CATHOLIC LEGENDS

New Zealand Tablet, Volume LII, Issue 40, 21 October 1925, Page 3

CATHOLIC LEGENDS

(3) THE SANCTUARY OF OUR LADY OF THE THORNS

Not tar from the highest peak of Jura there is still seen a heap of ruins, which belonged to the church and monastery of. ISotrc Dame des Epines Fleuries. It lies at the very extremity of a'narrow and deep gorge, but somewhat sheltered on the north, and so produces every year the rarest flowers of that region. At about the distance of half a league, the opposite extremity affords a view of the ruins of an old seignorial manor, long since gone, like the house of God. All that is known now is, that it was the mansion of an illustrious family, that signalised themselves in arms; and that the last who hurt' the name of that hand of noble knights died fighting for the recovery of the Holy Land, without leaving an heir to hand down the name to posterity. The disconsolate widow did not fly from, hut remained about the old grounds which so much afforded food to her melancholy; and the report of her piety and charitable deeds extended far and wide, so that her memory has been handed down to, and respected by, Christian generations. The people, who have forgotten, all her other titles, still call her the hteased one.

On one of these days, at the close of winter, when the rigor of the season relaxes under the influence of a genial sky, the saint was taking her usual exercise, by walking along the avenue of her chateau, her mind occupied with pious thoughts. Having arrived at the thorny thicket terminating the avenue, site was not a little surprised at seeing that one of the bushes was already charged with all the decorations of spring. She quickened her steps, to assure herself that this appearance was not produced by any remains of the winter's snow: and. overjoyed at seeing it in reality crowned with a great number of beautiful small stars, she carefully removed one of its branches for the purpose of suspending it in her oratory, before an image of the Blessed Virgin, to which, from the days of her childhood, she was devoutly attached; and then returned, her heart surcharged with joy at being the bearer of this simple offering.

Whether it. was that, this feeble tribute was really pleasing to the Divine Mother ol Jesus, or that a peculiar, undefinable pleasure is reserved for the slightest effusion of a tender heart towards the object of its love, the soul of the lady of the manor never experienced more thrilling delight than on that charming evening. With heartfelt joy, she promised to return every day to the blossomed bush, and from it to bring back daily a fresh garland. That she remained faithful to her engagement who can doubt? One day. however, when the care of the sick and indigent had detained her longer than usual, she was obliged to quicken her steps, to gain her wild shrubbery before nightfall. Her Hast© was vain, for darkness overtook her; and it is said that she began: to regret having entered so far into this dreary wild,

when a clear and softened light, like that preceding the rising sun, displayed at once before her eyes all the thorns in blossom. She arrested her steps for a moment, thinking that this light might proceed from the halting-place of brigands: for that it could be. produced by myriads of glow-worms, brought out before their proper time, could not with any possibility be imagined; the season was still too far removed from the calm and close nights of summer.

■Nevertheless, the obligation, self-imposed, presenting itself to her mind, and somewhat giving 1 1 or courage, she advanced slowly with hated breath, took bold with a' trembling band of a branch—which. of. itself seemed to drop into her, fingers, so slight was the resistance offered-and re-entered the way to the manor, without once looking behind her.

During all ilial night the lady reflected on the phenomenon, and yet could find no satisfactory explanation ; and ag she was determined to unravel the mystery, on the following day, at the same hour in the evening, she repaired to the thicket, accompanied by a faithful servant, and by her old chaplain, I lie same delicious softened light played about it as nit the previous evening, and seemed to become, the nearer they approached, more bright and radiant. They stopped and .placed themselves on their knees, for it seemed to them that this light emanated from heaven; I lion the aged priest arose, alone advanced respectfully towards the flowery thorns, chanting at the same time a church hymn. and removed thorn aside without the slightest- effort. The spectacle then presented to their view so filled idiom with admiration, gratitude, and joy, that they remained a long time motionless. Tt was an image of the Blessed Virgin, rudely carved in wood, painted in rather lively colors by an unskilled band, and dressed in simple attire; and from that it was that the miraculous light, with which, the place was filled, emanated. “Hail. Mary, full of grace!” said at length the prostrate chaplain; and the sound of harmony which arose in every part of the wood, when lie had pronounced these words, would have induced one to imagine that they wore repealed by angelic choirs. He then solemnly recited those admirable litanies in which faith expresses itself, though consciously, in the highest style of poetry: and after renewed acts of adoration be raised the image between his hands to boar it to the chateau, where ho could find a sanctuary more worthy of .it. As lie moved on. the lady and her faithful domestic, their hands joined and their heads bowed, followed him slowly, offering up their prayers in union with his.

