men who refused to listen to its warnings and threats;
dumb men who would never use their voices in its defence; and, finally,
children who were led astray by following parents and teachers filled with
the love of the world and forgetfulness of God, who were fed on earthly
luxuries, drunk with false wisdom, and loathing all that pertained to
religion. Among the latter, the sight of whom grieved me especially, because
Jesus so loved children, I saw many irreverent, ill-behaved acolytes, who
did not honour our Lord in the holy ceremonies in which they took a part. I
beheld with terror that many priests, some of whom even fancied themselves
full of faith and piety, also outraged Jesus in the Adorable Sacrament. I
saw many who believed and taught the doctrine of the Real Presence, but did
not sufficiently take it to heart, for they forgot and neglected the palace,
throne, and seat of the Living God; that is to say, the church, the altar,
the tabernacle, the chalice, the monstrance, the vases and ornaments; in one
word, all that is used in his worship, or to adorn his house.

Entire neglect reigned everywhere, all things were left to moulder away in
dust and filth, and the worship of God was, if not inwardly profaned, at
least outwardly dishonoured. Nor did this arise from real poverty, but from
indifference, sloth, preoccupation of mind about vain earthly concerns, and
often also from egotism and spiritual death; for I saw neglect of this kind
in churches the pastors and congregations of which were rich, or at least
tolerably well off. I saw many others in which worldly, tasteless,
unsuitable ornaments had replaced the magnificent adornments of a more pious
age.

I saw that often the poorest of men were better lodged in their cottages
than the Master of heaven and earth in his churches. Ah, how deeply did the
inhospitality of men grieve Jesus, who had given himself to them to be their
Food! Truly, there is no need to be rich in order to receive him who rewards
a hundredfold the glass of cold water given to the thirsty; but how shameful
is not our conduct when in giving drink to the Divine Lord, who thirsts for
our souls, we give him corrupted water in a filthy glass! In consequence of
all this neglect, I saw the weak scandalised, the Adorable Sacrament
profaned, the churches deserted, and the priests despised. This state of
impurity and negligence extended even to the souls of the faithful, who left
the tabernacle of their hearts unprepared and uncleansed when Jesus was
about to enter them, exactly the same as they left his tabernacle on the
altar.

Were I to speak for an entire year, I could never detail all the insults
offered to Jesus in the Adorable Sacrament which were made known to me in
this way. I saw their authors assault Jesus in bands, and strike him with
different arms, corresponding to their various offences. I saw irreverent
Christians of all ages, careless or sacrilegious priests, crowds of tepid
and unworthy communicants, wicked soldiers profaning the sacred vessels, and
servants of the devil making use of the Holy Eucharist in the frightful
mysteries of hellish worship. Among these bands I saw a great number of
theologians, who had been drawn into heresy by their sins, attacking Jesus
in the Holy Sacrament of his Church and snatching out of his Heart, by their
seductive words and promises, a number of souls for whom ha had shed his
blood. Ah! it was indeed an awful sight, for I saw the Church as the body of
Christ; and all these bands of men, who were separating themselves from the
Church, mangled and tore off whole pieces of his living flesh. Alas! he
looked at them in the most touching manner, and lamented that they should
thus cause their own eternal loss. He had given his own divine Self to us
for our Food in the Holy Sacrament, in order to unite in one bodythat of
the Church, his Spousemen who were to an infinite extent divided and
separated from each other; and now he beheld himself torn and rent in twain
in that very body; for his principal work of love, the Holy Communion, in
which men should have been made wholly one, was become, by the malice of
false teachers, the subject of separation. I beheld whole nations thus
snatched out of his bosom, and deprived of any participation in the treasure
of graces left to the Church. Finally, I saw all who were separated from the
Church plunged into the depths of infidelity, superstition, heresy, and
false worldly philosophy; and they gave vent to their fierce rage by joining
together in large bodies to attack the Church, being urged on by the serpent
which was disporting itself in the midst of them. Alas! it was as though
Jesus himself had been torn in a thousand pieces!

So great was my horror and terror, that my Heavenly Spouse appeared to me,
and mercifully placed his hand upon my heart, saying:˜No one has yet seen
all these things, and thy heart would burst with sorrow if I did not give
thee strength.™

I saw the blood flowing in large drops down the pale face of our Saviour,
his hair matted together, and his beard bloody and entangled. After the
vision which I have last described, he fled, so to speak, out of the cave,
and returned to his disciples. But he tottered as he walked; his appearance
was that of a man covered with wounds and bending beneath a heavy burden,
and he stumbled at every step.

When he came up to the three Apostles, they were not lying down asleep as
they had been the first time, but their heads were covered, and they had
sunk down on their knees, in an attitude often assumed by the people of that
country when in sorrow or desiring to pray. They had fallen asleep,
overpowered by grief and fatigue. Jesus, trembling and groaning, drew nigh
to them, and they awoke.

But when, by the light of the moon, they saw him standing before them, his
face pale and bloody, and his hair in disorder, their weary eyes did not at
the first moment recognise him, for he was indescribably changed. He clasped
his hands together, upon which they arose and lovingly supported him in
their arms, and he told them in sorrowful accents that the next day he
should be put to death,that in one hour™s time he should be seized, led
before a tribunal, maltreated, outraged, scourged, and finally put to a most
cruel death. He besought them to console his Mother, and also Magdalen. They
made no reply, for they knew not what to say, so greatly had his appearance
and language alarmed them, and they even thought his mind must be wandering.
When he desired to return to the grotto, he had not strength to walk. I saw
John and James lead him back, and return when he had entered the grotto. It
was then about a quarter-past eleven.

During this agony of Jesus, I saw the Blessed Virgin also overwhelmed with
sorrow and anguish of soul, in the house of Mary, the mother of Mark. She
was with Magdalen and Mary in the garden belonging to the house, and almost
prostrate from grief, with her whole body bowed down as she knelt. She
fainted several times, for she beheld in spirit different portions of the
agony of Jesus. She had sent some messengers to make inquiries concerning
him, but her deep anxiety would not suffer her to await their return, and
she went with Magdalen and Salome as far as the Valley of Josaphat. She
walked along with her head veiled, and her arms frequently stretched forth
towards Mount Olivet; for she beheld in spirit Jesus bathed in a bloody
sweat, and her gestures were as though she wished with her extended hands to
wipe the face of her Son. I saw these interior movements of her soul towards
Jesus, who thought of her, and turned his eyes in her direction, as if to
seek her assistance. I beheld the spiritual communication which they had
with each other, under the form of rays passing to and fro between them. Our
Divine Lord thought also of Magdalen, was touched by her distress, and
therefore recommended his Apostles to console her; for he knew that her love
for his adorable Person was greater than that felt for him by any one save
his Blessed Mother, and he foresaw that she would suffer much for his sake,
and never offend him more.

About this time, the eight Apostles returned to the arbour of Gethsemani,
and after talking together for some time, ended by going to sleep. They were
wavering, discouraged, and sorely tempted. They had each been seeking for a
place of refuge in case of danger, and they anxiously asked one another,
˜What shall we do when they have put him to death? We have left all to
follow him; we are poor and the offscouring of the world; we gave ourselves
up entirely to his service, and now he is so sorrowful and so dejected
himself, that he can afford us no consolation.™ The other disciples had at
first wandered about in various directions, but then, having heard something
concerning the awful prophecies which Jesus had made, they had nearly all
retired to Bethphage.

I saw Jesus still praying in the grotto, struggling against the repugnance
to suffering which belonged to human nature, and abandoning himself wholly
to the will of his Eternal Father. Here the abyss opened before him, and he
had a vision of the first part of Limbo. He saw Adam and Eve, the
patriarchs, prophets, and just men, the parents of his Mother, and John the
Baptist, awaiting his arrival in the lower world with such intense longing,
that the sight strengthened and gave fresh courage to his loving heart. His
death was to open Heaven to these captives,his death was to deliver them
out of that prison in which they were languishing in eager hope! When Jesus
had, with deep emotion, looked upon these saints of antiquity, angels
presented to him all the bands of saints of future ages, who, joining their
labours to the merits of his Passion, were, through him, to be united to his
Heavenly Father. Most beautiful and consoling was this vision, in which he
beheld salvation and sanctification flowing forth in ceaseless streams from
the fountain of redemption opened by his death.

The apostles, disciples, virgins, and holy women, the martyrs, confessors,
hermits, popes, and bishops, and large bands of religious of both sexesin
one word, the entire army of the blessedappeared before him. All bore on
their heads triumphal crowns, and the flowers of their crowns differed in
form, in colour, in odour, and in perfection, according to the difference of
the sufferings, labours and victories which had procured them eternal glory.
Their whole life, and all their actions, merits, and power, as well as all
the glory of their triumph, came solely from their union with the merits of
Jesus Christ.

The reciprocal influence exercised by these saints upon each other, and the
manner in which they all drank from one sole Fountainthe Adorable Sacrament
and the Passion of our Lord-formed a most touching and wonderful spectacle.
Nothing about them was devoid of deep meaning,their works, martyrdom,
victories, appearance, and dress,all, though indescribably varied, was
confused together in infinite harmony and unity; and this unity in diversity
was produced by the rays of one single Sun, by the Passion of the Lord, of
the Word made flesh, in whom was life, the light of men, which shined in
darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

The army of the future saints passed before the soul of our Lord, which was
thus placed between the desiring patriarchs, and the triumphant band of the
future blessed, and these two armies joining together, and completing one
another, so to speak, surrounded the loving Heart of our Saviour as with a
crown of victory. This most affecting and consoling spectacle bestowed a
degree of strength and comfort upon the soul of Jesus. Ah! he so loved his
brethren and creatures that, to accomplish the redemption of one single
soul, he would have accepted with joy all the sufferings to which he was now
devoting himself. As these visions referred to the future, they were
diffused to a certain height in the air.

But these consoling visions faded away, and the angels displayed before him
the scenes of his Passion quite close to the earth, because it was near at
hand. I beheld every scene distinctly portrayed, from the kiss of Judas to
the last words of Jesus on the cross, and I saw in this single vision all
that I see in my meditations on the Passion. The treason of Judas, the
flight of the disciples, the insults which were offered our Lord before
Annas and Caiphas, Peter™s denial, the tribunal of Pilate, Herod™s mockery,
the scourging and crowning with thorns, the condemnation to death, the
carrying of the cross, the linen cloth presented by Veronica, the
crucifixion, the insults of the Pharisees, the sorrows of Mary, of Magdalen,
and of John, the wound of the lance in his side, after deathin one word,
every part of the Passion was shown to him in the minutest detail. He
accepted all voluntarily, submitting to everything for the love of man. He
saw also and felt the sufferings endured at that moment by his Mother, whose
interior union with his agony was so entire that she had fainted in the arms
of her two friends.

When the visions of the Passion were concluded, Jesus fell on his face like
one at the point of death; the angels disappeared, and the bloody sweat
became more copious, so that I saw it had soaked his garment. Entire
darkness reigned in the cavern, when I beheld an angel descend to Jesus.
This angel was of higher stature than any whom I had before beheld, and his
form was also more distinct and more resembling that of a man. He was
clothed like a priest in a long floating garment, and bore before him, in
his hands, a small vase, in shape resembling the chalice used at the Last
Supper. At the top of this chalice, there was a small oval body, about the
size of a bean, and which diffused a reddish light. The angel, without
touching the earth with his feet, stretched forth his right hand to Jesus,
who arose, when he placed the mysterious food in his mouth, and gave him to
drink from the luminous chalice. Then he disappeared.

Jesus having freely accepted the chalice of his sufferings, and received new
strength, remained some minutes longer in the grotto, absorbed in calm
meditation, and returning thanks to his Heavenly Father. He was still in
deep affliction of spirit, but supernaturally comforted to such a degree as
to be able to go to his disciples without tottering as he walked, or bending
beneath the weight of his sufferings. His countenance was still pale and
altered, but his step was firm and determined. He had wiped his face with a
linen cloth, and re-arranged his hair, which hung about his shoulders,
matted together and damp with blood.

When Jesus came to his disciples, they were lying, as before, against the
wall of the terrace, asleep, and with their heads covered. Our Lord told
them that then was not the time for sleep, but that they should arise and
pray:˜Behold the, hour is at hand, and the Son of Man shall be betrayed
into the hands of sinners,™ he said:˜Arise, let us go, behold he is at hand
that will betray me. It were better for him, if that man had not been
born.™ The Apostles arose in much alarm, and looked round with anxiety. When
they had somewhat recovered themselves, Peter said warmly:˜Lord, I will
call the others, that so we may defend thee.™ But Jesus pointed out to them
at some distance in the valley, on the other side of the Brook of Cedron, a
band of armed men, who were advancing with torches, and he said that one of
their number had betrayed him. He spoke calmly, exhorted them to console his
Mother, and said:˜Let us go to meet themI shall deliver myself up without
resistance into the hands of my enemies.™ He then left the Garden of Olives
with the three Apostles, and went to meet the archers on the road which led
from that garden to Gethsemani.

When the Blessed Virgin, under the care of Magdalen and Salome, recovered
her senses, some disciples, who had seen the soldiers approaching, conducted
her back to the house of Mary, the mother of Mark. The archers took a
shorter road than that which Jesus followed when he left the supper-room.

The grotto in which Jesus had this day prayed was not the one where he
usually prayed on Mount Olivet. He commonly went to a cabin at a greater
distance off, where, one day, after having cursed the barren fig-tree, he
had prayed in great affliction of spirit, with his arms stretched out, and
leaning against a rock.

The traces of his body and hands remained impressed on the stone, and were
honoured later, but it was not known on what, occasion the miracle had taken
place. I have several times seen similar impressions left upon the stone,
either by the Prophets of the Old Testament, or by Jesus, Mary, or some of
the Apostles, and I have also seen those made by the body of St. Catherine
on Mount Sinai. These impressions do not seem deep, but resemble what would
be made upon a thick piece of dough, if a person leaned his hand upon it.
_________________________________________________________________

[9] On the 11th of December 1812, in her visions of the public life of
Jesus, she saw our Lord permit the devils whom he had expelled from the men
of Gergesa to enter into a herd of swine. She also saw, on this particular
occasion, that the possessed men first overturned a large vat filled with
some fermented liquid.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER II.

Judas and his Band.

JUDAS had not expected that his treason would have produced such fatal
results. He had been anxious to obtain the promised reward, and to please
the Pharisees by delivering up Jesus into their hands, but he had never
calculated on things going so far, or thought that the enemies of his Master
would actually bring him to judgment and crucify him; his mind was engrossed
with the love of gain alone, and some astute Pharisees and Sadducees, with
whom he had established an intercourse, had constantly urged him on to
treason by flattering him. He was sick of the fatiguing, wandering, and
persecuted life which the Apostles led. For several months past he had
continually stolen from the alms which were consigned to his care, and his
avarice, grudging the expenses incurred by Magdalen when she poured the
precious ointment on the feet of our Lord, incited him to the commission of
the greatest of crimes. He had always hoped that Jesus would establish a
temporal kingdom, and bestow upon him some brilliant and lucrative post in
it, but finding himself disappointed, he turned his thoughts to amassing a
fortune. He saw that sufferings and persecutions were on the increase for
our Lord and his followers, and he sought to make friends with the powerful
enemies of our Saviour before the time of danger, for he saw that Jesus did
not become a king, whereas the actual dignity and power of the High Priest,
and of all who were attached to his service, made a very strong impression
upon his mind.

He began to enter by degrees into a close connection with their agents, who
were constantly flattering him, and assuring him in strong terms that, in
any case, an end would speedily be put to the career of our Divine Lord. He
listened more and more eagerly to the criminal suggestions of his corrupt
heart, and he had done nothing during the last few days but go backwards and
forwards in order to induce the chief priests to come to some agreement. But
they were unwilling to act at once, and treated him with contempt. They said
that sufficient time would not intervene before the festival day, and that
there would be a tumult among the people. The Sanhedrin alone listened to
his proposals with some degree of attention. After Judas had sacrilegiously
received the Blessed Sacrament, Satan took entire possession of him, and he
went off at once to complete his crime. He in the first place sought those
persons who had hitherto flattered and entered into agreements with him, and
who still received him with pretended friendship. Some others joined the
party, and among the number Annas and Caiphas, but the latter treated him
with considerable pride and scorn. All these enemies of Christ were
extremely undecided and far from feeling any confidence of success, because
they mistrusted Judas.

I saw the empire of Hell divided against itself; Satan desired the crime of
the Jews, and earnestly longed for the death of Jesus, the Converter of
souls, the holy Teacher, the Just Man, who was so abhorrent to him; but at
the same time he felt an extraordinary interior fear of the death of the
innocent Victim, who would not conceal himself from his persecutors. I saw
him then, on the one hand, stimulate the hatred and fury of the enemies of
Jesus, and on the other, insinuate to some of their number that Judas was a
wicked, despicable character, and that the sentence could not be pronounced
before the festival, or a sufficient number of witnesses against Jesus be
gathered together.

Every one proposed something different, and some questioned Judas, saying:
˜Shall we be able to take him? Has he not armed men with him?™ And the
traitor replied:˜No, he is alone with eleven disciples; he is greatly
depressed, and the eleven are timid men.™ He told them that now or never was
the time to get possession of the person of Jesus, that later he might no
longer have it in his power to give our Lord up into their hands, and that
perhaps he should never return to him again, because for several days past
it had been very clear that the other disciples and Jesus himself suspected
and would certainly kill him if he returned to them. He told them likewise
that if they did not at once seize the person of Jesus, he would make his
escape, and return with an army of his partisans, to have himself proclaimed
king. These threats of Judas produced some effect, his proposals were
acceded to, and he received the price of his treason-thirty pieces of
silver. These pieces were oblong, with holes in their sides, strung together
by means of rings in a kind of chain, and bearing certain impressions.

Judas could not help being conscious that they regarded him with contempt
and distrust, for their language and gestures betrayed their feelings, and
pride suggested to him to give back the money as an offering for the Temple,
in order to make them suppose his intentions to have been just and
disinterested. But they rejected his proposal, because the price of blood
could not be offered in the Temple. Judas saw how much they despised him,
and his rage was excessive. He had not expected to reap the bitter fruits of
his treason even before it was accomplished, but he had gone so far with
these men that he was in their power, and escape was no longer possible.
They watched him carefully, and would not let him leave their presence,
until he had shown them exactly what steps were to be taken in order to
secure the person of Jesus. Three Pharisees accompanied him when he went
down into a room where the soldiers of the Temple (some only of whom were
Jews, and the rest of various nations) were assembled. When everything was
settled, and the necessary number of soldiers gathered together, Judas
hastened first to the supper-room, accompanied by a servant of the
Pharisees, for the purpose of ascertaining whether Jesus had left, as they
would have seized his person there without difficulty, if once they had
secured the doors. He agreed to send them a messenger with the required
information.

A short time before when Judas had received the price of his treason, a
Pharisee had gone out, and sent seven slaves to fetch wood with which to
prepare the Cross for our Saviour, in case he should be judged, because the
next day there would not be sufficient time on account of the commencement
of the Paschal festivity. They procured this wood from a spot about
three-quarters of a mile distant, near a high wall, where there was a great
quantity of other wood belonging to the Temple, and dragged it to a square
situated behind the tribunal of Caiphas. The principal piece of the Cross
came from a tree formerly growing in the Valley of Josaphat, near the
torrent of Cedron, and which, having fallen across the stream, had been used
as a sort of bridge. When Nehemias hid the sacred fire and the holy vessels
in the pool of Bethsaida, it had been thrown over the spot, together with
other pieces of wood,then later taken away, and left on one side. The Cross
was prepared in a very peculiar manner, either with the object of deriding
the royalty of Jesus, or from what men might term chance. It was composed of
five pieces of wood, exclusive of the inscription. I saw many other things
concerning the Cross, and the meaning of different circumstances was also
made known to me, but I have forgotten all that.

Judas returned, and said that Jesus was no longer in the supper-room, but
that he must certainly be on Mount Olivet, in the spot where he was
accustomed to pray. He requested that only a small number of men might be
sent with him, lest the disciples who were on the watch should perceive
anything and raise a sedition. Three hundred men were to be stationed at the
gates and in the streets of Ophel, a part of the town situated to the south
of the Temple, and along the valley of Millo as far as the house of Annas,
on the top of Mount Sion, in order to be ready to send reinforcements if
necessary, for, he said, all the people of the lower class of Ophel were
partisans of Jesus. The traitor likewise bade them be careful, lest he
should escape themsince he, by mysterious means, had so often hidden
himself in the mountain, and made himself suddenly invisible to those
around. He recommended them, besides, to fasten him with a chain, and make
use of certain magical forms to prevent his breaking it. The Jews listened
to all these pieces of advice with scornful indifference, and replied,˜If
we once have him in our hands, we will take care not to let him go.™

Judas next began to make his arrangements with those who were to accompany
him. He wished to enter the garden before them, and embrace and salute Jesus
as if he were returning to him as his friend and disciple, and then for the
soldiers to run forward and seize the person of Jesus. He was anxious that
it should be thought they had come there by chance, that so, when they had
made their appearance, he might run away like the other disciples and be no
more heard of. He likewise thought that, perhaps, a tumult would ensue, that
the Apostles might defend themselves, and Jesus pass through the midst of
his enemies, as he had so often done before. He dwelt upon these thoughts
especially, when his pride was hurt by the disdainful manner of the Jews in
his regard; but he did not repent, for he had wholly given himself up to
Satan. It was his desire also that the soldiers following him should not
carry chains and cords, and his accomplices pretended to accede to all his
wishes, although in reality they acted with him as with a traitor who was
not to be trusted, but to be cast off as Soon as he had done what was
wanted. The soldiers received orders to keep close to Judas, watch him
carefully, and not let him escape until Jesus was seized, for he had
received his reward, and it was feared that he might ran off with the money,
and Jesus not be taken after all, or another be taken in his place. The band
of men chosen to accompany Judas was composed of twenty soldiers, selected
from the temple guard and from others of the military who were under the
orders of Annas and Caiphas. They were dressed very much like the Roman
soldiers, had morions like them, and wore hanging straps round their thighs,
but their beards were long, whereas the Roman soldiers at Jerusalem had
whiskers only, and shaved their chins and upper lips. They all had swords,
some of them being also armed with spears, and they carried sticks with
lanterns and torches; but when they set off they only lighted one. It had at
first been intended that Judas should be accompanied by a more numerous
escort, but he drew their attention to the fact that so large a number of
men would be too easily seen, because Mount Olivet commanded a view of the
whole valley. Most of the soldiers remained, therefore, at Ophel, and
sentinels were stationed on all sides to put down any attempt which might be
made to release Jesus. Judas set off with the twenty soldiers, but he was
followed at some distance by four archers, who were only common bailiff,
carrying cords and chains, and after them came the six agents with whom
Judas had been in communication for some time. One of these was a priest and
a confidant of Annas, a second was devoted to Caiphas, the third and fourth
were Pharisees, and the other two Sadduceans and Herodians. These six men
were courtiers of Annas and Caiphas, acting in the capacity of spies, and
most bitter enemies of Jesus.

