"I shall fear nothing even in the midst of the shadows of death." ~ The remarkable courage and fidelity of Madame de Lafayette

Portrait of Madame de Lafayette later in life. 

The town where I grew up is a small suburb of Philadelphia called Lafayette Hill. As a kid, I was only vaguely aware that the town was something of a historic site, mostly thanks to the General Lafayette Inn, a old-time watering hole that has perched at the curve of Germantown Pike since the 1730s. Situated a mere ten miles as the crow flies from Valley Forge, the area near the town was the site of an abortive attempt by British General Howe to bring the Continental Army to battle by cutting off a contingent sent to reconnoiter an area along the Schuylkill River where several important roads came together.

The general in command of the Continental reconnaissance column was Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de La Fayette, the dashing young French officer fighting under the command of General Washington. Lafayette had taken up a commanding position atop Barren Hill, and had stationed pickets on a somewhat lower rise to his north in an area that would latter be called Lafayette Hill. 

Lafayette's actions at Barren Hill won him praise from General Washington, but the details of that encounter are a story for another post.

Lafayette himself was a mere twenty years old when Washington gave him command of his 2,000 best troops in May of 1778. And as remarkable as he was to be given such responsibility at such a young age, he was, by that time, married to a woman who was perhaps even more remarkable than he was.

Lafayette had wed Marie Adrienne Françoise de Noailles on April 11, 1774 when he was sixteen, and she not even fifteen. After less than two years of marriage, Lafayette's imagination had been fired by stories of the goings-on in America. Against his family's wishes—and indeed, against King Louis XVI's formal decree—he left for America to join the cause of liberty, arriving in June 1777.

Adrienne remained behind, caring for an infant daughter, and pregnant with another. Sadly, her first child would pass away at age two while her husband was still en route to America. Her second daughter, Anastasie, would be born while her husband was recovering from a bullet wound in the leg he suffered at the Battle of Brandywine. 

It's hard to imagine the distress suffered by this very young wife and mother during this part of her life, but by all accounts she bore it well. Writing after her mother's death, her youngest daughter, Virginie, revealed the source of her mother's resilience:

All she felt appeared to her beyond her strength, and she placed herself under the protection of God to whom, in the midst of her disquietudes, she never ceased to look for support. [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 167]

But this would prove to be a mere prelude to what she would suffer in future years. Adrienne de Lafayette had been a devout Catholic all her life. She would need every ounce of faith and divine support to endure what was coming. 

During her husband's absence, the young mother would prove a gifted student in the managing of the family estates. As a member of the high nobility of France, she mixed and mingled in circles that included members of the royal family. 

Upon her husband's successful return from his American adventure, she gave birth to two more children, both of whom were named for aspects of America that were dear to her husband's heart. The daughter would be named Virginie, and the son Georges Washington. Young Georges would be christened with General Washington as his godfather in absentia, as acknowledged by Washington himself in a letter to Lafayette on October 20, 1782:

I have just sent for Mrs. Washington, who will think herself honored by yours and Madm. La Fayette’s notice. Make a tender of my best respects to her, and offer a blessing in my name to your Son, and my God Son. [The Writings of George Washington, Vol. X (1782-1785)]

It should be kept in mind that though the Marquis de Lafayette was a baptized Catholic, he embraced enlightenment thinking and had become a Freemason. He was also rumored to be a skirt-chaser, as was common among the French nobility of the time. Adrienne, however, remained a very devout Catholic to the end of her life, and exclusively devoted to the husband she adored. 

This devotion would be proved during the French Revolution. When the initial disturbances erupted in 1789, Lafayette found himself in the uncomfortable position of being suspected by both those loyal to the king, and by the commoners as well. As a champion of liberty abroad, he attempted to play a leading role in an orderly and peaceful transition of France from a monarchy to a republic. But when the revolution turned violent, the Lafayettes, as members of the nobility, became targets for arrest by the Jacobins. Fleeing France in August of 1792, Lafayette was captured and imprisoned by the Prussians, and later transferred to the prison of Olmütz in Austria. 

While her husband was playing a great and dangerous role in the affairs of state, Madame de Lafayette was running risks every bit as great. Despite the increasingly hostile attitude of the revolutionary government toward Catholics in general, and priests and religious in particular, Adrienne broadcast her devotion to the Church without fear:

The civil constitution of the clergy was a subject of great tribulation to my mother. She considered that on account of her peculiar situation, it was her duty to testify her attachment to the Catholic cause. She was therefore present when the curé de Saint Sulpice whose parishioner she was refused from the pulpit to take the oath. She was there surrounded by those who were most known for their aristocratic tendencies. She repaired assiduously first to the churches then to the oratories where the persecuted clergy had taken refuge. Nuns who had suffered insults would come to her for protection and likewise priests who had refused to take the oaths and whom she encouraged to exercise their ministry and to demand liberty for their form of worship. [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 191]

In September of 1792, Madame de Lafayette was arrested by Jacobin soldiers along with her daughters and an elderly aunt. She would spend several months crammed into cramped prison quarters with other political prisoners before being transported to Paris where the Jacobins were sending sixty people per day to the guillotine. She spent fifty days in various prisons in Paris during the Terror, expecting at any moment to be summoned to the scaffold. During that time, her grandmother, mother and sister were all executed. While in prison, Madame de Lafayette penned a will which included the following testimony:

O Lord, Thou hast been my help and my strength in the fearful troubles which have befallen me. Thou art my God; all the events of my life are in Thy hands; come to my help do not forsake me and I shall fear nothing even in the midst of the shadows of death. 

I have always lived and hope with the grace of God to die in the bosom of the catholic apostolic and Roman Church. I declare that it is in the principles of that holy religion that I have found my support and in its practices my consolation. I have full confidence that it will bear me up at the moment of my death. I believe in Thee, O my God, in all Thou hast revealed to Thy Church. I put my hope in all that Thou hast promised and my full confidence in the merits of Jesus Christ, and in the price of His blood. My wish is to conform my life to His, to unite my sufferings to His sufferings, and my death to His death. I hope, O God, I may always love Thee beyond everything and attain by Thy grace the bliss of loving Thee eternally. I accept unreservedly the means Thy providence may choose to lead me to that blessed end. 

I pardon with all my heart my enemies if I have any my persecutors whomsoever they may be, and even the persecutors of those I love, I pray God to grant them His blessings and to pardon them as I pardon them myself. O Lord when, by the means of Thy grace, I pray for my persecutors as sincerely as I now do, Thou wilt not reject my prayers for those whom I love, and thou wilt treat us according to the greatness of Thy mercy. Have pity on me, O my God! 

I declare that I have never ceased to be faithful to my country, that I have never shared in any political intrigue which could disturb its peace, that my most sincere wishes are for its happiness, that the principles of my attachment to it are immovable, and that no persecution can shake them from whatever side they may come. An example most dear to my heart sets me the example of these feelings. 

I give my tenderest blessing to my children, and I pray God at the price of my life, which I should have wished to devote to their happiness, that He may Himself bring about that happiness by making them worthy of Him. 

It is in the name of Jesus Christ that I pray for all these blessings. Filled with confidence in Thy loving kindness, I deliver up my dear children, I deliver up my soul into Thy hands. I know, my God, that it is to Thee I have intrusted those who were committed to my charge, and that Thou art powerful enough to restore them to me on the great day of Eternity, and to unite us all in a place where we may bless Thee for ever. In Thee and in Thee alone, I have put my trust. Have mercy on me, O God. [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 298-302]

God would hear her prayers. Adrienne was saved by the timely death of Robespierre on July 28, 1794 which ended the Terror.

Though no longer in fear of her life, Madame de Lafayette found herself yet in prison. Her release was accomplished in no small part due to the efforts of the American ambassador to France, James Monroe, and his wife, Elizabeth, whose importunate requests to their erstwhile ally became an embarrassment to the French government. Monroe's persistence was no doubt inspired by the fact that he and Lafayette had served together as young men in Washington's army at Brandywine.

Once released from prison, Madame de Lafayette learned of her husband's imprisonment in Austria. Sending her son, Georges, to the United States to reside with his godfather for safety's sake, Madame Lafayette and her two daughters made their way to Vienna, using their status as naturalized American citizens (and an assumed name) to ease a passage fraught with peril. Upon arriving there, they were granted an audience with Emperor Francis II. The emperor permitted them to visit the Marquis de Lafayette, but only on condition that they remain there in prison with him for as long as his term lasted. 

