SIXTEENTH LETTER.
The Sign of the Cross breaks idols and expels the demons from them: examples — It
expels them from the possessed: examples — Recent anecdote — Other proofs:
exorcisms — It renders vain the direct attacks of the demons: examples — Their
indirect attacks: proofs — All creatures subject to the demons serve as their
instruments to harm us — The Sign of the Cross delivers them, and prevents their
being injurious to our body, or soul — Profound Philosophy of the early
Christians — The use they made of the Sign of the Cross — Tableau by St.
Chrysostom December 11th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
The power of the Sign of the Cross, my dear Frederic, must be as extended as that of Satan. The
infernal usurper has seized upon all parts of creation; the legitimate proprietor has, then, to eject him,
and to give to those who have the use of them the means by which to eject him themselves. Therefore
not only does the Sign of the Cross prevent the demons from speaking, and oblige them to leave the
places they inhabit, but it also expels them from the bodies of the possessed. I shall give a few facts
from among thousands in support of these self-evident truths.
The following happened under the Emperor Antoninus. That Cæsar, “The Philosopher,” cruelly
persecuted the faithful. Rome was filled with idols. To their feet they dragged our ancestors, to compel
them to offer incense. Glyceria, one of our heroic sisters, was brought before the governor of the
imperial city. “Take this torch,” said he, “and sacrifice to Jupiter.” “I will never do so,” answered
Glyceria. “I sacrifice to the eternal God; for that I need no torch, which produces smoke. Cause it to be
extinguished, that my sacrifice may be the more agreeable to Him.” The governor spoke, and the
torches were extinguished. Then the chaste and noble virgin raised her eyes towards heaven, and
stretching forth her hands towards the people, said: “Do you see the brilliant torch engraven on my
forehead?“ At these words she made the Sign of the Cross and prayed: “O Almighty God, whom thy
servants glorify by the Cross of Jesus Christ, break this demon formed by the hand of man.” At the
same moment a clap of thunder resounded in their ears, and the marble Jupiter was shattered into
fragments.”1
We read the same of St. Procopius, a martyr under Diocletian. Being brought before the idols, the
glorious champion stood facing the East, and made the Sign of the Cross over his body. Then, raising
his eyes and hands to Heaven, he said, “O Lord Jesus Christ!” making at the same time the Sign of the
Cross against the statues, and accompanying it with the words: “Impure images, I say to you, fear the
name of my God: melt now into water, and spread over this temple.” His words were immediately
accomplished.2
Obliged by the Sign of the Cross to quit the places they inhabit, the demons are equally
constrained, by virtue of the same sign, to leave the bodies of the unfortunates of whom they have
taken possession. Here again we find numerous facts attested by unexceptionable witnesses.
First, there is St. Gregory, one of the greatest popes that have governed the
Catholic Church. He speaks of a fact of recent occurrence in his own country.
In the time of the Goths, King Totila came to Narni.3 The town had for its bishop the venerable
Cassius, who thought he had better go to meet the prince. The habit of weeping had inflamed the
face of the holy bishop, but Totila, judging it to be the effect of wine-drinking, showed a profound
contempt for the man of God. But the Almighty wished to show how great was he of whom so little
account was made. In the plain of Narni, and in sight of the entire army, the Demon took
1 Baron. t. II.
2 Sur. 8. Jul.
3 A small town not far from Rome.
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possession of Totila’s squire, and cruelly tormented him. In the presence of the king, they brought
him to the venerable Cassius. The saint began to pray, made the Sign of the Cross, and the Demon
was expelled. From that moment Totila’s contempt was changed into respect, he having learned the
true character of him whose appearance had excited his contempt.4
Listen to another fact which took place in your own country. In Prussia, in a place called
Velsenberg, there lived a rich and powerful man called Ethelbert. He was possessed by a demon, and
had to be bound with iron chains. As he was a prey to most cruel pains, he received many visits. One
day, in the presence of the priests of the idols and many pagans, the demon cried out: “If Swibert, the
servant of the living God, does not come, I will never depart hence.”
You are not ignorant that St. Swibert was one of the apostles of Friesland and part of Germany. As
the demon unceasingly repeated the same words, the idolaters went away much puzzled, not knowing
what to think of all that they had seen and heard. After much hesitation, his friends decided to seek the
saint. Having found him, they earnestly entreated him to visit the demoniac. Swibert consented.
Scarcely had he set out, when the possessed man began to foam at the mouth, to gnash his teeth, and to
scream more horribly than ever. As the saint drew near his dwelling, he suddenly became calm and
tranquil, and lay on his bed as if in a peaceful sleep.
The saint, having looked at him, bade his companions to pray. He himself entreated the Lord that,
for the glory of His name, and the conversion of the unbelievers, He would expel the demon from the
body of the unfortunate man. When his prayer was ended, he arose and made the Sign of the Cross
over the demoniac, saying: “In the name of our Lord Jesus Christ, I command thee, impure spirit, to
depart out of this creature of God, that he may know Him who is truly His Creator.” At that instant the
evil spirit went out, leaving behind him a horrid stench.5 The sick man, overwhelmed with joy, fell at
the saint’s feet, and with tears begged for baptism, which was granted him.
Behold, dear Frederic, what was happening in Prussia when she was drawn out of barbarism.
There, as in other places, it was by miracles that the Gospel proved its mission, and the Sign of the
Cross was its ordinary instrument. What is now the religion of the Prussians? Is it that of the first
apostles? That which teaches to make the Sign of the Cross?
The Protestants unceasingly cry out that an honest man ought not to change his religion. They
love, say they, men who hold to the religion of their fathers; as for me, I love those better who hold to
that of their grandfathers. You know, no doubt, the anecdote related of the celebrated Count de
Stolberg. This amiable and learned man, one of the glories of your Germany, had abjured
Protestantism. The king of Prussia was highly displeased, and refused to see him. However, after the
lapse of some years, the king, being desirous of his advice, sent for the count. As soon as they met,
William said to him: “Sir Count, I cannot conceal that I have but little esteem for a man who changes
his religion.” The Count bowing, replied: “This is the very reason, Sire, why I so profoundly despise
Luther.”
That the Sign of the Cross is the universal and all-powerful weapon, with which to expel the
demons from the bodies of the possessed, is proved by the exorcisms of the Church. If you cast a
glance over the Roman Ritual, you will find the proof of what I advance. Now, the exorcisms, with the
breathings and the Sign of the Cross, date back to the very cradle of Christianity. Mention is made of it
by all the Fathers who have spoken of Baptism, and nearly every one both in the East and the West has
spoken of it.
4 Dialog., lib. iii., c. 6.
5 Marcellin., in Vit. S. Suibert., c. xx.
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In the name of all, let us hear St. Gregory the Great.
When the catechumens present themselves to be exorcised, the priest must first breathe on the face,
in order that the Demon, being ejected, entrance may be given to Jesus Christ, our God. Then, he
makes the Sign of the Cross on the forehead, saying: “I place on thy forehead the Sign of the Cross
of our Lord Jesus Christ;” and on the breast, saying: “I place on thy breast the sign of our Lord
Jesus Christ.”6
The exorcisms, as above described, have descended to us through all ages. At this very hour they
are still in use in every part of the globe where there is a Catholic priest on mission, and a human being
to be withdrawn from the dominion of Satan. But the demons are not only in the temples and statues
wherein they are worshipped, or in the bodies of the unfortunates whom they torment; they are
everywhere. The air is full of them. They are indefatigable enemies, who continually attack us, either
by themselves, or through the intermediation of creatures. Their attacks, whether direct or indirect,
open or masked, fail before the Sign of the Cross. “The Lord,” says Arnobius, “has prepared our
fingers for the combat, so that when we shall be attacked by our enemies, visible or invisible, we may
use our fingers to form on our foreheads the triumphant Sign of the Cross.”7
Among thousands of other heroines, as young and exposed as she, Justina of Nicomedia knew
how to employ this victorious weapon. Born of noble parents, endowed with riches and rare beauty,
the young Christian virgin, notwith-standing her modesty and her flight from the world, inspired a
young pagan named Agladius with a violent passion. To attain his desires, he employed offers,
promises and prayers, but finding all useless, had recourse to Cyprian, a famous magician in the city.
He soon experienced the same passion, and employed all the resources of his art to win her for himself.
He had no difficulty in obtaining the aid of Hell. The most violent demons were sent to tempt the
young saint. Finding herself so strongly attacked, Justina redoubled her prayers, watchings and
mortifications. In the height of the combat she made the Sign of the Cross, and the demons took to
flight. Not only did she preserve her virtue, but she had also the glory of converting Cyprian, who
became an illustrious martyr, and one of the most noble conquests of the liberating sign.8
And St. Anthony, the great champion of the desert, whose life was spent in warfare with the
demons, in their paroxysms of rage and under the most frightful forms, he also knew how to handle
this victorious weapon. Let a historian worthy of such a man speak.
St Athanasius says:
Sometimes a sudden noise was heard. Anthony’s dwelling shook violently, and through the halfopened
walls poured in a crowd of demons, who assumed the forms of beasts and serpents. The cell
was filled with lions, bulls, wolves, asps, dragons, scorpions, bears and leopards, each of which
uttered its natural cry. The lion roared, ready to devour him; the bull threatened with his bellowing
and his horns; the serpent hissed; the wolf showed his teeth; the leopard, by his variegated colors,
represented the cunning of the infernal serpent: all were frightful to behold, horrible to hear.
Anthony, beaten and wounded, suffered acute pain in his body, but his soul remained
imperturbable. Though his wounds drew from him moans of pain, nevertheless he, ever the same,
cried out derisively to his enemies: “If you had any strength, one of you alone could vanquish me,
but because the power of my God enfeebles you, you come in crowds to frighten me. ... If you have
any power, if my God has delivered me to you, here I am, devour me. If you can do nothing against
me, why do you make so many useless efforts?” The Sign of the Cross, and confidence in God, are
6 S. Greg., Sacrament.
7 Arnob. in Ps. 143.
8 Life, Sept. 26th.
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for us an impregnable fortress. Then they gnashed their teeth, and uttered a thousand threats against
the saint, seeing that their attacks only served to bring derision on themselves.9
The same fearless language, which faith caused Anthony to use towards the demons, was also
addressed by him to the pagan philosophers. “What is the use of disputations?” said the patriarch of the
desert to those perpetual seekers after truth.
We pronounce the name of the Crucified, and all the demons, that you adore as gods, howl and
roar. At the first Sign of the Cross, they fly from the possessed. Behold! where are the lying
oracles? Where the enchantments of the Egyptians? Of what use are magic words? All have been
destroyed since that day when the name of Jesus Crucified resounded through the world.
Then, having called to him some who were possessed, he continued to say to his interlocutors:
Come on with your syllogisms, or any other charm that you please. Expel out of these miserable
victims those whom you call your gods. If you cannot, then confess yourselves vanquished. Have
recourse to the Sign of the Cross, and the humility of your faith shall be followed by a miracle of
power.
At these words he invoked the name of Jesus, made the Sign of the Cross over the foreheads of the
possessed, and the demons fled, in the presence of the confounded philosophers.10
Similar facts are almost as numerous as the pages of history. You know them, and I will pass on.
To attacks, direct and palpable, the demons add those that are masked and indirect. Not less
dangerous than the first, they are much more frequent. They are of two kinds; one, interior; the other,
exterior. The first are what we commonly call temptations. Now, I have said that the Sign of the Cross
is the victorious arm which disperses them, and in saying it, I am only the echo of universal tradition
and daily experience.
“When you make the Sign of the Cross,” says St. Chrysostom, “remember what the Cross
signifies, and you shall appease anger and all the inordinate motions of the soul.”11
Origen adds:
Such is the power of the Sign of the Cross, that if you place it before your eyes, if you keep it
faithfully in your heart, neither concupiscence, nor voluptuousness, nor fury can resist it; at its
appearance, the whole army of flesh and sin take flight.12
The second attacks are exterior. Not a creature escapes the malignant influence of Satan, and he
makes them all the instruments of his implacable hatred against man. This is, as I have already
demonstrated, an article of belief among mankind. What weapon has God given (for He has given one)
to free them, and by freeing them, to preserve our souls and bodies from the fatal injuries of him who
is justly styled the great Homicide, Homicida ab initio? All Catholic generations rise from their tombs
to cry out to me: “It is the Sign of the Cross. All those, now living in the five divisions of the globe,
join their voice to that of their ancestors and repeat: It is the Sign of the Cross.”
Impenetrable buckler, impregnable tower, special defense against the demons, universal weapon,
equally powerful against the visible and the invisible enemy, weapon easy for the weak, gratuitous for
the poor: — such is, as we have seen, the definition which both the living and the dead give us of the
adorable sign. Hence two great truths; the subjection of all creatures to the demons, and the power of
9 De vit. S. Anton.
10 Ibid.
11 De ador. pret. cruc., n. 3.
12 Origen, Comm. in epist. ad Rom. lib. vi. n. 6.
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the Sign of the Cross to free them, and prevent them from injuring us. From these two truths, so deeply
felt; these truths, ever ancient, yet ever new, arise two facts incontestably logical. The first, the
constant use of exorcisms in the Catholic Church; the second, the incessant use of the Sign of the Cross
among the primitive Christians.
What is the meaning of exorcism? The faith of the Church applied to the servitude of creatures to
the Demon. What does exorcism operate? The deliverance of creatures. Then, as there is not a creature
that the Catholic Church does not exorcise, the result is that, in her eyes, the universe in all its parts is a
great captive, possessed by the Demon, an immense engine of war directed against us. What, in its
turn, was the Sign of the Cross among the early Christians? A continual exorcism. If, with the Church,
and mankind, we admit that all creatures are subject to the Demon, that they serve as vehicles for his
malignant influence; that at every hour, every instant, every action, man comes in contact with them;
what more reasonable than the constant use of an arm, ever and always necessary?
Thus, then, the continual use of the Sign of the Cross among our ancestors announces a profound
philosophy. They knew dualism, the great law of the moral world, in all its formidable extent. They
understood that the attack, being universal and incessant, it was necessary, in order to preserve an
equilibrium, that the defense also should be universal and incessant. Again, what is more reasonable?
