But--he is found! On the third day, he was seen in one of the courts of the temple appropriated to the Jewish doctors, where they were accustomed to lecture to their disciples. It might be, perhaps, in the room of the great sanhedrim, where they a.s.sembled in a semi-circular form. In front of them were three rows of the scholars, containing each three-and-twenty. It is probable, that Christ sat in one of these rows; and, perhaps, the questions he put, and the answers he gave, excited so much notice amongst the doctors, that they called him into the midst of them, which was occasionally done. Thus the Jews state, that "if one of the disciples or scholars say, I have something to say in favour of him (one that is put on his trial) they bring him up and _cause him to sit in the midst of them_; and he does not go down from thence the whole day." [14]
At the moment when his parents discovered the holy child Jesus, he was hearing and asking questions of the doctors, in which he displayed so much understanding, that they and their disciples were astonished. This is a lesson to youth, who should, gladly and submissively receive instruction, and may with respectful eagerness question their superiors. Let them avoid all offensive forwardness and conceit of their knowledge and attainments; remembering that he who could have taught the wisest of the Jewish doctors, sat at their feet _listening_ and _asking them questions_!
Feeling as a mother, but ignorant of the cause of this singular proceeding, Mary ventured, as soon as opportunity permitted, to remonstrate in these words, "Son, why hast thou thus dealt with us?
Behold, thy father and I have sought thee sorrowing!" We are to consider this language as rather expressive of anxiety, that of anger; yet, perhaps, it may be admitted to contain a mixture of both. His mysterious and unauthorized disappearance might seem to her contrary to the obedience he owed, and was so uniformly accustomed to manifest to his parents. Why did he tarry? Why did he not, at least, _inform them_ of his wishes to remain, and thus spare them the wretchedness which they had suffered during the past three days? Did he not know the tender love of his maternal parent? Did he not know the bitter tears she would shed, and the agonies she would suffer? Did he not feel the claim which she had upon his early years, and the reverence due to her character and piety?
Yes: these were considerations which he never overlooked; but he was absorbed in sublimer thoughts. Jesus was an extraordinary being, and the whole of this transaction ought to be viewed in connexion with the subsequent development of his designs, and the glory of his future actions. In it we have a glimpse of his superiority as the Son of G.o.d, and it was, doubtless, intended to attract the attention of his thoughtful mother, and to renew those meditations in which she had formerly exercised her mind, during the miracles of his nativity. His reply, "How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father"s business," or, at my Father"s? [15] would upon any other supposition, seem strange and unintelligible; and, accordingly, his parents did not comprehend him, being at present imperfectly versed in the mysteries of his kingdom. It was, however, perfectly in point, and full of meaning. Mary complained of having been so troubled to find him, and at the same time called Joseph his father. To which he replies, that she might surely have recollected that the temple was the most proper place to inquire for him, who, she knew, though a child, was already consecrated to so divine a work; that he was, in fact, where he ought to be, and about the proper business to which his life was to be devoted; and that, although Joseph were his reputed father, he possessed a higher relationship, and a n.o.bler character than could distinguish mere mortals. G.o.d was his father--this was his house--and nothing must impede his purposes. Still, however, he instantly complied with the wishes of his parents, went with them to Nazareth, and during many succeeding years veiled the splendours of his character in the obedience and concealment of his childhood. Mary, in the mean time, "kept all these sayings in her heart."
In detailing the life of Christ, the inspired evangelists do not often introduce his mother; and whenever she is mentioned, it is rather to ill.u.s.trate _his_ character than _hers_; but we feel pleasure in collecting even the smallest fragments of this divine record, that nothing may be lost; and while searching for MARY, let us rejoice that we are, at the same time, conducted to JESUS.
The next circ.u.mstance that demands our notice, is the history of the wedding-feast at Cana in Galilee. Here the Saviour and his mother appear as the most conspicuous characters. These, with the disciples of Christ, at present few in number, were expressly invited; whence it has, with sufficient probability, been thought that it was the marriage of one of his own relations.
It seems highly becoming the dignity of the Saviour to sanction, by his holy presence, the inst.i.tution of marriage in general, and to sanctify its observance on the present occasion in particular. Its utility, in reference to individual comfort and to the interests of society at large, renders "marriage honourable in all;" and while it would be ungrateful to Providence, not to accept with suitable emotions of cheerfulness the blessing which has been so long and so eagerly sought, it must always be injurious to character to indulge in extravagant merriment or indecorous festivity. Let persons forming such a connection aim to chastise their mirth with a solid piety, recollecting that while they are allowed to be cheerful, they must not be intemperate.
