Beatriz Kimpa Vita and the Kingdom of Kongo
One of the chapters of my next book deals with Dona Beatriz Kimpa Vita (c.1684-1706) and the Antonian movement in the Kingdom of Kongo. In 1704, Kimpa Vita (a native of a small village to the east of M’banza-Kongo) emerged from a seven-day illness claiming to be Saint Anthony of Padua. As Saint Anthony, she set to work trying to unify a deeply fractured kingdom and reform the Roman Catholic Church. She argued, for example, that Jesus, Mary, and Saint Francis of Assisi were all African, and that Jesus had been born in the Congo rather than Bethlehem. She changed the words of many Catholic prayers, argued against baptism and even invented a new prayer for her movement, the “Salve Antoniana.” She quickly attracted many followers, and her influence led both the Church (represented primarily by Capuchin Franciscan friars) and Bakongo elites (most notably King Pedro IV) to see her as a threat.
An important contemporary account of the Antonian movement is the relazione written by the Caphucin friar Bernardo da Gallo (d. 1717). Gallo had a front-row seat to the rise and fall of Kimpa Vita, and while he certainly can’t be considered an objective voice in the whole matter, his relazione does contain a great deal of important data regarding the Antonian movement and its support among both Bakongo nobles and common people. The original Italian text of the relazione can be found reproduced in Teobaldo Filesi, “Nazionalismo e religione nel Congo all’inizio del 1700: la setta degli antoniani.” Africa, vol. 26, no. 4, 1971, pp. 463-508. A French version exists in Louis Jadin, “Le Congo et la secte des Antoniens: restauration du royaume sous Pedro IV et la ‘saint Antoine’ congolaise (1694-1718),” Bulletin de l'Institut Historique Belge de Rome, vol. 33, 1961, pp. 411-615. I’m not aware of any English translation of Gallo’s full text, so posting my own translation here. I hope it’s useful.
Relation of the Latest Civil Wars of the Kingdom of Congo; of the Battle Given by King D. Pedro IV; and of the Victory Obtained by Him Against the Rebels. As Well as of the Schism in the Faith Caused by a Woman Who Pretended to Be St. Anthony, Happily Overcome by Her Death.
Bernardo da Gallo
I was at the mission of Bengo, not far from the city of Luanda, when, in the year of Our Lord 1701, I received orders to go and assist the mission of Mbamba, sent to me by Father Francesco da Pavia, who was then Prefect and was himself in the Kingdom of Kongo. And although I could have declined to execute it—partly because I was not in good health, partly because news from the Prefecture had already been sent to the new Prefect, Father Luca da Caltanissetta—I nevertheless wished to submit myself to these orders, setting aside every other consideration, however lawful and just. So I set out on the road; and after suffering many hardships on the journey due to lack of health and porters, I finally arrived at Mbamba. There, after eight or ten days, Father Francesco da Pavia also arrived, returning from Soyo, as well as Father Luca da Caltanissetta, coming from Kibangu, and both were on their way to Loanda.
In January of the following year, 1702, I again received orders from the new Prefect, Father Luca da Caltanissetta, to go in the company of Father Giovanni Maria da Barletta to establish two hospices in Ngobela, so as to facilitate entry into the kingdom of the great Makoko, which on the map is called Mpumbu, bordering on the Empire of the Abyssinians, or Prester John, whom the Bakongo call Nguia. We immediately set out on the road for this foundation. But having arrived at Kibangu, where the King of Kongo was fortified, he would not allow us to pass on and insisted that we stay with him. Then Father Barletta was recalled to Mbamba, and I was forced to remain with the King, alone. Alone I remained in those parts for more than eight years, due to the scarcity of missionaries, enduring what God knows.
The Bakongo longed to see themselves once more in their principal city, called São Salvador, destroyed many years earlier by the wars with the Portuguese. They longed, I say, for peace in their kingdom with its complete restoration and with the establishment of the Holy Faith, which greatly wavered in those forests. To this end I found that the King, on the advice of Father Francesco da Pavia, had sent ahead some of his principal vassals with many people to cultivate the land along the route, a day’s journey from São Salvador, so that once the city was repopulated, the people would not perish of hunger.
Among these vassals was the Captain-General D. Pedro Constantino da Silva, called the Kibenga, of royal lineage, whose sister’s daughter the King had taken as wife for the sake of peace—though he never had any relations with her for fear of treachery through poisoned food or drink. There was also the Majordomo and Secretary of State, D. Manuel da Cruz Barbosa; the Marquis of Vunda; the Sergeant-Major; and many others who strongly pressed the King’s descent from the mountain of Kibangu, so that he might go to the royal city. But because the King did not trust them much—and indeed, due to some ill omens, feared treachery—he delayed as much as he could.
This was for me a great and continual source of anxiety. For the aforesaid vassals reproached me, saying that since I was with the King, I was detaining him; and that by not persuading him to descend, as I ought, I was hindering the restoration of their kingdom. On the other hand, if I spoke of it, those who were at Kibangu with the King—especially his slaves, relatives, and sisters—said that I wanted him to descend so that, once he had left the fortress and was in the open field of the valley, he might be killed by his enemies. Being new in those parts and alone, I thus found myself very embarrassed, with little freedom to perform my office and minister as I wished.
In the year 1703, with the King’s consent, I went to minister among the aforesaid vassals, and advanced as far as Manca, where some others had gone from Mbwila, in obedience to the King, to cultivate that land as well. Some of them, in time, showed themselves to be rebels.
D. Manuel da Cruz Barbosa, on behalf of the others, who never let an opportunity pass without exploiting it, strove to persuade me to leave Kibangu and the King; for, seeing that I had gone ahead toward the court, the King would then be forced to hasten his own descent from the mountain. To make this easier for me, besides other arguments, he gave me this one: since the Capuchin Fathers had been the last to leave São Salvador after its destruction, it was fitting that I, being a Capuchin, should be the first to enter it at the time of its restoration. Moreover, they were going to reestablish the Christian Faith, weakened so much by so many years in the forest. Therefore, since I was a priest, missionary, and their spiritual Father, I ought to guide them and go before them with the cross.
The reasons, indeed, did not seem entirely out of place. But because I was beginning to perceive some odor of rebellion from the Kibenga’s side, I not only paid no heed to them but moreover was obliged to act prudently and be very cautious of what might befall me.
Seeing that they could not succeed in bringing me to their side, nor did they foresee the desired descent of the King, already weary of waiting so long, they began—whether by their own device or by some contriver—to employ improper and unworthy means. Going to the very place where the Kibenga was with his followers, I found that, after the customary evening spiritual exercises, they sang three Ave Marias outside the church, and then cried out three times with loud voices, “Mercy!”, to which those in the houses and the fields replied.
I asked the Kibenga the cause of those new demonstrations. He answered that the Madonna had spoken to a woman and told her that Jesus Christ was angry, and that she was restraining the wrath of her Son; but with this condition—that the people should say every evening three Ave Marias in that fashion and then cry “Mercy.” Smiling at such novelty, I said that I wished to see this woman. He replied that she was a woman unknown in the camp, and that he himself did not know her, nor where she dwelt. Considering then the custom of the blacks to conceal as much as they can from the whites, I did not trouble myself further, since it did not seem that any great harm could be hidden among those rough people beneath the singing of the Ave Maria three times and the cry of “Mercy.” Although I suspected some superstition, I let them do as they pleased.
At that same time, a new rumor began to spread, namely, that a boy had also said that God was about to punish the Bakongo if they did not at once hasten to São Salvador. I inquired into the age of the boy and found that he was full-grown, about seven palms high or thereabouts, who—either by some instruction or by some potion fit to stir the spirits—had dreamed such a thing.
Since their first and second plans had not taken effect, they insisted upon a third. The following year, 1704, after Easter, I wished to go and minister a little in the surrounding valleys and mountains; and descending from Mount Kibangu, I found at its foot an old woman who pretended that the Madonna had also appeared to her—dripping with sweat from the toil of remaining prostrate in prayer before her Son, greatly angered against those of Kibangu: both for their wickedness, and also because they would not descend from the mountain and take the road toward the Court, but most of all against the King himself.
