Purgatory: Doctrinal, Historical, and Poetical Part 30

Seek along this island ground For a vast and darksome cave, Which restrains the lake's dark wave, And supports the mountains round; He who dares to go therein, Having first contritely told All his faults, shall there behold

Where the soul is purged from sin.

He shall see with mortal eyes h.e.l.l itself--where those who die In their sins forever lie, In the fire that never dies.

He shall see, in blest fruition, Where the happy spirits dwell.

But of this be sure as well-- He who without true contrition Enters there to idly try What the cave may be, doth go To his death--he'll suffer woe While the Lord doth reign on high.

Who this day shall set you free From this poor world's weariness;

He shall grant to you, in pity, Bliss undreamed by mortal men-- Making thee a denizen Of his own celestial city.

He shall to the world proclaim His omnipotence and glory, By the wondrous Purgatory, Which shall bear thy sainted name.

Polonia, the King's daughter, whom Ludovico had married and deserted, having first tried to kill her, appears upon the scene just as the King, Patrick, and some others, who have set out upon their quest for the Purgatory, have reached a gloomy mountain and a deep cave. Polonia relates the wonders and the terrors of the cavern through which she has pa.s.sed. Patrick then speaks as follows:

PATRICK. This cave, Egerio, which you see, concealeth Many mysteries of life and death, Not for him whose hardened bosom feeleth Nought of true repentance or true faith.

But he who freely enters, who revealeth All his sins with penitential breath, Shall endure his Purgatory then, And return forgiven back again.

Later in the drama we find Ludovico desiring

"To enter Into Patrick's Purgatory; Humbly and devoutly keeping Thus the promise that I gave him."

Again, he says:

"I have faith and firm reliance That you yet shall see me happy, If in G.o.d's name blessed Patrick,

"Aid me in the Purgatory."

Having confessed his sins and made due preparation, he enters the cave.

On his return hence, the Priest, or Canon as he is called, bids him relate the wonders he has seen. He finds himself first "in thick and pitchy darkness," he hears horrid clangor, and falls down at length into a hall of jasper, where he meets with twelve grave men, who encourage him, and bid him keep up his courage amid the fearful sights he is to behold later on. At length he reaches the Purgatory:

"I approached another quarter; There it seemed that many spirits I had known elsewhere, were gathered Into one vast congregation, Where, although 'twas plain they suffered, Still they looked with joyous faces, Wore a peaceable appearance, Uttered no impatient accents, But, with moistened eyes uplifted Towards the heavens, appeared imploring Pity, and their sins lamenting.

This, in truth, was Purgatory, Where the sins that are more venial Are purged out."

He then alludes to that Bridge or "Brig o' Dread," to which allusion will be made in another portion of our volume. As this pa.s.sage is celebrated, it is well to give it in full:

LUDOVICO. To a river did they lead me, Flowers of fire were on its margin, Liquid sulphur was its current, Many-headed hydras--serpents-- Monsters of the deep were in it; It was very broad, and o'er it Lay a bridge, so slight and narrow That it seem'd a thin line only.

It appear'd so weak and fragile, That the slightest weight would sink it.

"Here thy pathway lies," they told me, "O'er this bridge so weak and narrow; And, for thy still greater horror, Look at those who've pa.s.s'd before thee."

Then I look'd, and saw the wretches Who the pa.s.sage were attempting Fall amid the sulphurous current, Where the snakes with teeth and talons Tore them to a thousand pieces.

Notwithstanding all these horrors, I, the name of G.o.d invoking, Undertook the dreadful pa.s.sage, And, undaunted by the billows, Or the winds that blew around me, Reached the other side in safety.

Here within a wood I found me, So delightful and so fertile, That the past was all forgotten.

On my path rose stately cedars, Laurels--all the trees of Eden.

After having described some of the glories of this abode of bliss, he relates his meeting with "the resplendent, the most glorious, the great Patrick, the Apostle"--and was thus enabled to keep his early promise.

The poem ends with the following somewhat confused list of authorities:

"For with this is now concluded The historic legend told us By Dionysius, the great Carthusian, With Henricus Salteriensis, Caesarius Heisterbachensis, Matthew Paris, and Ranulphus, Monbrisius, Marolicus Siculus, David Rothe, and the judicious Primate over all Hibernia, Bellarmino, Beda, Serpi, Friar Dymas, Jacob Sotin, Messingham, and in conclusion The belief and pious feeling Which have everywhere maintained it."

From Alban Butler's notes to "Lives of the Saints," Vol. I. p. 103, we subjoin the following:

"St. Patrick's Purgatory is a cave on an island in the Lake Dearg (Lough Derg), in the County of Donegal, near the borders of Fermanagh.

Bollandus shows the falsehood of many things related concerning it.