At the feast of Cana, the wine failed. The poverty of the family might not admit of a very liberal supply, or a larger number of visiters might come than had been expected. Mary immediately informed her Son. She saw that this circ.u.mstance occasioned confusion, she knew the power of Jesus, and she wished to spare the feelings of the new-married pair, who might have been exposed to censure for the scantiness of the supply. If these were her real sentiments, they were worthy of her character and s.e.x. Let this example of amiable concern for the reputation of another, and the general comfort of the guests at this nuptial feast, stimulate us to an imitation of her kindness. How common is it for persons to depreciate and ridicule each other, availing themselves of trifling mistakes or unimportant oversights, to awaken prejudices and to exasperate dislikes! Envy is so prevalent in the world, so natural to the human heart, and so inconceivably diversified in its methods of operation, that we cannot be too much warned against it, especially as its venom lies concealed, hut often works effectually.
The female s.e.x, of which we have before us so fine a specimen, are naturally attentive and kind, skilful to discern, quick to feel, and prompt to relieve the wants of others. They seem endowed with a generosity, in which it is their honour to excel, while it is their duty to cultivate and indulge it. Are comforts needed? Their ready hands will supply them. Is pain suffered? Their tender hearts will sympathize and aim to alleviate it. They are officious to replenish the cup of joy, and no less prompt to sweeten and mitigate the bitter draughts of sorrow. To them we look to increase our pleasures in the days of prosperity--for them we do not ask in vain to sustain our aching head, and to smooth the pillow of sickness and of death!
But if the views we have imputed to Mary really dictated the intimation which she gave to Jesus, respecting the deficiency of wine, it may be asked, how came she to meet with so austere a reply, as "Woman, what have I to do with thee? Mine hour is not yet come." This requires some attention.
In the first place, notwithstanding the feeling of kindness which dictated this interference, Christ might have thought it necessary to a.s.sert his divine prerogative. It is evident, from her immediately directing the servants to do whatever he commanded them, she expected some miracle; for she was, no doubt, fully persuaded by this time of his being the Messiah.
But, though endowed with maternal authority, it was not her province to point out the course of his proceeding as Lord of all. He was willing, however, to grant her wishes; but, by this language, imposed secrecy. He would choose the moment and the proper manner of imparting the necessary supply. One would almost infer from the injunction of Mary to the servants, that he had informed her of his intentions; and that while he felt no displeasure at her request, it was necessary to wait his divine will.
In the next place, the words were, probably, not so disrespectful as they at first appear. Some have thought the original phrase might be rendered, "What is that to thee and me?" meaning, "What concern have we in this want of wine? it is the duty of others to provide, and not ours." It must be admitted, however, that this interpretation is not so honourable to the benevolent character of Christ, nor so natural, under all the circ.u.mstances, since Mary was evidently and properly concerning herself, as a relative in this affair, and the use of similar expressions in other parts of Scripture imply some degree of reproof. [16] Considering the divine character of our Lord, this phraseology was not improper, because in what concerned his office she had no authority over him; and Mary, impressed with a sense of his extraordinary character, which was every day increasingly developing himself, withdrew in reverential silence to enjoin the necessary obedience upon the servants. She felt, and let us never forget, that the endearments of friendship and the tender ties of consanguinity must not interfere with the superior claims of religion and of Christ.
The greatest objection seems to attach to the use of the abrupt and disrespectful term "woman;" but the usages of antiquity prove that this mode of address was quite different in meaning from what it appears in English. The politest writers, and most accomplished princes, adopted it in addressing ladies of quality; and even servants sometimes spoke to their mistresses in this manner. [17] In the last and tender scene of the cross, it is not to be imagined that the dying Son should intentionally, or even inadvertently, wound the feelings of a weeping mother, and at the very moment too when affectionately commending her to the care of his surviving friend and disciple; and yet his address is precisely similar: "_woman_, behold thy Son!"
Jesus soon issued his orders to the servants to fill six water-pots of stone, which were at hand, and were commonly used for washing cups and other vessels, and the hands and feet of the guests, according to the Jewish custom of purifying. [18] The water, to the astonishment of all present, be turned into wine of so excellent a flavour as to excite particular notice. This was the beginning of his public miracles, a wonderful display of his glory, and a means of confirming the minds of his disciples.