They then made the Sign of the Cross on each of their senses. Do you wish to know why? The senses
are the doors of the soul; they serve as intermediary between it and creatures. Once that they are
marked with the Sign of the Cross, creatures can no longer enter into communication with the soul,
unless by passing through a sanctified medium, in which they lose their fatal influences.
But this was not enough for our forefathers. They made the Sign of the Cross on everything that
they used, and even, as far as in their power, on every part of creation. Houses, furniture, doors,
fountains, boundaries of fields, pillars of edifices, ships, bridges, medals, flags, helmets, shields, rings;
all were marked with the adorable sign. Prevented by their occupations, or by distance of place, from
repeating it everywhere and always, they rendered it permanent, as it were, by engraving, painting, or
sculpturing it on the creatures in the midst of which they passed their existence. A lightning-rod, a
trophy of victory; such, then, was the august sign. A divine lightning-rod, much more powerfully to
repulse the princes of the air with their incalculable malice, than the metallic rods placed on our houses
are to discharge the lightning clouds. A trophy of victory, attesting the triumph of the Incarnate Word
over the king of this world, as the columns raised by the vanquisher on the field of battle bear witness
to the defeat of the enemy.
From the heights of Constantinople let us, with St. Chrysostom, contemplate the world covered
with those divine lightning-rods, those trophies of victory. Says the eloquent patriarch:
More precious than the universe the Cross glitters on the diadems of emperors. Everywhere it is
present to my view. I find it among princes and subjects, men and women, virgins and married
people, slaves and freemen. All continually trace it on the noblest part of the body, the forehead,
where it shines like a column of glory. At the sacred table, it is there; in the ordination of priests, it
is there; in the mystical Supper of the Savior, it is there. It is drawn on every point of the horizon,
on the tops of houses, over public places, in inhabited parts and in deserts, on roads, on mountains,
in woods, on hills, on the sea, on the masts of ships, on islands, on windows, over doors, on the
necks of Christians, on beds, garments, books, arms, and banquet-couches, in feasts, on gold and
silver vessels, on precious stones, on the pictures of the apartments.
It is made over sick animals, over those possessed by the Demon, in war, in peace, by day, by
night, in pleasant reunions, and in penitential assemblies. It is an honorable contest as to who shall
seek first the protection of this admirable sign.
What is there surprising in this? The Sign of the Cross is the type of our deliverance, the monument
of the liberation of mankind, the souvenir of the forbearance of our Lord. When you make it,
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remember what has been given for your ransom, and you will be the slave of no one. Make it, then,
not only with your fingers, but with your faith. If you thus engrave it on your forehead, no impure
spirit shall dare to stand before you. He sees the cutlass with which he has been wounded, the
sword from which he has received his death-blow. If at the sight of patibulary places we are seized
with horror, think what Satan and his angels must suffer at the sight of that weapon which was used
by the Eternal Word to weaken their power, and strike off the head of the dragon.13
Tomorrow, I will discuss the reflections produced by this ravishing spectacle, so eloquently
described.
________________
SEVENTEENTH LETTER
Summary — Nature of the Sign of the Cross — How it is valued at the present day — What the contempt and forgetfulness
of the Sign of the Cross announce — Spectacle of the present world — Satan returns — To remain faithful to the Sign of
the Cross — Principally before and after meals — Reason, honor, and liberty command it — Is reason for or against those
who make the Sign of the Cross over food? — Examples and arguments December 12th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
A universal weapon, an invincible weapon for man, lightning-conductor for creatures, souvenir of
man’s deliverance, and trophy of victory for the Word Redeemer: — such, my dear Frederic, was the
Sign of the Cross in the eyes of the first Christians. Thence came the use they made of it, the
sentiments with which it inspired them, and the magnificent spectacle we have just witnessed. Have we
retained the faith of our forefathers? What is the Sign of the Cross to the Christians of the nineteenth
century? What use do they make of it, either for themselves or for creatures? Are the sentiments of
faith, confidence, respect, gratitude and love which it awakens in them lively, or even real? And among
those who do make it, do not the greater part make it without knowing what they are doing, without
attaching to it either any great value, or any considerable importance? How many are there who no
longer make it? How many who are ashamed to do so? How many, even, who do not like to see it
made? They have removed it from the tops of their houses, banished it out of their apartments, and
effaced it from their furniture. They have caused it to disappear from the public places and walks of
their cities; from the gardens and parks of their villas; from the roads of their villages; from the greater
part of the places in which our forefathers erected it. They have broken the crosses!
What means this? What do such symptoms announce? Do you wish to know? Re-ascend to that
principle which throws light on all history. Two contrary spirits dispute between them the empire of
the world; the spirit of good, and the spirit of evil. All that is done is by divine inspiration or by satanic
inspiration. The institution of the Sign of the Cross, the incessant use of the Sign of the Cross, the
confidence in the Sign of the Cross, the omnipotent virtue attributed to the Sign of the Cross — are
they the result of a divine or a satanic inspiration? It must be either one or the other. If of satanic
inspiration, then the élite of humanity, who alone make the Sign of the Cross, have for more than
eighteen centuries been struck with incurable blindness, while all those who do not belong to the élite
of humanity have been in full possession of the light; this would be to say that the near-sighted, those
blind of an eye or totally blind, see more clearly than those who have two good eyes. Do you think
there is a pride so desperate as to advance such a paradox, an incredulity so strong as to sustain it? But
if it is by divine inspiration that the Sign of the Cross is practiced, repeated, cherished and regarded as
13 Quod Christus sit Deus, app. t. i. p. 697, edit. Paris altera; id in Matth. homil. 54. app. t. vii. p. 620, et in c. iii. ad Phillip.
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the invincible, universal, permanent, and necessary weapon of mankind, what shall we think of a world
that no longer understands the Sign of the Cross, that no longer makes it, that despises it, is ashamed of
it, no longer salutes it, wishes it no longer in its sight, or under the face of its sun?
Unless human nature is radically changed, and dualism but a chimera; unless Satan has withdrawn
from the combat; unless creatures have ceased to be the medium of his fatal influence, the Christian of
today, the despiser of the Sign of the Cross, is but an unworthy scion of a noble race. The nineteenth
century is a foolish rationalist, who understands neither the combat, nor the conditions of the combat; a
presumptuous soldier who, after having broken his weapon and thrown aside his armor, casts himself
blindly, with his arms bound and his breast bared, into the midst of swords and lances; modern society
is a dismantled city, surrounded by innumerable enemies, impatient to reduce it to ruins and put the
garrison to the sword.
To reduce it to ruins? But is it not already a ruin? A ruin of belief, ruin of morals, ruin of
authority, ruin of tradition, ruin of the fear of God and of conscience, ruin of virtue, probity,
mortification, obedience, the spirit of sacrifice, resignation, and hope — on all sides, ruin either
commenced or consummated.
In public and in private life, in city and in country, in him who governs, and those who are
governed, in the order of ideas and the dominion of facts, how many men or things remain truly and
sincerely Catholic?
In this, dear Frederic, there is nothing that ought to astonish us. Take away the Sign of the Cross,
and all shall be explained. The less of the Sign of the Cross in the world, the more of Satan. The Sign
of the Cross is the lightning-rod of the world; remove it, and the thunderbolt falls which shall burn and
crush you.
The Sign of the Cross is a trophy which attests the dominion of the victor. To break it, is to give
joy to the ancient enemy of mankind, and prepare the way for his return. Listen to what was written
seventeen centuries ago by one of those men who best understood the mysterious power of the Sign of
the Cross. I mean that martyr, illustrious among all others, St. Ignatius, of Antioch. Contemplate that
white-haired bishop, loaded with chains, traveling four hundred leagues to be devoured by lions under
the eyes of the great city of Rome. See him, as calm as if standing at the altar, as joyful as if going to a
feast; sowing, on his way, instruction and encouragement to the churches of Asia, which hasten to
meet him in his passage. In his admirable letter to the Christians of Philippi, he says: “The prince of
this world rejoices when he sees any one abandon the Cross. He knows it is the Cross that brings death
to him, for it is the weapon destructive to his power. The sight of it horrifies him, the name frightens
him. Before it was made, he neglected no means of having it constructed, and to this work he incited
the children of unbelief, Judas, the Pharisees, the Sadducees, the old, the young, and the priests. But
when he saw it on the point of being completed, he was troubled. He excited remorse in the soul of the
traitor, presented him with the rope, and tempted him to hang himself. He troubled Pilate’s wife by a
painful dream and made every effort to prevent the construction of the Cross. Not because he had
remorse; if he had felt it, he would not have been wholly bad; but he had a presentiment of his defeat.
He was not deceived. The Cross is the principle of his condemnation, the principle of his death, the
principle of his ruin.”
Thence come two teachings; horror and fear of the Demon at the sight of the Cross and the Sign of
the Cross; and his joy at the absence of both one and the other. If he sees a soul or a country without
the Sign of the Cross, he enters it fearlessly, and remains there at his ease. As inevitably as darkness
succeeds light after the setting of the sun, so inevitably does he there re-establish his empire. The
present world is a sensible proof of it.
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I do not speak of that deluge of denials, impieties, and unheard-of blasphemies with which it is
inundated. What are (for those who are not satisfied with words) those millions of table-turnings, those
spirit-rappings or familiar spirits, those apparitions, incantations, oracles, medical consultations, and
pretended conversations with the dead, which have so suddenly invaded the old and new world?1
Are these things new? No; mankind has already seen them. At what epoch? When the Sign of the
Cross did not protect mankind, and Satan was the king, the god of society. By reappearing today in a
degree unknown since ancient paganism, what do they signify, if not that the Sign of the Cross, ceasing
now to protect the world, Satan is retaking possession of it.
You see, dear friend, how little intelligence have those who abandon the Sign of the Cross. Let us
pity, but not imitate them.
There is one circumstance, in particular, in which we must invariably separate ourselves from
them. With us, as with our forefathers, the Sign of the Cross before and after meals must be a sacred
duty. Reason, honor, and liberty demand it.
Reason. If you ask your companions why they do not make the Sign of the Cross before taking
food, each will answer: “I do not wish to make myself singular by doing differently from others: I do
not wish to be remarked and laughed at for observing a useless and obsolete practice.” They do not
wish to make themselves singular? For the sake of their honor, I will believe that they do not
understand the import of those words. To be singular, is to put one’s self in the singular number, to
isolate one’s self, and to act differently from everybody else. In this sense we may very well be
singular without being ridiculous. One is sometimes obliged to be so, under pain of being guilty. A
reasonable man, who, in a madhouse, performs sensible actions; an honest man, who, in a land of
thieves, respects the property of others, are both singular — are they ridiculous? To be singular, in the
sense in which your companions understand it, is to differ ridiculously from established usages. It
remains to be seen, whether by making the Sign of the Cross before and after meals, we make
ourselves singular, and this in a ridiculous manner. “Without doubt,” answer they, “since you act
differently from others.”
But there are others and others. There are others who make the Sign of the Cross; and others who
do not make it. Therefore, by making it we are no more singular than by not making it, we remain
perfectly in the plural. Are we ridiculous? To answer this, it suffices to see who are the others who
make, and the others who do not make, the Sign of the Cross.
The others who make it are you and I, your respected family and mine; and we are not alone.
Behind us, around us, beside us, are the true, learned and courageous Catholics who have lived in the
East and West during eighteen centuries. Now, as we have seen, those Catholics, neither more nor less,
have formed the élite of mankind. We are so far from being ridiculous by remaining in such company,
1 At the time in which we are writing, there is an unparalleled recrudescence of occult practices. In Paris, Spiritualism has
formed numerous associations, which have their regular meetings. Besides many books, they have three special papers to
serve as their periodical organs. Metz and Bordeaux, you may be sure, contain many thousand Spiritualists. In Lyons there
are at least fifteen thousand, with a journal, in which they pretend that the religion of Spirit-rapping is to be the religion of
the future. What does all this mean? Simply, that after eighteen centuries of Christianity, there are in France thousands of
idolaters, who either ignorantly or designedly do what was done two thousand years ago at Delphi, at
Dodona, at Sinope, and all the cities of pagan antiquity. Things have arrived to
such a state that many bishops have been obliged to warn the clergy and faithful
of their dioceses against this usurpation of Satan.
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that we become perfectly so by separating ourselves from them. Except for those who are satisfied
with words, and who would wish to satisfy others with the same, this proposition is indisputable.
Nothing is more fully established than that the élite of mankind have always made the Sign of the
Cross before meals. The Fathers whom I have quoted, Tertullian, St. Cyril, St. Ephrem, and St. John
Chrysostom, leave us no doubt as to the universality of this religious practice among the Christians of
the primitive Church. To these, I will add a few others. St Athanasius says:
When we sit down to table, and take the bread to break it, we make the Sign of the Cross over it
three times, and return thanks. After the repast, we renew our thanksgiving by saying thrice: “The
good and merciful Lord has given food to those that fear Him. Glory be to the Father, etc.”2
And St. Jerome: “Let no one ever sit at table without having prayed, and let him never leave it
without having given thanks to the Creator.”3
St. Chrysostom brands, as they deserve to be, those who dispense themselves from this sacred law
of wisdom and gratitude. “We must pray before and after meals. Hear this, ye swine who nourish
yourselves with the gifts of God, without raising your eyes to the hand that gives them.”4
The blessing of the table by the Sign of the Cross was in use not only in families and in private
life; the soldiers in their camps observed it with religious fidelity. On this point, St. Gregory Nazianzen
relates a fact which is still famous.
