Part 8
THE SORROWS, JOYS, AND GLORIES OF ST. ANTHONY

THE SORROWS OF ANTHONY

How can a Saint be sorrowful? Should not his sanctity alone be sufficient to fill him with inexpressible joy? He can sorrow for the sins of others, though he himself is sinless. Anthony no doubt did this again and again, and yet again. He can despise himself and his works, they both fall so far short of his ideal; and surely this is sorrow enough for one soul to suffer. 

Anthony sorrowed in like manner; but I believe this was not his chief sorrow. The source of his sorrow lay elsewhere.

In looking back through the brief history of his career, we find that, in a certain sense, Anthony's life was a series of disappointments-----was, in fact, one long disappointment from beginning to end. He did not pride himself upon his noble blood. He despised the riches that were in store for him and turned from them with contempt. He took no pleasure in the pastimes of his playmates. He sought only solitude; for his soul was ever solitary, and would fain flyaway into the wilderness and there make its home.

Having found a solitude which seemed suitable in all respects, his spiritual tranquillity was disturbed by the advent of the friars who were even then far on the royal road to Martyrdom. Then solitude lost its charms; he also yearned for the baptism of blood-----the blessed pangs, the purifying flames, and the Martyr's glorious palm. Yet these were not for him. At the very threshold of the arena, where torture and cruel death awaited their innocent victims, he was denied admittance and laid low with a fever that compelled his reluctant retreat. Here was sorrow upon sorrow; for he had been thus rudely awakened from the loftiest dream of his life.

Again his heart sought retirement, and, like the stricken deer, fled from the herd in anguish and dismay. The world he loathed with a righteous loathing; and to escape from it he feigned a simplicity of mind that, had it been genuine, must have unfitted him for almost every walk of life. Through this innocent ruse he was once more enabled to taste the sweets of solitude. There he enriched himself with those spiritual riches which he was anon to scatter broadcast through the world.

Not long could he hide his light under a bushel, let him try never so hard. The breadth and beauty of his mind, the loving kindness of his heart, the splendor of his talents, the wisdom of his judgment, the depth of his penetration, the profundity of his speculations, and the luminous exposition of every theme he touched upon, finally swept him into the very vortex of political and religious contention.

This was the end of all his cherished hopes and fond aspirations. Real solitude he could never again know, save at long intervals and for a little moment; and even then he must have accused himself of leaving worldly duties unperformed for the holier and purer joy of silence and seclusion.

But sorrow's crown of sorrow awaited him. Finding himself suddenly called to his reward, with but a few hours between him and the grave, his one desire was to reach the city he had chosen for his own and the monastery of his brother friars, where he had hoped to end his days. Within sight of the gates of that city, within sound of the monastery bell, he was stricken down to death; and for a time it seemed as if his dust would not be permitted to lie within the sanctuary of his adoption.

Therefore I say that the sorrows of Anthony were, in a certain sense, continuous and unceasing-----that his life was one long sorrow. He bore this grievous burden meekly and in silence, with never a murmur of complaint. We have not learned from his lips or his pen a single syllable of his sufferings, mental, spiritual, or physical; but we know full well that he was a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief.

THE JOYS OF ANTHONY

Sorrow is for a night; joy cometh with the morning; and joys are the more joyful by reason of the sorrows that have preceded them. Life without contrasts is like a picture without light and shade-----a blank. Such a life is not worth the living.

A poet has remarked: "The joy of love is loving." This is doubtless true, and this was Anthony's chief joy: he loved his fellow men even when he sought to shun them. It was his nature to love, even as it was his nature to seek retirement, and to strive, perhaps, to forget the object of his love; for his love for God was the ruling passion of his life. As he loved all, so he won the love of all-----even the love of his enemies, who straightway became his faithful followers.

Out of the abundance of his love he worked his wonders. Like a good husbandman, he went to and fro sowing peace in the field of dissension. At his approach, bringing with him as he did an atmosphere that penetrated the hardest heart and softened it, he attuned longstanding discords; he harmonized the inharmonious home circle. 

