From the Meditations of
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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
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.
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.
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
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
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
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.
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.
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
We give our readers a slight sketch of her life, intending at some future they to publish her biography more in full.
OF
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
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
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 relics 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 relics 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
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
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
Several other contemplative persons, especially devoted
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
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 life—spent 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
‘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
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
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,
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
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
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
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,
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 hands—those 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,
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
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 be—the 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
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
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 relics 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 relics 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 saint—a 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 heart—that 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: ‘“ 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: “When
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
‘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, “This is the body of the Church,
the body of all
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 me—that 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 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 counterpane—that
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 Church—a
favour which perhaps no one had ever before enjoyed
to so great an extent—a 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 sand—the
charitable industrious hand, which had so often fed
the hungry and clothed the naked—this 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
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: “ 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
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.
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 occasion—the guests were dressed
as travellers, and ate, standing, the lamb and other
food prescribed by the law—the 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 (
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
(
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.
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
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
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 Temple—thus 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
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.
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
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.
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
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 town—it 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.
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
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
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.
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
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,
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.
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,
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,
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’ (
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.
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
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
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.
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
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
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;
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,
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.
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.
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 him—I 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
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
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 onward—it 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 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.
‘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.
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 God—but 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
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
him—the 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
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
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 hill—his 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
The apostles, disciples, virgins, and holy women, the martyrs, confessors, hermits, popes, and bishops, and large bands of religious of both sexes—in one word, the entire army of the blessed—appeared 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 Fountain—the 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
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 death—in 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
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 them—I 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
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.
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
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
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
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 them—since 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
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
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?’
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
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
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
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’ (
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
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 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.
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
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
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
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 everywhere—the 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
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
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 them—then 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.
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 place—in 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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 devils—that he
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
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
The wrath of Caiphas was indescribable; for the cruel
treatment which Jesus had suffered, his Divine patience,
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
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
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
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.
No sooner did Caiphas, with the other members of
the Council, leave the tribunal than a crowd of miscreants—the
very scum of the people—surrounded 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
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
unction—the 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
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.
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
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
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 him—he 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
THE Blessed Virgin was ever united to her Divine
Son by interior spiritual communications; she was, therefore,
fully aware of all that happened to him—she 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
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
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
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.
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.
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
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.
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
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
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
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: “And 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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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,
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 on—bring him to be judged!’
and then, turning
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
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 yourselves—had 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,
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 of “Hosanna 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 king—made 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
‘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
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 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.
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
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
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
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,
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
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,
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
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
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
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
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.
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
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
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
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
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 terrible—this 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,
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 sins—prayers 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
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.
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,
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
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
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
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
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; “Rejoice,
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
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
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,
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.
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
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.
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
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.
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
The undecided, weak conduct of Pilate filled Claudia
Procles with anxiety; she again sent him the pledge,
to remind him of his promise, but he only returned a
vague, superstitious answer, importing that he should
leave the decision of the case to the gods. The enemies
of Jesus, the High Priests and the Pharisees, having
heard of the efforts which were being made by Claudia
to save him, caused a report to be spread among the
people, that the partisans of our Lord had seduced her,
that he would be released, and then join the Romans
and bring about the
Pilate was in such a state of indecision and uncertainty as to be perfectly beside himself; he did not know what step to take next, and again addressed himself to the enemies of Jesus, declaring that ‘he found no crime in him,’ but they demanded his death still more clamorously. He then remembered the contradictory accusations which had been brought against Jesus, the mysterious dreams of his wife, and the unaccountable impression which the words of Jesus had made on himself, and therefore determined to question him again in order thus to obtain some information which might enlighten him as to the course he ought to pursue; he therefore returned to the Prætorium, went alone into a room, and sent for our Saviour. He glanced at the mangled and bleeding Form before him, and exclaimed inwardly: ‘Is it possible that he can be God?’ Then he turned to Jesus, and adjured him to tell him if he was God, if he was that king who had been promised to the Jews, where his kingdom was, and to what class of gods he belonged. I can only give the sense of the words of Jesus, but they were solemn and severe. He told him ‘that his kingdom was not of this world,’ and he likewise spoke strongly of the many hidden crimes with which the conscience of Pilate was defiled; warned him of the dreadful fate which would be his, if he did not repent; and finally declared that he himself, the Son of Man, would come at the last day, to pronounce a just judgment upon him.
Pilate was half frightened and half angry at the
words of Jesus; he returned to the balcony, and again
declared that he would release Jesus; but they cried
out: ‘If thou release this man, thou art not Cæsar’s
friend. For whosoever maketh himself a king speaketh
against Cæsar.’ Others said that they would accuse
him to the Emperor of having disturbed their festival;
that he must make up his mind at once, because they
were obliged to be in the Temple by ten o’clock at night.
The cry, ‘Crucify him! crucify him!’ resounded
on all sides; it reëchoed
WHENEVER, during my meditations on the Passion of our Lord, I imagine I hear that frightful cry of the Jews, ‘His blood be upon us, and upon our children,’ visions of a wonderful and terrible description display before my eyes at the same moment the effect of that solemn curse. I fancy I see a gloomy sky covered with clouds, of the colour of blood, from which issue fiery swords and darts, lowering over the vociferating multitude; and this curse, which they have entailed upon themselves, appears to me to penetrate even to the very marrow of their bones, even to the unborn infants. They appear to me encompassed on all sides by darkness; the words they utter take, in my eyes, the form of black flames, which recoil upon them, penetrating the bodies of some, and only playing around others.
The last-mentioned were those who were converted after the death of Jesus, and who were in considerable numbers, for neither Jesus nor Mary ever ceased praying, in the midst of their sufferings, for the salvation of these miserable beings.
When, during visions of this kind, I turn my thoughts
to the holy souls of Jesus and Mary, and to those of
the enemies of Christ, all that takes place within them
is
I likewise often see consolatory, and at other times menacing voices, under the appearance of bright or coloured gleams of light, issuing from the mouths of these different apparitions; and I see the feelings of their souls, their interior sufferings, and in a word, their every thought, under the appearance of dark or bright rays. I then understand everything perfectly, but it is impossible for me to give an explanation to others; besides which, I am so ill, and so totally overcome by the grief which I feel for my own sins and for those of the world, I am so overpowered by the sight of the sufferings of our Lord, that I can hardly imagine how it is possible for me to relate events with the slightest coherency. Many of these things, but more especially the apparitions of devils and of angels, which are related by other persons who have had visions of the Passion of Jesus Christ, are fragments of symbolical interior perceptions of this species, which vary according to the state of the soul of the spectator. Hence the numerous contradictions, because many things are naturally forgotten or omitted.
Sister Emmerich sometimes spoke on these subjects, either during the time of her visions on the Passion, or before they commenced; but she more often refused to speak at all concerning them, for fear of causing confusion in the visions. It is easy to see how difficult it must have been for her, in the midst of such a variety of apparitions, to preserve any degree of connection in her narrations. Who can therefore be surprised at finding some omissions and confusion in her descriptions?
PILATE, who did not desire to know the truth, but was solely anxious to get out of the difficulty without harm to himself, became more undecided than ever; his conscience whispered—‘Jesus is innocent;’ his wife said, ‘he is holy;’ his superstitious feelings made him fear that Jesus was the enemy of his gods; and his cowardice filled him with dread lest Jesus, if he was a god, should wreak his vengeance upon his judge. He was both irritated and alarmed at the last words of Jesus, and he made another attempt for his release; but the Jews instantly threatened to lay an accusation against him before the Emperor. This menace terrified him, and he determined to accede to their wishes, although firmly convinced in his own mind of the innocence of Jesus, and perfectly conscious that by pronouncing sentence of death upon him he should violate every law of justice, besides breaking the promise he had made to his wife in the morning. Thus did he sacrifice Jesus to the enmity of the Jews, and endeavour to stifle remorse by washing his hands before the people, saying, ‘I am innocent of the blood of this just man; look you to it.’ Vainly dost thou pronounce these words, O Pilate! for his blood is on thy head likewise; thou canst not wash his blood from thy soul, as thou dost from thy hands.
Those fearful words, ‘His blood be upon us and
upon our children,’ had scarcely ceased to resound,
when Pilate commenced his preparations for passing sentence.
He called for the dress which he wore on state occasions,
put a species of diadem, set in precious stones, on
his head, changed his mantle, and caused a staff to
be carried before him. He was surrounded with soldiers,
preceded by officers belonging to the tribunal, and
followed by Scribes, who carried rolls of parchments
and books used for inscribing names and dates. One man
walked in front, who carried the trumpet. The procession
marched in this order from Pilate’s palace to the forum,
where an elevated seat, used
Our Lord was still clothed in his purple garment, his crown of thorns upon his head, and his hands manacled, when the archers brought him up to the tribunal, and placed him between the two malefactors. As soon as Pilate was seated, he again addressed the enemies of Jesus, in these words, ‘Behold your King!’
But the cries of ‘Crucify him! Crucify him!’ resounded on all sides.
‘Shall I crucify your King?’ said Pilate.
‘We have no King but Cæsar!’ responded the High Priests.
Pilate found it was utterly hopeless to say anything more, and therefore commenced his preparations for passing sentence. The two thieves had received their sentence of crucifixion some time before; but the High Priests had obtained a respite for them, in order that our Lord might suffer the additional ignominy of being executed with two criminals of the most infamous description. The crosses of the two thieves were by their sides; that intended for our Lord was not brought, because he was not as yet sentenced to death.
The Blessed Virgin, who had retired to some distance
after the scourging of Jesus, again approached to hear
the sentence of death pronounced upon her Son and her
God. Jesus stood in the midst of the archers, at the
foot of the a staircase leading up to the tribunal.
The trumpet was sounded to demand silence, and then
the cowardly, the
After a long preamble, which was composed principally of the most pompous and exaggerated eulogy of the Emperor Tiberias, Pilate spoke of the accusations which had been brought against Jesus by the High Priests. He said that they had condemned him to death for having disturbed the public peace, and broken their laws by calling himself the Son of God and King of the Jews; and that the people had unanimously demanded that their decree should be carried out. Notwithstanding his oft-repeated conviction of the innocence of Jesus, this mean and worthless judge was not ashamed of saying that he likewise considered their decision a just one, and that he should therefore pronounce sentence—which he did in these words: ‘I condemn Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews, to be crucified;’ and he ordered the executioners to bring the cross. I think I remember likewise that he took a long stick in his hands, broke it, and threw the fragments at the feet of Jesus.
On hearing these words of Pilate the Mother of Jesus
became for a few moments totally unconscious, for she
was now certain that her beloved Son must die the most
ignominious
Pilate then wrote down the sentence, and those who stood behind him copied it out three times. The words which he wrote were quite different from those he had pronounced; I could see plainly that his mind was dreadfully agitated—an angel of wrath appeared to guide his hand. The substance of the written sentence was this: ‘I have been compelled, for fear of an insurrection, to yield to the wishes of the High Priests, the Sanhedrim, and the people, who tumultuously demanded the death of Jesus of Nazareth, whom they accused of having disturbed the public peace, and also of having blasphemed and broken their laws. I have given him up to them to be crucified, although their accusations appeared to be groundless. I have done so for fear of their alleging to the Emperor that I encourage insurrections, and cause dissatisfaction among the Jews by denying them the rights of justice.’
He then wrote the inscription for the cross, while his clerks copied out the sentence several times, that these copies might be sent to distant parts of the country.
The High Priests were extremely dissatisfied at the words of the sentence, which they said were not true; and they clamorously surrounded the tribunal to endeavour to persuade him to alter the inscription, and not to put King of the Jews, but that he said, I am the King of the Jews.
Pilate was vexed, and answered impatiently, ‘What I have written I have written!’
They were likewise anxious that the cross of our
Lord should not be higher than those of the two thieves,
but it was necessary for it to be so, because there
would otherwise
During the time that Pilate was pronouncing the iniquitous sentence, I saw his wife, Claudia Procles, send him back the pledge which he had given her, and in the evening she left his palace and joined the friends of our Lord, who concealed her in a subterraneous vault in the house of Lazarus at Jerusalem. Later in the same day, I likewise saw a friend of our Lord engrave the words, Judex injustus, and the name of Claudia Procles, on a green-looking stone, which was behind the terrace called Gabbatha—this stone is still to be found in the foundations of a church or house at Jerusalem, which stands on the spot formerly called Gabbatha. Claudia Procles became a Christian, followed St. Paul, and became his particular friend.
No sooner had Pilate pronounced sentence than Jesus
was given up into the hands of the archers, and the
clothes which he had taken off in the court of Caiphas
were brought for him to put on again. I think some charitable
persons had washed them, for they looked clean. The
ruffians who surrounded Jesus untied his hands for his
dress to be changed, and roughly dragged off the scarlet
mantle with which they had clothed him in mockery, thereby
reopening all his wounds; he put on his own linen under-garment
with trembling hands, and they threw his scapular over
his shoulders. As the crown of thorns was too large
and prevented the seamless robe, which his
The two thieves were standing, one on the right and the other on the left of Jesus, with their hands tied and a chain round their necks; they were covered with black and livid marks, the effects of the scourging of the previous day. The demeanour of the one who was afterwards converted was quiet and peaceable, while that of the other, on the contrary, was rough and insolent, and he joined the archers in abusing and insulting Jesus, who looked upon his two companions with love and compassion, and offered up his sufferings for their salvation. The archers gathered together all the implements necessary for the crucifixions, and prepared everything for the terrible and painful journey to Calvary.
Annas and Caiphas at last left off disputing with
Pilate, and angrily retired, taking with them the sheets
of parchment on which the sentence was written; they
went away in haste, fearing that they should get to
the Temple too late for the Paschal sacrifice. Thus
did the High Priests, unknowingly to themselves, leave
the true Paschal Lamb. They went to a temple made of
stone, to immolate and to sacrifice that lamb which
was but a symbol, and they left the true Paschal Lamb,
who was being led to the Altar of the Cross by the cruel
executioners; they were most careful not to contract
exterior defilement, while their souls were completely
defiled by anger, hatred, and envy. They had said, ‘His
blood be upon us and upon our children!’ And by
these words they had performed the ceremony, and had
placed the hand of the sacrificer upon the head of the
Victim. Thus were the two paths formed—the one leading
to the altar belonging to the Jewish law, the other
leading to the Altar of Grace: Pilate, that proud and
irresolute pagan,
The iniquitous sentence was given at about ten in the morning.
WHEN Pilate left the tribunal a portion of the soldiers
followed him, and were drawn. up in files before the
palace; a few accompanying the criminals. Eight-and-
twenty armed Pharisees came to the forum on horseback,
in order to accompany Jesus to the place of execution,
and among these were the six enemies of Jesus, who had
assisted in arresting him in the Garden of Olives. The
archers led Jesus into the middle of the court, the
slaves threw down the cross at his feet, and the two
arras were forthwith tied on to the centre piece. Jesus
knelt down by its side, encircled it with his sacred
arms, and kissed it three times, addressing, at the
same time, a most touching prayer of thanksgiving to
his Heavenly Father for that work of redemption which
he had begun. It was the custom among pagans for the
priest to embrace a new altar, and Jesus in like manner
embraced his cross, that august altar on which the bloody
and expiatory sacrifice was about to be offered. The
archers soon made him rise, and then kneel down again,
and almost without any assistance, place the heavy cross
on his right shoulder, supporting its great weight with
his right hand. I saw angels come to his assistance,
otherwise he would have been unable even to raise it
from the ground. Whilst he was on his knees, and still
praying, the executioners put the arms of the crosses,
which were a little curved and not as yet fastened to
the centre pieces, on the backs of the two thieves,
and tied their hands tightly to them. The middle parts
of the crosses were carried by slaves, as the transverse
pieces wore not to be fastened to them until just before
the time of execution.
By means of ropes, which the executioners had fastened
to the foot of the cross, two archers supported it to
prevent its getting entangled in anything, and four
other soldiers took hold of the ropes, which they had
fastened to Jesus underneath his clothes. The sight
of our dear Lord trembling beneath his burden, reminded
me forcibly of Isaac, when he carried the wood destined
for his own sacrifice up the mountain. The trumpet of
Pilate was sounded as the signal for departure, for
he himself intended to go to Calvary at the head of
a detachment of soldiers, to prevent the possibility
of an insurrection. He was on horseback, in armour,
surrounded by officers and a body of cavalry, and followed
by about three hundred of the infantry, who came from
the frontiers of Italy and Switzerland. The procession
was headed by a trumpeter, who sounded his trumpet at
every corner and proclaimed the sentence. A number of
women and children walked behind the procession with
ropes, nails, wedges, and baskets filled with different
articles, in their hands; others, who were stronger,
carried poles, ladders, and the centre pieces of the
crosses of the two thieves, and some of the Pharisees
followed on horseback. A boy who had charge of the inscription
which Pilate had written for the cross, likewise carried
the crown of thorns (which had been taken off the head
of Jesus) at the end of a long stick, but he did not
appear to be wicked and hard-hearted like the rest.