"There is a marriage whereto we are invited; yea, wherein we are already interested; not as the guests only, but as the bride; in which there shall be no want of the wine of gladness. It is marvel if in these earthly banquets there be not some lack. "In thy presence, O Saviour, there is fulness of joy, and at thy right hand there are pleasures for evermore."
Blessed are they that are called to the marriage-supper of the Lamb." [19]
As the extraordinary character of Christ became from this moment increasingly apparent, it is easy to believe that the strong feelings of maternal tenderness in the bosom of Mary blended themselves more and more with a spiritual affection. She was indeed, in one sense, the mother of our Lord, but she was also his disciple--she had been guide of his childhood, but she sat at the feet of his maturity. As he ascended to an immeasurable elevation above every other being of the human race, she must feel that the authority of the earthly parent, although it were never disregarded or disavowed, but, on the contrary, must have impressed a peculiarity both upon his affection and hers, was, however, absorbed in the superiority of his heavenly commission. He obeyed her as a child, but she submitted to him as the Lord.
Does the observant eye of a mother watch with unutterable solicitude the progress of her beloved offspring, tracing the improvement of his mind, the development of his faculties, the career of his life, sympathizing with his sorrows and partic.i.p.ating with his joys, taking a fond share in all that concerns him--his prospects, his pursuits, his whole character;--does the maternal heart, even in ordinary cases, feel so much and so long, cherishing such undiminished interest in every vicissitude that affects the son of her love? With what lively sensibility must Mary have contemplated the rising glory of the inimitable Jesus! What a track of majesty must have marked his footsteps! What a winning singularity must have distinguished his actions! What purity must have adorned his conduct!
What "grace was poured into his lips!" Who can express the deep interest that his thoughtful mother must have felt in the discourses she heard, the wisdom with which he silenced gainsayers, penetrated human hearts, exposed secret motives and purposes, confounded the most wise and artful, and communicated the sublimest truths in the most commanding and lucid manner!
How must she have felt to have been the witness of his astonishing miracles, to have seen the flashes of unearthly dignity breaking through the concealment of a human exterior, and to have traced the accomplishment of all that prophets had foretold and angels announced! O, what an honour to have been the _mother_, but still more so to be the _disciple_ of him who was predicted by prophets, prefigured by types, attended by ministering angels, celebrated by the most eminent of the Jewish church, obeyed by all the elements of nature, the princ.i.p.alities of darkness, and the powers of heaven;--who, "being in the form of G.o.d, thought it not robbery to be equal with G.o.d; but made himself of no reputation, and took upon him the form of a servant, and was made in the likeness of men!"
The sacred history, which is chiefly occupied in the life of Christ himself, and the detail of his actions, does not explain how often his mother accompanied him. The incidental mention of her and his brethren upon one occasion shows, however, what we cannot but infer, that she was one of his frequent attendants. He was talking "to the people" in a private house, with the instructive familiarity for which he was so remarkable, when "his mother and his brethren stood without, desiring to speak with him." They had something of importance to communicate, otherwise it cannot be supposed they would have interrupted his conversation; but, being unable to reach him on account of the mult.i.tude, their wishes were conveyed from one to another, till the person who stood by him intimated that his mother and brethren were waiting to speak with him. Availing himself of the circ.u.mstance to impress his admonition upon the a.s.sembled crowd, he said to the person who informed, "Who is my mother? and who are my brethren?" Then addressing the people as he pointed to the disciples, he exclaimed, "Behold my mother, and my brethren! For whosoever shall do the will of my Father which is in heaven, the same is my brother and sister and mother."
Did he then intend to pour contempt upon these near relatives? Did he disclaim the ties of kindred? Did he exclude Mary, James, and Joses, Simeon and Judas, from the honour and the happiness of partic.i.p.ating those spiritual blessings which he so liberally dispensed to others?--Surely not. Applying to this the same principle of interpretation which was adopted in explaining his words at the feast of Cana, we infer that he meant to intimate that they who called him brother according to the flesh, and even she who bore him, need not be envied by those whom he admitted to the intimacy and happiness of a spiritual relationship; and that whatever of love and kindness could be supposed to arise from the natural connexion, was enjoyed in a n.o.bler sense by virtue of a spiritual union.
Every thing that can consummate the happiness of man, every thing that can secure the most glorious and permanent distinction, arises from being the disciple of the blessed Jesus, and "doing the will of his Father." Let such an one envy no more the possessions of time, for he is heir to the inheritance of heaven; let him not value at too high a price any human honour, t.i.tle, or relationship, for he is a member of the "household of G.o.d."