Among other punishments, she said, the mountain was to be burned and swallowed up if they did not soon descend. For this reason, she added, the Madonna had sent her to tell me to go preaching those punishments throughout the mountain; as well as their remedy, which was the descent from the mountain. And, to strengthen her message with greater fervor and fruit, she showed me a stone found in the Mbidizi River, which she claimed was the head of Christ, all disfigured by the blows of men’s wickedness and by the hoe-strikes of women laboring on holy days.
Seeing the madness of this woman, for I suspected some secret collusion, I did nothing but exhort her with gentle words to abandon such foolishness, to repent, to speak of it no more, and to confess. This she did not do. At last, taking the stone from her hands, I went on with my mission.
Returning to the hospice in August, I found that the old woman had not only failed to repent, but the matter had become public, with many people flocking to her, even the Queen herself. The rumor had begun to spread that the old woman was a saint, because she burned charms with other superstitions and worked miracles: among them, that she had healed a woman bitten in the foot by a serpent, and this only with the sign of the cross and the name of the Holy Trinity, and other novelties of the same kind.
Hearing this, I went to the King, begging him to have her seized and placed in my hands, so that I might correct her with harsh words, since she had abused the gentle ones. The King, after repeated entreaties, at last had her summoned, but would not give her into my hands. He wished me to go into his presence, where she was placed before the council, to hear and examine what she said.
This did not seem good to me. First, because—as I had declared at the time of my arrival—I did not wish the King to meddle in the matters of the Church and of the Faith, save only by way of aid. Second, because I feared some public humiliation. Third, because ever since I had gone where the Kibenga was, I had been somewhat under suspicion and had therefore endured mortifications and insults. Fourth, because I suspected that the foolish and superstitious sanctity of the old woman was not her own, but of some other person who had lent it to her, in order to conceal some great treachery, which, breaking out in public at its appointed time, would carry with it the King’s head—something he greatly feared. Fifth, because I had no further hope of having her in my hands, since people would imagine that I intended her grave harm; and so it proved, for when the King gave her liberty again, some of the rabble began to say that I wished to bury her in a ditch from which earth had been dug for the building of the church and hospice.
Thus, having refused the King’s proposal to go into his presence, and the King having granted liberty to the woman (telling me that if I wanted her, I should go and take her myself), I did nothing but commend the matter to the Lord.
The following Sunday the King came to Mass. I brought him into the hospice with his counselors, and, reproaching him severely, I showed him the stone I had taken from the woman’s hands, making him see her foolish sanctity. I also showed him the obligation he had to aid me with his royal arm in matters of the Church and of the Faith. Then, for this and other reasons, I seized the occasion to close the door of the church; and saying Mass in secret, I withdrew myself from his company and that of the people. The principal men, though they always gave me reasons in private, nevertheless adhered to the King so as not to be suspected of treason. Yet there were some who openly offered him their heads in my defense.
While matters stood thus, after about eight days, a black man who served the missions told me that there had appeared a person there calling herself St. Anthony. “Ah, go,” I answered him, “go away and let me be. The Bakongo see me abandoned; therefore they wish to make me die of sorrow, and they go about inventing new devices to give me vexation.” “But no,” the man continued, “the novelty is true, and they say it is not an old woman but a young woman, who works miracles; and where she passed in going up the mountain, the crooked trees straightened themselves and the fallen ones were raised again. She is now in the King’s palace, confirming against you all that the old woman had said: affirming that you are envious and that you do not want there to be saints in Kongo. For this reason, you wanted the old woman in your hands, so as to punish her. You do not want the restoration of the kingdom; and you lack the courage to set yourself to the task, as she will. But all her strength lies in persuading the King to descend from the mountain and go to Court, with the most rigorous threats. She has altered the Salve Regina and makes it to be sung in her manner. I see the people passing by full of fear. Some say perhaps she is a demon sent by God for some punishment. The people are almost in revolt, desiring to descend; and the King knows not what to do. She is preaching against you, against the Pope, and many other things against our Holy Catholic Faith.”
Finding myself entangled in these labyrinths, I cannot describe the affliction of my soul: seeing myself alone, abandoned by my superiors, deprived of every human help, with the danger of the Faith being lost in Kongo, and of beholding the final ruin of that poor kingdom, without any hope of being able to remedy it. And I was all the more afflicted because it seemed to me that I had myself been the cause of it, for not having at once put my hand to the iron and cut the first shoots at the root—though, on the other hand, it seemed to me I could not have done so. In this occasion I had no other remedy than to weep and place God’s cause into His hands.
Soon the glimmers of divine favor began to appear. For about fifteen days later the King himself, accompanied by his counselors, came to beg me, out of pity, to open the church, that God might be prayed to in such perilous circumstances. I had the church opened, but I turned a deaf ear concerning the false St. Anthony: both to show that I despised her and made no account of her, and also to signify that I could not rely on the aid of the royal arm.
Meanwhile, the false St. Anthony—who was staying in the valley of the Mbdizi with the old woman, burning charms, idols that were brought to her, and crosses along with them—taking advantage, just as from the King’s refusal to deliver the old woman into my hands for correction she had taken impunity as license, and made occasion to declare herself a saint, to preach, prophesy, and threaten after her fashion; so now, seeing that I had reconciled myself with the King by opening the church without speaking of her, she took occasion to ascend the mountain once again.
The King—partly to show me courtesy by an act of correspondence, partly because he was intimidated by the murmuring of the people, caused by the false St. Anthony, and for other reasons—sent her to me, accompanied by his counselors and the chief interpreter. And since it was Sunday, the hour already come for Mass, I said to the counselors: “Ah! are you not yet filled, even wearied with the superstitious and diabolical lies of your black St. Anthony? I thank the King my Son for this good thing he has done, but since it is now time to say Mass I cannot stay. Come tomorrow,” I said. I thanked the King my Son—for with this affectionate term priests are accustomed in those parts to address not only the common people, but also marquises and dukes. Even the King himself would refer to the priests as his spiritual fathers.
On the following Monday, then, the counselors returned with the false St. Anthony. She, entering where I awaited them with the counselors, went straight before the statue of the Madonna, which stood opposite the door. There, kneeling down, she struck her forehead hard against the ground three times, and after lingering for a time as if in prayer, she rose up with a disordered smile and made three circles in her walk, while I stood in the middle.
I asked the counselors the cause and meaning of that act. They replied that it was a sign of joy, and that she had done the same before the King. The interpreter added that she seemed like a fool because she had died and then been raised again. “Well,” said I, “you may be right, since you do not speak very well.”
I confess the truth, that in seeing this woman, and considering that she walked on the tips of her toes without touching the ground with the rest of her feet; that she moved her hips and her whole body like a snake; that she held her neck stretched out, like one possessed; that her eyes seemed to bulge from her head; and that finally her speech was like one frenzied and delirious, so that I scarcely understood what she said, and that all her actions were disordered and ill-done—I could not at all believe that these were mere simulations, but that she was in fact also possessed.
I began to question her in the language of the country, in order to satisfy the counselors and the King who had sent them for this purpose. I asked first if she knew what she had just adored. She replied that it was the Madonna, who was covered with a cloth, and that nearby stood the statues of St. Francis and St. Anthony, but that one could easily distinguish one from the other. The counselors, thinking she knew this by some extraordinary means, were astonished.
I asked her who she was. She replied that she was St. Anthony, come down from heaven. “Good,” said I, “and what news do you bring from up there? Tell me—are there black Bakongo in heaven, and if there are, do they retain their skin color?” She replied that in heaven there are Bakongo, baptized children and adults who here below had kept God’s law; but they do not have the color black nor white, for in heaven there is no color at all.
“So, in heaven there are Bakongo, baptized children and adults who have observed the divine law?” I asked again. “Then, I and the other missionaries, preaching the Faith of Christ, the divine law, and the observance of the Ten Commandments—things necessary for eternal salvation—do not preach lies, but truth? Then, in administering the holy sacraments of the Church, especially Baptism, Penance, and Matrimony, we do not deceive the people? Then the Holy Father, the Pope, is not a liar or deceiver, nor does he send us to deceive and disturb the people, as you say, but rather to teach, instruct, and set them in the way of eternal salvation.”