It is unnecessary to add. that the marvellous image was placed in an elegant niche, that lights blazed around it, that incense curled about its bead, on which a superb crown was placed, and that even until midnight the chanting of the faithful offered’ it

their greetings. * But, strange to say, on the f. ung morning no image could be seen, .i > little alarm was felt by those Chris- ’ tians who experienced such unalloyed happi--1 ■ ness at finding it. What unknown sin could have brought down this disgrace on the mansion of “the saint?” Why had the celestial Virgin quitted, it? What new resting-place had she selected ? There could be little difficulty in solving the mystery.? The Blessed Mother of Jesus had preferred the modest retirement of her favorite bushes to the grandeur of a worldly dwelling. She returned to the coolness and freshness of the grove, there to taste the peace of her solitude and the sweet odor of her flowers. All the inmates of the chateau repaired there in the evening, and found it there, shining with even greater splendor than on the previous eve. They fell down on their knees in respectful silence. “Powerful Queen of Angels,” said the aged chaplain, “this, then, is the temple that you prefer. Your will be done.” And in a little time after, a temple gorgeous and richa. temple such as could be erected only by the architects of those grand and glorious —was raised to cover the revered image. The great ones of the earth enriched it with costly presents ; kings en- , dowed it with a tabernacle of the purest gold. The fame of the miracles wrought through it extended far and wide through the Christian world, and induced a great many pious women to fix their abode in the valley, and place themselves under monastic rules. The saintly widow, more touched now than ever with the lights of grace, could not | refuse her assent to her appointment of superioress; and after a life of good works and edifying examples, which, like odoriferous incense, ascended at the foot of the altar of the Virgin, she died there full of days. Such, according to the old records of the province, is the origin of the Church and Convent of Notre Dame des Epines Fleuries. (4) CATHERINE OF ROME. During the time of the second visit of the great patriarch St. Dominic to the city of Rome, whilst waiting for the completion of the monastery of San Sisto, he was moved by the sight of the great corruption which prevailed among all classes of society; and though his stay there was very short, and had not been made with any intention of pursuing his apostolic labors at that time, yet he could not resist the appeal which the sins of the people made to his heart; and he accordingly commenced the reading of the holy Scriptures in the Papal Palace, with the view of remedying the idleness and vice of those attached to the court; whilst, at ' the same time, he preached daily in the churches to the commoner sort of people, gaining from both these labors an abundant fruity of souls. He also did much at this time by the preaching and propagation of die devotion of the Rosary and among the ini any wonderful effects which followed on |the adoption of this devotion, the following , story is related. i g; There was at that time in Rome a- woman, ’named Catherine, who had long lived in the

violation of every law of God, and whose house was the resort of the gayest and most dissipated society of the city, over whom her beauty and talents gave her a fatally powerful influence. 4

This woman, although she had long neglected every duty of religion, was induced by the novelty which attached to St. Dominic’s preaching, to go and hear one of his sermons. It made so deep an impression on her, that she went further; and receiving from his own hands one of the rosaries, which ho was accustomed to distribute among the people after his sermons were ended, she kept it about her person, and began the daily recital of it; many years having passed since she had said a single prayer until that time. But long habits of a worldly and sinful life were not to be overcome by a temporary impression such as that effected by the preacher’s words; and Catherine’s new devotion produced no change in her manner of living. But God designed to make this soul a special monument of His mercy, and at the same time to mark, by the manner of her conversion, the power and efficacy which He is pleased to attach to the devotion of the Rosary. One day, as she was walking near her own house, there met her a young man of noble and majestic appearance, whose aspect filled her with an emotion .she had never felt before. Addressing himself to her with a grace which, whilst it wonderfully attracted her heart, filled it at the same time with a certain sensation of awe, he bid her hasten home and prepare supper for him, for he was about to become her guest. Catherine lost no time in making everything ready, and they sat down together at the table. But what was her surprise, when she perceived that everything which her new guest touched was immediately tinged with blood ! At first she thought he must have cut himself with the knife, and therefore begged him to allow her, if such, were the case, to bind up his wound ; but he replied,

