Paris, July 3, 1656 SIR, I shall use as little ceremony with you as the worthy monk did with me when I saw him last.The moment he perceived me, he came forward, with his eyes fixed on a book which he held in his hand, and accosted me thus: "'Would you not be infinitely obliged to any one who should open to you the gates of paradise? Would you not give millions of gold to have a key by which you might gain admittance whenever you thought proper? You need not be at such expense; here is one- here are a hundred for much less money.'" At first I was at a loss to know whether the good father was reading, or talking to me, but he soon put the matter beyond doubt by adding: "These, sir, are the opening words of a fine book, written by Father Barry of our Society; for I never give you anything of my own.""What book is it?" asked I."Here is its title," he replied: "Paradise opened to Philagio, in a Hundred Devotions to the Mother of God, easily practised." "Indeed, father! and is each of these easy devotions a sufficient passport to heaven?" "It is," returned he."Listen to what follows: 'The devotions to the Mother of God, which you will find in this book, are so many celestial keys, which will open wide to you the gates of paradise, provided you practise them'; and, accordingly, he says at the conclusion, 'that he is satisfied if you practise only one of them.'" "Pray, then, father, do teach me one of the easiest of them." "They are all easy," he replied, "for example- 'Saluting the Holy Virgin when you happen to meet her image- saying the little chaplet of the pleasures of the Virgin- fervently pronouncing the name of Mary- commissioning the angels to bow to her for us- wishing to build her as many churches as all the monarchs on earth have done- bidding her good morrow every morning, and good night in the evening- saying the Ave Maria every day, in honour of the heart of Mary'-which last devotion, he says, possesses the additional virtue of securing us the heart of the Virgin." "But, father," said I, "only provided we give her our own in return, I presume?" "That," he replied, "is not absolutely necessary, when a person is too much attached to the world.Hear Father Barry: 'Heart for heart would, no doubt, be highly proper; but yours is rather too much attached to the world, too much bound up in the creature, so that I dare not advise you to offer, at present, that poor little slave which you call your heart.' And so he contents himself with the Ave Maria which he had prescribed." "Why, this is extremely easy work," said I, "and I should really think that nobody will be damned after that." "Alas!" said the monk, "I see you have no idea of the hardness of some people's hearts.
There are some, sir, who would never engage to repeat, every day, even these simple words, Good day, Good evening, just because such a practice would require some exertion of memory.And, accordingly, it became necessary for Father Barry to furnish them with expedients still easier, such as wearing a chaplet night and day on the arm, in the form of a bracelet, or carrying about one's person a rosary, or an image of the Virgin.'And, tell me now,' as Father Barry says, 'if I have not provided you with easy devotions to obtain the good graces of Mary?'" "Extremely easy indeed, father," I observed."Yes," he said, "it is as much as could possibly be done, and I think should be quite satisfactory.For he must be a wretched creature indeed, who would not spare a single moment in all his lifetime to put a chaplet on his arm, or a rosary in his pocket, and thus secure his salvation; and that, too, with so much certainty that none who have tried the experiment have ever found it to fail, in whatever way they may have lived; though, let me add, we exhort people not to omit holy living.