Next I beheld our Blessed Saviour and Redeemer—his
bare feet swollen and bleeding—his back bent as though
he were
Jesus was conducted by a narrow back street, that the procession might not inconvenience the persons who were going to the Temple, and likewise in order that Pilate and his band might have the whole principal street entirely to themselves. The crowd had dispersed and started in different directions almost immediately after the reading of the sentence, and the greatest part of the Jews either returned to their own houses, or to the Temple, to hasten their preparations for sacrificing the Paschal Lamb; but a certain number were still hurrying on in disorder to see the melancholy procession pass; the Roman soldiers prevented all persons from joining the procession, therefore the most curious were obliged to go round by back streets, or to quicken their steps so as to reach Calvary before Jesus. The street through which they led Jesus was both narrow and dirty; he suffered much in passing through it, because the archers were close and harassed him. Persons stood on the roofs of the houses, and at the windows, and insulted him with opprobrious language; the slaves who were working in the streets threw filth and mud at him; even the children, incited by his enemies, had filled their pinafores with sharp stones, which they throw down before their doors as he passed, that he might be obliged to walk over them.
THE street of which we have just spoken, after turning
a little to the left, became rather steep, as also wider,
a subterranean aqueduct proceeding from Mount Sion passed
under it, and in its vicinity was a hollow which was
often filled with water and mud after rain, and a large
stone was placed in its centre to enable persons to
pass over more easily. When Jesus reached this spot,
his strength was perfectly exhausted; he was quite unable
to move; and as the archers dragged and pushed him without
showing the slightest compassion, he fell quite down
against this
THE afflicted Mother of Jesus had left the forum,
accompanied by John and some other women, immediately
after the unjust sentence was pronounced. She had employed
herself in walking to many of the spots sanctified by
our Lord and watering them with her tears; but when
the sound of the trumpet, the rush of people, and the
clang of the horsemen announced that the procession
was about to start for Calvary, she could not resist
her longing desire to behold her beloved Son once more,
and she begged John to take her to some place through
which he must pass. John conducted her to a palace,
which had an entrance in that street which Jesus traversed
after his first fall; it was, I believe, the residence
of the high priest Caiphas, whose tribunal was in the
division called Sion. John asked and obtained leave
from a kind-hearted servant
A momentary confusion ensued. John and the holy women endeavoured to raise Mary from the ground, and the archers reproached her, one of them saying, ‘What hast thou to do here, woman? He would not have been in our hands if he had been better brought up.’
A few of the soldiers looked touched; and, although they obliged the Blessed Virgin to retire to the doorway, not one laid hands upon her. John and the women surrounded her as she fell half fainting against a stone, which was near the doorway, and upon which the impression of her hands remained. This stone was very hard, and was afterwards removed to the first Catholic church built in Jerusalem, near the Pool of Bethsaida, during the time that St. James the Less was Bishop of that city. The two disciples who were with the Mother of Jesus carried her into the house, and the door was shut. In the mean time the archers had raised Jesus, and obliged him to carry the cross in a different manner. Its arms being unfastened from the centre, and entangled in the ropes with which he was bound, he supported them on his arm, and by this means the weight of the body of the cross was a little taken of, as it draped more on the ground. I saw numbers of persons standing about in groups, the greatest part amusing themselves by insulting our Lord in different ways, but a tow veiled females were weeping.
THE procession had reached an arch formed in an old
wall belonging to the town, opposite to a square, in
which three streets terminated, when Jesus stumbled
against a large stone which was placed in the middle
of the archway, the cross slipped from his shoulder,
he fell upon the Stone, and was totally unable to rise.
Many respectable-looking persons who were on their way
to the Temple stopped, and exclaimed compassionately:
‘Look at that poor man, he is certainly dying!’ but
his enemies showed no compassion. This fall caused a
fresh delay, as our Lord could not stand up again, and
the Pharisees said to the soldiers: ‘We shall never
got him to the place of execution alive, if you do not
find some one to carry his cross.’ At this moment Simon
of Cyrene, a pagan, happened, to pass by, accompanied
by his three children. He was a gardener, just returning
home after working in a garden near the eastern wall
of the city, and carrying a bundle of lopped branches.
The soldiers perceiving by his dress that he was a pagan,
seized him, and ordered him to assist Jesus in carrying
his cross. He refused at first, but was soon compelled
to obey, although his children, being frightened, cried
and made a great noise, upon which some women quieted
and took charge of them. Simon was much annoyed, and
expressed the greatest vexation at being obliged to
walk with a man in so deplorable a condition of dirt
and misery; but Jesus wept, and cast such a mild and
heavenly look upon him that he was touched, and instead
of continuing to show reluctance, helped him to rise,
while the executioners fastened one arm of the cross
on his shoulders, and he walked behind our Lord, thus
relieving him in a great measure from its weight; and
when all was arranged, the procession moved forward.
Simon was a stout-looking man, apparently about forty
years of age. His children were dressed in tunics made
of a variegated material. the two eldest, named Rufus and
WHILE the procession was passing through a long street, an incident took place which made a strong impression upon Simon. Numbers of respectable persons were hurrying towards the Temple, of whom many got out of the way when they saw Jesus, from a Pharisaical fear of defilement, while others, on the contrary, stopped and expressed pity for his sufferings. But when the procession had advanced about two hundred steps from the spot where Simon began to assist our Lord in carrying his cross, the door of a beautiful house on the left opened, and a woman of majestic appearance, holding a young girl by the hand, came out, and walked up to the very head of the procession. Seraphia was the name of the brave woman who thus dared to confront the enraged multitude; she was the wife of Sirach, one of the councillors belonging to the Temple, and was afterwards known by the name of Veronica, which name was given from the words vera icon (true portrait), to commemorate her brave conduct on this day.
Seraphia had prepared some excellent aromatic wine,
which she piously intended to present to our Lord to
refresh him on his dolorous way to Calvary. She had
been standing in the street for some time, and at last
went back into the house to wait. She was, when I first
saw her, enveloped in a long veil, and holding a little
girl of nine years of age, whom she had adopted, by
the hand; a large veil was likewise hanging on her arm,
and the little girl endeavoured to hide the jar of wine
when the procession approached. Those who were marching
at the head of the
No sooner did she reach her room than she placed the woollen veil on a table, and fell almost senseless on her knees. A friend who entered the room a short time after, found her thus kneeling, with the child weeping by her side, and saw, to his astonishment, the bloody countenance of our Lord imprinted upon the veil, a perfect likeness, although heartrending and painful to look upon. He roused Seraphia, and pointed to the veil. She again knelt down before it, and exclaimed through her tears, ‘Now I shall indeed leave all with a happy heart, for my Lord has given me a remembrance of himself.’ The texture of this veil was a species of very fine wool; it was three times the length of its width, and was generally worn on the shoulders. It was customary to present these veils to persons who were in affliction, or over-fatigued, or ill, that they might wipe their faces with them, and it was done in order to express sympathy or compassion. Veronica kept this veil until her death, and hung it at the head of her bed; it was then given to the Blessed Virgin, who left It to the Apostles, and they afterwards passed it on to the Church.
Seraphia and John the Baptist were cousins, her father
Seraphia married rather late in life; her husband, Sirach, was descended from the chaste Susannah, and was a member of the Sanhedrim. He was at first greatly opposed to our Lord, and his wife suffered much on account of her attachment to Jesus, and to the holy women, but Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus brought him to a better state of feeling, and he allowed Seraphia to follow our Lord. When Jesus was unjustly accused in the court of Caiphas, the husband of Seraphia joined with Joseph and Nicodemus in attempts to obtain the liberation of our Lord, and all three resigned their seats in the Council.
Seraphia was about fifty at the time of the triumphant
procession of our Lord when he entered into Jerusalem
on Palm Sunday, and I then saw her take off her veil
and spread it on the ground for him to walk upon. It
was this same veil, which she presented to Jesus, at
this his second procession, a procession which outwardly
appeared
THE procession was still at some distance from the south-west gate, which was large, and attached to the fortifications, and the street was rough and steep; it had first to pass under a vaulted arch, then over a bridge, and finally under a second arch. The wall on the left side of the gate rims first in a southerly direction, then deviates a little to the west, and finally runs to the south behind Mount Sion. When the procession was near this gate, the brutal archers shoved Jesus into a stagnant pool, which was close to it; Simon of Cyrene, in his endeavours to avoid the pool, gave the cross a twist, which caused Jesus to fall down for the fourth time in the midst of the dirty mud, and Simon had the greatest difficulty in lifting up the cross again. Jesus then exclaimed in a tone which, although clear, was moving and sad: ‘Jerusalem, Jerusalem, how often would I have gathered together thy children as the hen doth gather her chickens under her wings, and thou wouldst not?’ When the Pharisees heard these words, they became still more angry, and recommencing their insults and blows endeavoured to force him to get up out of the mud. Their cruelty to Jesus so exasperated Simon of Cyrene that he at last exclaimed, ‘If you continue this brutal conduct, I will throw down the cross and carry it no farther. I will do so if you kill me for it.’
A narrow and stony path was visible as soon as the
gate was passed, and this path ran in a northerly direction,
and led to Calvary. The high road from which it deviates
divided shortly after into three branches, one to the
southwest, which led to Bethlehem, through the vale
of Gihon;
Jesus was on the point of again falling, but Simon, who was behind, perceiving that he could not stand, hastened to support him; he leant upon Simon, and was thus saved from falling to the ground. When the women and children of whom we have spoken above, saw the deplorable condition to which our Lord was reduced, they uttered loud cries, wept, and, according to the Jewish custom, presented him cloths to wipe his face. Jesus turned towards them and said: ‘Daughters of Jerusalem, weep not over me, but weep for yourselves and for your children. For behold the days shall come wherein they will say, Blessed are the barren, and the wombs that have not borne, and the paps that have not given suck. Then shall they begin to say to the mountains, Fall upon us, and to the hills, Cover us. For if in the green wood they do these things, what shall be done in the dry?’ He then addressed a few words of consolation to them, which I do not exactly remember.
The procession made a momentary halt. The executioners, who set off first, had reached Calvary with the instruments for the execution, and were followed by a hundred of the Roman soldiers who had started with Pilate; he only accompanied the procession as far as the gateway, and returned to the town.
THE procession again moved on; the road was very steep and rough between the walls of the town and Calvary, and Jesus had the greatest difficulty in walking with his heavy burden on his shoulders; but his cruel enemies, far from feeling the slightest compassion, or giving the least assistance, continued to urge him on by the infliction of hard blows, and the utterance of dreadful curses. At last they reached a. spot where the pathway turned suddenly to the south; here he stumbled and fell for the sixth time. The fall was a dreadful one, but the guards only struck him the harder to force him to get up, and no sooner did he reach Calvary than he sank down again for the seventh time.
Simon of Cyrene was filled with indignation and pity; notwithstanding his fatigue, he wished to remain that he might assist Jesus, but the archers first reviled, and then drove him away, and he soon after joined the body of disciples. The executioners then ordered the workmen and the boys who had carried the instruments for the execution to depart, and the Pharisees soon arrived, for they were on horseback, and had taken the smooth and easy road which ran to the east of Calvary. There was a fine view of the whole town of Jerusalem from the top of Calvary. This top was circular, and about the size of an ordinary riding-school, surrounded by a low wall, and with five separate entrances. This appeared to be the usual number in those parts, for there were five roads at the baths, at the place where they baptised, at the pool of Bethsaida, and there were likewise many towns with five gates. In this, as in many other peculiarities of the Holy Land, there was a deep prophetic signification; that number five, which so often occurred, was a type of those five sacred wounds of our Blessed Saviour, which were to open to us the gates of Heaven.
The horsemen stopped on the west side of the mount,
It wanted about a quarter to twelve when Jesus, loaded
with his cross, sank down at the precise spot where
he was to be crucified. The barbarous executioners dragged
him up by the cords which they had fastened round his
waist, and then untied the arms of the cross, and threw
them on the ground. The sight of our Blessed Lord at
this moment was, indeed, calculated to move the hardest
heart to compassion; he stood or rather bent over the
cross, being scarcely able to support himself; his heavenly
countenance was pale and wan as that of a person on
the verge of death, although wounds and blood disfigured
it to a frightful degree; but the hearts of these cruel
men were, alas! harder than iron itself, and far from
showing the slightest commiseration, they threw him
brutally down, exclaiming in a jeering tone, ‘Most powerful
king, we are about to prepare thy throne.’ Jesus immediately
placed himself upon the cross, and they measured him
and marked the places for his feet and hands, whilst
the Pharisees continued to insult their unresisting
Victim. When the measurement was finished, they led
him to a cave cut in the rock, which had been used formerly
as a cellar, opened the door, and pushed him in so roughly
that had it not been for the support of angels, his
legs must have been broken by so hard a fall on the
rough stone floor. I most distinctly heard his groans
of pain, but they closed the door quickly, and placed
guards before it, and the archers continued their preparations
for the crucifixion. The
ALTHOUGH the Blessed Virgin was carried away fainting
after the sad meeting with her Son loaded with his cross,
yet she soon recovered consciousness; for love, and
the ardent desire of seeing him once more, imparted
to her a supernatural feeling of strength. Accompanied
by her companions she went to the house of Lazarus,
which was at the bottom of the town, and where Martha,
Magdalen, and many holy women were already assembled.
All were sad and depressed, but Magdalen could not restrain
her tears and lamentations. They started from this
When these holy women reached the house of Veronica
they entered it, because Pilate and his officers were
at that moment passing through the street, on their
way home. They burst forth into unrestrained tears when
they beheld the countenance of Jesus imprinted on the
veil, and they returned thanks to God for the favour
he had bestowed on his faithful servant. They took the
jar of aromatic wine which the Jews had prevented Jesus
from drinking, and set off together towards Golgotha.
Their number was considerably increased, for many pious
men and women whom the sufferings of our Lord had filled
with pity had joined them, and they ascended the west
side of Calvary, as the declivity there was not so great.
The Mother of Jesus, accompanied by her niece, Mary
(the daughter of Cleophas), John, and Salome went quite
up to the round platform; but Martha, Mary of Heli,
Veronica, Johanna, Chusa, Susanna, and Mary, the mother
of Mark, remained below with Magdalen, who could hardly
support herself. Lower down on the mountain there was
a third group of holy women, and there were a few scattered
individuals between the three groups, who carried messages
from one to the other. The Pharisees on horseback rode
to and fro among the people, and the five entrances
were guarded by Roman soldiers. Mary kept her eyes fixed
on the fatal spot, and stood as if entranced,—if
A little hail had been falling at times during the morning, but the sun came out again after ten o’clock, and a thick red fog began to obscure it towards twelve.
THE preparations for the crucifixion being finished four archers went to the cave where they had confined our Lord and dragged him out with their usual brutality, while the mob looked on and made use of insulting language, and the Roman soldiers regarded all with indifference, and thought of nothing but maintaining order. When Jesus was again brought forth, the holy women gave a man some money, and begged him to pay the archers anything they might demand if they would allow Jesus to drink the wine which Veronica had prepared; but the cruel executioners, instead of giving it to Jesus, drank it themselves. They had brought two vases with them, one of which contained vinegar and gall, and the other a mixture which looked like wine mixed with myrrh and absinthe; they offered a glass of the latter to our Lord, which he tasted, but would not drink.
There were eighteen archers on the platform; the
six who had scourged Jesus, the four who had conducted
him to Calvary, the two who held the ropes which supported
This scene was rendered the more frightful to me by the sight of demons, who were invisible to others, and I Saw large bodies of evil spirits under the forms of toads, serpents, sharp-clawed dragons, and venomous insects, urging these wicked men to still greater cruelty, and perfectly darkening the air. They crept into the mouths and into the hearts of the assistants, sat upon their shoulders, filled their minds with wicked images, and incited them to revile and insult our Lord with still greater brutality. Weeping angels, however, stood around Jesus, and the sight of their tears consoled me not a little, and they were accompanied by little angels of glory, whose heads alone I saw. There were likewise angels of pity and angels of consolation among them; the latter frequently approached the Blessed Virgin and the rest of the pious persons who were assembled there, and whispered words of comfort which enabled them to bear up with firmness.