“1 have no wound; but do you not know that a Christian should eat no food which he has not first steeped in the blood of his Lord?” “In the name of God,” said the terrified woman, “tell me who you arc, and what you desire of me?” “That you shall presently know,” replied her guest; “but you must first order away these servants and tables, that we may be alone together.” The order being duly obeyed, ho rose from his seat, and in a moment she saw that his figure changed into that of a little., child of surpassing beauty, yet a beauty rather divine than human. His face had all the loveliness of childhood, but the little head was crowned with sharp thorns; on his feeble shoulders he bore a- heavy cross; while his hands and feet, beautiful in their childish. proportions, bore the marks of cruel wounds, and his whole body was streaming with blood. It was a mixed representation of the two mysteries of the Divine Infancy and Passion. Catherine’s heart smote her with a terrible remorse; all the iniquity and forgetfulness of her whole life rr me before her soul with a vivid intensity which wellnigh deprived her of reason ; but the sweet voice of the Child Jesus revived her fainting spirits, as He said, “Enough of sin and

hardness of- heart, my sister; look here, and see what thy sins have cost Me, and what 1 began to suffer even when a little Child, and ceased not to endure up to the hour of My death.” Then another change passed over the figure before her, and she saw Him as He appeared when dying on the Cross. Every bloody trace of His Passion was there ; His face livid and disfigured, and the whole body bathed in the sweat of death. This vision lasted but a few moments; it changed yet once again, and then she saw Him so glorious and beautiful, that her eyes could not .gaze at Him for the excess of light that shone from His person. It was not only from face and form that this glory beamed forth as from a sun, but every wound, which in the former visions had presented so fearful and ghastly an aspect, was now clothed with a wondrous beauty, beyond all human loveliness, and flashing with the brightness of a thousand gems. Then He spoke again ; “Look at thyself,” He said, “and look at Me. 0 blind and wandering sheep, return to the straight path and the safe fold; never forget what thou hast seen this day, for in these visions hast thou been shown the way of salvation.” And with these words He disappeared.

It is not difficult to see that in these words of Our Lord and the accompanying visions, meditation on the mysteries of His life and death which are given in the Rosary is what is pointed out as “the way of salvation.” They had their full effect on Catherine; the joyful, sorrowful, and glorious mysteries, thus pictured to her eyes, remained imprinted also on her heart. She determined once more to seek St. Dominic; and relating to him the whole of what had passed, placed the direction of her future life in his hands; for he seemed to her as an angel of God sent to guide her yet further on that way of salvation which his words had been the first to open to her. In his hands her conversion was completed; and the rest of her life was spent in so penitent and holy a manner, that he himself acknowledged that he was filled with wonder at the transformation which, by the mercy of God, had been wrought in her soul. Henceforth meditation on those divine mysteries, which seemed in so special a. . manner to have been given to her for her,.-guidance, was her constant devotion ; and at her death (which took place many years afterwards, when she had distributed all her goods to the poor, and had herself retired to a life of strict poverty and continual prayer), it is said the-Blessed Virgin appeared to her. and received her soul at the moment that she expired. Her body lies buried in the Church of St. John Lateran. (o) THE MARTYR OF ROEUX. “At the time when the children of Clovis reigned in Gaul,” says an old chronicle, “there was in Ireland a king by name Finnloga, who had a brother, the pious Bishop Brendan. Adfin, one of the kings of Scotland. had a daughter named Gelges, who had embraced the religion of Christ. King Finnloga’s son was smitten with her beauty, and married her, but privately, because it was necessary to conceal it from King Adfin,