We now hasten to a scene calculated at once to excite our liveliest sensibilities and our warmest grat.i.tude--a scene upon which the eyes of the remotest ages were fixed with holy antic.i.p.ation, and which all future generations will contemplate with retrospective joy--a scene distinguished by the most affecting incidents--in one of which, not the least remarkable, the mother of our Lord appears conspicuous.
It is observable, that whenever he alluded to the circ.u.mstances of his own death, Christ adopted a mode of speaking which is expressive of the most dignified composure of mind, united with an irresistible firmness of purpose. He advanced to the cross of martyrdom like one who, "for the joy that was set before him, despised the shame." His love to man annihilated the terror of death, and rendered him solicitous to shed his blood. "I have a baptism to be baptized with, and how am I straitened till it be accomplished." In the hour of previous conflict he intimated that this was the tragical but necessary design of his coming into the world. From his radiant throne in glory, he saw, in awful perspective, the afflictions which were destined for his incarnate state; and, instead of a train of angels, he prepared to be attended by a retinue of sorrows, during his abode in the world. Above all, he beheld the CROSS, surrounded with awful clouds, raised amidst the scorn of human and the triumph of infernal enemies. He saw the full tide of misery set in against him; but, with unabating love to man, and perfect obedience of spirit to the Father--melting with pity and glowing with zeal--he prepared to encounter the billows and the storms of death. He was not overtaken by a calamity which he neither foresaw nor could prevent, for ten thousand angels at his word would have hastened to pluck him from the waves; but in fulfilment of the everlasting covenant, to glorify the Father and to redeem a perishing world, he was "led to the slaughter."
At this period all Judea was present to celebrate the paschal festival; the great council of the nation was convened; Herod, the governor of Judea, and Pilate, the tetrarch of Galilee, with their attending armies, displayed the grandeur of the empire; and on the mount of crucifixion a vast concourse of people a.s.sembled to witness this tragical scene. What must have been their sensations when nature became convulsed--when darkness veiled the sun--and the inhabitants of the invisible world burst through the trembling earth, and reappeared to many in Jerusalem! Never did an hour revolve since the beginning of time that laboured with such great events. The fate of the moral creation was now weighing in the scales--the happiness of millions was at stake--the interests of eternity were deciding--and the victory over sin, death, and h.e.l.l, was proclaimed by the expiring Redeemer, when he said, "IT IS FINISHED."
Amidst this scene of wonders, behold a group of females, no less similar in character than in name; Mary the mother of Jesus, Mary the wife Cleopas, and Mary Magdalene. Many women are honourably conspicuous in the records of the New Testament, but never did they appear with greater advantage than at this moment. All the disciples were fled, with the single exception of John, who had overcome his temporary apprehensions, and was returned to the field of danger. These pious heroines, although incapable of affording the glorious Sufferer any a.s.sistance, and although surrounded by an infuriated enemy, rose superior to the fears of their s.e.x, and pierced through the crowd, to testify their sympathy, to listen to his dying words, and to watch the expiring flame of life to the moment of its extinction.
What a scene was this for his MOTHER! How could she sustain the horrible spectacle? How could she survive this fiery trial? What inconceivable anguish must it have occasioned to witness the death of her _Son_! Say, ye mothers who have watched the infant days and progressive maturity of a firstborn, what distress ye have felt at his early loss! The flower perhaps had just expanded to the day, when the pestilential wind blew from the desert of death and withered its beauties! It is gone--but has left behind a sense of unspeakable desolation. How were your most delightful hopes annihilated in a moment, and ye were ready to adopt the language of David in his agony, "O my son Absalom! my son, my son Absalom! would G.o.d I had died for thee, O Absalom! my son, my son!"
But this was a death of the most ignominious and painful description. Mary beheld her Son suffering the shame of a _public execution_ and the torment of _a cross_. She saw him suspended between heaven and earth, as if unworthy of either, crucified between two malefactors, and insulted by an outrageous mob. She heard the revengeful speeches of that infatuated mult.i.tude, and the mutual congratulations of those by whom they were instigated, and who ridiculously imagined they had obtained a decisive victory! The terror of this hour and power of darkness pervaded her own spirit, and she lived to feel a greater horror than it is in the power even of the king of terrors himself to inflict.