The executioners soon pulled off our Lord’s cloak,
the belt to which the ropes were fastened, and his own
belt, when they found it was impossible to drag the
woollen garment which his Mother had woven for him over
his head, on account of the crown of thorns; they tore
off this most painful crown, thus reopening every wound,
and seizing the garment, tore it mercilessly over his
bleeding and wounded head. Our dear Lord and Saviour
then stood before his cruel enemies, stripped of all
save the short scapular which was on his shoulders,
and the linen which girded his loins. His scapular was
of wool; the wool had stuck to the wounds, and indescribable
was the agony of pain he suffered when they pulled it
roughly off. He Shook like the aspen as he stood before
them, for he
The executioners had fastened a piece of wood at
the lower part of the cross under where the feet of
Jesus would be nailed, that thus the weight of his body
might not rest upon the wounds of his hands, as also
to prevent the bones of his feet from being broken when
nailed to the cross. A hole had been pierced in this
wood to receive the nail when driven through his feet,
and there was likewise a little hollow place for his
heels. These precautions were taken lest his wounds
should be torn open by the weight of his body, and death
ensue before he had suffered all the tortures which
they hoped to see him endure. The whole body of our
Lord had been dragged upward, and contracted by the
violent manner with which the executioners had stretched
out his arms, and his knees were bent up; they therefore
flattened and tied them down tightly with cords; but
soon perceiving that his feet did not reach the bit
of wood which was placed for them to rest upon, they
became infuriated. Some of their number proposed making
fresh holes for the nails which pierced his hands, as
there would be considerable difficulty in removing the
bit of wood, but the others would do nothing of the
sort, and continued to vociferate, ‘He will not stretch
himself out, but we will help him;’ they accompanied
these words with the most fearful oaths and imprecations,
and having fastened a rope to his right leg,
When the crucifixion of Jesus was finished, the commander of the Roman soldiers ordered Pilate’s inscription to be nailed on the top of the cross. The Pharisees were much incensed at this, and their anger was increased by the jeers of the Roman soldiers, who pointed at their crucified king; they therefore hastened back to Jerusalem, determined to use their best endeavours to persuade the governor to allow them to substitute another inscription.
It was about a quarter past twelve when Jesus was crucified; and at the moment the cross was lifted up, the Temple resounded with the blast of trumpets, which were always blown to announce the sacrifice of the Paschal Lamb.
WHEN the executioners had finished the crucifixion of our Lord, they tied ropes to the trunk of the cross, and fastened the ends of these ropes round a long beam which was fixed firmly in the ground at a little distance, and by means of these ropes they raised the cross. Some of their number supported it while others shoved its foot towards the hole prepared for its reception—the heavy cross fell into this hole with a frightful shock—Jesus uttered a faint cry, and his wounds were torn open in the most fearful manner, his blood again burst forth, and his half dislocated bones knocked one against the other. The archers pushed the cross to get it thoroughly into the hole, and caused it to vibrate still more by planting five stakes around to support it.
A terrible, but at the same time a touching sight
it was to behold the cross raised up in the midst of
the vast concourse of persons who were assembled all
around; not only insulting soldiers, proud Pharisees,
and the brutal Jewish mob were there, but likewise strangers
from all parts. The air resounded with acclamations
and derisive cries when they beheld it towering on high,
and after vibrating for a moment in the air, fall with
a heavy crash into the hole cut for it in the rock.
But words of love and compassion resounded through the
air at the same moment; and need we say that these words,
these sounds, were emitted by the most saintly of human
beings—Mary—John—the holy women, and all who were
pure of heart? They bowed down and adored the ‘Word
made flesh,’ nailed to the cross; they stretched forth
their hands as if desirous of giving assistance to the
Holy of Holies, whom they beheld nailed to a cross and
in the power of his furious enemies. But when the solemn
sound of the fall of the cross into the hole prepared
for it in the rock was heard, a dead silence ensued,
every heart was filled with an undefinable feeling of
awe—a feeling never before experienced, and for
The eminence on which the cross was planted was about two feet higher than the surrounding parts; the feet of Jesus were sufficiently near the ground for his friends to be able to reach to kiss them, and his face was turned to the north-west.
DURING the time of the crucifixion of Jesus, the
two thieves were left lying on the ground at some distance
off; their arms were fastened to the crosses on which
they were to be executed, and a few soldiers stood near
on guard. The accusation which had been proved against
them was that of having assassinated a Jewish woman
who, with her children, was travelling from Jerusalem
to Joppa. They were arrested, under the disguise of
rich merchants, at a castle in which Pilate resided
occasionally, when employed in exercising his troops,
and they had been imprisoned for a long time before
being brought to trial. The thief placed on the left-hand
side was much older than the other; a regular miscreant,
who had corrupted the younger. They were commonly called
Dismas and Gesmas, and as I forget their real names
I shall distinguish them by these terms,
The executioners had divided the garments of Jesus,
in order to draw lots for them; his mantle, which was
narrow at the top, was very wide at the bottom, and
lined over the chest, thus forming a pocket between
the lining and the material itself; the lining they
pulled out, tore into bands, and divided. They did the
same with his
THE tremendous concussion caused by the fall of the
cross into the hole prepared for it drove the sharp
points of the crown of thorns, which was still upon
the head of our dear Saviour, still deeper into his
sacred flesh, and blood ran down again in streams, both
from it and from his hands and feet. The archers then
placed ladders against the sides of the cross, mounted
them and unfastened the ropes with which they had bound
our Lord to the cross, previous to lifting it up, fearing
that the shock might tear open the wounds in his hands
and feet, and that then the nails would no longer support
his body. His blood had become, in a certain degree,
stagnated by his horizontal position and the pressure
of the cords, but when these wore withdrawn, it resumed
its usual course, and caused such agonising sensations
throughout his countless wounds, that he bowed his head,
and remained as if dead for more than seven minutes.
A pause ensued; the executioners were occupied with
the division of his garments; the trumpets in the temple
no longer resounded; and all the actors in this fearful
tragedy appeared to be exhausted, some by grief, and
others by the efforts they had made to compass their
wicked ends, and
The complexion of our Lord was fair, like that of
Mary, and slightly tinted with red; but his exposure
to the weather during the last three years had tanned
him considerably. His chest was wide, but not hairy
like that of St. John Baptist; his shoulders broad,
and his arms and thighs sinewy; his knees were strong
and
The crosses of the two thieves were placed, the one to the right and the other to the left of Jesus; there was sufficient space left for a horseman to ride between them. Nothing can be imagined more distressing than the appearance of the thieves on their crosses; they suffered terribly, and the one on the left-hand side never ceased cursing and swearing. The cords with which they were tied were very tight, and caused great pain; their countenances were livid, and their eyes inflamed and ready to start from the sockets. The height of the crosses of the two thieves was much less than that of our Lord.
As soon as the executioners had crucified the two
thieves and divided the garments of Jesus between them,
they gathered up their tools, addressed a few more insulting
words to our Lord, and went away. The Pharisees, likewise,
rode up to Jesus, looked at him scornfully, made use
of some opprobrious expressions, and then left the place.
The Roman soldiers, of whom a hundred had
The countenance and whole body of Jesus became even
more colourless: he appeared to be on the point of fainting,
and Gesmas (the wicked thief) exclaimed, ‘The demon
by whom he is possessed is about to leave him.’ A soldier
then took a sponge, filled it with vinegar, put it on
a reed, and presented it to Jesus, who appeared to drink.
If thou art the King of the Jews,’ said the soldier,
‘save thyself, coming down from the Cross.’ These
things took place during the time that the first band
of soldiers was being relieved by that of Abenadar.
Jesus raised his head a little, and said, ‘Father,
forgive them, for they know not what they do.’ And
Gesmas cried out, ‘If thou art the Christ, save thyself
and us.’ Dismas (the good thief) was silent, but he
was deeply moved at the prayer of Jesus for his enemies.
When Mary heard the voice of her Son, unable to restrain
herself, she rushed forward, followed by John, Salome,
and Mary of Cleophas, and approached the Cross, which
the kind-hearted centurion
The Blessed Virgin was much comforted and strengthened by the prayer of Jesus, and Dismas said to Gesmas, who was still blaspheming Jesus, ‘Neither dost thou fear God, seeing thou art under the same condemnation. And we indeed justly, for we receive the due reward of our deeds; but this man hath done no evil. Remember thou art now at the point of death, and repent.’ He was enlightened and touched: he confessed his sins to Jesus, and said: ‘Lord, if thou condemnest me it will be with justice.’ And Jesus replied, ‘Thou shalt experience my mercy.’ Dismas, filled with the most perfect contrition, began instantly to thank God for the great graces he had received, and to reflect over the manifold sins of his past life. All these events took place between twelve and the half-hour shortly after the crucifixion; but such a surprising change ad taken place in the appearance of nature during that time as to astonish the beholders and fill their minds with awe and terror.
A LITTLE hail had fallen at about ten o’clock,—when
Pilate was passing sentence,—and after that the weather
cleared up, until towards twelve, when the thick red-looking
fog began to obscure the sun. Towards the sixth
I do not know whether Jesus really pronounced these words, but I felt interiorly that he gave Mary to John as a mother, and John to Mary as a son. In similar visions a person is often conscious of things which are not written, and words can only express a portion of them, although to the individual to whom they are shown they are so clear as not to require explanation. For this reason it did not appear to me in the least surprising that Jesus should call the Blessed Virgin ‘Woman,’ instead of ‘Mother.’ I felt that he intended to demonstrate that she was that woman spoken of in Scripture who was to crush the head of the serpent, and that then was the moment in which that promise was accomplished in the death of her Son. I knew that Jesus, by giving her as a mother to John, gave her also as a mother to all who believe in him, who become children of God, and are not born of flesh and blood, or of the will of man, but of God. Neither did it appear to me surprising that the most pure, the most humble, and the most obedient among women, who, when saluted by the angel as ‘full of grace,’ immediately replied, ‘Behold the handmaid of the Lord, be it done to me according to thy word,’ and in whose sacred womb the Word was instantly made flesh,—that she, when informed by her dying Son that she was to become the spiritual mother of another son, should repeat the same words with humble obedience, and immediately adopt as her children all the children of God, the brothers of Jesus Christ. These things are much easier to feel by the grace of God than to be expressed in words. I remember my celestial Spouse once saying to me, ‘Everything is imprinted in the hearts of those children of the Church who believe, hope, and love.’
IT was about half-past one o’clock when I was taken
into Jerusalem to see what was going on there. The inhabitants
were perfectly overcome with terror and anxiety; the
streets dark and gloomy, and some persons were feeling
their way about, while others, seated on the ground
with their heads veiled, struck their breasts, or went
up to the roofs of their houses, looked at the sky,
and burst forth in bitter lamentations. Even the animals
uttered mournful cries, and hid themselves; the birds
flew low, and fell to the ground. I saw Pilate conferring
with Herod on the alarming state of things: they were
both extremely agitated, and contemplated the appearance
of the sky from that terrace upon which Herod was standing
when he delivered up Jesus to be insulted by the infuriated
rabble. ‘These events are not in the common course of
nature,’ they both exclaimed: ‘they must be caused by
the anger of the gods, who are displeased at the cruelty
which has been exercised towards Jesus of Nazareth.’
Pilate and Herod, surrounded by guards, then directed
their hasty trembling steps through the forum to Herod’s
palace. Pilate turned away his head when he passed Gabbatha,
from whence he had condemned Jesus to be crucified.
The square was almost empty; a few persons might be
seen reëntering their houses as quickly as possible,
and a few others running about and weeping, while two
or three small groups might be distinguished in the
distance. Pilate sent for some of the Ancients and asked
them what they thought the astounding darkness could
possibly portend, and said that he himself considered
it a terrific proof of the anger of their God at the
crucifixion of the Galilæan, who was most certainly
their prophet and their king: he added that he had nothing
to reproach himself with on that head, for he had washed
his hands of the whole affair, and was, therefore, quite
The rabble assembled before Pilate’s house, and instead of the cry of ‘Crucify him, crucify him!’ which had resounded in the morning, you might have heard vociferations of ‘Down with the iniquitous judge!’ ‘May the blood of the just man fall upon his murderers!’ Pilate was much alarmed; he sent for additional guards, and endeavoured to cast all the blame upon the Jews. He again declared that the crime was not his; that he was no subject of this Jesus, whom they had put to death unjustly, and who was their king, their prophet, their Holy One; that they alone were guilty, as it must be evident to all that he condemned Jesus solely from compulsion.
The Temple was thronged with Jews, who were intent on the immolation of the Paschal lamb; but when the darkness increased to such a degree that it was impossible to distinguish the countenance of one from that of the other, they were seized with fear, horror, and dread, which they expressed by mournful cries and lamentations. The High Priests endeavoured to maintain order and quiet. All the lamps were lighted; but the confusion became greater every moment, and Annas appeared perfectly paralysed with terror. I saw him endeavouring to hide first in one place, and then in another. When I left the Temple, and walked through the streets, I remarked that, although not a breath of wind was stirring, yet both the doors and windows of the houses were shaking as if in a storm, and the darkness was becoming every moment more dense.
The consternation produced by the sudden darkness
at Mount Calvary was indescribable. When it first commenced,
Stillness reigned around the Cross. Jesus hung upon
it alone; forsaken by all,—disciples, followers, friends,
his Mother even was removed from his side; not one person
of the thousands upon whom he had lavished benefits
was near to offer him the slightest alleviation in his
bitter agony,—his soul was overspread with an indescribable
feeling of bitterness and grief,—all within him was
dark, gloomy, and wretched. The darkness which reigned
around
His sufferings were inexpressible; but it was by
them that he merited for us the grace necessary to resist
those temptations to despair which will assail us at
the hour of death,—that tremendous hour when we shall
feel that we are about to leave all that is dear to
us here below. When our minds, weakened by disease,
have lost the power of reasoning, and even our hopes
of mercy and forgiveness are become, as it were, enveloped
in mist and uncertainty,—then it is that we must fly
to Jesus, unite our feelings of desolation with that
indescribable dereliction which he endured upon the
Cross, and be certain of obtaining, a glorious victory
over our infernal enemies. Jesus then offered to his
Eternal Father his poverty, his dereliction, his labours,
and, above all, the bitter sufferings which our ingratitude
had caused him to endure in expiation for our sins and
weaknesses; no one, therefore, who is united to Jesus
in the bosom of his Church must despair at the awful
moment preceding his exit from this life, even if he
be deprived of all sensible light and comfort; for he
must then remember that the Christian is no longer obliged
to enter this dark desert alone and unprotected,’ as
Jesus has cast his own interior and exterior dereliction
on the Cross into this gulf of desolation, consequently
he will not
Shortly after three o’clock the light reappeared in a degree, the moon began to pass away from the disc of the sun, while the sun again shone forth, although its appearance was dim, being surrounded by a species of red mist; by degrees it became more bright, and the stars vanished, but the sky was still gloomy. The enemies of Jesus soon recovered their arrogant spirit when they saw the light returning; and it was then that they exclaimed, ‘Behold, he calleth Elias.’
THE light continued to return by degrees, and the
livid exhausted countenance of our Lord again became
Jesus was almost fainting; his tongue was parched., and he said: ‘I thirst.’ The disciples who were standing round the Cross looked at him with the deepest expression of sorrow, and he added, ‘Could you not have given me a little water?’ By these words he gave them to understand that no one would have prevented them from doing so during the darkness. John was filled with remorse, and replied: ‘We did not think of doing so, O Lord.’ Jesus pronounced a few more words, the import of which was: ‘My friends and my neighbours were also to forget me, and not give me to drink, that so what was written concerning me might be fulfilled.’ This omission had afflicted him very much. The disciples then offered money to the soldiers to obtain permission to give him a little water: they refused to give it, but dipped a sponge in vinegar and gall, and were about to offer it to Jesus, when the centurion Abenadar, whose heart was touched with compassion, took it from them, squeezed out the gall, poured some fresh vinegar upon it, and fastening it to a reed, put the reed at the end of a lance, and presented it for Jesus to drink. I heard our Lord say several other things, but I only remember these words: ‘When my voice shall be silent, the mouths of the dead shall be opened.’ Some of the bystanders cried out: ‘He blasphemeth again.’ But Abenadar compelled them to be silent.
The hour of our Lord was—at last come, his death-struggle
had commenced; a cold sweat overspread every limb. John
stood at the foot of the Cross, and wiped the feet of
Jesus with his scapular. Magdalen was crouched
Abenadar became from this moment a new man; he adored
the true God, and would no longer serve his enemies.