Julian the Apostate was rewarding his troops by an extraordinary distribution of money and
provisions. Near the emperor was placed a lighted perfume pan, into which each soldier cast a few
grains of incense. The Christian soldiers did like the others, never suspecting that by it they rendered
themselves guilty of an act of idolatry. The distribution being over, the soldiers reassembled for the
feast of the prince. At the beginning of the banquet, the cup was presented to a Christian soldier, who,
according to custom, blessed it by the Sign of the Cross. Suddenly a voice was heard, saying: “What
you are now doing is in contradiction to what you have just done.” “What have I done?” “Have you,
then, forgotten the incense and the perfume pan? Do you not know that you have performed an act of
idolatry, and denied your faith?” At these words, he and his brave companions-in-arms arose from the
table, and sighing, groaning and tearing their hair, they rushed out, declaring aloud that they were
Christians, accusing the Emperor of having deceived them, and demanding another trial, that they
might confess their faith. The Apostate ordered them to be arrested, bound, condemned, and led to the
place of execution. But not wishing to make them martyrs, he commuted the sentence of death into that
of exile to the farthest parts of the empire.5
Whenever a priest was among the guests, on him was conferred the honor of making the Sign of
the Cross over the food.6
The blessing at table was regarded as so holy a practice that, in the ninth century, we find the
Bulgarians, converted to the faith, asking Pope Nicholas I if a layman might take the place of a priest
in performing this function. “Without doubt,” answered the Pope, “for it has been given to each one to
preserve, by the Sign of the Cross, all that belongs to him from the snares of the Demon, and in the
name of our Lord Jesus Christ, to triumph over his attacks.”7
2 De Virginit., n. 13.
3 Epist. xxii. ad Eustoch., De Custod. Virginit.
4 Homil. 82, in Matth., n. 2. t. vii., p. 885; id Homil. 49, in id. n. 2. p. 569, edit. novi.
5 Orat. I. Contr. Julian; Theodoret, Hist., lib. iii. c. 16.
6 See D. Ruinart, Acts of the Martyrdom of S. Theodota.
7 Rep. ad consult. Bulgar.
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Succeeding ages have seen the use of the Sign of the Cross before and after meals, among the true
Catholics of the East and West; you know that it still exists.
We know the others that make the Sign of the Cross before meals. Let us see who are the others
that do not make it, and to whom your young companions give the preference.
Pagans do not make it; Jews do not make it; heretics do not make it; atheists do not make it; bad
Catholics do not make it; ignorant Catholics, or those enslaved by human respect, do not make it.
Behold those others who do not make the Sign of the Cross, and who laugh at those who do: on
which side is the ridiculous singularity?
In my next letter I shall follow up this objection.
________________
EIGHTEENTH LETTER.
Honor commands us to pray before and after meals — Prayer over food is as ancient
as the world, as wide-spread as the human race — Proofs: Benedicite and Grace of
every people — Not to say them is to liken ourselves to beings which do not
belong to the human species — The blessing at table is a law of humanity
December 13th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
Honor is a second motive for remaining faithful to the ancient custom of making the Sign of the
Cross before and after meals. Your companions, on the contrary, seem to think it honorable to abstain
from it. They say: “I do not wish to be remarked and laughed at.” Let us pass to the examination of this
new pretext.
First: reason, as we have seen, condemns the scorners of the Sign of the Cross, consequently
honor cannot absolve them. Honor is never on the side of unreasonableness. They add that they do not
wish to be remarked. Impossible! whatever they do, they are remarked. I do not believe them so
unfortunate as never to find themselves at table with true Catholics. But, then, they make themselves
necessarily remarked, and very sadly, I assure you.
It is true, since they say it, that this is a matter of indifference to them. Is this haughty disdain
well-founded? Here recurs the question already resolved of others and others. As to the mockery of
which they are afraid, it follows the remark; only, with the true Catholic, it is turned into pity.
Nevertheless, in contenting myself with exposing your companions and their fellows to the remarks of
Catholics, I have been indulgent. You shall see that in abstaining from prayer before taking their
meals, under pretext of not making themselves remarkable, they disgrace themselves before all
mankind. Follow me. He who disgraces himself in the sight of every one, is the man who voluntarily
places himself in the rank of beasts.
Until now, there was but one class of beings that ate without praying. Now we know of two —
beasts, and those that resemble them. I say that resemble them, for between a dog, and a man that eats
without praying, what is the difference? As for me, I see none; neither does the Academy of Science.
A biped or a quadruped, sitting or lying, murmuring, chattering, or growling, they have, one as
well as the other, hands or paws, eyes, heart and teeth sunk into matter, stupidly devouring their food
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without raising their heads toward the hand that gives it. The man, who acts thus, degrades himself
from the class of human beings; as a beast, he sits at table, a beast, he remains there, a beast, he leaves
it.
My propositions seem to you too absolute, and you exclaim: “Is it really true, as you say, that
before our time there were known only beasts, oxen, asses, mules, swine, oysters, crocodiles, that ate
without praying?” Nothing is more certain. PRAYER OVER FOOD IS AS ANCIENT AS THE
WORLD; AS WIDESPREAD AS MANKIND.
From all antiquity, we find it among the Jews. “When thou hast eaten, and art full,” says the
Mosaic law, “bless the Lord.”1 Behold prayer over food! Faithful to this divine ordinance, the Jews,
while eating, observed the following ceremonies. The father of the family, surrounded by his children,
said:
“Blessed be the Lord our God, whose goodness gives food to all flesh.” Then, taking a cup of wine
in his right hand, he blessed it, saying: “Blessed be the Lord our God, who has created the fruit of the
vine.” He first tasted it, and then passed it to his guests, who also tasted it. Then followed the blessing
of the bread. Taking it all between his hands, the father of the family said: “Praised and blessed be the
Lord our God, who has drawn bread from the earth.” He then broke the bread, ate a piece, and gave
some to his guests. It was only then that the meal began. When they changed the wine or brought in
new dishes, a particular blessing was made over each, so that every kind of nourishment was purified
and consecrated. The meal being ended, they sang a hymn of thanksgiving.2
All these rites are so much the more venerable, as they have been consecrated by the Son of God
Himself. Nothing could more clearly prove their importance. What did the adorable Teacher of
mankind, at His last Supper, when he ate the Paschal Lamb with His disciples? What did He, when,
after Supper, He sang with them a hymn of thanksgiving? Et hymno dicto exierunt in montem Oliveti?
He religiously conformed Himself to the usages of the holy nation. He took the cup, blessed it, and
passed it to each of the guests.3
In how many other cases do we see the Eternal Model of man, praying before taking or giving
food! He breaks the bread, divides the fishes, and distributes them among the people. Having taken the
five loaves and two fishes, He raised His eyes to Heaven and blessed them.4
All these expressions, according to the Fathers, show the blessing of the food. The Incarnate Word
made it in order to teach us never to eat without the blessing and thanksgiving.5 Is it then surprising
that we find the blessing at table in use among the first Christians? Were not the examples of the God-
Man the rule of their conduct? Did the apostles do anything else but recollect them constantly?
“With us,” says Polydore Vergil, “the custom is to bless the table before meals; this is done in
imitation of our Lord. The Gospel relates that He conformed Himself to this custom, when in the desert
He blessed the five loaves, and at Emmaus, the table of the two disciples.”6
Tertullian says: “Prayer begins and ends the meal.”7
1 Deut. viii. 10.
2 Stuckius, Antiq. convivial., lib. ii., c. 36. p. 436. ed. in folio, 1695.
3 Luke xxii. 17.
4 Mark viii., Matth. xiv.
5 Theophylact, in Matth. xiv.
6 Apud Stuckius, p. 428.
7 Apol. iii. 9.
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I might also quote St. Chrysostom, St. Jerome, Origen, both the Latin and Greek Fathers;8 but the
fact not being disputed, why should I multiply testimonies? I will only add that we have the Benedicite
and Grace of the first Christians in the magnificent verses of Prudentius: Christi prius Genitore potens,
etc.
These hymns are another proof of the exactitude with which our ancestors conformed themselves
to the example of our Lord, as He himself conformed to the usage of the ancient Jews, and they to the
command of God Himself.
We have them also in prose. See these monuments of our thrice-venerable antiquity.
Before meals:
O Thou who givest food to all that breathe, deign to bless the food we are about to take. Thou hast
said that if we should ever drink any poisonous thing, we should receive no injury thereby,
provided we would invoke thy name, for thou art all-powerful. Take away, then, from this food all
that is dangerous and hurtful in it.9
After meals:
Blessed be thou, O Lord our God, who hast nourished us since our infancy, and with us all that
breathe. Fill our hearts with joy, that we may abound in all kinds of good works, through Jesus
Christ our Lord, to whom, with Thee and the Holy Ghost, be glory, honor and power. Amen. 10
These formulas, so profoundly philosophical, as we shall soon see, have been handed down for
ages. Whether modified or not, they have remained in use to our time. Notwithstanding their hostility
to the Church, many Protestants have retained them.
Even to this day, a great many families in Germany and England never take their meals without
praying. What will appear still stranger to you is that the blessing of the table is found among pagan
nations. Yes, my dear Frederic, the Romans and Greeks, those obliging models of our college youth,
made religiously that which your companions, their disciples and admirers, are ashamed to do. “Never
did the ancients,” says Athenæus, “take their meals without having first implored their gods.”11
Speaking of the Egyptians in particular, he adds:
Having taken their places on the banquet-couches, they arose, knelt down, and the chief of the
banquet or the priest began the traditional prayers, which they recited after him; after that they
resumed their places. 12
The same thing among the Romans. Speaking of an order for the assassination of a man, given by
the Consul Quintius Flaminius during a banquet to please a courtesan, Titus Livy thus expresses
himself: “This monstrous act was committed in the midst of vessels filled with wine; in the midst of a
repast, when it is the custom to pray to the gods, and offer libations.”13
You are aware that those libations were a form of prayer, known everywhere and very frequently
repeated. The Romans, for example, made them at almost every hour of the day; when they arose in
the morning; when they retired at night; when going on a journey; in the sacrifices, at marriages, at the
beginning and end of meals. Those ancient masters of the world never touched food until they had
8 See Duranti, De ritibus Ecc1. Cath. lib. ii. p. 658. Edit. 1592.
9 See Mamachi: Customs of Primitive Christians, t. ii. p. 47, Origen., in Joan, p. 36.
10 Stuckius, ubi supra. p. 129.
11 Dipnosophis, lib. iv.
12 Ibid. lib. iv.
13 Decad. iv. lib. ix.
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consecrated a part to their divinities. The portion thus retrenched from the banquet was placed on an
altar, or a vase patella, which took the place of it. This was their Benedicite and their Grace.
Remarkable perpetuity of tradition! We have seen that, among the Jews, the blessing was renewed
at the changing of the wine, and at each new dish. The same was the custom of the Romans. At the
second course there were particular libations to the gods whom they believed to preside at table. Each
guest poured out on the table, or the floor, a little of the wine in his cup, and recited certain prayers to
the gods.14
The Greeks had served as models to the Romans. Among them are found the same frequency and
the same custom of libations at the beginning and end of the meal; the same particular prayers at
changing the wine. “Each time,” says Diodorus of Sicily, “that they gave pure wine to the guests, the
ancient custom was to say: ‘The gift of the good Spirit;’ and when, at the end of the meal, they gave
wine mixed with water, they said: ‘The Gift of Jupiter Savior,’ because pure wine is as contrary to the
health of the soul as to that of the body.”15
They were not satisfied with particular Grace: they had also a general one, which ended the meal,
in which they addressed Jupiter, Jovis servatoris.16
The custom of blessing the food was so much respected, among the Pagans, that it gave rise to the
following proverb: “Do not draw out of the caldron the unsanctified food. Ne a chytropode ciburn
nondurn sanctificaturn rapias.”
“This proverb,” says Erasmus, “signifies, Do not throw yourself on food, like a beast, and eat only
after having offered the first fruits to the gods.” In fact, among the ancients, according to Plutarch, the
repasts, even daily ones, were reckoned among the number of sacred things. For this reason the guests
consecrated the first part to the gods, testifying, by their deportment, that the act of eating was for them
a mysterious and holy thing.17
Again, at the celebrated banquet of the suburbs of Antioch, Julian the Apostate, in order to renew
publicly the chain of pagan tradition, took care to have the tables blessed by a priest of Apollo.18 In
this, the barbarians imitated civilized nations. During their meals, the Vandals handed around a cup
consecrated to their gods by certain formulas.19
In India, the king never tasted any dish which had not first been consecrated to the Demon.
Notwithstanding the difference of manners, civilization and climate, the inhabitants of the Frigid
zone had the same practice as those of the Torrid. The ancient Lithuanians, Samogitians, and other
northern barbarians, called on the demons to sanctify their tables, and they came. In a corner of their
huts they kept familiar serpents. On certain days they caused them to go up on the table by means of a
white table cloth: they tasted of every dish, and then returned into their holes. The meats were
considered sanctified, and the barbarians ate of them without any fear.20
The blessing of the table is equally found among the Turks and modern Jews. Faithful to the
traditions of their ancestors, the latter even preserve the custom of saying many prayers during meals.
14 Dict. of Antiq., art. “Libations.”
15 Lib. iv.
16 Id. lib. ii.
17 Apud. Stuckius, p. 431.
18 Sozomen. Hist., lib. 3. c. 4.
19 Crantz, lib. iii. Vandal., c. 37.
20 Stuckius, p. 431.
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Thus, when they bring fruits they say: “Blessed be the Lord our God, who has created the fruit of the
trees.” At dessert: “Blessed be the Lord our God, who has created different kinds of food.”21
Gross as they are, the people of Indo-China, of China and Tibet, are no exception to the general
custom, which I am confident might be found to exist even among the most degraded savages of
Africa. Writes a missionary in China:
We arrived at the great pagoda of Ouen-chou-yuen, a little before eleven o’clock. It was just the
time when the bonzes sat down to table. Behold the spectacle of which we became the
witnesses. In a vast refectory, ninety bonzes were seated back to back, before a long and very
narrow table; with their hands joined, their eyes constantly fixed on the floor, they sang together
some words which none of us could understand. This prayer lasted more than ten minutes. The
chief bonze was in the center behind a gilded idol, praying and sitting like the others, but alone
before a small table, somewhat raised above the others, on a platform, whence he had a view of
the whole assembly. In the middle of the refectory, and facing the idol, was another bonze
dressed in yellow, who offered to the god a bowl full of rice. Prayer being ended, he who
offered the rice placed it under the chin of the god. Then the servants hastened to fill the dishes
on the different tables. None of the guests moved. The chief bonze gave the signal, and all fell
to work. In an instant they had devoured a large number of buckets of rice, in true tavern
fashion, and that was all.22
Behold the Benedicite in its most solemn form. In this manner was it said by the first Christians; in
this manner is it still said in seminaries and religious communities: — what a clever ape Satan is!