Engraving of the reunion of Lafayette with
Adrienne and daughters while in prison in Olmütz.

As it turned out, the term lasted another 23 months. The Marquis had been kept in solitary confinement for many months prior to that due to a failed escape attempt. Thus, he had no idea what was going on in the outside world, and when his wife and daughters suddenly arrived to be with him, his surprise was total. Adrienne found her husband in terrible health, despite the assurances of Francis II that he had been well fed and well treated. But the arrival of his family helped him rally his spirits and he soon began to revive. 

Life in the Austrian prison was miserable. Adrienne and her daughters saw no one except the officer assigned to deliver their meals. At no time were they given any utensils, and thus had to eat with their fingers. Worse, an open sewer ran just outside their window, filling the dank space with foul odors at all hours. Within a short period of time, these conditions played havoc with Adrienne's health. Her daughter, Virginie, wrote:

My mother's illness made rapid progress. The doctor was only allowed to see her a moment during the officer's visit. Being ignorant of the French language, he could not understand her but would express in Latin his fears to my father. She had a violent eruption first on her arms, which swelled in such a manner that she could neither make use of them nor lift them up, and afterwards on her legs. Fever scarcely ever left her. This state lasted eleven months from October 1796 till September 1797. During these eleven months, no alleviation of the prison treatment was obtained. She had not even an arm chair. Her sufferings did not in the least impair her spirits. Seeing her always serene always enjoying my father's company and the consolations she had brought with her, we were all less anxious than we ought to have been. [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 358-359]

What caused Adrienne the most dread, however, was that she and her daughters were forbidden to attend Mass, though there was a Catholic church very close by the prison. In the biography of her mother, Virginie includes letters from Adrienne to the Austrian commandant in charge of the prison politely requesting permission to attend Mass. Every request was denied. 

The Lafayettes would be released from prison in 1797 thanks in part to backchannel appeals from presidents Washington and Adams, but mostly due to demands from the victorious General Bonaparte whose defeat of Austria in his Italian campaigns had electrified France. Lafayette returned from captivity to find France much changed. Napoleon would come to view him as a potential rival, but allowed his family to live quietly unmolested in France in exchange for a promise that Lafayette would remain aloof from politics.

Adrienne's health would never completely recover from the years of misery in prison. On Christmas Night, 1807, she died surrounded by her beloved ones. The Marquis de Lafayette wrote a long description of her death and the last conversations which they had together in a letter to his friend, Marquis de Latour-Maubourg. "You never saw anything so extraordinary or so touching," Lafayette remarked regarding Adrienne banter as she drifted in and out of febrile delirium. "There was also a refinement in the way she expressed herself, a loftiness of thought which astonished every one. But what was admirable above all, was that tenderness of heart which she was incessantly showing." [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 400-401]

Adrienne was a woman sincerely attached to her Catholic faith, but who was also deeply in love with a man who had little use for it. Because of her love for him, she refused to make his apostasy an issue between them, though it clearly disturbed her. As the illness muddled her head and broke down her natural reserve, her heart's desire that her husband return to the faith seemed to become reality to her. Lafayette records the following incident in the context of her deathbed prayers:

Sometimes we could hear her praying in her bed. She made her daughters read prayers to her. There was something heavenly in the manner she twice repeated Tobit's prayers applicable to her state, the same she had recited to her daughters on seeing the steeples of Olmütz for the first time. I approached her. "It is from the book of Tobit," she said. "I sing badly that is why I recite it."

Another time she composed a most beautiful prayer which lasted full an hour. She only once or twice seemed in error about me, persuading herself that I was a fervent Christian. "You are not a Christian?" she said one day. And as I did not answer, "Oh, I know what you are: you are a Fayettiste."

"Do you think me so presumptuous," I replied. "But are you not a little Fayettiste yourself?"

"Oh yes," she exclaimed, "with all my soul, I feel I could die for that sect." 

[Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 408-409]

It is likely that she retained a hope that God would grant her husband the grace of final penitence. One of Lafayette's comments about her beliefs points to that hope, and possibly reflects a little wishful thinking on his part:

Her religion was all love and confidence the fear of hell never came near her mind. She did not believe in it for beings good, sincere, and virtuous whatever their opinions might be. "I do not know what will happen at the moment of their death," she would say, "but God will enlighten them." [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 402]

Shortly before the moment of Adrienne's death, she murmured that she was not suffering. Hearing these words, her nurse said: "No doubt she does not suffer; because she is an angel." [Lasteyrie: Life of Madame de Lafayette, p. 415-416]

Engraving of the death of Lafayette which accompanies Dr. Cloquet's account.

The Marquis de Lafayette would live on for another 27 years after Adrienne's death, passing into eternity in 1834. Among his later acts was a triumphal tour of the United States in 1824-1825 where he was celebrated as a venerable hero of American liberty. During that tour, he visited the site of the Battle of Bunker Hill, taking some soil from that hallowed ground back to France with him as a memento.

Whether Lafayette repented before breathing his last can not be known. A single sentence preserved in Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette by M. Jules Cloquet, MD, who was present at the deathbed, offers some hope:

The venerable rector of the church of the Assumption came to join in prayer with the family. [Cloquet: Recollections of the Private Life of General Lafayette, p. 278]

The same account records that Lafayette's catafalque was taken to the church of the Assumption where a service for the dead was performed before a large crowd of mourners. The Marquis's mortal remains were then taken to Picpus Cemetery in Paris to be interred beside the body of his beloved Adrienne. This cemetery is remarkable because it is also contains the mass graves of nearly 1,500 headless bodies—victims guillotined during the Reign of Terror. Among these victims are the sixteen Carmelite nuns of Compiègne, canonized in 2024, who went singing to their deaths. Burial in proximity to such saintly martyrs can not help but be efficacious. 

Spread atop Lafayette's grave by his son, Georges Washington, was the Bunker Hill soil that he had brought back from America during his tour ten years before. 

From that time even to this day, an American flag flies over the Lafayette gravesite.

"Nunc dimittis, Domine." ~ The last words of Thomas Jefferson, July 4, 1826

Detail from a portrait of an elderly Thomas Jefferson as painted by Thomas Sulley, 1821.

In a previous post, I examined some of the speculation about George Washington's death, and the curious legend that he had died having confessed himself to a Catholic priest. 

That has gone on to be the most popular post on this blog, garnering over 15,000 views to date. 

In the case of the death of Thomas Jefferson, there is considerably less cause for speculation. For one thing, Jefferson had been a Unitarian/Deist from his youth, and a consistent critic of Catholic beliefs and practices well into his years as a retired elder statesman. His correspondence indicated a disdain for the concept of the Trinity, an abhorrence for the priesthood, and belief that the early Church Fathers, including Saint Paul, had corrupted the teachings of Jesus. 

But anyone who studies Jefferson's life in detail knows that he is a deep old file: a brilliant mind, a gifted scholar, a diligent inventor, yes, but also a man whose shining parts did not extend to consistency in moral or religious beliefs. Many have noted with irony that the man who crafted the very sacred scripture of American liberty, the Declaration of Independence, was himself the master of several hundred bondsmen. The man who once described the teachings of Jesus as "the most sublime and benevolent code of morals which has ever been offered to man" was at the same time he said it very likely fathering children out of wedlock with a woman he owned. 

Jefferson had no love for the Catholic priesthood, particularly the Jesuits. Writing in 1816—two years after the Society of Jesus had had their suppression lifted by the Pope—Jefferson opined to John Adams: "I dislike, with you, their restoration; because it marks a retrograde step from light towards darkness." 

In another letter, he said the following to Horatio Spafford: 

"In every country and in every age, the priest has been hostile to liberty. He is always in alliance with the Despot abetting his abuses in return for protection to his own. It is easier to acquire wealth and power by this combination than by deserving them: and to effect this they have perverted the purest religion ever preached to man, into mystery & jargon unintelligible to all mankind & therefore the safer engine for their purposes." March 17, 1814.