He gave both his horse and his lance to a subaltern
of the name of Longinus, who, having addressed a few
words to the soldiers, mounted his horse, and took the
command upon himself. Abenadar then left Calvary,
When Jesus, the Lord of life and death, gave up his soul into the hands of his Father, and allowed death to take possession of his body, this sacred body trembled and turned lividly white; the countless wounds which were covered with congealed blood appeared like dark marks; his cheeks became more sunken, his nose more pointed, and his eyes, which were obscured with blood, remained but half open. He raised his weary head, which was still crowned with thorns, for a moment, and then dropped it again in agony of pain; while his parched and torn lips, only partially closed, showed his bloody and swollen tongue. At the moment of death his hands, which were at one time contracted round the nails, opened and returned to their natural size, as did also his arms; his body became stiff, and the whole weight was thrown upon the feet, his knees bent, and his feet twisted a little on one side.
What words can, alas, express the deep grief of the
Blessed Virgin? Her eyes closed, a death-like tint overspread
her countenance; unable to stand, she fell to the ground,
but was soon lifted up, and supported by John, Magdalen,
and the others. She looked once more upon her beloved
Son—that Son whom she had conceived by the Holy Ghost,
the flesh of her flesh, the bone of her bone, the heart
of her heart—hanging on a cross between two thieves;
crucified, dishonoured, contemned by those
The sun still looked dim and suffused with mist; and during the time of the earthquake the air was close and oppressive, but by degrees it became more clear and fresh.
It was about three o’clock when Jesus expired. The Pharisees were at first much alarmed at the earthquake; but when the first shock was over they recovered themselves, began to throw stones into the chasm, and tried to measure its depth with ropes. Finding, however, that they could not fathom its bottom, they became thoughtful, listened anxiously to the groans of the penitents, who were lamenting and striking their breasts, and then left Calvary. Many among the spectators were really converted, and the greatest part returned to Jerusalem perfectly overcome with fear. Roman soldiers were placed at the gates, and in other principal parts of the city, to prevent the possibility of an insurrection. Cassius remained on Calvary with about fifty soldiers. The friends of Jesus stood round the Cross, contemplated our Lord, and wept; many among the holy women had returned to their homes, and all were silent and overcome with grief.
I SAW the soul of Jesus, at the moment he expired, appear under the form of a bright orb, and accompanied by angels, among whom I distinguished the angel Gabriel penetrate the earth at the foot of the Cross. I likewise saw these angels cast a number of evil spirits into the great abyss, and I heard Jesus order several of the souls in Limbo to reënter the bodies in which they once dwelt, in order that the sight might fill sinners with a salutary terror, and that these souls might render a solemn testimony to his divinity.
The earthquake which produced the deep chasm at
The High Priests had recommenced the sacrifice of
the Paschal lamb (which had been stopped by the unexpected
darkness), and they were triumphing at the return of
light, when suddenly the ground beneath them trembled,
the neighbouring buildings fell down, and the veil of
the Temple was rent in two from the top to the bottom.
Excess of terror at first rendered those on the outside
speechless, but after a time they burst forth into cries
and lamentations. The confusion in the interior of the
Temple was not, however, as great as would naturally
have been expected, because the strictest order and
decorum were always enforced there, particularly with
regard to the regulations to be followed by those who
entered to make their sacrifice, and those who left
after having offered it. The crowd was great, but the
ceremonies were so solemnly carried out by the priests,
that they totally engrossed the minds of the assistants.
First came the immolation of the lamb, then the sprinkling
of its blood, accompanied by the chanting of canticles
and the sounding of trumpets. The priests were endeavouring
to continue the sacrifices, when suddenly an unexpected
and most appalling pause ensued; terror and astonishment
were depicted on each countenance; all was thrown into
confusion; not a sound was heard; the sacrifices ceased;
there was a general rush to the gates of the Temple;
every one endeavoured to fly as quickly as possible.
And well might they fly, well might they fear and tremble;
for in the midst of the multitude there suddenly appeared
persons who had been dead
The appearance of the Temple at this moment can only be described by comparing it to an ant-hill on which persons have thrown stones, or which has been disturbed by a stick being driven into its centre. The ants in those parts on which the stones have fallen, or which the stick has disturbed, are filled with confusion and terror; they run to and fro and do nothing; while the ants in those parts which have not been disturbed continue to labour quietly, and even begin to repair the damaged parts.
The High Priest Caiphas and his retinue did not lose their presence of mind, and by the outward tranquillity which their diabolical hardness of heart enabled them to preserve, they calmed the confusion in a great degree, and then did their utmost to prevent the people from looking upon these stupendous events as testimonies of the innocence of Jesus. The Roman garrison belonging to the fortress of Antonia likewise made great efforts to maintain order; consequently, the disturbance of the festival was not followed by an insurrection, although every heart was fixed with fear and anxiety, which anxiety the Pharisees endeavoured (and in some instances with success) to calm.
I remember a few other striking incidents: in the
first place, the two columns which were placed at the
entrance of their Holy of Holies, and to which a magnificent
curtain was appended, were shaken to the very foundations;
the column on the left side fell down in a
An apparition of the High Priest Zacharias, who was
slain between the porch and the altar, was seen in the
sanctuary. He uttered fearful menaces, spoke of the
death of the second Zacharias,
Whilst these things wore going on in the Temple, the confusion and panic were not less in Jerusalem. Dead persons were walking about, and many walls and buildings had been shaken by the earthquake, and parts of them fallen down. The superstition of Pilate rendered him even more accessible to fear; he was perfectly paralysed and speechless with terror; his palace was shaken to the very foundation, and the earth quaked beneath his feet. He ran wildly from room to room, and the dead constantly stood before him, reproaching him with the unjust sentence he had passed upon Jesus. He thought that they were the gods of the Galilæan, and took refuge in an inner room, where he offered incense, and made vows to his idols to invoke their assistance in his distress. Herod was equally alarmed; but he shut himself up in his palace, out of the sight of every one.
More than a hundred persons who had died at different
epochs reëntered the bodies they had occupied when
on earth, made their appearance in different parts of
Jerusalem, and filled the inhabitants with inexpressible
consternation. Those souls which had been released by
Jesus from Limbo uncovered their faces and wandered to and
SCARCELY had the commotion which the town had been thrown into begun to subside in a degree, when the Jews belonging to the Council sent to Pilate to request that the legs of the criminals might be broken, in order to put an end to their lives before the Sabbath-day dawned. Pilate immediately dispatched executioners to Calvary to carry out their wishes.
Joseph of Arimathea then demanded an audience; he
had heard of the death of Jesus, and he and Nicodemus
had determined to bury him in a new sepulchre which
he had made at the end of his garden, not far from Calvary.
When Joseph of Arimathea left Pilate’s palace, he instantly rejoined Nicodemus, who was waiting for him at the house of a pious woman, which stood opposite to a large street, and was not far from that alley where Jesus was so shamefully ill-treated when he first commenced carrying his Cross. The woman was a vendor of aromatic herbs, and Nicodemus had purchased many perfumes which were necessary for embalming the body of Jesus from her. She procured the more precious kinds from other places, and Joseph went away to procure a fine winding-sheet. His servants then fetched ladders, hammers, pegs, jars of water, and sponges, from a neighbouring shed, and placed them in a hand-barrow similar to that on which the disciples of John the Baptist put his body when they carried it off from the castle of Macherus.
WHILST these events were taking place in Jerusalem,
silence reigned around Calvary. The crowd which had
been for a time so noisy and tumultuous was dispersed;
all were panic-stricken; in some that panic had produced
sincere repentance, but on others it had had no beneficial
effects. Mary, John, Magdalen, Mary of Cleophas, and
Salome had remained, either standing or sitting before
the Cross, closely veiled and weeping silently. A few
soldiers were leaning over the terrace which enclosed
the platform; Cassius rode up and down; the sky was
lowering, and all nature wore a garb of mourning. Six
archers soon after made their appearance, bringing with
them ladders, spades, ropes, and large iron staves for
the purpose of breaking the legs of the criminals, in
order to hasten their deaths. When they approached our
Lord’s Cross, his friends retired a few paces back,
and the Blessed Virgin was seized with fear lest they
should indulge their hatred of Jesus by insulting even
his dead body. Her fears were not quite unfounded, for
when they first placed their ladders against the Cross
they declared that he was only pretending to be dead;
in a few moments, however, seeing that he was cold and
stiff, they left him, and removed their ladders to the
crosses on which the two thieves were still hanging
alive. They took up their iron staves and broke the
arms of the thieves above and below the elbow; while
another archer at the same moment broke their legs,
both above and below the knee. Gesmas uttered frightful
cries, therefore the executioner finished him off by
three heavy blows of a cudgel on his chest. Dismas gave
a deep groan, and expired:
The archers still appeared doubtful whether Jesus was really dead, and the brutality they had shown in breaking the legs of the thieves made the holy. women tremble as to what outrage they might next perpetrate on the body of our Lord. But Cassius, the subaltern officer, a young man of about five-and-twenty, whose weak squinting eyes and nervous manner had often excited the derision of his companions, was suddenly illuminated by grace, and being quite overcome at the sight of the cruel conduct of the soldiers, and the deep sorrow of the holy women, determined to relieve their anxiety by proving beyond dispute that Jesus was really dead. The kindness of his heart prompted him, but unconsciously to himself he fulfilled a prophecy. He seized his lance and rode quickly up to the mound on which the Cross was planted, stopped just between the cross of the good thief and that of our Lord, and taking his lance in both hands, thrust it so completely into the right side of Jesus that the point went through the heart, and appeared on the left side. When Cassius drew his lance out of the wound a quantity of blood and water rushed from it, and flowed over his face and body. This species of washing produced effects somewhat similar to the vivifying waters of Baptism: grace and salvation at once entered his soul. He leaped from his horse, threw himself upon his knees, struck his breast, and confessed loudly before all his firm belief in the divinity of Jesus.
The Blessed Virgin and her companions were still
standing near, with their eyes fixed upon the Cross,
but when Cassius thrust his lance into the side of Jesus
they were much startled, and rushed with one accord
up to it. Mary looked as if the lance had transfixed
her heart instead of that of her Divine Son, and could
scarcely support herself. Cassius meantime remained
kneeling and
Cassius, whose sight was perfectly restored at the same moment that the eyes of his soul were opened, was deeply moved, and continued his humble prayer of thanksgiving. The soldiers were struck with astonishment at the miracle which had taken place, and cast themselves on their knees by his side, at the same time striking their breasts and confessing Jesus. The water and blood continued to flow from the large wound in the side of our Lord; it ran into the hollow in the rock, and the holy women put it in vases, while Mary and Magdalen mingled their tears. The archers, who had received a message from Pilate, ordering them not to touch the body of Jesus, did not return at all.
All these events took place near the Cross, at a
little before four o’clock, during the time that Joseph
of Arimathea and Nicodemus were gathering together the
articles necessary for the burial of Jesus. But the
servants of Joseph having been sent to clean out the
tomb, informed the friends of our Lord that their master
intended to take the body of Jesus and place it in his
new sepulchre. John
THIS chapter will contain some descriptions of places given by Sister Emmerich on various occasions. They will be followed by a description of the tomb and garden of Joseph of Arimathea, that so we may have no need to interrupt the account of the burial of our Lord.
The first gate which stood. on the eastern side of
Jerusalem, to the south of the south-east angle of the
Temple, was the one leading to the suburb of Ophel.
The gate of the sheep was to the north of the north-east
angle of the Temple. Between these two gates there was
a third, leading to some streets situated to the east
of the Temple, and inhabited for the most part by stonemasons
and other workmen. The houses in these streets were
supported by the foundations of the Temple; and almost
all belonged to Nicodemus, who had caused them to be
built, and who employed nearly all the workmen living
there. Nicodemus had not long before built a beautiful
gate as an entrance to these streets, called the Gate
of Moriah. It was but just finished, and through it
Jesus had entered the town on Palm Sunday. Thus he entered
by the new gate of Nicodemus, through which no one had
yet passed, and was buried in the new monument of Joseph
of Arimathea, in which no one had yet been laid. This
gate was afterwards walled up, and there was a
The road leading to the west from the gate of the
sheep passed almost exactly between the north-western
side of Mount Sion and Calvary. From this gate to Golgotha
the distance was about two miles and a quarter; and
from Pilate’s palace to Golgotha about two miles. The
fortress Antonia was situated to the north-west of the
mountain of the Temple, on a detached rock. A person
going towards the west, on leaving Pilate’s palace,
would have had this fortress to his left. On one of
its walls there was a platform commanding the forum,
and from which Pilate was accustomed to make proclamations
to the people: he did this, for instance, when he promulgated
new laws. When our Divine Lord was carrying his Cross,
in the interior of the town, Mount Calvary was frequently
on his right hand. This road, which partly ran in a
south-westerly direction, led to a gate made in an inner
wall of the town, towards Sion. Beyond this wall, to
the left, there was a sort of suburb, containing more
gardens than houses; and towards the outer wall of the
city stood some magnificent sepulchres with stone entrances.
On this side was a house belonging to Lazarus, with
beautiful gardens, extending towards that part where
the outer western wall of Jerusalem turned to the south.
I believe that a little private door, made in the city
wall, and through which Jesus and his disciples often
passed by permission of Lazarus, led to these gardens.
The gate standing at the north-western angle of the
town led to Bethsur, which was situated more towards
the north than Emmaus and Joppa. The western part of
Jerusalem was lower than any other: the land on which
it was built first sloped in the direction of the surrounding
wall, and then rose again when close to it; and on this
declivity there stood gardens and vineyards, behind
which wound a wide road, with paths leading to the walls
and towers. On the other side, without the
The garden of Joseph of Arimathea
AT the time when every one had left the neighbourhood of the Cross, and a few guards alone stood around it, I saw five persons, who I think were disciples, and who had come by the valley from Bethania, draw nigh to Calvary, gaze for a few moments upon the Cross, and then steal away. Three times I met in the vicinity two men who were making examinations and anxiously consulting together. These men were Joseph of Arimathea and Nicodemus. The first time was during the Crucifixion (perhaps when they caused the clothes of Jesus to be brought back from the soldiers), and they were then at no great distance from Calvary. The second was when, after standing to look whether the crowd was dispersing, they went to the tomb to make some preparations. The third was on their return from the tomb to the Cross, when they were looking around in every direction, as if waiting for a favourable moment, and then concerted together as to the manner in which they should take the body of our Lord down from the Cross, after which they returned to the town.
Their next care was to make arrangements for carrying
with them the necessary articles for embalming the body,
and their servants took some tools with which to detach
it from the Cross, as well as two ladders which they
found in a barn close to Nicodemus’s house. Each of
these ladders consisted of a single pole, crossed at
regular intervals by pieces of wood, which formed the
steps. There were hooks which could be fastened on any
part of the pole, and by means of which the ladder could
be steadied
The woman from whom they had bought their spices had packed the whole neatly together. Nicodemus had bought a hundred pounds’ weight of roots, which quantity is equal to about thirty-seven pounds of our measure, as has been explained to me. They carried these spices in little barrels make of bark, which were hung round their necks, and rested on their breasts. One of these barrels contained some sort of powder. They had also some bundles of herbs in bags made of parchment or leather, and Joseph carried a box of ointment; but I do not know what this box was made of. The servants were to carry vases, leathern bottles, sponges, and tools, on a species of litter, and they likewise took fire with them in a closed lantern. They left the town before their master, and by a different gate (perhaps that of Bethania), and then turned their steps towards Mount Calvary. As they walked through the town they passed by the house where the Blessed Virgin, St. John, and the holy women had gone to seek different things required for embalming the body of Jesus, and John and the holy women followed the servants at a certain distance. The women were about five in number, and some of them carried large bundles of linen under their mantles. It was the custom for women, when they went out in the evening, or if intending to perform some work of piety secretly, to wrap their persons carefully in a long sheet at least a yard wide. They began by one arm, and then wound the linen so closely round their body that they could not walk without difficulty. I have seen them wrapped up in this manner, and the sheet not only extended to both arms, but likewise veiled the head. On the present occasion, the appearance of this dress was most striking in my eyes, for it was a real mourning garment. Joseph and Nicodemus were also in mourning attire, and wore black sleeves and wide sashes. Their cloaks, which they had drawn over their heads, were both wide and long, of a common gray colour, and served to conceal everything that they were carrying.