As I have already said, you see, dear friend, that prayer before and after meals is as ancient as the
world, as widespread as the human race. If, then, the existence of a law is recognized by the
permanency of its effects; if, for example, a man, by seeing the sun rise every morning at a particular
point of the horizon, is warranted in saying that a law regulates its movements; have I, then, less reason
to affirm that the blessing of the food is a law of humanity?
To observe it, is to do like the rest of mankind. Not to observe it, is to act like beasts, which do not
belong to the human species. It is literally to liken one’s self to a beast.23
You may ask your companions if honor here finds its reckoning. We shall soon come to the
explanation of that law which commands the blessing of the table.
________________
21 Stuckius, ubi supra; et c. x:xviii. Delibationibus ante et post epulas.
22 Annals of Prop. of Faith, n. 95, p. 340, A. D. 1844.
23 Ps. 48.
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NINETEENTH LETTER
The Sign of the Cross is a guide that conducts us — Necessity of a guide — State
of man here below — The Sign of the Cross conducts man to his end by remembrance,
and by imitation — Remembrance which it recalls — General remembrance —
Particular remembrance — Particular imitation December 15th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
“It is only crocodiles that eat without praying.” Such, you will say to me, dear friend, is the axiom
which summed up your last letter.
Your words shall remain.
“My comrades,” you add, “have been beaten down, as you say in France, by the facts you have
related, facts perfectly new to them. Notwithstanding all this, they do not, today any more than
yesterday, make the Sign of the Cross before and after their meals. The only difference is that I may
make it with impunity: they are afraid of my axiom.”
These details do not surprise me. Your companions and their associates, like many other great
talkers about liberty and independence, are slaves — slaves of the vilest of tyrants, human respect.
Poor young men! In order to conceal their slavery, they end their objections by saying: “The Sign of
the Cross is a useless and obsolete practice.” In their intimate thoughts, this language signifies:
All those who do not eat as we do, that is, like beasts, belong to a more or less respectable species
of blockheads; priests and religious are blockheads; true Catholics of every nation, blockheads; the
Jews, Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, blockheads; the é1ite of humanity, blockheads; the whole of
humanity, blockheads; my father, mother, sisters, all are blockheads. I, and those like me, are the
only wise ones on Earth, the only enlightened ones among mortals.
I must then tear off the mask with which they try to cover themselves. For this, it suffices to show
that the blessing at table with the Sign of the Cross is an act of freedom, an act very useful, an act out
of fashion only in the lowest ranks of modern Christianity. Joined to reason and honor, this last
consideration fully justifies our conduct, at the same time that it gives an account of the universal
practice of mankind.
Freedom. Three tyrants dispute the liberty of man; yours and mine as well as that of your
companions. Those tyrants are the world, the flesh, and the Devil. It is in order that we be not enslaved
by any of them that we, and all mankind with us, make use of the blessing of the table. We have seen,
and I repeat it, that not to make the Sign of the Cross before we eat is to separate ourselves from the
élite of mankind; not to pray, is to liken ourselves to beasts. In either case, it is to be slaves.
Submission to despotic power is what constitutes slavery. Despotic power is that which has no
right to command, or which commands against reason, against justice, against authority. What, then, is
that power which prevents me from making the Sign of the Cross before my meals; and, if I be so
courageous as to disobey, threatens me with its scorn? What authority has that power? From whom
does it hold its commission? And what are the titles which recommend it to my obedience, the reasons
which justify its prohibition? This usurping power is the world of the present day: a world unknown in
the annals of Christian ages, the world of drawing-rooms, theatres, cafés, hôtels, stock-jobbing and
exchange; it is the customs of this world, the impiety of this world, the gross materialism of this world,
the Boeotia of the intellect. Now this minority, born yesterday and already decrepit; this factious
minority, in continual insurrection against reason, honor and mankind, has the insolence to impose its
caprices on me! And shall I be base enough to submit? And after having taken my divorce from
reason, honor, and the élite of mankind, shall I dare to speak of liberty, dignity, and independence?
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Vain parade! Beneath the gilded tinsel of pride would pierce the chains of slavery; my tattered disguise
would but poorly conceal the figure of the beast, and good sense would follow me, repeating: “Midas,
King Midas has ass’s ears.” Let the independents of our day be flattered by such a compliment; it is
their own affair. As for us blockheads, we do not want it at any price. Shameful is the slavery of the
world; more shameful that of vice. Ingratitude is a vice, gluttony is a vice, impurity is a vice. Against
these tyrants we are protected by the Sign of the Cross, and prayer before and after meals.
Ingratitude. There are at the present day two religions: that of respect, and that of contempt. The
first respects God, the Church, authority, tradition, the soul, the body, and creatures. To it, all is sacred,
because all comes from God, all belongs to God, all must return to God. It teaches me to use
everything in the spirit of dependence, because nothing is mine; in the spirit of fear, because I shall
have to render an account of all; in the spirit of gratitude, because everything is a benefit, even the air I
breathe. The second despises everything;
God, the Church, authority, tradition, the soul, the body, and creatures. Its sectaries use and abuse
life and the gifts of God, as if they were the proprietors of them, and proprietors wholly irresponsible.
The first has inscribed on its banner the word “Gratitude,” the second, “Ingratitude.” Both one and the
other show themselves at the moment in which man, by manducation, assimilates to himself the divine
gifts necessary for life. Faithful to the religion of respect, the élite of humanity pray and return thanks.
They have too keen a sense of their dignity to confound themselves with beasts; too lively a sense of
duty to remain mute when they see themselves loaded with so many gifts. If ingratitude in regard to
man be odious, they, with good reason, find it a thousand times more so in regard to God.
To be the slaves of such a vice is a disgrace which they cannot endure. Shame on him for whom
gratitude is a burden too heavy to bear; the ungrateful heart was never a good heart. An adept in the
religion of contempt is ashamed of gratitude. He eats like the beast, or like an unnatural son, who has
neither in his heart a sentiment of tenderness, nor on his lips an expression of gratitude for the father
whose inexhaustible goodness provides for all his wants, and even for his pleasures.
“Do you see that child, so tenderly raised,” says an illustrious Chancellor of England, “him, who,
seated at his father’s table, eats his bread without ever speaking of him; often outrages him by words,
and who, as soon as filled, turns his back on him as on a stranger to whom he owes nothing?”1 And
because he exempts himself from duty, he believes himself to be free! He proclaims himself
independent! Independent of whom, and of what? Independent of all that should be hated and despised.
A glorious independence, truly!
Gluttony. Another tyrant, who, seated at table with us, and by the viands, captivating the sight,
taste and smell, prostrates man in adoration before the god of the belly. His mouth, instead of speaking
from the abundance of the heart, speaks only of his stomach. It is the taste of food which he seeks, and
not its repairing quality. He does not eat that he may live; he lives that he may eat. In the meantime,
organism develops its empire; the intellect is darkened, the soul becomes enslaved. Good cheer is
incompatible with wisdom. A great man was never a glutton; all the saints have been models of
sobriety.2
Take notice, dear friend, that I speak only of the gluttony which seeks rich food, of delicacy in the
choice, and greediness and sensuality in eating. Too frequently it is followed by intemperance. Now
1 Th. Morus, ap Duranti, De ritibus, etc. lib. ii. p. 659.
2 Job xxviii. 13.
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intemperance is attended by such a train of infirmities and diseases, that gluttony kills more men than
the sword: Plures accidit crapula quam gladius.3
Therefore, Nebuchadnezzar, Pharaoh, Alexander, Cæsar, Tamerlane, and all those crowned
persecutors who covered the world with dead bodies, have caused the death of fewer men than has
gluttony. Frightful mystery, which shows what profound wisdom there is in the Sign of the Cross and
prayer before and after meals! By these we call God to our help, and arm ourselves against a perfidious
enemy, which attacks all ages, sexes, and conditions, and which tends to enslave us to the grossest
instincts. By them we learn that eating is a warfare, and that, in order not to be vanquished, we must,
according to the words of a great genius, take our food as we take remedies, through necessity, and not
for pleasure.4
Impurity. Commenced by gluttony, the slavery of the soul ends by impurity. — Whoever feeds his
flesh with delicacies, shall suffer its most shameful revolt. — The fat and plump slave will resist. —
Wine is a luxurious beverage. — In wine is luxury. — Pure wine is as contrary to the health of the soul
as to that of the body. — Drunk inconsiderately, it foams voluptuousness. — In the stomach of a
young man, wine is oil to the fire.
— Gluttony is the mother of luxury, the executioner of chastity. — To be greedy, yet expect to be
chaste, is to wish to quench a fire with oil. — Gluttony is the extinguisher of the intellect. — The
glutton is an idolater; he adores the god of the belly. The temple of this god is the kitchen; his altar, the
table; his priests, the cooks; his victim, the dishes; his incense, the odor of the viands. — This temple is
the school of impurity. — Bacchus and Venus go hand in hand. — Gluttony always attacks us; if it
triumph, it immediately calls in its sister Luxury. — Gluttony and Luxury are two inseparable demons.
— A multitude of dishes and bottles draws a multitude of impure spirits: the worst of all is the
demon of the belly. — The physical and moral health of the people may be judged from the number of
the cooks.5
You have heard the oracles of divine and profane wisdom. It is the voice of ages confirmed by
experience. What means has man for preserving his liberty in the face of an enemy, so much the more
dangerous, because he binds and kills while he flatters? The past and present know only one; it is the
help of God. The future shall know no other.
The help of God is obtained by prayer. One special prayer has been established and practiced
among all nations, to fortify man against the temptations of the table. Those who make it are not
always victorious.6 And those who never make it, who despise it, who scoff at it, would wish to
persuade us that they always remain masters of the battlefield. In order to believe them, it is necessary
to have other proof than words; we must have facts. These facts are their morals. Let them, then, bring
3 Eccles. 31:23; 37:34.
4 S. Aug., Confess., lib. x. c. 31.
5 Luxuriosa res vinum, Prov. xx. i. — Gula genitrix est luxuriæ et castitatis carnifex. (S. Hier., Regul. monach., c. xxxv.)
Qui ventri diem obsequitur, fornicationis spiritum vincere vult, is ei similis est, qui oleo incendium extinguere nititur. (S.
Joan. Clim., Grad.. xiv.) — Deo ventri templurn, est coquina; altare, inensa; ministri, coqui, imrnolatæ pecudes, coctæ
carnes; fumus incensorum, odor saporum. (Hug. a. S. Vict., De claustr. anim., lib. ii. c. 19.) Esus carnium et potus vini,
ventrisque saturitas, seminarium libidinus est: unde comicus, sine Cerere, iniquit, et Libero friget Venus. (S. Hier., ad
Jovin., lib. ii.) Immundi spiritus se moegis injiciunt, ubi plus viderint escarum et potuum. (S. Isidor. Hisp., De sum. bono, c.
xliv. sent. 3.) — Gula et Luxuria, conjurata dæmoniæ. (Tertull.) — Multos morbos, multa fercula ferunt: innumerabiles
esse morbos miraris? coquos nunicra. — (Seneca, Ep. xcv. etc. etc.)
6 S. Aug., Confess. lib. x. 31.
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to light the mysteries of their thoughts, their desires, their looks, their private discourses, their conduct.
But such a revelation is not necessary; we have it every week in the gazettes of scandal and public
immorality.
The demon. It is here that the stupid ignorance of the present world shows itself most plainly.
Without doubt the sacred duty of gratitude, as well as the imperative necessity of defending ourselves
against gluttony and voluptuousness, fully justifies the usage of the blessing at table. I dare affirm,
however, that there remains a reason more profound and more powerful. We have said it; there is a
dogma of which mankind has never lost the remembrance; that of the subjection of all creatures to the
prince of evil since his victory over the father of our race.
All nations have believed, as much as in the existence of God, that creatures, penetrated by the
malignant influences of the Demon, become the instruments of his hatred against man. Thence the
infinite variety of purifications employed in all religions, all ages, and all climates. But there is one
circumstance in which the use of those purifications is invariably shown; it is in the act of
manducation. The universality and invariability of this custom at meal time is founded on two facts.
The first, that the demon of the table is the most dangerous;7 the second, that the union operated by
manducation between man and his food is most intimate, reaching even to assimilation. Of the food
that he has digested, man may say: “It is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood.”
Behold why, creatures being vitiated, God has never permitted that man should lose sight of the
extreme danger of communication with them. That this universal fear is a deep reason of the existence
of the Sign of the Cross and of prayer over food, is proved even by the formulas of blessing and
thanksgiving. Christians or pagans, all without exception, ask the removal of the malevolent influences
with which creatures are filled.
Do you wish for something stronger, something that may be more convincing to your companions
than all the authorities drawn from the Church? Porphyrius, the greatest theologian of paganism, the
most learned interpreter of the rites and mysteries of ancient idolatry, says in characteristic terms:
It must be known that the dwellings are full of demons. This is why we purify them by expelling
those malevolent hosts, every time we pray to the gods. Moreover, all creatures are full of them, for
they particularly relish certain kinds of food. So when we sit at table, they not only place
themselves beside us, but also attach themselves to our bodies. Thence comes the use of lustrations,
the principal end of which is not so much to invoke the gods as to expel the demons. They take
delight principally in blood and impurities, and in order to satisfy themselves, enter into the bodies
of those who are subject to them. There is no violent motion in the flesh, no vehement desire of lust
in the spirit, which is not excited by the presence of those hosts.8
Is it St. Paul whom we have just heard? We might believe it, so precise is this revelation of the
mysteries of the supernatural world. Besides the occult and permanent influences of the demons over
our food, God permits, from time to time, striking facts, which reveal the presence of the enemy, and
the necessity of banishing him before making use of them. We read the following in St. Gregory the
Great:
In the monastery of the abbot Equitius, it happened that a religious, going one day into the garden,
saw a lettuce which excited her appetite. She took it, and forgetting to make the Sign of the Cross,
ate it with avidity. At the same instant, she was possessed by the Demon and thrown upon the
Earth, a prey to the most frightful convulsions. The venerable abbot hastened to put himself in
7 Clem. Alex., Poedag., lib. ii. c. i.
8 Apud Euseb., Præp. evang., lib iv. c. 22.
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prayer, begging relief for the unfortunate religious. Soon the Demon, tormented in his turn, began
to cry out: ‘What have I done? What have I done? I was on the lettuce; she did not banish me from
it, and she ate it.’ In the name of Jesus Christ, the holy abbot commanded him to go out of the body
of that servant of God, and never dare to molest her again. The Demon obeyed, and the religious
was entirely cured.