Despite these condemnations, Jefferson maintained friendly relations with numerous Catholics, even bishops and priests, and was a staunch defender of their rights. While president in 1804, Jefferson wrote to a convent of Ursuline sisters in New Orleans, lately added to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase. Jefferson's letter, written in response to a query sent to him by the sisters, is remarkable for its deep tone of cordiality, almost humility:

I have received, holy sisters, the letter you have written me wherein you express anxiety for the property vested in your institution by the former governments of Louisiana. The principles of the constitution and government of the United States are a sure guarantee to you that it will be preserved to you sacred and inviolate, and that your institution will be permitted to govern itself according to its own voluntary rules, without interference from the civil authority....Be assured it will meet all the protection which my office can give it. I salute you, holy sisters, with friendship & respect. July 14, 1804.

Similarly, Jefferson wrote as president to the first Catholic bishop of the United States, John C. Carroll, in answer to a request made to him regarding the foundation of a Catholic Church in District of Columbia:

I have received at this place the application signed by yourself and several respectable inhabitants of Washington on the purchase of a site for a Roman Catholic church from the Commissioners. As the regulation of price rests very much with them, I have referred the paper to them, recommending to them all the favor which the object of the purchase would urge, the advantages of every kind which it would promise, and their duties permit. I shall be happy on this and on every other occasion of shewing my respect & concern for the religious society over which you preside in these states and in tendering to yourself assurances of my high esteem and consideration. September 3, 1801.

Portrait of Abbé Corrêa in Monticello.

Perhaps even more remarkable was Jefferson's relationship with fellow polymath, José Francisco Corrêa da Serra. Jefferson referred to Corrêa as his "dear friend," and their friendship spanned a number of years of Jefferson's later life. At one point, Jefferson invited Corrêa to reside at Monticello permanently—an offer that was politely declined, though to this day there is bedroom dedicated to him at Jefferson's mansion. Corrêa died in Portugal in 1823, and Jefferson would recall his friend in a letter written in April of 1826, shortly before his own death, as "a distinguished Savant of Europe...profoundly learned in several other branches of science, he was so, above all others, in that of Botany." Abbé Corrêa was an ordained Catholic priest, though perhaps not a particularly devout one. This excellent article at the American Philosophical Society website goes into greater detail about the Abbé Corrêa's life and works.

Given Jefferson's intimacy with a Catholic priest late in life, it is noteworthy to consider the last words of Mr. Jefferson, as recorded in B. L. Rayner's 1834 biography, Life of Thomas Jefferson: 

When the morning of that day came, he appeared to be thoroughly impressed that he should not live through it, and only expressed a desire that he might survive until mid-day. He seemed perfectly at ease, and ready to die. When the Doctor entered his room, he said, "Well, Doctor, you see I am here yet." 

His disorder being checked, a friend expressed a hope of amendment. His reply was, "that the powers of nature were too much exhausted to be rallied." 

To a member of his family who remarked that he was better, and that the Doctor thought so, he listened with evident impatience, and said, "Do not imagine for a moment that I feel the smallest solicitude as to the result." 

He then calmly gave directions for his funeral, forbidding all pomp and parade — being answered by a hope that it would be long ere the occasion would require their observance, he asked, with a smile, "Do you think I fear to die?" 

A few moments after, he called his family and friends around his bed side, and uttered distinctly the following sentence: "I have done for my country, and for all mankind, all that I could do, and I now resign my soul, without fear, to my God — my daughter to my country." 

These were the last words he articulated — his last solemn declaration to the world — his dying will and testament, bequeathing his most precious gifts, to his God and his country. All that was heard from him afterwards, was a hurried repetition, in indistinct and scarcely audible accents, of his favorite ejaculation, "Nunc Dimittas [sic], Domine — Nunc Dimittas [sic], Domine."

He sunk away imperceptibly, and breathed his last, without a struggle or a murmur, at ten minutes before one o'clock, on the great JUBILEE of American liberty — the day, and hour too, on which the Declaration of Independence received its final reading, and the day, and hour, on which he prayed to Heaven that he might be permitted to depart. [Rayner: Life of Thomas Jefferson, p. 428-429]

Why would Jefferson's last words be in Latin, lifted from the Canticle of Simeon [Luke 2:29] as found in the Vulgate of St. Jerome? And even more puzzling, this prophetic passage is specifically omitted from the famous "Jefferson Bible" which he created to expunge the miraculous accretions that he felt had corrupted the teachings of Jesus. I'm certainly not the first person to wonder at this. A somewhat later biographer from the 1850s found these words so incongruous in the mouth of the elderly Deist, that he put forward the conjecture that the phrase: "Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in peace," had been uttered in English, not in Latin. [See Randall: The Life of Thomas Jefferson, p. 547, fn 2]. 

A later account from the doctor who attended Jefferson on his deathbed, Robley Dunglison, claimed that Jefferson never uttered the phrase at all: 

...He then asked “Is it the 4th?” to which I replied “It soon will be.” These were the last words I heard him utter. In Mr. [William] Wirt’s eulogy of him, it is said that he clasped his hands and said “Nunc dimittis” [“Now lettest thou depart”]. No such expression was heard by me; and if any other person had heard it, it would certainly have been communicated to me. [Radbill: An autobiographical ana of Robley Dunglison, MD, p. 36]

Dunglison's work cited above was prepared in 1852, a full 26 years after the death of Jefferson.

The work of William Wirt, which Dunglison cites above, was produced in October 1826—four months after Jefferson's death. Wirt's short account is contained within a longer eulogy of Jefferson and John Adams entitled: A Discourse on the lives and characters of Thomas Jefferson and John Adams: who both died on the Fourth of July, 1826:

When that day came, all that he was heard to whisper, was the repeated ejaculation "Nunc; Domine dimittas [sic]," Now, Lord, let thy servant depart in peace! And the prayer of the patriot was heard and answered. [Wirt: A Discourse on the Lives and Characters..., p. 66]

So how likely is it that Jefferson's last words were actually a Latin phrase from the Vulgate of St. Jerome? Fairly likely, I'd wager. Dr. Dunglison's late account certainly does not preclude the possibility. Furthermore, it should be pointed out that Jefferson used the phrase with some regularity in his correspondence prior to his death. Here are some examples:

• In a letter to Judge Spencer Roane, dated September 6, 1819, discussing the foundation of the University of Virginia:

"A severe illness the last year, and another from which I am just emerged, admonish me that repetitions may be expected, against which a declining frame cannot long bear up. I am anxious, therefore, to get our University so far advanced as may encourage the public to persevere to its final accomplishment. That secured, I shall sing my nunc demittas [sic]." 

• In a letter to Joseph C. Cabell, dated January 31, 1821, also regarding the foundation of the University of Virginia:

"Nature will not give you a second life wherein to atone for the omissions of this. pray then, dear and very dear Sir, do not think of deserting us; but view the sacrifices which seem to stand in your way, as the lesser duties, and such as ought to be postponed to this, the greatest of all. Continue with us in these holy labors, until, having seen their accomplishment, we may say with old Simeon ‘nunc dimittis, Domine.’"

• In a letter to General Andrew Jackson, dated December 18, 1823, again discussing the newly-founded University of Virginia: 

"Perhaps our University which you visited in it’s unfinished state when finished & furnished with it’s scientific popln, may tempt you to make a little stay with us. This will probably be by the close of the ensuing year, when it may appear to you worthy of encouraging the youth of your quarter as well as others to seek there the finishing complement of their education. I flatter myself it will assume a standing secondary to nothing in our country. If I live to see this I shall sing with cheerfulness the song of old Simeon’s nunc dimittis Domine."

So if nothing else, it seems abundantly clear that "Nunc dimittis, Domine," was, in fact, a favored expression of Jefferson as mentioned by Rayner in his 1834 biographical account. 

Given that the 1840s and 1850s were a period of intense disapproval of anything that smacked of popery, we should not be too surprised that men during that era strove to expunge any near approach to that egregious sin from the heroes of the American Founding.

In closing, let us recall the uncontested fact, also mentioned by Mr. Wirt, that both Thomas Jefferson and John Adams did indeed pass into eternity on the same day—July 4, 1826—exactly 50 years after the release of the Declaration of Independence.

This is easily one of the strangest coincidences of all of recorded history. 

"Lord, increase my pain, but increase also my patience." ~ The death of Pope Saint Pius V

Pope Saint Pius V is saved from assassination by a miraculous crucifix.
Detail from an early 18th century anonymous painter of the Roman School.