The soldiers remained on friendly terms with Judas until they reached the
spot where the road divides the Garden of Olives from the Garden of
Gethsemani, but there they refused to allow him to advance alone, and
entirely changed their manner, treating him with much insolence and
harshness.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER III.

Jesus is arrested.

JESUS was standing with his three Apostles on the road between Gethsemani,
and the Garden of Olives, when Judas and the band who accompanied him made
their appearance. A warm dispute arose between Judas and the soldiers,
because he wished to approach first and speak to Jesus quietly as if nothing
was the matter, and then for them to come up and seize our Saviour, thus
letting him suppose that he had no connection with the affair. But the men
answered rudely,˜Not so, friend, thou shalt not escape from our hands until
we have the Galilean safely bound,™ and seeing the eight Apostles who
hastened to rejoin Jesus when they heard the dispute which was going on,
they (notwithstanding the opposition of Judas) called up four archers, whom
they had left at a little distance, to assist. When by the light of the moon
Jesus and the three Apostles first saw the band of armed men, Peter wished
to repel them by force of arms, and said:˜Lord, the other eight are close
at hand, let us attack the archers,™ but Jesus bade him hold his peace, and
then turned and walked back a few steps. At this moment four disciples came
out of the garden, and asked what was taking place. Judas was about to
reply, but the soldiers interrupted, and would not let him speak. These four
disciples were James the Less, Philip, Thomas, and Nathaniel; the last
named, who was a son of the aged Simeon, had with a few others joined the
eight Apostles at Gethsemani, being perhaps sent by the friends of Jesus to
know what was going on, or possibly simply incited by curiosity and anxiety.
The other disciples were wandering to and fro, on the look out, and ready to
fly at a moment™s notice.

Jesus walked up to the soldiers and said in a firm and clear voice,˜Whom
seek ye?™ The leaders answered,˜Jesus of Nazareth.™ Jesus said to them,˜I
am he.™ Scarcely had he pronounced these words than they all fell to the
ground as if struck with apoplexy. Judas, who stood by them, was much
alarmed, and as he appeared desirous of approaching, Jesus held out his hand
and said:˜Friend, whereto art thou come?™ Judas stammered forth something
about business which had brought him. Jesus answered in few words, the sense
of which was:˜It were better for thee that thou hadst never been born;™
however, I cannot remember the words exactly. In the mean time, the soldiers
had risen, and again approached Jesus, but they waited for the sign of the
kiss, with which Judas had promised to salute his Master that they might
recognise him. Peter and the other disciples surrounded Judas, and reviled
him in unmeasured terms, calling him thief and traitor; he tried to mollify
their wrath by all kinds of lies, but his efforts were vain, for the
soldiers came up and offered to defend him, which proceeding manifested the
truth at once.

Jesus again asked,˜Whom seek ye?™ They replied:˜Jesus of Nazareth.™ Jesus
made answer,˜I have told you that I am he,™˜if therefore you seek me, let
these go their way.™ At these words the soldiers fell for the second time to
the ground, in convulsions similar to those of epilepsy, and the Apostles
again surrounded Judas and expressed their indignation at his shameful
treachery. Jesus said to the soldiers,˜Arise,™ and they arose, but at first
quite speechless from terror. They then told Judas to give them the signal
agreed upon instantly, as their orders were to seize upon no one but him
whom Judas kissed. Judas therefore approached Jesus, and gave him a kiss,
saying,˜Hail Rabbi.™ Jesus replied,˜What, Judas, dost thou betray the Son
of Man with a kiss?™ The soldiers immediately surrounded Jesus, and the
archers laid hands upon him. Judas wished to fly, but the Apostles would not
allow it; they rushed at the soldiers and cried out,˜Master, shall we
strike with the sword?™ Peter, who was more impetuous than the rest, seized
the sword, and struck Malchus, the servant of the high priest, who wished to
drive away the Apostles, and cut off his right ear; Malchus fell to the
ground, and a great tumult ensued.

The archers had seized upon Jesus, and wished to bind him; while Malchus and
the rest of the soldiers stood around. When Peter struck the former, the
rest were occupied in repulsing those among the disciples who approached too
near, and in pursuing those who ran away. Four disciples made their
appearance in the distance, and looked fearfully at the scene before them;
but the soldiers were still too much alarmed at their late fall to trouble
themselves much about them, and besides they did not wish to leave our
Saviour without a certain number of men to guard him. Judas fled as soon as
he had given the traitorous kiss, but was met by some of the disciples, who
overwhelmed him with reproaches. Six Pharisees, however, came to his rescue,
and he escaped whilst the archers were busily occupied in pinioning Jesus.

When Peter struck Malchus, Jesus said to him,˜Put up again thy sword into
its place; for all that take the sword shall perish with the sword. Thinkest
thou that I cannot ask my Father, and he will give me presently more than
twelve legions of angels? How then shall the Scriptures be fulfilled, that
so it must be done?™ Then he said,˜Let me cure this man;™ and approaching
Malchus, he touched his ear, prayed, and it was healed. The soldiers who
were standing near, as well as the archers and the six Pharisees, far from
being moved by this miracle, continued to insult our Lord, and said to the
bystanders,˜It is a trick of the devil, the powers of witchcraft made the
ear appear to be cut off, and now the s a power gives it the appearance of
being healed.™

Then Jesus again addressed them,˜You are come out as it were to a robber,
with swords and clubs, to apprehend me. I sat daily with you teaching in the
Temple, and you laid not hands upon me, but this is your hour and the power
of darkness.™ The Pharisees ordered him to be bound still more strongly, and
made answer in a contemptuous tone,˜Ah! thou couldst not overthrow us by
thy witchcraft.™ Jesus replied, but I do not remember his words, and all the
disciples fled. The four archers and the six Pharisees did not fall to the
ground at the words of Jesus, because, as was afterwards revealed to me,
they as well as Judas, who likewise did not fall, were entirely in the power
of˜Satan, whereas all those who fell and rose again were afterwards
converted, and became Christians; they had only surrounded Jesus, and not
laid hands upon him. Malchus was instantly converted by the cure wrought
upon him, and during the time of the Passion his employment was to carry
messages backwards and forwards to Mary and the other friends of our Lord.

The archers, who now proceeded to pinion Jesus with the greatest brutality,
were pagans of the lowest extraction, short, stout, and active, with sandy
complexions, resembling those of Egyptian slaves, and bare legs, arms, and
neck.

They tied his hands as tightly as possible with hard new cords, fastening
the right-hand wrist under the left elbow, and the left-hand wrist under the
right elbow. They encircled his waist with a species of belt studded with
iron points, and bound his hands to it with osier bands, while on his neck
they put a collar covered with iron points, and to this collar were appended
two leathern straps, which were crossed over his chest like a stole and
fastened to the belt. They then fastened four ropes to different parts of
the belt, and by means of these ropes dragged our Blessed Lord from side to
side in the most cruel manner. The ropes were new; I think they were
purchased when the Pharisees first determined to arrest Jesus. The Pharisees
lighted fresh torches, and the procession started. Ten soldiers walked in
front, the archers who held the ropes and dragged Jesus along, followed, and
the Pharisees and ten other soldiers brought up the rear. The disciples
wandered about at a distance, and wept and moaned as if beside themselves
from grief. John alone followed, and walked at no great distance from the
soldiers, until the Pharisees, seeing him, ordered the guards to arrest him.
They endeavoured to obey, but he ran away, leaving in their hands a cloth
with which he was covered, and of which they had taken hold when they
endeavoured to seize him. He had slipped off his coat, that he might escape
more easily from the hands of his enemies, and kept nothing on but a short
under garment without sleeves, and the long band which the Jews usually
wore, and which was wrapped round his neck, head, and arms. The archers
behaved in the most cruel manner to Jesus as they led him along; this they
did to curry favour with the six Pharisees, who they well knew perfectly
hated and detested our Lord. They led him along the roughest road they could
select, over the sharpest stones, and through the thickest mire; they pulled
the cords as tightly as possible; they struck him with knotted cords, as a
butcher would strike the beast he is about to slaughter; and they
accompanied this cruel treatment with such ignoble and indecent insults that
I cannot recount them. The feet of Jesus were bare; he wore, besides the
ordinary dress, a seamless woollen garment, and a cloak which was thrown
over all. I have forgotten to state that when Jesus was arrested, it was
done without any order being presented or legal ceremony taking place; he
was treated as a person without the pale of the law.

The procession proceeded at a good pace; when they left the road which runs
between the Garden of Olives a, that of Gethsemani, they turned to the
right, and soon reached a bridge which was thrown over the Torrent of
Cedron. When Jesus went to the Garden of Olives with the Apostles, he did
not cross this bridge, but went by a private path which ran through the
Valley of Josaphat, and led to another bridge more to the south. The bridge
over which the soldiers led Jesus was long, being thrown over not only the
torrent, which was very large in this part, but likewise over the valley,
which extends a considerable distance to the right and to the left, and is
much lower than the bed of the river. I saw our Lord fall twice before he
reached the bridge, and these falls were caused entirely by the barbarous
manner in which the soldiers dragged him; but when they were half over the
bridge they gave full vent to their brutal inclinations, and struck Jesus
with such violence that they threw him off the bridge into the water, and
scornfully recommended him to quench his thirst there. If God had not
preserved him, he must have been killed by this fall; he fell first on his
knee, and then on his face, but saved himself a little by stretching out his
hands, which, although so tightly bound before, were loosened, I know not
whether by miracle, or whether the soldiers had out the cords before they
threw him into the water. The marks of his feet, his elbows, and. his
fingers were miraculously impressed on the rock on which he fell, and these
impressions were afterwards shown for the veneration of Christians. These
stones were less hard than the unbelieving hearts of the wicked men who
surrounded Jesus, and bore witness at this terrible moment to the Divine
Power which had touched them.

I had not seen Jesus take anything to quench the thirst which had consumed
him ever since his agony in the garden, but he drank when he fell into the
Cedron, and I heard him repeat these words from the prophetic Psalm,˜In his
thirst he will drink water from the torrent™ (Psalm cviii.).

The archers still held the ends of the ropes with which Jesus was bound, but
it would have been difficult to draw him out of the water on that side, on
account of a wall which was built on the shore; they turned back and dragged
him quite through the Cedron to the shore, and then made him cross the
bridge a second time, accompanying their every action with insults,
blasphemies, and blows. His long woollen garment, which was quite soaked
through, adhered to his legs, impeded every movement, and rendered it almost
impossible for him to walk, and when he reached the end of the bridge he
fell quite down. They pulled him up again in the most cruel manner, struck
him with cords, and fastened the ends of his wet garment to the belt,
abusing him at the same time in the most cowardly manner. It was not quite
midnight when I saw the four archers inhumanly dragging Jesus over a narrow
path, which was choked up with stones, fragments of rock, thistles, and
thorns, on the opposite shore of the Cedron. The six brutal Pharisees walked
as close to our Lord as they could, struck him constantly with thick pointed
sticks, and seeing that his bare and bleeding feet were torn by the stones
and briars, exclaimed scornfully:˜His precursor, John the Baptist, has
certainly not prepared a good path for him here;™ or,˜The words of Malachy,
œBehold, I send my angel before thy face, to prepare the way before thee,�
do not exactly apply now.™ Every jest uttered by these men incited the
archers to greater cruelty.

The enemies of Jesus remarked that several persons made their appearance in
the distance; they were only disciples who had assembled when they heard
that their Master was arrested, and who were anxious to discover what the
end would be; but the sight of them rendered the Pharisees uneasy, lest any
attempt should be made to rescue Jesus, and they therefore sent for a
reinforcement of soldiers. At a very short distance from an entrance
opposite to the south side of the Temple, which leads through a little
village called Ophel. to Mount Sion, where the residences of Annas and
Caiphas were situated, I saw a band of about fifty soldiers, who carried
torches, and appeared ready for anything; the demeanour of these men was
outrageous, and they gave loud shouts, both to announce their arrival, and
to congratulate their comrades upon the success of the expedition. This
caused a slight confusion among the soldiers who were leading Jesus, and
Malchus and a few others took advantage of it to depart, and fly towards
Mount Olivet.

When the fresh band of soldiers left Ophel, I saw those disciples who had
gathered together disperse; some went one way, and some another. The Blessed
Virgin and about nine of the holy women, being filled with anxiety, directed
their stops towards the Valley of Josaphat, accompanied by Lazarus, John the
son of Mark, the son of Veronica, and the son of Simon. The last-named was
at Gethsemani with Nathaniel and the eight Apostles, and had fled when the
soldiers appeared. He was giving the Blessed Virgin the account of all that
had been done, when the fresh band of soldiers joined those who were leading
Jesus, and she then heard their tumultuous vociferations, and saw the light
of the torches they carried. This sight quite overcame her; she became
insensible, and John took her into the house of Mary, the mother of Mark.

The fifty soldiers who were sent to join those who had taken Jesus, were a
detachment from a company of three hundred men posted to guard the gates and
environs of Ophel; for the traitor Judas had reminded the High Priests that
the inhabitants of Ophel (who were principally of the labouring class, and
whose chief employment was to bring water and wood to the Temple) were the
most attached partisans of Jesus, and might perhaps make some attempts to
rescue him. The traitor was aware that Jesus had both consoled, instructed,
assisted, and cured the diseases of many of these poor workmen, and that
Ophel was the place where he halted during his journey from Bethania to
Hebron, when John the Baptist had just been executed. Judas also knew that
Jesus had cured many of the masons who were injured by the fall of the Tower
of Siloe. The greatest part of the inhabitants of Ophel were converted after
the death of our Lord, and joined the first Christian community that was
formed after Pentecost, and when the Christians separated from the Jews and
erected new dwellings, they placed their huts and tents in the valley which
is situated between Mount Olivet and Ophel, and there St. Stephen lived.
Ophel was on a hill to the south of the Temple, surrounded by walls, and its
inhabitants were very poor. I think it was smaller than Dulmer. [10]

The slumbers of the good inhabitants of Ophel were disturbed by the noise of
the soldiers; they came out of their houses and ran to the entrance of the
village to ask the cause of the uproar; but the soldiers received them
roughly, ordered them to return home, and in reply to their numerous
questions, said,˜We have just arrested Jesus, your false prophethe who has
deceived you so grossly; the High Priests are about to judge him, and he
will be crucified.™ Cries and lamentations arose on all sides; the poor
women and children ran backwards and forwards, weeping and wringing their
hands; and calling to mind all the benefits they had received from our Lord,
they cast themselves on their knees to implore the protection of Heaven. But
the soldiers pushed them on one side, struck them, obliged them to return to
their houses, and exclaimed,˜What farther proof is required? Does not the
conduct of these persons show plainly that the Galilæan incites
rebellion?™

They were, however, a little cautious in their expressions and demeanour for
fear of causing an insurrection in Ophel, and therefore only endeavoured to
drive the inhabitants away from those parts of the village which Jesus was
obliged to cross.

When the cruel soldiers who led our Lord were near the gates of Ophel he
again fell, and appeared unable to proceed a step farther, upon which one
among them, being moved to compassion, said to another,˜You see the poor
man is perfectly exhausted, he cannot support himself with the weight of his
chains; if we wish to get him to the High Priest alive we must loosen the
cords with which his hands are bound, that he may be able to save himself a
little when he falls.™ The band stopped for a moment, the fetters were
loosened, and another kind-hearted soldier brought some water to Jesus from
a neighbouring fountain. Jesus thanked him, and spoke of the˜fountains of
living water,™ of which those who believed in him should drink; but his
words enraged the Pharisees still more, and they overwhelmed him with
insults and contumelious language. I saw the heart of the soldier who had
caused Jesus to be unbound, as also that of the one who brought him water,
suddenly illuminated by grace; they were both converted before the death of
Jesus, and immediately joined his disciples.

The procession started again, and reached the gate of Ophel. Here Jesus was
again saluted by the cries of grief and sympathy of those who owed him so
much gratitude, and the soldiers had considerable difficulty in keeping back
the men and women who crowded round from all parts. They clasped their
hands, fell on their knees, lamented, and exclaimed,˜Release this man unto
us, release him! Who will assist, who will console us, who will cure our
diseases? Release him unto us!™ It was indeed heartrending to look upon
Jesus; his face was white, disfigured, and wounded, his hair dishevelled,
his dress wet and soiled, and his savage and drunken guards were dragging
him about and striking him with sticks like a poor dumb animal led to the
slaughter. Thus was he conducted through the midst of the afflicted
inhabitants of Ophel, and the paralytic whom he had cured, the dumb to whom
he had restored speech, and the blind whose eyes he had opened, united, but
in vain, in offering supplications for his release.

Many persons from among the lowest and most degraded classes had been sent
by Annas, Caiphas, and the other enemies of Jesus, to join the procession,
and assist the soldiers both in ill-treating Jesus, and in driving away the
inhabitants of Ophel. The village of Ophel was seated upon a hill, and I saw
a great deal of timber placed there ready for building. The procession had
to proceed down a hill, and then pass through a door made in the wall. On
one side of this door stood a large building erected originally by Solomon,
and on the other the pool of Bethsaida. After passing this, they followed a
westerly direction down a steep street called Millo, at the end of which a
turn to the south brought them to the house of Annas. The guards never
ceased their cruel treatment of our Divine Saviour, and excused such conduct
by saying that the crowds who gathered together in front of the procession
compelled them to severity. Jesus fell seven times between Mount Olivet and
the house of Annas.

The inhabitants of Ophel were still in a state of consternation and grief,
when the sight of the Blessed Virgin, who passed through the village
accompanied by the holy women and some other friends on her way from the
Valley of Cedron to the house of Mary the mother of Mark, excited them still
more, and they made the place reëcho with sobs and lamentations, while they
surrounded and almost carried her in their arms. Mary was speechless from
grief, and did not open her lips after she reached the house of Mary the
mother of Mark, until the arrival of John, who related all he had seen since
Jesus left the supper-room; and a little later she was taken to the house of
Martha, which was near that of Lazarus. Peter and John, who had followed
Jesus at a distance, went in haste to some servants of the High Priest with
whom the latter was acquainted, in order to endeavour by their means to
obtain admittance into the tribunal where their Master was to be tried.
These servants acted as messengers, and had just been ordered to go to the
houses of the ancients, and other members of the Council, to summon them to
attend the meeting which was convoked. As they were anxious to oblige the
Apostles, but foresaw much difficulty in obtaining their admittance into the
tribunal, they gave them cloaks similar to those they themselves wore, and
made them assist in carrying messages to the members in order that
afterwards they might enter the tribunal of Caiphas, and mingle, without
being recognised, among the soldiers and false witnesses, as all other
persons were to be expelled. As Nicodemus, Joseph of Arimathea, and other
well-intentioned persons were members of this Council, the Apostles
undertook to let them know what was going to be done in the Council, thus
securing the presence of those friends of Jesus whom the Pharisees had
purposely omitted to invite. In the mean time Judas wandered up and down the
steep and wild precipices at the south of Jerusalem, despair marked on his
every feature, and the devil pursuing him to and fro, filling his
imagination with still darker visions, and not allowing him a moment™s
respite.
_________________________________________________________________

[10] Dulmen is a small town in Westphalia, where Sister Emmerich lived at
this time.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IV.

Means employed by the enemies of Jesus for carrying out their designs against
him.

No sooner was Jesus arrested than Annas and Caiphas were informed, and
instantly began to arrange their plans with regard to the course to be
pursued. Confusion speedily reigned everywherethe rooms were lighted up in
haste, guards placed at the entrances, and messengers dispatched to
different parts of the town to convoke the members of the Council, the
Scribes, and all who were to take a part in the trial. Many among them had,
however, assembled at the house of Caiphas as soon as the treacherous
compact with Judas was completed, and had remained there to await the course
of events. The different classes of ancients were likewise assembled, and as
the Pharisees, Sadducces, and Herodians were congregated in Jerusalem from
all parts of the country for the celebration of the festival, and had long
been concerting measures with the Council for the arrest of our Lord, the
High Priests now sent for those whom they knew to be the most bitterly
opposed to Jesus, and desired them to assemble the witnesses, gather
together every possible proof, and bring all before the Council. The proud
Sadducces of Nazareth, of Capharnaum, of Thirza, of Gabara, of Jotapata, and
of Silo, whom Jesus had so often reproved before the people, were actually
dying for revenge. They hastened to all the inns to seek out those persons
whom they knew to be enemies of our Lord, and offered them bribes in order
to secure their appearance. But, with the exception of a few ridiculous
calumnies, which were certain to be disproved as soon as investigated,
nothing tangible could be brought forward against Jesus, excepting, indeed,
those foolish accusations which he had so often refuted in the synagogue.

The enemies of Jesus hastened, however, to the tribunal of Caiphas, escorted
by the Scribes and Pharisees of Jerusalem, and accompanied by many of those
merchants whom our Lord drove out of the Temple when they were holding
market there; m also by the proud doctors whom he had silenced before all
the people, and even by some who could not forgive the humiliation of being
convicted of error when he disputed with them in the Temple at the age of
twelve. There was likewise a large body of impenitent sinners whom he had
refused to cure, relapsed sinners whose diseases had returned, worldly young
men whom he would not receive as disciples, avaricious persons whom he had
enraged by causing the money which they had been in hopes of possessing to
be distributed in alms. Others there were whose friends he had cured, and
who had thus been disappointed in their expectation of inheriting property;
debauchees whose victims he had converted; and many despicable characters
who made their fortunes by flattering and fostering the vices of the great.

All these emissaries of Satan were overflowing with rage against everything
holy, and consequently with an indescribable hatred of the Holy of the
Holies. They were farther incited by the enemies of our Lord, and therefore
assembled in crowds round the palace of Caiphas, to bring forward all their
false accusations and to endeavour to cover with infamy that spotless Lamb,
who took upon himself the sins of the world, and accepted the burden in
order to reconcile man with God.

Whilst all these wicked beings were busily consulting as to what was best to
be done, anguish and anxiety filled the hearts of the friends of Jesus, for
they were ignorant of the mystery which was about to be accomplished, and
they wandered about, sighing, and listening to every different opinion. Each
word they uttered gave rise to feelings of suspicion on the part of those
whom they addressed, and if they were silent, their silence was set down as
wrong. Many well-meaning but weak and undecided characters yielded to
temptation, were scandalised, and lost their faith; indeed,. the number of
those who persevered was very small indeed. Things were the same then as
they oftentimes are now, persons were willing to serve God if they met with
no opposition from their fellow creatures, but were ashamed of the Cross if
held in contempt by others. The hearts of some were, however, touched by the
patience displayed by our Lord in the midst of his sufferings, and they
walked away silent and sad.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER V.

A Glance at Jerusalem.

