Rudolf J. Wiemann
San Antonio of Padua
Foreword
‘I-yi-yi!’ I keep on sighing,
For the times are truly trying.
Or would someone care to say
In this day and age, ‘No way!’
While with childlike disposition
Paging through the dawn edition?
Pretty poems, prose creations,
Malt extract and stock quotations,
Washers, mowers, halitosis,
Hoof disease and trichinosis,
That is all you’ll ever see -
Where, though, finds one piety??
Stays not now - o sinful land! -
Secular arm the clerical hand
That one thus may freely snag
Sacerdotalism’s bag?!
Even Austria is rife
With critique of cloistered life -
And so on along this vain.
In the end, though, there waits pain!!
Yes, it certainly is frightful!
So it’s all the more delightful
When one reads that at one time
Piety was paradigm -
When Antonio for one,
Our Church’s brilliant son,
Suffered, struggled, overcame
To all Christendom’s acclaim. -
This then let us gladly ponder
And reflect upon with wonder.
FIRSTLY
Early Talents
Though man, before he wins the day,
May stumble, fall, or go astray,
Though future saints may most of all
Be answering temptation’s call,
This law is valid, come what may:
Who is like that, will be that way.
And Tony clearly did express
An early knack for saintliness. -
One counts among one’s tribulations
The Church’s fasting obligations.
One fasts because on is contrite.
To Tony, though, ‘twas sheer delight,
For liver dumplings, bullion, veal
Did not attract him a great deal,
But those good things which one prepares
With flour and sugar - smooth affairs
With cinnamon and, from the udder
Of Bossy, milk and creamy budder -
Let me just mention almond tortes,
Steamed noodles, fritters of all sorts,
Plus waffles, crêpes, and honeyed bread -
Those always stood him in good stead.
On Fridays he was on his own
To castigate himself alone.
That day he most of all revered.
He rose at dawn and disappeared
In secret through the barn’s back door.
Inside, there on the threshing floor,
The good hen Piccola would lay
Her morning egg concealed in hay.
He sucked it dry, which goes to tell
That the dumb animal as well
With its thought of as mindless deeds
Must serve the pious person’s needs.
An orchard man and licensee
Of Tony’s hometown fishery,
A codger, being fond of meats
And caring not for Friday’s eats -
A truly faithless fellow, he! -
On that same day determinedly
Forsook his Christian hearth to strive
Toward his heretical, dim dive
Where one, as at the parish fair,
Scarfs roast and sausage by the pair.
For shame! But Tony came around
When the old man was tavern bound
And on his quiet grounds felt free
To visit plum and cherry tree,
Then amble to the bubbling brook
To give the fisher’s lines a look,
So that he oftentimes was able
To fetch a fish for mother’s table. -
Blessed are the pious! All things must
Turn out to help those who are just. -
But not the fast alone would find
Young Tony of a cheerful mind.
No, all those many feast days, too,
He lived with much enjoyment through
And, like our oldsters, took great care
To always keep the parish fair.
In many churches far and near
He took confession in good cheer
And gave the record slips he got
To other boys - for not a lot.
Where mass was said, he was around;
Where Julie knelt, he could be found;
For this dear girl, though somewhat pale,
A little older, less than hale,
Held by the faith she demonstrated
The pious youngster captivated.
Ah, you young girls! How peachy keen
A paradigm can here be seen!
At times, when frigid tempests brewed,
His spirit yearned for solitude
So that, deep in his cozy nest
Far from the school’s and world’s unrest,
A recluse, pensively he lay
Way deep into the wintry day. -
In short, one could already see
Those talents in their infancy
Which later in his time of grace
Would make him Christendom’s great ace.
SECONDLY
Love and Conversion
An error which is widely spread
And keeps a lot of boys misled
Is one that fancies love to be
An avenue to lasting glee.
As Tony grew in years, he too
Was holding to this point of view,
For, ah, he still was much in love
With Julia, as told above,
Although this pretty wench did go
And wed another lucky beau.