When she heard herself reproved in this way, she began to fear, to weep, and excused herself, saying that she had spoken nothing against me nor against the Pope, but that all were falsehoods said against her to hinder the service of God. Indeed, she claimed, she had spoken in my favor and in that of the Holy Father, teaching that the Pope is the Vicar of Christ on earth, and that I was a priest sent by that same Holy Father to Congo to be their spiritual Father, and for this reason I merited every honor and reverence.
Meanwhile, the aforesaid interpreter who had come with the counselors, by name D. Miguel de Castro, seeing that the woman wept, began to calm her and caress her with the title of “daughter,” telling her to speak freely and fear nothing, since I would do her no harm, she being under their protection.
When I saw that this unworthy man was defending her, I began to burn with zeal, and to raise my voice against him, calling him a wicked man, an unworthy one, a heretic—for he was not ashamed to treat as his daughter an nganga marinda, and to defend a black woman who was sowing discord among poor Christians, with the evident danger of the Holy Faith being lost, not considering that he called himself “Teacher of the Church,” and for that very reason, among others, he ought always to have stood at my side.
He boldly answered me that he could not deny that she was his daughter, since she was of his lineage, but that he had never heard her speak such words. “In the valley of the Mbdizi,” I rejoined, “did she not burn crosses together with charms? Did she not wish to remove even the cross from the royal square, if the King permitted it? Deny this.” “Yes,” answered the false St. Anthony, encouraged by her defender, “it is true, but the crosses in the valley were connected to superstitions.” I dissembled and went on questioning her, wishing to be rid of her presence, since I saw myself opposed by those from whom I had expected help.
I asked: if she was a woman, how then could she say she was St. Anthony? She replied that God had sent St. Anthony, the firstborn saint of the Franciscan Order, who had first entered into the head of a woman in Mugeto; but because that people would not receive him, he departed and went into the head of an old man at Soyo, where, because a missionary Father was present, they wished to beat him; and so he fled again. He went then to Mbwila, and the same happened. Finally he entered into her head, to preach at Kibangu, and he was received with applause and joy. For this reason, she preached the word of God, teaching the people, urging the journey to the court, and confirming all that the old woman had said.
The matter, she said, had happened in this way: while she lay deathly ill, in the very act of agony there appeared to her a friar dressed as a Capuchin, who said he was St. Anthony, sent by God into her head to preach to the people and hasten the restoration of the kingdom, threatening rigorous punishments to anyone who opposed him. She died, and instead of her soul St. Anthony entered into her head without her knowing how; she felt herself revived, with the impulse to rise up healthy and free, to go and preach. She got up, therefore, and calling her relatives, explained to them the divine command to go preaching, teaching the people, and hastening the journey to the court. To do this with the punctuality that was fitting, she began to give away all the little she possessed, renouncing the things of the world, as the Apostolic Missionaries do. This done, she went up the mountain, and with full liberty fulfilled her duty, as God had commanded her, and did so with no small effect.
Wearied by hearing such frivolities and absurdities, I dismissed the woman, dissembling everything for the time being. I then saw, from the door of the hospice, that in the church square a great crowd of people had gathered to see the outcome of the affair: some of them lamenting that the sheep had been given over to the wolf—that is, that their false St. Anthony had been delivered into my hands, for when they heard me raise my voice against the interpreter who defended her, they thought I was about to make some violent resolution against their poor saint.
That same evening I went to the King, both to respond with courtesy to the good and gracious act he had done me, and to confirm him in my judgment, and to certify to him that the woman was by no means St. Anthony, as that foolish populace believed, but rather a wicked woman, a possessed sorceress deceiving the poor, coarse, and ignorant people. A thing, however, permitted by God, because he and the people had been too stubborn in their own opinion, without wishing to avail themselves of the admonitions, counsels, and exhortations they had so often received from me and from the other missionaries, who with so much toil and kindness had assisted them. But I told him nevertheless to be cheerful, and to fear nothing, for all was remediable with God’s favor, provided he stood firm in the Holy Faith and aided me with his arm in all that was necessary—and other words which the Blessed God permitted me to speak on that occasion.
After the King had listened to everything with attention, he removed the cap from his head and cast it into the bosom of his officer, Mani Banza, and he, kneeling with his counselors before me (which I would not have permitted, had he not constrained me with his Christian devotion), and putting his arms about my breast as if to embrace me, spoke to me in this manner:
“My spiritual Father: I have not believed that a woman, after having lived a bad and restless life, the concubine of two men and a sorceress, should suddenly become a saint without penance for her sins. Nor have I believed what she has said; for how is it possible that the Holy Father, Vicar of Christ on earth, should be false—a deceiver and seducer of the peoples? How is it possible that that same Holy Father should send ministers to seduce the nations and make himself absolute master of the whole world, besides being Father of all? And is it possible that you, my spiritual Father, are deceiving me with my people, and under the name of spiritual Father are my enemy? Is prayer worth nothing, the sacraments all vain, and sacred ceremonies false? Is baptism useless; matrimony in vain; and confession useful only to inform the confessor of secrets? Is it possible that to serve God it is enough to have only the intention, without other outward works? That the Cross, which is the sign of each Christian, must be destroyed? Must the Holy Faith, which with so much love, and without shedding a drop of blood, my ancestors received, be renounced? Oh no, my spiritual Father, I cannot believe it, nor will I permit it in any way. But, alas for me, what a great people I bear upon my shoulders! Poor people! The contradictions are many: surrounded by enemies, many wish me ill, others are in revolt, and others seek to have my head. Alas for me— I know not what to do, pressed on every side.”
“To you, then, I turn, my spiritual Father, that you may pray to God for me and for my people, and commend me to our Father St. Francis, my special Advocate and Protector. You are my friend, my father, my elder, my shield, and all my hope. Teach me, for the love of God; instruct me and defend me in these calamitous circumstances, for I promise you that I will not in the least depart from your counsels and instructions.” These and other such words he spoke to me, being by nature a great talker, and he lamented in this way because, besides the danger to the Faith, he himself believed that the woman’s sanctity was not her own but lent to her by some other person to strike at him in a way that could not otherwise succeed.
I answered him, as before, that he should be cheerful, trust in God’s mercy, and not depart from what I told him, for in the end all would be overcome by that favor. And so, taking him by the arms, I made him rise and sit in his chair.
I rejoiced greatly at these pious signs and demonstrations of the King, and I gave thanks to God. Yet, considering the customs of the blacks, of which, to my cost, I had some experience, and other circumstances, I did not trust greatly. I told him, however, that one of the following days he should come to hear Mass, with the intention that I would publicly confute in the church the falsehoods and diabolical follies of the false St. Anthony, rebuke the faintheartedness and weakness of the Bakongo in our Holy Faith, and also confirm them in it.
The next day the King came to Mass, but because he did not come with that great multitude of people that I desired, my heart was closed, and I had not the courage to speak. On the following days, since I had not declared my intention of making the confutation, fearing that if the woman knew it she might flee, the King sent to tell me that I should see what I wished to do, for the woman wanted to depart. I answered that by no means should he permit it, but that she should at least wait until after Sunday. Nevertheless, foreseeing something and moved by fear, she fled on Saturday.
On Sunday the King did not come to Mass, but only the people. Having no other remedy, I then addressed the people to make the confutation. In doing so, I rebuked the people’s weakness in the Faith, yet I praised and magnified the constancy of the King. I was obliged to act so, for besides his previous demonstrations of such piety, it was very necessary for me to confirm and strengthen him in my judgment in so urgent a matter, and I encouraged him to go to the court for the restoration of the kingdom and the establishment of the Catholic Faith.
Some days after the departure of the false St. Anthony, the King came to Mass, and both he and all his men bore upon their foreheads either a little crucifix or a small cross of metal or wood. I asked the King what this novelty and new demonstration meant. He replied that it was no novelty, for they bore the sign of the Cross on their foreheads because they were Christians and professed in their hearts the Faith of Christ. Others then told me that they bore those crosses on their foreheads because the false St. Anthony wanted to remove the cross that stood in the square; but the King would not allow it, and also because a certain day had passed on which that same false St. Anthony had prophesied that all should be swallowed up with the mountain.