THE customary prayers and preparations for the celebration of the festival
being completed, the greatest part of the inhabitants of the
densely-populated city of Jerusalem, as also the strangers congregated
there, were plunged in sleep after the fatigues of the day, when, all at
once, the arrest of Jesus was announced, and every one was aroused, both his
friends and foes, and numbers immediately responded to the summons of the
High Priest, and left their dwellings to assemble at his court. In some
parts the light of the moon enabled them to grope their way in safety along
the dark and gloomy streets, but in other parts they were obliged to make
use of torches. Very few of the houses were built with their windows looking
on the street, and, generally speaking, their doors were in inner courts,
which gave the streets a still more gloomy appearance than is usual. at this
hour. The steps of all were directed towards Sion, and an attentive listener
might have heard persons stop at the doors of their friends, and knock, in
order to awaken themthen hurry on, then again stop to question others, and,
finally, set off anew in haste towards Sion. Newsmongers and servants were
hurrying forward to ascertain what was going on, in order that they might
return and give the account to those who remained at home; and the bolting
and barricading of doors might be plainly heard, as many persons were much
alarmed and feared an insurrection, while a thousand different propositions
were made and opinions given, such as the following:˜Lazarus and his
sisters will soon know who is this man in whom they have placed such firm
reliance. Joanna, Chusa, Susannah, Mary the mother of Mark, and Salome will
repent, but too late, the imprudence of their conduct; Seraphia, the wife of
Sirach, win be compelled to make an apology to her husband now, for he has
so often reproached her with her partiality for the Galilæan. The partisans
of this fanatical man, this inciter of rebellion, pretended to be filled
with compassion for all who looked upon things in a different light from
themselves, and now they will not know where to hide their heads. He will
find no one now to cast garments and strew olive-branches at his feet. Those
hypocrites who pretended to be so much better than other persons will
receive their deserts, for they are all implicated with the Galilæan. It is
a much more serious business an was at first thought. I should like to know
how Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea will get out of it; the High Priests
have mistrusted them for some time; they made common cause with Lazarus: but
they are extremely cunning. All will now, however, be brought to light.™

Speeches such as these were uttered by persons who were exasperated, not
only against the disciples of Jesus, but likewise with the holy women who
had supplied his temporal wants, and had publicly and fearlessly expressed
their veneration for his doctrines, and their belief in his Divine mission.

But although many persons spoke of Jesus and his followers in this
contemptuous manner, yet there were others who held very different opinions,
and of these some were frightened, and others, being overcome with sorrow,
sought friends to whom they might unburden their hearts, and before whom
they could, without fear, give vent to their feelings; but the number of
those sufficiently daring openly to avow their admiration for Jesus was but
small.

Nevertheless, it was in parts only of Jerusalem that these disturbances took
placein those parts where the messengers had been sent by the High Priests
and the Pharisees, to convoke the members of the Council and to call
together the witnesses. It appeared to me that I saw feelings of hatred and
fury burst forth in different parts of the city, under the form of flames,
which flames traversed the streets, united with others which they met, and
proceeded in the direction of Sion, increasing every moment, and at last
came to a stop beneath the tribunal of Caiphas, where they remained, forming
together a perfect whirlwind of fire.

The Roman soldiers took no part in what was going on; they did not
understand the excited feelings of the people, but their sentinels were
doubled, their cohorts drawn up, and they kept a strict look out; this,
indeed, was customary at the time of the Paschal solemnity, on account of
the vast number of strangers who were then assembled together. The Pharisees
endeavoured to avoid the neighbourhood of the sentinels, for fear of being
questioned by them, and of contracting defilement by answering their
questions. The High Priests had sent a message to Pilate intimating their
reasons for stationing soldiers round Ophel and Sion; but he mistrusted
their intentions, as much ill-feeling existed between the Romans and the
Jews. He could not sleep, but walked about during the greatest part of the
night, hearkening to the different reports and issuing orders consequent on
what he heard; his wife slept, but her sleep was disturbed by frightful
dreams, and she groaned and wept alternately.

In no part of Jerusalem did the arrest of Jesus produce more touching
demonstrations of grief than among the poor inhabitants of Ophel, the
greatest part of whom were day-labourers, and the rest principally employed
in menial offices in the service of the Temple. The news came unexpectedly
upon them; for some time they doubted the truth of the report, and wavered
between hope and fear; but the sight of their Master, their Benefactor,
their Consoler, dragged through the streets, torn, bruised, and ill-treated
in every imaginable way, filled them with horror; and their grief was still
farther increased by beholding his afflicted Mother wandering about from
street to street, accompanied by the holy women, and endeavouring to obtain
some intelligence concerning her Divine Son. These holy women ware often
obliged to hide in corners and under door-ways for fear of being seen by the
enemies of Jesus; but even with these precautions they were oftentimes
insulted, and taken for women of bad charactertheir feelings were
frequently harrowed by hearing the malignant words and triumphant
expressions of the cruel Jews, and seldom, very seldom, did a word of
kindness of pity strike their ears. They were completely exhausted before
reaching their place of refuge, but they endeavoured to console and support
one another, and wrapped thick veils over their heads. When at last seated,
they heard a sudden knock at the door, and listened breathlesslythe knock
was repeated, but softly, therefore they made certain that it was no enemy,
and yet they opened the door cautiously, fearing a stratagem. It was indeed
a friend, and they eagerly questioned him, but derived no consolation from
his words; therefore, unable to rest quiet any longer, they issued forth and
walked about for a time, and then again returned to their place of
refugestill more heartbroken than before.

The majority of the Apostles, overcome with terror, wore wandering about
among the valleys which surround Jerusalem, and at times took refuge in the
caverns beneath Mount Olivet. They started if they came in contact with one
another, Spoke in trembling tones, and separated on the least noise being
heard. First they concealed themselves in one cave and then in another, next
they endeavoured to return to the town, while some of their number climbed
to the top of Mount Olivet and cast anxious glances at the torches, the
light of which they could see glimmering at and about Sion; they listened to
every distant sound, made a thousand different conjectures, and then
returned to the valley, in hopes of getting some certain intelligence.

The streets in the vicinity of Caiphas™s tribunal were brightly illuminated
with lamps and torches, but, as the crowds gathered around it, the noise and
confusion continued to increase. Mingling with these discordant sounds might
be heard the bellowing of the beasts which were tethered on the outside of
the walls of Jerusalem. and the plaintive bleating of the lambs. There was
something most touching in the bleating of these lambs, which were to be
sacrificed on the following day in the Temple,the one Lamb alone who was
about to be offered a willing sacrifice opened not his mouth, like a sheep
in the hands of the butcher, which resists not, or the lamb which is silent
before the shearer; and that Lamb was the Lamb of God-the Lamb without
spotthe true Paschal LambJesus Christ himself.

The sky looked dark, gloomy, and threatening-the moon was red, and covered
with livid spots; it appeared as if dreading to reach its full, because its
Creator was then to die.

Next I cast a glance outside the town, and, near the south gate, I beheld
the traitor, Judas Iscariot, wandering about, alone, and a prey to the
tortures of his guilty conscience; he feared even his own shadow, and was
followed by many devils, who endeavoured to turn his feelings of remorse
into black despair. Thousands of evil spirits were busying themselves in all
parts, tempting men first to one sin and then to another. It appeared as if
the gates of hell were flung open, and Satan madly striving and exerting his
whole energies to increase the heavy load of iniquities which the Lamb
without spot had taken upon himself. The angels wavered between joy and
grief; they desired ardently to fall prostrate before the throne of God, and
to obtain permission to assist Jesus; but at the same time they were filled
with astonishment, and could only adore that miracle of Divine justice and
mercy which had existed in Heaven for all eternity, and was now about to be
accomplished; for the angels believe, like us, in God, the Father Almighty,
Creator of Heaven and Earth, and in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,
who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, who began on
this night to suffer under Pontius Pilate, and the next day was to be
crucified, to die, and be buried; descend into hell, rise again on the third
day, ascend into Heaven, be seated at the right hand of God the Father
Almighty, and from thence come to judge the living and the dead; they
likewise believe in the Holy Ghost, the Holy Catholic Church, the communion
of Saints, the forgiveness of sins, the resurrection of the body, and life
everlasting.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER VI.

Jesus before Annas.

IT was towards midnight when Jesus reached the palace of Annas, and his
guards immediately conducted him into a very large hall, where Annas,
surrounded by twenty-eight councillors, was seated on a species of platform,
raised a little above the level of the floor, and placed opposite to the
entrance. The soldiers who first arrested Jesus now dragged him roughly to
the foot of the tribunal. The room was quite full, between soldiers, the
servants of Annas, a number of the mob who had been admitted, and the false
witnesses who afterwards adjourned to Caiphas™s hall.

Annas was delighted at the thought of our Lord being brought before him, and
was looking out for his arrival with the greatest impatience. The expression
of his countenance was most repulsive, as it showed in every lineament not
only the infernal joy with which he was filled, but likewise all the cunning
and duplicity of his heart. He was the president of a species of tribunal
instituted for the purpose of examining persons accused of teaching false
doctrines; and if convicted there, they were then taken before the High
Priest.

Jesus stood before Annas. He looked exhausted and haggard; his garments were
covered with mud, his hands manacled, his head bowed down, and he spoke not
a word. Annas was a thin ill-humoured-looking old man, with a scraggy beard.
His pride and arrogance were great; and as he seated himself he smiled
ironically, pretending that he knew nothing at all, and that he was
perfectly astonished at finding that the prisoner, whom he had just been
informed was to be˜brought before him, was no other than Jesus of Nazareth.
˜Is it possible,™ said he,˜is it possible that thou art Jesus of Nazareth?
Where are thy disciples, thy numerous followers? Where is thy kingdom? I
fear affairs have not turned out as thou didst expect. The authorities, I
presume, discovered that it was quite time to put a stop to thy conduct,
disrespectful as it was towards God and his priests, and to such violations
of the Sabbath. What disciples hast thou now? Where are they all gone? Thou
art silent! Speak out, seducer! speak out, thou inciter of rebellion! Didst
thou not eat the Paschal lamb in an unlawful manner, at an improper time,
and in an improper place? Dost thou not desire to introduce new doctrines?
Who gave thee the right of preaching? Where didst thou study? Speak, what
are the tenets of thy religion?™

Jesus then raised his weary head, looked at Annas, and said,˜I have spoken
openly to the world; I have always taught in the synagogue, and in the
Temple, whither all the Jews resort; and in secret I have spoken nothing.
Why askest thou me? Ask them who have heard what I have spoken unto them;
behold, they know what things I have said.™

At this answer of Jesus the countenance of Annas flushed with fury and
indignation. A base menial who was standing near perceived this, and he
immediately struck our Lord on the face with his iron gauntlet, exclaiming
at the same moment,˜Answerest thou the High Priest so?™ Jesus was so nearly
prostrated by the violence of the blow, that when the guards likewise
reviled and struck him, he fell quite down, and blood trickled from his face
on to the floor. Laughter, insults, and bitter words resounded through the
hall. The archers dragged him roughly up again, and he mildly answered,˜If
I have spoken evil, give testimony of the evil; but if well, why strikest
thou me?™

Annas became still more enraged when he saw the calm demeanour of Jesus,
and, turning to the witnesses, he desired them to bring forward their
accusations. They all began to speak at once:˜He has called himself king;
he says that God is his Father; that the Pharisees are an adulterous
generation. He causes insurrection among the people; he cures the sick by
the help of the devil on the Sabbath-day. The inhabitants of Ophel assembled
round him a short time ago, and addressed him by the titles of Saviour and
Prophet. He lets himself be called the Son of God; he says that he is sent
by God; he predicts the destruction of Jerusalem. He does not fast; he eats
with sinners, with pagans, and with publicans, and associates with women of
evil repute. A short time ago he said to a man who gave him some water to
drink at the gates of Ophel,œthat he would give unto him the waters of
eternal life, after drinking which he would thirst no more.� He seduces the
people by words of double meaning,™ &c., &c.

These accusations were all vociferated at once; some of the witnesses Stood
before Jesus and insulted him while they spoke by derisive gestures, and the
archers went so far as oven to strike him, saying at the same time,˜Speak;
why dost thou not answer?™ Annas and his adherents added mockery to insult,
exclaiming at every pause in the accusations,˜This is thy doctrine, then,
is it? What canst thou answer to this? Issue thy orders, great King; man
sent by God, give proofs of thy mission.™˜Who art thou?™ continued Annas,
in a tone of cutting contempt;˜by whom art thou sent? Art thou the son of
an obscure carpenter, or art thou Elias, who was carried up to heaven in a
fiery chariot? He is said to be still living, and I have been told that thou
canst make thyself invisible when thou pleasest. Perhaps thou art the
prophet Malachy, whose words thou dost so frequently quote. Some say that an
angel was his father, and that he likewise is still alive. An impostor as
thou art could not have a finer opportunity of taking persons in than by
passing thyself off as this prophet. Tell me, without farther preamble, to
what order of kings thou dost belong? Thou art greater than Solomon,at
least thou pretendest so to be, and dost even expect to be believed. Be
easy, I will no longer refuse the title and the sceptre which are so justly
thy due.™

Annas then called for the sheet of parchment, about a yard in length, and
six inches in width; on this he wrote a series of words in large letters,
and each word expressed some different accusation which had been brought
against our Lord. He then rolled it up, placed it in a little hollow tube,
fastened it carefully on the top of. a reed, and presented this reed to
Jesus, saying at the same time, with a contemptuous sneer,˜Behold the
sceptre of thy kingdom; it contains thy titles, as also the account of the
honours to which thou art entitled, and of thy right to the throne. Take
them to; the High Priest, in order that he may acknowledge thy regal
dignity, and treat thee according to thy deserts. Tie the hands of this
king, and take him before the High Priest.™

The hands of Jesus, which had been loosened, were then tied across his
breast in such a manner as to make him hold the pretended sceptre, which
contained the accusations of Annas, and he was led to the Court of Caiphas,
amidst the hisses, shouts, and blows lavished upon him by the brutal mob.

The house of Annas was not more than three hundred steps from that of
Caiphas; there were high walls and common-looking houses on each side of the
road, which was lighted up by torches and lanterns placed on poles, and
there were numbers of Jews standing about talking m an angry excited manner.
The soldiers could scarcely make their way through the crowd, and those who
had behaved so shamefully to Jesus at the Court of Annas continued their
insults and base usage during the whole of the time spent in walking to the
house of Caiphas. I saw money given to those who behaved the worst to Jesus
by armed men belonging to the tribunal, and I saw them push out of the way
all who looked compassionately at him. The former wore allowed to enter the
Court of Caiphas.
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CHAPTER VII.

The Tribunal of Caiphas.

To enter Caiphas™s tribunal persons had to pass through a large court, which
maybe called the exterior court; from thence they entered into an inner
court, which extended all round the building. The building itself was of far
greater length than breadth, and in the front there was a kind of open
vestibule surrounded on three sides by columns of no great height. On the
fourth side the columns were higher, and behind them was a room almost as
large as the vestibule itself, where the seats of the members of the Council
were placed on a species of round platform raised, above the level of the
floor. That assigned to the High Priest was elevated above the others; the
criminal to be tried stood in the centre of the half-circle formed by the
seats. The witnesses and accusers stood either by the side or behind the
prisoner. There were three doors at the back of the judges` seats which led
into another apartment, filled likewise with seats. This room was used for
secret consultation. Entrances placed on the right and left hand sides of
this room opened into the interior court, which was round, like the back of
the building. Those who left the room by the door on the right-hand side saw
on the left-hand side of the court the gate which led to a subterranean
prison excavated under the room. There were many underground prisons there,
and it was in one of these that Peter and John were confined a whole night,
when they had cured the lame man in the Temple after Pentecost. Both the
house and the courts were filled with torches and lamps, which made them as
light as day. There was a large fire lighted in the middle of the porch, on
each side of which were hollow pipes to serve as chimneys for the smoke, and
round this fire were standing soldiers, menial servants, and witnesses of
the lowest class who had received bribes for giving their false testimony. A
few women were there likewise, whose employment was to pour out a species of
red beverage for the soldiers, and to bake cakes, for which services they
received a small compensation. The majority of the judges were already
seated around Caiphas, the others came in shortly afterwards, and the porch
was almost filled, between true and false witnesses, while many other
persons likewise endeavoured to come in to gratify their curiosity, but were
prevented. Peter and John entered the outer court, in the dress of
travellers, a short time before Jesus was led through, and John succeeded in
penetrating into the inner court, by means of a servant with whom he was
acquainted. The door was instantly closed after him, therefore Peter, who
was a little behind, was shut out. He begged the maid-servant to open the
door for him, but she refused both his entreaties and those of John, and he
must have remained on the outside had not Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea,
who came up at this moment, taken him with them. The two Apostles then
returned the cloaks which they had borrowed, and stationed themselves in a
place from whence they could see the judges, and hear everything that was
going on. Caiphas was seated in the centre of the raised platform, and
seventy of the members of the Sanhedrim were placed around him, while the
public officers, the Scribes, and the ancients were standing on either side,
and the false witnesses behind them. Soldiers were posted from the base of
the platform to the door of the vestibule through which Jesus was to enter.
The countenance of Caiphas was solemn in the extreme, but the gravity was
accompanied by unmistakable signs of suppressed rage and sinister
intentions. He wore a long mantle of a dull red colour, embroidered in
flowers and trimmed with golden fringe; it was fastened at the shoulders and
on the chest, besides being ornamented in the front with gold clasps. His
head-attire was high, and adorned with hanging ribbons, the sides were open,
and it rather resembled a bishop™s mitre. Caiphas had been waiting with his
adherents belonging to the Great Council for some time, and so impatient was
he that he arose several times, went into the outer court in his magnificent
dress, and asked angrily whether Jesus of Nazareth was come. When he saw the
procession drawing near he returned to his seat.
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CHAPTER VIII.

Jesus before Caiphas.

JESUS was led across the court, and the mob received him with groans and
hisses. As he passed by Peter and John, he looked at them, but without
turning his head, for fear of betraying them. Scarcely had he reached the
council-chamber, than Caiphas exclaimed in a loud tone,˜Thou art come,
then, at last, thou enemy of God, thou blasphemer, who dost disturb the
peace of this holy night!™ The tube which contained the accusations of
Annas, and was fastened to the pretended sceptre in the hands of Jesus, was
instantly opened and read.

Caiphas made use of the most insulting language, and the archers again
struck and abused our Lord, vociferating at the same time,˜Answer at once!
Speak out! Art thou dumb?™ Caiphas, whose temper was indescribably proud and
arrogant, became even more enraged than Annas had been, and asked a thousand
questions one after the other, but Jesus stood before him in silence, and
with his eyes cast down. The archers endeavoured to force him to speak by
repeated blows, and a malicious child pressed his thumb into his lips,
tauntingly bidding him to bite. The witnesses were then called for. The
first wore persons of the lowest class, whose accusations were as incoherent
and inconsistent as those brought forward at the court of Annas, and nothing
could be made out of them; Caiphas therefore turned to the principal
witnesses, the Pharisees and the Sadducees, who had assembled from all parts
of the country. They endeavoured to speak calmly, but their faces and manner
betrayed the virulent envy and hatred with which their hearts were
overflowing, and they repeated over and over again the same accusations, to
which he had already replied so many times:˜That he cured the sick, and
cast out devils, by the help of devilsthat he profaned the Sabbathincited
the people to rebelcalled the Pharisees a race of vipers and
adultererspredicted the destruction of Jerusalemfrequented the society of
publicans and sinnersassembled the people and gave himself out as a king, a
prophet, and the Son of God.™ They deposed˜that he was constantly speaking
of his kingdom,that he forbade divorce,called himself the Bread of Life,
and said that whoever did not eat his flesh and drink his blood would not
have eternal life.™

Thus did they distort and misinterpret the words he had uttered, the
instructions he had given, and the parables by which he had illustrated his
instructions, giving them the semblance of crimes. But these witnesses could
not agree in their depositions, for one said,˜He calls himself king;™ and a
second instantly contradicted, saying,˜No, he allows persons to call him
so; but directly they attempted to proclaim him, he fled.™ Another said,˜He
calls himself the Son of God,™ but he was interrupted by a fourth, who
exclaimed,˜No, he only styles himself the Son of God because he does the
will of his Heavenly Father.™ Some of the witnesses stated that he had cured
them, but that their diseases had returned, and that his pretended cures
were only performed by magic. They spoke likewise of the cure of the
paralytic man at the pool of Bethsaida, but they distorted the facts so as
to give them the semblance of crimes, and even in these accusations they
could not agree, contradicting one another. The Pharisees of Sephoris, with
whom he had once had a discussion on the subject of divorces, accused him of
teaching false doctrines, and a young man of Nazareth, whom he had refused
to allow to become one of his disciples, was likewise base enough to bear
witness against him.

It was found to be utterly impossible to prove a single fact, and the
witnesses appeared to come forward for the sole purpose of insulting Jesus,
rather than to demonstrate the truth of their statements. Whilst they were
disputing with one another, Caiphas and some of the other members of the
Council employed themselves in questioning Jesus, and turning his answers
into derision.˜What species of king art thou˜Give proofs of thy power!
Call the legions of angels of whom thou didst speak in the Garden of Olives!
What hast thou done with the money given unto thee by the widows, and other
simpletons whom thou didst seduce by thy false doctrines? Answer at once:
speak out,art thou dumb? Thou wouldst have been far wiser to have kept
silence when in the midst of the foolish mob: there thou didst speak far too
much.™

All these questions were accompanied by blows from the under-servants of the
members of the tribunal, and had our Lord not been supported from above, he
could not have survived this treatment. Some of the base witnesses
endeavoured to prove that he was an illegitimate son; but others declared
that his mother was a pious Virgin, belonging to the Temple, and that they
afterwards saw her betrothed to a man who feared God. The witnesses
upbraided Jesus and his disciples with not having offered sacrifice in the
Temple. It is true that I never did see either Jesus or his disciples offer
any sacrifice in the Temple, excepting the Paschal lamb; but Joseph and Anna
used frequently during their lifetime to offer sacrifice for the Child
Jesus. However, even this accusation was puerile, for the Essenians never
offered sacrifice, and no one thought the less well of them for not doing
so. The enemies of Jesus still continued to accuse him of being a sorcerer,
and Caiphas affirmed several times that the confusion in the statements of
the witnesses was caused solely by witchcraft.

