The story of Saint Stanislaus Kostka
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William T. Kane, S.J. >> The story of Saint Stanislaus Kostka
After the talk, the novices, according to custom, discussed amongst
themselves what had been said. It came Stanislaus' turn to speak.
He said:
"What Father Canisius has just told us is a holy warning for all, of
course. But for me it is something more, because this month of
August is to be really my last month 'upon earth."
To be sure, no one paid special attention to this strange remark.
Novices often say things that will not bear too much analysis.
Particularly no one would look seriously upon what Stanislaus had
said, since he was at the time in perfect health.
Four days later, the feast of our Lady of the Snows, Stanislaus had
occasion to go with the great theologian, Father Emmanuel de Sa, to
the church of Santa Maria Maggiore. For there the beautiful feast
is kept with singular ceremony, as that church is the one connected
with the origin of the feast. Each year, during Vespers on August
5th, a shower of jasmin leaves sifts down from the high dome of a
chapel in Santa Maria Maggiore, to commemorate the miraculous snow
in August which marked out the spot where the church was to be built.
As they went along, de Sa turned the talk to the coming feast of the
Assumption of our Blessed Lady. Stanislaus spoke with delight, as
he always spoke of our Lady.
"When our Lady entered paradise," he said, "I think God made a new
glory for His Mother, and all the saints made a court about her and
did reverence to her as we do to a king. And I hope," he added;
"that I shall be up there myself to enjoy this coming feast."
Again his words were not taken at their face value. Father de Sa
thought he spoke of being in heaven in spirit for the feast.
The practice, now common, was new then, of alloting to each in the
community as special patron some particular saint whose feast
occurred during the month. Stanislaus had drawn Saint Lawrence for
his patron. The feast of the Saint is celebrated on August 10th.
Stanislaus, who had clear intimations of his quickly approaching
death, and was eager to go to heaven, asked Saint Lawrence to
intercede for him that his home-going might be on the Feast of the
Assumption. He got permission to practice some penances in honor of
the Saint. He prepared for the feast with unusual devotion. On the
morning of the 10th when he went to Holy Communion, he carried on
his breast a letter he had written to our Lady. It was such a
letter as a boy, away from home, and homesick, might write to his
mother, asking her to bring him home.
After breakfast, Stanislaus, still in entire health, was sent to
work in the kitchen, where he spent the rest of the morning, washing
dishes, carrying wood for the fire, helping the cook generally.
But by evening he was decidedly unwell. To the fellow-novice who
helped him to bed he said quietly, "I am going to die, you know, in
a few days."
Claude Acquaviva hurried to him as soon as he learned he was ailing.
Father Fazio, the novice-master, also came. Stanislaus told each of
the favor he had begged from our Lady, and that he hoped strongly
his request would be granted.
That was on the evening of Wednesday, the 10th. He appeared to be no
better or worse on Thursday and Friday. But Friday evening he was
moved from his ordinary room to a quieter place in a higher story of
the house. Those who went with him noted that before he lay down,
he knelt on the floor and prayed a while and made the sign of the
cross over the bed, saying, "This is my deathbed."
Now they began to believe him and were frightened a little. So
Stanislaus added, with a smile, "I mean, of course, if it so please
God."
He continued in about the same condition until Sunday, August 14th.
That day he said to the laybrother who was taking care of him:
"Brother, I'm going to die to-night."
The brother laughed at him, and said:
"Nonsense, man! Why, it would take a greater miracle to die of so
trifling a matter than to be cured of it."
But by noon of that day Stanislaus became unconscious. Father Fazio
was with him at once and administered restoratives. Very soon
Stanislaus was himself again, bright and smiling as ever. Father
Fazio began to joke with him.
"O man of little heart!" he said. "To give up courage in so slight
a sickness!"
Stanislaus answered, "A man of little heart I admit I am. But the
sickness, Father, is not so very slight, since I'm going to die of it."
And, indeed, he began to fail rapidly. By evening the death-sweat
stood out upon him, the vital warmth little by little withdrew from
hands and feet to the citadel of his heart. When the last light of
day was gone from the sky, he made his confession and received the
Holy Viaticum. A great many of his fellow-novices were present, and
some wept. He was a good comrade, they did not want to see him
depart from them.