This was the crucifixion of an _innocent Son_! He had experienced indeed the mockery of a judicial proceeding, but had been sacrificed to the ravings of a despicable and infatuated mob, the a.s.severations of perjured witnesses, the timidity of Pilate, and the hatred of every cla.s.s of Jews.
No guile was found in his mouth, no recrimination in his language, no impatience in his conduct. Conscious of perfect innocency, he yet submitted to condemnation and death as a notorious offender; and, with all things under his control, he did not lift a finger to stop the career of injustice, or arrest the course of infernal rage. If the mothers of his two a.s.sociates in suffering were present on this occasion, whatever bitterness of anguish they had felt to see the mournful end of their own offspring, they could not but admit that public crime demanded public punishment, and sentiments of commiseration must have blended themselves with those of censure when they viewed their fate. But the mother of Jesus saw her beloved Son condemned without reason, and suffering in defiance of justice. In proportion as she knew his innocency she must have felt his loss.
But his character was more than innocent; this, as the astonished centurion exclaimed, "Truly, this man was the _Son of G.o.d_!" Well might she wonder that no angel appeared to rescue the expiring Redeemer, and that he who had saved others did not save himself! Well might she have been confounded at the mysterious circ.u.mstance, that he whom winds and waves obeyed, and whose presence on earth was felt by universal nature, should die in apparent disgrace, exposed to the raillery of his inveterate enemies!
This afflicted mother was also a _widow_! Long since the evangelical narrative has dropped the name of her husband, doubtless because Joseph was no more; but Jesus survived to console her amidst domestic misfortunes, to cheer her declining days, to prop her falling house, to pour the wine of consolation into her cup of sorrow, and the light of celestial truth into her mind. He was all goodness, all perfection, who could never forget a mother--a _widowed_ mother, wherever "he went about doing good"--was to this awful hour her staff and comfort. How keen was the edge of that piercing sword of which Simeon spake, and what unparralleled grief was hers when she saw the cross, and the tortures, and the blood of her Son!
Notwithstanding all, Mary is not seen wringing her hands and tearing her hair in distraction; nor is she heard to utter intemperate language against his persecutors, or to manifest resentment at the dispensations of Heaven: she neither curses man, nor blasphemes G.o.d; nor do we observe her fainting beneath the pressure of acc.u.mulated woes; but she stands near the cross, in solemn silence, pondering, in an att.i.tude of profound meditation, and submitting to the purposes of Providence.
Let us admire the power of that "grace" which is promised to Christians, "to help them in time of need," and of the efficacy of which the present scene furnishes so substantial an evidence. Is it possible that after such a record as this we should ever doubt or forget the divine a.s.surances--"My grace is sufficient for thee"--"When thou pa.s.sest through the waters I will be with thee, and through the rivers they shall not overflow thee; when thou walkest through the fire thou shall not be burnt, neither shall the flame kindle upon thee?" Should thy desponding heart be ready to distrust the wisdom or deny the goodness of thy "Father who is in heaven,"
when sorrows, diversified and oppressive, burden thy spirit, think of the mother of Jesus at the cross of her Son!
If the sublime sympathy of Mary prevented the recollection of her personal condition, Jesus was not so overwhelmed with affliction as to be unmindful of the future lot of his poor, pennyless, helpless, widowed, and weeping mother; but committed her to the care of his disciple JOHN, directing him to regard her henceforward as a mother, and her to consider him as a son.
_Woman, behold thy son_--"My beloved disciple will fulfil every office of filial tenderness, and at my request he will receive and provide for my dest.i.tute parent." _Behold_, said he, addressing John, _behold thy mother_; "take her to thy house, allow her to share thy means, respect and supply her as the most endeared relative of thy dying Lord. I have no property to leave, no silver or gold to distribute: this is my fond and my only bequest. I have confidence in thy attachment, and when thou dost minister to _her_ thou wilt remember _me_."
From this exquisitely touching and instructive scene we must take a lesson of _dependence on the providence of G.o.d_. If he inflict unexpected trials, he affords unexpected supplies. His resources are numberless; and he who raised up John to supply the place of an endeared Son to Mary, can never be at loss for expedients when his people are in distress. One prop is removed, another is subst.i.tuted. "O fear the Lord, all ye his saints, for there is no want to them that fear him." Earthly cisterns may indeed be broken, and temporal streams of enjoyment may cease, but "the fountain of living waters" is inexhaustible.
