The Irish standard., 1903-04-18
"sTABAT HATRR."
Sketch Of the Author Whs Wrote the
Sublime WeYos.

heard throughout the Catholic an,
high church services during Lent il
we'll known, whether sung in the sol
emn Gregorian chant or the more elab
crate dressing given by so many of thu
worlds great musicians. But of al
who listen to the soulful strains Of
that exquisite hymn, how few have
ever given thought to the author who
wrote the sublime words, or when, OF
where, or how he worked, says writ
er in the Chicago Record-Herald. AT.
ter an early and romantic career JAG.
que Benedict di lodi became a lay
brother and voiced his pious emotions
in the simple 'Stabat Mater Dolorosa -
He was the most popular and inspired
poet of the Franciscan Order in the
thirteenth century. In his youth he
was rather dissolute and extravaganza
of dress and living were among his
highest ambitions. He thought to at
tain the summit Of his happiness in his
marriage with lady of beauty and
high rank. The marriage proved Il
happy one. Jacque idolized his wife
and revered in her the Christian Writ
ues which made her life more beauti-
full than that Of other women. About
this time Benedict was made juriscon-
suit of Umbria, and was obliged to ell
terrain great deal. He loved pleas
ure, and breathed freely only when in
an atmosphere Of gay, stirring life and
surrounded by everything that could
charm the sense or delight the taste.
One day Benedetti came home in high
spirits, saying to his wife: Great
news, dear one. We are to have the
games once more at Todi; the theater
shall no longer be overgrown with
moss and weeds" His wife, who was
at heart all escetic, listened, but was
not pleased She loved and appre-
ciated her husbands generous quail
tiles, but she also recognized the fact
that he set his heart too much upon
the things of this world TO please
him she promised to array herself in
costly silks and tilmly Venetian lace
for the occasion. The games, the
Egyptian dancing girls, and the music
all proved a success, but just in the
midst of the nerriment there came Il
sudden cracking sound, shricks filled
the air, the grand porch with it's
freight of life and beauty fell Il heaped
up ruin into the arena. With Il
piercing cry Renedetti struggled to
reach his Wife. She still breathcd,
and he carried her to place of safe
ty, her head reposng on his shoulder.
He cut open her bodice that the heart
might have no pressure upon it.
TO his establishment he saw she wore
rough hair shirt beneath her fine lin
Ell. A cry escaped him, and, bend
ing down his ear, lie heard her Whisper,
with white, dying lips: ut was for
thee, dear one! Pennce! Penance"
and expired in his arms.
This misfortune changed the whole
current Of his life. His next step was
to resign his civic dignities, and to the
amazement of his old friends, he sold
his goods and distributed his posses
sions to the poor, then dressed Ill rags.
This was considered by many as nn
evidence of insanity. His feet were
bare, often bleeding from the sharp,
uneven stones; he looked neither to the
right nor to the left; he haunted the
churches and was absorbed in devO-
ton. The boys in the streets nick
lElmed him "Jacopone," mad Jacque.
At last he realized that the contin-
uance of this sort of penance might
prove dangerous, and he felt that he
needed the surer guide of obedience to
some certain rule. He affiliated with
the Third Order Of Franciscans. He
lived long years. abating nothing Of his
austerities, and shortly before his
death, from his prison at Collazone, he
gave the world his matchless hymn,
the "Stabat Mater" whose mournful
strains are known and loved by all
musicians, so sweet that the sorrow
it evokes might win the solace of
angels. The inscription OH Jacopone's
tomb at TNodi reads this way:
"Here lies the remains of Jacopone
'di Benedict of the Order Of Frlars
Minor, who was ignorant for Christ's
sake, despised and yet enriched the
world by new art, and made heaven
his own"
There are various TRANSACTIONS of the
~"Stabat Mater" but this one Is COM
monty in use:
AT THE CROSS HER STATION
KEEPING.
AT the Gloss her station keeping,
:Stood the mournful Mother weeping
>Oloee to Jesus to the last.
Through her heart, His sorrow sharing
-XM His bitter anguish bearing,
Now at length the sword has passed
Oh! how sad and sore distressed
Was that Mother, highly blest.
OF the sole begotten One!
Christ above in torment hangs;