Thus, then, facts speak as well as testimonies; pagan theology as well as Christian theology; the
East like the West; antiquity like modern times; Porphyrius like St. Gregory. What authority can your
companions oppose to this?
To say that mankind are blockheads, and the universal custom of blessing the food an obsolete
superstition, is easy, polite, and above all, convincing. However, as I am never satisfied with words,
tell them that if they can allege one reason worth a Monaco penny, to authorize them in not making use
of the blessing at table, I promise to give each of them a bust in the Pantheon. In the meantime, it
remains established that prayer before eating is a law of humanity and that it has been reserved to our
epoch to produce minds so strong as to find it glorious to liken themselves publicly, twice a day, to the
dog, the cat and the crocodile.
I leave you with this truth, promising for tomorrow another point of view.
________________
TWENTIETH LETTER
The Sign of the Cross is a guide that conducts us — Necessity of a guide — State
of man here below — The Sign of the Cross conducts man to his end by remembrance,
and by imitation — Remembrance which it recalls — General remembrance —
Particular remembrance — Particular imitation December 16th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
Ennobled, instructed, enriched, protected by the Sign of the Cross, what remains for man to attain
happily the end of his pilgrimage? It remains for him to find a sure guide to conduct him. Like the
archangel Raphael, sent to accompany the young Tobias in his distant voyage, the Sign of the Cross
presents itself, and offers to render to all, to you as well as me, dear friend, the same service. Such is
the last point of view under which we shall consider this adorable sign.
Travellers towards heaven, the Sign of the Cross is a guide that conducts us.
It is midnight; the thunder rolls on all sides, the rain falls in torrents, ferocious beasts, issuing from
their dens, roar and run in every direction. Objects can be distinguished only by the glare of the
lightning. You are alone in the midst of your Black Forest, such as it was in the time of Cæsar,
immense, horrible, without road, path, or habitation, a vast haunt of those great bears of Germany, the
sight of which affrighted the Romans, even on the inaccessible steps of the Coliseum. What shall
become of you? Do you not feel the necessity of a charitable guide, who, appearing suddenly beside
you, shall reassure you by his presence, and take you by the hand to conduct you safe and sound into
the midst of your family?
Feeble image of the reality! The Black Forest is the world; the tempest, with its darkness, its
thunders, dangers and terrors, is life. Where am I? Whither am I going? What road shall I take? Such
are the questions addressed to himself by the terrified man in the midst of this night so full of anguish.
The answer is not long delayed; it is whole and entire in the Sign of the Cross.
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Again, the Church, full of solicitude, teaches him to make it even from his cradle. Explained by
the voice of his mother, this eloquent sign dissipates all darkness, illuminates the way, and directs
through life.
“Having come from God,” it says to man, “you are returning to God. Image of God, who is love,
you must return to him by love. Love includes remembrance and imitation. To think of God, to imitate
God; this is for you the way, the truth, and the life. Understand me, and you shall, without difficulty,
fulfill the two fundamental laws of your existence.”
Nothing is more true than this language of the divine guide; some details will suffice to
demonstrate this.
Remembrance. They say in France, as in Germany, as everywhere, today as four thousand years
ago, that remembrance is the pulse of friendship. As long as the pulse beats, life exists. It is extinct
when the pulse ceases to beat. In like manner, as long as the remembrance of the beloved object
subsists, affection continues. It languishes when remembrance grows faint; it dies when it disappears.
All this, as you know, is elementary. We are so fully convinced that remembrance is a sign, a cause, a
condition of human affection, that friends never fail when parting to say: “Do not forget me; I will
never forget you;” and to give tokens which, notwithstanding their absence, may preserve their mutual
remembrance.
It is with the love of God as with human friendships. Remembrance is its sign, its soul, its life. The
remembrance of God being the first law of our being, it behooved Infinite Wisdom to give us a means
of accomplishing it. The law being universal, the means should be universal. The law being for all, rich
and poor, learned and ignorant, men of leisure and men of labor, the means should be accessible to all.
The law being fundamental, the means should be very powerful.
I have told you, dear Frederic, that the law of remembrance is a fundamental law of humanity. The
justification of these words will show you, in a new light, the importance of the Sign of the Cross.
What the sun is in the physical world, God is in every respect, and still more, in the moral world.
Suppose that instead of continuing to shed on the world his torrents of light and heat, the sun is
suddenly extinguished; imagine what becomes of nature? At the same instant, vegetation is stopped,
the rivers and seas become plains of ice, and the Earth as hard as a rock. All the malicious animals,
which light enchains in the depth of the forests, issue from their caverns, and, by terrific howlings, call
one another to the slaughter. Trouble and terror seize upon man. Everywhere reign confusion, despair,
death; a few days suffice to bring the world back to chaos. Let God, the necessary sun of intelligences,
disappear; moral life immediately becomes extinct. All ideas of good and evil are effaced. Truth and
error, justice and injustice, are confounded in the right of the strongest. In the midst of such thick
darkness, all the hideous cupidities, all the sanguinary instincts slumbering in the heart of man, are
aroused, let loose, and without fear as without remorse, contend for the mutilated fragments of
fortunes, cities, and empires. War is everywhere; the war of all against all, which makes the world a
vast den of thieves and assassins.
This spectacle the eye of man has never seen, any more than he has seen the universe without the
planet which vivifies it. But what he has seen is a world on which, like the sun veiled with thick
clouds, the idea of God casts only an uncertain glimmer. Thence have proceeded endless gropings,
foolish and immoral systems, gross and cruel superstitions, passions instead of laws, crimes instead of
virtues, materialism at the base, despotism at the summit, egotism everywhere, with the combats of the
gladiators, and the banquets of human flesh.
Less complete than among the pagans, the forgetfulness of God, produced, however, among the
Jews, analogous effects. Twenty times, by the medium of his prophets, did the Lord attribute to this
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crime the iniquities of Jerusalem, and the chastisements with which she was overwhelmed. Now,
Jerusalem, as you know, is the type of nations.
Therefore thus saith the Lord: Who hath heard such horrible things as the virgin of Israel hath done
to excess? . . . because she hath forgotten me. . . . Thou hast walked in the way of thy sister
Samaria, and I will give her cup into thy hand. Thou shalt drink thy sister’s cup, deep and wide,
and thou shalt become the scorn of nations.
...Thou shalt be drunk with sorrows, drunk with the cup of grief and sadness, with the cup of thy
sister Samaria.
...And thou shalt drink it, and shalt drain it even to the dregs; and thou shalt devour the fragments
thereof, and thou shalt rend thy breasts. . . . Because thou hast forgotten me, and hast cast me off
behind thy back; thou shalt bear thy crime and the chastisement of thy crime.1
Could any one characterize with greater energy the fatal consequences of forgetfulness of God?
Now, the enormity of a crime is measured by the sanctity of the law which it violates.
The remembrance of God is, then, the vital law of humanity. On this basis, calculate the
importance of the Sign of the Cross, especially destined to keep alive in man this salutary
remembrance.
I have said especially, and with reason. The Sign of the Cross is a vase filled with divine
souvenirs. In making it, all those souvenirs are shed even into the very depths of my being. I
necessarily remember the Father, I necessarily remember the Son, I necessarily remember the Holy
Ghost. I remember the Father as Creator, the Son as Redeemer, the Holy Ghost as sanctifier.
The Father recalls to you, as to me, as to every one who has a mind to understand, and a heart to
love, all the divine benefits in the order of creation. I exist, and it is to Thee, O Father of fathers, that I
owe life; life the basis of all natural gifts, that life which thou hast given to me in preference to so
many millions of possible beings. I owe to thee the conservation of life. Each beating of my heart is a
benefit. Thou renewest it every instant of the day and the night. Thou dost continue it during long
years, notwithstanding my ingratitude, notwithstanding the bad use that I make of it. Thou dost
continue it to me in preference to so many who, born with me, after me, are dead before me. I owe to
thee all that preserves, consoles, and beautifies life; and the sun that enlightens me, the air that I
breathe, the Earth that sustains me, the animals that serve me, the garments that cover me, the remedies
that heal me, my parents, my friends, my body with its senses, my soul with its faculties, and all
creatures visible and invisible, placed so magnificently at my service. O Father Creator, I owe all to
thee. The Son recalls all the divine benefits in the order of Redemption. When I pronounce thy name,
O adorable Son, it transports me into the splendors of eternity. There I behold thee equal to the Father,
seated upon the same throne, happy with an infinite felicity. Then, suddenly, I descend into a poor
stable, before a wretched crib, and there I behold thee, a little infant, deprived of every thing, trembling
with cold, lying on a little straw, scarcely warmed by the caresses of thy Mother, and the breath of two
beasts. From the crib, I come to the Cross. What a spectacle! Thou, O my God, the Monarch of worlds,
the King of angels and of men, art hanging on a gibbet, between Heaven and Earth, in the company of
two thieves; thy body torn, thy members pierced, thy head crowned with thorns, thy face defiled with
blood and spittle, and all this for love of me!
The cross conducts me to the tabernacle. Before my God annihilated, before my God become my
bread; before my God become my prisoner, my servant, obedient to my voice, to the voice of a child;
1 Jerem. 18:13, 15. Ezech. 23:31, 35. Is. 57:11, etc., etc.
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before this abridgment of all the miracles of love, my tongue remains mute. The tongues of men and
angels are powerless to stammer anything of a mystery which only infinite love could have conceived.
The Holy Ghost recalls all the divine benefits in the order of sanctification. Consubstantial Love
of the Father and the Son, it is to Thee that the world owes every thing. It owes to Thee the Incarnate
Word, its Redeemer: Qui conceptus est de Spiritu Sancto. It owes to thee Mary, His mother: Spiritus
Sanctus superveniet in te. It owes to Thee the Holy Catholic Church, that other mother, who is for the
world and for me what Mary is for Jesus:
Credo in Spiritum Sanctum, sanctam Ecclesiam. Her bowels have borne me, her milk has
nourished me, her sacraments strengthen and heal me. To her I owe the Communion of Saints, that
glorious society which places me, a vile creature, in intimate communication with the angelic
hierarchies, with all the saints, from Abel down to the last of the elect. To her I owe the preservation of
the Gospel, that luminous torch which has drawn the human race out of barbarism, and prevents it
from returning to it again.
Do you know any souvenir so fruitful, so eloquent as the Sign of the Cross? The philosopher, the
politician, the Christian, sometimes ask for books upon which to meditate; here is one which can take
the place of all others. This book, intelligible to all, legible to all, gratuitously given, is within the reach
of every one. Such has God made it, and what He has made, He has made well.
Imitation. To remember God is the first law of our being. You see, dear friend, the importance of
this law, and how the Sign of the Cross helps us to accomplish it. To imitate God is another law, no
less fundamental. On this point, a reasonable mind never entertains the least doubt. Is not every being
obliged to tend to its perfection? Is it not for this, and for this alone, that life has been given to it?
What, then, can be the perfection of a being, if it does not consist in its resemblance to the type on
which it has been formed? Is not the picture so much the more perfect, as it better expresses the traits
of the model? Man is made to the image of God. To copy trait-for-trait this divine Prototype, to assign
to his perfection no other bounds than the perfection of his sublime Model; such is the law of his being,
and the obligatory labor of his entire life.
“I have given you the example,” said the God-Man, “that as I myself have done, so you do also.”
And His great Apostle: “Be you imitators of me, as I myself am of the Incarnate Word; no salvation for
those who shall not be found conformed to the divine type.”
Now, nothing is more fit to guide us in this way of imitation than the Sign of the Cross. What does
man do in forming it? He pronounces the name of God, for God is the Father, the Son, and the Holy
Ghost, three distinct Persons in one and the same Divinity. By repeating to man the name of God, the
Sign of the Cross places before his eyes his Eternal Model, the Being by excellence, in whom are
united all perfections in an infinite degree.
Again, in repeating the name of each person of the august Trinity, it proposes to our imitation the
particular perfections of each. In the Father, infinite power, and it says to me: You must imitate the
power of the Father,
Creator and Moderator of all things, by the government of yourself and the world; by the empire
over your passions, over the maxims, customs, interests, fashions, threats and promises, contrary to the
liberty and dignity of a child of God, a king like his Father.
In the Son, infinite wisdom, and it says to me: You must imitate the wisdom of the Son, by the
justness of your appreciations and judgments; by the preference invariably given to the soul over the
body, to eternity over time, duty over pleasure, to riches that remain over goods that pass away.
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In the Holy Ghost, infinite love, and it says to me: You must imitate the charity of the Holy Ghost,
by regulating and ennobling your affections, by tearing from your heart even the last fiber of egotism,
jealousy, hatred, and all the vices which produce degradation within, and trouble without.
What do you think of it? Is not the Sign of the Cross an excellent guide? Where is the professor of
philosophy who can flatter himself with showing more clearly the way of perfection? Nevertheless, we
have learned only one part of its teachings; the others tomorrow.
________________
TWENTY-FIRST LETTER.
General imitation — Imitation of the sanctity of God — What sanctity is — The
Sign of the Cross, the sanctifier of man and of creatures — Imitation of the
charity of God — What charity is in God — What it should be in us — In teaching
it to us, the Sign of the Cross is an eloquent and sure guide — Incontestable
proofs December 18th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
Thanks to the Sign of the Cross, each person of the adorable Trinity places himself, in some sort,
before us, that we may copy Him. Under the great name of God, they offer to our imitation all
perfections united. From among them I choose two, shining more brilliantly, and more necessary to be
imitated now than ever: sanctity and charity.
Sanctity. — Sanctity means unity, freedom from all foreign mixture. God is holy, because He is
one. He is thrice holy, because He is thrice one. One in power, because it is infinite; one in wisdom,
because it is infinite; one in love, because it is infinite. In God nothing limits, nothing alters this triple
unity. He is holy, perfectly holy, completely holy in Himself, for the reason I have just alleged.