Some said that he had eaten the Paschal lamb on the previous day, which was
contrary to the law, and that the year before he had made different
alterations in the manner of celebrating this ceremony. But the witnesses
contradicted one another to such a degree that Caiphas and his adherents
found, to their very great annoyance and anger, that not one accusation
could be really proved. Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea were called up,
and being commanded to say how it happened that they had allowed him to eat
the Pasch on the wrong day in a room which belonged to them, they proved
from ancient documents that from time immemorial the Galilæans had been
allowed to eat the Pasch a day earlier than the rest of the Jews. They added
that every other part of the ceremony had been performed according to the
directions given in the law, and that persons belonging to the Temple were
present at the supper. This quite puzzled the witnesses, and Nicodemus
increased the rage of the enemies of Jesus by pointing out the passages in
the archives which proved the right of the Galilæans, and gave the reason
for which this privilege was granted. The reason was this: the sacrifices
would not have been finished by the Sabbath if the immense multitudes who
congregated together for that purpose had all been obliged to perform the
ceremony on the same day; and although the Galilæans had not always profited
by this right, yet its existence was incontestably proved by Nicodemus; and
the anger of the Pharisees was heightened by his remarking that the members
of the Council had cause to be greatly offended at the gross contradictions
in the statements of the witnesses, and that the extraordinary and hurried
manner in which the whole affair had been conducted showed that malice and
envy were the sole motives which induced the accusers, and made them bring
the case forward at a moment when all were busied in the preparations for
the most solemn feast of the year. They looked at Nicodemus furiously, and
could not reply, but continued to question the witnesses in a still more
precipitate and imprudent manner. Two witnesses at last came forward, who
said,˜This man said,œI will destroy this Temple made with hands, and
within three days I will build another not made with hands.�™ However, even
these witnesses did not agree in their statements, for one said that the
accused wished to build a new Temple, and that he had eaten the Pasch in an
unusual place, because he desired the destruction of the ancient Temple; but
the other said,˜Not so: the edifice where he ate the Pasch was built by
human hands, therefore he could not have referred to that.™

The wrath of Caiphas was indescribable; for the cruel treatment which Jesus
had suffered, his Divine patience, and the contradictions of the witnesses,
were beginning to make a great impression on many persons present, a few
hisses were heard, and the hearts of some were So touched that they could
not silence the voice of their consciences. Ten soldiers left the court
under pretext of indisposition, but in reality overcome by their feelings.
As they passed by the place where Peter and John were standing, they
exclaimed,˜The silence of Jesus of Nazareth, in the midst of such cruel
treatment, is superhuman: it would melt a heart of iron: the wonder is, that
the earth does not open and swallow such reprobates as his accusers mast be.
But tell us, where must we go?™ The two Apostles either mistrusted the
soldiers, and thought they were only seeking to betray them, or they were
fearful of being recognised by those around and denounced as disciples of
Jesus, for they only made answer in a melancholy tone:˜If truth calls you,
follow it, and all will come right of itself.™ The soldiers instantly went
out of the room, and left Jerusalem soon after. They met persons on the
outskirts of the town, who directed them to the caverns which lay to the
south of Jerusalem, on the other side of Mount Sion, where many of the
Apostles had taken refuge. These latter were at first alarmed at seeing
strangers enter their hiding-place; but the soldiers soon dispelled all
fear, and gave them an account of the sufferings of Jesus.

The temper of Caiphas, which was already perturbed, became quite infuriated
by the contradictory statements of the two last witnesses, and rising from
his seat he approached Jesus, and said:˜Answerest thou nothing to the
things which these witness against thee?™

Jesus neither raised his head nor looked at the High Priest, which increased
the anger of the latter to the greatest degree; and the archers perceiving
this seized our Lord by the hair, pulled his head back, and gave him blows
under the chin; but he still kept his eyes cast down. Caiphas raised his
hands, and exclaimed in an enraged tone:˜I adjure thee by the living God
that thou tell us if thou be Christ the Messiah, the son of the living
God?™

A momentary and solemn pause ensued. Then Jesus in a majestic and superhuman
voice replied,˜Thou hast said it. Nevertheless I say to you, Hereafter you
shall see the Son of Man sitting on the right hand of the power of God, and
coming in the clouds of Heaven.™ Whilst Jesus was pronouncing these words, a
bright light appeared to me to surround him; Heaven was opened above his
head; I saw the Eternal Father; but no words from a human pen can describe
the intuitive view that was then vouchsafed me of him. I likewise saw the
angels, and the prayers of the just ascending to the throne of God.

At the same moment I perceived the yawning abyss of hell like a fiery meteor
at the feet of Caiphas; it was filled with horrible devils; a slight gauze
alone appeared to separate him from its dark flames. I could see the
demoniacal fury with which his heart was overflowing, and the whole house
looked to me like hell. At the moment that our Lord pronounced the solemn
words,˜I am the Christ, the Son of the living God,™ hell appeared to be
shaken from one extremity to the other, and then, as it were, to burst forth
and inundate every person in the house of Caiphas with feelings of redoubled
hatred towards our Lord. These things are always shown to me under the
appearance of some material object, which renders them less difficult of
comprehension, and impresses them in a more clear and forcible manner on the
mind, because we ourselves being material beings, facts are more easily
illustrated in our regard if manifested through the medium of the senses.
The despair and fury which these words produced in hell were shown to me
under the appearance of a thousand terrific figures in different places. I
remember seeing, among other frightful things, a number of little black
objects, like dogs with claws, which walked on their hind legs; I knew at
the time what kind of wickedness was indicated by this apparition, but I
cannot remember now. I saw these horrible phantoms enter into the bodies of
the greatest part of the bystanders, or else place themselves on their head
or shoulders. I likewise at this moment saw frightful spectres come out of
the sepulchres on the other side of Sion; I believe they were evil spirits.
I saw in the neighbourhood of the Temple many other apparitions, which
resembled prisoners loaded with chains: I do not know whether they were
demons, or souls condemned to remain in some particular part of the earth,
and who were then going to Limbo, which our Lord™s condemnation to death had
opened to them.

It is extremely difficult to explain these facts, for fear of scandalising
those who have no knowledge of such things; but persons who see feel them,
and they often cause the very hair to stand on end on the head. I think that
John saw some of these apparitions, for I heard him speak about them
afterwards. All whose hearts were not radically corrupted felt excessively
terrified at these events, but the hardened were sensible of nothing but an
increase of hatred and anger against our Lord.

Caiphas then arose, and, urged on by Satan, took up the end of his mantle,
pierced it with his knife, and rent it from one end to the other, exclaiming
at the same time, in a loud voice,˜He hath blasphemed, what further need
have we of witnesses? Behold, now you have heard the blasphemy: what think
you?™ All who wore then present arose, and exclaimed with astounding
malignancy,˜He is guilty of death!™

During the whole of this frightful scene, the devils were in the most
tremendous state of excitement; they appeared to have complete possession
not only of the enemies of Jesus, but likewise of their partisans and
cowardly followers. The powers of darkness seemed to me to proclaim a
triumph over the light, and the few among the spectators whose hearts still
retained a glimmering of light were filled with such consternation that,
covering their heads, they instantly departed. The witnesses who belonged to
the upper classes were less hardened than the others; their consciences were
racked with remorse, and they followed the example given by the persons
mentioned above, and left the room as quickly as possible, while the rest
crowded round the fire in the vestibule, and ate and drank after receiving
full pay for their services. The High Priest then addressed the archers, and
said,˜I deliver this king up into your hands; render the blasphemer the
honours which are his due.™ After these words he retired with the members of
his Council into the round room behind the tribunal, which could not be seen
from the vestibule.

In the midst of the bitter affliction which inundated the heart of John, his
thoughts were with the Mother of Jesus; he feared that the dreadful news of
the condemnation of her Son might be communicated to her suddenly, or that
perhaps some enemy might give the information in a heartless manner. He
therefore looked at Jesus, and saying in a low voice,˜Lord, thou knowest
why I leave thee,™ went away quickly to seek the Blessed Virgin, as if he
had been sent by Jesus himself. Peter was quite over. come between anxiety
and sorrow, which, joined to fatigue, made him chilly; therefore, as the
morning was cold, he went up to the fire where many of the common people
were warming themselves. He did his best to hide his grief in their
presence, as he could not make up his mind to go home and leave his beloved
Master.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER IX.

The Insults received by Jesus in the Court of Caiphas.

No sooner did Caiphas, with the other members of the Council, leave the
tribunal than a crowd of miscreantsthe very scum of the peoplesurrounded
Jesus like a swarm of infuriated wasps, and began to heap every imaginable
insult upon him. Even during the trial, whilst the witnesses were speaking,
the archers and some others could not restrain their cruel inclinations, but
pulled out handfuls of his hair and beard, spat upon him, struck him with
their fists, wounded him with sharp-pointed sticks, and even ran needles
into his body; but when Caiphas left the hall they set no bounds to their
barbarity. They first placed a crown, made of straw and the bark of trees,
upon his head, and then took it off, saluting him at the same time with
insulting expressions, like the following:˜Behold the Son of David wearing
the crown of his father.™˜A greater than Solomon is here; this is the king
who is preparing a wedding feast for his son.™ Thus did they turn into
ridicule those eternal truths which he had taught under the form of parables
to those whom he came from heaven to save; and whilst repeating these
scoffing words, they continued to strike him with their fists and sticks,
and to spit in his face. Next they put a crown of reeds upon his head, took
off his robe and scapular, and then threw an old torn mantle, which scarcely
reached his knees, over his shoulders; around his neck they hung a long iron
chain, with an iron ring at each end, studded with sharp points, which
bruised and tore his knees as he walked. They again pinioned his arms, put a
reed into his hand, and covered his Divine countenance with spittle. They
had already thrown all sorts of filth over his hair, as well as over his
chest, and upon the old mantle. They bound his eyes with a dirty rag, and
struck him, crying out at the same time in loud tones,˜Prophesy unto us, O
Christ, who is he that struck thee?™ He answered not one word, but sighed,
and prayed inwardly for them.

After many more insults, they seized the chain which was hanging on his
neck, dragged him towards the room into which the Council had withdrawn, and
with their sticks forced him in, vociferating at the same time,˜March
forward, thou King of Straw! Show thyself to the Council with the insignia
of the regal honours we have rendered unto thee.™ A large body of
councillors, with Caiphas at their head, were still in the room, and they
looked with both delight and approbation at the shameful scene which was
enacted, beholding with pleasure the most sacred ceremonies turned into
derision. The pitiless guards covered him with mud and spittle, and with
mock gravity exclaimed,˜Receive the prophetic unctionthe regal unction.™
Then they impiously parodied the baptismal ceremonies, and the pious act of
Magdalen in emptying the vase of perfume on his head.˜How canst thou
presume,™ they exclaimed,˜to appear before the Council in such a condition?
Thou dost purify others, and thou art not pure thyself; but we will soon
purify thee.™ They fetched a basin of dirty water, which they poured over
his face and shoulders, whilst they bent their knees before him, and
exclaimed,˜Behold thy precious unction, behold the spikenard worth three
hundred pence; thou hast been baptised in the pool of Bethsaida.™ They
intended by this to throw into ridicule the act of respect and veneration
shown by Magdalen, when she poured the precious ointment over his head, at
the house of the Pharisee.

By their derisive words concerning his baptism in the pool of Bethsaida,
they pointed out, although unintentionally, the resemblance between Jesus
and the Paschal lamb, for the lambs were washed in the first place in the
pond near the Probatica gate, and then brought to the pool of Bethsaida,
where they underwent another purification before being taken to the Temple
to be sacrificed. The enemies of Jesus likewise alluded to the man who had
been infirm for thirty-eight years, and who was cured by Jesus at the pool
of Bethsaida; for I saw this man either washed or baptised there; I say
either washed or baptised, because I do not exactly remember the
circumstances.

They then dragged Jesus round the room, before all the members of the
Council, who continued to address him in reproachful and abusive language.
Every countenance looked diabolical and enraged, and all around was dark,
confused, and terrific. Our Lord, on the contrary, was from the moment that
he declared himself to be the Son of God, generally surrounded with a halo
of light. Many of the assembly appeared to have a confused knowledge of this
fact, and to be filled with consternation at perceiving that neither
outrages or ignominies could alter the majestic expression of his
countenance.

The halo which shone around Jesus from the moment he declared himself to be
the Christ, the Son of the Living God, served but to incite his enemies to
greater fury, and. yet it was so resplendent that they could not look at it,
and I believe their intention in throwing the dirty rag over his head was to
deaden its brightness.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER X.

The Denial of St. Peter.

AT the moment when Jesus uttered the words,˜Thou hast said it,™ and the
High Priest rent his garment, the whole room resounded with tumultuous
cries. Peter and John, who had suffered intensely during the scene which had
just been enacted, and which they had been obliged to witness in silence,
could bear the sight no longer. Peter therefore got up to leave the room,
and John followed soon after. The latter went to the Blessed Virgin, who was
in the house of Martha with the holy women, but Peter™s love for Jesus was
so great, that he could not make up his mind to leave him; his heart was
bursting, and he wept bitterly, although he endeavoured to restrain and hide
his tears. It was impossible for him to remain in the tribunal, as his deep
emotion at the sight of his beloved Master™s sufferings would have betrayed
him; therefore he went into the vestibule and approached the fire, around
which soldiers and common people were sitting and talking in the most
heartless and disgusting manner concerning the sufferings of Jesus, and
relating all that they themselves had done to him Peter was silent, but his
silence and dejected demeanour made the bystanders suspect something. The
portress came up to the fire in the midst of the conversation, cast a bold
glance at Peter and said,˜Thou also wast with. Jesus the Galilæan.™ These
words startled and alarmed Peter; he trembled as to what might ensue if he
owned the truth before his brutal companions, and therefore answered
quickly,˜Woman, I know him not,™ got up, and left the vestibule. At this
moment the cock crowed somewhere in the outskirts of the town. I do not
remember hearing it, but I felt that it was crowing. As he went out, another
maid-servant looked at him, and said to those, who were with her,˜This man
was also with him,™ and the persons she addressed immediately demanded of
Peter whether her words were true, saying,˜Art thou not one of this man™s
disciples?™ Peter was even more alarmed than before, and renewed his denial
in these words,˜I am not; I know not the man.™

He left the inner court, and entered the exterior court; he was weeping, and
so great was his anxiety and grief, that he did not reflect in the least on
the words he had just uttered. The exterior court was quite filled with
persons, and some had climbed on to the top of the wall to listen to what
was going on in the inner court which they were forbidden to enter. A few of
the disciples were likewise there, for their anxiety concerning Jesus was so
great that they could not make up their minds to remain concealed in the
eaves of Hinnom. They came up to Peter, and with many tears questioned him
concerning their loved Master, but be was so unnerved and so fearful of
betraying himself, that he briefly recommended them to go away, as it was
dangerous to remain, and left them instantly. He continued to indulge his
violent grief, while they hastened to leave the town. I recognised among
these disciples, who were about sixteen in number, Bartholomew, Nathaniel,
Saturninus, Judas Barsabeas, Simon, who was afterwards bishop of Jerusalem,
Zacheus, and Manahem, the man who was born blind and cured by our Lord.

Peter could not rest anywhere, and his love for Jesus prompted him to return
to the inner court, which he was allowed to enter, because Joseph of
Arimathea and Nicodemus had, in the first instance, taken him in. He did not
reënter the vestibule, but turned to the right and went towards the round
room which was behind the tribunal, and in which Jesus was undergoing every
possible insult and ignominy from his cruel enemies. Peter walked timidly up
to the door, and although perfectly conscious that he was suspected by all
present of being a partisan of Jesus, yet he could not remain outside; his
love for his Master impelled him forward; he entered the room, advanced, and
soon stood in the very midst of the brutal throng who were feasting their
cruel eyes on the sufferings of Jesus. They were at that moment dragging him
ignominiously backwards and forwards with the crown of straw upon his head;
he cast a sorrowful and even severe glance upon Peter, which cut him to the
heart, but as he was still much alarmed, and at that moment heard some of
the bystanders call out,˜Who is that man?™ he went back again into the
court, and seeing that the persons in the vestibule were watching him, came
up to the fire and remained before it for some time. Several persons who had
observed his anxious troubled countenance began to speak in opprobrious
terms of Jesus, and one of them said to him,˜Thou also art one of his
disciples; thou also art a Galilæan; thy very speech betrays thee.™ Peter
got up, intending to leave the room, when a brother of Malchus came up to
him and said,˜Did I not see thee in the garden with him? didst thou not cut
off my brother™s ear?™

Peter became almost beside himself with terror; he began to curse and to
swear˜that he knew not the man,™ and ran out of the vestibule into the
outer court; the cock then crowed again, and Jesus, who at that moment was
led across the court, cast a look of mingled compassion and grief upon his
Apostle. This look of our Lord pierced Peter to the very heart,it recalled
to his mind in the most forcible and terrible manner the words addressed to
him by our Lord on the previous evening:˜Before the cock crows twice, thou
shalt thrice deny me.™ He had forgotten all his promises and protestations
to our Lord, that he would die rather than deny himhe had forgotten the
warning given to him by our Lord;but when Jesus looked at him, he felt the
enormity of his fault, and his heart was nigh bursting with grief. He had
denied his Lord, when that beloved Master was outraged, insulted, delivered
up into the hands of unjust judges,when he was suffering all in patience
and in silence. His feelings of remorse were beyond expression; he returned
to the exterior court, covered his face and wept bitterly; all fear of being
recognised was over;he was ready to proclaim to the whole universe both his
fault and his repentance.

What man will dare assert that he would have shown more courage than Peter
if, with his quick and ardent temperament, he were exposed to such danger,
trouble, and sorrow, at a moment, too, when completely unnerved between fear
and grief, and exhausted by the sufferings of this sad night? Our Lord left
Peter to his own strength, and he was weak, like all who forget the words:
˜Watch and pray, that ye enter not into temptation.™
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CHAPTER XI.

Mary in the House of Caiphas.

THE Blessed Virgin was ever united to her Divine Son by interior spiritual
communications; she was, therefore, fully aware of all that happened to
himshe suffered with him, and joined in his continual prayer for his
murderers. But her maternal feelings prompted her to supplicate Almighty God
most ardently not to suffer the crime to be completed, and to save her Son
from such dreadful torments. She eagerly desired to return to him; and when
John, who had left the tribunal at the moment the frightful cry,˜He is
guilty of death,™ was raised, came to the house of Lazarus to see after her,
and to relate the particulars of the dreadful scene he had just witnessed,
she, as also Magdalen and some of the other holy women, begged to be taken
to the place where Jesus was suffering John, who had only left our Saviour
in order to console her whom he loved best next to his Divine Master,
instantly acceded to their request, and conducted them through the streets,
which were lighted up by the moon alone, and crowded with persons hastening
to their homes. The holy women were closely veiled; but the sobs which they
could not restrain made many who passed by observe them, and their feelings
were harrowed by the abusive epithets they overheard bestowed upon Jesus by
those who were conversing on the subject of his arrest. The Blessed Virgin,
who ever beheld in spirit the opprobrious treatment her dear Son was
receiving, continued˜to lay up all these things in her heart;™ like him she
suffered in silence; but more than once she became totally unconscious. Some
disciples of Jesus, who were returning from the hall of Caiphas, saw her
fainting in the arms of the holy women, and, touched with pity, stopped to
look at her compassionately, and saluted her in these words:˜Hail! unhappy
Motherhail, Mother of the Most Holy One of Israel, the most afflicted of
all mothers!™ Mary raised her head, thanked them gratefully, and continued
her sad journey.

When in the vicinity of Caiphas™s house, their grief was renewed by the
sight of a group of men who were busily occupied under a tent, making the
cross ready for our Lord™s crucifixion. The enemies of Jesus had given
orders that the cross should be prepared directly after his arrest, that
they might without delay execute the sentence which they hoped to persuade
Pilate to pass on him. The Romans had already prepared the crosses of the
two thieves, and the workmen who were making that of Jesus were much annoyed
at being obliged to labour at it during the night; they did not attempt to
conceal their anger at this, and uttered the most frightful oaths and
curses, which pierced the heart of the tender Mother of Jesus through and
through; but she prayed for these blind creatures who thus unknowingly
blasphemed the Saviour who was about to die for their salvation, and
prepared the cross for his cruel execution.

˜Mary, John, and the holy women traversed the outer court attached to
Caiphas™s house. They stopped under the archway of a door which opened into
the inner court. Mary™s heart was with her Divine Son, and she desired most
ardently to see this door opened, that she might again have a chance of
beholding him, for she knew that it alone separated her from the prison
where he was confined. The door was at length opened, and Peter rushed out,
his face covered with his mantle, wringing his hands, and weeping bitterly.
By the light of the torches he soon recognised John and the Blessed Virgin,
but the sight of them only renewed those dreadful feelings of remorse which
the look of Jesus had awakened in his breast, Mary approached him instantly,
and said,˜Simon, tell me, I entreat you, what is become of Jesus, my
Son!™ These words pierced his very heart; he could not even look at her, but
turned away, and again wrung his hands. Mary drew close to him, and said in
a voice trembling with emotion:˜Simon, son of John, why dost thou not
answer me?™˜Mother!™ exclaimed Peter, in a dejected tone,˜O, Mother, speak
not to methy Son is suffering more than words can express: speak not to me!
They have condemned him to death, and I have denied him. three times.™ John
came up to ask a few more questions, but Peter ran out of the court as if
beside himself, and did not stop for a single moment until he reached the
cave at Mount Olivetthat cave on the stones of which the impression of the
hands of our Saviour had been miraculously left. I believe it is the cave in
which Adam took refuge to weep after his fall.

The Blessed Virgin was inexpressibly grieved at hearing of the fresh pang
inflicted on the loving heart of her Divine Son, the pang of hearing himself
denied by that disciple who had first acknowledged him as the Son of the
Living God; she was unable to support herself, and fell down on the
door-stone, upon which the impression of her feet and hands remains to the
present day. I have seen the stones, which are preserved somewhere, but I
cannot at this moment remember where. The door was not again shut, for the
crowd was dispersing, and when the Blessed Virgin came to herself, she
begged to be taken to some place as near as possible to her Divine Son.
John, therefore, led her and the holy women to the front of the prison where
Jesus was confined. Mary was with Jesus in spirit, and Jesus was with her;
but this loving Mother wished to hear with her own ears the voice of her
Divine Son. She listened and heard not only his moans, but also the abusive
language of those around him. It was impossible for the holy women to remain
in the court any longer without attracting attention. The grief of Magdalen
was so violent that she was unable to conceal it; and although the Blessed
Virgin, by a special grace from Almighty God, maintained a calm and
dignified exterior in the midst of her sufferings, yet even she was
recognised, and overheard harsh words, such as these:˜Is not that the
Mother of the Galilæan? Her Son will most certainly be executed, but not
before the festival, unless, indeed, he is the greatest of criminals.™

The Blessed Virgin left the court, and went up to the fireplace in the
vestibule, where a certain number of persons were still standing. When she
reached the spot where Jesus had said that he was the Son of God, and the
wicked Jews cried out,˜He is guilty of death,™ she again fainted, and John
and the holy women carried her away, in appearance more like a corpse than a
living person. The bystanders said not a word; they seemed struck with
astonishment, and silence, such as might have been produced in hell by the
passage of a celestial being, reigned in that vestibule.

The holy women again passed the place where the cross was being prepared;
the workmen appeared to find as much difficulty in completing it as the
judges had found in pronouncing sentence, and were obliged to fetch fresh
wood every moment, for some bits would not fit, and others split; this
continued until the different species of wood were placed in the cross
according to the intentions of Divine Providence. I saw angels who obliged
these men to recommence their work, and who would not let them rest, until
all was accomplished in a proper manner; but my remembrance of this vision
is indistinct.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XII.

Jesus confined in the subterranean Prison.

THE Jews, having quite exhausted their barbarity, shut Jesus up in a little
vaulted prison, the remains of which subsist to this day. Two of the archers
alone remained with him, and they were soon replaced by two others. He was
still clothed in the old dirty mantle, and covered with the spittle and
other filth which they had thrown over him; for they had not allowed him to
put on his own clothes again, but kept his hands tightly bound together.

When our Lord entered this prison, he prayed most fervently that his
Heavenly Father would accept all that he had already suffered, and all that
he was about to suffer, as an expiatory sacrifice, not only for his
executioners, but likewise for all who in future ages might have to suffer
torments such as he was about to endure, and be tempted to impatience or
anger.