May 1 marks the anniversary of the death of Pope Saint Pius V (1504-1572), one of my favorite Popes, as well as one of the most consequential Pontiffs of history. During his relatively short six year reign, from AD 1566 through AD 1572, Pope Pius V: 

• assembled the Holy League which successfully defended Christendom against the Turks at the Battle of Lepanto; 
• excommunicated Queen Elizabeth I, calling her "the pretended queen of England and servant of crime"; 
• issued Quo Primum which regularized the Tridentine form of the liturgy and made it valid in perpetuity; 
• issued Horrendum illud scelus which decreed that clergy caught in "that horrible crime, for which corrupt and obscene cities were destroyed by fire through divine condemnation" be stripped of their clerical protections and punished severely by the civil authority.
• declared Saint Thomas Aquinas a Doctor of the Church and commissioned a new edition of his works.
• put into effect the decrees and teachings of the recently concluded Council of Trent.

Pope Saint Pius V's feast day is celebrated on May 5 on the traditional calendar, and April 30 on the new calendar.

A solid, short biography of St. Pius V was published in 1895 by the Catholic Truth Society at Oxford, UK. I found several of the anecdotes in this bio to be of uncommon interest and revelatory about the type of man St. Pius V was. The first is a description of St. Pius's character written in part by St. John Henry Newman:

"I do not deny that St Pius was stern and severe as far as a heart burning within and melted with the fulness of divine love could be so, and this was the reason why the Conclave was so slow in electing him. Yet such energy and vigour as his was necessary for his times. He was emphatically a soldier of Christ in a time of insurrection and rebellion when in a spiritual sense martial law was proclaimed. St. Philip, a private priest, might follow his bent as he expressed it in casting his net for souls and enticing them to the truth, but the Vicar of Christ had to right and to steer the vessel when it was in rough waters and among breakers.

A Protestant historian on this point does justice to him: 'When Pope,' writes Ranke, 'he lived in all the austerity of his monastic life, fasted with the utmost rigour and punctuality, would wear no finer garments than before...arose at an extremely early hour in the morning, and took no siesta....The people were excited to enthusiasm when they saw him walking in procession barefooted and bare headed with the expression of unaffected piety in his countenance, and with his long snow white beard falling on his breast. They thought there never had been so pious a Pope they told each other how his very look had converted heretics. Pius was kind too, and affable; his intercourse with his old servants was of the most confidential kind. At a former time, before he was Pope, the Conte della Trinità had threatened to have him thrown into a well and he had replied that it must be as God pleased. How beautiful was his greeting to this same Conte who was now sent as ambassador to his court: "See," said he, "how God preserves the innocent!" This was the only way in which he made the Count feel that he recollected his enmity. He had ever been most charitable and bounteous; he kept a list of the poor of Rome whom he regularly assisted according to their station and their wants." [Wilberforce, St. Pius V, p. 9-10]

While excommunicating Elizabeth I as an implacable enemy of the Catholic Church, Pius V sympathized with Mary Stuart (aka, Mary, Queen of Scots) who was forced to abdicate her throne and was jailed in 1567. He wrote to her, and granted her a special privilege:

The heart of the Father of Christendom was full of deep compassion for the suffering Mary Stuart, Queen of Scots. He wrote to her letters full of sympathy comfort and encouragement, and when she was imprisoned by her cousin, Queen Elizabeth, the Pope, unable to rescue her, bestowed upon her an inestimable privilege which reminds us of the times of the early persecutions. As no priest was allowed to visit her, Pius permitted her to administer Holy Communion to herself with consecrated Hosts brought to her by a faithful attendant. 'Most dear daughter in Christ,' he wrote in one letter to the suffering Queen, 'ever since information has reached us of the troubles in your kingdom caused by your enemies and those of the true faith, we have never ceased to offer prayers for you to God and to secure those of others. Willingly would we assist you if we could even at the cost of life itself.'" [Wilberforce, St. Pius V, p. 14]

The banner Pius V presented to Don John
of Austria prior to Lepanto, badly
damaged during World War II.

As mentioned in a previous post, Pope St. Pius V believed that, when absolutely necessary, it was the proper role of the Roman Pontiff to call the nations to war in defense of Christendom as he did when assembling the Holy League to oppose militant Islam. Of course, the Holy Father understood that for a such a war to come to a happy and beneficial outcome, it must be just and ordained by God. To bolster this hope for the expedition of the Holy League, he declared a jubilee year, encouraged processions begging for divine favor, and invoked Our Lady's intercession on the campaign. He bestowed upon the admiral of the fleet, Don John of Austria, a beautiful red banner emblazoned with the figure of Christ Crucified, Saints Peter and Paul, and the words "In Hoc Signo Vinces." Again borrowing from the account of St. John Henry Newman: 

[The Holy Father] assured the general in chief and the armament that if relying on divine rather than on human help they attacked the enemy, God would not be wanting to His own cause. He augured a prosperous and happy issue not on any light or random hope but on a divine guidance and by the anticipations of many holy men. Moreover he enjoined the officers to look to the good conduct of their troops to repress swearing, gaming, riot, and plunder, and thereby to render them more worthy of victory. Accordingly a fast of three days was proclaimed for the fleet beginning with the Nativity of Our Lady; all the men went to Confession and Communion and appropriated to themselves the plentiful indulgences which the Pope attached to the expedition." [Wilberforce, St. Pius V, p. 15]

Of course, as with all great men, St. Pius V had no shortage of enemies. On one famous occasion, his life was threatened by a secret assassin who attempted to use his pious habits against him:  

Turning from the stirring events of his public life to the personal character of St. Pius, we find him all the time cultivating with unremitting energy the interior spirit of contemplation and union with God. Conspicuous among his other virtues was the heroic patience he displayed, especially in the grievous illness that afflicted him for many years and of which he ultimately died. He suffered agonies from stone. His refuge in pain was the foot of his crucifix and his constant prayer was this aspiration revealing the heroic patience of his soul: "Lord, increase my pain, but increase also my patience."

In spite of all he suffered he persevered in the austerity of his life. The strength to endure his pains amidst his incessant labour was drawn from continual meditation on the passion of our Lord. Before him on his table a large crucifix always stood at the foot of which were written the words of St. Paul: "God forbid that I should glory save in the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ," and before this cross he spent silent hours in prayer. His custom was to kiss the feet of the image of Christ crucified whenever he left or entered the room. On one occasion a dastardly attempt was made to take his life by poison placed on the feet of this crucifix. When the Pope bowed his head to kiss the feet he was astounded to see them move away on one side. At first he imagined that he must have offended his Lord, but on examination the poison was discovered and he saw that his life had been miraculously preserved. In thanksgiving he determined to spend himself more generously than ever in the service of his loving Master. [Wilberforce, St. Pius V, p. 18]

During the public Paschal celebrations of 1572, it was clear to all that Pius V's health was failing. He insisted on visiting the Seven Churches on foot on Holy Thursday, but his steps faltered and he had to be supported by his attendants. From the crowd, the commander of the Papal forces at Lepanto—Marcantonio Colonna—stepped forward and begged the Holy Father to enter a litter and allow himself to be carried. In response, Pius dismissed the plea and instead suggested that Admiral Colonna should renew the campaign against the Turks while they were still reeling from defeat.

A month later found Pius V on his deathbed:

Four days before his death he received Holy Communion and Extreme Unction on the day before his departure. He answered the prayers himself and then making a supreme effort knelt down and prayed for the needs of Holy Church. He then spoke to a number of Cardinals who surrounded his bed with something of the old fire exhorting them to do all in their power to carry on the crusade against the Turks and thus to secure to the full the advantage gained at Lepanto. "Give me a successor full of zeal for God's glory, and desirous of nothing but the good of the Church and the honour of the Apostolic See." Shortly after he again kissed the crucifix and then devoutly crossing his hands breathed forth his soul to God. [Wilberforce, St. Pius V, p. 24]

Pius V would be canonized in AD 1711 by Pope Clement XI.

Let's face it: A Pope like Pius V is very unlikely to be elected in the modern Church, and if elected, would be viciously attacked on all sides, both within and outside the Church. Even a soft-spoken moderate like Benedict XVI was not acceptable to those with worldly political power.

Let us offer a prayer that the current Holy Father, Leo XIV, will find an intercessor in Heaven in the person of Pope St. Pius V. May Pope Leo be protected by God from the machinations of those who desire the his downfall and the downfall of the Church. 