To the wife fleeing from the wrath of an enraged and unreasonable husband, he said: "Return to your own home in peace." And when she had come to her own house, a kindly welcome awaited her. To the infant whose lips had not yet framed a syllable, and whose father had unjustly accused his wife of infidelity, Anthony said: "My child, I adjure thee, in the name of the Infant God of the Manger, to declare publicly, in clear and positive terms, to whom thou owest thy existence." The child, in the arms of its mother, turned toward the accuser and pronounced distinctly these three words: "Behold my father!" Then Anthony, taking the babe and placing it in the arms of the husband, said: "Love this child for it is indeed your own. Love also your wife, who has been proved to be faithful, devoted, and worthy of your affection."

What a sermon, in a few words, on true and false love, he preached at the funeral of the Florentine notable! Anthony's text was: "Where thy treasure is there thy heart is also." Pausing suddenly, he beheld in a vision the soul of that rich man in torment. He exclaimed: "This rich man is dead and his soul is in torture! Go open his coffers and you will find his heart." The astonished relatives and friends hastened to do his bidding; and there, half buried among the gold pieces, they found the still palpitating heart of the dead Croesus.

It was Anthony's fearless joy to bring a misguided bishop to repentance. He must have been conscious of his power to impart health to the sick, and even to breathe life into the marble lips of the dead. Daily-----nay, almost hourly-----he brought peace to the heart that was troubled; he dried the tears of the mourner, and planted hope in the bosom of despair. These were the joys that must have visited him daily-----yea, even hourly; for daily and hourly was he scattering benedictions broadcast, even as the rain from Heaven that falleth alike upon the just and the unjust.

And so he passed away from sorrows that were ended, and from earthly joys to the joys of Heaven-----the joys that are without beginning and without end. He passed away beloved and bewailed by peoples and by nations, whose hearts he had touched as they had never yet been touched; whose consciences he had pricked until they had goaded their possessors into new paths, where they learned to lead nobler and braver lives; whose souls he had quickened and gathered into the fold, and saved forever and forever.

THE GLORIES OF ANTHONY

Numberless are the glories of Anthony, and they are ever increasing from age to age. Pope Gregory IX, who called him "the Ark of both Testaments and the storehouse of the Sacred Scriptures," longed to honor him. Under his teaching and preaching numberless heretics had been converted, rebellious cities had been reconciled, and the miracles which were being constantly wrought through his instrumentality had created astonishing fervor throughout the land; therefore it was the wish of his Holiness to attach Anthony to the Papal court and invest him with the purple. The gentle Franciscan, remembering the replies of St. Dominic and St. Francis on a like occasion, in 1217, made answer in the words of the founder of his Order. "My Lord," said the Seraphic Father, "my children are called Friars Minor because they hold the lowest rank in the Church. This is their post of honor. Beware of taking it from them under the pretext of raising them higher ." So Anthony was permitted to return into the solitude of God, and this was one of his glories.

It was a glorious privilege Anthony enjoyed when he was permitted to fly to the rescue of his father, who was in dire distress. That father-----Don Martino-----was still a resident of Lisbon, still basking in the favor of the King and holding high office in the court. One day a young nobleman coming from the cathedral was seized and murdered by assassins, who threw the body into the garden of Don Martino, which was close at hand. Don Martino was arrested on suspicion and cast into prison.

To Anthony the fate of his father was miraculously revealed. Having perfect faith in his innocence, and desiring to go at once to his rescue, Anthony asked leave of the superior of the convent of Arcella to absent himself from Padua for a little time. He was himself Provincial, and not obliged to ask leave of the Father Guardian; but he never forgot the exercise of humility, for he was meekness itself. Having obtained leave of absence, he began his weary journey, scarcely knowing when or how he was to reach its end, or whether he should arrive in time to rescue his father from impending peril. Filled with hope and perfect trust, suddenly he found himself miraculously transported to Lisbon. The trial was in progress. Anthony at once entered the courts; and, presenting himself before the judges, who were struck dumb with amazement, he begged leave to speak in defense of Don Martino. He declared his father innocent. Where were his proofs? Anthony replied: "The murdered man shall bear witness as to the truth of my testimony."