The enemies of our Lord did not allow him a moment™s respite, even in this
dreary prison, but tied him to a pillar which stood in the centre, and
would. not allow him to lean upon it, although he was so exhausted from ill
treatment, the weight of his chains, and his numerous falls, that he could
scarcely support himself on his swollen and torn feet. Never for a moment
did they cease insulting him; and when the first set were tired out, others
replaced them.

It is quite impossible to describe all that the Holy of Holies suffered from
these heartless beings; for the sight affected me so excessively that I
became really ill, and I felt as if I could not survive it. We ought,
indeed, to be ashamed of that weakness and susceptibility which renders us
unable to listen composedly to the descriptions, or speak without
repugnance, of those sufferings which our Lord endured so calmly and
patiently for our salvation. The horror we feel is as great as that of a
murderer who is forced to place his hands upon the wounds he himself has
inflicted on his victim. Jesus endured all without opening his mouth; and it
was man, sinful man, who perpetrated all these outrages against one who was
at once their Brother, their Redeemer, and their God. I, too, am a great
sinner, and my sins caused these sufferings. At the day of judgment, when
the most hidden things will be manifested, we shall see the share we have
had in the torments endured by the Son of God; we shall see how far we have
caused them by the sins we so frequently commit, and which are, in fact, a
species of consent which we give to, and a participation in, the tortures
which were inflicted on Jesus by his cruel enemies. If, alas! we reflected
seriously on this, we should repeat with much greater fervour the words
which we find so often in prayer-books:˜Lord, grant that I may die, rather
than ever wilfully offend thee again by sin.™

Jesus continued to pray for his enemies, and they being at last tired out
left him in peace for a short time, when he leaned against the pillar to
rest, and a bright light shone around him. The day was beginning to
dawn,the day of his Passion, of our Redemption,and a faint ray penetrating
the narrow vent-hole of the prison, fell upon the holy and immaculate Lamb,
who had taken upon himself the sins of the world. Jesus turned towards the
ray of light, raised his fettered hands, and, in the most touching manner,
returned thanks to his Heavenly Father for the dawn of that day, which had
been so long desired by the prophets, and for which he himself had so
ardently sighed from the moment of his birth on earth, and concerning which
he had said to his disciples,˜I have a baptism wherewith I am to be
baptised, and how am I straitened until it be accomplished? I prayed with
him; but I cannot give the words of his prayer, for I was so completely
overcome, and touched to hear him return thanks to his Father for the
terrible sufferings which he had already endured for me, and for the still
greater which he was about to endure. I could only repeat over and over with
the greatest fervour,˜Lord, I beseech thee, give me these sufferings: they
belong to me: I have deserved them in punishment for my sins.™ I was quite
overwhelmed with feelings of love and compassion when I looked upon him thus
welcoming the first dawn of the great day of his Sacrifice, and that ray of
light which penetrated into his prison might, indeed, be compared to the
visit of a judge who wishes to be reconciled to a criminal before the
sentence of death which he has pronounced upon him is executed.

The archers, who were dozing, woke up for a moment, and looked at him with
surprise: they said nothing, but appeared to be somewhat astonished and
frightened. Our Divine Lord was confined in this prison during an hour, or
thereabouts.

Whilst Jesus was in this dungeon, Judas, who had been wandering up and down
the valley of Hinnom like a madman, directed his steps towards the house of
Caiphas, with the thirty pieces of silver, the reward of his treachery,
still hanging to his waist. All was silent around, and he addressed himself
to some of the sentinels, without letting them know who he was, and asked
what was going to be done to the Galilæan.˜He has been condemned to death,
and he will certainly be crucified,™ was the reply. Judas walked to and fro,
and listened to the different conversations which were held concerning
Jesus. Some spoke of the cruel treatment he had received, others of his
astonishing patience, while others, again, discoursed concerning the solemn
trial which was to take place in the morning before the great Council.
Whilst the traitor was listening eagerly to the different opinions given,
day dawned; the members of the tribunal commenced their preparations, and
Judas slunk behind the building that he might not be seen, for like Cain he
sought to hide himself from human eyes, and despair was beginning to take
possession of his soul. The place in which he took refuge happened to be the
very spot where the workmen had been preparing the wood for making the cross
of our Lord; all was in readiness, and the men were asleep by its side.
Judas was filled with horror at the sight: he shuddered and fled when he
beheld the instrument of that cruel death to which for a paltry sum of money
he had delivered up his Lord and Master; he ran to and fro in perfect
agonies of remorse, and finally hid himself in an adjoining cave, where he
determined to await the trial which was to take place in the morning.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIII.

The Morning Trial.

CAIPHAS, Annas, the ancients, and the scribes assembled again in the morning
in the great hall of the tribunal, to have a legal trial, as meetings at
night were not lawful, and could only be looked upon in the light of
preparatory audiences. The majority of the members had slept in the house of
Caiphas, where beds had been prepared for them, but some, and among them
Nicodemus and Joseph of Arimathea, had gone home, and returned at the dawn
of day. The meeting was crowded, and the members commenced their operations
in the most hurried manner possible. They wished to condemn Jesus to death
at once, but Nicodemus, Joseph, and some others opposed their wishes and
demanded that the decision should be deferred until after the festival, for
fear of causing an insurrection among the people, maintaining likewise that
no criminal could be justly condemned upon charges which were not proved,
and that in the case now before them all the witnesses contradicted one
another. The High Priests and their adherents became very angry, and told
Joseph and Nicodemus, in plain terms, that they were not surprised at their
expressing displeasure at what had been done, because they were themselves
partisans of the Galilæan and his doctrines, and were fearful of being
convicted. The High Priest even went so far as to endeavour to exclude from
the Council all those members who were in the slightest degree favourable to
Jesus. These members protested that they washed their hands of all the
future proceedings of the Council, and leaving the room went to the Temple,
and from this day never again took their seats in the Council. Caiphas then
ordered the guards to bring Jesus once more into his presence, and to
prepare everything for taking him to Pilate™s court directly he should have
pronounced sentence. The emissaries of the Council hurried off to the
prison, and with their usual brutality untied the hands of Jesus, dragged
off the old mantle which they had thrown over his shoulders, made him plat
on his own soiled garment, and having fastened ropes round his waist,
dragged him out of the prison. The appearance of Jesus, when he passed
through the midst of the crowd who were already assembled in the front of
the house, was that of a victim led to be sacrificed; his countenance was
totally changed and disfigured from ill-usage, and his garments stained and
torn; but the sight of his sufferings, far from exciting a feeling of
compassion in the hard hearted Jews, simply filled them with disgust, and
increased their rage. Pity was, indeed, a feeling unknown in their cruel
breasts.

Caiphas, who did not make the slightest effort to conceal his hatred,
addressed oar Lord haughtily in these words:˜If thou be Christ, tell us
plainly.™ Then Jesus raised his head, and answered with great dignity and
calmness,˜If I shall tell you, you will not believe me; and if I shall also
ask you, you will not answer me, nor let me go. But hereafter the Son of Man
shall be sitting on the night hand of the power of God.™ The High Priests
looked at one another, and said to Jesus, with a disdainful laugh,˜Art
thou, then, the Son of God?™ And Jesus answered, with the voice of eternal
truth,˜You say that I am.™ At these words they all exclaimed,˜What need we
any further testimony? For we ourselves have heard it from his own mouth.™

They all arose instantly and vied with each other as to who should heap the
most abusive epithets upon Jesus, whom they termed a low-born miscreant, who
aspired to being their Messiah, and pretended to be entitled to sit at the
right hand of God. They ordered the archers to tie his hands again, and to
fasten a chain round his neck (this was usually done to criminals condemned
to death), and they then prepared to conduct him to Pilate™s hall, where a
messenger had already been dispatched to beg him to have all in readiness
for trying a criminal, as it was necessary to make no delay on account of
the festival day.

The Jewish Priests murmured among themselves at being obliged to apply to
the Roman governor for the confirmation of their sentence, but it was
necessary, as they had not the right of condemning criminals excepting for
things which concerned religion and the Temple alone, and they could not
pass a sentence of death. They wished to prove that Jesus was an enemy to
the emperor, and this accusation concerned those departments which were
under Pilate™s jurisdiction. The soldiers were all standing in front of the
house, surrounded by a large body of the enemies of Jesus, and of common
persons attracted by curiosity. The High Priests and a part of the Council
walked at the head of the procession, and Jesus, led by archers, and guarded
by soldiers, followed, while the mob brought up the rear. They were obliged
to descend Mount Sion, and cross a part of the lower town to reach Pilate™s
palace, and many priests who had attended the Council went to the Temple
directly afterwards, as it was necessary to prepare for the festival.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XIV.

The Despair of Judas.

WHILST the Jews were conducting Jesus to Pilate, the traitor Judas walked
about listening to the conversation of the crowd who followed, and his ears
were struck by words such as these:˜They are taking him before Pilate; the
High Priests have condemned the Galilæan to death; he will be crucified;
they will accomplish his death; he has been already dreadfully ill-treated;
his patience is wonderful; he answers not; his only words are that he is the
Messiah, and that he will be seated at the right hand of God; they will
crucify him on account of those words; had he not said them they could not
have condemned him to death. The miscreant who sold him was one of his
disciples, and had a short time before eaten the Paschal lamb with him; not
for worlds would I have had to do with such an act; however guilty the
Galilæan may be, he has not at all events sold his friend for money; such an
infamous character as this disciple is infinitely more deserving of
death.™ Then, but too late, anguish, despair, and remorse took possession of
the mind of Judas. Satan instantly prompted him to fly. He fled as if a
thousand furies were at his heel, and the bag which was hanging at his side
struck him as he ran, and propelled him as a spur from hell; but he took it
into his hand to prevent its blows. He fled as fast as possible, but where
did he fly? Not towards the crowd, that he might cast himself at the feet of
Jesus, his merciful Saviour, implore his pardon, and˜beg to die with
him,not to confess his fault with true repentance before God, but to
endeavour to unburden himself before the world of his crime, and of the
price of his treachery. He ran like one beside himself into the Temple,
where several members of the Council had gathered together after the
judgment of Jesus. They looked at one another with astonishment; and then
turned their haughty countenances, on which a smile of irony was visible,
upon Judas. He with a frantic gesture tore the thirty pieces of silver from
his side, and holding them forth with his right hand, exclaimed in accents
of the most deep despair,˜Take back your silverthat silver with which you
bribed me to betray this just man; take back your silver; release Jesus; our
compact is at an end; I have sinned grievously, for I have betrayed innocent
blood.™ The priests answered him in the most contemptuous manner, and, as if
fearful of contaminating themselves by the contact of the reward of the
traitor, would not touch the silver he tended, but replied,˜What have we to
do with thy sin? If thou thinkest to have sold innocent blood, it is thine
own affair; we know what we have paid for, and we have judged him worthy of
death. Thou hast thy money, say no more.™ They addressed these words to him
in the abrupt tone in which men usually speak when anxious to get rid of a
troublesome person, and instantly arose and walked away. These words tilled
Judas with such rage and despair that he became almost frantic: his hair
stood on end on his head; he rent in two the bag which contained the thirty
pieces of silver, cast them down in the Temple, and fled to the outskirts of
the town.

I again beheld him rushing to and fro like a madman in the valley of Hinnom:
Satan was by his side in a hideous form, whispering in his ear, to endeavour
to drive him to despair, all the curses which the prophets had hurled upon
this valley, where the Jews formerly sacrificed their children to idols.

It appeared as if all these maledictions were directed against him, as in
these words, for instance:˜They shall go forth, and behold the carcases of
those who have sinned against me, whose worm dieth not, and whose fire shall
never be extinguished.™ Then the devil murmured in his ears,˜Cain, where is
thy brother Abel? What hast thou done?his blood cries to me for vengeance:
thou art cursed upon earth, a wanderer for ever.™ When he reached the
torrent of Cedron, and saw Mount Olivet, he shuddered, turned away, and
again the words vibrated in his ear,˜Friend, whereto art thou come Judas,
dost thou betray the Son of Man with a kiss?™ Horror filled his soul, his
head began to wander, and the arch fiend again whispered,˜It was here that
David crossed the Cedron when he fled from Absalom. Absalom put an end to
his life by hanging himself. It was of thee that David spoke when he said:
œAnd they repaid me evil for good; hatred for my love. May the devil stand
at his right hand; when he is judged, may he go out condemned. May his days
be few, and his bishopric let another take. May the iniquity of his father
be remembered in the sight of the Lord; and let not the sin of his mother be
blotted out, because he remembered not to show mercy, but persecuted the
poor man and the beggar and the broken in heart, to put him to death. And he
loved cursing, and it shall come unto him. And he put on cursing like a
garment, and it went in like water into his entrails, and like oil into his
bones. May it be unto him like, a garment which covereth him; and like a
girdle, with which he is girded continually.�™ Overcome by these terrible
thoughts Judas rushed on, and reached the foot of the mountain. It was a
dreary, desolate spot filled with rubbish and putrid remains; discordant
sounds from the city reverberated in his ears, and Satan continually
repeated,˜They are now about to put him to death; thou hast sold him.
Knowest thou not the words of the law,œHe who sells a soul among his
brethren, and receives the price of it, let him die the death�? Put an end
to thy misery, wretched one; put an end to thy misery.™ Overcome by despair
Judas tore off his girdle, and hung himself on a tree which grow in a
crevice of the rock, and after death his body burst asunder, and his bowels
were scattered around.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XV.

Jesus is taken before Pilate.

THE malicious enemies of our Saviour led him through the most public part of
the town to take him before Pilate. The procession wended its way slowly
down the north side of the mountain of Sion, then passed through that
section on the eastern side of the Temple, called Acre, towards the palace
and tribunal of Pilate, which were seated on the north-west side of the
Temple, facing a large square. Caiphas, Annas, and many others of the Chief
Council, walked first in festival attire; they were followed by a multitude
of scribes and many other Jews, among whom were the false witnesses, and the
wicked Pharisees who had taken the most prominent part in accusing Jesus.
Our Lord followed at a short distance; he was surrounded by a band of
soldiers, and led by the archers. The multitude thronged on all sides and
followed the procession, thundering forth the most fearful oaths and
imprecations, while groups of persons were hurrying to and fro, pushing and
jostling one another. Jesus was stripped of all save his under garment,
which was stained and soiled by the filth which had been flung upon it; a
long chain was hanging round his neck. which struck his knees as he walked;
his hands were pinioned as on the previous day, and the archers dragged him
by the ropes which were fastened round his waist. He tottered rather than
walked, and was almost unrecognisable from the effects of his sufferings
during the night;he was colourless, haggard, his face swollen and even
bleeding, and his merciless persecutors continued to torment him each moment
more and more. They had gathered together a large body of the dregs of the
people, in order to make his present disgraceful entrance into the city a
parody on his triumphal entrance on Palm Sunday. They mocked, and with
derisive gestures called him king, and tossed in his path stones, bits of
wood, and filthy rags; they made game of, and by a thousand taunting
speeches mocked him, during this pretended triumphal entry.

In the corner of a building, not far from the house of Caiphas, the
afflicted Mother of Jesus, with John and Magdalen, stood watching for him.
Her soul was ever united to his; but propelled by her love, she left no
means untried which could enable her really to approach him. She remained at
the Cenacle for some time after her midnight visit to the tribunal of
Caiphas, powerless and speechless from grief; but when Jesus was dragged
forth from his prison, to be again brought before his judges, she arose,
cast her veil and cloak about her, and said to Magdalen and John:˜Let us
follow my Son to Pilate™s court; I must again look upon him.™ They went to a
place through which the procession must pass, and waited for it. The Mother
of Jesus knew that her Son was suffering dreadfully, but never could she
have conceived the deplorable, the heartrending condition to which he was
reduced by the brutality of his enemies. Her imagination had depicted him to
her as suffering fearfully, but yet supported and illuminated by sanctity,
love, and patience. Now, however, the sad reality burst upon her. First in
the procession appeared the priests, those most bitter enemies of her Divine
Son. They were decked in flowing robes; but ah, terrible to say, instead of
appearing resplendent in their character of priests of the Most High, they
were transformed into priests of Satan, for no one could look upon their
wicked countenances without beholding there, portrayed in vivid colours, the
evil passions with which their souls were filleddeceit, infernal cunning,
and a raging anxiety to carry out that most tremendous of crimes, the death
of their Lord and Saviour, the only Son of God. Next followed the false
witnesses, his perfidious accusers, surrounded by the vociferating populace;
and last of allhimselfher SonJesus, the Son of God, the Son of Man,
loaded with chains, scarcely able to support himself, but pitilessly dragged
on by his infernal enemies, receiving blows from some, buffets from others,
and from the whole assembled rabble curses, abuse, and the most scurrilous
language. He would have been perfectly unrecognisable even to her maternal
eyes, stripped as he was of all save a torn remnant of his garment, had she
not instantly marked the contrast between his behaviour and that of his vile
tormentors. He alone in the midst of persecution and suffering looked calm
and resigned, and far from returning blow for blow, never raised his hands
but in acts of supplication to his Eternal Father for the pardon of his
enemies. As he approached, she was unable to restrain herself any longer,
but exclaimed in thrilling accents:˜Alas! is that my Son? Ah, yes! I see
that it is my beloved Son. O, Jesus, my Jesus!™ When the procession was
almost opposite, Jesus looked upon her with an expression of the greatest
love and compassion; this look was too much for the heartbroken mother: she
became for the moment totally unconscious, and John and Magdalen endeavoured
to carry her home, but she quickly roused herself, and accompanied the
beloved disciple to Pilate™s palace.

The inhabitants of the town of Ophel were all gathered together in an open
space to meet Jesus, but far from administering comfort, they added a fresh
ingredient to his cup of sorrow; they inflicted upon him that sharp pang
which must ever be felt by those who see their friends abandon them in the
hour of adversity. Jesus had done much for the inhabitants of Ophel, but no
sooner >did they see him reduced to such a state of misery and
degradation, than their faith was shaken; they could no longer believe him
to be a king, a prophet, the Messiah, and the Son of God. The Pharisees
jeered and made game of them, on account of the admiration they had formerly
expressed for Jesus.˜Look at your king now,™ they exclaimed;˜do homage to
him; have you no congratulations to offer him now that he is about to be
crowned, and seated on his throne? All his boasted miracles are at an end;
the High Priest has put an end to his tricks and witchcraft.™

Notwithstanding the remembrance which these poor people had of the miracles
and wonderful cures which had been performed under their very eyes by Jesus;
notwithstanding the great benefits he had bestowed upon them their faith was
shaken by beholding him thus derided and pointed out as an object of
contempt by the High Priest and the members of the Sanhedrim, who were
regarded in Jerusalem with the greatest veneration. Some went away doubting,
while others remained and endeavoured to join the rabble, but they wore
prevented by the guards, who had been sent by the Pharisees, to prevent
riots and confusion.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XVI.

Description of Pilate™s Palace and the adjacent Buildings.

THE palace of the Roman Governor, Pilate, was built on the north-west side
of the mountain on which the Temple stood, and to reach it persons were
obliged to ascend a flight of marble steps. It overlooked a large square
surrounded by a colonnade, under which the merchants sat to sell their
various commodities. A parapet, and an entrance at the north, south, east,
and west sides alone broke the uniformity of this part of the market-place,
which was called the forum, and built on higher ground than the adjacent
streets, which sloped down from it. The palace of Pilate was not quite
close, but separated by a large court, the entrance to which at the eastern
side was through a high arch facing a street leading to the door called the
˜Probatica,™ on the road to the Mount of Olives. The southern entrance was
through another arch, which leads to Sion, in the neighbourhood of the
fortress of Acre. From the top of the marble steps of Pilate™s palace, a
person could see across the court as far as the forum, at the entrance of
which a few columns and stone seats were placed. It was at these seats that
the Jewish priests stopped, in order not to defile themselves by entering
the tribunal of Pilate, a line traced on the pavement of the court
indicating the precise boundary beyond which they could not pass without
incurring defilement. There was a large parapet near the western entrance,
supported by the sides of Pilate™s Prætorium, which formed a species of
porch between it and the square. That part of Pilate™s palace which he made
use of when acting in the capacity of judge, was called the Prætorium. A
number of columns surrounded the parapet of which we have just spoken, and
in the centre was an uncovered portion, containing an underground part,
where the two thieves condemned to be crucified with our Lord were confined,
and this part was filled with Roman soldiers. The pillar upon which our Lord
was scourged was placed on the forum itself, not far from this parapet and
the colonnade. There were many other columns in this place; those nearest to
the palace were made use of for the infliction of various corporal
punishments, and the others served as posts to which were fastened the
beasts brought for sale. Upon the forum itself, opposite this building, was
a platform filled with seats made of stone; and from this platform, which
was called Gabbatha, Pilate was accustomed to pronounce sentence on great
criminals. The marble staircase ascended by per sons going to the governors
palace led likewise to an uncovered terrace, and it was from this terrace
that Pilate gave audience to the priests and Pharisees, when they brought
forward their accusations against Jesus. They all stood before him in the
forum, and refused to advance further than the stone seats before mentioned.
A person speaking in a loud tone of voice from the terrace could be easily
heard by those in the forum.

Behind Pilate™s palace there were many other terraces, and likewise gardens,
and a country house. The gardens were between the palace of the governor and
the dwelling of his wife, Claudia Procles. A large moat separated these
buildings from the mountain on which the Temple stood, and on this side
might be seen the houses inhabited by those who served in the Temple. The
palace of Herod the elder was placed on the eastern side of Pilate™s palace;
and it was in its inner court that numbers of the Innocents were massacred.
At present the appearance of these two buildings is a little altered, as
their entrances are changed. Four of the principal streets commenced at this
part of the town, and ran in a southerly direction, three leading to the
forum and Pilate™s palace, and the fourth to the gate through which persons
passed on their way to Bethsur. The beautiful house which belonged to
Lazarus, and likewise that of Martha, were in a prominent part of this
street.

One of these streets was very near to the Temple, and began at the gate
which was called Probatica. The pool of Probatica was close to this gate on
the right-hand side, and in this pool the sheep were washed for the first
time, before being taken to the Temple; while the second and more solemn
washing took place in the pool of Bethsaida, which is near the south
entrance to the Temple. The second of the above-mentioned streets contained
a house belonging to St. Anne, the Mother of the Blessed Virgin, which she
usually inhabited when she came up to Jerusalem with her family to offer
sacrifice in the Temple. I believe it was in this house that the espousals
of St. Joseph and the Blessed Virgin were celebrated.

The forum, as I have already explained, was built on higher ground than the
neighbouring streets, and the aqueducts which ran through these streets
flowed into the Probatica pool. On Mount Sion, directly opposite to the old
castle of King David, stood a building very similar to the forum, while to
the south-east might be seen the Cenacle, and a little towards the north the
tribunals of Annas and Caiphas. King David™s castle was a deserted fortress,
filled with courts, empty rooms, and stables, generally let to travellers.
It had long been in this state of ruin, certainly before the time of our
Lord™s nativity. I saw the Magi with their numerous retinue enter it before
going into Jerusalem.