Then he received Extreme Unction. He made the answers to the
prayers himself. Afterward he confessed again, in order to receive
the plenary indulgence granted for the hour of death. And after that
he talked for a little time, kindly and cheerfully, to those about
him, and bidding them good-by, turned his mind and his heart to heaven.
Three Fathers stayed with him through the silence of the night, when
the rest had gone to bed. Most of the time he prayed, either aloud
with his watchers, or silently by himself. He left messages to his
more intimate friends, and asked the Fathers to beg pardon for any
offense he had given.
During the evening he had begged to be laid on the bare ground, that
he might die as a penitent. Toward midnight, as he still asked it,
they lifted him on the little mattress of his bed and placed him on
it upon the floor. There he lay, very quiet, whilst midnight tolled
from the great churches of the city. The Fathers knelt beside him,
praying silently with him, or giving him from time to time the
crucifix to kiss.
At length, about three o'clock in the morning, he stopped praying,
and a great joy shone in his face. He looked about him from side to
side, and seemed with his eyes to ask his companions to join him in
reverencing some one who was present.
Father Ruiz bent over and asked him:
What is it, Stanislaus?
"Our Lady!" he whispered. "Our Lady has come, just as in Vienna."
Then he seemed to listen to voices they could not hear. His lips
moved silently, forming inaudible words. His eyes were bright and
joyful. He stretched out his arms, fell back, and died with a smile
upon his lips. Our Lady had come for him, and with her he went
home. Dawn was breaking on the Feast of the Assumption, 1568.
CHAPTER XV
AFTERMATH
Stanislaus lacked six or eight weeks of being eighteen years old
when he died. He had not been a preacher or writer or engaged in any
public work. Only a handful of people in Rome so much as knew of
his existence. Yet no sooner was he dead than crowds flocked about
him as about a dead saint.
The General, Francis Borgia, ordered the body to be put into a
coffin, which was an unusual thing at that time, and to be buried at
the right hand of the high altar in the church.
Meantime the Lord John Kostka still raged in Poland. He had written
a most severe letter to Stanislaus shortly after Stanislaus arrived
in Rome: a letter full of threats and anger, to which Stanislaus had
replied kindly and affectionately, explaining to his father that he
had to follow God's call at any cost
But the Lord John was not to be so easily put off. He ordered his
eldest son, Paul, on to Rome, with power to bring back Stanislaus to
his home at Kostkov.
Paul traveled in some state and with no great haste. He reached
Rome in the middle of September, 1568, to find that God had been
beforehand with him, and that Stanislaus had indeed already gone
home, to heaven.
He had been greatly impressed at the time of Stanislaus' flight from
Vienna, by the incidents which seemed to show God's direct guidance
and protection in regard to his brother. Now, when the Fathers led
him to the still new tomb of Stanislaus, he broke down utterly and
cried like a child. He stayed a time beside the tomb, and when he
came forth he was a different Paul.
Every one was talking with admiration of Stanislaus and of the
marvels that had surrounded his life and death. Paul hurried back
to Poland with his story, at once sad and joyful. The heart of the
old Castellan was moved. He had lost a son, but he had gained a saint.
A year later appeared two short Lives of Stanislaus, one in Polish
by Father Warscewiski, his fellow-novice, another in Latin. All
through Poland the devotion to the young novice spread rapidly.
Soon authoritative "processes" toward his beatification were drawn
up under the care of the bishops of various places in which
Stanislaus had spent his short years.
Thirty-six years after his death, Pope Clement VIII issued a brief
(February 18, 1604) in which he declared Stanislaus "Blessed" and
granted indulgences on the anniversary of his death.
But long before this the Lord John had died, and his youngest son,
Albert, struck by sudden congestion of the lungs before his father's
body was laid to rest, died also, and was buried in the same grave
with him.
Of the four sons only Paul was left. From the day he stood by the
tomb of Stanislaus, he had changed entirely. Bitter remembrance of
his harshness and brutality to the dead saint was with him always
and urged him to a life of penance and prayer. He never married,
but passed his days largely at the castle of Kostkov in retirement
with his widowed mother.