Shortly thereafter, the aforementioned D. Manuel da Cruz Barbosa sent me word that in those parts there had appeared a woman who presented herself as St. Anthony (it was the same one), who among other miracles that she claimed to work, boasted also of having the power to make barren women fruitful, and taught them that they ought to pray to no other saint but her alone. The women who desired to have many children not only prayed to her but also bound to her arms and feet little cords and threads, as the Portuguese would do, as a sign of trust, with the statues of St. Anthony when they sought some grace. D. Manuel therefore sent to ask me what he should do about this woman. I sent him a brief reply, that if he wished to renounce the Christian Faith and Christ Himself, and consequently God Himself, by adoring a demon for God, he had only to subject himself to that woman and believe her diabolical follies.
Hearing my reply, he asked the King for permission to cut off her head. The King answered that for the present he should let her go wherever she wished, that the matter would be spoken of later.
So he let her pass, and she went to Amla to stir up those people with her prophecies and threats of punishments, so that, thus roused, frightened, and deceived, they might deliver to her a certain purse, called the “Most Holy Sacrament,” greatly esteemed by them, which the King of Kongo used to wear hanging from his neck as a royal insignia; and also that they might follow her to the court. This purse is called the “Most Holy Sacrament” because, as an old Bakongo interpreter and good Christian told me, there was inside it a slip of paper on which were written in golden letters these words: “Blessed be the Most Holy Sacrament,” obtained miraculously. Besides this, there are pontifical bulls in which perhaps is contained some privilege granted to the Kings of Kongo. It may also be that the word Most Holy referred to the Pope, to whom the bulls referred, and in another sense, and then with the passage of time, the blacks, ever growing in ignorance, leaving intact the adjective “Most Holy” but changing the substantive “Pope” into “Sacrament,” instead of saying “Most Holy Pope,” say “Most Holy Sacrament.” Be it as it may, of this I cannot give a distinct account, for I have never seen that purse.
The false St. Anthony did not succeed as she wished, for D. João—already acclaimed King of Kongo at Mbwila and afterward gone mad—showed judgment on that occasion; for not only did he not give her what she demanded, but he would not receive her, and indeed had her driven away with threats, so that she fled.
But because in those first dwellings she had gained an entry, she stirred up with her follies certain adherents of the Kibenga, and thus obtained her intent; for, threatening them among other punishments with floods in which they should all be drowned if they obstinately disobeyed her, it happened that a great rain fell, and the river rose beyond its usual limit. Because of this, they yielded, and accompanying her, followed her to São Salvador, where, although the Kibenga gave them some small aid, they nevertheless suffered such hunger for several months that, to sustain themselves, they ate tree flowers and leaves. Little by little, however, they began to sustain themselves by their own labor, the land quickly providing the fruit of their cultivation.
The false St. Anthony, having arrived at São Salvador, made her hut or cabin behind the walls of the former cathedral, where the episcopal palace had once stood. Spreading then the rumor that she had brought with her from Mbwila the aforementioned purse, she sent word to the King that he should prepare to depart on the road and go to the Court. She also sent ambassadors to all the provinces of the kingdom with the title of “little Anthonys,” so that by means of the false preaching of the imagined restoration of Kongo, of miracles, punishments, and other follies—adding that already some, for having disobeyed her orders and invitations, had experienced her severity—they might thus redirect the people to São Salvador.
So it came about, for some went there to venerate the false saint, others to see their homeland renewed, others to greet friends; these in hopes of receiving health miraculously, and those from greed to reign and to be the first to seize the place. In this way São Salvador soon became populated. The false saint was thus made the restorer, ruler, and lady of Kongo, and she was acclaimed, esteemed, and adored by all as such. I, on the other hand, was considered a coward and of vile spirit for not having had the courage to go to São Salvador, summon the people, and restore the kingdom, as their false saint had done. Therefore, besides other mistreatments and mortifications, they contemptuously called me “Bernardello, sacerdotello”—that is, a man of little esteem, of little account, and a priest not worth noticing.
Hearing then from the King that the false St. Anthony had brought from Mbwila the aforesaid purse, he sent some of his intimates to go and inquire and certify themselves of the truth.
Meanwhile, where the King was at Kibangu, there were cries with signs of war and rejoicing; and where the Queen was, they sang the “Salve Antoniana”—that is, the Salve Regina turned into mad, superstitious, heretical, idolatrous, and blasphemous words—to my great annoyance and grief.
Once, among other times, about two in the morning, although because of some distance I could not hear the words distinctly, I began to tremble from head to foot, being unable to bear any longer the din of so many blasphemies. So, resolved to put myself in danger of death, I wanted to go where they sang, wholly disturbed and indignant. But the blacks of the mission who were with me threw themselves to their knees, and holding my legs prevented me, begging me to have patience, to endure, and not to put myself in such danger at night so imprudently and without hope of remedying it on that occasion, but to trust in God, who before long would console me by letting me see the happy end of it.
The King’s intimates went to São Salvador to inquire; and having made every diligence, they saw nothing at all, but had from the false St. Anthony the reply that if the King wished to see the purse, he must come himself in person to the court to see it; otherwise she would not give it, nor send it, nor show it to anyone.
To please the King, D. Manuel da Cruz Barbosa went, so that with his authority he might achieve something and see something. But not only did he see nothing, he was moreover abused by the false saint with improper and disorderly words; and, put to shame, he was forced to flee, for otherwise the relatives and friends of the Kibenga—supporters of the false saint for reasons of state—would have killed him. This was the reason that the wicked woman had such applause and was held for St. Anthony: the claim to reign; and wherever such ambition enters, every mind, however wise, is blinded, as experience has shown so many times.
The false St. Anthony, after this, spread the report that the purse was laid up and guarded by angels in the site of our hospice, in such a way that no one could see it, or know it, or even go into that place, under penalty of losing their life there. D. Manuel, to satisfy those who did not entirely believe all these mad inventions, falsehoods, and deceits, sent some men to make every diligence to enter that very place. They went by night to São Salvador without anyone perceiving it; and having entered the appointed spot, they searched everywhere and found nothing. So, without the people of São Salvador even knowing of it, they returned with nothing in their hands, except only the sign of their going and of the diligence they had made.
Finally, after all these investigations—though superfluous and vain—D. Manuel sent word plainly to the King that everything said concerning the purse was pure falsehood, without any truth at all. That therefore he must in every way descend from Mount Kibangu, and with all haste; for otherwise, without any doubt, he would lose the kingdom, since the false St. Anthony was ever more deceiving and stirring up the people, having turned to the side of Kimpanzu, of whose lineage was the Kibenga, whose brothers and kinsmen were gathered in the Court. The ambassadors, or Antonian missionaries, called “little Anthonys,” had gone everywhere to deceive the people and gather more followers. He therefore must heed nothing else but to descend from the mountain, if he wished to be King.
When the King heard with his own ears that admonition from the mouth of his Mani Lumbu—that is, his majordomo, D. Manuel—he did not mock as he had other times, but in earnest made himself ready to descend. Yet, according to their custom, since it was already the end of December, he let the year finish.
Meanwhile, because the news of the imagined miracles and punishments of the false St. Anthony spread everywhere, and she was said to have inflicted one punishment on this one, another on that one—even to the point of turning them into beasts for not obeying her—seeing that nothing I did, neither gentle nor severe, availed, having no other remedy, I began to treat the matter as a jest. I complained, therefore, to those blacks that their saint, who had threatened to make me fly to pieces through the air, had already begun to make me experience her rigorous wrath. Then I advised them ironically also, that they should obey her in all things and in everything, so that the same or worse should not befall them. Continuing in the same manner, when I saw the King or other lords, I saluted them with a reply I made to an exclamatory question which the sectarians used in praise of their saint, concerning the disordered restoration of Kongo; and they would say: “If she were not St. Anthony, what were we to do?” To one who asked me for confession, I answered that he should go ask leave of St. Anthony, because I did not want to confess against her will and thereby draw upon myself some new punishment; and I made other such jests.