When in meditation I behold the ruins of old castles and temples, see their
neglected and forlorn state, and reflect on the uses to which they are now
put, so different from the intentions of those who raised them, my mind
always reverts to the events of our own days, when so many of the beautiful
edifices erected by our pious and zealous ancestors are either destroyed,
defaced, or used for worldly, if not wicked purposes. The little church of
our convent, in which our Lord deigned to dwell, notwithstanding our
unworthiness, and which was to me a paradise upon earth, is now without
either roof or windows, and all the monuments are effaced or carried away.
Our beloved convent, too, what will be done with it in a short time I that
convent, where I was more happy in my little cell with my broken chair, than
a king could be on his throne, for from its window I beheld that part of the
church which contained the Blessed Sacrament. In a few years, perhaps, no
one will know that it ever existed,no one will know that it once contained
hundreds of souls consecrated to God, who spent their days in imploring his
mercy upon sinners. But God will know all, he never forgets,the past and
the future are equally present to him. He it is who reveals to me events
which took place so long ago, and on the day of judgment, when all must be
accounted for, and every debt paid, even to the farthing, he will remember
both the good and the evil deeds performed in places long since forgotten.
With God there is no exception of persons or places, his eyes see all, even
the Vineyard of Naboth. It is a tradition among us that our convent was
originally founded by two poor nuns, whose worldly possessions consist ed in
a jar of oil and a sack of beans. On the last day God will reward them for
the manner in which they put out this small talent to interest, and for the
large harvest which they reaped and presented to him. It is often said that
poor souls remain in purgatory in punishment for what appears to us so small
a crime as not having made restitution of a few coppers of which they had
unlawful possession. May God therefore have mercy upon those who have seized
the property of the poor, or of the Church.
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CHAPTER XVII.

Jesus before Pilate.

IT was about eight in the morning, according to our method of counting time,
when the procession reached the palace of Pilate. Annas, Caiphas, and the
chiefs of the Sanhedrim stopped at a part between the forum and the entrance
to the Prætorium, where some stone seats were placed for them. The brutal
guards dragged Jesus to the foot of the fight of stairs which led to the
judgment-seat of Pilate. Pilate was reposing in a comfortable chair, on a
terrace which overlooked the forum, and a small three-legged table stood by
his side, on which was placed the insignia of his office, and a few other
things. He was surrounded by officers and soldiers dressed with the
magnificence usual in the Roman army. The Jews and the priests did not enter
the Prætorium, for fear of defiling themselves, but remained outside.

When Pilate saw the tumultuous procession enter, and perceived how
shamefully the cruel Jews had treated their prisoner, he arose, and
addressed them in a tone as contemptuous as could have been assumed by a
victorious general towards the vanquished chief of some insignificant
village:˜What are you come about so early? Why have you ill-treated this
prisoner so shamefully? Is it not possible to refrain from thus tearing to
pieces and beginning to execute your criminals even before they are judged?
They made no answer, but shouted out to the guards,˜Bring him onbring him
to be judged!™ and then, turning to Pilate, they said,˜Listen to our
accusations against this malefactor; for we cannot enter the tribunal lest
we defile ourselves! Scarcely had they finished these words, when a voice
was heard to issue from the midst of the dense multitude; it proceeded from
a venerable-looking old man, of imposing stature, who exclaimed,˜You are
right in not entering the Prætorium, for it has been sanctified by the blood
of Innocents; there is but one Person who has a right to enter, and who
alone can enter, because he alone is pure as the Innocents who were
massacred there.™ The person who uttered these words in a loud voice, and
then disappeared among the crowd, was a rich man of the name of Zadoc,
first-cousin to Obed, the husband of Veronica; two of his children were
among the Innocents whom Herod had caused to be butchered at the birth of
our Saviour. Since that dreadful moment he had given up the world, and,
together with his wife, followed the rules of the Essenians. He had once
seen our Saviour at the house of Lazarus, and there heard him discourse, and
the sight of the barbarous manner in which he was dragged before Pilate
recalled to his mind all he himself had suffered when his babes were so
cruelly murdered before his eyes, and he determined to give this public
testimony of his belief in the innocence of Jesus. The persecutors of our
Lord were far too provoked at the haughty manner which Pilate assumed
towards them, and at the humble position they were obliged to occupy, to
take any notice of the words of a stranger.

The brutal guards dragged our Lord up the marble staircase, and led him to
the end of the terrace, from whence Pilate was conferring with the Jewish
priests. The Roman governor had often heard of Jesus, although he had never
seen him, and now he was perfectly astonished at the calm dignity of
deportment of a man brought before him in so pitiable a condition. The
inhuman behaviour of the priests and ancients both exasperated him and
increased his contempt for them, and he informed them pretty quickly that he
had not the slightest intention of condemning Jesus without satisfactory
proofs of the truth of their accusations.˜What accusation do you bring
against this man?™ said he, addressing the priests in the most scornful tone
possible.˜If he were not a malefactor we would not have delivered him up to
thee,™ replied the priests sullenly.˜Take him,™ said Pilate,˜and judge you
him according to your law.™˜Thou knowest well,™ replied they,˜that it is
not lawful for us to condemn any man to death.™ The enemies of Jesus were
furiousthey wished to have the trial finished off, and their victim
executed as quickly as possible, that they might be ready at the
festival-day to sacrifice the Paschal lamb, not knowing, miserable wretches
as they were, that he whom they had dragged before the tribunal of an
idolatrous judge (into whose house they would not enter, for fear of
defiling themselves before partaking of the figurative victim), that he, and
he alone, was the true Paschal Lamb, of which the other was only the shadow.

Pilate, however, at last ordered them to produce their accusations. These
accusations were three in number, and they brought forward ten witnesses to
attest the truth of each. Their great aim was to make Pilate believe that
Jesus was the leader of a conspiracy against the emperor, in order that he
might condemn him to death as a rebel. They themselves were powerless in
such matters, being allowed to judge none but religious offences. Their
first endeavour was to convict him of seducing the people, exciting them to
rebellion, and of being an enemy to public peace and tranquillity. To prove
these charges they brought forward some false witnesses, and declared
likewise that he violated the Sabbath, and even profaned it by curing the
sick upon that day. At this accusation Pilate interrupted them, and said in
a jeering tone,˜It is very evident you were none of you ill yourselveshad
you been so you would not have complained of being cured on the
Sabbath-day.™˜He seduces the people, and inculcates the most disgusting
doctrines. He even says, that no person can attain eternal life unless they
eat his flesh and drink his blood.™ Pilate was quite provoked at the intense
hatred which their words and countenances expressed, and, turning from them
with a look of scorn, exclaimed,˜You most certainly must wish to follow his
doctrines and to attain eternal life, for you are thirsting for both his
body and blood.™

The Jews then brought forward the second accusation against Jesus, which was
that he forbad the people to pay tribute to the emperor. These words roused
the indignation of Pilate, as it was his place to see that all the taxes
were properly paid, and he exclaimed in an angry tone,˜That is a lie! I
must know more about it than you.™ This obliged the enemies of our Lord to
proceed to the third accusation, which they did in words such as these:
˜Although this man is of obscure birth, he is the chief of a large party.
When at their head, he denounces curses upon Jerusalem, and relates parables
of double meaning concerning a king who is preparing a wedding feast for his
son. The multitude whom he had gathered together on a mountain endeavoured
once to make him their king; but it was sooner than he intended: his plans
were not matured; therefore he fled and hid himself. Latterly he has come
forward much more: it was but the other day that he entered Jerusalem at the
head of a tumultuous assembly, who by his orders made the people rend the
air with acclamations ofœHosanna to the Son of David! Blessed be the empire
of our Father David, which is now beginning.� He obliges his partisans to
pay him regal honours, and tells them that he is the Christ, the Anointed of
the Lord, the Messiah, the king promised to the Jews, and he wishes to be
addressed by these fine titles.™ Ten witnesses gave testimony concerning
these things.

The last accusation-that of Jesus causing himself to be called kingmade
some impression upon Pilate; he became a little thoughtful, left the terrace
and, casting a scrutinising glance on Jesus, went into the adjoining
apartment, and ordered the guards to bring him alone into his presence.
Pilate was not only superstitious, but likewise extremely weak-minded and
susceptible. He had often, during the course of his pagan education, heard
mention made of sons of his gods who had dwelt for a time upon earth; he was
likewise fully aware that the Jewish prophets had long foretold that one
should appear in the midst of them who should be the Anointed of the Lord,
their Saviour, and Deliverer from slavery; and that many among the people
believed this firmly. He remembered likewise that kings from the east had
come to Herod, the predecessor of the present monarch of that name, to pay
homage to a newly-born king of the Jews, and that Herod had on this account
given orders for the massacre of the Innocents. He had often heard of the
traditions concerning the Messiah and the king of the Jews, and even
examined them with some curiosity; although of course, being a pagan,
without the slightest belief. Had he believed at all, he would probably have
agreed with the Herodians, and with those Jews who expected a powerful and
victorious king. With such impressions, the idea of the Jews accusing the
poor miserable individual whom they had brought into his presence of setting
himself up as the promised king and Messiah, of course appeared to him
absurd; but as the enemies of Jesus brought forward these charges in proof
of treason against the emperor, he thought it proper to interrogate him
privately concerning them.

˜Art thou the king of the Jews?™ said Pilate, looking at our Lord, and
unable to repress his astonishment at the divine expression of his
countenance.

Jesus made answer,˜Sayest thou this thing of thyself, or have others told
it thee of me?™

Pilate was offended that Jesus should think it possible for him to believe
such a thing, and answered,˜Am I a Jew? Thy own nation and the chief
priests have delivered thee up to me as deserving of death: what hast thou
done?™

Jesus answered majestically,˜My kingdom is not of this world. If my kingdom
were of this world, my servants would certainly strive that I should not be
delivered to the Jews; but now my kingdom is not from hence.™

Pilate was somewhat moved by these solemn words, and said to him in a more
serious tone,˜Art thou a king, then?™

Jesus answered,˜Thou sayest that I am a king. For this was I born, and for
this I came into the world, that I should give testimony to the truth. Every
one that is of the truth heareth my voice.™

Pilate looked at him, and rising from his seat said, The truth! what is
truth?™

They then exchanged a few more words, which I do not now remember, and
Pilate returned to the terrace. The answers and deportment of Jesus were far
beyond his comprehension; but he saw plainly that his assumption of royalty
would not clash with that of the emperor, for that it was to no worldly
kingdom that he laid claim; whereas the emperor cared for nothing beyond
this world. He therefore again addressed the chief priests from the terrace,
and said,˜I find no cause in him.™ The enemies of Jesus became furious, and
uttered a thousand different accusations against our Saviour. But he
remained silent, solely occupied in praying for his base enemies, and
replied not when Pilate addressed him in these words,˜Answerest thou
nothing? Behold in how many things they accuse thee!™ Pilate was filled with
astonishment, and said,˜I see plainly that all they allege is false.™ But
his accusers, whose anger continued to increase, cried out,˜You find no
cause in him?™ Is it no crime to incite the people to revolt in all parts of
the kingdom?to spread his false doctrines, not only here, but in Galilee
likewise?™

The mention of Galilee made Pilate pause: he reflected for a moment, and
then asked,˜Is this man a Galilæan, and a subject of Herod™s?™ They made
answer,˜He is; his parents lived at Nazareth, and his present dwelling is
in Capharnaum.™

˜Since that is the case,™ replied Pilate,˜take him before Herod; he is here
for the festival, and can judge him at once, as he is his subject.™ Jesus
was immediately led out of the tribunal, and Pilate dispatched an officer to
Herod, to inform him that Jesus of Nazareth, who was his subject, was about
to be brought to him to be judged. Pilate had two reasons for following this
line of conduct; in the first place he was delighted to escape having to
pass sentence himself, as he felt very uncomfortable about the whole affair;
and in the second place he was glad of an opportunity of pleasing Herod,
with whom he had had a disagreement, for he knew him to be very curious to
see Jesus.

The enemies of our Lord were enraged at being thus dismissed by Pilate in
the presence of the whole multitude, and gave vent to their anger by
ill-treating him even more than before. They pinioned him afresh, and then
ceased not overwhelming him with curses and blows as they led him hurriedly
through the crowd, towards the palace of Herod, which was situated at no
great distance from the forum. Some Roman soldiers had joined the
procession.

During the time of the trial Claudia Procles, the wife of Pilate, had sent
him frequent messages to intimate that she wished extremely to speak to him;
and when Jesus was sent to Herod, she placed herself on a balcony and
watched the cruel conduct of his enemies with mingled feelings of fear,
grief, and horror.
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CHAPTER XVIII.

The Origin of the Way of the Cross.

DURING the whole of the scene which we have just described, the Mother of
Jesus, with Magdalen and John, had stood in a recess in the forum: they were
overwhelmed with the most bitter sorrow, which was but increased by all they
heard and saw. When Jesus was taken before Herod, John led the Blessed
Virgin and Magdalen over the parts which had been sanctified by his
footsteps. They again looked at the house of Caiphas, that of Annas, Ophel,
Gethsemani, and the Garden of Olives; they stopped and contemplated each
Spot where he had fallen, or where he had suffered particularly; and they
wept silently at the thought of all he had undergone. The Blessed Virgin
knelt down frequently and kissed the ground where her Son had fallen, while
Magdalen wrung her hands in bitter grief, and John, although he could not
restrain his own tears, endeavoured. to console his companions, supported,
and led them on. Thus was the holy devotion of the˜Way of the Cross™ first
practised; thus were the Mysteries of the Passion of Jesus first honoured,
even before that Passion was accomplished, and the Blessed Virgin, that
model of spotless purity, was the first to show forth the deep veneration
felt by the Church for our dear Lord. How sweet and consoling to follow this
Immaculate Mother, passing to and fro, and bedewing the sacred spots with
her tears. But, ah! who can describe the sharp, sharp sword of grief which
then transfixed her tender soul? She who had once borne the Saviour of the
world in her chaste womb, and suckled him for so long,she who had truly
conceived him who was the Word of God, in God from all eternity, and truly
God,she beneath whose heart, full of grace, he had deigned to dwell nine
months, who had felt him living within her before he appeared. among men to
impart the blessing of salvation and teach them his heavenly doctrines; she
suffered with Jesus, sharing with him not only the sufferings of his bitter
Passion, but likewise that ardent desire of redeeming fallen man by an
ignominious death, which consumed him.

In this touching manner did the most pure and holy Virgin lay the foundation
of the devotion called the Way of the Cross; thus at each station, marked by
the sufferings of her Son, did she lay up in her heart the inexhaustible
merits of his Passion, and gather them up as precious stones or
sweet-scented flowers to be presented as a choice offering to the Eternal
Father in behalf of all true believers. The grief of Magdalen was so intense
as to make her almost like an insane person. The holy and boundless love she
felt for our Lord prompted her to cast herself at his feet, and there pour
forth the feeling of her heart (as she once poured the precious ointment on
his head as he sat at table); but when on the point of following this
impulse, a dark gulf appeared to intervene between herself and him. The
repentance she felt for her faults was immense, and not less intense was her
gratitude for their pardon; but when she longed to offer acts of love and
thanksgiving as precious incense at the feet of Jesus, she beheld him
betrayed, suffering, and about to die for the expiation of her offences
which he had taken upon himself, and this sight filled her with horror, and
almost rent her soul asunder with feelings of love, repentance, and
gratitude. The sight of the ingratitude of those for whom he was about to
die increased the bitterness of these feelings tenfold, and every step,
word, or movement demonstrated the agony of her soul. The heart of John was
filled with love, and he suffered intensely, but he uttered not a word. He
supported the Mother of his beloved Master in this her first pilgrimage
through the stations of the Way of the Cross, and assisted her in giving the
example of that devotion which has since been practised with so much fervour
by the members of the Christian Church.
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CHAPTER XIX.

Pilate and his Wife.

WHILST the Jews were leading Jesus to Herod, I saw Pilate go to his wife,
Claudia Procles. She hastened to meet him, and they went together into a
small garden-house which was on one of the terraces behind the palace.
Claudia appeared to be much excited, and under the influence of fear. She
was a tall, fine-looking woman, although extremely pale. Her hair was
plaited and slightly ornamented, but partly covered by a long, veil which
fell gracefully over her shoulders. She wore earrings, a necklace, and her
flowing dress was drawn together and held up by a species of clasp. She
conversed with Pilate for a long time, and entreated him by all that he held
sacred not to injure Jesus, that Prophet, that saint of saints; and she
related the extraordinary dreams or visions which she had had on the
previous night concerning him.

Whilst she was speaking I saw the greatest part of these visions: the
following were the most striking. In the first place, the principal events
in the life of our Lordthe annunciation, the nativity, the adoration of the
shepherds and that of the kings, the prophecy of Simeon and that. of Anna,
the flight into Egypt, the massacre of the Innocents, and our Lord™s
temptation in the wilderness. She had likewise been shown in her sleep the
most striking features of the public life of Jesus. He always appeared to
her environed with a resplendent light, but his malicious and cruel enemies
were under the most horrible and disgusting forms imaginable. She saw his
intense sufferings, his patience, and his inexhaustible love, likewise the
anguish of his Mother, and her perfect resignation. These visions filled the
wife of Pilate with the greatest anxiety and terror, particularly as they
were accompanied by symbols which made her comprehend their meaning, and her
tender feelings were barrowed by the sight of such dreadful scenes. She had
suffered from them during the whole of the night; they were sometimes
obscure, but more often clear and distinct; and when morning dawned and she
was roused by the noise of the tumultuous mob who were dragging Jesus to be
judged, she glanced at the procession and instantly saw that the unresisting
victim in the midst of the crowd, bound, suffering, and so inhumanely
treated as to be scarcely recognisable, was no other than that bright and
glorious being who had been so often brought before her eyes in the visions
of the past night. She was greatly affected by this sight, and immediately
sent for Pilate, and gave him an account of all that had happened to her.
She spoke with much vehemence and emotion; and although there was a great
deal in what she had seen which she could not understand, much less express,
yet she entreated and implored. her husband in the most touching terms to
grant her request.

Pilate was both astonished and troubled by the words of his wife. He
compared the narration with all he had previously heard concerning Jesus;
and reflected on the hatred of the Jews, the majestic silence of our
Saviour, and the mysterious answers he had given to all his questions. He
hesitated for some time, but was at last overcome by the entreaties of his
wife, and told her that he had already declared his conviction of the
innocence of Jesus, and that he would not condemn him, because he saw that
the accusations were mere fabrications of his enemies. He spoke of the words
of Jesus to himself, promised his wife that nothing should induce him to
condemn this just man, and even gave her a ring before they parted as a
pledge of his promise.

The character of Pilate was debauched and undecided, but his worst qualities
were an extreme pride and meanness which made him never hesitate in the
performance of an unjust action, provided it answered his ends. He was
excessively superstitious, and when in any difficulty had recourse to charms
and spells. He was much puzzled and alarmed about the trial of Jesus; and I
saw him running backwards and forwards, offering incense first to one god
and then to another, and imploring them to assist him; but Satan filled his
imagination with still greater confusion; he first instilled one false idea
and then another into his mind. He then had recourse to one of his favourite
superstitious practices, that of watching the sacred chickens eat, but in
vain,his mind remained enveloped in darkness, and he became more and more
undecided. He first thought that he would acquit our Saviour, whom he well
knew to be innocent, but then he feared incurring the wrath of his false
gods if he spared him, as he fancied he might be a species of demigod, and
obnoxious to them˜It is possible,™ said he inwardly,˜that this man may
really be that king of the Jews concerning whose coming there are so many
prophecies. It was a king of the Jews whom the Magi came from the East to
adore. Perhaps he is a secret enemy both of our gods and of the emperor; it
might be most imprudent in me to spare his life. Who knows whether his death
would not be a triumph to my gods?™ Then he remembered the wonderful dreams
described to him by his wife, who had never seen Jesus, and he again
changed, and decided that it would be safer not to condemn him. He tried to
persuade himself that he wished to pass a just sentence; but he deceived
himself, for when he asked himself,˜What is the truth?™ he did not wait for
the answer. His mind was filled with confusion, and he was quite at a loss
how to act, as his sole desire was to entail no risk upon himself.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XX.

Jesus before Herod.

THE palace of the Tetrarch Herod was built on the north side of the forum,
in the new town; not very far from that of Pilate. An escort of Roman
soldiers, mostly from that part of the country which is situated between
Switzerland and Italy, had joined the procession. The enemies of Jesus were
perfectly furious at the trouble they were compelled to take in going
backwards and forwards, and therefore vented their rage upon him. Pilate™s
messenger had preceded the procession, consequently Herod was expecting
them. He was seated on a pile of cushions, heaped together so as to form a
species of throne, in a spacious hall, and surrounded by courtiers and
warriors. The Chief Priests entered and placed themselves by his side,
leaving Jesus at the entrance. Herod was much elated and pleased at
Pilate™s having thus publicly acknowledged his right of judging the
Galilæans, and likewise rejoiced at seeing that Jesus who had never deigned
to appear before him reduced to such a state of humiliation and degradation.
His curiosity had been greatly excited by the high terms in which John the
Baptist had announced the coming of Jesus, and he had likewise heard much
about him from the Herodians, and through the many spies whom he had sent
into different parts: he was therefore delighted at this opportunity of
interrogating him in the presence of his courtiers and of the Jewish
priests, hoping to make a grand display of his own knowledge and talents.
Pilate having sent him word,˜that he could find no cause in the man,™ he
concluded that these words were intended as a hint that he (Pilate) wished
the accusers to be treated with contempt and mistrust. He, therefore,
addressed them in the most haughty distant manner possible, and thereby
increased their rage and anger indescribably.

They all began at once to vociferate their accusations, to which Herod
hardly listened, being intent solely on gratifying his curiosity by a close
examination of Jesus, whom he had so often wished to see. But when he beheld
him stripped of all clothing save the remnant of a mantle, scarcely able to
stand, and his countenance totally disfigured from the blows he had
received, and from the mud and missiles which the rabble had flung at his
head, the luxurious and effeminate prince turned away in disgust, uttered
the name of God, and said to the priests in a tone of mingled pity and
contempt,˜Take him hence, and bring him not back into my presence in such a
deplorable state.™ The guards took Jesus into the outer court, and procured
some water in a basin, with which they cleansed his soiled garments and
disfigured countenance; but they could not restrain their brutality even
while doing this, and paid no regard to the wounds with which he was
covered.

Herod meantime accosted the priests in much the same Strain as Pilate had
done.˜Your behaviour vastly resembles that of butchers,™ he said,˜and you
commence your immolations pretty early in the morning.™ The Chief Priests
produced their accusations at once. Herod, when Jesus was again brought into
his presence, pretended to feel some compassion, and offered him a glass of
wine to recruit his strength; but Jesus turned his head away and refused
this alleviation.