He busied himself in constant works of charity, spending his great
fortune in helping the poor and in establishing hospitals and
building churches. He wore himself out in prayer and labor and
fasting. Men marveled at him, and many sneered at him, as he had
once sneered at Stanislaus.
But those long, hard years were not unhappy for him. He and his
mother, Margaret Kostka, had learned Stanislaus' secret of
happiness, and lived in spirit in that bright home to which
Stanislaus had gone.
Then Margaret died, and Paul was alone. He had wished to withdraw
from the world altogether. But he felt unworthy to ask admission
into a religious order. However, realizing at length that his death
could not be far distant, and that he could at worst be a burden for
only a very short time, he wrote to Claude Acquaviva, who was then
General of the Society of Jesus, and begged that he might at least
die in the Society to which Stanislaus had belonged. Acquaviva
readily dispensed with the impediment of age and ordered the
Provincial of Poland, Father Strinieno, to receive him.
Paul hastened to the royal court, then at Pietscop, to settle his
worldly affairs before taking up his residence in the noviceship.
But scarcely had he completed his arrangements, when fever seized
him, and he died after a few days' illness. He died November 13,
1607: the very day of the month afterwards fixed as the feast of
Saint Stanislaus.
Bilinski, too, the tutor of Stanislaus, showed in after life the
fruit of Stanislaus' prayers. He became Canon of Pultowa and Plock
and lived holily. It was his privilege to bear testimony to many
events in the life of Stanislaus, and he was a very valuable witness
in the "processes" for his pupil's beatification. When death came,
Stanislaus appeared to him in vision, consoling and encouraging him,
and he died in great peace.
All this time the people of Poland had been eager in their
devotion to the Blessed Stanislaus. Many cures and miracles had
been wrought through his intercession. In 1621, under the Polish
king, Sigismund III, and again in 1676, under Yan Sobieski, the
Poles won pronounced victories over Turkish armies which far
outnumbered their own, and attributed these preternatural successes
to the prayers of Stanislaus.
The whole nation, through its kings, repeatedly petitioned that
Stanislaus might be declared their Patron. This was at first
refused, as only canonized saints were given the title of Patron
of a nation. But Clement x granted the request in 1671, setting
aside the decree which forbade it.
The Church is slow in declaring any one a saint. It was not until
December 13, 1726, one hundred and fifty-eight years after the
death of Stanislaus, that Benedict XIII solemnly celebrated his
canonization in the Basilica of St. Peter. It was a double
ceremony, for it was also the occasion of the canonization of
Saint Aloysius, who had been born in March of the same year in
which Stanislaus died.
* * * * * * * * *
This little account has not done justice to the life of Stanislaus
Kostka; and, indeed, it is very hard to do justice to it. He was
a most human and lovable boy, but he was besides a wonderful,
bright being that eludes the grip of our common minds. He was a
citizen of heaven, who lived here amongst us, kindly and
companionable indeed, during eighteen years of exile. To try to
describe him is like trying to describe a star in the far sky of
night.
That love for God, of which we speak so brokenly, which at its
best in us is so small and cold, was the soul of his soul, the
inner core and substance of his life. Here, in the misty country
of faith, he had something of that radiant and rapturous union
with God which all of us, as we hope, shall one day have in
heaven.
All the sweet and strong twining of our hearts about father and
mother and relatives and dear friends, all that binds us in
affection to those we love in life, was multiplied and made many
times stronger in his rare nature and lifted up by God's grace to
fix itself upon God, the infinite Goodness, the supreme Beauty.
God was not a mere Name or a Power to him, not even the mere Lord
and Master of all: God was his friend, his dearest intimate, his
sure, strong, patient, loving counselor; whose presence was with
him, waking and sleeping; whose interests were nearest his heart;
whose commands it was a delight to obey; whose slightest wish and
beckoning was eagerly watched for and joyously followed.
To catch the secret and true meaning of his life, one must feel how
that love for God thrilled through him, was his. courage in action,
his endurance in suffering, his sweetness and kindness in all
dealings with other men. It was his life. And when we have said
and realized that, we have come nearest to knowing who and what
really was Stanislaus Kostka.