They turned their steps in the direction of the gate leading to Mount Calvary. The streets were deserted and quiet, for terror kept every one at home. The greatest number were beginning to repent, and but few were keeping the festival. When Joseph and Nicodemus reached the gate they found it closed, and the road, streets, and every corner lined with soldiers. These were the soldiers whom the Pharisees had asked for at about two o’clock, and whom they had kept under arms and on guard, as they still feared a tumult among the people. Joseph showed an order, signed by Pilate, to let them pass freely, and the soldiers were most willing that they should do so, but explained to him that they had endeavoured several times to open the gate, without being able to move it; that apparently the gate had received a shock, and been strained in some part; and that on this account the archers sent to break the legs of the thieves had been obliged to return to the city by another gate. But when Joseph and Nicodemus seized hold of the bolt, the gate opened as if of itself, to the great astonishment of all the bystanders.
It was still dark and the sky cloudy when they reached Mount Calvary, where they found the servants who had been sent on already arrived, and the holy women sitting weeping in front of the Cross. Cassius and several soldiers who were converted remained at a certain distance, and their demeanour was respectful and reserved. Joseph and Nicodemus described to the Blessed Virgin and John all they had done to save Jesus from an ignominious death, and learned from them how they had succeeded in preventing the bones of our Lord from being broken, and how the prophecy had been fulfilled. They spoke also of the wound which Cassius had made with his lance. No sooner was the centurion Abenadar arrived than they began, with the deepest recollection of spirit, their mournful and sacred labour of taking down from the Cross and embalming the adorable body of our Lord.
The Blessed Virgin and Magdalen were seated at the
foot of the Cross; while, on the right-hand side, between
Nicodemus and Joseph placed the ladders behind the
Cross, and mounted them, holding in their hands a large
sheet, to which three long straps were fastened. They
tied the body of Jesus, below the arms and knees, to
the tree of the Cross, and secured the arms by pieces
of linen placed underneath the hands. Then they drew
out the nails, by pushing them from behind with strong
pins pressed upon the points. The sacred hands of Jesus
were thus not much shaken, and the nails fell easily
out of the wounds; for the latter had been made wider
by the weight of the body, which, being now supported
by the cloths, no longer hung on the nails. The lower
part of the body, which since our Lord’s death had sunk
down on the knees, now rested in a natural position,
supported by a sheet fastened above to the arms of the
Cross. Whilst Joseph was taking out the nail from the
left hand, and then allowing the left arm, supported
by its cloth, to fall gently down upon the body, Nicodemus
was fastening the right arm of Jesus to that of the
Cross, as also the sacred crowned head, which had sunk
on the right shoulder. Then he took out the right nail,
and having surrounded the arm with its supporting sheet,
let it fall gently on to the body. At the same time,
the centurion Abenadar, with great difficulty, drew
out the large nail
Then Joseph and Nicodemus, having placed ladders against the front of the Cross, in a very upright position, and close to the body, untied the upper strap, and fastened it to one of the hooks on the ladder; they did the same with the two other straps, and passing them all on from hook to hook, caused the sacred body to descend gently towards the centurion, who having mounted upon a stool received it in his arms, holding it below the knees; while Joseph and Nicodemus, supporting the upper part of the body, came gently down the ladder, stopping at every step, and taking every imaginable precaution, as would be done by men bearing the body of some beloved friend who had been grievously wounded. Thus did the bruised body of our Divine Saviour reach the ground.
It was a most touching sight. They all took the same
precautions, the same care, as if they had feared to
cause Jesus some suffering. They seemed to have concentrated
on the sacred body all the love and veneration which
they had felt for their Saviour during his life. The
eyes of each were fixed upon the adorable body, and
followed all its movements; and they were continually
uplifting their hands towards Heaven, shedding tears,
and expressing in every possible way the excess of their
grief and anguish. Yet they all remained perfectly calm,
and even those who were so busily occupied about the
sacred body broke silence but seldom, and, when obliged
to make some necessary remark, did so in a low voice.
During the time that the nails were being forcibly removed
by blows of the hammer, the Blessed Virgin, Magdalen,
and all those who had been present at the Crucifixion,
felt each blow transfix their hearts. The sound recalled
to their minds all the sufferings of Jesus., and they
could not control their trembling fear, lest they should
again hear his piercing cry of suffering; although,
at the same time, they grieved at the silence of his
blessed lips, which proved, alas too surely, that he
was really dead. When the body was taken down it was
wrapped in linen from the knees to the waist, and then
THE Blessed Virgin seated herself upon a large cloth spread on the ground, with her right knee, which was slightly raised, and her back resting against some mantles, rolled together so as to form a species of cushion. No precaution had been neglected which could in any way facilitate to her—the Mother of Sorrows—in her deep affliction of soul, the mournful but most sacred duty which she was about to fulfil in regard to the body of her beloved Son. The adorable head of Jesus rested upon Mary’s knee, and his body was stretched upon a sheet. The Blessed Virgin was overwhelmed with sorrow and love. Once more, and for the last time, did she hold in her arms the body of her most beloved Son, to whom she had been unable to give any testimony of love during the long hours of his martyrdom. And she gazed upon his wounds and fondly embraced his blood-stained cheeks, whilst Magdalen pressed her face upon his feet.
The men withdrew into a little cave, situated on
the south-west side of Calvary, there to prepare the
different things needful for the embalming; but Cassius,
with a few other soldiers who had been converted, remained
at a respectful distance. All ill-disposed persons were
gone back to the city, and the soldiers who were present
served merely to form a guard to prevent any interruption
in the last honours which were being rendered to the
body of Jesus. Some of these soldiers even gave assistance
when desired. The holy women held the vases, sponges,
linen, unction, and spices, according as required; but
when not thus employed, they remained at a respectful
distance, attentively gazing upon the Blessed Virgin
as she proceeded
The courage and firmness of Mary remained unshaken
even in the midst of her inexpressible anguish.
The divine face of our Saviour was scarcely recognisable,
so disfigured was it by the wounds with which it was
covered. The beard and hair were matted together with
blood. Mary washed the head and face, and passed damp
sponges over the hair to remove the congealed blood.
As she proceeded in her pious office, the extent of
the awful cruelty which had been exercised upon Jesus
became more and more apparent, and caused in her soul
emotions of compassion and tenderness which increased
as she passed from one wound to another. She washed
the wounds of the head, the eyes filled with blood,
the nostrils, and the ears, with a sponge and a small
piece of linen spread over the fingers of her right
hand; and then she purified, in the same manner, the
half-opened mouth, the tongue, the teeth, and the lips.
She divided what remained of our Lord’s hair into three
parts,
The head, bosom, and feet of our Lord were’ now washed, and the sacred body, which was covered with brown stains and red marks in those places where the skin had been torn off, and of a bluish-white colour, like flesh that has been drained of blood, was resting on the knees of Mary, who covered the parts which she had washed with a veil, and then proceeded to embalm all the wounds. The holy women knelt by her side, and in turn presented to her a box, out of which she took some precious ointment, and with it filled and covered the wounds. She also anointed the hair, and then, taking the sacred hands of Jesus in her left hand, respectfully kissed them, and filled the large wounds made by the nails with this ointment or sweet spice. She likewise filled the ears, nostrils, and wound in the side with the same precious mixture. Meanwhile Magdalen wiped and embalmed our Lord’s feet, and then again washed them with her tears, and often pressed her face upon them.
The water which had been used was not thrown away,
but poured into the leathern bottles in which the sponges
The sacred body was carried to a spot beneath the
level of the top of Golgotha, where the smooth surface
of a rock afforded a convenient platform on which to
embalm the body. I first saw a piece of open-worked
linen, looking very much like lace, and which made me
think of the large embroidered curtain hung between
the choir and nave during Lent.
Then John conducted the Blessed Virgin and the other
holy women once more to the side of the body. Mary knelt
down by the head of Jesus, and placed beneath it a piece
of very fine linen which had been given her by Pilate’s
wife, and which she had worn round her neck under her
cloak; next, assisted by the holy women, she placed
from the shoulders to the cheeks bundles of herbs, spices,
and sweet-scented powder, and then strongly bound this
piece of linen round the head and shoulders. Magdalen
poured besides a small bottle of balm into the wound
of the side, and the holy women placed some more herbs
into those of the hands and feet. Then the men put sweet
spices around all the remainder of the body, crossed
the sacred stiffened arms on the chest, and bound the
large white sheet round the body as high as the chest,
in the
The Blessed Virgin, the holy women, the men-all were kneeling round the body of Jesus to take their farewell of it, when a most touching miracle took place before them. The sacred body of Jesus, with all its wounds, appeared imprinted upon the cloth which covered it, as though he had been pleased to reward their care and their love, and leave them a portrait of himself through all the veils with which he was enwrapped. With tears they embraced the adorable body, and then reverently kissed the wonderful impression which it had left. Their astonishment increased when, on lifting up the sheet, they saw that all the bands which surrounded the body had remained white as before, and that the upper cloth alone had been marked in this wonderful manner. It was not a mark made by the bleeding wounds, since the whole body was wrapped up and covered with sweet spices, but it was a supernatural portrait, bearing testimony to the divine creative power ever abiding in the body of Jesus. I have seen many things relative to the subsequent history of this piece of linen, but I could not describe them coherently. After the resurrection it remained in the possession of the friends of Jesus, but fell twice into the hands of the Jews, and later was honoured in several different places. I have seen it in a city of Asia, in the possession of some Christians who were not Catholics. I have forgotten the name of the town, which is situated in a province near the country of the Three Kings.
THE men placed the sacred body on a species of leathern hand-barrow, which they covered with a brown-coloured cloth, and to which they fastened two long stakes. This forcibly reminded me of the Ark of the Covenant. Nicodemus and Joseph bore on their shoulders the front shafts, while Abenadar and John supported those behind. After them came the Blessed Virgin, Mary of Heli, her eldest sister, Magdalen and Mary of Cleophas, and then the group of women who had been sitting at some distance—Veronica, Johanna Chusa, Mary the mother of Mark, Salome the wife of Zebedee, Mary Salome, Salome of Jerusalem, Susanna, and Anne the niece of St. Joseph. Cassius and the soldiers closed the procession. The other women, such as Marone of Naïm, Dina the Samaritaness, and Mara the Suphanitess, were at Bethania, with Martha and Lazarus. Two soldiers, bearing torches in their hands, walked on first, that there might be some light in the grotto of the sepulchre; and the procession continued to advance in this order for about seven minutes, the holy men and women singing psalms in sweet but melancholy tones. I saw James the Greater, the brother of John, standing upon a hill the other side of the valley, to look at them as they passed, and he returned immediately afterwards, to tell the other disciples what he had seen.
The procession stopped at the entrance of Joseph’s
garden, which was opened by the removal of some stakes,
afterwards used as levers to roll the stone to the door
of the sepulchre. When opposite the rock, they placed
the Sacred Body on a long board covered with a sheet.
The grotto, which had been newly excavated, had been
lately cleaned by the servants of Nicodemus, so that
the interior was neat and pleasing to the eye. The holy
women sat down in front of the grotto, while the four
men carried in the body of our Lord, partially filled
the hollow couch destined for its reception with aromatic
spices, and spread
The large stone with which they intended to close
the sepulchre, and which was still lying in front of
the grotto, was in shape very like a chest
THE Sabbath was close at hand, and Nicodemus and Joseph returned to Jerusalem by a small door not far from the garden, and which Joseph had been allowed by special favour to have made in the city wall. They told the Blessed Virgin, Magdalen, John, and some of the women, who were returning to Calvary to pray there, that this door, as well as that of the supper-room, would be opened to them whenever they knocked. The elder sister of the Blessed Virgin, Mary of Heli, returned to the town with Mary the mother of Mark, and some other women. The servants of Nicodemus and Joseph went to Calvary to fetch several things which had been left there.
The soldiers joined those who were guarding the city gate near Calvary; and Cassius went to Pilate with the lance, related all that he had seen, and promised to give him an exact account of everything that should happen, if he would put under his command the guards whom the Jews would not fail to ask to have put round the tomb. Pilate listened to his words with secret terror, but only told him in reply that his superstition amounted to madness.
Joseph and Nicodemus met Peter and the two Jameses
in the town. They all shed many tears, but Peter was
perfectly overwhelmed by the violence of his grief.
He embraced them, reproached himself for not having
been present at the death of our Saviour, and thanked
them for having bestowed the rites of sepulture upon
his sacred body. It was agreed that the door of the
supper-room should be opened to them whenever they knocked,
and then they went away to seek some other disciples
who were dispersed in various directions. Later I saw
the Blessed Virgin and her companions enter the supper-room;
Abenadar next came and was admitted; and by
According to the visions
of Sister Emmerich, the three women named in the text
had been living for some time at Bethania, in a sort
of community established by Martha for the purpose of
providing for the maintenance of the disciples when
our Lord wag moving about, and for the division and
distribution of the alms which were collected. The widow
of Naïm, whose son Martial was raised from the dead
by Jesus, according to Sister Emmerich, on the 28th
Marcheswan (the 18th of November), was named Maroni.
She was the daughter of an uncle, on the father’s side,
of St. Peter. Her first husband was the son of a sister
of Elizabeth, who herself was the daughter of a sister
of the mother of St. Anne. Maroni’s first husband having
died without children, she had married Elind, a relation
of St. Anne, and had left Chasaluth, near Tabor, to
take up her abode at Naïm, which was not far off, and
where she soon lost her second husband. Dina, the Samaritan woman, was the same who conversed
with Jesus by Jacob’s well. She was born near Damascus,
of parents who were half Jewish and half Pagan. They
died while she was yet very young, and she being brought
up by a woman of bad character, the seeds of the most
evil passions were early sown in her heart. She had
had several husbands, who supplanted one another in
turn, and the last lived at Sichar, whither she had
followed him and changed her name from Dina to Salome.
She had three grown-up daughters and two sons, who afterwards
joined the disciples. Sister Emmerich used to say that
the life of this Samaritan woman was prophetic—that
Jesus had spoken to the entire sect of Samaritans in
her person, and that they were attached to their errors
by as many ties as she had committed adulteries. Mara of Suphan was a Moabitess, came from the neighbourhood
of Suphan, and was a descendant of Orpha, the widow
of Chélion, Noëmi’s son. Orpha had married again in
Moab. By Orpha,
the sister-in-law of Ruth, Mara was connected with the
family of David, from whom our Lord was descended. Sister
Emmerich saw Jesus deliver Mara from four devils and
grant her forgiveness of her sins on the 17th Elud (9th
September) of the second year of his public life. She
was living at Ainon, having been repudiated by her husband,
a rich Jew, who had kept the children he had had by
her with him. She had with her three others, the offspring
of her adulteries. ‘I saw,’ Sister Emmerich would say,—‘I saw how the
stray branch of the stock of David was purified within
her by the grace of Jesus, and admitted into the bosom
of the Church. I cannot express how many of these roots
and offshoots I see become entwined with each other,
lost to view, and then once more brought to light.’
Joseph of Arimathea returned home late from the supper-room, and he was sorrowfully walking along the streets of Sion, accompanied by a few disciples and women, when all on a sudden a band of armed men, who were lying in ambuscade in the neighbourhood of Caiphas’s tribunal, fell upon them, and laid hands upon Joseph, whereupon his companions fled, uttering loud cries of terror. He was confined in a tower contiguous to the city wall, not far from the tribunal. These soldiers were pagans, and had not to keep the Sabbath, therefore Caiphas had been able to secure their services on this occasion. The intention was to let Joseph die of hunger, and keep his disappearance a secret.
Here conclude the descriptions of all that occurred on the day of the Passion of our Lord; but we will add some supplementary matter concerning Holy Saturday, the Descent into Hell, and the Resurrection.
WHILST meditating on the name of Golgotha, Calvary, the place of skulls, borne by the rock upon which Jesus was crucified, I became deeply absorbed in contemplation, and beheld in spirit all ages from the time of Adam to that of Christ, and in this vision the origin of the name was made known to me. I here give all that I remember on this subject.
I saw Adam, after his expulsion from Paradise, weeping in the grotto where Jesus sweated blood and water, on Mount Olivet. I saw how Seth was promised to Eve in the grotto of the manger at Bethlehem, and how she brought him forth in that same grotto. I also saw Eve living in some caverns near Hebron, where the Essenian Monastery of Maspha was afterwards established.