The King and others excused themselves, saying that they did not recognize such a saint nor believed her to be such; they knew well enough that she was a wicked woman; and they declared that they were Catholics. But I, to irritate them further against her, mocked them all the more, replying that I could not yet give judgment whether they were Catholics or not, until I should see the final outcome; and when that was seen, then I would definitively say what they were—but for the present I could not say it with certain truth.
At the beginning of the year 1705 I went to minister in the Duchy of Sundi in January, partly because I was wearied of the tumults of the false St. Anthony and to show that I made no account of her, and partly to aid those poor souls. It is true, however, that the King had made me understand that he wished to communicate to me a matter of great importance, which was his descent from the mountain; though for various reasons he had not declared it fully. But believing that he was mocking me as he had done other times, I departed against his will.
This resolution of mine was not in vain; for having arrived at Sundi, within a few days there also arrived the “little Anthony” sent by the false St. Anthony; but because I was there, he was not received. Indeed, the Duke of Sundi did not even wish to see his Captain-General, who had brought him the news, unless I should first receive him. I received him with a good reproof, and then the Duke received him also, and he, with his interpreter and secretary D. Miguel Laines de Paqua, and other good Christians, gave thanks to the Lord that I had been found there on that occasion. For they said that, although they knew the things of the false St. Anthony at São Salvador to be sheer falsehoods, diabolical follies, and deceptions, nonetheless they could not have restrained the current of the people if I had not been there. They said this truly, for the Duchy of Sundi was almost entirely inclined toward the side of the Kibenga—if not from adherence, at least because of descent from the house of Kimpanzu. And indeed, wherever the little Anthony had passed, the people had already begun to waver; as afterward I experienced to my cost.
While I was ministering in Sundi, the King sent me a courier begging me to return quickly, because he had already descended from Mount Kibangu and was in the field. I replied that I rejoiced in his descent, and that gladly I would return as soon as possible. I wished, however, to celebrate Easter at Sundi, and then, to give time its course, I went to minister in the Duchy of Mbata: both to help those souls, and to see what was happening, since in the Marquisate of Pango I was not received, and indeed was forced to flee by night. When I had finished—or rather given over as finished—the mission where one duke resided, I went in peace to where the other was. (There were then two dukes, or claimants of that duchy: one, a young man, died in his bed about a month later, after having been married; the other, aged about fifty years, who would not marry, was killed by treachery when he went to take possession of the place where the other had died. When these two were dead, three or four more sprang up, one against the other. The cause of all these troubles was the absence of the King in São Salvador.) While I was with the second duke, the King sent me another messenger, begging me as before that I return quickly, because he would not move without me. I returned in August, and found that the Kibenga, with his brothers and kinsmen, in order not to obey, had openly declared themselves rebels.
The King descended from Kibangu on the 24th of February, 1705. But before setting out on the road, he visited the church, praying to God and commending himself to the Madonna, to Father St. Francis, and to St. Anthony, that they might defend and protect him in so arduous an enterprise. There he declared that he was not leaving Kibangu in obedience to the false St. Anthony, whom (he said) he did not acknowledge as a good woman, but that he was descending solely to restore the kingdom, to rebuild the ruined churches, and to reestablish the Faith of Jesus Christ. Trusting, however, in divine favor and in the protection of the Madonna, of St. Francis, and of St. Anthony—his chief advocates—he finally took the crucifix from the altar to carry it with him. Having made these pious and public demonstrations, caring nothing for the rain, he set out, and after a good day’s march, arrived at a place fortified by water and trees, called Mulumbi, from which his vassals (spoken of at the beginning) had departed, and there he pitched his tents, waiting for more than a year for the obedience of the Kibenga and his brothers; but none of them appeared.
While the King labored to bring the Kibenga into obedience, I, who kept the hospice between the one and the other, was held in suspicion and jealousy: and so both sides caressed me with fair words and with some small gifts of the land. The Kibenga, under the guise of friendship and piety, pressed me to go to São Salvador to aid those souls by administering the sacraments, especially Baptism, and other exercises of devotion.
I indeed felt great compassion for those poor souls. But, putting aside the prohibition of my superiors, who forbade me to expose myself to danger or entanglements with the blacks, it was in no way fitting that I go there, for many reasons. First, because the King might do harm to the hospice, though that mattered little. Second, because in going to São Salvador I would have to oppose their false St. Anthony with all my strength, and at an ill-timed moment; whence there might arise some tragedy between me, the false saint, and her followers, which could end only in uproar and total confusion of that poor kingdom. Third, because they might make another king; and nothing was lacking in São Salvador for that, save only myself, since all the other ministers necessary for such a function were already there. And though I would sooner have let them cut off my head than consent to a business so pernicious to justice and to the common peace, with immense prejudice also to the Catholic Faith, nonetheless they could have accomplished it by deceitful stratagems without my realizing it until it was done.
The King also, seeing that I dealt with the Kibenga, his enemy, besides gifts of little moment from the land, would send me palm wine covered with crowns of palm leaves—an honor there shown to no one. I showed that I appreciated the wine, but not the crown, and I begged him not to send it to me any more, being content with the honor of the wine alone. But as he continued to send it, magnifying the honor he pretended to do me, I once replied that it was no great honor to send me a gift of wine covered with crowns of leaves or grass, I who hoped by divine favor and the clemency of the Holy Father the Pope that he might receive—and that another Capuchin like me might set upon his head—a crown of gold, with the scepter in his hand.
I speak of gifts and honors, though of little account, honors of straw; but I say nothing of the afflictions and other troubles. Suffice it to say in a word that I was between the anvil and the hammer; and if now I was the father, the first counselor, and the intimate friend of the King, soon after the evil tongues—of which the whole world is full—were telling him that I acted, spoke, and dealt with the Kibenga, turning to his side.
It is true that I dealt with the Kibenga; but this I was obliged to do for many reasons: first, because by not dealing with him I would have declared myself his enemy, which, besides being cause of scandal and wonder, might have done me great harm, the more so since he stood with the false St. Anthony. Second, I was bound to remain indifferent, as a father; and, not having been able to reconcile them together, I should not turn against one and defend the other, but rather pretend not to know the chief reasons of their claims and enmities, and thus leave each in his own state, since I could do nothing else.
Nor was this correspondence that I held with the Kibenga secret. On the contrary, I had often declared to the King, both in private and in public, that I was bound to hold it to fulfill my office as apostolic missionary and Angel of peace; being spiritual father of both, I must embrace them as my spiritual sons. Nor had I any commission to involve myself further in their disputes and claims. Nor had the Pope sent me into Kongo for the Kimpanzu alone (which was the Kibenga’s party), nor for the Kimulaza alone (which was the King’s party), but for all the Congolese alike, and without any absolute charge of making peace between the claimants to the throne. I assured him, however, that since he had been found to be acclaimed King of Kongo, as far as depended on me, even to death, he and no other must be King; and even if the rebels made another, he and not the other I would recognize as King.
The poor King was greatly satisfied with these and like reasons of mine; but then came the sowers of discord, who everywhere strove to sow it—even those from whom I hoped good wheat would be sown. He, however, never openly complained of me, whether in private or in public; the more so since, though he ate the bread of discord and so suspected, he did not wholly believe it, knowing well that when I wrote to the Kibenga, I urged him against the false saint and exhorted him to obedience to his King. I must say in conclusion, that the Blessed God, who permitted that I should remain there alone, abandoned even by my superiors, and deprived of all human help for the space of nearly nine years—years of calamity—He Himself protected and defended me in every occasion.
After the year 1705 had passed, seeing that there was no way to bring the Kibenga and his brothers into obedience, but rather that they grew more obstinate, the King resolved to advance further and draw somewhat nearer to São Salvador. Thus in the year 1706, on Maundy Thursday he departed from Mulumbi, and on Holy Saturday pitched his tents upon the hill of Evululu, a day’s march from São Salvador. There he remained three years, striving to bring them to obedience, assuring them of pardon, and protesting that in no way did he wish to make war, since through continual wars their kingdom was already destroyed, and the Faith destroyed with it. Nor did the Bakongo want any more turmoil, already too much wearied of living like beasts in the fields and forests: their relatives, wives, and children everywhere insulted, murdered, plundered, sold, and slaughtered. He begged that they not let themselves be deceived by the false St. Anthony, but repent, and come to ask his blessing by rendering the obedience that was due; which gladly and with all his heart he would have given.
