O. T., A Danish Romance | Page 7

countries!"
"She might have made you a Catholic! But surely nothing of this still
clings to you?"
"Rosalie was a prudent old creature; Luther himself need not have been
ashamed of her doctrine. Whatever is holy to the heart of man, remains
also holy in every religion!"
"But then, to erect altars to the Madonna!" exclaimed Wilhelm; "to
pray to a being; whom the Bible does not make a saint!--that is rather
too much. And their tricks with burning of incense and ringing of bells!
Yes, indeed, it would give me no little pleasure to cut off the heads of
the Pope and of the whole clerical body! To purchase
indulgence!--Those must, indeed, be curious people who can place
thorough faith in such things! I will never once take off my hat before
the Madonna!"
"But that will I do, and in my heart bow myself before her!" answered
Otto, gravely.
"Did I not think so? she has made you a Catholic!"
"No such thing! I am as good a Protestant as you yourself: but
wherefore should we not respect the mother of Christ? With regard to
the ceremonials of Catholicism, indulgence, and all these additions of

the priesthood, I agree with you in wishing to strike off the heads of all
who, in such a manner, degrade God and the human understanding. But
in many respects we are unjust: we so easily forget the first and greatest
commandment, 'Love thy neighbor as thyself!' We are not tolerant.
Among our festivals we have still one for the Three Kings--it is yet
celebrated by the common people; but what have these three kings done?
They knelt before the manger in which Christ lay, and on this account
we honor them. On the contrary, the mother of God has no festival-day;
nay, the multitude even smile at her name! If you will only quietly
listen to my simple argument, we shall soon agree. You will take off
your hat and bow before the Madonna. Only two things are to be
considered--either Christ was entirely human, or He was, as the Bible
teaches us, a divine being. I will now admit the latter. He is God
Himself, who in some inexplicable manner, is born to us of the Virgin
Mary. She must therefore be the purest, the most perfect feminine being,
since God found her worthy to bring into the world the Son, the only
one; through this she becomes as holy as any human being can, and low
we must bow ourselves before the pure, the exalted one. Take it for
granted that Christ was human, like ourselves, otherwise He cannot,
according to my belief, call upon us to imitate Him; neither would it be
great, as God, to meet a corporeal death, from which He could remove
each pain. Were He only a man, born of Mary, we must doubly admire
Him; we must bow in the dust before His mighty spirit, His
enlightening and consoling doctrine. But can we then forget how much
the mother has must have influenced the child, how sublime and
profound the soul must have been which spoke to His heart? We must
reverence and honor her! Everywhere in the Scriptures where she
appears we see an example of care and love; with her whole soul she
adheres to her Son. Think how uneasy she became, and sought for Him
in the temple--think of her gentle reproaches! The words of the Son
always sounded harsh in my ears. 'Those are the powerful expressions
of the East!' said my old preacher. The Saviour was severe, severe as
He must be! Already there seemed to me severity in His words! She
was completely the mother; she was it then, even as when she wept at
Golgotha. Honor and reverence she deserves from us!"
"These she also receives!" returned Wilhelm; and striking him upon the

shoulder he added, with a smile, "you are, according to the Roman
Catholic manner, near exalting the mother above the Son! Old Rosalie
has made a proselyte; after all, you are half a Catholic!"
"That am I not!" answered Otto, "and that will I not be!"
"See! the thunder-cloud advances!" resounded below in the court: the
sweet Neapolitan song reached the ears of the friends. They stepped
into the adjoining room and opened the window. Three poor boys stood
below in the wind and rain, and commenced the song. The tallest was,
perhaps, fourteen or fifteen years old, his deep, rough voice seemed to
have attained its strength and depth more through rain and bad weather
than through age. The dirty wet clothes hung in rags about his body; the
shoes upon the wet feet, and the hat held together with white threads,
were articles of luxury. The other two boys had neither hat nor shoes,