I then beheld the country where Jerusalem was built,
as it appeared after the Deluge, and the land was all
unsettled, black, stony, and very different from what
it had been before. At an immense depth below the rock
which constitutes Mount Calvary (which was formed in
this spot by the rolling, of the waters), I saw the
tomb of Adam and Eve. The head and one rib were wanting
to one of the skeletons, and the remaining head was
placed within the same skeleton, to which it did not
belong. The bones of Adam and Eve had not all been left
in this grave, for Noah had some of them with him in
the ark, and they were transmitted from generation to
generation by the Patriarchs. Noah, and also Abraham,
were in the habit, when offering sacrifice, of always
laying some of Adam’s bones upon the altar, to remind
the Almighty of his promise. When Jacob gave Joseph
his variegated robe, he at the same time gave him some
bones of Adam, to be kept as relics. Joseph always wore
them on his bosom, and they were placed with his own
bones in the first reliquary which the children of Israel
brought out of Egypt
As regards the origin of the name of Calvary, I here give all I know. I beheld the mountain which bears this name as it was in the time of the Prophet Eliseus. It was not the same then as at the time of our Lords Crucifixion, but was a hill, with many walls and caverns, resembling tombs, upon it. I saw the Prophet Eliseus descend into these caverns, I cannot say whether in reality or only in a vision, and I saw him take out a skull from a stone sepulchre in which bones were resting. Some one who was by his side—I think an angel—said to him, ‘This is the skull of Adam.’ The prophet was desirous to take it away, but his companion forbade him. I saw upon the skull some few hairs of a fair colour.
I learned also that the prophet having related what had happened to him, the spot received the name of Calvary. Finally, I saw that the Cross of Jesus was placed vertically over the skull of Adam. I was informed that this spot was the exact centre of the earth; and at the same time I was shown the numbers and measures proper to every country, but I have forgotten them, individually as well as in general. Yet I have seen this centre from above, and as it were from a bird’s-eye view. In that way a person sees far more clearly than on a map all the different countries, mountains, deserts, seas, rivers, towns, and even the smallest places, whether distant or near at hand.
As I was meditating upon these words or thoughts of Jesus when hanging on the Cross: ‘I am pressed like wine placed here under the press for the first time; my blood must continue to flow until water comes, but wine shall no more be made here an explanation was given me by means of another vision relating to Calvary.
I saw this rocky country at a period anterior to
the Deluge; it was then less wild and less barren than
it afterwards became, and was laid out in vineyards
and fields. I saw there the Patriarch Japhet, a majestic
dark-complexioned old man, surrounded by immense flocks
and herds and a numerous posterity: his children as
well as himself had dwellings excavated in the ground,
and covered with turf roofs, on which herbs and flowers
were growing. There were vines all around, and a new
method of making wine was being tried on Calvary, in
the presence of Japhet. I saw also the ancient method
of preparing wine, but I can give only the following
description of it. At first men were satisfied with
only eating the grapes; then they pressed them with
pestles in hollow stones, and finally in large wooden
trenches. Upon this occasion a new winepress, resembling
the holy Cross in shape, had been devised; it consisted
of the hollow trunk of a tree placed upright, with a
bag of grapes suspended over it. Upon this bag there
was fastened a pestle, surmounted by a weight; and on
both sides of the trunk were arms joined to the bag,
through openings made for the purpose, and which, when
put in motion by lowering the ends, crushed the grapes.
The juice flowed out of the tree by five openings, and
fell into a stone vat, from whence it flowed through
a channel made of bark and coated with resin, into the
species of cistern excavated in the rock where Jesus
was confined before his Crucifixion. At the foot of
the wine-press, in the stone vat, there was a sort of
sieve to stop the skins, which were put on one side.
When they had made their wine-press, they filled the
bag with grapes, nailed it to the top of the trunk,
placed the pestle, and put in motion the side arms,
in order to make the wine flow. All this very strongly
reminded me of the Crucifixion, on account of the resemblance
between the wine-press and the Cross. They had a long
reed, at the end of which there were points, so that
it looked like an enormous thistle, and they ran this
through the channel and trunk of the tree when there
was any obstruction. I was reminded of the lance and
sponge. There were also
AMONG the dead who rose from their graves, and who were certainly a hundred in number, at Jerusalem, there were no relations, of Jesus. I saw in various parts of the Holy Land others of the dead appear and bear testimony to the Divinity of Jesus. Thus I saw Sadoch, a most pious man, who had given all his property to the poor and to the Temple, appear to many persons in the neighbourhood of Hebron. This Sadoch had lived a century before Jesus, and was the founder of a community of Essenians: he had ardently sighed for the coming of the Messias, and had had several revelations upon the subject. I saw some others of the dead appear to the hidden disciples of our Lord, and give them different warnings.
Terror and desolation reigned even in the most distant
parts of Palestine, and it was not in Jerusalem only
that frightful prodigies took place. At Thirza, the
towers of
A part of the Temple of Garizim crumbled down. An idol stood there above a fountain, in a small temple, the roof of which fell into the fountain with the idol. Half of the synagogue of Nazareth, out of which Jesus had been driven, fell down, as well as that part of the mountain from which his enemies had endeavoured to precipitate him. The bed of the Jordan was much changed by all these shocks, and its course altered in many places. At Macherus, and at the other towns belonging to Herod, everything remained quiet, for that country was out of the sphere of repentance and of threats, like those men who did not fall to the ground in the Garden of Olives, and, consequently, did not rise again.
In many other parts where there were evil spirits, I saw the latter disappear in large bodies amid the falling mountains and buildings. The earthquakes reminded me of the convulsions of the possessed, when the enemy feels that he must take to flight. At Gergesa, a part of the mountain from which the devils had cast themselves with the swine into a marsh, fell into this same marsh; and I then saw a band of evil spirits cast themselves into the abyss, like a dark cloud.
It was at Nice, unless I am mistaken, that I saw
a singular occurrence, of which I have only an imperfect
remembrance. There was a port there with many vessels
in it; and near this port stood a house with a high
tower, in which I saw a pagan whose office was to watch
these vessels. He had often to ascend this tower, and
see what was going on at sea. Having heard a great noise
over the vessels in the port, he hurriedly ascended
the tower to discover what was taking place, and he
saw several dark figures hovering over the port, and
who exclaimed to him in plaintive accents: ‘If thou
desirest to preserve the vessels, cause them to be sailed
out of this port, for we must return to the abyss: the
great Pan is dead.’ They told him several other things;
laid injunctions upon him to make known what they were
then telling him upon his return from a certain voyage
which he was soon to make, and to give a good reception
to the messengers who would
LATE on Friday night, I saw Caiphas and some of the
chief men among the Jews holding a consultation concerning
the best course to pursue with regard to the prodigies
which had taken place, and the effect they had had upon
the people. They continued their deliberations quite
into the morning, and then hurried to Pilate’s house,
to tell him that, as that seducer said, while he
was yet alive, ‘After three days I will rise
again,’ it would be right to command the sepulchre
to be guarded until the third day, as otherwise his
disciples might come and steal him away, and say to
the people, ‘He is risen from the dead,’ and
the last error would be worse than the first.
Pilate was determined to have nothing more to do with
the business, and he only answered: ‘You have, a
guard; go, guard it as you know.’ However, he appointed
Cassius to keep a watch over all that took place, and
give him an exact account of every circumstance. I saw
these men, twelve in number, leave the town before sunrise,
accompanied by some soldiers who did not wear the Roman
uniform, being attached to the Temple. They carried
lanterns fastened to the end of long poles, in order
that they might be able to see every surrounding object,
in spite of the darkness
No sooner had they reached the sepulchre than, having first seen with their own eyes that the body of Jesus was really there, they fastened one rope across the door of the tomb, and a second across the great stone which was placed in front, sealing the whole with a seal of half-circular shape. They then returned to the city, and the guards stationed themselves opposite the outer door. They were five or six in number, and watched three and three alternately. Cassius never left his post, and usually remained sitting or standing in front of the entrance to the cave, so as to see that side of the tomb where the feet of our Lord rested. He had received many interior graces, and been given to understand many mysteries. Being wholly unaccustomed to this state of spiritual enlightenment, he was perfectly transported out of himself, and remained nearly all the time unconscious of the presence of exterior things. He was entirely changed, had become a new man, and spent the whole day in penance, in making fervent acts of gratitude, and in humbly adoring God.
THE faithful disciples of our Lord assembled together in the Cenaculum, to keep the eve of the Sabbath, They were about twenty in number, clothed in long white dresses, and with their waists girded. The room was lighted up by a lamp; and after their repast they separated, and for the most part returned home. They again assembled on the following morning, and sat together reading and praying by turns; and if a friend entered the room, they arose and saluted him cordially.
In that part of the house inhabited by the Blessed
Virgin there was a large room, divided into small compartments
like cells, which were used by the holy women for
Those among the holy women who did not leave the Cenaculum retired to take their rest in the cell-like compartments spoken of above: they fastened long veils over their heads, seated themselves sorrowfully on the floor, and leaned upon the couches which were placed against the wall. After a time they stood up, spread out the bedclothes which were rolled up on the couches, took off their sandals, girdles, and a part of their clothing, and reclined for a time in order to endeavour to get a little sleep. At midnight, they arose, clothed themselves, put up their beds, and reassembled around the lamp to continue their prayer with the Blessed Virgin.
When the Mother of Jesus and her pious companions
had finished their nocturnal prayer (that holy duty
which has been practised by all faithful children of
God and holy souls, who have either felt themselves
called to it by a special grace, or who follow a rule
given by God and his Church), they heard a knock at
the door. which was instantly opened, and John and some
of the disciples who had promised to conduct them to
the Temple, entered, upon which the women wrapped their
cloaks about them, and started instantly. It was then
about three, in the
The Temple was, however, open; the lamps lighted, and the people at liberty to enter the vestibule of the priests, which was the customary privilege of this day, as well as of that which followed the Paschal supper. The Temple was, as I said before, quite empty, with the exception of a chance priest or server who might be seen wandering about; and every part bore the marks of the confusion into which all was thrown on the previous day by the extraordinary and frightful events that had taken place; besides which it had been defiled by the presence of the dead, and I reflected and wondered in my own mind whether it would be possible ever to purify it again.
The sons of Simeon, and the nephews of Joseph of
Arimathea, were much grieved when they heard of the
arrest of their uncle, but they welcomed the Blessed
Virgin and her companions, and conducted them all over
the Temple, which they did without difficulty, as they
held the offices of inspectors of the Temple. The holy
women stood in silence and contemplated all the terrible
and visible marks of the anger of God with feelings
of deep awe, and then listened with interest to the
many stupendous details recounted by their guides. The
effects of the earthquake were still visible, as little
had been done towards repairing the numerous rents and
cracks in the floor, and in the walls. In that part
of the Temple where
The Blessed Virgin visited all those parts which Jesus had rendered sacred in her eyes; she prostrated, kissed them, and with tears in her eyes explained to the others her reasons for venerating each particular spot, whereupon they instantly followed her example. The greatest veneration was always shown by the Jews for all places which had been rendered sacred by manifestations of the Divine power, and it was customary to place the hands reverently on such places, to kiss them, and to prostrate to the very earth before them. I do not think there was anything in the least surprising in such a custom, for they both knew, saw, and felt that the God of Abraham, of Isaac, and of Jacob, was a living God, and that his dwelling among his people was in the Temple at Jerusalem; consequently it would have been infinitely more astonishing if they had not venerated those holy parts where his power had been particularly demonstrated, for the Temple and the holy places were to them what the Blessed Sacrament is to Christians.
Deeply penetrated with these feelings of respect,
the Blessed Virgin walked through the Temple with her
companions, and pointed out to them the spot where she
was presented when still a child, the parts where she
passed her childhood, the place where she was affianced
to St. Joseph, and the spot where she stood when she
presented Jesus and heard the prophecy of Simeon: the
remembrance of his words made her weep bitterly, for
the prophecy was indeed fulfilled, and the sword. of
grief had indeed transfixed her heart; she again stopped
her companions when she reached the part of the Temple
where
The Blessed Virgin did not leave the Temple without shedding many tears, as she contemplated the state of desolation to which it was reduced, an aspect of desolation which was rendered still more depressing by the marked contrast it bore to the usual state of the Temple on the festival day. Instead of songs and hymns of jubilee, a mournful silence reigned throughout the vast edifice, and in place of groups of joyful and devout worshippers, the eye wandered over a vast and dreary solitude. Too truly, alas, did this change betoken the fearful crime which had been perpetrated by the people of God, and she remembered how Jesus had wept over the Temple, and said, ‘Destroy this Temple and In three days I will build it up again.’ She thought over the destruction of the Temple of the Body of Jesus which had been brought about by his enemies, and she sighed with a longing desire for the dawning of that third day when the words of eternal truth were to be accomplished.
It was about daybreak when Mary and her companions
reached the Cenaculum, and they retired into the building
which stood on its right-hand side, while John and some
of the disciples reëntered the Cenaculum, where about
twenty men, assembled around a lamp, were occupied in
prayer. Every now and then new-comers drew nigh to the
door, came in timidity, approached the group round the
lamp, and addressed them in a few mournful words, which
they accompanied with tears. Every one appeared to regard
John with feelings of respect; because he had remained
with Jesus until he expired; but with these sentiments
of respect was mingled a deep feeling of shame and confusion,
when they reflected on their own cowardly conduct in
abandoning their Lord and Master in the hour of need.
John spoke to every one with the greatest charity and
kindness; his manner was modest and
The holy women remained in this room until nightfall; it was lighted up by a single lamp; the doors were closed, and curtains drawn over the windows. Sometimes they gathered round the Blessed Virgin and prayed under the lamp; at other times they retired to the side of the room, covered their heads with black veils, and either sat on ashes (the sign of mourning), or prayed with their faces turned towards the wall; those whose, health was delicate took a little food, but the others fasted.
I looked at them again and again, and I saw them ever occupied in the same manner, that is to say, either in prayer or in mourning over the sufferings of their beloved Master. When my thoughts wandered from the contemplation of the Blessed Virgin to that of her Divine Son, I beheld the holy sepulchre with six or seven sentinels at the entrance—Cassius standing against the door of the cave, apparently in deep meditation, the exterior door closed, and the stone rolled close to it. Notwithstanding the thick door which intervened between the body of our Saviour and myself I could see it plainly; it was quite transparent with a divine light, and two angels were adoring at the side. But my thoughts then turned to the contemplation of the blessed soul of my Redeemer, and such an extensive and complicated picture of his descent into hell was shown to me, that I can only remember a small portion of it, which I will describe to the best of my power.
WHEN Jesus, after uttering a loud cry, expired, I saw his heavenly soul under the form of a bright meteor pierce the earth at the foot of the Cross, accompanied by the angel Gabriel and many other angels. His Divine nature continued united to his soul as well as to his body, which still remained hanging upon the Cross, but I cannot explain how this was, although I saw it plainly in my own mind. The place into which the soul of Jesus entered was divided into three parts, which appeared to me like three worlds; and I felt that they were round, and that each division was separated from the other by a hemisphere.
I beheld a bright and beautiful space opposite to
Limbo; it was enamelled with flowers, delicious breezes
wafted through it; and many souls were placed there
before being admitted into Heaven after their deliverance
from Purgatory. Limbo, the place where the souls were
waiting for the Redemption, was divided into different
compartments, and encompassed by a thick foggy atmosphere.
Our Lord appeared radiant with light and surrounded
by angels, who conducted him triumphantly between two
of these compartments; the one on the left containing
the patriarchs who lived before the time of Abraham,
and that on the right those who lived between the days
of Abraham and St. John Baptist. These souls did not
at first recognise Jesus, but were filled nevertheless
with sensations of joy and hope. There was not a spot
in those narrow confines which did not, as it were,
dilate with feelings of happiness. The passage of Jesus
might be compared to the wafting of a breath of air,
to a sudden flash of light, or to a shower of vivifying
dew, but it was swift as a whirlwind. After passing
through the two compartments, he reached a dark spot
in which Adam and Eve were standing; he spoke to them,
they prostrated and adored him in a perfect ecstasy
of joy, and they immediately joined the band of angels, and accompanied our
This locality appeared to me more elevated than the
surrounding parts; and I can only describe my sensations
on entering it, by comparing them to those of a person
coming suddenly into the interior of a church, after
having been for some time in the burial vaults. The
demons, who were strongly chained, were extremely loth
to enter, and resisted to the utmost of their power,
but the angels compelled them to go forward. All the
just who had lived before the time of Christ were assembled
there; the patriarchs, Moses, the judges, and the kings
on the left-hand side; and on the right side, the prophets,
and the ancestors of our Lord, as also his near relations,
such as Joachim, Anna, Joseph, Zacharias, Elizabeth,
and John. There were no demons in this place, and the
only discomfort
I next saw our Lord, with his triumphant procession, enter into a species of Purgatory which was filled with those good pagans who, having had a faint glimmering of the truth, had longed for its fulfilment: this Purgatory was very deep, and contained a few demons, as also some of the idols of the pagans. I saw the demons compelled to confess the deception they had practised with regard to these idols, and the souls of the poor pagans cast themselves at the feet of Jesus, and adored him with inexpressible joy: here, likewise, the demons were bound with chains and dragged away. I saw our Saviour perform many other actions; but I suffered so intensely at the same time, that I cannot recount them as I should have wished.