And may he be kept safe from the spiritual deceits and temptations of the Prince of Lies who prowls the world seeking the ruin of souls. May he be inspired with the divine courage necessary to do what must be done to restore the Church and bring the whole of suffering humanity out of error and to the foot of the Cross of Jesus Christ.

Pope Saint Pius V, pray for us. 

Deus Non Vult? - Pope Leo XIV, Donald Trump, Clermont, and Lepanto

Medal showing Pope St. Pius V struck in honor of the victory of the Holy League at Lepanto.

Last week's blow-up between the Roman Catholic Pontiff and the American President generated considerable heat, but not very much light. Every pundit and influencer on every side registered an opinion, and most of them were ill-informed, facile, or just plain wrong.

Does the Pope have a right to sound off on political questions, even when his opinions are directly critical of a given country's current policies and actions? Of course he does. Popes have been doing this for centuries, millennia even, sometimes at tremendous cost to themselves. Many modern critics of the Papacy have often attacked Popes in hindsight for not sounding off loudly enough or soon enough on such issues.

Should Catholics be surprised if the Holy Father receives return-fire when he wades into political issues? No, we should not, particularly in the United States. There may be many Catholics in the U.S. but the vast majority of the country is not Catholic. When the Pope steps into the political arena, no Catholic should expect meek acquiescence from non-Catholic political figures who, rightly or wrongly, feel targeted.

Were Mr. Trump's broadsides against the Holy Father appropriate? I would say "yes" but only to the extent that Mr. Trump is a non-Catholic political figure who lives in a country where freedom of speech is enshrined as a civil right. Trump takes full advantage of that freedom, having made his reputation as a blunt-talking political street-fighter. There is very little nuance in what Mr. Trump says. If you say or do things he doesn't like, he won't pretend to be polite to your face and throw ashtrays in private. He'll tell you straight out what he thinks, vulgarities included. While this kind of talk tends to make America grate again on the world stage, it's hard to deny that his style has been a political success. Compared to the duplicity of most political figures, Trumps transparency is seen as refreshing by many. 

Trump's TruthSocial post calling Leo "WEAK on crime and terrible for foreign policy," was crass, provocative, and not thoughtfully presented. But coming as it did from a non-Catholic political figure who has no particular love or respect for the Papacy as an institution, it was not inappropriate. If you asked me whether Trump's obloquy was smart or effective, my answer is an emphatic "no" on both counts. Trump's attacks on Leo generated only expressions of horror, dismay, or misguided defense from his Catholic supporters, infighting amongst Catholics more generally, and joy from the anti-Catholic political Left who were only too happy to amplify the comments to foment division within the Church. 

In short, the Pope has the right and the duty to speak publicly and forcefully on pressing political issues. At the same time, he must realize that such comments will be polarizing and may engender or exacerbate exactly the types of conflict he's hoping to ameliorate. 

With the polemics flying last week, there was one statement by the Holy Father that caused some needless confusion among Catholics. It is this: 

"God does not bless any conflict. Anyone who is a disciple of Christ, the Prince of Peace, is never on the side of those who once wielded the sword and today drop bombs. Military action will not create space for freedom or times of #Peace, which comes only from the patient promotion of coexistence and dialogue among peoples." [Pope Leo XIV, on X, April 10, 2026]

Posted as a stand-alone statement on social media, this statement seems to contradict the teachings of most of the previous Popes until very recently. By way of example, here is an excerpt from Blessed Pope Urban II's speech at Clermont in AD 1095, as recorded by Balderick of Dol:

Click for more info.

"If, forsooth, you wish to be mindful of your souls, either lay down the girdle of such knighthood, or advance boldly, as knights of Christ, and rush as quickly as you can to the defence of the Eastern Church. For she it is from whom the joys of your whole salvation have come forth, who poured into your mouths the milk of divine wisdom, who set before you the holy teachings of the Gospels. We say this, brethren, that you may restrain your murderous hands from the destruction of your brothers, and in behalf of your relatives in the faith oppose yourselves to the Gentiles. Under Jesus Christ, our Leader, may you struggle for your Jerusalem, in Christian battle-line, most invincible line, even more successfully than did the sons of Jacob of old — struggle, that you may assail and drive out the Turks, more execrable than the Jebusites, who are in this land, and may you deem it a beautiful thing to die for Christ in that city in which He died for us. But if it befall you to die this side of it, be sure that to have died on the way is of equal value, if Christ shall find you in His army. God pays with the same shilling, whether at the first or eleventh hour. You should shudder, brethren, you should shudder at raising a violent hand against Christians; it is less wicked to brandish your sword against Saracens. It is the only warfare that is righteous, for it is charity to risk your life for your brothers." [Krey: The First Crusade, p 35].

Later, in this same account, we see Bishop Adhemar of Puy receive the blessing of Pope Urban and undertake his commission as official Papal legate of the crusaders. 

As those present were thus clearly informed by these and other words of this kind from the apostolic lord, the eyes of some were bathed in tears; some trembled, and yet others discussed the matter. However, in the presence of all at that same council, and as we looked on, the Bishop of Puy, a man of great renown and of highest ability, went to the Pope with joyful countenance and on bended knee sought and entreated blessing and permission to go. Over and above this, he won from the Pope the command that all should obey him, and that he should hold sway over all the army in behalf of the Pope, since all knew him to be a prelate of unusual energy and industry. [Balderic of Dol's account of Urban II's speech at Clermont in Krey: The First Crusade, p. 36].

15th century miniature of Pope Urban II presiding at Clermont. Upon his call for a crusade,
the assembled cried, "Deus Vult!" ~ God wills it!

About 500 years later, Pope Saint Pius V sent this letter to Don John of Austria who had been given command over the forces of the Holy League in AD 1571: 

To our well-beloved son in Christ, health and the apostolic benediction. Almighty God, the author of all good, has been pleased that, with his divine favour, the League should be concluded, which our right dear son in Christ the Catholic King of the Spains your brother, and the Illustrious Republic of the Venetians some months ago began to negotiate against the most cruel tyrant, the lord of the Turks; which having come to so good an issue, it appeared to us right to congratulate your nobleness on the occasion, as by these letters we do, being assured that our message will be welcome and agreeable to you, on account both of your piety towards God, and of your desire for the increase of the Christian world. Greatly do we rejoice to behold you thus prosperously navigating this our sea, that together with the fleets of the other members of the League you may make a beginning of the destruction of the common enemy; and therefore do we entreat and warn you in Christ our Lord, that, imitating the virtue of the captains-general, your predecessors, you use your discretion diligently both to provide all things requisite to the success of the expedition and to avoid delay, which, in affairs of war, is so important and so praiseworthy. We would further urge this upon you with many reasons, did we not know that the business carries with it its reward in the common benefit of the Christian world, and your particular honour, and that you need no further exhortation from our zealous and fatherly love, being assured that your nobleness will never be found wanting either to the one or to the other.  Given at Rome on the 24th of May 1571 [Taken from Maxwell, Don John of Austria, Volume 1, p. 352-353]

When the Holy League's ships were ready to sail to meet their destiny at the Battle of Lepanto in October of 1571, we are told:

The Papal Nuncio, in virtue of the powers which he had brought from Rome, proclaimed a jubilee; the officers and men thronged to the churches to confess and receive the sacrament; and, with great state and ceremony, the Pope's representative, in his master's name, bestowed upon the whole armament of the Holy League — princes, generals, soldiers, sailors, slaves, and shipping — the Apostolical benediction, and announced anew the indulgences which in past times had been conceded to the conquerors of the Holy Sepulchre. [Taken from Maxwell, Don John of Austria, Volume 1, p. 383]

Any student of history can find dozens if not hundreds of additional examples of Popes summoning and blessing those who would make war for the defense of Christendom. This leaves the devout Catholic at something of a loss. Pope Leo XIV's statement is general and unequivocal in a way that appears at odds with prior Church teachings, as well as the words and actions the two Popes aforementioned, one of whom is Blessed, and the other a Saint. This is, perhaps a simplistic reading of the Pope's words, but that is the way most Catholics will read it.

I say this as someone who is not in favor of the current ill-conceived war against Iran that the United States has embarked upon. The rationale for this conflict has been haphazardly explained, and I struggle to categorize it as a just war as traditionally understood by Catholic doctrine. Politically, it seems like a foolish, short-sighted decision, appearing to be more a crusade to ensure the safety of the secular state of Israel than any kind of defense of Christendom. That said, I am happy to be proved wrong on any of these points should the miracle of an unexpected peace emerge in the chronically war-ravaged Middle East as a result of these actions. 

