The Storyteller

New Zealand Tablet, Volume XXXV, Issue 21, 23 May 1907, Page 3

The Storyteller

FATHER ANTONY'S PENITENT

Brother Dominic, having made his usual hour's meditation, then went to serve the superior's Mass. The duties of the Mass over, the good Brother proceeded to discharge those of Martha. To his care the household affairs were assigned, and hence he quickly set about preparing breakfast for the little Jesuit community, which consisted of three priests and himself, a lay Brother. Brother Dominic placed on the fire a small kettle full of water, and shortly after, the morning meal wajs served up. It consisted simply of three cups of, chocolate, one for eaoh of the . Fathers, together with some bread, lie himself was contented to take, standing in the kitchen, a cup of coffee and a morsel of dry bread. Breakfast over, Brother Dominic concealed beneath his mantle, or great cloak, a, little basket, and was soon on his way to the .city to make the necessary purchases for the community. When he had fulfilled his mission the Brother visited some sick pers'dns who had been ailing for some time, and "whose condition was rendered more - tolerable by his sharing with them his morning's purchase, as far as his poverty permitted. Having spoken & few confidential words to his suffering friends,, the Brother then hastened back to the community home. As he was passing by Rue de S a woman of- a somewhat haggard appearance, standing at her door, suddenly accosted him. She was old and gray. The Brother kmew her well from her frequent visits to the community. He paused for a moment, and the woman expressed her desire to see Father Antony. ■ . •■ ' His reverence is in the confessional at present,' replied the Brother. The old woman appeared disappointed somewhat, and paused for a "moment or so then her thoughts took a different turn. She placed her hand in her bosom, and drawing forth a letter, gave it to the Brother, requesting him at the same time to take it immediately to Father Antony. With that purity of intention and holy simplicity which characterizes the saint, Brother Dominic, absorbed in meditation, resumed his journey homewards, giving- no further thought to the old woman or^foer epistle. As soon as he arrived, however, he went directly to Father Antony and delivered the letter. In the meantime the reverend superior, with the air of one who feels he has a few leisure moments at ; his disposal io spend in his favorite occupation, had entered his study. The room was large and well lined with books. The superior was a man of middle height, active and well-proportioned. 'He was robed in his soutane ; his face was rather round than long ; his black hair was already showing signs of graynes's, with a sacerdotal tonsure on the crown. His complexion was clear, and his eyes of a light, transparent blue. The look revealed, that brilliancy of intelligence as effectively as his sanctity does tine saint. As a writer the superior held a prominent place in literary circles. His wonts were renowned for their profundity of conception, purity of doctrine, and clearness of diction. He was an exemplary man; who alike resisted flattery and' despised calumny, saying : ' You are no better because you are praised, nor wdrse because you are 'blamed.' At the opposite end of the room, close to the window, stood the table of this veritable savant, papers, pamphlets, manuscripts, books, both ancient and modern, opened and closed, in the living language? and in the dead, completely covered it. Commanding allthose monuments of human science, arose in their centre, that wonderful monument of divine wisdom and •love, a book open to all who desire to seek in its fine pages a solution for all doubts, a consolation' for all sufferings, ami a secure foundation for all our hopes and aspirations — a crucifix. The superior paused for a -moment beside the table, took a pinch of snuff, examined some" reviews a)nd journals that had arrived by the morning post, . readthrough a couple of lines of an article' -which made an eulogy on his last work that had lately appeared in public, then muttering between "his teeth, ' Get" away ; the devil has told me so already,' he cast the review upon the table and set himself to work "'. to refute some false theories concerrXng the liberty of "man and his freedom of will, and God's foreknowledge of the future. The opinion put forward ami over which the superior was deeply pondering was, ' If we choose prescience of the future, we must give up the idea of free will ; if we choose free will, 1 we must disbelieve Gail 's foreknowledge. '