Finally, I beheld him approach to the centre of the great abyss, that is to say, to Hell itself; and the expression of his countenance was most severe.
The exterior of Hell was appalling and frightful;
it was an immense, heavy-looking building, and the granite
of which it was formed, although black, was of metallic
brightness; and the dark and ponderous doors were secured
with such terrible bolts that no one could behold them
The form under which the Heavenly Jerusalem is generally
represented in my visions is that of a beautiful and
well-regulated city, and the different degrees of glory
to which the elect are raised are demonstrated by the
magnificence of their palaces., or the wonderful fruit
and flowers with which the gardens are embellished.
Hell is shown to me under the same form, but all within
it is, on the contrary, close, confused, and crowded;
every object tends to fill the mind with sensations
of pain and grief; the marks of the wrath and vengeance
of God are visible everywhere; despair, like a vulture,
gnaws every heart, and discord and misery reign around.
In the Heavenly Jerusalem all is peace and eternal harmony,
the beginning, fulfilment, and end of everything being
pure and perfect happiness; the city is filled with
splendid buildings, decorated in such a manner as to
charm every eye and enrapture every sense; the inhabitants
of this delightful abode are overflowing with rapture
and exultation, the gardens gay with lovely flowers,
and the trees covered with delicious fruits which give
eternal life. In the city of Hell nothing is to be seen
but dismal dungeons, dark caverns, frightful deserts,
fetid swamps filled with every imaginable species of
poisonous and disgusting reptile. In Heaven you behold
the happiness and peaceful union of the saints; in Hell,
perpetual scenes of wretched discord, and every species
of sin and corruption, either under the most horrible
forms imaginable, or represented by different kinds
of dreadful torments. All in this dreary abode tends
to fill the mind with horror; not a word of comfort
is heard or a consoling idea admitted; the one tremendous
thought, that the justice of an all-powerful God inflicts
or, the damned nothing but what they have fully deserved
The tremendous explosion of oaths, curses, cries of despair, and frightful exclamations which, like a clap of thunder, burst forth when the gates of Hell were thrown open by the angels, would be difficult even to imagine; our Lord spoke first to the soul of Judas, and the angels then compelled all the demons to acknowledge and adore Jesus. They would have infinitely preferred the most frightful torments to such a humiliation; but all were obliged to submit. Many were chained down in a circle which was placed round other circles. In the centre of Hell I saw a dark and horrible-looking abyss, and into this Lucifer was cast, after being first strongly secured with chains; thick clouds of sulphureous black smoke arose from its fearful depths, and enveloped his frightful form in the dismal folds, thus effectually concealing him from every beholder. God himself had decreed this; and I was likewise told, if I remember right, that he will be unchained for a time fifty or sixty years before the year of Christ 2000. The dates of many other events were pointed out to me which I do not now remember; but a certain number of demons are to be let loose much earlier than Lucifer, in order to tempt men, and to serve as instruments of the divine vengeance. I should think that some must be loosened even in the present day, and others will be set free in a short time.
It would be utterly impossible for me to describe
all the things which were shown to me; their number
was so great that I could not reduce them sufficiently
to order to define and render them intelligible. Besides
I next saw innumerable bands of redeemed souls liberated from Purgatory and from Limbo, who followed our Lord to a delightful spot situated above the celestial Jerusalem, in which place I, a very short time ago, saw the soul of a person who was very dear to me. The soul of the good thief was likewise taken there, and the promise of our Lord, ‘This day thou shalt be with me in Paradise,’ was fulfilled.
It is not in my power to explain the exact time that
each of these events occurred, nor can I relate one-half
of the things which I saw and heard; for some were incomprehensible
even to myself, and others would be misunderstood if
I attempted to relate them. I have seen our Lord in
many different places. Even in the sea he appeared to
me to sanctify and deliver everything in the creation.
Evil spirits fled at his approach, and cast themselves
into the dark abyss. I likewise beheld his soul in different
parts of the earth, first inside the tomb of Adam, under
Golgotha; and when he was there the souls of Adam and
Eve came up to him, and he spoke to them for some time.
He then visited the tombs of the prophets, who were
buried at an immense depth below the surface; but he
passed through the soil in the twinkling of an eye.
Their souls immediately reëntered their bodies, and
he spoke to them, and explained the most wonderful mysteries.
Next I saw him, accompanied by a chosen band of prophets,
among whom I particularly remarked David, visit those
parts of the earth which had been sanctified by his
miracles and by his sufferings. He pointed out to them,
with the greatest love and goodness, the different symbols
in the old law expressive of the future; and he showed
them how he himself had fulfilled every prophecy. The
sight of the soul of our Lord, surrounded by these happy
souls, and radiant with light, was inexpressibly grand
as he glided
I can remember nothing beyond the facts which I have just related concerning the descent of Jesus into Limbo, where he went in order to present to the souls there detained the grace of the Redemption which he had merited for them by his death and by his sufferings; and I saw all these things in a very short space of time; in fact, time passed so quickly that it seemed to me but a moment. Our Lord, however, displayed before me, at the same time, another picture, in which I beheld the immense mercies which he bestows in the present day on the poor souls in Purgatory; for on every anniversary of this great day, when his Church is celebrating the glorious mystery of his death, he casts a look of compassion on the souls in Purgatory, and frees some of those who sinned against him before his crucifixion. I this day saw Jesus deliver many souls; some I was acquainted with, and others were strangers to me, but I cannot name any of them.
Our Lord, by descending into Hell, planted (if I
may thus express myself), in the spiritual garden of
the Church, a mysterious tree, the fruits of which—namely,
his merits—are destined for the constant relief of
the poor souls in Purgatory. The Church militant must
cultivate the tree, and gather its fruits, in order
to present them to that suffering portion of the Church
which can do nothing for itself. Thus it is with all
the merits of Christ; we must labour with him if we
wish to obtain our share of them; we must gain our bread
by the sweat of our brow. Everything which our Lord
has done for us in time must produce fruit for eternity;
but we must gather these fruits in time, without which
we cannot possess them in eternity. The Church is the
most prudent and thoughtful of mothers; the ecclesiastical
year is an immense and magnificent garden, in which
all those fruits for eternity are gathered together,
that we may make use of them in
TOWARDS the close of the Sabbath-day, John came to see the holy women. He endeavoured to give some consolation, but could not restrain his own tears, and only remained a short time with them. They had likewise a short visit from Peter and James the Greater, after which they retired to their cells, and gave free vent to grief, sitting upon ashes, and veiling themselves even more closely.
The prayer of the Blessed Virgin was unceasing. She ever kept her eyes fixed interiorly on Jesus, and was perfectly consumed by her ardent desire of once more beholding him whom she loved with such inexpressible love. Suddenly an angel stood by her side, and bade her arise and go to the door of the dwelling of Nicodemus, for that the Lord was very near. The heart of the Blessed Virgin leaped for joy. She hastily wrapped her cloak about her, and left the holy women, without informing them where she was going. I saw her walk quickly to a small entrance which was cut in the town wall, the identical one through which she had entered when returning with her companions from the sepulchre.
It was about nine o’clock at night, and the Blessed
Virgin had almost reached the entrance, when I saw her
stop suddenly in a very solitary spot, and look upwards
All the holy women were sitting by a long table, the cover of which hung down to the floor, when Mary returned; bundles of herbs were heaped around them, and these they mixed together and arranged; small flasks, containing sweet unctions and water of spikenard, were standing near, as also bunches of natural flowers, among which I remarked one in particular, which was like a streaked iris or a lily. Magdalen, Mary the daughter of Cleophas, Salome, Johanna, and Mary Salome, had bought all these things in the town during the absence of Mary. Their intention was to go to the sepulchre before sunrise on the following day, in order to strew these flowers and perfumes over the body of their beloved Master.
A SHORT time after the return of the Blessed Virgin
to the holy women, I was shown the interior of the prison
in which the enemies of Joseph of Arimathea had confined
He walked on the summit of the wall until be reached the neighbourhood of the Cenaculum, which was near to the South wall of Sion, and then climbed down and knocked at the door of that edifice, as the doors were fastened. The disciples assembled there had been much grieved when they first missed Joseph, who they thought had been thrown into a sink, a report to that effect having become current. Great, therefore, was their joy when they opened the door and found that it was he himself; indeed, they were almost as much delighted as when Peter was miraculously delivered from prison some years after. When Joseph had related what had taken place, they were filled with astonishment and delight; and after thanking God fervently gave him some refreshment, which he greatly needed. He left Jerusalem that same night, and fled to Arimathea, his native place, where he remained until he thought he could return safely to Jerusalem.
I likewise saw Caiphas towards the close of the Sabbath-day, at the house of Nicodemus. He was conversing with him and asking many questions with pretended kindness. Nicodemus answered firmly, and continued to affirm the innocence of Jesus. They did not remain long together.
I SOON after beheld the tomb of our Lord. All was calm and silent around it. There were six soldiers on guard, who were either seated or standing before the door. and Cassius was among them. His appearance was that of a person immersed in meditation and in the expectation of some great event. The sacred body of our Blessed Redeemer was wrapped in the winding-sheet, and surrounded with light, while two angels sat in an attitude of adoration, the one at the head, and the other at the feet. I had seen them in the same posture ever since he was first put into the tomb. These angels were clothed as priests. Their position, and the manner in which they crossed their arms over their breasts, reminded me of the cherubim who surrounded the Ark of the Covenant, only they were without wings; at least I did not see any. The whole of the sepulchre reminded me of the Ark of the Covenant at different periods of its history. It is possible that Cassius was sensible of the presence of the angels, and of the bright light which filled the sepulchre, for his attitude was like that of a person in deep contemplation before the Blessed Sacrament.
I next saw the soul of our Lord accompanied by those among the patriarchs whom he had liberated enter into the tomb through the rock. He showed them the wounds with which his sacred body was covered; and it seemed to me that the winding-sheet which previously enveloped it was removed, and that Jesus wished to show the souls the excess of suffering he had endured to redeem them. The body appeared to me to be quite transparent, so that the whole depth of the wounds could be seen; and this sight filled the holy souls with admiration, although deep feelings of compassion likewise drew tears from their eyes.
My next vision was so mysterious that I cannot explain
or even relate it in a clear manner. It appeared to
me that the soul and body of Jesus were taken together
out of the sepulchre, without, however, the former being
At this moment the rock was so violently shaken, from the very summit to the base, that three of the guards fell down and became almost insensible. The other four were away at the time, being gone to the town to fetch something. The guards who were thus thrown prostrate attributed the sudden shock to an earthquake; but Cassius, who, although uncertain as to what all this might portend, yet felt an inward presentiment that it was the prelude to some stupendous event, stood transfixed in anxious expectation, waiting to see what would follow next. The soldiers who were gone to Jerusalem soon returned.
I again beheld the holy women: they had finished
preparing the spices, and were resting in their private
cells; not stretched out on the couches, but leaning
against the bedclothes, which were rolled up. They wished
to go to the sepulchre before the break of day, because
they
It was towards eleven o’clock at night when the Blessed Virgin, incited by irrepressible feelings of love, arose, wrapped a gray cloak around her, and left the house quite alone. When I saw her do this, I could not help feeling anxious, and saying to myself, ‘How is it possible for this holy Mother, who is so exhausted from anguish and terror, to venture to walk all alone through the streets at such an hour?’ I saw her go first to the house of Caiphas, and then to the palace of Pilate, which was at a great distance off; I watched her through the whole of her solitary journey along that part which had been trodden by her Son, loaded with his heavy Cross; she stopped at every place where our Saviour had suffered particularly, or had received any fresh outrage from his barbarous enemies. Her appearance, as she walked slowly along, was that of a person seeking something; she often bent down to the ground, touched the stones with her hands, and then inundated them with kisses, if the precious blood of her beloved Son was upon them. God granted her at this time particular lights and graces, and she was able without the slightest degree of difficulty to distinguish every place sanctified by his sufferings. I accompanied her through the whole of her pious pilgrimage, and I endeavoured to imitate her to the best of my power, as far as my weakness would permit.
Mary then went to Calvary; but when she had almost
reached it, she stopped suddenly, and I saw the sacred
body and soul of our Saviour standing before her. An
angel walked in front; the two angels whom I had seen
in the tomb were by his side, and the souls whom he
had redeemed followed him by hundreds. The body of Jesus
was brilliant and beautiful, but its appearance was
not
I once more saw the sacred body of our Lord stretched out as I first beheld it in the sepulchre; the angels were occupied in replacing the fragments they had gathered up of his flesh, and they received supernatural assistance in doing this. When next I contemplated him it was in his winding-sheet, surrounded with a bright light and with two adoring angels by his side. I cannot explain how all these things came to pass, for they are far beyond our human comprehension; and even if I understand them perfectly myself when I see them, they appear dark and mysterious when I endeavour to explain them to others.
As soon as a faint glimmering of dawn appeared in the east, I saw Magdalen, Mary the daughter of Cleophas, Johanna Chusa, and Salome, leave the Cenaculum, closely wrapped up in their mantles. They carried bundles of spices; and one of their number had a lighted candle in ‘her hand, which she endeavoured to conceal under her cloak. I saw them direct their trembling steps towards the small door at the house of Nicodemus.
I BEHELD the soul of our Lord between two angels, who were in the attire of warriors: it was bright, luminous, and resplendent as the sun at mid-day; it penetrated the rock, touched the sacred body, passed into it, and the two were instantaneously united, and became as one. I then saw the limbs move, and the body of our Lord, being reunited to his soul and to his divinity, rise and shake off the winding-sheet: the whole of the cave was illuminated and lightsome.
At the same moment I saw a frightful monster burst from the earth underneath the sepulchre. It had the tail of a serpent, and it raised its dragon head proudly as if desirous of attacking Jesus; and had likewise, if I remember correctly, a human head. But our Lord held in his hand a white staff, to which was appended a large banner; and he placed his foot on the head of the dragon, and struck its tail three times with his staff, after which the monster disappeared. I had had this same vision many times before the Resurrection, and I saw just such a monster, appearing to endeavour to hide itself, at the time of the conception of our Lord: it greatly resembled the serpent which tempted our first parents in Paradise, only it was more horrible. I thought that this vision had reference to the prophetic words, that ‘by the seed of the woman the head of the serpent should be crushed,’ and that the whole was intended to demonstrate the victory of our Lord over death, for at the same moment that I saw him crush the head of the monster, the tomb likewise vanished from my sight.
I then saw the glorified body of our Lord rise up,
and it passed through the hard rock as easily as if
the latter had been formed of some ductile substance.
The earth shook, and an angel in the garb of a warrior
descended from Heaven with the speed of lightning, entered
the tomb, lifted the stone, placed it on the right side,
and
At the very moment in which the angel entered the sepulchre and the earth quaked, I saw our Lord appear to his holy Mother on Calvary. His body was beautiful and lightsome, and its beauty was that of a celestial being. He was clothed in a large mantle, which at one moment looked dazzlingly white, as it floated through the air, waving to and fro with every breath of wind, and the next reflected a thousand brilliant colours as the sunbeams passed over it. His large open wounds shone brightly, and could be seen from a great distance: the wounds in his hands were so large that a finger might be put into them without difficulty; and rays of light proceeded from them, diverging in the direction of his fingers. The souls of the patriarchs bowed down before the Mother of our Saviour, and Jesus spoke to her concerning his Resurrection, telling her many things which I have forgotten. He showed her his wounds; and Mary prostrated to kiss his sacred feet; but he took her hand, raised her, and disappeared.
When I was at some distance from the sepulchre I saw fresh lights burning there, and I likewise beheld a large luminous spot in the sky immediately over Jerusalem.
THE holy women were very near the door of Nicodemus’s house at the moment of our Lord’s Resurrection; but they did not see anything of the prodigies which were taking place at the sepulchre. They were not aware that guards had been placed around the tomb, for they had not visited it on the previous day, on account of its being the Sabbath. They questioned one another anxiously concerning what would have to be done about the large stone at the door, as to who would be the best person to ask about removing it, for they had been so engrossed by grief that they had not thought about it before. Their intention was to pour precious ointments upon the body of Jesus, and then to strew over it flowers of the most rare and aromatic kinds, thus rendering all the honour possible to their Divine Master in his sepulchre. Salome, who had brought more things than any one else, was a rich lady, who lived in Jerusalem, a relation of St. Joseph, but not the mother of John. The holy women came to the determination of putting down their spices on the stone which closed the door of the monument, and waiting until some one came to roll it back.