And so one cold, cold evening when
He serenaded her again
In hopes that with his zither’s chords
He’d pluck his way toward sweet rewards,
A soft “Psst! Psst!” comes to his ear
And sends a wave of warmth and cheer
Through life and limb half froze and numb.
“Psst! Psst!” She beckons him to come!
Borne by the wings of hope, he dares
To heed the wink and fly upstairs.
Who wouldn’t, sitting out there freezing,
Thaw out his glassy ears by squeezing
Them to a bosom soft and tender
Thus warm well-being to engender?
Antonio, chock-full of bliss,
Upstairs is hoping just for this.
But, oh, he barely takes a seat,
When there’s the sound of nearing feet.
The clang of spurs heard through the wall
Betrays her husband in the hall.
“Quick! ‘neath the tub!” the lady cries,
And Tony hastily complies.
But in their haste, the furry cat
Is also covered by the vat.
The mistress of the house is letting
Herself be drawn into some petting.
But Tony, feeling rather cramped,
Has got his fingers sorely clamped.
And now the cat begins to wail
With pain sensations in her tail.
She thinks, Antonio is the cause
And tears at him with fangs and claws.
The tub and couple are upset.
The cat will not let go just yet.
With drawn epee attacks the man.
Antonio ducks as best he can
And freezing, low, and on all fours
Comes to a cloister’s somber doors.
O world, you’ve naught to offer me!
O girls, I ban the thought of you!
Henceforth the Queen of Heaven be
My heart’s beloved sovereign, too.
Salve Regina!
THIRDLY
The Likeness of Our Lady
A hopeful youth may by and by
Resolve the painter’s art to try,
And Brother Tonio who stays,
To rally from his sinful ways,
In Padua’s monastery, yearning
For deeper spiritual learning,
Has, ere much time elapsed, detected
How those nice pictures are effected,
And paints in red and blue on gold
Our Lady, splendid to behold.
With angles winging at her sides,
Out of the Pearly Gates she glides.
Her left holds up her royal blue vesture,
Her right waves gently in restraint,
Part threat, part mercy in her gesture
Approaches she the budding saint.
But at her feet there squirms with might
The devil, made to look a fright.
The devil, though, was not oblivious
To being made to look so hideous,
And planned and plotted with a frown
How he could take the brother down.
A convent on the nearby heights
Was home to the Sister Carmelites,
And curatrix on duty there
Was Sister Laurentia, chaste and fair.
So happy in her faith, so meek
Was she that Tonio who does seek
True goodness where it is astir,
Has for some time admired her -
Of course, only to a point and generally,
As far our Mother Church will let it be.
One night as he lies half asleep on his bed
With dreams popping in and out of his head,
There appears in his cell by the moonlight’s glow
Laurentia whom he admires so,
Leans forward and whispers urgently,
“Antonio, dear! Don’t you recognize me?
I have fled my convent’s harsh obligations -
Could not resist my true inclinations.
I took, out of longing for you in my heart,
The convent’s silver and got a good start.
Up, up, Antonio, do likewise, and let us flee
As far as we need to, by land or by sea!”
This strikes the monk’s fancy. He quickly gets
The holy vessels from their cabinets,
Stashes them all in his habit’s pleats,
Picks up the hemline and retreats. -
But once outside, within the hour
His love and longing all turned sour.
Instead of Laurentia, so dear and fair,
Old Nick himself stood suddenly there.
“Haha!” laughed the devil. “Such are our ways!
You painted the devil, and now he pays!”
He threw off his habit and quickly rose
And rousted the brothers from their repose.
Poor Antonio found this matter most trying,
And he wrung his hands with much sighing and crying,
Thinking that he would never find
A way out of this most awful bind.
But look, from the cloud bank’s misty veil
Our Lady appears and bids him hail.
“Take heart, Antonio, for I am merciful. Lo,
You shan’t be harmed by the Evil Foe!
With great benevolence I recall
My likeness in the cloistered hall.”
Thus spoke she, waived gently with her right,
And glided upward and out of sight.
