Mgr. Louis de Ségur: Plain Talk about the Protestantism of Today [1868]

[Stone]

XVII. The Judgment of Death.

— It has been remarked that death is the echo of life. At the solemn approach of death sophisms lose their force, illusions melt away, and conscience asserts its rights. During the process entered by Protestants against the Church, let us appeal to the verdict of a supreme authority — the verdict of death.

There are Protestants who have become Catholics, and there are Catholics who have turned Protestants. Let us watch and see how they die.

At death's point, as well as during their lives, the numberless Protestants who have re-entered the pale of the Church were full of hope and in a most serene state of mind; not a word of regret from their lips, not the least remorse to ripple the tranquillity of their souls, not a doubt to give them the least anxiety. They believe, and love, and pray, and give up their souls to God, with thanks because he has received them in the Catholic Church! I defy all the Protestants in the world to quote one single instance in contradiction to this statement.

All those doctors, and ministers, and men highly educated and perfectly independent, who, raised in Protestantism, and knowing it to its very depth, have abandoned it to become Catholics — all, without a single exception, die, like the illustrious Count de Stolberg, the greatest among them, full of joy and love of God, blessing Him because He had led him to know His true Church, and beseeching his children to pray for the dead, and to persevere in the Catholic Church. After receiving the last sacraments in the most humble attitude, he died with these words on his lips: "Blessed be Jesus Christ!"

How different the death of apostates! Even when not lost to every sentiment of faith in God and in an immortal soul — even when not hardened into materialism and atheism — what anxiety, what pangs of conscience, what terrors toss them on the pillow of death! Then they remember that holy Church they have forsaken, and why they have forsaken it! The world, with all its endearments and charms, fades away from before their eyes aghast at the approaching sight of judgment and eternity! Yea; if the least belief in the Holy Scripture is still alive in their hearts, they remember Christ's words, "What doth it profit a man if he gain the whole world and lose his soul?"

The death-bed of the founders of Protestantism — all apostates, and, for the most, apostate priests — bears us out in our assertion, and with a terribly overwhelming evidence.

Luther despaired of the salvation of his soul. Shortly before his death, his concubine pointed to the brilliancy of the stars in the firmament.

"See, Martin, how beautiful that heaven is!"

"It does not shine in our behalf," replied the master, moodily.

"Is it because we have broken our vows?" resumed Kate, in dismay.

"May be," said Luther.

"If so, let us go back."

"Too late! The hearse is stuck in the mire," — and he would hear no more.

At Eisleben, on the day previous to that on which he was stricken with apoplexy, he remarked to his friends: "I have almost lost sight of the Christ, tossed as I am by these waves of despair which overwhelm me." And after a while, "I, who have imparted salvation to so many, cannot save myself."

Above I have quoted his blasphemous testament. He died forlorn of God — blaspheming to the very end. His last word was an attestation of impenitence. His eldest son, who had doubts both about the Reformation and the Reformer, asked him for a last time whether he persevered in the doctrine he preached. "Yes," replied a gurgling sound from the old sinner's throat — and Luther was before his God!*

Schusselburg, a Protestant, writes: "Calvin died of scarlet fever, devoured by vermin, and eaten up by an ulcerous abscess, the stench whereof drove away every person." — (*Theol. Calvin.* t. ii. p. 72.) In great misery he gave up his rascally ghost, despairing of salvation, evoking the devils from the abyss, and uttering oaths most horrible and blasphemies most frightful.

John Hazen, a disciple of Calvin and an eye-witness of his death, writes thus: "Calvin died in despair. He died a death hideous and revolting, such as God has threatened the impious and reprobate with." — (*De vita Calvini.*) And he adds, "I can vouch for the truth of what I say, because I have been an eye-witness."

Spalatin, Justus Jonas, Isinder, and a host of other friends of Luther, died either in despair or crazy.

Henry VIII died bewailing that he had lost heaven; and his worthy daughter Elizabeth breathed her last in deep desolation, stretched on the floor — not daring to lie in bed, because, at the first attack of her illness, she thought she saw her body all torn to pieces and palpitating in a caldron of fire.

Let, then, in the presence of such frightful deaths and of the thought of eternity, those of our unfortunate brethren who may be tempted to abandon their Church, remember that a day will come when they will also be summoned to appear before God! Let them think, in their sober senses, of death and of judgment and of hell, and I pledge my word they will not think of becoming Protestants.

In a place upon the borders of Northern Germany there formerly lived a priest who had become careless of all the duties of his state. Falling from excess into excess, he went so far as to deny his faith, and, fleeing his native place, he became a Protestant. Then he secured a place, and from a teacher of truth he became a teacher of false doctrines. Many years did the unfortunate man remain in that state of enmity with his God. On a certain occasion he was the guest of a famous preacher in a large city, who had gathered around his table many pastors of the neighborhood. Amid the enjoyments of the table, word was sent to the master that a poor man had fallen dangerously ill, and seemed to be in great need of spiritual assistance. The pastor, bound to entertain his guests, could not attend the call, and our apostate offered his services in his stead. The offer was accepted, and he went. He was led to a chamber where lay an old man at the point of death, and in utmost despair of his salvation. The parson read to him some passages from the Scriptures; but to all the dying man replied, "I am lost — no pardon for me — woe to me! I am damned!"

The visitor endeavored to comfort him and to inspire him with feelings of confidence.

"No use," replied the other, "no use; no one can give me help; the road to heaven is closed against me; my crime is too great; I am lost!"

"But, for the love of God, why so? What is it that weighs on your heart so heavily?"

The dying man replied only by words of despair. At last he gave in to the pastor's remonstrances, and said, "What renders my case hopeless is that I am an apostate priest, and then the crimes I have added to my apostasy, and my resisting so much to the graces of God, and to all the advances of the divine mercy, which I have repelled. . . . Alas! it is too great a sin for me to sue for pardon; I am lost; none can bring aid to me!"

The disclosure threw the visitor's soul into a cruel agony, as he recognized in the sick man his own fearful destiny. But his former faith worked again in his heart, as he thought of the divine and inamissible power given to the priest in the Sacrament of Order. Accordingly he addressed the wretched man with great feeling thus: "Dear brother, I can aid you, as sure as God exists; I can give you aid! . . . I, also, am a Catholic priest, believe me; but, alas! I am like yourself a renegade and excommunicated; but, with the priestly power I possess, I can open the gates of heaven to a dying man."

The wretched man felt as if an angel had come from heaven to give him hope and salvation. Overwhelmed by such a proof of the infinite mercy of his God, who, at the very last hour of his life, offered him pardon, and with pardon the renewal of all former favors, and an assurance of salvation, with sentiments of a most vivid sorrow and most sincere repentance, he made a confession of his sins, received absolution, and died in the peace of the Lord. Such a triumph of the divine love, that wishes the salvation of all men, and goes in quest of the worst sinners to their very last breath, made such an impression on him who had been chosen to achieve it, and his heart was at once so changed by the all-powerful grace of God, that he resolved to retrace his steps. Accordingly as he re-entered the hall where his clerical friends were still enjoying the feast, he addressed them thus: "Gentlemen, farewell! I am going back to the bosom of the Catholic Church, that I have so wantonly abandoned. I have just witnessed how horrible is the death of an apostate. I found myself to be a priest still, and I have been an instrument of mercy in the hands of God; and now that very infinite mercy calls me also to repentance, to reconciliation, and to salvation. Farewell!"

---

* The last descendant of Luther died not long ago a fervent Catholic.