Anthony led the way to the victim's grave, followed by the wondering judges and the excited populace. He commanded that the grave be opened; and when it was opened and the body was uncovered, Anthony, addressing the dead man, charged him, in the name of God to say whether Martino de Bouillon was his murderer. Rising in his grave-----clothes to a sitting posture, resting upon one hand while the other was raised to Heaven, the dead declared in a loud voice that Martino de Bouillon was guiltless. Then, turning to Anthony, he begged absolution from an excommunication under which he labored; and, when his prayer was answered, he sank back into his coffin, a corpse again. Then the bewildered judges begged the Saint to reveal the name of the murderer, and he replied: "I come to clear the innocent, not to denounce the guilty." When Anthony reappeared at Arcella, he had been absent two nights and a single day.

On another occasion Don Martino, who had the management of a considerable portion of the royal exchequer, delivered a large sum of money into the hands of his subordinates, who neglected to give him a receipt for it. Some months later, when about to render his accounts he remembered that he had no receipt for certain monies delivered; and when he asked for one, those who had received the sum denied all knowledge of the transaction. It was a plot of his enemies to ruin him. While he was standing before his audacious accusers, in despair of proving his case, Anthony appeared at his side; and, naming to his accusers the exact hour and the very place when and where they had received the money, even describing the different coins in which it had been paid, he demanded that a full receipt be at once rendered to his father; and as soon as it was done he disappeared. This is one of several instances of bilocation in the miraculous history of Anthony.

He knew the minds and the hearts of all, and spoke to many at a distance, calling them by name-----he had perhaps never met them face to face. At his word they were converted, and returned to the Holy Sacraments. Said Pope Gregory IX six hundred years ago: "The supernatural which blossoms from the tombs of the elect is a continuous proclamation of truth; for by this means, God confounds the malice of heretics, confirms the truth of Catholic dogma, renews the faith that is on the point of being extinguished, leads back Christians who have erred-----nay, even Jews and pagans-----to the very feet of Him who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life."

The famous book of the Bollandists contains nearly thirty folio pages filled with the record of pure miracles. Azevedo devotes an entire book of four chapters to some of the miracles of Anthony selected by the Bollandists as most authentic. Under the head of "Death," among the classified miracles, Azevedo names a dozen cases; in each case the dead was brought to life. Under the head of "Error" he notes numerous miraculous conversions, among them a Lutheran, a Calvinist, a Turkish lady, and an Indian prince. Under the title of "Calamity" are stories of miraculous relief brought to many and various persons. Those condemned to death were delivered, the imprisoned were set free, and all manner of diseases were healed.

It is a pretty story of a child whose mother seeing it fall from a high window, cried to Anthony for help. When the distracted mother rushed to seek her boy, he ran smiling to her and said: " A friar caught me in his arms and placed me gently on the ground." The mother took her child to the old Franciscan church of Ara Coeli, in Rome, to return thanks; and as they entered it the little fellow, pointing to a picture, said: "See!-----there is the friar who saved me!" The friar was St. Anthony of Padua.

A poor leper was being carried to the shrine of Anthony when he was met by a heartless soldier who scoffingly saluted him: "Whither art thou going, wretch? May thy leprosy come upon myself if St. Anthony succeeds in curing thee!" The leper went his way; and, while praying fervently, the Saint appeared to him and said: " Arise! Thou art whole. But seek out the soldier who mocked thee and give him the clappers; for leprosy is already devouring him." [The clappers were an instrument of warning which all lepers were obliged to carry about with them when in the streets, that people might avoid infection.] He who was a leper but a few moments before found the soldier in a wretched plight. The soldier, in his turn, repented; and, calling upon the Saint, he was straightway healed.

Many were the wells he blessed, and the waters thereof cured fevers from that hour. Indeed, so wide is the range of his miracles that one may call on him in any strait.