Not long thereafter a sizable throng
Of monks in pursuit comes running along
And leads with a lot of ‘Heyhey!’ and ‘Hoho!’
To the jail cell the wretched Antonio.
But in the morning, when the bell was heard
And the monks themselves to mass bestirred,
Sits busy and free - by all the saints! -
Antonio by his easel and paints!
In the jail cell’s corner, however, there crouches
The devil and gnashes his teeth and grouches.
The prior, for his part, not being dull,
Dips his whisk briskly and sprinkles his skull,
And with much howling and a great, big crash
Old Nick flies away with the window sash. -
Quite useful is the painter’s art,
If holiness does play a part.
FOURTHLY
Two Voices From Above
One time Brother Antonio did peacefully stride
In official affairs through the countryside.
His travel companion was the facetious
And ever carefree Dr. Alopecius.
(Oh, he was one of those real beauties!)
Everywhere he greets the bucolic cuties,
Chucks them under the chin with an elegant sweep,
Gives them nice pictures of saints to keep,
And does a ‘dominus vobiscum!’ here and there
Over a maidenly bodice fair,
As on a trip one sees nature through eyes
More in tune with its beauty than otherwise.
The humble Brother Antonio, though,
Who had sworn all earthly love to forgo,
Kept both his heart and his mind serene
By recalling his likeness of the Heavenly Queen.
He walked by himself and prayed through the medium
Of the ‘salve’ and the ‘sub tuum praesidium’.
They continued all day. It drew to a close.
A weather over the horizon arose.
Gray clouds billowed up in towering creations
And rumbled with ominous thunderations.
Here laughs and says the forever facetious
And wickedly flippant Dr. Alopecius,
“Sounds like the ol’ fellow’s doing his thing!
Sure is making the ol’ welkin ring!”
And closer the threatening cloud bank tumbles.
The storm grows fierce, loud thundering rumbles.
But Antonio feels safe as he prays through the medium
Of the ‘salve’ and he ‘sub tuum praesidium’.
The Doctor, though, merely tightens his grip
On his bumbershoot and laughingly jokes, “Let ‘er rip!!”
But hark! Like the trumpet on judgment day
Rings a voice from above saying, “Slay!!” and again, “Slay!!”
“All right!!!” sounds in ire
Voice two full of fire.
Huiitt!! Clatter-a-crack!! - And the thunderhead
Sends a bolt which strikes Alopecius dead.
But Antonio feels safe as he prays through the medium
Of the ‘salve’ and the ‘sub tuum praesidium.’
He wanders apace while continuing to pray.
Once more thunders the first voice saying, “Slay!!” and again, “Slay!!”
“Yea, slay!! But she’ll have none of it!!!”
So sounds in ire
Voice two full of fire,
And grudgingly does the weather go by. -
Antonio under a friendlier sky
Prayerfully continues on his route
(Thank thee, defender of the devout!)
Till he is finally reclaimed
By Padua, the fair and famed.
FIFTHLY
The Parish Fair
To Padua’s big parish fair
Journeys the brotherhood’s flower,
For pious Christians may purchase there
Indulgences of marvelous power.
The brotherhood and sorority
A mighty thirst were feeling,
But an inn did welcome them presently
With beer and sausage appealing.
And when at night they went to bed,
No proper care they were taking.
The tavern burned, and the sky was red
With flames upon their awaking.
The cloister with its winery
Lay in the windward direction.
The monks lamented mightily,
Antonio prayed for protection:
“Ave Maria, mundi spes!
Preserve for your wretched troupe -
You know it’s ours by your grace -
The vino in stave and hoop!”
And lo, no longer do they dart,
Those blood red flares of fire.
The pious brothers again take heart
And to singing it does them inspire:
“The juice which from the grape did pour
Makes a convincing case!
Hurrah! We all are full once more -
Once more we’re full of grace!”
SIXTHLY
Bishop Rusticus
Old Padua hosts an avowed-
ly reverential Christian crowd.