He is holy in His works. In none can He suffer guilty mixture, disorder, or to call it by its true
name, sin. The angels falling from Heaven, man expelled from the terrestrial paradise, the world
drowned by the deluge, Sodom consumed by fire, the Roman empire falling under the blows of
barbarians, the great Victim of Calvary crucified between two thieves, calamities public or private,
Hell with its eternal fires; all are so many testimonies of the inexorable sanctity of God in His
creatures. It is a great lesson, which the Sign of the Cross incessantly gives me. I cannot make it, but it
says to me: Image of a God holy, thrice holy, inexorably holy, you yourself must be holy, thrice holy,
inexorably holy, in your memory, your understanding, your will.
Holy in my soul and body, holy in myself and my works, whether alone or in company, young or
old, powerful or feeble, holy in all, holy everywhere, holy always; such is the divine unity which I
must realize in myself. “O, man!”. exclaims Tertullian, “how great thou art, if thou dost comprehend
thyself!” O homo, tantum nomen si intelligas te!
This is not enough; like God Himself, I must realize it outwardly. Over all that surrounds me
should be spread the sanctity or unity of my life. Examples, words, prayers, nothing in me which does
not serve to remove the evil, the dualism from my neighbor, like me, the image of God, like me,
created for unity. In this obligation, so vividly recalled by the Sign of the Cross, do those prodigies of
devotedness, incessantly renewed in the bosom of Catholicity, take their origin.
Ask our legions of apostles of both sexes, what it is that leads them to place at the service of
unknown barbarians, intellects the most noble, lives the most pure, blood the most generous. All will
reply: The words of the Master. We have heard the Word, the Redeemer, ordaining that all the
members of the human family should be marked with the august Sign of the Trinity. Immortal as
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Himself, this word resounds in our hearts, and wherever there is a forehead still unmarked by the
liberating sign, we hasten, we work, we die.
Hear the general-in-chief of those heroic legions, Xavier, the St. Paul of modern times. You know
that, by his gigantic labors, this wonderful man conquered a world to civilization and the faith. But
what powerful lever raised his courage and that of his successors, even to temerity; his ambition and
theirs, even to enthusiasm and folly? O sanctissima Trinitas! O most holy Trinity! This war-cry,
almost as frequent as respiration on the lips of Xavier, reveals to you the common thought. With an eye
illumined by faith, the apostle considers the numerous nations of India, China, and Japan. He sees them
seated in the shadow of death, and bearing on their dishonored brows the Sign of the Beast, instead of
the glorious character of the Trinity. At this spectacle of utter degradation his zeal is inflamed, and
from his heaving breast escapes the war-cry, O sanctissima Trinitas! O most holy Trinity!
What dishonor for Thee! What misfortune for the work of Thy hands! And to repair those
disfigured images by engraving on their foreheads the divine sign, Xavier rushes forward like a giant.
Space diminishes beneath his feet. He laughs at dangers, and places no other bounds to his repairing
ambition than the limits of the world. Even the world itself seems too little for his heart, and his travels
are equal to three times its circumference.1
Although death does not permit him to go through it in every sense, yet he points out to his
successors the nations to be conquered. His desire is accomplished. Borne on the wings of the wind,
according to Fenelon’s expression, thousands of missionaries shall arrive in every isle, every forest,
every region, however distant, however inhospitable it may be.
Their first care shall be to reestablish, on the forehead of man, sunk even into cannibalism, the
sanctifying Sign of the Cross, repeating, like their chief: O sanctissima Trinitas! That such is the
motive which animates evangelical conquerors, is proved by the fact that all their ministry consists in
marking infidel nations with the seal of the adorable Persons, and afterwards in maintaining inviolate
the divine resemblance.
The Sign of the Cross does yet more. It sanctifies all that it touches, man or creatures. Now, in
sanctifying creatures after having sanctified man, the divine guide leads all things back to their end,
unity. It is an article, of universal faith,. that religious signs have power to modify inanimate creatures:
we have seen it in all that precedes. Because it is universal, such a belief cannot be false. The great
Mistress of truth regards it as part of the deposit confided to her care. Each day she practices it, and
teaches the practice of it.
See the Catholic Church during eighteen centuries and in every part of the globe, sanctifying by
the Sign of the Cross, water, salt, oil, bread, wax, stone, wood, and all insensible creatures.
What is it, theologically, to say that the Sign of the Cross sanctifies man and creatures? In regard
of man, I do not pretend that the Sign of the Cross confers on him sanctifying grace, or that it is an
instrument proper to confer it, like the sacraments. I mean that it communicates a kind of
sanctification, like that of the catechumen on whom this divine sign is made before baptism: “For,”
says St. Augustine, “there are sanctifications of many kinds.”2
The Sign of the Cross is an act to which God attaches the application of the merits of His son,
without, however, giving it the virtue of baptism or penance. Almsgiving is not a sacrament; and
nevertheless, it is something good, pious, salutary and sanctifying.
1 Life of St. Fr. Xavier, t. ii., lib. vi., pp. 208-213.
2 Lib. ii., De Peccat. merit. et remiss., c. cxxvi.
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As to creatures, to sanctify an inanimate thing, is it not to give it a physical
and inherent quality? Is it not to bring it back to its native purity, and
communicate to it a virtue superior to its nature? From this proceed two effects
of sanctification.
The first purifies creatures in this sense, that it frees them from the influences of the Demon. The
second renders them proper to produce effects beyond their natural strength. Thus modified, they
become, in the hands of man, instruments of healing, arms against the demons, preservatives against
dangers of soul and body.
How many miraculous events, public and private, ancient and modern, could we cite as due to
those creatures; irrational, indeed, but sanctified by the Sign of the Cross. If, instead of wasting their
time in dabbling in the pagan fables, and legends of Rome and Greece, the rising generations would
study the history of the Church and the lives of the saints, your companions would know, on this point,
many facts better proved than those of Alexander and Socrates.3
It is not by the imitation of the divine sanctity alone, but of the divine charity also, that the Sign of
the Cross, as an eloquent and sure guide, places us, keeps and sustains us in our way.
Charity. — God, whose children we are, and whose images we ought to be, is charity; Deus
charitas est. This word tells everything. It tells what God is in Himself and in His works. The Father,
being God, is charity. The Son, being God, is charity. The Holy Ghost, being God, is charity. The
Trinity whole and entire, is charity. God is charity! Do you know a name more beautiful? And the Sign
of the Cross, each time that we make it, repeats this to our hearts.
Charity means union and effusion. Between the three august Persons all is union and unity: unity
of power, unity of thoughts, unity of operations, unity of happiness, unity of essence. Even the shadow
of a discord never troubles this perfect, this ravishing harmony. Why? Because one only love, a love,
full, eternal and unalterable, is the delightful bond of the Trinity.
Effusion. — Essentially communicative, charity tends to spread itself abroad, and infinite charity,
with infinite strength and abundance. Now, the exterior works of God are creation, conservation,
redemption, sanctification, glorification.
Now, to create is to love; to conserve is to love; to redeem is to love; to sanctify is to love; to
glorify is to love. All charity comes from the heart. God is, then, a heart. Do you know a name more
delightful? And this name the Sign of the Cross repeats to us every time we make it.
God is charity. To you as to me, as to every man, whatever be his age or
condition, this word tells what we ought to be. Images of God, we should resemble
Him. To resemble Him is to be charity, charity in ourselves and in our works. In
ourselves, by the supernatural bond of grace which unites among themselves all our
faculties, ennobles them, strengthens one by the other, and causes all to tend to
the same end, the formation of the perfect resemblance between God and us.
In our works, by the Divine principle, which, uniting us to all men, as members of the same body,
makes our heart beat in unison with theirs, and sheds its salutary effusions on all that belongs to them,
thus realizing the last wish of our Divine Master: O Father! that they may be one as we also are one.
I stop, my dear Frederic, at these points, which you can easily develop. They suffice to show the
importance of the Sign of the Cross as the guide of man. If your comrades have the misfortune to doubt
it, propose to them the following questions:
Is it true or not, that nothing is more calculated to remind us of God, and the
Trinity, than the Sign of the Cross?
3 See Gretzer, p. 696, et suiv.
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Is it true or not, that man is formed to the image of God?
Is it true or not, that the first duty, and the natural tendency of any being whatever, is to reproduce
in itself the type after which it has been made?
Is it true or not, that if man does not make persevering efforts to form himself to the image of God,
he inevitably forms himself to the image of the Demon, and of his unruly passions; so that in not
becoming, day by day, more holy, more charitable, more like God, he daily becomes more perverse,
more egotistical, more like the Demon, more of a beast, animalis homo?
Is it true or not, that man continually tends, either with or without his knowledge, to make all that
surrounds him like himself, and that from each permanent action proceeds sanctification or perversion,
order or disorder, the salvation or the ruin of individuals, families, societies, beliefs and morals?
However little they may have of logic, and above all, of impartiality, their answer, I have no
doubt, will be what it should. With us they must conclude that nothing is better founded, or, to use the
language of the day, more profoundly philosophical, than the frequent, and very frequent use of the
Sign of the Cross. They will conclude that neither the primitive Christians, nor the true Christians of
every age, nor the Catholic Church, nor in fine, the élite of humanity have been deceived in invariably
preserving the use of this mysterious sign. They will conclude that error, blame and disgrace belong to
the despisers of the Sign of the Cross; that in not making it, in being ashamed to make it, in laughing at
those who make it, they rank themselves with the refuse of humanity, degrade themselves beneath the
pagans, and liken themselves to beasts.
What remains, then, for them and for us?
In my last letters, you shall learn it.
________________
TWENTY-SECOND LETTER.
Sentence of the judgment between us and the first Christians — First obligation,
to make the Sign of the Cross boldly, to make it often, and to make it well —
Reasons for making it boldly — Disgrace and danger of not making it — State of
the physical and moral health of the world at the present day
December 19th.
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
When, in civil affairs, a judgment without appeal is rendered, what remains to the parties? Only
one thing. Under pain of revolt and all the consequences of revolt, it must be executed. It is the same in
doctrinal questions. When an infallible authority has pronounced upon a point in litigation, only one
course remains. Under pain of a revolt much more grievous, and all the consequences of that revolt, the
decree of the supreme tribunal must be taken as the rule of conduct.
A trial was instituted between us and the early Christians. It was to be decided who were right or
wrong; the first Christians who made the Sign of the Cross, made it very often, and made it well; or
modern Christians who do not make the Sign of the Cross, make it seldom, or make it badly. The cause
has been carefully examined, the debates published, the pleadings heard. The élite of humanity,
constituted as a sovereign tribunal, and having for assistant judges faith, reason, experience, and
nations, even those which were pagan, have decided in favor of the Christians of the primitive Church.
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What remains for us to do? We must renew the glorious chain of our ancient traditions, so unhappily
broken, and make the Sign of the Cross boldly, make it often, make it well.
Make the Sign of the Cross boldly and openly. And why should we not do so? Why be ashamed of
making it? Remark well, my dear friend, that to make, or not make, the Sign of the Cross is not an
optional thing. He who makes it honors himself; he who does not make it dishonors himself.
In making the Sign of the Cross, we have behind us, around us, with us, all the great men and
grand ages of the East and West; all the immortal Catholic nation, the élite of humanity. In not making
it, we have behind us, around us, with us, the shallow-minded heretics, unbelievers, and ignoramuses,:
the little and great beasts. In making the Sign of the Cross we cover both ourselves and creatures with
an invincible armor. In not making it, we disarm ourselves, and expose both ourselves and creatures to
the gravest perils.
Both man and the world necessarily live under the influence of the Spirit of good or the Spirit of
evil. Master of man and of creatures, the Spirit of evil makes them feel his malignant influence; body
and soul, mind and matter are vitiated by it. This fundamental truth has been believed by all mankind.
Again, for more than eighteen centuries the chiefs of the eternal combat have not ceased to cry out
to us with one voice, to cover both ourselves and creatures with the Sign of the Cross, a buckler,
impenetrable to the burning darts of the enemy: Scutum in quo ignitæ diaboli extinguuntur sagittæ.
And we, soldiers unfaithful to our instructions, voluntarily cast aside our armor? With naked breast, we
stupidly remain exposed to the deadly blows of the armed enemy! And all this, that we may not
displease others; and such others! But they say: “The present world does not make the Sign of the
Cross, and it is none the worse for it.” Is this quite certain? What is today the general health of man
and of nature? Do you not hear it repeated every day in Germany as in France, as everywhere, “There
is no more health”? This saying, now become popular, is it no more than a saying? Even optimists tell
it to you. Do you believe then that the divine laws made for man, mind and matter, have not in this life
a double sanction, one moral, the other physical? Do you believe that the profanation, becoming more
and more general, of the days consecrated to the repose of man and creatures, the contempt of the laws
of fast and abstinence, the abandonment of the bread of life, can compromise only the salvation of the
soul?
Do you believe that the over-anxiety of affairs, the agitations of politics, the fever of enjoyments,
distinctive character of a world which has undertaken to make Heaven descend upon Earth; the
effeminacy of manners, the abnormal habit of turning night into day and day into night, the searches of
sensuality in food, the frightful consumption of alcoholic liquors, our five hundred thousand coffeehouses
and taverns, are without influence on the public health? Whence, then, proceeds the diminution
of strength in modern generations? Would it be easy to find, today, many young men capable of
handling the arms of our ancestors of the middle ages, or even of carrying their armor?
Those numerous reforms, made by the councils of revision on account of etiolation or defects of
conformation; the inability of so many persons, even religious, to observe the law of fasting, although
so much mitigated, have they no signification? What says that augmentation, already considerable yet
ever increasing, of apothecaries, physicians, health officers and healing mediums, whose antechambers
will soon be as much frequented as the offices of the most eminent medical men?