Herod then began to expatiate with great volubility on all he had heard
concerning our Lord. He asked a thousand questions, and exhorted him to work
a miracle in his presence; but Jesus answered not a word, and stood before
him with his eyes cast down, which conduct both irritated and disconcerted
Herod, although he endeavoured to conceal his anger, and continued his
interrogations. He at first expressed surprise, and made use of persuasive
words.˜Is it possible, Jesus of Nazareth,™ he exclaimed,˜that it is thou
thyself that appearest before me as a criminal? I have heard thy actions so
much spoken of. Thou art not perhaps aware that thou didst offend me
grievously by setting free the prisoners whom I had confined at Thirza, but
possibly thy intentions were good. The Roman governor has now sent thee to
me to be judged; what answer canst thou give to all these accusations? Thou
art silent? I have heard much concerning thy wisdom, and the religion thou
teachest, let me hear thee answer and confound thy enemies. Art thou the
king of the Jews? Art thou the Son of God? Who art thou? Thou art said to
have performed wonderful miracles; work one now in my presence. I have the
power to release thee. Is it true that thou hast restored sight to the
blind, raised up Lazarus from the dead, and fed two or three thousand
persons with a few loaves? Why dost thou not answer? I recommend thee to
work a miracle quickly before me; perhaps thou mayest rejoice afterwards at
having complied with my wishes.™

Jesus still kept silence, and Herod continued to question him with even more
volubility.

˜Who art thou?™ said he.˜From whence hast thou thy power? How is it that
thou dost no longer possess it? Art thou he whose birth was foretold in such
a wonderful manner? Kings from the East came to my father to see a
newly-born king of the Jews: is it true that thou wast that child? Didst
thou escape when so many children were massacred, and how was thy escape
managed? Why hast thou been for so many years unknown? Answer my questions?
Art thou a king? Thy appearance certainly is not regal. I have been told
that thou wast conducted to the Temple in triumph a short time ago. What was
the meaning of such an exhibition?speak out at once!Answer me!™

Herod continued to question Jesus in this rapid manner; but our Lord did not
vouchsafe a reply. I was shown (as indeed I already knew) that Jesus was
thus silent because Herod was in a state of excommunication, both on account
of his adulterous marriage with Herodias, and of his having given orders for
the execution of St. John the Baptist. Annas and Caiphas, seeing how
indignant Herod was at the silence of Jesus, immediately endeavoured to take
advantage of his feelings of wrath, and recommenced their accusations,
saying that he had called Herod himself a fox; that his great aim for many
years had been the overthrow of Herod™s family; that he was endeavouring to
establish a new religion, and had celebrated the Pasch on the previous day.
Although Herod was extremely enraged at the conduct of Jesus, he did not
lose sight of the political ends which he wished to forward. He was
determined not to condemn our Lord, both because he experienced a secret and
indefinable sensation of terror in his presence, and because he still felt
remorse at the thought of having put John the Baptist to death, besides
which he detested the High Priests for not having allowed him to take part
in the sacrifices on account of his adulterous connection with Herodias.

But his principal reason for determining not to condemn Jesus was, that he
wished to make some return to Pilate for his courtesy, and he thought the
best return would be the compliment of showing deference to his decision and
agreeing with him in opinion. But he spoke in the most contemptuous manner
to Jesus, and turning to the guards and servants who surrounded him, and who
were about two hundred in number, said:˜Take away this fool, and pay him
that homage which is his due; he is mad, rather than guilty of any crime.™

Our Lord was immediately taken into a large court, where every possible
insult and indignity was heaped upon him. This court was between the two
wings of the palace, and Herod stood a spectator on a platform for some
time. Annas and Caiphas wore by his side, endeavouring to persuade him to
condemn our Saviour. But their efforts were fruitless, and Herod answered in
a tone loud enough to be heard by the Roman soldiers:˜No, I should act
quite wrongly if I condemned him.™ His meaning was, that it would be wrong
to condemn as guilty one whom Pilate had pronounced innocent, although he
had been so courteous as to defer the final judgment to him.

When the High Priests and the other enemies of Jesus perceived that Herod
was determined not to give in to their wishes, they dispatched emissaries to
that division of the city called Acre, which was chiefly inhabited by
Pharisees, to let them know that they must assemble in the neighbourhood of
Pilate™s palace, gather together the rabble, and bribe them to make a
tumult, and demand the condemnation of our Lord. They likewise sent forth
secret agents to alarm the people by threats of the divine vengeance if they
did not insist on the execution of Jesus, whom they termed a sacrilegious
blasphemer. These agents were ordered likewise to alarm them by intimating
that if Jesus were not put to death, he would go over to the Romans, and
assist in the extermination of the Jewish nation, for that it was to this he
referred when he spoke of his future kingdom They endeavoured to spread a
report in other parts of the city, that Herod had condemned him, but still
that it was necessary for the people likewise to express their wishes, as
his partisans were to be feared; for that if he were released he would join
the Romans, make a disturbance on the festival day, and take the most
inhuman revenge. Some among them circulated contradictory and alarming
reports, in order to excite the people, and cause an insurrection; while
others distributed money among the soldiers to bribe them to ill-treat
Jesus, so as to cause his death, which they were most anxious should be
brought about as quickly as possible, lest Pilate should acquit him.

Whilst the Pharisees wore busying themselves in this manner, our Blessed
Saviour was suffering the greatest outrages from the brutal soldiers to whom
Herod had delivered him, that they might deride him as a fool. They dragged
him into the court, and one of their number having procured a large white
sack which had once been filled with cotton, they made a hole in its centre
with a sword, and then tossed it over the head of Jesus, accompanying each
action with bursts of the most contemptuous laughter. Another soldier
brought the remnant of an old scarlet cloak, and passed it round his neck,
while the rest bent their knee before himshoved himabused himspat upon
himstruck him on the cheek, because he had refused to answer their king,
mocked him by pretending to pay homagethrew mud upon himseized him by the
waist, pretending to make him dance; then, having thrown him down, dragged
him through a gutter which ran on the side of the court, thus causing his
sacred head to strike against the column and sides of the wall, and when at
last they raised him up, it was only in order to recommence their insults.
The soldiers and servants of Herod who were assembled in this court amounted
to upwards of two hundred, and all thought to pay court to their monarch by
torturing Jesus in some unheard-of way. Many were bribed by the enemies of
our Lord to strike him on the head with their sticks, and they took
advantage of the confusion and tumult to do so. Jesus looked upon them with
compassion; excess of pain drew from him occasional moans and groans, but
his enemies rejoiced in his sufferings, and mocked his moans, and not one
among the whole assembly showed the slightest degree of compassion. I saw
blood streaming from his head, and three times did the blows prostrate him,
but angels were weeping at his side, and they anointed his head with
heavenly balsam. It was revealed to me that had it not been for this
miraculous assistance he must have died from those wounds. The Philistines
at Gaza, who gave vent to their wrath by tormenting poor blind Samson, were
far less barbarous than these cruel executioners of our Lord.

The priests were, however, impatient to return to the Temple; therefore,
having made certain that their orders regarding Jesus would be obeyed, they
returned to Herod, and endeavoured to persuade him to condemn our Lord. But
he, being determined to do all in his power to please Pilate, refused to
accede to their wishes, and sent Jesus back again clothed in the fool™s
garment.
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CHAPTER XXI.

Jesus led back from the Court of Herod to that of Pilate.

THE enemies of Jesus were perfectly infuriated at being obliged to take
Jesus back, still uncondemned, to Pilate, who had so many times declared his
innocence. They led him round by a much longer road, in order in the first
place to let the persons of that part of the town see him in the state of
ignominy to which he was reduced, and in the second place to give their
emissaries more time to stir up the populace.

This road was extremely rough and uneven; and the soldiers, encouraged by
the Pharisees, scarcely refrained a moment from tormenting Jesus. The long
garment with which he was clothed impeded his steps, and caused him to fall
heavily more than once; and his cruel guards, as also many among the brutal
populace, instead of assisting him in his state of exhaustion, endeavoured
by blows and kicks to force him to rise.

To all these outrages Jesus offered not the smallest resistance; he prayed
constantly to his Father for grace and strength that he might not sink under
them, but accomplish the work of his Passion for our redemption.

It was about eight o™clock when the procession reached the palace of Pilate.
The crowd was dense, and the Pharisees might be seen walking to and fro,
endeavouring to incite and infuriate them still more. Pilate, who remembered
an insurrection which had taken place the year before at the Paschal time,
had assembled upwards of a thousand soldiers, whom he posted around the
Prætorium, the Forum, and his palace.

The Blessed Virgin, her elder sister Mary (the daughter of Heli), Mary (the
daughter of Cleophas), Magdalen, and about twenty of the holy women, were
standing in a room from whence they could see all which took place, and at
first John was with them.

The Pharisees led Jesus, still clothed in the fool™s garment, through the
midst of the insolent mob, and had done all in their power to gather
together the most vile and wicked of miscreants from among the dregs of the
people. A servant sent by Herod had already reached Pilate, with a message
to the effect that his master had fully appreciated his polite deference to
his opinion, but that be looked upon the far-famed Galilæan as no better
than a fool, that he had treated him as such, and now sent him back. Pilate
was quite satisfied at finding that Herod had come to the same conclusion as
himself, and therefore returned a polite message. From that hour they became
friends, having been enemies many years; in fact, ever since the falling-in
of the aqueduct. [11] Jesus was again led to the house of Pilate. The
archers dragged him up the stairs with their usual brutality; his feet
became entangled in his long robe, and he fell upon the white marble steps,
which were stained with blood from his sacred head. His enemies had again
taken their seats at the entrance of the forum; the mob laughed at his fall,
and the archers struck their innocent victim, instead of assisting him to
rise. Pilate was reclining on a species of easy-chair, with a little table
before him, and surrounded with officers and persons who held strips of
parchment covered with writing in their hands. He came forward and said to
the accusers of Jesus:˜You have presented unto me. this man, as one that
perverteth the people, and behold I, having examined him before you, find no
came in this man in those things wherein you accuse him. No, nor Herod
neither. For I sent you to him, and behold, nothing worthy of death is done
to him. I will chastise him, therefore, and release him.™

When the Pharisees heard these words, they became furious, and endeavoured
to the utmost of their power to persuade the people to revolt, distributing
money among them to effect this purpose. Pilate looked around with contempt,
and addressed them in scornful words.

It happened to be the precise time when, according to an ancient custom, the
people had the privilege of demanding the deliverance of one prisoner. The
Pharisees had dispatched emissaries to persuade the people to demand the
death, and not the life, of our Lord. Pilate hoped that they would ask for
Jesus, and determined to give them to choose between him and a criminal
called Barabbas, who had been convicted of a dreadful murder committed
during a sedition, as also of many other crimes, and was, moreover, detested
by the people.

There was considerable excitement among the crowd; a certain portion came
forward, and their orators, addressing Pilate in a loud voice, said:˜Grant
us the favour you have always granted on the festival day.™ Pilate made
answer:˜It is customary for me to deliver to you a criminal at the Paschal
time; whom will you that I release to you, Barabbas, or Jesus that is called
Christ?™

Although Pilate did not in his own mind feel at all certain that Jesus was
the King of the Jews, yet he called him so, partly because his Roman pride
made him take delight in humbling the Jews by calling such a
despicable-looking person their king; and partly because he felt a kind of
inward belief that Jesus might really be that miraculous king, that Messiah
who had been promised. He saw plainly that the priests were incited by envy
alone in their accusations against Jesus; this made him most anxious to
disappoint them; and the desire was increased by that glimmering of the
truth which partly enlightened his mind. There was some hesitation among the
crowd when Pilate asked this question, and a few voices answered,
˜Barabbas.™ A servant sent by Pilate™s wife asked for him at this moment; he
left the platform, and the messenger presented the pledge which he had given
her, saying at the same time:˜Claudia Procles begs you to remember your
promise this morning.™ The Pharisees and the priests walked anxiously and
hastily about among the crowd, threatening some and ordering others,
although, in fact, little was required to incite the already infuriated
multitude.

Mary, with Magdalen, John, and the holy women, stood in a corner of the
forum, trembling and weeping; for although the Mother of Jesus was fully
aware that the redemption of man could not be brought about by any other
means than the death of her Son, yet she was filled with the anguish of a
mother, and with a longing desire to save him from those tortures and from
that death which he was about to suffer. She prayed God not to allow such a
fearful crime to be perpetrated; she repeated the words of Jesus in the
Garden of Olives:˜If it is possible, let this chalice pass away.™ She still
felt a glimmering of hope, because there was a report current that Pilate
wished to acquit Jesus. Groups of persons, mostly inhabitants of Capharnaum,
where Jesus had taught, and among whom he had wrought so many miraculous
cures, were congregated in her vicinity; they pretended not to remember
either her or her weeping companions; they simply cast a glance now and
then, as if by chance, at their closely-veiled figures. Many thought, as did
her companions likewise, that these persons at least would reject Barabbas,
and beg for the life of their Saviour and Benefactor; but these hopes were,
alas, fallacious.

Pilate sent back the pledge to his wife, as an assurance of his intention to
keep his promise. He again came forward on the platform, and seated himself
at the little table. The Chief Priests took their seats likewise, and Pilate
once more demanded:˜Which of the two am I to deliver up to you?™ A general
cry resounded through the hall:˜Not this man, but Barabbas!™˜But what am I
to do with Jesus, who is called Christ?™ replied Pilate. All exclaimed in a
tumultuous manner:˜Let him be crucified! let him be crucified!™˜But what
evil has he done?™ asked Pilate for the third time.˜I find no cause in him.
I will scourge and then acquit him.™ But the cry,˜Crucify him! Crucify
him!™ burst from the crowd, and the sounds echoed like an infernal tempest;
the High Priests and the Pharisees vociferated and hurried backwards and
forwards as if insane. Pilate at last yielded; his weak pusillanimous
character could not withstand such violent demonstrations; he delivered up
Barabbas to the people, and condemned Jesus to be scourged.
_________________________________________________________________

[11] The cause of the quarrel between Pilate and Herod was, according to the
account of Sister Emmerich, simply this: Pilate had undertaken to build an
aqueduct on the south-east side of the mountain on which the Temple stood,
at the edge of the torrent into which the waters of the pool of Bethsaida
emptied themselves, and this aqueduct was to carry off the refuse of the
Temple. Herod, through the medium of one of his confidants, who was a member
of the Sanhedrim, agreed to furnish him with the necessary materials, as
also with twenty-eight architects, who were also Herodians. His aim was to
set the Jews still more against the Roman governor, by causing the
undertaking to fail. He accordingly came to a private understanding with the
architects, who agreed to construct the aqueduct in such a manner that it
would be certain to fall. When the work was almost finished, and a number of
bricklayers from Ophel were busily employed in removing the scaffolding, the
twenty-eight builders went on to the top of the Tower of Siloe to
contemplate the crash which they knew must take place. Not only did the
whole of the building crumble to pieces, fall, and kill ninety-three
workmen, but even the tower containing the twenty-eight architects came
down, and not one escaped death. This accident occurred a short time
previous to the 8th of January, two years after Jesus had commenced
preaching; it took place on Herod™s birthday, the same day that John the
Baptist was beheaded in the Castle of Marcherunt. No Roman officer attended
these festivities on account of the affair of the aqueduct, although Pilate
had, with hypocritical politeness, been requested to take a part in them.
Sister Emmerich saw some of the disciples of Jesus carry the news of this
event into Samaria, where he was teaching, on the 8th of January. Jesus went
from thence to Hebron, to comfort the family of John; and she saw him, on
the 13th of January, cure many among the workmen of Ophel who had been
injured by the fall of the aqueduct. We have seen by the relation previously
given how little gratitude they showed him. The enmity of Herod towards
Pilate was still farther increased by the manner in which the latter
revenged himself on the followers of Herod. We will insert here a few
details which were communicated at different times to Sister Emmerich. On
the 25th of March, of the second year of our Lord™s preaching, when Jesus
and his disciples were in the neighbourhood of Bethania, they were warned by
Lazarus that Judas of Gaulon intended to excite an insurrection against
Pilate. On the 28th of March, Pilate issued a proclamation to the effect
that he intended to impose a tax, the proceeds of which were partly to cover
the expenses he had incurred in raising the building which had just fallen
to the ground. This announcement was followed by a sedition headed by Judas
of Gaulon, who always stood up for liberty, and who was (unknown to himself)
a tool in the hands of the Herodians. The Herodians were rather like our
Freemasons. On the 30th of March, at ten o™clock P.M., Jesus, dressed in a
dark garment, was teaching in the Temple, with his Apostles and thirty
disciples. The revolt of the Galilæans against Pilate burst forth on this
very day, and the rebels set free fifty of their number who had been
imprisoned the day before; and many among the Romans were killed. On the 6th
of April, Pilate caused the Galilæans to be massacred at the moment of
offering sacrifice, by disguised soldiers whom he had concealed in the
Temple. Judas was killed with his companions. This massacre exasperated
Herod still more against Pilate, and we have just seen by what means their
reconciliation was affected.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXII.

The Scourging of Jesus.

THAT most weak and undecided of all judges, Pilate, had several times
repeated these dastardly words:˜I find no crime in him: I will chastise
him, therefore, and let him go;™ to which the Jews had continued to respond,
˜Crucify him! Crucify him!™ but he determined to adhere to his resolution of
not condemning our Lord to death, and ordered him to be scourged according
to the manner of the Romans. The guards were therefore ordered to conduct
him through the midst of the furious multitude to the forum, which they did
with the utmost brutality, at the same time loading him with abuse, and
striking him with their staffs. The pillar where criminals were scourged
stood to the north of Pilate™s palace, near the guard-house, and the
executioners Soon arrived, carrying whips, rods, and ropes, which they
tossed down at its base. They were six in number, dark, swarthy men,
somewhat shorter than Jesus; their chests were covered with a piece of
leather, or with some dirty stuff; their loins were girded, and their hairy,
sinewy arms bare. They were malefactors from the frontiers of Egypt, who had
been condemned for their crimes to hard labour, and were employed
principally in making canals, and in erecting public buildings, the most
criminal being selected to act as executioners in the Prætorium.

These cruel men had many times scourged poor criminals to death at this
pillar. They resembled wild beasts or demons, and appeared to be half drunk.
They struck our Lord with their fists, and dragged him by the cords with
which he was pinioned, although he followed them without offering the least
resistance, and, finally, they barbarously knocked him down against the
pillar. This pillar, placed in the centre of the court, stood alone, and did
not serve to sustain any part of the building; it was not very high, for a
tall man could touch the summit by stretching out his arm; there was a large
iron ring at the top, and both rings and hooks a little lower down. It is
quite impossible to describe the cruelty shown by these ruffians towards
Jesus: they tore off the mantle with which he had˜been clothed in derision
at the court of Herod, and almost threw him prostrate again.

Jesus trembled and shuddered as he stood before the pillar, and took off his
garments as quickly as he could, but his hands were bloody and swollen. The
only return he made when his brutal executioners struck and abused him was,
to pray for them in the most touching manner: he turned his face once
towards his Mother, who was standing overcome with grief; this look quite
unnerved her: she fainted, and would have fallen, had not the holy women who
were there supported her. Jesus put his arms round the pillar, and when his
hands were thus raised, the archers fastened them to the iron ring which was
at the top of the pillar; they then dragged his arms to such a height that
his feet, which were tightly bound to the base of the pillar, scarcely
touched the ground. Thus was the Holy of holies violently stretched, without
a particle of clothing, on a pillar used for the punishment of the greatest
criminals; and then did two furious ruffians who were thirsting for his
blood begin in the most barbarous manner to scourge his sacred body from
head to foot. The whips or scourges which they first made use of appeared to
me to be made of a species of flexible white wood, but perhaps they were
composed of the sinews ot the ox, or of strips of leather.

Our loving Lord, the Son of God, true God and true Man, writhed as a worm
under the blows of these barbarians; his mild but deep groans might be heard
from afar; they resounded through the air, forming a kind of touching
accompaniment to the hissing of the instruments of torture. These groans
resembled rather a touching cry of prayer and supplication, than moans of
anguish. The clamour of the Pharisees and the people formed another species
of accompaniment, which at times as a deafening thunder-storm deadened and
smothered these sacred and mournful cries, and in their place might be heard
the words,˜Put him to death!™˜Crucify him!™ Pilate continued parleying
with the people, and when he demanded silence in order to be able to speak,
he was obliged to proclaim his wishes to the clamorous assembly by the sound
of a trumpet, and at such moments you might again hear the noise of the
scourges, the moans of Jesus, the imprecations of the soldiers, and the
bleating of the Paschal lambs which were being washed in the Probatica pool,
at no great distance from the forum. There was something peculiarly touching
in the plaintive bleating of these lambs: they alone appeared to unite their
lamentations with the suffering moans of our Lord.

The Jewish mob was gathered together at some distance from the pillar at
which the dreadful punishment was taking place, and Roman soldiers were
stationed in different parts round about. Many persons were walking to and
fro, some in silence, others speaking of Jesus in the most insulting terms
possible, and a few appearing touched, and I thought I beheld rays of light
issuing from our Lord and entering the hearts of the latter. I saw groups of
infamous, bold-looking young men, who wore for the most part busying
themselves near the watch-house in preparing fresh scourges, while others
went to seek branches of thorns. Several of the servants of the High Priests
went up to the brutal executioners and gave them money; as also a large jug
filled with a strong bright red liquid, which quite inebriated them, and
increased their cruelty tenfold towards their innocent victim. The two
ruffians continued to strike our Lord with unremitting violence for a
quarter of an hour, and were then succeeded by two others. His body was
entirely covered with black, blue, and red marks; the blood was trickling
down on the ground, and yet the furious cries which issued from among the
assembled Jews showed that their cruelty was far from being satiated.

The night had been extremely cold, and the morning was dark and cloudy; a
little hail had fallen, which surprised every one, but towards twelve
o™clock the day became brighter, and the sun shone forth.

The two fresh executioners commenced scourging Jesus with the greatest
possible fury; they made use of a different kind of rod,a species of thorny
stick, covered with knots and splinters. The blows from these sticks tore
his flesh to pieces; his blood spouted out so as to stain their arms, and he
groaned, prayed, and shuddered. At this moment, some strangers mounted on
camels passed through the forum; they stopped for a moment, and were quite
overcome with pity and horror at the scene before them, upon which some of
the bystanders explained the cause of what they witnessed. Some of these
travellers had been baptised by John, and others had heard the sermon of
Jesus on the mountain. The noise and the tumult of the mob was even more
deafening near the house of Pilate.

Two fresh executioners took the places of the last mentioned, who were
beginning to flag; their scourges were composed of small chains, or straps
covered with iron hooks, which penetrated to the bone, and tore off large
pieces of flesh at every blow. What word, alas! could describe this
terriblethis heartrending scene!

The cruelty of these barbarians was nevertheless not yet satiated; they
untied Jesus, and again fastened him up with his back turned towards the
pillar. As he was totally unable to support himself in an upright position,
they passed cords round his waist, under his arms, and above his knees, and
having bound his hands tightly into the rings which wore placed at the upper
part of the pillar, they recommenced scourging him with even greater fury
than before; and one among them struck him constantly on the face with a new
rod. The body of our Lord was perfectly torn to shreds,it was but one
wound. He looked at his torturers with his eyes filled with blood, as if
entreating mercy; but their brutality appeared to increase, and his moans
each moment became more feeble.