Lack of clarity and consistency in teaching, particularly on moral issues, was an unfortunate hallmark of the previous Papacy. One hopes and prays that Leo XIV will steer the course of thoughtful, prayerful nuance and consistency with his predecessors when offering his observations on political and foreign policy issues in the future. The last thing the world needs is a Pope who creates novel, contradictory doctrines which force Catholics into a position of having to side either with the current occupant of the See of St. Peter, or sainted Popes from history. 

As for Mr. Trump, he sees himself as an American patriot, and I do believe that his ultimate desire is for peace and prosperity among nations, even if, paradoxically, he thinks it takes B-2s and cruise missiles to accomplish the goal. He needs our prayers. I won't suggest that Mr. Trump attempt to be more nuanced in his public statements on social media—that will never happen. But perhaps Mr. Trump would do well to pray sincerely before he posts. A little humility would go a long way.

A better course of action for both the Holy Father and the American President would be to refrain from firing rhetorical fusillades at each other, and instead offer prayers that Almighty God will grant them both wisdom and charity. Based on the Holy Father's most recent statement, it seems like he wasn't intending to get into a shouting match with President Trump, and has declared that many of his statements have been misinterpreted by the media. In response, Vice President Vance has written a conciliatory post about the Holy Father, saying: "He will be in our prayers, and I hope that we'll be in his."

These are good signs. 

Leo XIV has only been Pope for about a year. He deserves an opportunity to grow into the role, and not be hammered for every diplomatic stumble. 

May Christ grant him the wisdom to be zealous and saintly Pope!

The Avignon Papacy at Mar-a-Lago? ~ Is the Trump Administration attempting to capture Pope Leo XIV?

Cardinal Pierre and Undersecretary Colby share a heated and contentious handshake
during their meeting in January 2026 (courtesy of DOW Rapid Response)

It is being reported with breathless enthusiasm by the normally Catholic-phobic Left-media that a meeting between Vatican US representative Cardinal Christophe Pierre and Undersecretary of Defense Elbridge Colby back in January of 2026 went sideways in dramatic fashion. Anonymously-sourced reports say that Colby threatened Cardinal Pierre that the US, "has the military power to do whatever it wants in the world. The Catholic Church had better take its side." 

As if that wasn't bad enough, it was reported that "one official present" made reference to the Avignon Papacy — a period spanning nearly 70 years when the Papacy was captured and controlled by the French crown. The so-called Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy lasted from AD 1309 through 1376 and encompassed the reigns of seven recognized Popes, five anti-Popes, and three French kings. 

Since this news was first reported, both the Vatican and the Trump Administration have issued vigorous denials, stating that things were completely cordial at the meeting. That said, it seems clear that something happened to make certain parties freak out, but perhaps not the bombshell shouting match between US officials and Vatican liaisons that Left-media wishful thinking attempted to insinuate.

Of course, the historically illiterate or purposely obtuse Left-media immediately made much of the alleged mention of the Avignon Papacy. Stripping the claim of context, they imagined it to be some sort of threat by the US to capture Leo XIV and set him up as Pope-in-Exile under US control, perhaps at Mar-a-Lago. 

Assuming that the reference to Avignon happened at all — perhaps a stretch considering how readily the Left-media lies and exaggerates as a matter of course — I have a different interpretation. Perhaps the "one official present" mentioned the Avignon Papacy in the sense that the Papacy has already been captured, and has been in a state of captivity by globalist elites since 2013. 

Now admittedly, that may also be a stretch, but let's consider a few facts:

• During the run-up to the 2016 election, documents leaked from Hillary Clinton Campaign Chair John Podesta dating from February of 2012 to various correspondents revealed ideas to initiate a "Catholic Spring" to sweep away the "middle ages dictatorship" at the Vatican. 
• In mid-January of 2013, Obama's campaign chief and closest advisor, David Axelrod, fresh off the presidential election victory, appeared in Rome, ostensibly to advise Italian Prime Minister Mario Monti. That seems like an odd thing to do on the eve of Obama's second inauguration. 
• On February 11, 2013, about a month after Axelrod's visit, Pope Benedict XVI resigned the Papacy.
• On March 13, 2013, Pope Francis was elected Pope while Benedict XVI retained the title of "Pope Emeritus".
• On October 31, 2013, the Italian magazine Panorama published an article claiming that the US National Security Administration (NSA) tapped phone calls of Vatican officials before and during the Papal Conclave of 2013.
• Obama's administration used Theodore Cardinal McCarrick as a liaison between them and Benedict XVI's Vatican. McCarrick happened to be in Rome on February 14, 2013. It is speculated that McCarrick was an ally of the Saint Gallen Mafia group that was instrumental in pushing Jorge Bergoglio forward as a papal candidate. McCarrick himself was a vocal supporter of Cardinal Bergoglio. McCarrick, of course, would be disgraced and laicized by Pope Francis in 2019.
• Archbishop Carlo Viganò has claimed for several years that Benedict XVI's resignation was instigated by "deep state" forces within the US.
• In February of 2025, LifeSite News posted a petition to the Trump administration calling for an investigation into whether Obama officials forced Benedict XVI to resign.

And finally...

• Yesterday, April 9, 2026, as the story of the contentious meeting between the Pentagon and Vatican officials made world news, who should appear at the Vatican? That's right...David Axelrod. Now what do you suppose he was doing there?

Again, I admit that this is all pure speculation. But just perhaps, the Trump administration took LifeSite's suggestion seriously, investigated the Obama administration's role in Benedict XVI's resignation and the election of Francis, and discovered some rather unsettling things.

If Obama Administration officials were implicated in forcing the resignation of a Pope and pushed for the installation of a hand-picked successor, that might create a scenario at least somewhat similar to the politics of the Babylonian Captivity of the Papacy in 14th century Avignon. 

So to answer the question posed in the title of this article: No, the Trump administration is not attempting to capture Pope Leo XIV. The administration may, however, be willing to reveal to the world that some parties within the Vatican are more loyal to global politicians than they are to the Holy Father. Such a scenario would explain the freak out and flurry of anonymous leaks to the Left-media about this story.

We shall have to wait and see what, if anything, comes out.

May Almighty God reveal the truth as He sees fit.

"The Easter Hare is Inexplicable to Me" ~ Is the Easter Bunny a Christian or a heathen?

The Easter Bunny as imagined by Johann Conrad Gilbert in the late 18th century.  

OK, I admit it. I have never liked the Easter Bunny. 

Of course, as a kid I did enjoy getting a basket full of malted milk chocolate eggs on Easter Sunday. But the idea that those delicious chocolate eggs with the rich creamery filling made by Cadbury were actually laid by a fat, white, clucking lagomorph—that was a bridge too far.

Then, there was also the iconic lazy Easter Rabbit of Looney Tunes fame (Easter Yeggs, 1946), who tricked Bugs Bunny into delivering the eggs for him. Part of me rooted for Elmer Fudd when he said, "I'm waiting for the Easter Wabbit. When he comes in looking so fwuffy and cute with his wittle basket of Easter eggs... BANG! Easter Wabbit stew." 

My own kids were absolutely terrified of the grown men dressed up in giant bunny outfits hopping around in malls and other places during Easter-time. Honestly, who could blame them?

Lastly, before I knew better, I just took it for granted that those folks were correct who claimed that the Easter Bunny was yet another echo of pre-Christian paganism that had been absorbed into the Paschal feast by Catholics, thereby introducing an inappropriate element of the absurd into the celebration of Christ's resurrection.

But then I dug up some interesting facts that have made me have a slightly different view of the Easter Bunny and his "technicolor hen-fruit" as Bugs called it.

At the top of this post is a drawing of the Easter Bunny made by Johann Conrad Gilbert (1734-1812), a first-generation American whose parents emigrated from Baden-Württemberg, Germany in the 1730s. The Gilbert family were authentic Pennsylvania Dutch, and the town of Gilbertsville, Pennsylvania was named for them. Johann was a Lutheran schoolmaster who would be posted to various schools around Berks and Schuylkill Counties in PA throughout the late 18th century. According to Find-a-Grave, he was married to Anna Elizabeth nee Stoltz and was the father of eight children (though his will lists ten). During the Revolutionary War, he served on a pair of armed vessels of war, Eagle and Vulture.