The Kibenga, on the contrary, hardened more and more with his men, and indeed by his men, not only refused obedience but mocked insolently, deriding and reviling the King, urging him to wrath and to war.
Meanwhile the false St. Anthony did not cease to deceive those who remained at São Salvador. Her absurdities and follies are unworthy of being repeated. I have related them, indeed, to my own shame, and I relate them still, in order to be faithful to my promise and truthful in my account, though brief; and also that with the eye of compassion those whose office it is to see may perceive the deplorable misery of those poor people, deprived of judgment and reason, without doctrine and without other spiritual helps—this through their miserable follies, and through the great scarcity and want of apostolic missionaries and other spiritual ministers. Poor children of the Roman Church, given up and abused, starved with hunger and thirst for the spirit.
The false St. Anthony was a black woman of Kongo, called Kimpa Vita, and in baptism Beatriz. She—so she said in her private abjuration made at the unhappy end of her life (though it be not credible)—when a girl, often had two white children appear to her, who with glass rosaries in their hands played with her. Afterwards she became concubine, or wife by contract, of two men (I think successively), with whom she could not live quietly, being proud. She was also a nganga marinda, that is, a priestess or doctress of a certain superstition or witchcraft called marinda, or rather a demon called by that name.
Then, when the King would not deliver to me the old woman above mentioned, named Apollonia, and in the local tongue Maffuta, she, either of herself or stirred by some other person, pretended to be St. Anthony in the manner already said. And because perhaps she had heard some sermon of St. Anthony in Portuguese, which had come into the hands of some insignificant black man who could read a little, in order to make her way and be believed, she began to praise him with many superstitious extravagances, comparing him with St. Alexis, who left his wife to serve God, but always giving to St. Anthony the primacy in virtue and fortune in his dealings with his companion St. Alexis. The absurdities she spoke about these two saints I do not know, for those who recounted them to me could not explain them well, nor did they themselves understand them, and they were ashamed and afraid to speak.
At the same time, she began to speak against me, and confirming all that the old woman had said, encouraged the blacks to be cheerful, since they too had saints, as we have, and we did not want them to have theirs. She spoke against the Supreme Pontiff, against the sacraments of the Church, and was no friend of the Cross, as I have said, nor would she allow any saint to be prayed to but herself alone.
She showed herself, moreover, as an enemy of vices, superstitions, witchcrafts, and the like, which she burned all together with the crosses. These demonstrations against vice and witchcraft served as an argument by which the blacks argued that she must be a saint.
She also turned the Salve Regina into such absurdities that I know not whether to call them diabolical follies or execrable blasphemies. I will recount a few words, though unworthy, disordered, and incoherent:
“Salve you say, and know not why. Salve you recite, and know not why. Salve you beat, and know not why. God wants intention, intention God takes. Marriage avails nothing, intention God takes. Baptism avails nothing, intention God takes. Confession avails nothing, intention God takes. Prayer avails nothing, intention God wills. Good works avail nothing, intention God wills. The Mother and the Son on the tip of the knee. If it were not St. Anthony, what were we to do? St. Anthony is the merciful one, St. Anthony is our remedy, St. Anthony is the restorer of the kingdom of Kongo, St. Anthony is the comforter of the kingdom of heaven. St. Anthony is himself the gate of heaven. St. Anthony holds the keys of heaven. St. Anthony is above the angels and the Virgin Mary. St. Anthony is himself the second God ...”
—and many other absurdities which I do not know.
The blacks told me, however, that it was very long and never ended, for she went on ever multiplying it, now saying one folly, now another.
It was, however, a marvel to see with what ease the blacks, great and small, men and women, learned it; and in the same tune in which the diabolical saint sang it, they went singing it through the streets, the fields, and everywhere.
She also altered the Ave Maria, but as I do not remember the words, I say nothing of it.
Her zeal for the King’s descent and for his going to Kongo; her false prophecies, her extravagant threats, the “little Anthonys” dispatched everywhere, and other things have already been mentioned. I will relate some of the follies which she committed and taught at São Salvador, where with wide and unbridled liberty, and full impunity, she went on uttering extravagances without any restraint.
There she said that until then there was no King of Kongo; but that when all the claimants should be united in the church, the one upon whose head at the door an Angel should place the crown come down from heaven—that one should be King of Kongo. For this reason, those of the house of Kimpanzu and the Kibenga strove to honor her; and she finally declared herself on their side, turning her followers also to their favor.
She said that Jesus Christ was born in São Salvador, which was Bethlehem; that He was baptized at Sundi, which was Nazareth; and that Jesus Christ with the Madonna, as also St. Francis, had their origin in Kongo, of the stock of the blacks. (I write this more clearly, though with horror in the very pen.) St. Francis, she said, was born of the lineage of the Marquis of Vunda; and the Madonna, Mother of Jesus Christ, had her origin from a slave or servant of the Marchioness Nzimba Npangi.
She taught that white men had their origin from a certain soft white stone called fuma—and for that reason they are white. The blacks, she said, had theirs from a tree called musanda, from the bark of which they make cords and cloths for covering and clothing, and for that reason they are black, of the color of that bark.
From this arose her invention of certain things which she called crowns, made of the bark of that same tree musanda. Those who wore these crowns on their heads were the most notable of her friends, intimates, or supporters, and the most influential: such as the Kibenga, who had the greatest of all, his brothers, and other principal men. The women did not wear them, except herself. She had these crowns worn on the head, both as a sign of being “Antonians,” and so that by this sign, livery, or banner they might hope to gain victory against the King, invoking the pity of their false St. Anthony, and establish themselves in the kingdom; and also because without any study or labor they should become learned, one destined to be a priest, another a friar, another a bishop. Of these crowns I will make a sketch at the end of the present relation.
She also wished to begin making nuns, but because her companions, ministers, “little Anthonys,” and guardian angels went about with the girls she had begun to gather, they told their mothers, and thus the affair was broken off.
She prophesied that the stumps left in the ground at São Salvador, from which trees had been cut to repopulate the city, would be transformed into gold and silver; that beneath the stones there were also mines of gold, silver, and precious stones, and that other riches lay hidden there, such as cloths of many kinds, silks, and other fine things of the whites.
To make them believe this, she secretly had money buried—that is, certain little sea shells—in various places of the ruined cathedral; and then, publicly designating the hiding places, had the said shells dug up, so that they might see she spoke the truth.
When she went to the church, either to preach or to perform other so-called spiritual exercises, singing the Salve Antoniana, she mounted the altar step; then she went out in procession from the sacristy door, and, having arrived before her hut, she would draw near to a little tree that stood there, and all kissed her feet.
When she ate, those lords held out the hems of their capes for her in place of napkins or tablecloths; and blessed was he who could eat some morsel given by her hand, or put in his mouth some fragment that fell. When she drank, they offered their hands beneath the cup; and if by art or accident a drop of water or palm wine fell, they drank it as a devotion. The roads that led to her hut, up to the very door, were swept by the principal women, such as the wife of the Kibenga and other ladies of rank.
The poor Bakongo, born, bred, and aged among straw, forests, and wildernesses, rougher than roughness itself, and more ignorant than ignorance itself—to the point that, when in São Salvador they saw those ruined churches, many could not decide whether they had been built by human work or had come down from heaven—seeing saints of their own nation, and not knowing what a saint was, at once received them and subjected themselves to their teaching.
Nor did the false St. Anthony at the beginning speak so openly as not to cover her lies with some veil, at least a thin one, sufficient to obscure the sight of those poor wretches, who, having heard at times in passing the Christian truths, but not understood them, believed afterward that the dreams, chimeras, and diabolical follies of their saint were simple truths, even though they did not understand what was said. Indeed, the greater harm was not to understand; for, thinking that she spoke lofty things, transcending their short capacity, they remained astonished at her doctrines, threats, and prophecies.