Finally, those cases of suicide and insanity, which in our time have swelled to such unprecedented
numbers, and are still increasing, are they very reassuring symptoms of the public health? Even
allowing to them only a limited value, do these facts, and many others, demonstrate that the man of today
is no worse than the man of former times? And the health of nature, over which is no longer made
the liberating sign, is it still improving? What means the disease of the potatoes, the disease of the
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vine, the diseases of trees, vegetables, plants, and herbs, even of pasture? All these unhealthy plants,
which number more than one hundred, attacked simultaneously by serious, unknown and obstinate
diseases, do they prove the perfect health of creatures? This phenomenon, all the more inauspicious, as
it is without analogy in history, does it not rather seem to give to actual nature the appearance of a
great hospital, in which, like the human species, all suffers, all languishes, all dies?1
It cannot then be denied; considered in man, and in creatures immediately subjected to man, the
world of our day is diseased, more diseased than formerly. But what is the malady? It is the enfeebling
of life. The Word Creator is life and all life. To approach Him is to augment life, to retire from Him is
to diminish it. In the judgment of the Church and all Christian ages, the exterior act, the feature of
union the most universal and most ordinary which places man and creatures in contact with the Life, is
the Sign of the Cross. Now, you laugh at it, you do not make it; you do not wish to make it. As far as
you are concerned, you replace it, and also the prayers and pilgrimages of former times, by seabathing,
by waters hot, cold, tepid, sulfureous, or ferruginous, from Vichy, Switzerland, Germany, or
the Pyrenees. And in creatures, by artificial manure, echenillage, draining, and sulfur. All very well;
only it is necessary to do the one, and not omit the other: Hæc oportuit facere et illa non omittere.
Thus, the people of the world of our day, despisers of wisdom both human and divine, believe that
they can violate with impunity a law religiously observed from the foundation of Christianity, and
respected even by the pagans, who had it as a formula in the celebrated maxim: It is necessary to pray
in order to enjoy physical and moral health, Orandum est ut sit mens sana in corpore sano. Let us not
complain; we have what we have, and it is our due. Even were the physical health of man and nature,
bereft of the Sign of the Cross, to be as flourishing as they pretend, there would still remain the moral
health, far more important than the first. Now, what is the sanitary state of souls in the world of our
day? The answer would lead me too far. I only remind you that the moral man, as well as the physical,
has the inevitable alternative either to live under the salutary influence of the good Spirit, or the
malevolent influence of the evil Spirit. The Sign of the Cross places us under the first; the absence of
this sign abandons us to the second. Such is, again, the teaching of the Church, confirmed by the
practice of Christian ages.
This experience of eighteen hundred years is nothing to you. You no longer want the sacred sign;
you no longer have any faith in it; you no longer make it on your forehead, your lips, your heart, or
your food. Ah, well! the Demon will mark his own. On all those foreheads, on all those lips, on all
those hearts, on all that food, shall be seen, without any necessity for a microscope, the Sign of the
Beast.
What is the Sign of the Beast on the forehead? It is pride, insubordination, anger, contempt,
effrontery, agitation of the features; inaptitude for spiritual sciences, disgust for moral studies;
pleasures tarnished by the vice of impurity or consumed by wine; something heavy in the countenance;
something low, dull and bestial; the cynicism of eyes full of adultery, full of a sin that never ends,
continually alluring unstable souls.2
1 Material creatures, being incapable of either good or evil, are diseased only by resilience; they follow the condition of
man. Man, being the center and abridgment of the creation, encloses within himself all the laws which regulate inferior
creatures. If he violates them, the consequences of his violation are felt by all nature. Witness the sin of Adam. To the like
cause, reproduced in the course of ages, we must attribute the maladies of creatures, always in direct proportion to the cause
which produces them. Does it not seem as if Isaiah was looking forward to our epoch when he wrote: “The Earth is infected
by the inhabitants thereof. From thence tears, mourning, weakness of the Earth, decay of the world; the malady of the vine,
and the mourning of the cultivators.” 24:4, ana foIl. Habacuc, Jeremias and the other prophets speak in the same terms of
this agony of nature.
2 I Cor. 11,14; 2 Pet. 11, 14.
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What is it on the lips? Laughter, either immodest or immoderate, foolishly impious or cruelly
mocking; talkativeness without rule, without importance, without aim, obscene words, words of deceit,
irreligion, blasphemy, hatred, detraction and jealousy; too full of concupiscences which rise like a
foam, infectious as the exhalations of a sepulcher, deadly as the venom of a viper.3
What is it in the heart? Bad thoughts, wicked desires, fornications, impurities, treasons, the
shameful petty acts of egotism; thefts, poisonings, murders,4 the reign of courtesans, the apotheosis of
actresses.
What is it over eatables? Their pernicious influence. Not having been delivered by the saving sign,
they serve, as even the pagans themselves acknowledged, as vehicles to the Demon. Placed by
manducation in intimate contact with the inferior part of the soul, they excite its appetites, flatter its
base instincts, and stir up its passions.
Hence, what we now see; nicety in choice, sensuality in eating and drinking, despotism of the
flesh, disgust for labor, powerlessness to resist temptation, the abasement and sometimes brutalizing of
the intellect, softness of morals, Sybaritism of habits, the adoration of the god of the belly, comp1eted
today more than ever by contempt of self, by the stifling of conscience and the moral sense, by suicide
and infanticide.5 Look around you, my dear friend; seek for countenances, lips, hearts and tables,
where are preserved the health, dignity, and sobriety of the man and the Christian; lives pure and
mortified; lives strong against temptations, lives devoted to virtue and charity, lives which may,
without shame, be revealed to friends or enemies; you will find them only under the protection of the
Sign of the Cross.
What I have told you today, accept as a fact of experience. Tomorrow I will give you the reasons
and proofs of it.
________________
3 Ps. 5, 11. Jud. 13.
4 Matth. xv. 19, etc.
5 Philip. iii. 18.
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TWENTY-THIRD LETTER.
Reasons of the power and exalted mission of the Sign of the Cross — Fundamental
dogma — What happens in the political order a figure of what takes place in the
moral order — The Reformation, first daughter of Paganism, throws down all the
crosses — The French Revolution, second daughter of Paganism, imitates her sister
— Second obligation, to make the Sign of the Cross frequently — Reasons drawn
from our present state — Third obligation, to make it well, condition — The Sign
of the Cross, eternal sign of victory — Constantine — Praises of the Sign of
the Cross December 20th
MY DEAR FREDERIC:
Do not forget that we draw practical conclusions from the judgment rendered between us and our
ancestors. The first is that we should make the Sign of the Cross courageously.
Although the decision of a tribunal without appeal suffices to determine our conduct, I have
wished, in order to render it more worthy of respect, to show you the shame, the dangers and
misfortunes which would be the consequence of a revolt, either theoretical or practical. Facts have
spoken. You have seen the Sign of the Beast engraven on those foreheads, hearts, lips and aliments,
unsanctified by the divine sign. Whence does this proceed? I have promised to tell you.
The Sign of the Beast is inevitably imprinted on man, and on every thing unprotected by the Sign
of the Cross, the liberator of man and the world: it cannot be, it never shall be otherwise. As for the
world there is but one lightning-conductor, so for man there is but one preservative against the Demon,
— it is the Sign of the Cross. Where it is not, there Satan is master.
This fact, as we have repeatedly seen, holds to the most profound, and, altogether, the most
incontestable dogma of humanity; the servitude of man and the world to the Spirit of evil since the
original fall. To render more palpable what I say of the exalted mission of the Sign of the Cross, allow
me to remind you of some historical facts, too seldom noticed.
What happens in the political world is but a reflection of what takes place in the moral. Now,
when a dynasty ascends the throne, its first care is to erect its standard and engrave its coat-of-arms
everywhere. This is the sign of its sovereignty. Does it happen to be overthrown? The first act of the
conqueror is to destroy the emblems of the vanquished dynasty, and replace them by his own. Thus is
announced to the eyes of the people the inauguration of a new reign. How many times during the last
seventy years have we seen in France and elsewhere this change of colors and escutcheons! In coming
to take possession of His kingdom, the Incarnate Word found Satan the king and god of the world. The
statues, trophies, coats-of-arms, and insignia of the usurper were everywhere. He, being vanquished,
all those signs of his sovereignty disappeared. In their place shone the arms of the Victor, the Cross.
When, for its crimes, a soul or a country is again abandoned to Satan, and he takes possession of it, the
first act of the usurper is to cause the Sign of the Cross to disappear. Then it is, and only then, that
having no longer to fear this formidable sign, he acts therein as master.
Read again one page in the history of your own country. From 1520 to 1530, what spectacle does
Germany present to you? From the Rhine to the Danube, all those crosses which, from the victory of
Christianity over Scandinavian idolatry, had crowned the hills and mountains, bordered the roads,
enameled the fields, ornamented the tops of houses, shone on the summits of churches, decorated the
apartments of the rich, or consoled the cottages of the poor, were thrown down, broken into fragments,
cast to the winds, or dragged in the mire, amidst the vociferations of a delirious people. What did that
destructive storm announce? The advent of the victor, the re-establishment of his reign. Since that time
the Spirit of darkness has ruled Germany. There, as in the ancient world, he reigns by despotism,
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voluptuousness, cruelty, and robbery, by the confusion of right and wrong, by intellectual anarchy,
under every name and form.
We find the like spectacle in Prussia, Saxony, Holland, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, England,
Switzerland, and every country where the usurper has taken the place of the rightful King. This fact is
the more significant, as it is not isolated in history. We see it reproduced every time that Satan retakes
possession of a country. It gives the character of the infernal victory, whether general or particular,
slow or rapid, and measures its extent.
In 1830 the crosses thrown down might be counted only by hundreds; 1830 was a weak imitation
of 1793. In the latter epoch, the epoch of the complete triumph of paganism, it was far otherwise. By
thousands might be counted the crosses thrown down and broken on the soil of France. In that time of
sad, yet instructive remembrances, there is one day, inauspicious beyond all others. The tenth of
August, 1792, saw the throne and altar sink in blood, under the blows of fanatical hordes. The
massacres of the Carmes and St. Firmin, the proclaiming of the Republic, the assassination of Louis
XVI, the hecatombs of the Reign of Terror, the filthiness of the Directory, the apostasies and
sacrileges, the goddesses of Reason, were only the consequences of that lamentable day. It shall
eternally mark the precise hour in which Satan made his triumphant entry into the most Christian
kingdom.
An historian of the period writes:
Now at that moment, a fearful storm, such as had never been seen, burst over Paris. All day a
heavy, dead heat had stifled respiration. Gloomy clouds, marbled, towards evening, with sinisterlooking
streaks, had appeared to engulf the sun in a suspended ocean. Towards ten o’clock the
electricity discharged itself by thousands of flashes of lightning, like luminous palpitations of the
heavens. The winds, imprisoned behind that ridge of clouds, burst forth, roaring like the waves,
bending the harvests, breaking the branches of the trees, and carrying away roofs of dwellings. The
rain and hail rang on the ground as if the Earth were being stoned from above. The houses were
closed, the streets and roads deserted in an instant. The lightning, which, during eight successive
hours, did not cease to flash and strike, killed a great number of those men and women who came
during the night to provision Paris. Some of the sentinels were found struck amidst the ashes of
their sentry boxes. Iron gates, twisted by the wind and the fire of Heaven, were torn from the walls
to which they had been fastened by hinges, and carried to an incredible distance. Montmartre and
Mont Valerien, the two natural domes which rise above the horizon of the suburbs of Paris,
discharged in greater surface the fluid accumulated in the clouds which enveloped them. The
lightning, attacking by preference all those monuments standing alone or crowned with iron, threw
down all the crosses erected in the country, on the roads and cross-roads, from the plain of Issy to
the woods of St. Germain and Versailles, even to the cross of the bridge of Charenton. The next
day the limbs of those crosses were everywhere scattered over the ground, as if an invisible army
had, in its passage, overthrown all the repudiated signs of Christian worship.
There is no more chance in the moral order than there are leaps in nature. The facts I have just
related have, then, a signification. Now, the circumstances which have accompanied and followed
them prove evidently the cause of the existence or nonexistence of the Sign of the Cross in a country.
They also prove to nations, provinces, cities, countries, and men, whoever they may be, how much it
imports them to preserve, multiply, and honor that sign, the protector of the whole creation.
To make the Sign of the Cross frequently, is the second practical consequence of the judgment
rendered. And why should we not make it? Why not, each one, as far as he is concerned, return to the
practice of our forefathers? They did not believe themselves secure even for an instant, even in the
most ordinary actions of life, if they were not protected by the salutary sign. Are we stronger than
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they? Are our temptations less numerous, less active? our dangers less pressing? our obligations less
serious?
Every time that our fathers went out of their dwellings, their eyes were offended by the sight of
statues, pictures, obscene objects, customs, and feasts, wherein the Spirit of evil appeared on all sides.
What discourses, what conversations, what songs fell on their chaste ears! Under every form the most
seductive, the sensualism and naturalism of ideas and morals, both public and private, were a
permanent conspiracy against the supernaturalism of their life, against their spirit of mortification,
simplicity, poverty, and detachment. Moreover, they had to defend their faith against the sarcasms, the
contempt, and the sophisms of nations and of pagan philosophy. They had to answer for it before
judges, and attest it in amphitheatres.
In order to preserve themselves amidst so many perils, what was their secret? The Sign of the
Cross, always the Sign of the Cross. And we Catholics of the nineteenth century, what is our
condition? Has not every thing, or nearly every thing that surrounds us again become pagan? Where
shall we find one word of the Gospel in the greater number of men and things? Are not the cities of
modern Europe, like those of former times, filled with statues, paintings, engravings, and objects
capable of enkindling in the most frigid souls the impure fires of concupiscence?
In streets, in parlors, and in daily lectures, what strikes upon our ears? What does the modern
world need to be entirely pagan in the luxury of its table, furniture, lodging, garments and enjoyments?
Slavery and wealth. The instincts are the same as in the days of the Cæsars! Is not such a spectacle a
continual snare? Woe to him who does not see it! Woe, above all, to him who does not watch daily
over his heart and senses!
If it be difficult to defend our morals, what a war must we sustain in order to preserve our faith!
Do we not live in a time in which false ideas, lies and sophisms, as numerous as the atoms of the air,
are current in society? Everywhere are the amphitheatres in which we must combat for the Church, for
our belief, our traditions, our customs, for Christian supernaturalism. The arena is never closed; one
combat is no sooner ended than another begins.
Placed in a like condition with us, the early Christians were acquainted with a weapon, victorious,
universal, and familiar to all, of which they made constant use; it was the Sign of the Cross. Have we a
better? Ah, if ever it was necessary to make the protecting sign upon ourselves and creatures, it is today.