So the earliest reference to the Easter Bunny in America comes from good old southeastern PA. And if the Bunny has pagan roots, it's not the fault of Catholics. Mr. Gilbert was very much a Protestant. 

But of course, the Bunny doesn't really have pagan roots. That theory follows a very tenuous thread that begins with Venerable Bede, runs through the Brothers Grimm, is frayed by the German philologist Adolph Holtzmann, and then subsequently metastasized into a myriad of fanciful legends depicting the Bunny as the magical familiar of a Teutonic goddess. 

The story begins with a single short passage in St. Bede's work entitled De Ratione Temporum, which runs as follows:

Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated "Paschal month", and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month.  Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance. [Taken from "Bede on 'Eostre'" on Tertullian.org]

Readers of this blog will realize that this is not a shocking revelation given that Pope Saint Gregory the Great encouraged his missionaries in England to retain those festal or cultural practices of the people which are neutral or universal. That the Anglo-Saxon Christians in England retained the name of a pagan goddess in their common word for the month of April, and thereby transferred it to the Paschal Feast is no more shocking than a modern Christian celebrating Holy Thursday or Good Friday. I suspect not many modern Christians attend the Liturgy of the Lord's supper with the Norse god of thunder (Thor) secretly in mind. Nor do they imagine the Norse goddess, Frigg, among the women of Jerusalem during Christ's passion.

St. Bede's fleeting mention of Eostre was forgotten for over a millennium. Eostre is not mentioned anywhere else at any time.

By contrast, rabbits and hares had been mentioned occasionally in early Christian literature, and normally not in a laudatory way. They were most commonly presented as a symbol of either sexual profligacy due to the rabbit's awesome procreative powers, or as an metaphor for prey, cowardice and timidity. Writing in the late 2nd century AD, Tertullian compares his contemporary Christian community to hares due to persecution, saying, "We ourselves, having been appointed for pursuit, are like hares being hemmed in from a distance." [Tertullian, Scorpiace, Chapter 1]

Writing some two centuries later, Saint Augustine admits his timidity, but acknowledges his one hope of safety: 

For I will confess mine infirmity, to the end that I may be timid like a hare, because I am full of thorns like a hedgehog. And as in another Psalm [104:18] is said, "The rock is a refuge for the hedgehogs and the hares:" but the Rock was Christ. [Augustine of Hippo, Exposition on Psalm 71]

During the Middle Ages, literary rabbits developed into more fearsome creatures, occasionally inhabiting the margins of illuminated manuscripts bearing weapons or inflicting damage on someone deserving it. These images were meant to convey a certain sense of good-natured irony, and given how popular they are in our own times (see this article from the British Library), I would have to say that the monks who drew them have successfully conveyed their whimsical sense of humor across the centuries. 

14th century manuscript showing two rough coneys abusing a hunter. (source)

It wasn't until sometime in the late 17th century, however, that the legend of the Easter Bunny emerged onto the world scene. In a work entitled, Satyrae medicae, continuatio XVIII. Disputatione ordinaria disquirens de ovis paschalibus von Oster-Eyern (or Medical Satires, Continuation XVIII. Investigating in a formal disputation concerning Easter eggs), German physician and botanist, Georg Franck von Franckenau, wrote the following:

In Upper Germany, our own Palatinate, Alsace and neighboring locations, as well as in Westphalia, these are called "Easter-Hare-Eggs" (die Haseneier) because of a story with which they deceive the simpler folk and children: that a Hare (The Easter Hare) hatches eggs of this sort and hides them in gardens in the grass, bushes, etc., so that they may be sought out more eagerly by the children, to the laughter and delight of their elders. [Satyrae Medica de von Franckenau, p. 6 - When searching the Latin, look for the phrase: "In Germania Superiore, Palatinatu nostrate, Alsatia & vicinis locis..."]

Based on this, it seems that the Easter Bunny was an established tradition in certain areas of Germany by this time. It should be remembered, however, that Germany was not a single country in the late 17th century, but a patchwork of petty kingdoms and dutchies held together very loosely by a common tongue. What was traditional in Westphalia may not have even been known in Prussia or Bavaria.

It is safe to assume that the artist who created or Easter Bunny image at the top of this post, Johann Gilbert, was born into this tradition and his family carried it with them to Britain's American colonies when they arrived in the early 18th century.

About a century after Gilbert's birth, Jacob Grimm, one half of the Brothers Grimm of fairy tale fame, rediscovered the passage from Venerable Bede and mentioned "Eostre" (whom he called "Ostara") in his work, Deutsche Mythologie (Teutonic Mythology in English). Grimm added his own speculative embellishments saying: 

Ostara, Edstre seems therefore to have been the divinity of the radiant dawn, of upspringing light, a spectacle that brings joy and blessing, whose meaning could be easily adapted to the resurrection-day of the Christian's God. [Grimm: Teutonic Mythology, p. 291]

It should be stressed, however, that Grimm discovered no new mentions of Eostre in the historical literature. His assumptions are completely theoretical.

But theoretical though they may be, Grimm's elaborations of Eostre/Ostara were latched onto by another German, Adolph Holtzmann, in the later 19th century. It is Holtzmann who, in his 1874 work which was also entitled Deutsche Mythologie, proposed a speculative relationship between the Easter Hare and Eostre/Ostara. Holtzmann wrote:

The Easter Hare (Osterhase) is inexplicable to me; probably the hare is the animal of Ostara....However, in German mythology thus far, a hare appears nowhere...Moreover, the hare must have been a bird, since it lays eggs; perhaps Easter eggs do not even date back to paganism at all; for with Easter, the fasts end, and it is an old custom to consecrate eggs and meat in the church on Easter Eve, and children then receive such consecrated eggs. But the fact that one makes a nest for the children the evening before so that the hare can lay the eggs in it—that does seem to be a pagan idea. [Holtzmann: Deutsche Mythologie, p. 141]

All other connections between the Easter Bunny and neo-paganism emerge from this point onwards with no solid tie to antiquity.  

So to sum up, the Easter Bunny is a fun, humorous tradition that emerged in Germany and spread to other places around the world. There is no concrete evidence that he originated as a pagan spirit animal, only very tentative modern speculation and subsequent embellishment. And even if the mythical egg-laying hare had been part of a pagan German myth at some point in murky antiquity, the legend was religiously neutral enough to be adopted into Christian German cultural traditions with nary a trace of its origins remaining at all. 

Furthermore, it's worth emphasizing that however the legend developed, the Easter Bunny was not a Catholic tradition, but one that originated from German Protestants. 

But let there be no mistake -- the purpose of this article was not to give our lop-eared egg courier a bad name, so if like Bugs you've already got some bad names for the Easter Rabbit, maybe just reconsider calling him a sinister crypto-pagan or a demonic witch-pet. Given the connection cited by Holtzmann above, he was probably a good Christian fur-bearing critter, delivering eggs to those celebrating the end of their Lenten fasts and the making of all things new by our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.

Also, if the Bunny tradition in the US originated from southeastern PA, that makes him a home-boy, and we always root for the home team around here. 

"He commanded them to rebuild the Temple." ~ Julian the Apostate's spectacular failure to reconstruct the Temple in Jerusalem in AD 363

"For I am rebuilding with all zeal the temple of the Most High God." –Julian the Apostate
as preserved in De Mensibus written by John Lydus, 6th century AD

Like clockwork, whenever there's a military conflict in the Middle East, articles begin popping up regarding the rebuilding of the Third Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. Some claim that construction is already secretly underway. Others maintain that the Temple can not be rebuilt except by the Messiah. The topic even came up at a White House press briefing last October when a reporter asked Press Secretary Karoline Leavitt if the topic of rebuilding the Temple had been brought up in Trump cabinet meetings.

"It has not," Ms. Leavitt replied. "No it hasn't"

Given that the Temple Mount is currently occupied by the Al-Aqsa mosque, building the Third Temple would entail destroying the third holiest site in Islam. So for the foreseeable future, it seems that no serious attempt can be made. And honestly, it's better that way.

The Second Temple was destroyed by the Romans in AD 70 at the climax of the Jewish Revolt. Christ Himself predicted the Temple's annihilation some 40 years before the fact as recorded in the Gospel of Saint Matthew 24:1-2:

And Jesus being come out of the temple, went away. And His disciples came to show Him the buildings of the temple.  And He answering, said to them: "Do you see all these things? Amen I say to you there shall not be left here a stone upon a stone that shall not be destroyed."