Take a lesson _of filial piety_. Children are under an indispensable obligation to succour their aged parents. If amidst the agonies of crucifixion, Jesus so carefully provided for the future comfort of his maternal parent, be a.s.sured "he has set an _example_ wherein we should follow his steps;" and disrespect to such claims is a dereliction of our character, and a forfeiture of our profession as the disciples of Christ.
Learn to _be prompt in your obedience to every requisition of your Lord_.
It is an honour to be employed by him in any service, whatever it may cost us. John did not hesitate, or indulge in surmisings; he did not think of the trouble, the expense, or the possible danger of harbouring the mother of one who was executed as an enemy to Cesar; but "from that hour that disciple took her unto his own home." If the sacred history had followed him to his lowly habitation, where our imaginations are ready to accompany John and his venerable charge, it would doubtless have exhibited a specimen of tender friendship and unwearied a.s.siduity. What could John deny to the mother of his Lord? How eagerly would he promote her comfort!
What "sweet converse" would they "hold together" upon the life, the miracles, the doctrines, the precepts, the death of Jesus! What a gleam of light and joy would the remembrance of one so dear throw upon the darkest scene of their lives, and how would the glory of his subsequent ascension, and dignity in the invisible world, occupy their daily intercourse and their most devotional moments! "The sweet hour of prime,"
and the serenity of "evening mild," and "twilight gray," would still find them amidst the wonders of the cross or the triumphs of the resurrection.
Nothing more is said of Mary till we come to the Acts of the Apostles, where a brief but honourable notice closes her history. In an upper room at Jerusalem "abode Peter, and James, and John, and Andrew, Philip, and Thomas, Bartholomew and Matthew, James the son of Alpheus, and Simon Zelotes, and Judas the brother of James. These all continued with one accord in prayer and supplication, with the women, and _Mary, the mother of Jesus_, and with his brethren."
It is supposed that John took her with him to Ephesus, where she died in an extreme old age. There is a letter of the oec.u.menical council of Ephesus, importing, that in the fifth century it was believed she was buried there; but some authors think she was buried at Jerusalem.
Section IV.
Brief Account of the extravagant Regard which has been paid to the Virgin Mary at different Periods--the Names by which she has been addressed, and the Festivals inst.i.tuted to honour her Memory--general Remarks on the Nature and Character of Superst.i.tion, particularly that of the Catholics.
After reviewing, as we have done in the preceding pages, the _facts_ which are stated by the evangelists respecting the life of the mother of Jesus, the reader perhaps will not be displeased if he be presented with some of the _fictions_ with which the fancy and the folly of the human race have combined to embellish her history. That she has a claim upon the respect of every age and nation, will not be disputed: but we must condemn as well as compa.s.sionate that weakness which has exalted her into an object of worship, and filled the temples, which ought to have been devoted to the service of G.o.d, with unauthorized addresses, unscriptural rites, and idolatrous disfigurements.
The first notice we have in history of undue honour being rendered to the Virgin Mary is about the close of the fourth century, when the _Collyridians_ adored her as a G.o.ddess; and by various libations and sacrifices sought her protection, and hoped to avert her displeasure.
Soon after this period corruptions multiplied in the church to an extravagant degree, and mankind departed more and more from the simplicity of religion. A disposition to pomp and parade usually marks a decline in piety; for wherever "the beauty of holiness" is preserved, gaudy decorations and splendid formalities will be deemed unnecessary. Surely G.o.d is not honoured by a service which he has never inst.i.tuted, and which is only calculated to divert the mind from the proper business of devotion and the supreme object of religious homage! In the fifth century, therefore, as piety languished, magnificence, with all her costly train, obtruded into notice. The riches of the church increased to an amazing extent; the altars, and chests for the preservation of relics, were made of silver; images adorned, or rather defiled, every niche; and the Virgin Mary, holding the child Jesus in her arms, every where occupied a conspicuous place. She had, besides, universally acquired the t.i.tle of Te?t????, or _mother of G.o.d_, which occasioned the Nestorian controversy.
The idolatrous service of Mary a.s.sumed, in the tenth century, new forms of extravagance and absurdity. Among the Latin churches, ma.s.ses were celebrated every sabbath; and afterward, what is termed the _lesser office_ was performed in honour of St. Mary. There are also indications of the inst.i.tution of the _Rosary_ and _Crown_, by which her worshippers were to calculate the number of prayers offered: the former consisted of fifteen repet.i.tions of the Lord"s prayer, and a hundred and fifty salutations of the Virgin: the latter, of six or seven repet.i.tions of the Lord"s prayer, and six or seven times ten salutations, or Ave Marias.