What prevents us from imitating our ancestors? How can it be incompatible with our occupations
to make the Sign of the Cross on the heart, or, after the ancient manner, on the forehead with the
thumb, or on the mouth with the thumb and the index? If we be vanquished, whose will be the fault?
Perditio tua ex te Israël!
To make the Sign of the Cross well is the third application of the sentence pronounced. Regularity,
respect, attention, confidence, and devotion should accompany our hand when it forms the adorable
sign.
Regularity. It requires that the Sign of the Cross, in its perfect form, be made according to the
traditional law, that is to say, with the right hand and not the left; by slowly carrying the hand from the
forehead to the breast, from the breast to the left shoulder, and then to the right, while pronouncing the
name of the three persons of the august Trinity.1 Nothing of this is arbitrary. If they were to come forth
1 Navarr., Comment. de Orat. et horis canon. c. xix, n. 200. [Note: In certain of the Uniate Oriental Rites, the Sign of the
Cross is made from forehead to breast to right shoulder, then finally to the left shoulder, to reflect that the faithful sheep to
be saved at the Last Judgment will be placed at the right hand of Christ the Dread Judge, and the goats to be damned at His
left hand.
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from their tombs, it is thus the Christians of the apostolical times would make the Sign of the Cross.
Let us hear an eye-witness.
Says St. Justin:
“We make the Sign of the Cross with the right hand over the catechumens because the right hand is
accounted more noble than the left, although it differs from it only in position, and not in its nature;
thus we pray turned toward the east, as being the most noble part of creation. From whom did the
Church receive this manner of prayer? From those who taught her to pray; from the Apostles.2
We have a curious passage from St. Augustine on the dignity of the right hand.
Do you not reprove him who eats with the left hand? If you look on the guest who eats with the left
hand as offering an insult to your table, why should it not be an insult to the divine table, to make
with the left hand what should be made with the right, and with the right what should be made with
the left.”3 St. Gregory adds: “Such is the manner of speaking among men; we call noble and
precious what is at the right, less precious, less noble what is at the left.4
As to the words which accompany the movement of the hand, they, also, are of apostolic tradition.
“Over all that you meet,” says St. Ephrem, “make the Sign of the Cross, in the name of the Father, and
of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost.”5
And Tertullian: “Faith is signed in the Father, and in the Son, and in the Holy Ghost.”6
And St. Alexander, soldier and martyr under Maximian, on being condemned to death, turned
toward the east, made the Sign of the Cross three times over his body and said: “Glory be to thee, O
God of our fathers, Father and Son and Holy Ghost.”7
However, the form which I have just described was less in use among the primitive Christians than
it is among us. Their ordinary way was to make the Sign of the Cross with the thumb on the forehead:
Frontem crucis signaculo terimus. This was because of their fear of betraying themselves, and also on
account of the incessant repetition of the adorable sign. Such is still the form most frequently
employed in Spain and many other countries.8
But why on the forehead rather than on the heart? Herein, my dear Frederic, as in all that is
ancient, there are great mysteries. I count five. The first, the honor of the Divine Crucified. “It is not
without reason,” says St. Augustine, “that the Incarnate Word has wished that His divine sign should
be marked on our forehead. The forehead is the seat of modesty, and He wishes the Christian not to
blush at the opprobrium of his Master. If, then, you make it in the presence of men, and are not at it,
count on the divine mercy.”9
2 Quæst., xviii.
3 In Psal. 138.
4 Moral., lib. xx. c. 18.
5 De panoplia.
6 De Baptism, c. vi.
7 Apud Sur, May 13.
8 There are two ways of holding the hand in making the Sign of the Cross. The first consists in extending the first three
fingers, and closing the other two. This manner, which distinctly expresses the mystery of the holy Trinity, was still much
used in the thirteenth century. The second consists in extending the five fingers, which recalls the five wounds of Our Lord.
At present this is alone in use in the Church of the West.
9 In Ps. 30. Enarr. iv. n. 8.
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The second, the honor of our forehead. “The Sign of the Cross,” says Tertullian, “is the sign of
foreheads, signacu1um frontiurn.”10 And St. Augustine: “A forehead without the Sign of the Cross is a
head without hair. The bald head is a subject of shame and derision. It is the same with the forehead
unornamented with the Sign of the Cross. Such a forehead is impudent. Have you ever heard one man
insulting another? He says to him ‘You have no forehead;’ Vous n’avez pas de front. What does this
mean? That he is impudent. May God preserve me from having a naked forehead; may the cross of my
Master ornament and cover it.”11
The third, the miracle of the Redemption. The Sign of the Cross is a trophy. Trophies are not
placed in obscure corners, but in public places, where everybody can see them, and in seeing them be
reminded of the triumphs of the conqueror. “Why then,” cries out the great Augustine, “should not the
Divine Word place on the forehead of man, on the most visible and noble of his members, the sign of
victory won by the cross over the infernal powers?”12
By passing from places of execution to the brow of emperors, it was meet that the Cross should
eternally proclaim the great miracle of the conversion of the world.
The fourth, the divine propriety. Re-entering into possession of man, the Divine Crucified has
marked him with his seal, as the proprietor marks those things that belong to him.
Says St. Caesarius of Arles:
As soon as the Redeemer had restored man to his liberty, He marked him with His sign. This Sign
is the Cross. Engraved on the doors of palaces, we bear it on our forehead. It is the Conqueror who
places it there, that all may know He has re-entered into possession of us, and that we are His
palaces, His living temples. The Demon also, jealous and furious, continually prowls around,
seeking to rob us of the sign of our freedom, the charter of our liberty.13
The fifth, the dignity of man. The forehead is the noblest part of the body; it is, as it were, the seat
of the soul. Whoever is master of the head is master of the man. Hence, of all parts of the human body,
the forehead is that which the Demon tries most furiously to deform. The deformation of this organ by
artificial compression has been practiced all over the world; in many countries it still exists. To
disfigure the image of God, to enfeeble the intellectual faculties, to develop the basest instinct; such are
the established results of this deformation, humanly inexplicable. Our Lord, the Repairer of all things,
wished that the Sign of the Cross should, by preference, be marked on the forehead, in order to deliver
it, and in delivering it, to restore to man, with the plenitude of his faculties, all the dignity of his being.
Respect is another condition required to make the Sign of the Cross well. Respect, because it is an
act of religion, venerable for four reasons; for its origin, for its antiquity, for the use which has been
made of it by the greatest and holiest men the world has ever seen, the apostles, martyrs and true
Catholics of the primitive Church and of every age; and for the glory with which the Sign of the Cross
shall shine on the last day, when, announcing the coming of the Sovereign Judge, it shall appear in the
clouds, brilliant with light, and be placed with dignity, beside the supreme tribunal, for the consolation
of the just, and the eternal confusion of the wicked.
With attention; without this, the redeeming sign is no more than a mechanical movement, too
often useless to ourselves, and perhaps injurious to Him, whose majesty, love and benefits it recalls.
10 Contr. Marcian, lib. v.
11 In Ps. 131.
12 In Joan., Pract. xxxvi.
13 Homil. v. de pascha.
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With confidence; but a confidence filial, lively, strong, founded on the testimony of ages, on the
practice of the Church, and the marvelous effects produced by this sign, formidable to the Demon, and
the liberator of man and the world.
With devotion; which places the heart in union with the lips. In making the Sign of the Cross, what
do I do? I proclaim myself the disciple, the brother, the friend, the child of a crucified God. Under pain
of lying to myself and to God, I must be all that I say.
Listen to our forefathers.
When you sign yourself, think of all the mysteries contained in the Cross. It is not enough to form
it simply with the finger; it is necessary first to make it with faith and good-will . . . When you
mark your breast, your eyes, and all your members with the Sign of the Cross, offer yourself as a
victim pleasing to God. . . . If, in marking yourself with the Sign of the Cross, you proclaim
yourself a Christian soldier, yet, at the same time do not practice, according to your ability, either
charity, justice, or chastity, the Sign of the Cross avails you nothing. The Sign of the Cross is a
great thing; it should be employed to mark only great and precious things. What use would it be to
set a golden seal on hay or mud? What signifies the Sign of the Cross on the forehead and lips, if
the soul be interiorly filled with crimes and stains?14
To make the Sign of the Cross, and yet sin, what is this to do? It is to place the sign of life on the
mouth, and to plunge the poniard into the heart.15
Hence the proverb of the primitive Christians: “Brothers, have Jesus Christ in the heart, and his
sign on the forehead: Habete Christurn in cordibus et signum ejus in frontibus.”16
Hence, also, the saying of St. Augustine: “God asks not for painters, but for operators of His
mysteries. If you bear on your forehead the sign of the humility of Jesus Christ, bear in your heart the
imitation of the humility of Jesus Christ.”17
We have every reason to act thus. Let no one say: “To make the Sign of the Cross, either well or
ill, is of little importance.” Christian ages have taught differently, so also has the Catholic Church, the
Mistress of truth, so also has the Truth in person. Admitting even that the Sign of the Cross is of little
importance, has not the Incarnate Word said: “He that is faithful in little things will be faithful in great;
as he who is unfaithful in little things will be unfaithful in great?”
Is it not this daily fidelity which forms the Christian life and prepares the eternal recompense? In
the affair of salvation, as in all other affairs, that which suffices is not sufficient. He who wishes to do
only what is necessary, will not do even that for very long.
Ten times a day I make the Sign of the Cross. If it is well made, behold ten more good works, ten
more degrees of glory and happiness for all eternity. Behold ten more pieces of money to pay my
debts, or those of my brethren on Earth or in Purgatory, ten more instances to obtain the conversion of
sinners and the perseverance of the just; to free the world and creatures from diseases, dangers and
scourges. Compute the sum of merits accumulated at the end of a week, a year, a life-time of fifty
years. And yet you say that this is of little importance!
14 S. Chrys., Homil. 55, in Matth. S. Ephr., De adorat. vivif. cruc. S. Aug., Serm., 215, de Temp. — Signum maximum atque
sublime. Lact., Div. Instit., lib. iv. c. 26.
15 S. Cæs., Serm. 278., inter Augustin.
16 Bed., t. 111, in collact. flor et parab.
17 S. Aug., Ser. 32.
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You now know, dear Frederic, the Sign of the Cross, and the manner of making it. Let me confide
to you an ambitious thought:
Suppose a stranger arrives in Paris, and asks which is the young man, who, among all in this vast
capital, makes the Sign of the Cross best. I wish that you might be named. At this price, I promise you
a life worthy of our ancestors of the primitive Church, a death precious before God, and, perhaps, the
honors of canonization: In hoc vince: By this sign thou shalt conquer.
This divine saying is ever ancient, yet ever new, for it is the formula of a law. Constantine, who
first deserved to hear it, is the type of man. The great emperor was advancing by forced marches to
attack Maxentius, a dreadful tyrant who was in possession of the capital of the world. Suddenly, in
calm weather, a little after midday, there appears in the heavens the Sign of the Cross, brilliant with
light, and visible to Constantine and the whole army, with the inscription: By this sign thou shalt
conquer: In hoc vince.
The following night, the Son of God appears to the emperor, holding in His hand the same sign,
and commands him to make one like it, to be carried in all his battles, and to be to him the pledge of
victory.
Constantine obeys. The heavenly sign, resplendent with gold and precious stones, dazzles the eyes
of his legions, and becomes the celebrated Labarum. Wherever this sacred ensign appears, confidence
animates the soldiers of Constantine, terror seizes those of Maxentius. The Roman eagles fly before the
Cross, paganism, before Christianity; Satan, the ancient tyrant of Rome and the world, before Jesus
Christ, the Savior of Rome and the world. And thus it should be.
Maxentius being defeated and drowned, Constantine enters into Rome. A statue is erected,
representing him holding the Cross in his hand, with the following inscription dictated by himself: “It
is by this salutary sign, the true emblem of strength, that I have delivered your city from the yoke of
tyranny, and that, giving liberty to the Senate and Roman people, I have re-established them in their
ancient majesty and splendor.”18
Constantine represents you, me, every baptized soul, the whole Christian world. Thrown into the
arena of life, we march at the head of our senses and faculties, to attack a tyrant far more dangerous
than Maxentius. Our Rome is Heaven; he tries to prevent our entrance into it. He advances against us
at the head of his infernal legions. The combat is inevitable. God gives us the same means of
conquering that He gave to the son of Constantius; the Sign of the Cross; In hoc vince. Now, as
formerly, this sign is the terror of demons, formido dæmonum. Let us make it with faith, and the way to
the eternal City shall be opened to us. Conquerors, and conquerors for ever, our gratitude will erect, in
the sight of the angels and the elect, a statue bearing Constantine’s inscription:
It is by this sign, the true emblem of strength, that I have vanquished the Demon, delivered
my soul and body from his tyranny, and that, by giving to my senses, faculties, and entire
being, their true liberty, I have established them for all eternity in the splendors of unlimited,
unalloyed glory: In hoc vince.
Hail, then, I will say, borrowing the language of the Fathers and Doctors of the East and the West
— Hail, Sign of the Cross, Standard of the great King, immortal trophy of the Lord, sign of life,
sign of salvation, sign of benediction, terror of Satan and the infernal legions, impregnable rampart,
impenetrable buckler, invincible armor, royal sword, honor of the forehead, hope of Christians,
remedy of the sick, resurrection of the dead, guide of the blind, support of the feeble, consolation of
the poor, joy of the good, dread of the wicked, check to the rich, ruin of the proud, judge of the
18 Euseb., Vit Constant., lib. c. 33.
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unjust, liberty of slaves, glory of martyrs, chastity of virgins, virtue of the saints, foundation of the
Church!19
You now have, dear Frederic, my answer to your two questions.
The authority of all ages resolves them in your favor. This triumphant apology for your noble
conduct, will, I hope, arm you forever against mockeries and sophisms.
On one side, you know how important and how solidly established is the habitual practice of the
Sign of the Cross; and, on the other, you have the means of appreciating, at its just value, the
intelligence of those who do not make it, as also of esteeming, as it merits, the character of those who
are ashamed to make it. In hoc vince.
F I N I S
19 Gretzer, lib. iv, c. 64, etc.