Shortly after a knock was 'heard at the door. The poor superior, greatly distressed, turned his eyes in that direction, then looked on th": roll of white papers before him and patiently called ouc, ' Come in.' The 'door was gently opened and another Jesuit entered and advanced slowly, 'holding in one hand his biretta, in the other was the letter which the old woman had given that morning to Brother Dominic. This was Father Antony. 'I bag your pardon,' said the latter, and looking towards the door as if he were about to withdraw continued in the same ' Your reverence is occupied.' ' Oh, no— or I should rather say yes. But no matter. This D has builb his reasonings in the air. I was just trying to catch his line of argument. He tries to show that the exercise of free will ceases when God's prescience of the future is admitted and— 'say. ' The good superior regardod with a nervous air the roll of white paper before him, perceiving at the same time that the arguments of D were becoming all the more confused. He exclaimed as if addressing some invisible audience, ' St. Augustine says the truly religious mind chooses 'both ; believes in and acknowledges both, confirming them by faith and piety, and then you see—' ' Would your reverence wish to read this letter ? ' said Father Antony, presenting the superior with the letter which he held in his hand. ' Read it to me,' replied the latter, trying to formulate his new arguments in the shape of a rhilosophical thesis. 'It is a poor soul who wishes to come back to the Church and do penance for his past life,' continued Father Antony, unfolding the letter. ' By all means let us assist him and remove whatever barriers may be hindering his progress,' said the superior with vehemence ; then, laying down his pen, he placed his glasses on the table and stretched back in his armchair. Father Antony read slowly : ' May the grace of the Holy Ghost be with your reverence !" 1 Eh ! ' exclaimed the superior, with a look of astonishment. ' May the grace of the Holy Ghost be with your reverence ! ' ' Amen ! ' said the superior, bowing his head; then, taking a pinch of snuff, he added : "Continue, Father, continue.' 'An abandoned soul has recourse to your charity and supplication. Through the merits of our Adiorable Redeemer and His Holy and Immaculate Mother, do not resist my prayers. The^ grace of our Lord Jesus Christ has touched my heart. Hence I desire to confess my faults and wash my soul in the waters of the sacrament of penance. This, however, exposes ms to a very great danger, because for the past thirty years the common enemy of the human race has cast me into the society of Freemasons, and if they should suspect that I had been to confession and had revealed their secrets, I should be ruined. That is why, after having demanded succor from the Father of Light, I have hit upon a plan which I submit to the approbation of your reverence. Without doubt, the Holy Ghost, desiring, to save my soul, has inspired me. Let your reverence ordain that to-nig/ht, at 11 o'clock, tlie door of your house be left open ; let the lights in the vestibule and staircase be extinguished. Also let your reverence open the door of your chamber, whioh is just off the stairs, and await me In the obscurity. In this way I shall be able to come to your feet and confess my sins without -any one knowing the unfortunate sinner who has 'been spurned on all sides. I ask you, Father, in tSie name ofrJesus Christ, our Lord and our God, above all to guard this great secret and not to reject; these supplications, whereon 'depends the salvation of my soul. In fine, if you consent to what I have proposed, place a white cloth in the second window of your room before midday today. ' And the only signature,' continued Father Antony, in the same calm tone as he had read the letter, ' is a cross at the fo o t of the letter.' ' Behind which the horns of the devil are concealed ' replied the sumior with vivacity. .' Yes, Father, yes,' he continued with his natural vehemence, seeing Father Antony regarded him with astonishment. ' The devil, washing to be over-generous for once, has overshot the mark. He is extremely Cautious, for this letter is by no means genuine. It is a counterfeit : it is false, and you—.' 1 But from whom can it be ? ' ' From some one who is seeking to avenge himself on Father Antony.'