Upon complaint of certain superst.i.tious and false notions of the vulgar, in 1497, it was stopped up by an order of the Pope. See Bollandus, 'Tillemont,' p. 287, Alemand in his 'Monastic Hist. of Ireland,' and Thiers, 'Hist. des. Superst.' I. 4 ed. Nov. It was soon after opened again by the inhabitants; but only according to the original inst.i.tution, as Bollandus takes notice, as a penitential retirement for those who voluntarily chose it, probably in imitation of St. Patrick, or other saints, who had there dedicated themselves to a penitential state. They usually spent several days here, living on bread and water, lying on rushes, praying and making stations barefoot."

THE BRIG O' DREAD.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

In connection with the extracts which we have given from the celebrated Drama of Calderon, the "Purgatory of St. Patrick," and in particular of that one which relates to the pa.s.sage of Ludovico over the bridge which leads from Purgatory to Paradise, it will be interesting to quote the following from Sir Walter Scott's "Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border:"

"There is a sort of charm, sung by the lower ranks of Roman Catholics, in some parts of the north of England, while watching a dead body previous to interment. The tone is doleful and monotonous, and, joined to the mysterious import of the words, has a solemn effect. The word sleet, in the chorus, seems to be corrupted from selt or salt; a quant.i.ty of which, in compliance with a popular superst.i.tion, is frequently placed on the breast of a corpse. The mythologic ideas of the dirge are common to various creeds. The Mahometan believes that, in advancing to the final judgment seat, he must traverse a bar of red-hot iron, stretched across a bottomless gulf. The good works of each true believer, a.s.suming a substantial form, will then interpose between his feet and this 'Bridge of Dread;' but the wicked, having no such protection, fall headlong into the abyss." Pa.s.sages similar to this dirge are also to be found in "Lady Culross' Dream," as quoted in the second Dissertation, prefixed by Mr. Pinkerton to his select Scottish Ballads, 2 vols. The dreamer journeys towards heaven, accompanied and a.s.sisted by a celestial guide:

"Through dreadful dens, which made my heart aghast, He bore me up when I began to tire.

Sometimes we clamb o'er craggy mountains high, And sometimes stay'd on ugly braes of sand.

"They were so stay that wonder was to see; But when I fear'd, he held me by the hand.

Through great deserts we wandered on our way-- Forward we pa.s.sed a narrow bridge of trie, O'er waters great, which hideously did roar."

Again, she supposes herself suspended over an infernal gulf:

"Ere I was ware, one gripped me at the last, And held me high above a flaming fire.

The fire was great, the heat did pierce me sore; My faith grew-weak; my grip was very small.

I trembled fast; my faith grew more and more."

A horrible picture of the same kind, dictated probably by the author's unhappy state of mind, is to be found in Brooke's "Fool of Quality."

The Russian funeral service, without any allegorical imagery, expresses the sentiment of the dirge in language alike simple and n.o.ble: "Hast thou pitied the afflicted, O man? In death shalt thou be pitied. Hast thou consoled the orphan? The orphan will deliver thee. Hast thou clothed the naked? The naked will procure thee protection."-- _Richardson's "Anecdotes of Russia."_

But the most minute description of the Brig o' Dread occurs in the legend of Sir Owain, No. XL. in the MS. collection of romances, W. 4.

I, Advocates' Library, Edinburgh. Sir Owain, a Northumbrian knight, after many frightful adventures in St. Patrick's Purgatory, at last arrives at the bridge, which, in the legend, is placed betwixt Purgatory and Paradise:

"The fendes han the Knight ynome, To a stink and water thai ben ycome, He no seigh never er non swiche; It stank fouler than ani hounde, And mani mile it was to the grounde, And was as swart as piche.

"And Owain seigh ther ouer ligge A swithe, strong, naru brigge: The fendes seyd tho; Lo, Sir Knight, sestow this, This is the brigge of Paradis, Here ouer thou must go.

"And we the schul with stones prowe And the winde the schul ouer blow, And wirche the ful wo; Thou no schalt for all this unduerd, Bot gif thou falle a midwerd, To our fewes [1] mo.

[Footnote 1: Sir Walter Scott says probably a contraction of "fellows."]

"And when thou art adoun yfalle, Than schal com our felawes alle, And with her hokes the hede; We schul the teche a newe playe: Thou hast served ous mani a day, And into h.e.l.le the lede.

"Owain biheld the brigge smert, The water ther under blek and swert, And sore him gan to drede; For of othing he tok yeme, Never mot, in sonne beme, Thicker than the fendes yede.

"The brigge was as heigh as a tower, And as scharpe as a rasour, And naru it was also;

"And the water that ther run under, Brend o' lighting and of thonder, That thocht him michel wo.

"Ther nis no clerk may write with ynke, No no man no may bithink, No no maister deuine; That is ymade forsoth ywis, Under the brigge of paradis Halven del the pine.

"So the dominical ous telle, Ther is the pure entrae of h.e.l.le, Seine Poule [1] verth witnesse; Whoso falleth of the brigge adown, Of him nis no redempcion, Neither more nor lesse.