Others said: “The missionary Fathers preach the Gospel and teach us many things of the Faith; but this is not much, for they study and then preach only what they have learned. But that a simple and ignorant woman, without any study and without ever having come to learn in the church, should preach and say things that cannot even be understood, save in part—this is marvelous! Truly it is St. Anthony come down from heaven!” Thus reasoned, among others, those ignorant masters, or interpreters, whom the people esteemed as their doctors.
To the roughness and ignorance of the blacks, to their love of their own nation, to the desire of seeing their ruined homeland restored, to their ambition of reigning, to my being alone among them all, and to the diabolical follies of the false St. Anthony and others, as also to the authority of the interpreters—who were not much my friends, because I had taken from them their profit by not needing their services—was added the readiness of those peoples toward superstition through lack of doctrine; and he who is given ever so little to superstition easily believes everything, as one sometimes sees even among prudent whites, and much more among foolish women, as I know by experience, whereby I can well prove it.
I beg, therefore, the piety of those into whose hands these pages may come, that they not be scandalized at that poor people of Kongo, much well-disposed and inclined toward our Holy Faith, but rather be moved to compassion for their miseries; the more so, that, as shall be said, they showed in the end themselves to be true Catholics, though ignorant.
The dreamed-of felicity of the Antonians, and the sanctity of the false St. Anthony, did not last long; for, before two whole years had passed, she struck upon the rocks of misfortune, and at once was undone. The final collapse was this: the false St. Anthony had the custom every Friday of dying, as she said, to go to heaven to dine with God and to plead the cause of her black followers—especially the firmness of the restoration of Kongo—and then on Saturday she rose again. But she fell into an irremediable misfortune, which was this.
I said already at the beginning that, to perform her office well, she gave away those trifles she had, in imitation of the missionaries. Now I must say that, in imitation of those same missionaries, she wished to observe chastity, and to be held as chaste. But because she had a companion whom she called her Guardian Angel, twice she miscarried by force. Not being able to miscarry the third time, in order to find some remedy and cover her fault, since she could not undo it, she began to preach that she wished to go to heaven; but with this, that she would not return from there so soon as was her custom: rather, to plead their cause with God and to manage their affairs well, it was necessary for her to remain there a long time.
Having therefore exhorted her followers strongly to patience in tribulations, to courage, and to unconquered constancy in her faith even unto death—she, instead of ascending to heaven, went secretly down from the mount of São Salvador to hide elsewhere; she went among straw and hay to give birth, and bore a male child. And behold, of this occasion Divine Providence made use to provide the final remedy for the whole.
In the year 1706, the Duke of Bamba and the old Queen of Kongo sent ambassadors to the King. As they passed by the foot of Mount Kibangu at the beginning of May, they heard the cry of a child; and because the tall, thick straw and grasses rustled, lest those carrying the child should hide themselves, they sent forward a scout to detain them with words until their arrival. When the ambassadors came up, they found the false St. Anthony nursing the child, with a man and a young black woman who served the false saint.
They asked the man, calling him by his nickname, Barro, why he had left São Salvador, since they had heard he was there as the Guardian Angel of St. Anthony: where was he going now, and who was the woman with the child in her arms. The man replied that it was true he was the Guardian Angel of St. Anthony, but that just then he was going elsewhere, and that the woman with him was herself St. Anthony.
“St. Anthony?” the ambassadors exclaimed. “St. Anthony among straw and hay? St. Anthony with a child in her arms, nursing him to quiet his cries? Tell us truly, whose child is this?”
“It is St. Anthony’s,” replied the Guardian Angel.
“St. Anthony’s?” the ambassadors repeated. “But if she is St. Anthony, how can she have children? Since when has St. Anthony, a religious of St. Francis, begotten children? Tell us then—is it perhaps with you that she made this child?”
“No,” he answered.
“But how is this, then?” they asked.
“Ah, ah,” replied the Guardian Angel, “these are divine secrets, which cannot and must not be scrutinized.”
“O wretch that you are!” the ambassadors concluded. “O wretch that you are! Are these the divine secrets that must not and cannot be scrutinized? Ho there!”—and with swords drawn they ordered their servants, “Seize them both at once, and we shall see whether they are saints, and whether their wickedness is indeed inscrutable secrets of God.” Thus, well bound, they led them to the King at Evululu.
When I heard that the false St. Anthony had been taken, together with her Guardian Angel, into the power of the King, I rejoiced greatly, giving thanks to God. And because I had already determined the end that must befall her, I sent to advise that they should not let her die of hunger but keep them both under good guard until the final resolution. Meanwhile I continued as was my custom, saying that I would not declare whether the King and his men were Catholics or heretics until I had seen the proof in the final outcome.
Then, at the end of May, to my great consolation, Father Lorenzo da Lucca and Father Giovanni Paolo da Tivoli arrived at the hospice where I stayed, in order that I might help them to go and rebuild the hospice, one at Nkusu and the other at Mukondo, by order of the Prefect. Yet those hospices, as I had already told the Fathers beforehand and written to the Prefect himself, did not endure. To treat them with love and charity during the short time they had to rest and to wait for a favorable occasion for the desired relief, I wished to go out for a little to procure some food, since I had no provisions at all in the house, contenting myself, as I was alone, to live from day to day. My love toward those Fathers, and the joy I felt in seeing them, was very great, the more so since many years had passed since I had seen any Capuchins.
Taking advantage of that occasion, I went to where D. Manuel da Cruz Barbosa was, to treat with him about the business of the prisoners; for, after the King, he had the power to condemn to death or to release. Speaking of the matter, he told me that the King had determined to send the false St. Anthony to the Bishop of Angola in Luanda.
This decision of the King pleased me not at all, for many reasons. First, because it would be with great difficulty that the false St. Anthony could be brought to Luanda; for the Antonians, who had spies everywhere—even in the King’s own house—could easily cut the road and seize again, with impunity, their saint, murdering those who transported her.
But even if she arrived in Luanda—where too there are many impunities concerning the poor Faith—either the Most Reverend Bishop would have to keep her in Luanda, or he would have to send her back to Kongo, or exile her elsewhere. If he sent her into exile elsewhere, this would effectively verify what she preached to the Bakongo: namely, that we whites are envious, and do not want them to have saints as we have; and thus the Bishop would have sent away their esteemed St. Anthony, not as exiled from her homeland in punishment for her follies, but as honorably dispatched to Portugal as a saint.
If he kept her in Luanda, she could easily flee back to her country. If finally, though corrected, he sent her back to Kongo, this would be the last error, worse than the first; for it would prove and confirm her sanctity, since she had gone into the presence of the Bishop and then returned glorious into Kongo, approved as a saint and held as such by His Lordship, with many other lies. And nothing would be said of the correction received—for I know what I say. Her followers would thus be confirmed and multiplied yet more.
Nor is it enough to say that the discord sown by the false St. Anthony could not last long, nor endure, because her follies and diabolical falsehoods were too manifest. For to this, besides what I have already said above, I add that the peoples among whom she was found were proportioned in the capacity of their understanding and judgment to that of their teacher. Since therefore they were rude and ignorant, not only of themselves, but also through the scarcity and want of ministers, and through their other deplorable miseries, they were not so firm and steadfast in the Faith that the extravagant doctrines of the false St. Anthony could not strike home—as in fact by experience it was seen that they did.
Nor in those parts—climes and regions of southern Africa and lower Ethiopia—were the subtleties of Calvin, Luther, Arius, Jansen, and the secret obscenities of Michael Molinos, with all the infamous current of modern and ancient heresiarchs, needed to rend the seamless robe of the Church of God, the Bride of Christ.
And yet these men taught and still teach doctrines, doing things which I know not how they could have been embraced, not by the ignorant, but by the learned as well; not by the imprudent, coarse, and inexperienced, but by prudent, noble, and wise men. Doctrines truly—or rather, obscenities—unworthy not only of being believed, embraced, and put into practice, but unworthy even of being heard and named, much less written.