The looting and razing of the Second Temple by Roman soldiers after the capture of Jerusalem is memorialized on the Arch of Titus in Rome.

Roman relief showing the looting of the Second Temple in Jerusalem by the soldiers of Titus.

The subsequent Bar Kokhba rebellion, which ended in AD 136, resulted in the defeat of the Jews by the Romans and their expulsion from Judea.

Between then and the present day, only one serious attempt was made to reconstruct the Jewish Temple on the Temple Mount. That effort was spearheaded by the Roman emperor Julian the Apostate in the early 360s AD. According to the 5th century historian Hermias Sozomen, whose Ecclesiastical History is well worth reading in its entirety, Julian showed favor to the Jewish people, but this was not inspired by any particular love for them. Instead, his goodwill toward the Jews was motivated by a desire to provoke his former co-religionists:

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Though the emperor hated and oppressed the Christians, he manifested benevolence and humanity towards the Jews. He wrote to the Jewish patriarchs and leaders, as well as to the people, requesting them to pray for him, and for the prosperity of the empire. In taking this step he was not actuated, I am convinced, by any respect for their religion; for he was aware that it is, so to speak, the mother of the Christian religion, and he knew that both religions rest upon the authority of the patriarchs and the prophets; but he thought to grieve the Christians by favoring the Jews, who are their most inveterate enemies. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

Sozomen offers the following rationale for why Julian allowed and encouraged the Jews to rebuild the temple:

[Julian] sent for some of the chiefs of the race and exhorted them to return to the observance of the laws of Moses and the customs of their fathers. On their replying that because the temple in Jerusalem was overturned, it was neither lawful nor ancestral to do this in another place than the metropolis out of which they had been cast, he gave them public money, commanded them to rebuild the temple, and to practice the cult similar to that of their ancestors, by sacrificing after the ancient way. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

With the cautionary wisdom of hindsight, Sozomen explains how fully and joyfully the Jews—and even many pagans—took to the monumental, but ultimately futile, task:

The Jews entered upon the undertaking, without reflecting that, according to the prediction of the holy prophets, it could not be accomplished. They sought for the most skillful artisans, collected materials, cleared the ground, and entered so earnestly upon the task, that even the women carried heaps of earth, and brought their necklaces and other female ornaments towards defraying the expense. The emperor, the other pagans, and all the Jews, regarded every other undertaking as secondary in importance to this. Although the pagans were not well-disposed towards the Jews, yet they assisted them in this enterprise, because they reckoned upon its ultimate success, and hoped by this means to falsify the prophecies of Christ. Besides this motive, the Jews themselves were impelled by the consideration that the time had arrived for rebuilding their temple. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

They had not long been at this work, however, when tragedy struck:

When they had removed the ruins of the former building, they dug up the ground and cleared away its foundation; it is said that on the following day when they were about to lay the first foundation, a great earthquake occurred, and by the violent agitation of the earth, stones were thrown up from the depths, by which those of the Jews who were engaged in the work were wounded, as likewise those who were merely looking on. The houses and public porticos, near the site of the temple, in which they had diverted themselves, were suddenly thrown down; many were caught thereby, some perished immediately, others were found half dead and mutilated of hands or legs, others were injured in other parts of the body. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

This earthquake, which is well attested in literary sources of the period and via archaeological evidence, was very destructive, but it was not enough to discourage these eager builders from a task which was mandated not only by the emperor but, they felt, by God himself. Yet, their desire to resume the work met such a serious check that the builders found themselves unable to continue:

[I]nstead of regarding this unexpected earthquake as a manifest indication that God was opposed to the re-erection of their temple, [the Jews] proceeded to recommence the work. But all parties relate, that they had scarcely returned to the undertaking, when fire burst suddenly from the foundations of the temple, and consumed several of the workmen. This fact is fearlessly stated, and believed by all; the only discrepancy in the narrative is that some maintain that flame burst from the interior of the temple, as the workmen were striving to force an entrance, while others say that the fire proceeded directly from the earth. In whichever way the phenomenon might have occurred, it is equally wonderful. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

This second disaster was enough to dampen the ardor of even the most enthusiastic of the re-builders. Beyond that, Sozomen claims that yet another miraculous occurrence connected to the Temple re-build led many to embrace the Christian religion: 

A more tangible and still more extraordinary prodigy ensued; suddenly the sign of the cross appeared spontaneously on the garments of the persons engaged in the undertaking. These crosses were disposed like stars, and appeared the work of art. Many were hence led to confess that Christ is God, and that the rebuilding of the temple was not pleasing to Him; others presented themselves in the church, were initiated, and besought Christ, with hymns and supplications, to pardon their transgression. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

These events took place in AD 363, a few months before Julian himself was killed while on campaign in Persia. With the emperor's death, the Christian Jovian was elevated to the throne, thus ending the short-lived reconstruction effort on the Temple Mount.

It is easy to discard Sozomen's account as the fantastical tale of a later Christian. While it's true that Sozomen was not a contemporary of Julian, he was likely born within 20 to 30 years of Julian's demise, and was actively writing within the living memory of the events. It should also be remembered that Sozomen was a native of Bethelia, a town in Roman Palestine near Gaza, and it is clear from his writing about other historical episodes in and around Palestine that he was intimately familiar with the local lore. From his closing passage on this particular topic, Sozomen hints that he himself had spoken to those who witnessed the failed effort to resurrect the Jewish Temple:

If any one does not feel disposed to believe my narrative, let him go and be convinced by those who heard the facts I have related from the eyewitnesses of them, for they are still alive. Let him inquire, also, of the Jews and pagans who left the work in an incomplete state, or who, to speak more accurately, were able to commence it. [Ecclesiastical History of Sozomen, Book V, Chapter 22]

For any who may find the preceding story a tough one to swallow coming as it does from an unapologetic Christian source of great antiquity, perhaps consider that there are numerous other accounts of it, including one from the Roman History of Ammianus Marcellinus. Recall that Marcellinus was a pagan and furthermore, was a direct contemporary of Julian, even accompanying that emperor on his doomed campaign against the Persians. His short account of Julian's efforts regarding the Temple reads as follows:

[B]eing eager to extend the recollection of his reign by the greatness of his exploits, [Julian] proposed to rebuild at a vast expense the once magnificent temple of Jerusalem, which after many deadly contests was with difficulty taken by Vespasian and Titus, who succeeded his father in the conduct of the siege. And he assigned the task to Alypius of Antioch, who had formerly been proprefect of Britain. But though Alypius applied himself vigorously to the work, and though the governor of the province co-operated with him, fearful balls of fire burst forth with continual eruptions close to the foundations, burning several of the workmen and making the spot altogether inaccessible. And thus the very elements, as if by some fate, repelling the attempt, it was laid aside. [The Roman History of Ammianus Marcellinus, Book XXIII, Chapter 1]

This and the several similar accounts found in the works of St. Gregory Nazianzan, Socrates Scholasticus, St. John Chrysostom, and even oblique references in the extant fragments of Julian's own letters, make it abundantly clear that the Julian the Apostate did make an attempt to rebuild the Jerusalem Temple, and this this effort failed under mysterious—perhaps miraculous—circumstances.

For a deeper dive into the multitude of ancient sources which recorded this event, visit the Eternal Christendom site.

Here are links to several additional articles on Julian that have appeared on this blog. If nothing else, Julian is a fascinating historical figure. Though unlikely, it may be hoped that he repented on his deathbed.

• A passionate longing to acquire (and destroy) books ~ The cognitive dissonance of Julian the Apostate 
• The Sudden Collapse of Greco-Roman Paganism and Rise of Christianity during the 4th century AD ~ Some Stark Clues Courtesy of Julian the Apostate
• "A monarch more wicked than all the nations of the earth" ~ Julian the Apostate and the martyrdom of Saints Juventius and Maximus
• "He hated the entire city intensely" ~ St. Eupsychius and Julian the Apostate's reaction to the destruction of the Temple of Fortune in Caesarea in Cappadocia
• December 2 ~ Saint Bibiana, 4th century martyr during the reign of Julian the Apostate.
• "Martyrs Neither Ignoble Nor Few" ~ The death of Hypatia and mob violence against Christians during the reign of Julian the Apostate