Perhaps the tenderest devotion of all he has awakened in the guileless heart of maidenhood. At his feet she lays her heart, and asks of him guidance in the choice of its protector. Trusting him, through him she would trust his choice for her; and thus repose in perfect confidence upon the bosom of one whose lot in life she has been sought to share in a union so dear, so delicate, so devotional, it seems indeed under the immediate patronage of the most loyal and lovable of Saints.

Anthony spent the first fifteen years of his brief life in his paternal home; two years at St. Vincent's the monastery of the Canons Regular of St. Augustine, near Lisbon; nine years at Santa Cruz, in Coimbra; and about ten and a half years in the Order of the Friars Minor. He then passed away.

So prodigious were the wonders worked at his tomb and through his intercession, within six months after Anthony's death the bishop of Padua petitioned the Holy See to confer on the wonder-worker the honor of canonization. The preliminary judicial inquiries were instituted without delay; and, by an exception almost unparalleled in history, before the year was ended, on Whit-Sunday [Pentecost], May 30, 1232, the Sovereign Pontiff Gregory IX, then at Spoleto, solemnly pronounced the decree of canonization. In it he says:

"Having ourselves witnessed the wonderful and holy life of blessed Anthony, the great wonder-worker of the universal Church, and unwilling to withhold the honor due on earth from one whom Heaven itself has surrounded with glory , we, in virtue of the plenitude of our apostolic authority, after having duly consulted our brethren the cardinals, deem it expedient to inscribe him in the calendar of Saints."

Indescribable rejoicing followed the announcement that Anthony had been declared a Saint. His mother and his two sisters, who survived him, enjoyed the extraordinary privilege of witnessing the festivities given in honor of the Saint. Every city that had known him in the flesh now especially honored him; every house or hospice or haunt that he had visited became hallowed in the eyes of his followers and a place of pious pilgrimage. At Brivé, in the south of France, pilgrimages were twice interrupted and for a long time discontinued. In 1565 the Calvinists were the cause of this interruption, and in 1793 the Revolutionists. But in 1874 Monsignor Berteaux re-established the devotion; the sons of St. Francis again took possession of the hill sanctified by the prayers of the wonder-worker; and the Bishop of Tulle, on August 3, 1874, when the Franciscans were reinstated, remarked on that joyful occasion:

"Today I, the Bishop of this diocese, in the name of the Church, take possession again of this venerable sanctuary, this celestial hill . . . This spot has heard the ardent sighs of an impassioned lover of Christ-----the mighty orator who drew his mystic lore from the Sacred Scriptures and deserved to be styled by Gregory IX, 'the Ark of the Testament.' His commentaries on the Divine pages may be likened to a golden harp sending forth magnificent harmonies to the glory of the Word Incarnate. The Child Jesus Himself touched his lips and his fingers, that they might pour forth golden words. This inspired preacher of the word of God, whom we call Anthony of Padua, has trodden these valleys and plains, has prayed and watched in this lonely cave, has slaked his thirst in this clear water which is a reflection of the purity of his soul. Today I bid you welcome, sons of St. Francis, to this spot, once inhabited by your brother, the great wonder-worker. Proclaim Christ wheresoever you go; . . . and in all your strivings imitate your holy brother in St. Francis, the great St. Anthony of Padua."

Brivé is annually the resort of thousands of pilgrims; and not Brivé only and the valley of the Correze: everywhere and under many forms St. Anthony is venerated. At Vaucluse and elsewhere it has been the custom to invoke St. Anthony in order to insure a plentiful harvest. In a breviary of the fourteenth century belonging to the diocese of Apt we find the following form of blessing-----it is the blessing of the seed-grain:

"Bless, O Lord! this seed; and, through the merits of our blessed father St. Anthony, deign to multiply it, and cause it to bring forth fruit a hundredfold; and preserve it from lightning and tempest. Who livest and reignest world without end. Amen."

In the same volume is found the following prayer used when a blessing was invoked upon a child; and a measure of corn-----the weight of the child-----was distributed among the poor:

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