To church and chapel all move with the flow
To hear the pious Antonio
And listen attentively at the source
To his sermons delivered with uncommon force.
In his presence also, with the spirit imbued,
Marvelous signs and miracles ensued.
But, alas, a forever secular tribe
To which things like this will rarely jibe
Grumbles and mumbles and mutters much
Of wicked witchcraft and the devil’s touch
And denounces the pious Antonius
To the good Bishop Rusticus.
The bishop summons, Antonio appears.
“News of your deeds has reached my ears!
But is your faith still unimpaired?”
At once Antonio, his cranium bared,
Suspends his cap from a sun ray bright
And lets it hang there in plainest sight.
“Bravo!” the bishop says. “But this
Could well be the devil’s artifice!”
Nearby there played with sand and toy
A deaf and dumb little foundling boy,
And no one around here ever had
Any knowledge at all of his mother and dad.
Says Antonio to him, “Please, be answering me!
My boy, who might your dear parents be?”
Of all the miracles! He who to this day
Never once spoke, had this to say,
“The Bishop Rust - - - !” he began to gush.
“Hushshsh!!!” says the bishop. ”All right! All right!
Antonio, you are favored in God’s sight!!”
›From that time onward over Antonio,
For all to see, a halo would glow.
SEVENTHLY
Confession
At that time lived in Padua
The gorgeous temptress Monika.
Of ogling her, men wouldn’t tire.
When she beheld the pious friar,
She hatched a plan which she was hoping would get
Him snarled and tangled up in her net.
“Go, bring this holy man to me,
That I may then confess!” says she.
He came and stepped up to her bed.
She was so sick, she seemed half dead.
“Oh, welcome, holy man! God bless!
And listen to what I confess.”
Antonio’s voice was calm and steady,
“Continue, my daughter, I am listening already!”
“On Friday night, a week ago -
Dear Lord! It still disturbs me so! -
I was in bed, it was past nine,
In stepped a trusted friend of mine.
I couldn’t help it - I declare!
He just sat down on my bedside chair -
Ah, pious Father Antonio,
Just like you sit there! Exactly so!”
Antonio’s voice was calm and steady,
“Continue, my daughter, I am listening already!”
“ He sat and not a word spoke he,
And all the time he looked at me.
He looked so pious and so kind
That in the end I didn’t mind.
I was, to tell the truth, quite fond
Of his blue eyes. His beard was blond -
Ah, dearest Father Antonio,
Just like your own! Exactly so!”
Antonio’s voice was calm and steady,
“Continue, my daughter, I am listening already!”
“And softly teasing with his right,
He touched my undone braids a mite.
He drew my hand up to his lips
And nibbled at my finger tips - - -
Ah, dearest Father Antonio!
Thus nibbled he! Exactly so!!!”
Antonio’s voice was calm and steady,
“Continue, my daughter, I am listening already!”
“Thus nibbled he. Then, no more meek,
He pressed his lips against my cheek
And said, ‘Dear, do you love me true??’
‘Yes!’ said I. ‘ Madly I love you!!’
Yes, dearest, best Antonio! I love you madly!! Just like so!!!”
But Antonio’s voice became quite unsteady,
“Accursed wench, I see already!!!” -
With dignity he turns around -
Slam! goes the door - he’s homeward bound.
Fair Monika in wonderment
Said, staring as away he went,
“I have known so many a pious male,
But this one is surely beyond the pale!!”
EIGHTHLY
Pilgrimage
A Christian feels a strong desire
The holy tomb to view.
Antonio is all afire
To go and see it, too.
It’s fitting for a pious man
To plan a thing with care.
He gets a donkey if he can
His travel gear to bear.
Thus strode they out of town one day
And ventured in good cheer.
The saintly man, he led the way,
The ass brought up the rear.
Soon from the forest hiding place
A big, brown bear brakes free.
He grabs the helpless ass apace
And eats him casually.
Antonio, a Christian true,
Is calmly taking note:
“Old boy, as soon as you are through,
You’ll have your turn to tote!”