The guards were still lying on the ground, and the strong convulsions which even then shook them clearly demonstrated how great had been their terror, and the large stone was cast on one side, so that the door could be opened without difficulty. I could see the linen cloth in which the body of Jesus had been wrapped scattered about in the tomb, and the large winding-sheet lying in the same place as when they left it, but doubled together in such a manner that you saw at once that it no longer contained anything but the spices which had been placed round the body, and the bandages were on the outside of the tomb. The linen cloth in which Mary had enveloped the sacred head of her Son was still there.
I saw the holy women coming into the garden; but
Magdalen started, and appeared for a moment terrified when she drew near the sentinels. She retreated a few steps and rejoined Salome, but both quickly recovered their presence of mind, and walked on together through the midst of the prostrate guards, and entered into the cave which contained the sepulchre. They immediately perceived that the stone was removed, but the doors were closed, which had been clone in all probability by Cassius Magdalen opened them quickly, looked anxiously into the sepulchre, and was much surprised at seeing that the cloths in which they had enveloped our Lord were lying on one side, and that the place where they had deposited the sacred remains was empty. A celestial light filled the cave, and an angel was seated on the right side. Magdalen became almost beside herself from disappointment and alarm. I do not know whether she heard the words which the angel addressed to her, but she left the garden as quickly as possible, and ran to the town to inform the Apostles who were assembled there of what had taken place. I do not know whether the angel spoke to Mary Salome, as she did not enter the sepulchre; but I saw her leaving the garden directly after Magdalen, in order to relate all that had happened to the rest of the holy women, who were both frightened and delighted at the news, but could not make up their minds as to whether they would go to the garden or not.
In the mean time Cassius had remained near the sepulchre
in hopes of seeing Jesus, as he thought he would be
certain to appear to the holy women; but seeing nothing,
he directed his steps towards Pilate’s palace to relate
to him all that had happened, stopping, however, first
at the place where the rest of the holy women were assembled,
In the mean time. Magdalen reached the Cenaculum.
She was so excited as to appear like a person beside
herself, and knocked hastily at the door. Some of the
disciples, were still sleeping, and those who were risen
were conversing together. Peter and John opened the
door, but she only exclaimed, without entering the house,
‘They have taken away the body of my Lord, and I
know not where they have laid him,’ and immediately
returned to the garden. Peter and John went back into
the house, and after saying a few words to the other
disciples followed her as speedily as possible, but
John far outstripped Peter. I then saw Magdalen reënter
the garden, and direct her steps towards the sepulchre;
she appeared greatly agitated,
She then raised her head, looked around, and perceived
a tall figure, clothed in white, standing at about ten
paces from the sepulchre on the east side of the garden,
where there was a Plight rise in the direction of the
town; the figure was partly hidden from her sight by
a palm-tree, but she was somewhat startled when it addressed
her in these words: ‘Woman, why weepest thou? Whom
seekest thou?’ She thought it was the gardener;
and, in fact, he had a spade in his hand, and a large
hat (apparently made of the bark of trees) on his head.
His dress was similar to that worn by the gardener described
in the parable which Jesus
The reason of the words of Jesus, ‘Do not touch
me,’ was afterwards explained to me, but I have
only an indistinct remembrance of that explanation.
I think be made use of those words because of the impetuosity
of Magdalen’s feelings, which made her in a certain
degree forget the stupendous mystery which had been
accomplished, and feel as if what she then beheld was
still mortal instead of a glorified body. As for the
words of Jesus, ‘I am not yet ascended to my Father,’
I was told that their meaning was that he had not presented
himself to his Father since his Resurrection, to return
him thanks for his victory over death, and for the work
of the redemption which he had accomplished. He wished
her to infer from these words, that the first-fruits
of joy belong to God, and that she ought to reflect
and return thanks to him for the accomplishment of the
glorious mystery of the redemption, and for the victory
which he had gained over death; and if she had kissed
his feet as she used before the Passion, she would have
thought of nothing but her Divine Master, and in her
raptures of love have totally forgotten the wonderful
events which were causing such astonishment and joy
in Heaven. I saw Magdalen arise quickly, as soon as
our Lord disappeared, and run to look again in the sepulchre,
The whole of this scene occupied a little more than two or three minutes. It was about half-past three when our Lord appeared to Magdalen, and John and Peter entered the garden just as she was leaving it. John, who was a little in advance of Peter, stopped at the entrance of the cave and looked in. He saw the linen clothes lying on one side, and waited until Peter came up, when they entered the sepulchre together, and saw the winding-sheet empty as has been before described. John instantly believed in the Resurrection, and they both understood clearly the words addressed to them by Jesus before his Passion, as well as the different passages in Scripture relating to that event, which had until then been incomprehensible to them. Peter put the linen clothes under his cloak, and they returned hastily into the town through the small entrance belonging to Nicodemus.
The appearance of the holy sepulchre was the same
when the two apostles entered as when Magdalen first
saw it. The two adoring angels were seated, one at the
head, and the other at the extremity of the tomb, in
precisely the same attitude as when his adorable body
was lying there. I do not think Peter was conscious
of their presence. I afterwards heard John tell the
disciples of Emmaus, that when he looked into the sepulchre
he saw an angel. Perhaps he was startled by this sight,
and therefore drew back and let Peter enter the sepulchre
first; but it is likewise very possible that the reason
of his not mentioning the circumstance in his gospel
was because
The guards at this moment began to revive, and rising, gathered up their lances, and took down the lamps, which were on the door, from whence they cast a glimmering weak light on surrounding objects. I then saw them walk hastily out of the garden in evident fear and trepidation, in the direction of the town.
In the mean time Magdalen had rejoined the holy women, and given them the account of her seeing the Lord in the garden, and of the words of the angels afterwards, whereupon they immediately related what had been seen by themselves, and Magdalen wended her way quickly to Jerusalem, while the women returned to that side of the garden where they expected to find the two apostles. Just before they reached it, Jesus appeared to them. He was clothed in a long white robe, which concealed even his hands, and said to them, ‘All hail.’ They started with astonishment, and cast themselves at his feet; he spoke a few words, held forth his hand as if to point out something to them, and disappeared. The holy women went instantly to the Cenaculum, and told the disciples who were assembled there that they had seen the Lord; the disciples were incredulous, and would not give credence either to their account or to that of Magdalen. They treated both the one and the other as the effects of their excited imaginations; but when Peter and John entered the room and related what they likewise had seen, they knew not what to answer, and were filled with astonishment.
Peter and John soon left the Cenaculum, as the wonderful events which had taken place rendered them extremely silent and thoughtful, and before long they met James the Less and Thaddeus, who had wished to accompany them to the sepulchre. Both James and Thaddeus were greatly overcome, for the Lord had appeared to them a short time before they met Peter and John. I also saw Jesus pass quite close to Peter and John. I think the former recognised him, for he started suddenly, but I do not think the latter saw him.
CASSIUS hastened to the house of Pilate about an hour after the Resurrection, in order to give him an account of the stupendous events which had taken place. He was not yet risen, but Cassius was allowed to enter his bedroom. He related all that had happened, and expressed his feelings in the most forcible language. He described how the rock had been rent, and how an angel had descended from Heaven and pushed aside the stone; he also spoke of the empty winding-sheet, and added that most certainly Jesus was the Messiah, the Son of God, and that he was truly risen. Pilate listened to this account; he trembled and quivered with terror, but concealed his agitation to the best of his power, and answered Cassius in these words: ‘Thou art exceedingly superstitious; it was very foolish to go to the Galilæan’s tomb; his gods took advantage of thy weakness, and displayed all these ridiculous visions to alarm thee. I recommend thee to keep silence, and not recount such silly tales to the priests, for thou wouldst got the worst of it from them.’ He pretended to believe that the body of Jesus had been carried away by his disciples, and that the sentinels, who had been bribed, and had fallen asleep, or perhaps been deceived by witchcraft, had fabricated these accounts in order to justify their conduct. When Pilate had said all he could on the subject, Cassius left him, and he went to offer sacrifice to his gods.
The four soldiers who had guarded the tomb arrived
shortly after at Pilate’s palace, and began to tell
him all that he had already heard from Cassius; but
he would listen to nothing more, and sent them to Caiphas.
The rest of the guards were assembled in a large court
near the Temple which was filled with aged Jews, who,
after
All these precautions, however, availed but little, for, after the Resurrection, many persons who had been long dead arose from their graves, and appeared to those among their descendants who were not sufficiently hardened to be impervious to grace, and exhorted them to be converted. These dead persons were likewise seen by many of the disciples, who, overcome with terror, and shaken in faith, had fled into the country. They both exhorted and encouraged them to return, and restored their drooping courage. The resurrection of these dead persons did not in the slightest degree resemble the Resurrection of Jesus. He arose with a glorified body, which was no longer susceptible of either corruption or death, and ascended into heaven with this glorified body in the sight of all his disciples; but the dead bodies of which we spoke above were motionless corpses, and the souls which once inhabited them were only allowed to enter and reanimate them for a time, and after performing the mission given them, the souls again quitted these bodies, which returned to their original state in the bowels of the earth, where they will remain until the resurrection at the day of judgment. Neither could their return to life be compared to the raising of Lazarus from the dead; for he really returned to a new life, and died a second time.
ON the following Sunday,
I saw Annas in such a state of frenzy as to act like one possessed; he was at last obliged to be confined, and never again to make his appearance in public. Caiphas was outwardly less demonstrative, but he was inwardly devoured with such rage and extreme jealousy that his reason was affected.
I saw Pilate on Easter Thursday; he was instituting
a search for his wife in every part of the city, but
his efforts for her recovery were fruitless; she was
concealed in the house of Lazarus, in Jerusalem. No
one thought of looking there, as the house contained
no other female; but Stephen carried food to her there,
and let her know all that was going on in the city.
Stephen was first-cousin to St. Paul. They were the
sons of two brothers. On the day after the Sabbath,
Simon of Cyrene went to
The visions of Sister Emmerich, which had continued from the 18th of February to the 6th of April 1823, here came to a conclusion.
ON the 15th of March 1821, Sister Emmerich gave the following detached, account of parts of a vision which she had had the previous night concerning St. Longinus, whose festival happened to fall upon that very day, although she did not know it.
‘Longinus, who had, I think, another name, held an office, partly civil and partly military, in the household of Pilate, who intrusted him with the duty of superintending all that passed, and making a report of it to him. He was trustworthy and ready to do a service, but previous to his conversion was greatly wanting in firmness and strength of character. He was excessively impetuous in all that he did, and anxious to be thought a person of great importance, and as he squinted and had weak eyes, he was often jeered at and made the laughing-stock of his companions. I have seen him frequently during the course of this night, and in connection with him I have at the same time seen all the Passion, I do not know in what manner; I only remember that it was in connection with him.
‘Longinus was only in a subordinate position, and
had to give an account to Pilate of all that he saw.
On the night that Jesus was led before the tribunal
of Caiphas he was in the outer court among the soldiers,
and unceasingly going backwards and forwards. When Peter
was alarmed at the words of the maid-servant
‘When Jesus was being led to Calvary, Longinus, by Pilate’s orders, followed him closely, and our Divine Lord gave him a look which touched his heart. Afterwards I saw him on Golgotha with the soldiers. He was. on horseback, and carried a lance; I saw him at Pilate’s house, after the death of our Lord, saying that the legs of Jesus ought not to be broken. He returned at once to Calvary. His lance was made of several pieces which fitted one into the other, so that by drawing them out, the lance could be made three times its original length. He had just done this when he came to the sudden determination of piercing the side of our Saviour. He was converted upon Mount Calvary, and a short time afterwards expressed to Pilate his conviction that Jesus was the Son of God. Nicodemus prevailed upon Pilate to let him have Longinus’s lance, and I have seen many things concerning the subsequent history of this lance. Longinus, after his conversion, left the army, and joined the disciples. He and two other soldiers, who were converted at the foot of the Cross, were among the first baptised after Pentecost.
‘I saw Longinus and these two men, clothed in long
white garments, return to their native land. They lived
there in the country, in a barren and marshy locality.
Here it was that the forty martyrs died. Longinus was
not a priest, but a deacon, and travelled here and there
in that capacity, preaching the name of Christ, and
giving, as an eye-witness, a history of his Passion
and Resurrection. He converted a large number of persons,
and cured many of the sick, by allowing them to touch
a piece of the sacred lance which he carried with him.
The Jews were much enraged at him and his two companions
because they made known in all parts the truth of the
Resurrection of Jesus, and the cruelty and deceits of
his enemies. At their instigation, some Roman soldiers
were dispatched to Longinus’s country to take and judge
him on the plea of his having left the army without
leave, and
‘Afterwards I had a vision of things happening at a later period. A blind countrywoman of St. Longinus went with her son on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, in hopes of recovering her sight in the holy city where the eyes of Longinus had been cured. She was guided by her child, but he died, and she was left alone and disconsolate. Then St. Longinus appeared to her, and told her that she would recover her sight when she had drawn his head out of a sink into which the Jews had thrown it. This sink was a deep well, with the sides bricked, and all the filth and refuse of the town flowed into it through several drains. I saw some persons lead the poor woman to the spot; she descended into the well up to her neck, and draw out the sacred head, whereupon she recovered her sight. She returned to her native land, and her companions preserved the head. I remember no more upon this subject.’
ON the 1st of April 1823, Sister Emmerich said that that day was the Feast of St. Ctésiphon, the centurion who had assisted at the Crucifixion, and that she had seen during the night various particulars concerning his, life. But she had also suffered greatly, which, combined with exterior distractions, had caused her to forget the greatest part of what she had seen. She related what follows:
‘Abenadar, afterwards called Ctésiphon, was born in a country situated between Babylon and Egypt in Arabia Felix, to the right of the spot where Job dwelt during the latter half of his life. A certain number of square houses, with flat roofs, were built there on a slight ascent. There were many small trees growing on this spot, and incense and balm were gathered there. I have been in Abenadar’s house, which was large and spacious, as might be expected of a rich man’s house, but it was also very low. All these houses were built in this manner, perhaps on account of the wind, because they were much exposed. Abenadar had joined the garrison of the fortress Antonia, at Jerusalem, as a volunteer. He had entered the Roman service for the purpose of enjoying more facilities in his study of the fine arts, for he was a learned man. His character was firm, his figure short and thick-set, and his complexion dark.
‘Abenadar was early convinced, by the doctrine which
he heard Jesus preach, and by a miracle which he saw
him work, that salvation was to be found among the Jews,
and he had submitted to the law of Moses. Although not
yet a disciple of our Lord, he bore him no ill-will,
and held his person in secret veneration. He was naturally
grave and composed, and when he came to Golgotha to
relieve guard, he kept order on all sides, and forced
everybody to behave at least with common decency, down
to the moment when truth triumphed over him, and he
rendered public testimony to the Divinity of Jesus.
Being a rich man, and a volunteer, he had no difficulty
in resigning his post at once. He assisted at
‘Ctésiphon accompanied the Apostle St. James the
Greater into Spain, and also returned with him. After
a time, he was again sent into Spain by the Apostles,
and carried there the body of St. James, who had been
martyred at Jerusalem. He was made a bishop, and resided
chiefly in a sort of island or peninsula at no great
distance from France, which he also visited, and where
he made some disciples. The name of the place where
he lived was rather like Vergui, and it was afterwards
laid waste by an inundation. I do not remember that
Ctésiphon was ever martyred. He wrote several books
containing details concerning the Passion of Christ;
but there have been some books falsely attributed to
him, and others, which were really from his pen, ascribed
to different writers. Rome has since rejected these
books, the greatest part of which were apocryphal, but
which nevertheless did contain some few things really
from his pen. One of the guards of our Lord’s sepulchre,
who would not let himself be bribed by the Jews, was
his fellow countryman and friend. His name was something
like Sulei or Suleii. After being detained some time
in prison, he retired into a cavern of Mount Sinai,
where he lived seven years. God bestowed many special
graces upon this man, and he wrote some very learned
books in the style of Denis the Areopagite, Another
writer made use of his works, and in this manner some
extracts from them have come down to us. Everything
concerning these facts was made known to me, as well
as the name of the book, but I have forgotten it. This
countryman of Ctésiphon afterwards followed him
THE END.
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