The latter, astonished at tnis declaration, exclaimed : ' Your reverence, then, knows some one whom I have wronged ? ' 'Yes, I know 'him ; I know him well. Every day you are a cause of anxiety to the devil. Every soul you have saved from ins power is, as it were, a tooth extracted from the royal jaws of his Satanic Majesty. Nor is it unreasonable to expect he should address you such a devout letter through the hand of some one of his secretaries. ' , ' But it is clear,' r-jersistcd Father Antony, ' the author wishes to make a confession. The letter explicitly states that, and—' "It is clear he does not wish you to see him nor to iecog/nise his countenance, ' said the superior. ' Moreover, think how you have revolutionized all avenues toy jour missionary labors— your various societies, your continual visits to the sick, to the hospitals-; your devotion to the poor and needy ; every place bears the marks of your energy and zeal. You are reaping a rich harvest of souls for Christ. Every day your confessional is crowded with persons whose souls were already on the path to ruin. Even the very journals of that sect are .already beginning to eulogise the great works of Father Antony. Only two days ago you heard the confession of a dying Freemason, a great person of their sect whom our Lord, ' out of the depths of His infinite mercy, had regarded with compassion in his last moments ; and just two days later another very devout Mason, who knows every inch of your house, even that your room is situated off the stairs, feels himself forced by grace to confess his crimes to Father Antony, and that at midnight, in obscurity, all the doors open so that he can enter, and evidently get off, too, without creating noise or sus^ picion, And all that inspired by the Holy Ghost ? Hum ! The Holy Ghost must breathe for a long time on me to make me the dupe of such a bait. 1 Father Antony, with his head bent down and holding the letter between his trembling fingers,," listened to the superior. After a short pause, during which both priests seemed occupied each with his own thoughts, Father Antony began : ' But if it is true, Father ? He demands it in the name of Jesus Christ.' There was such humility, tenderness, and love in those last words that even the superior felt himself moved. 'But, my dear child,' sa-M he, arising from hia chair and advancing towards the young Jesuit with outstretched hands, as if to embrace him, ' if it is a lie, as I presume it is ; if it is a snare set for you by an enemy, and which, perhaps, may place your life in danger ? ' ' No matter,' replied Father Antony. ' For you it matters not. For me, for the community, for the glory of God, a great deal. To die and enter heaven bearing the martyr's crown is all very good for Father Antony, but will it be equally good for our Lord ? It is well for a man when he is prepared to fall in the discharge of Ms duty, but it is more meritorious to bear the brunt of the fight for a long time, and then, if it Le God's will, to fall at length on the breach, crowned with the crown of a martyr's death. Thiak, moreover, of the abundant harvest that must be reaped, and how few the laborers are.' ' True, Father ; but when there is question of the salvatuon of a soul, I should prefer to be deceived, thinking more of it than to be justified thinking ill of it. 1 That depends on the character of those with whom you have to deal,' replied the superior; • and let me admonish you to think no more about the affair.' Very well,' said Father Antony, as he turned to depart. ;We shall leave the whole affair in the hands Nof our Lord.' When the young priest had left the superior's room tne lather, who accomoanied him to the door, remained for .a moment with his hand upon the lock, then addressing nis invisible audience, he exclaimed : ... ' That ma ' n is a saint ; the water of baptism is stall flowing upon his head ,• his innocence will not permit him to see the malice concealed in this letter.' Father Antony, having finished his conversation with the superior, next went to the chapel of the community. Above the altar, on a marble pedestal, stood an image of the Sacred Heart, wnile beneath, Ithe pedestal was a small silver tabernacle, before which a silver lamp continually burned. The young Jesuit Knelt down. His thoughts wandered over the whole course of the conversation. He prayed that the Lord would find him light to see through the present difficulty. Nor was it before a mere symbol of redemption he had knelt to pray, for there in that silver taber-