The saint knows how to travel right.
The bear heeds his command,
And carries him till they set sight
Upon the Holy Land.
On Solomon’s great temple ground
Of stones there is no lack.
The biggest one which lay around,
Antonio does pack.
He says, “This stone I’ll take along!”
The bear, he grunts, “Ruff-ruff!”
But we don’t care about his song,
He totes it sure enough.
The bear, although run-down and tired,
A rapid trot he hit
Toward Padua, renowned and spired.
There Tonio alit.
And mildly spoke the pious man,
“My friend, you may now go!
How things can go against one’s plan,
I dare say, now you know!”
As to the woods the bear now took,
He had just this to say,
“I’ll never give another look
Them donkeys, come what may!”
NINTHLY
Last Temptation
Now San Antonio was prone
To often sitting all alone
And reading by his halo’s light
Quite deep into the dark of night.
One night, as he sits there like that at his ease,
He hears the clearing of a throat and a sneeze,
And when the good man looks up from his book,
A pretty young girl gives him that look.
However, San Antonio was not stirred
In his composure when this occurred.
“Go ahead, girl,” he said, “and look without cease.
You shan’t be troubling my Christian peace!?”
And as he sits calmly there once more
Reading in his folio like before,
Whoosh-whoosh! - dainty finger tips tickle and roam
Behind his ears and across his bald dome,
Causing him feelings as if he got
Alternately cold and hot.
However, San Antonio was not stirred
In his composure when this occurred.
“Go ahead, girl,” he said, “and tickle without cease.
You shan’t be troubling my Christian peace!”
“Well! - - Well! I said, ‘Well, well!!’”
“Hm! hm! - - hm! hm!!!”
But next and quite unexpectedly
That pretty young girl sits down on his knee
And gives the poor saint before he can speak
A most hearty kiss on either cheek.
However, San Antonio was greatly stirred
In his composure when this occurred.
He jumped to his feet at so much gall,
He took the cross off of the wall,
“Oh, unclean spirit, part from me!
Be as you are, whoever you be!!”
Zoot!! There now zooms with much to-do
The Evil One up the chimney flue.
But a cheerful and calm Antonio
Went back to reading in his folio.
Our dearest, saintliest Antonio,
You know us, O!
So let us while we’re on this earth
Also attain such saintly worth!
TENTHLY
Hermit’s Life and Ascent into Heaven
San Antonio finally, it is said, was resigned
To leaving all earthly concerns behind.
Into the deep, dark woods he withdrew
Where he ate moss and sipped the dew.
And there he sits under all kinds of skies
And prays till he nearly mummifies
And till in the end the leafy growth
Sticks from his ears and nostrils both.
“From here I shall not move,” says he,
“Unless a sign first came to me!”
And lo! right then through branch and sprig,
Out of the thicket trots a wild pig
Which roots and soon reveals right here
A springlet, cool and crystal clear,
Then grunts and snorts and roots a mound
Of truffles from the forest ground.
San Antonio now thanks and praises his best
And eats and drinks with arrested zest,
And moved he says, “Dear pig, abide
And be forever by my side!”
Thus lived the two in a harmonious way
Upon this earth yet for many a day
Till together they died as trusty mates
And together rose up to the Pearly Gates. -
“A pig, a pig! Oi vey, oi vey!”
The Jewry shouted in great dismay.
And also the crowd of Turks grew big,
And protested admittance of the pig. -
But lo! out of the heaven’s door
Our Lady presently steps to the fore.
Her left holds up her royal blue vesture,
Her right waves gently in restraint,
Part threat, part mercy in its gesture,
She moves she unto the scene so quaint.
“Welcome, do enter in good cheer!
Friend won’t be torn from friend up here.
So many a donkey passes through,
Why not a worthy pig then too!!”
Here grunts the pig and the host elates
As together they pass through the Pearly Gates.
From the German
´Der Heilige Antonius von Padua´
by Wilhelm Busch.
Translated by Rudolf J. Wiemann, P. E.
St. Paul, USA
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