The dreadful scourging had been continued without intermission for three
quarters of an hour, when a stranger of lowly birth, a relation to
Ctésiphon, the blind man whom Jesus had cured, rushed from amidst the crowd,
and approached the pillar with a knife shaped like a cutlass in his hand.
˜Cease!™ he exclaimed, in an indignant tone;˜Cease! scourge not this
innocent man unto death!™ The drunken miscreants, taken by surprise, stopped
short, while he quickly severed the cords which bound Jesus to the pillar,
and disappeared among the crowd. Jesus fell almost without consciousness on
the ground, which was bathed with his blood. The executioners left him
there, and rejoined their cruel companions, who were amusing themselves in
the guard-house with drinking, and plaiting the crown of thorns.

Our Lord remained for a short time on the ground, at the foot of the pillar,
bathed in his own blood, and two or three bold-looking girls came up to
gratify their curiosity by looking at him. They gave a glance, and were
turning away in disgust, but at the moment the pain of the wounds of Jesus
was so intense that he raised his bleeding head and looked at them. They
retired quickly, and the soldiers and guards laughed and made game of them.

During the time of the scourging of our Lord, I saw weeping angels approach
him many times; I likewise heard the prayers he constantly addressed to his
Father for the pardon of our sinsprayers which never ceased during the
whole time of the infliction of this cruel punishment. Whilst he lay bathed
in his blood I saw an angel present to him a vase containing a
bright-looking beverage which appeared to reinvigorate him in a certain
degree. The archers soon returned, and after giving him some blows with
their sticks, bade him rise and follow them. He raised himself with the
greatest difficulty, as his trembling limbs could scarcely support the
weight of his body; they did not give him sufficient time to put on his
clothes, but threw his upper garment over his naked shoulders and led him
from the pillar to the guard-house, where he wiped the blood which trickled
down his face with a corner of his garment. When he passed before the
benches on which the High Priests were seated, they cried out,˜Put him to
death! Crucify him! crucify him!™ and then turned away disdainfully. The
executioners led him into the interior of the guard-house, which was filled
with slaves, archers, hodmen, and the very dregs of the people, but there
were no soldiers.

The great excitement among the populace alarmed Pilate so much, that he sent
to the fortress of Antonia for a reinforcement of Roman soldiers, and posted
these well-disciplined troops round the guard-house; they were permitted to
talk and to deride Jesus in every possible way, but were forbidden to quit
their ranks. These soldiers, whom Pilate had sent for to intimidate the mob,
numbered about a thousand.
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CHAPTER XXIII.

Mary, during the Flagellation of our Lord.

I SAW the Blessed Virgin in a continual ecstasy during the time of the
scourging of her Divine Son; she saw and suffered with inexpressible love
and grief all the torments he was enduring. She groaned feebly, and her eyes
were, red with weeping. A large veil covered her person, and she leant upon
Mary of Heli, her eldest sister, [12] who was old and extremely like their
mother, Anne. Mary of Cleophas, the daughter of Mary of Heli, was there
also. The friends of Jesus and Mary stood around the latter; they wore large
veils, appeared overcome with grief and anxiety, and were weeping as if in
the momentary expectation of death. The dress of Mary was blue; it was long,
and partly covered by a cloak made of white wool, and her veil was of rather
a yellow white. Magdalen was totally beside herself from grief, and her hair
was floating loosely under her veil.

When Jesus fell down at the foot of the pillar, after the flagellation, I
saw Claudia Procles, the wife of Pilate, send some large pieces of linen to
the Mother of God. I know not whether she thought that Jesus would be set
free, and that his Mother would then require linen to dress his wounds, or
whether this compassionate lady was aware of the use which would be made of
her present. At the termination of the scourging, Mary came to herself for a
time, and saw her Divine Son all torn and mangled, being led away by the
archers after the scourging: he wiped his eyes, which were filled with
blood, that he might look at his Mother, and she stretched out her hands
towards him, and continued to look at the bloody traces of his footsteps. I
soon after saw Mary and Magdalen approach the pillar where Jesus had been
scourged; the mob were at a distance, and they were partly concealed by the
other holy women, and by a few kind-hearted persons who had joined them;
they knelt down on the ground near the pillar, and wiped up the sacred blood
with the linen which Claudia Procles had sent. John was not at that time
with the holy women, who were about twenty in number. The sons of Simeon and
of Obed, and Veronica, as also the two nephews of Joseph of ArimatheaAram
and Themniwere in the Temple, and appeared to be overwhelmed with grief. It
was not more than nine o™clock A.M. when the scourging terminated.


CHAPTER XXIV.

Interruption of the Visions of the Passion by the Appearance of St. Joseph
under the form of a Child.

DURING the whole time of the visions which we have just narrated (that is to
say, from the 18th of February until the 8th of March), Sister Emmerich
continued to suffer all the mental and bodily tortures which were once
endured by our Lord. Being totally immersed in these meditations, and, as it
were, dead to exterior objects, she wept and groaned like a person in the
hands of an executioner, trembled, shuddered, and writhed on her couch..
while her face resembled that of a man about to expire under torture, and a
bloody sweat often trickled over her chest and shoulders. She generally
perspired so profusely that her bed and clothes were saturated. Her
sufferings from thirst were likewise fearful, and she might truly be
compared to a person perishing in a desert from the want of water. Generally
speaking, her mouth was so parched in the morning, and her tongue so
contracted and dried up, that she could not speak, but was obliged by signs
and inarticulate sounds to beg for relief. Her constant state of fever was
probably brought on by the great pains she endured, added to which she
likewise often took upon herself the illnesses and temporal calamities
merited by others. It was always necessary for her to rest for a time before
relating the different scenes of the Passion, nor was it always that she
could speak of what she had seen, and she was even often obliged to
discontinue her narrations for the day. She was in this state of suffering
on Saturday the 8th of March, and with the greatest difficulty and suffering
described the scourging of our Lord which she had seen in the vision of the
previous night, and which appeared to be present to her mind during the
greatest part, of the following day. Towards evening, however, a change took
place, and there was an interruption in the course of meditations on the
Passion which had latterly followed one another so regularly. We will
describe this interruption, in order, in the first place, to give our
readers a more full comprehension of the interior life of this most
extraordinary person; and, in the second, to enable them to pause for a time
to rest their minds, as I well know that meditations on the Passion of our
Lord exhaust the weak, even when they remember that it was for their
salvation that he suffered and died.

The life of Sister Emmerich, both as regarded her spiritual and intellectual
existence, invariably harmonised with the spirit of the Church at different
seasons of the year. It harmonised even more strongly than man™s natural
life does with the seasons, or with the hours of the day, and this caused
her to be (if we may thus express ourselves) a realisation of the existence
and of the various intentions of the Church. Her union with its spirit was
so complete, that no sooner did a festival day begin (that is to say, on the
eve), than a perfect change took place within her, both intellectually and
spiritually. As soon as the spiritual sun of these festival days of the
Church was set, she directed all her thoughts towards that which would rise
on the following day, and disposed all her prayers, good works, and
sufferings for the attainment of the special graces attached to the feast
about to commence, like a plant which absorbs the dew, and revels in the
warmth and light of the first rays of the sun. These changes did not, as
will readily be believed, always take place at the exact moment when the
sound of the Angelus announced the commencement of a festival, and summoned
the faithful to prayer; for this bell is often, either through ignorance or
negligence, rung at the wrong time; but they commenced at the time when the
feast really began.

If the Church commemorated a sorrowful mystery, she appeared depressed,
faint, and almost powerless; but the instant the celebration of a joyful
feast commenced, both body and soul revived to a new life, as if refreshed
by the dew of new graces, and she continued in this calm, quiet, and happy
state, quite released from every kind of suffering, until the evening. These
things took place in her soul quite independently of her will; but as she
had had from infancy the most ardent desire of being obedient to Jesus and
to his Church, God had bestowed upon her those special graces which give a
natural facility for practising obedience. Every faculty of her soul was
directed towards the Church, in the same manner as a plant which, even if
put into a dark cellar, naturally turns its leaves upwards, and appears to
seek the light.

On Saturday, 8th of March 1823, after sunset, Sister Emmerich had, with the
greatest difficulty, portrayed the different events of the scourging of our
Lord, and the writer of these pages thought that her mind was occupied in
the contemplation of the˜crowning with thorns,™ when suddenly her
countenance, which was previously pale and haggard, like that of a person on
the point of death, became bright and serene, and she exclaimed in a coaxing
tone, as if speaking to a child,˜O, that dear little boy! Who is he?Stay,
I will ask him. His name is Joseph. He has pushed his way through the crowd
to come to me. Poor child, he is laughing; he knows nothing at all of what
is going on. How light his clothing is! I fear he must be cold, the air is
so sharp this morning. Wait, my child; let me put something more over
you.™ After saying these words in such a natural tone of voice that it was
almost impossible for those present not to turn round and expect to see the
child, she held up a dress which was near her, as would be done by a
kind-hearted person wishing to clothe a poor frozen child. The friend who
was standing by her bedside had not sufficient time to ask her to explain
the words she had spoken, for a sudden change took place, both in her whole
appearance and manner, when her attendant pronounced the word obedience,one
of the vows by which she had consecrated herself to our Lord. She instantly
came to herself, and, like an obedient child awakening from a sound sleep
and starting up at the voice of its mother, she stretched forth her hand,
took the rosary and crucifix which were always at her side, arranged her
dress, rubbed her eyes, and sat up. She was then carried from her bed to a
chair, as she could neither stand nor walk; and it being the time for making
her bed, her friend left the room in order to write out what he had heard
during the day.

On Sunday, the 9th of March, the friend asked her attendant what Sister
Emmerich meant the evening before when she spoke of a child called Joseph.
The attendant answered,˜She spoke of him again many times yesterday
evening; he is the son of a cousin of mine, and a great favourite of hers. I
fear that her talking so much about him is a sign that he is going to have
an illness, for she said so many times that the poor child was almost
without clothing and that he must be cold.™

The friend remembered having often seen this little Joseph playing on the
bed of Sister Emmerich, and he supposed that she was dreaming about him on
the previous day. When the friend went to see her later in the day to
endeavour to obtain a continuation of the narrations of the Passion, he
found her, contrary to his expectation, more calm, and apparently better in
health than on the previous day. She told him that she had seen nothing more
after the scourging of our Lord; and when he questioned her concerning what
she had said about little Joseph, she could not remember having spoken of
the child at all. He then asked the reason of her being so calm, serene, and
apparently well in health; and she answered,˜I always feel thus when
Mid-Lent comes, for then the Church sings with Isaias in the introit at
Mass;œRejoice, O, Jerusalem, and come together all you that love her;
rejoice with joy, you that have been in sorrow, that you may exult and be
filled from the breasts of your consolation.� Mid-Lent Sunday is
consequently a day of rejoicing; and you may likewise remember that, in the
gospel of this day, the Church relates how our Lord fed five thousand men
with five loaves and two fishes, of which twelve baskets of fragments
remained, consequently we ought to rejoice.™

She likewise added, that our Lord had deigned to visit her on that day in
the Holy Communion, and that she always felt especial spiritual consolation
when she received him on that particular day of the year. The friend cast
his eyes on the calendar of the diocese of Munster, and saw that on that day
they not only kept Mid-Lent Sunday, but likewise the Feast of St. Joseph,
the foster-father of our Lord; he was not aware of this before, because in
other places the feast of St. Joseph is kept on the 19th, and he remarked
this circumstance to Sister Emmerich, and asked her whether she did not
think that was the cause of her speaking about Joseph. She answered that she
was perfectly aware of its being the feast of the foster-father of Jesus,
but that she had not been thinking of the child of that name. However, a
moment after, she suddenly remembered what her thoughts had been the day
before, and explained to her friend that the moment the feast of St. Joseph
began, her visions of the sorrowful mysteries of the Passion ceased, and
were superseded by totally different scenes, in which St. Joseph appeared
under the form of a child, and that it was to him that the words we have
mentioned above were addressed.

We found that when she received these communications the vision was often in
the form of a child, especially in those cases when an artist would have
made use of that simile to express his ideas. If, for instance, the
accomplishment of some Scripture prophecy was being shown to her, she often
saw by the side of the illustration a child, who clearly designated the
characteristics of such or such a prophet, by his position, his dress, and
the manner in which he held in his hand and waved to and fro the prophetic
roll appended to a staff.

Sometimes, when she was in extreme suffering, a beautiful child, dressed in
green, with a calm and serene countenance, would approach, and seat himself
in a posture of resignation at the side of her bed, allowing himself to be
moved from one side to the other, or even put down on to the ground, without
the smallest opposition and constantly looking at her affectionately and
consoling her. If, when quite prostrate from illness and the sufferings of
others which she had taken upon herself, she entered into communication with
a saint, either by participation in the celebration of his feast, or from
his relics being brought to her, she sometimes saw passages of the childhood
of this saint, and at others the most terrible scenes of his martyrdom. In
her greatest sufferings she was usually consoled, instructed, or reproved
(whichever the occasion called for) by apparitions under the form of
children. Sometimes, when totally overcome by trouble and distress, she
would fall asleep, and be carried back in imagination to the scenes and
perils of her childhood. She sometimes dreamed, as her exclamations and
gestures demonstrated, that she was once more a little country girl of five
years old, climbing over a hedge, caught in the briars, and weeping with
fear.

These scenes of her childhood were always events which had really occurred,
and the words which escaped her showed what was passing in her mind. She
would exclaim (as if repeating the words of others):˜Why do you call out
so?™˜I will not hold the hedge back until you are quiet and ask me gently
to do so.™ She had obeyed this injunction when she was a child and caught in
the hedge, and she followed the same rule when grown up and suffering from
the most terrible trials. She often spoke and joked about the thorn hedge,
and the patience and prayer which had then been recommended to her, which
admonition she, in after-life, had frequently neglected, but which had never
failed her when she had recourse to it. This symbolical coincidence of the
elements of her childhood with those of her riper years shows that, in the
individual no less than in humanity at large, prophetic types may be found.
But, to the individual as well as to mankind in general, a Divine Type has
been given in the person of our Redeemer, in order that both the one and the
other, by walking in his footsteps and with his assistance, may surpass
human nature and attain to perfect wisdom and grace with God and man. Thus
it is that the will of God is done on earth as in heaven, and that his
kingdom is attained by˜men of good will.™

She then gave a short account of the visions which had, on the previous
night, interrupted her visions of the Passion at the commencement of the
feast of St. Joseph.
_________________________________________________________________

[12] Mary of Heli is often spoken of in this relation. According to Sister
Emmerich, she was the daughter of St. Joachim and St. Anne, and was born
nearly twenty years before the Blessed Virgin. She was not the child of
promise, and is called Mary of Heli, by which she is distinguished from the
other of the same name, because she was the daughter of Joachim, or
Heliachim. Her husband bore the name of Cleophas, and her daughter that of
Mary of Cleophas. This daughter was, however, older than her aunt, the
Blessed Virgin, and had been married first to Alpheus, by whom she had three
sons, afterwards the Apostles Simon, James the Less and Thaddeus. She had
one son by her second husband, Sabat and another called Simon, by her third
husband, Jonas. Simon was afterwards Bishop of Jerusalem.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXV.

Description of the personal Appearance of the Blessed Virgin.

WHILE these sad events were taking place I was in Jerusalem, sometimes in
one locality and sometimes in another; I was quite overcome, my sufferings
were intense, and I felt as if about to expire. During the time of the
scourging of my adorable Spouse, I sat in the vicinity, in a part which no
Jew dared approach, for fear of defiling himself; but I did not fear
defilement, I was only anxious for a drop of our Lord™s blood to fall upon
me, to purify me. I felt so completely heartbroken that I thought I must die
as I could not relieve Jesus, and each blow which he received drew from me
such sobs and moans that I felt quite astonished at not being driven away.
When the executioners took Jesus into the guardhouse, to crown him with
thorns, I longed to follow that I might again contemplate him in his
sufferings. Then it was that the Mother of Jesus, accompanied by the holy
women, approached the pillar and wiped up the blood with which it and the
ground around were saturated. The door of the guard-house was open, and I
heard the brutal laughter of the heartless men who were busily employed in
finishing off the crown of thorns which they had prepared for our Lord. I
was too much affected to weep, but I endeavoured to drag myself near to the
place where our Lord was to be crowned with thorns.

I once more saw the Blessed Virgin; her countenance was wan and pale, her
eves red with weeping, but the simple dignity of her demeanour cannot be
described. Notwithstanding her grief and anguish, notwithstanding the
fatigue which she had endured (for she had been wandering ever since the
previous evening through the streets of Jerusalem, and across the Valley of
Josaphat), her appearance was placid and modest, and not a fold of her dress
out of place. She looked majestically around, and her veil fell gracefully
over her shoulders. She moved quietly, and although her heart was a prey to
the most bitter grief, her countenance was calm and resigned. Her dress was
moistened by the dew which had fallen upon it during the night, and by the
tears which she had shed in such abundance; otherwise it was totally
unsoiled. Her beauty was great, but indescribable, for it was superhumana
mixture of majesty, sanctity, simplicity, and purity.

The appearance of Mary Magdalen was totally different; she was taller and
more robust, the expression of her countenance Showed greater determination,
but its beauty was almost destroyed by the strong passions which she had so
long indulged, and by the violent repentance and grief she had since felt.
It was painful to look upon her; she was the very picture of despair, her
long dishevelled hair was partly covered by her torn and wet veil, and her
appearance was that of one completely absorbed by woe, and almost beside
herself from sorrow. Many of the inhabitants of Magdalum were standing near,
gazing at her with surprise and curiosity, for they had known her in former
days, first in prosperity and afterwards in degradation and consequent
misery. They pointed, they even cast mud upon her, but she saw nothing, knew
nothing, and felt nothing, save her agonising grief.
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CHAPTER XXVI.

The Crowning with Thorns.

No sooner did Sister Emmerich recommence the narrative of her visions on the
Passion than she again became extremely ill, oppressed with fever, and so
tormented by violent thirst that her tongue was perfectly parched and
contracted; and on the Monday after Mid-Lent Sunday, she was so exhausted
that it was not without great difficulty, and after many intervals of rest,
that she narrated all which our Lord suffered in his crowning with thorns.
She was scarcely able to speak, because she herself felt every sensation
which she described in the following account:

Pilate harangued the populace many times during the time of the scourging of
Jesus, but they interrupted him once, and vociferated,˜He shall be
executed, even if we die for it.™ When Jesus was led into the guard-house,
they all cried out again,˜Crucify him, crucify him!™

After this there was silence for a time. Pilate occupied himself in giving
different orders to the soldiers, and the servants of the High Priests
brought them some refreshments; after which Pilate, whose superstitious
tendencies made him uneasy in mind, went into the inner part of his palace
in order to consult his gods, and to offer them incense.

When the Blessed Virgin and the holy women had gathered up the blood of
Jesus, with which the pillar and the adjacent parts were saturated, they
left the forum, and went into a neighbouring small house, the owner of which
I do not know. John was not, I think, present at the scourging of Jesus.

A gallery encircled the inner court of the guard-house where our Lord was
crowned with thorns, and the doors were open. The cowardly ruffians, who
were eagerly waiting to gratify their cruelty by torturing and insulting our
Lord, were about fifty in number, and the greatest part slaves or servants
of the jailers and soldiers. The mob gathered round the building, but were
soon displaced by a thousand Roman soldiers, who were drawn up in good order
and stationed there. Although forbidden to leave their ranks, these soldiers
nevertheless did their utmost by laughter and applause to incite the cruel
executioners to redouble their insults; and as public applause gives fresh
energy to a comedian, so did their words of encouragement increase tenfold
the cruelty of these men.

In the middle of the court there stood the fragment of a pillar, and on it
was placed a very low stool which these cruel men maliciously covered with
sharp flints and bits of broken potsherds. Then they tore off the garments
of Jesus, thereby reopening all his wounds; threw over his shoulders an old
scarlet mantle which barely reached his knees; dragged him to the seat
prepared, and pushed him roughly down upon it, having first placed the crown
of thorns upon his head. The crown of thorns was made of three branches
plaited together, the greatest part of the thorns being purposely turned
inwards so as to pierce our Lord™s head. Having first placed these twisted
branches on his forehead, they tied them tightly together at the back of his
head, and no sooner was this accomplished to their satisfaction than they
put a large reed into his hand, doing all with derisive gravity as if they
were really crowning him king. They then seized the reed, and struck his
head so violently that his eyes were filled with blood; they knelt before
him, derided him, spat in his face, and buffeted him, saying at the same
time,˜Hail, King of the Jews!™ Then they threw down his stool, pulled him
up again from the ground on which he had fallen, and reseated him with the
greatest possible brutality.

It is quite impossible to describe the cruel outrages which were thought of
and perpetrated by these monsters under human form. The sufferings of Jesus
from thirst, caused by the fever which his wounds and sufferings had brought
on, were intense. [13] He trembled all over, his flesh was torn piecemeal,
his tongue contracted, and the only refreshment he received was the blood
which trickled from his head on to his parched lips. This shameful scene was
protracted a full half-hour, and the Roman soldiers continued during the
whole time to applaud and encourage the perpetration of still greater
outrages.
_________________________________________________________________

[13] These meditations on the sufferings of Jesus filled Sister Emmerich
with such feelings of compassion that she begged of God to allow her to
suffer as he had done. She instantly became feverish and parched with
thirst, and, by morning, was speechless from the contraction of her tongue
and of her lips. She was in this state when her friend came to her in the
morning, and she looked like a victim which had just been sacrificed. Those
around succeeded, with some difficulty, in moistening her mouth with a
little water, but it was long before she could give any further details
concerning her meditations on the Passion.
_________________________________________________________________

CHAPTER XXVII.

Ecce Homo.

THE cruel executioners then reconducted our Lord to Pilate™s palace, with
the scarlet cloak still thrown over his shoulders, the crown of thorns on
his head, and the reed in his fettered hands. He was perfectly
unrecognisable, his eyes, mouth, and beard being covered with blood, his
body but one wound, and his back bowed down as that of an aged man, while
every limb trembled as be walked. When Pilate saw him standing at the
entrance of his tribunal, even he (hard-hearted as he usually was) started,
and shuddered with horror and compassion, whilst the barbarous priests and
the populace, far from being moved to pity, continued their insults and
mockery. When Jesus had ascended the stairs, Pilate came forward, the
trumpet was sounded to announce that the governor was about to speak, and he
addressed the Chief Priests and the bystanders in the following words:
˜Behold, I bring him forth to you, that you may know that I find no cause in
him.™

The archers then led Jesus up to Pilate, that the people might again feast
their cruel eyes on him, in the state of degradation to which he was
reduced. Terrible and heartrending, indeed, was the spectacle he presented,
and an exclamation of horror burst from the multitude, followed by a dead
silence, when he with difficulty raised his wounded head, crowned as it was
with thorns, and cast his exhausted glance on the excited throng. Pilate
exclaimed, as he pointed him out to the people;˜Ecce homo! Behold the
man!™ The hatred of the High Priests and their followers was, if possible,
increased at the right of Jesus, and they cried out,˜Put him to death;
crucify him.™˜Are you not content?™ said Pilate.˜The punishment he has
received is, beyond question, sufficient to deprive him of all desire of
mak