PBIZI

nacle continually dwelt the holy of holies, the- Eternal Son of God. That everlasting Presence was his stay and his guide amid his weary wanderings, his glory ■and consolation amid his overpowering .anxieties. There, indeed, was the real scene of his sweet serenity- and unclouded determination. At the foot of the altar he remained deeply absorbed in meditation, humiliation, and intercession. The humble religious feared he had insisted too much on the wish to do good to the author of the anonymous letter ; he feared that he was too slow in submitting his own will to that of the superior, who, in the natural order, was a man remarkable alike for his sanctity, wisdom, and prudence. On the other hand, his modesty prevented him from . attributing, to a divine inspiration that zeal whioh he had manifested for the one, attributing it, on the contrary, to his own pride. He therefore humiliated himself before Jesus Christ, imploring Him, with tears in his eyes, that his pride may be no obstacle to the salvation of that poor soul. The superior, in the meantime, was in an excited state of irflnd 1 . In vain he strove to reunite the shattered threads of argument against D and his system. His reasoning was always at fault. No wonder, , considering the effect Ihe anonymous letter had upon him. His friend was in imminent danger. What was to be dome ? Instead of the roll of white paper, he seemed to see only Ihe mysterious letter which was just read ; he thought of the pe-sistence of the young priest, which, however modest and respectful, still was strange among the religious, whose humility always sought the opinion of another more mature than their own, and whose obedience made them accept and follow the desire of their superior, whose purity of intention always made them take, even in the most ordinary circumstances of religious life, motives purely supernatural for their rule of conduct. ' The Lord must have inspired him,' said the superior, laying down his pen for the fourth time. That letter is unreasonable, but still it can be true $ and Avho knows but God wishes to bAng good out of those wicked motives. 'Lord ! If his persistence was an inspiration from God. If by my ra^h prudence I have placed an obstacle in ihe way ! Who knows but I have thwarted the designs of Providence, and prevented what might be the salvation of a soul ? Jesus ! Jesus ! God forbid su-h an act. What thoughtlessness on my part ! What pride ! To stay what may have "been a divine ins]l.ration, without seeking assistance from the source of helo and letting myself be guided by frail human prudence, which is ever ready to attribute to exaggeration the zeal of fervent souls. Ah ! my God, how well I inave merited that men whom "You call fools should call me wise ! ' With such reflections he arose from his chair and paced the room for some t*ime. At length he proceeded to the chapel, where he saw Father Antony so aTjrsorbed in prayer that his own entrance was unobserved . by the young man. For half an hour both religious remained before Jesus in the tabernacle, ea?h accusing himself of a fault which neither one nor the other had committed, and seeking a solution to the present difficulty in that ocean of infinite truth and wisdom. Their sole aim was the glory of Gcd and the fulfilment of His will, in all their undertakings. . The two must evidently have come to the same conclusion, for when Father Antony arose to depart the superior arose, too, and met him at the door ; then, offering him the holy water on the tip of his finger, he said : ' Put out that cloth, Father. Put out that cloth.' Father Antony regarded him with a look of surprise, not unimiiiglea" with joy. ' Yes, put it "out. But let it be well understood' I - ■do not command it. I simply permit it— if you wish— if you are not afraid.' . ' ' ' ' Afraid ! ' energetically exclaimed Father Antony. 'The Lord is the protector of my life ; whom shall I fear ?" ' 'Tis true,' said the superior, humbly 'bowing his head ; ' " quern timebo." ' At 10 o'clock Brother Dominic ran* the bell which announced to the religious" their hour' for repose. But orders were given by the superior to the third priest who lived in the house not to retire to rest, but to remain in his room prepared to come to Father Antony's assistance if any unusual sound or extraordinary err should be heard. The Brother was then recommended to leave trfe entrance door open, -to lower the lights in the vestibule and staircase, but not to extdni^uish them completely. Without the least manifestation of astonishment he obeyed all those injunctions, then' retired to the- chapel to await the arrival of the stranger. Here he saw "the superior seated on a chair close to the door, his head bowed down and his hands buried in the folds of his soutane.

Father Antony was in his room. A small picture of the Sacred Heart was placed at the foot of the crucifix on the prie dieu. A small petroleum t lamp, whose rays searched the room an!d cast a feeble light on the objects around, burned on the table. Himself, calm and resigned, walked up. and down reciting Ms Rosary in the meantime. ' As 11 o'clock was ringing quick and firm steps were heard in the, hall, then upon the stairs. The superior knelt down and whispered to the Brother to open the pbapel door a little. Father Antony, rapidly lowering the light, took his seat on the chair beside the prie Jdieu. The steps, steadily advancing, now resounded in the ante-chamber. At length, by the feeble rays of the half-extinguished lamp, the priest was able to distinguish) the figure of a tall, well-built man of powerful physique as he entered the room and carefully closed the door behind him. A sepulchral silence now settled over the whole household. Ten minutes elapsed, a,nd the sitillness, in itself nigh painful, remained unbroken. Suddenly the explosion of a pistol sent a thrill of terror, mingled with pain and sorrow, through -the hearts . of the other members of the community. 'My God ! he's murdered,' said the superior, as'^tith one bound he rushed for the room where the,- horrible crime had just been committed. He flung hi'riise'lf violently against the d,oor, but finding thai; it bad been carefully secured, he called out in a loud voice.: ' Father Antony !. Father Antony f ' . -"}. There was no reply. He knocked -again and again without receiving an answer. By_ this • time-, the third priest was on the scene. In the meantime Brother Dominic, without uttering a word, turned on Ijhe lights in the hall and on the staircase-; then, when he had carefully scoured the entrance door so as 'to cut off the murderer's retreat, he joined- the other two priests, who were still unable to enter Father Antony's room. The superior knocked a third time, and as there was no response, he, together with his two friends, proceeded to fo"ce the lock. After a little while the door, was thrown open and, to the great relief of his comrades, the figure of the young Jesuit appeared, pale, but ~as serene as ever. 'It is nothing,' said he. 'In honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary, go away.' ' No, ' said the superior, forcing his way - intoC ~th© room. But Father Antony,, .holding him iback, bentdown and uttered a few words into his ear which oaused the superior to withdraw at once. The religious returned again to the chapel, and, kneeling in th(*lr former place, patiently awaited the x&suit of that private colloquy. " (To be concluded next week.)