who was an-implacable enemy of the faith, ...JyEsoon discovered it, however, and had his Ahtrrightcr seized and condemned to be burnt. In vain his relations and other persons of influence represented to him that man ought not to separate what God had joined; he ordered the stake to be prepared. But no sooner had Gelges placed her foot upon the burning wood than it was extinguished. Tier father was not convinced by this prodigy, but lie consented to spare the life of his daughter, and he condemned her to perpetual exile. She. retired with her husband to good Bishop Brendan, her uncle, and there gave birth to throe —Fnrsy, Foillan, and Ultan. On the death of their grandfather, Finnlogu, their father was raised to the throne; but instead of returning to the court, they resolved, by Brendan’s instructions, to devote themselves to the service of God, and they embarked as missionaries for Gaul.” So far the chronicler. Fnrsy, after many labors and hardships, attained the crown of martyrdom. Foillan, the second brother, was preparing on the 31st October, 655, the day on which our narrative commences, to leave Nivelles, where he bad been resting for a short space. Gertrude was at this time the abbess of the convent of Nivelles. and had given to Foillan, in 633, the domain of Fosses, where he had built a church and monastery, the tower of which, in fact, exists to this day. His brother Ultan was now at the monastery of Fosses, and Foillan was about to join him ; but before doing so be wished to celebrate the festival of All Saints with his friend the blessed Vincent Maldegber. He took his ' . journey therefore through an opening in the forest by the route of Soignies. where he was to receive hospitality for the night in the monastery of Vincent. After traversing many intricate paths in solitude and silence, without meeting any living being; and having moreover, as he thought, lost his way, he began to look about for some human habitation where In' might obtain shelter and direction. At last he perceived some rude straw-built huts, and thither lie accordingly directed bis steps. This was the hamlet of Soneffe. Foillau seeing that it was now late, and that lie bad not completed half his journey, was glad to enter a hut and ask for a guide. The frightful appearance and fierce looks of tin' inmates of the cabin would have frightened anyone but. the holy missionary. But, like the glass which we read of in the Arabian tale, that did not reflect any deformed object, the heart of the saint suspected no evil, and he at once desired twr of the men to accompany him as guides. Foillau conversed with the men from time to time as they proceeded along the rough and unequal path; but they said little in reply. Finding they were still pagans, be spoke to them of God, His goodness and ■mercy, of the redemption of man by the blood of the Crucified, and of the paradise iw. prepared for those who believe and do His will. All bis words, however, fell unheeded on their ears, and he could only be silent and pray for them. At last the saint arrived with his guides at a part of the forest where an idol was worshipped and there, whether it was that these pagans wished tc

\ force him to sacrifice like them to their god, or whether they thought only of robbing him, the four men threw themselves upon him and dispatched him with their clubs, heedless alike of his entreaties, or of the prayers which with his last voice he offered up for his murderers. Night now set in cold and dismal. A violent wind began to howl among the trees; and next morning a thick snow, which lay lor several months, covered the face of the country. Meantime, the companions of Foillau became alarmed at his prolonged absence, and at not having' seen him at the feast of Christmas, which he was accustomed' to celebrate at Fosses. The most dreadful fears began to be entertained, which were confirmed by several visions. His brother Ultan, as he was at prayers, saw pass before his eyes a dove white as snow, but with wings reddened with blood; a similar prodigy was seen by the abbess Gertrude; and on the 15th January. 656, information was given her in her cell at Nivelles, that in a certain spot of the forest of Soignies the snow was red. Next day she. repaired thither, guided by a bloody vapor which hovered in the sky, and discovered the dead body of Foillan. It

was at first carried with pomp to Nivelles, but Ultan desired it might be buried at Fosses, as the martyr himself had requested. In order to arrive at this monastery it was necessary to cross the Sambre, then swollen by the melted snow and ice. Not knowing where to cross, it is related that Gertrude ordering them to leave the horses free, the latter passed, followed by the crowd, through the place which has ever since been called the “Ford of .St. Gertrude.” The , body of the martyr was afterwards enclosed in a beautiful chapel; and on the same spot, at a later. period, was raised a magnificent church, to which was added, in 1123, an abbey of Premonstrantensians. The color of the snow, which had revealed the place of the crime, gave to this place the name of Rood (red), which was afterwards known by the name of Le Roenx. an important barony in the middle ages, and at this day a thriving little village. Soneffe, whence the murderers of the holy Foillan came, continued, and still continues, to bear the marks of the divine malediction; for while all the other hamlets around became flourishing towns, this alone has remained as in the times of paganism, a collection of miserable lints.