I say nothing of those great men who, for judgment, prudence, and valor, once dominated the whole world. And yet they adored as deities the trunks of the forests, the stones, gold, and silver—not to mention other things more vile! What then shall we say of the blacks of Kongo, who, besides ignorance, imprudence, and coarseness, are conceived, born, bred, and die amidst superstitions, for want of any to help them?
Beyond this: seeing in that poor kingdom impunity dominate in matters of faith, as I have related, and indeed as it rules there in other ways too, with immense and truly deplorable prejudice, there would be opened wide a great door for continually making such follies without fear, to whomever might wish it, without ever establishing the Catholic Faith there, but rather with its total destruction.
I prove this by experience. The young dreamer was left unpunished, and then appeared the unknown woman of the camp. The unknown woman of the camp left unpunished, then came the old woman. The old woman unpunished, there sprang forth the young woman who called herself St. Anthony, of whom we speak. While she was left unpunished and lived with total liberty, her concubine called himself the Guardian Angel, and, not content with this, also called himself St. John—for John was his baptismal name. Then came the “little Anthonys,” who, wandering through the provinces, perhaps did more harm with their false and lying reports than the false St. Anthony herself. By these I was put in danger, among other places, at Sundi. Father Giovanni Maria da Barletta was in danger at Mpumbu. At Muheto there appeared a St. Apollonia, through whom Father Gabriele da Bologna was nearly burned alive. Father Lorenzo da Lucca was in danger also, with Father Giovanni Paolo da Tivoli, when they were seized at São Salvador, as I shall say below. And other such diabolical saints began to appear with excessive disorders. If no remedy were applied, without doubt in those parts the Catholic Faith would have been utterly destroyed.
Nor would it have been of any use for the Sacred Congregation of Propaganda, nor for the Supreme Pontiff, to take the trouble in the future to send missionaries to expose their lives for any other purpose, unless it were only to win the palm of martyrdom and be crowned with their own blood.
Therefore, having placed all these considerations in my poor mind, and since there was no Holy Office there, nor anyone with authority, proper or delegated, to remedy so great a flood of present and imminent evils, I judged it well, that this unbridled and pernicious liberty might be mortified, so that in the future men might live in Kongo with some caution and fear, miserable and ignorant as they are, to have recourse to epikeia. Setting aside every fear and danger, even of death and of being torn in pieces—as had been sworn to me, but not carried out—zeal for the honor of God, for the faith of Christ, and for the Roman Church being my only standard, I declared to D. Manuel my recourse.
He, who in all else had always shown himself opposed to the false St. Anthony, and in whom I could trust and place myself, after having heard secretly this my resolution, promised to be on my side, assuring me that in every way all should be done that I desired.
So I took the road and went preaching until I came to where the King was. Arrived there, and received with extraordinary signs of joy and benevolence, in spite of the Antonians, the King had brought before him the false St. Anthony, and, as if to excuse himself, asked her whether it had been he who had invented and insinuated her sanctity; whether he had seen her again or spoken with her, after having sent her to me with his counselors, when we were on Mount Kibangu; whether finally he had sent her to Mbwila to fetch the purse, or had dealt with her in any business. She answered by denying all these propositions. She said indeed that the virtue with which she had acted and brought it about that São Salvador was repopulated anew, had been given her by God; she lost it afterward through her sins, which had reduced her to that state.
The King wished also to question the old woman, who was also a prisoner; but since she had declined and was held for insane, she was not made to speak.
I then stayed on, under pretext of preaching, to keep the feast of St. Peter, which was near, and waited for D. Manuel to see the final conclusion and the intended end. After a few days, D. Manuel arrived and joined with the rest of the royal council in the King’s presence; without my meddling further in anything, as though I had had no part in it. They talked among themselves and sentenced the false St. Anthony to death by fire, along with her Guardian Angel and the old woman, who afterward was spared, together with the child.
On the day after the feast of St. Peter, since Father Lorenzo da Lucca and Father Giovanni Paolo da Tivoli, unaccustomed to the troubles and wars of Kongo, wished to depart for fear of some mishap, I was forced to return to the hospice and beg them to have patience and await the proper time. I also persuaded Father Lorenzo that, since he had not yet seen the King, who had sent to receive them with gifts, he should come with me to visit him, Father Giovanni Paolo being ill with pains; and also, that he might be present at the death of the condemned, to assist them. Having agreed upon all, Father Lorenzo came with me; and when he saw the King for the first time, they embraced with lively and affectionate expressions of love.
On the evening of Saturday, the King ordered a proclamation to be made that every man should bring a piece of wood for each of the condemned into the square on the following Sunday. On that day, the false St. Anthony confessed and abjured privately, and the same did her Guardian Angel. I persuaded them to abjure publicly, and they were willing to do so of their own accord; but the King, who was already indignant and bore a terrible countenance, would not permit it, saying that it was well known to all that everything she had said and taught was nothing but follies and diabolical falsehoods.
Then, on Sunday, the first of July, 1706, the people being assembled and the condemned led into the square among the crowd, the Judge appeared, who in public declared against them the sentence of being thrown alive into the flames. He also explained the atrocity of their crimes against the crown and the faith, for which such fearful rigor was shown. Meanwhile Father Lucca and I stood ready, that when the Judge’s speech was ended, we might assist the souls of those poor wretches, who were soon to expire. But it was not possible in any way; for as soon as the Judge finished his discourse and departed, the officers and the mob rushed upon them like so many mastiffs, and dragging them along the ground, I know not how—amid the dust, the pain, the press of people, and the din of cries—they did not kill them before reaching the place of execution. Arriving there, more dead than alive, well bound, they were cast upon two piles of wood not far from each other, and fire was set to them. Shortly thereafter, in the space of one credo, they yielded up their souls: one with the name of Jesus upon his lips, the other with that of the Virgin Mary, so I was told, and in a short while they were reduced to ashes.
The poor false St. Anthony, who was accustomed to die and rise again, this time died but rose no more. And yet her followers were so insolent as to spread the tale that the places where their saints had been burned were turned into two deep wells, in each of which appeared a most beautiful star: the one being the soul of the false St. Anthony, the other that of her Guardian Angel. By night they went to gather some fragment of bone that remained, to keep it as a relic. They even said that it was the form of St. Anthony that had died, but not St. Anthony himself (I truly do not know what they meant by this). From this one may judge what might have followed had she not died, but had been preserved alive in Kongo or elsewhere, even with some correction.
On the morning of the following Monday, the King, who had not slept during the night—partly from the joy of having shown such a memorable sign in defense of our Holy Faith, and partly from vigilance against the Antonian enemies—came all cheerful and spirited, dressed in their soldierly fashion, with bow and arrow in hand. He wished to hear Mass from Father Lucca, without the other accustomed ceremonies, and then mine also. When it was finished, I gave him a little sermon, encouraging him in the enterprise of the kingdom and in the progress of the Catholic Faith, with the destruction of all heresy, superstition, and idolatry. Taking leave of him thereafter, we returned to the hospice.
But since Fathers Lucca and Tivoli returned to their former resolve of wishing to depart, despite all I said and begged of them; and though the carriers also excused themselves that they could not set out so soon, nor without any provision for so long a journey; yet on the Friday following they would depart at all costs. And behold, on the Saturday immediately after, they were assaulted on the road by Antonians. These believed that the Fathers were taking the child to Luanda, to bring him up perhaps honorably as the son of saints; and so they began to rage, not only against the Fathers, but also against the carriers, who fled in fear, leaving only the simplest and youngest.
The assailants, who as a sign of mourning had all their faces smeared, weeping for their saints and singing the Salve Antoniana, fell upon the Fathers and led them off toward where a relative of the Kibenga was. Arriving there in the evening, their threats of iron and fire in vengeance for their burned saints increasing, they did not, however, touch the Fathers. They contented themselves with robbing them of everything they had, even their cloaks, and selling those blacks who had not fled, leaving only one or so with each Father.
A few days later they were brought to São Salvador by order of the Kibenga, who, however, treated them well, giving them guards to accompany them whenever they went out to see those ruined churches. On one occasion, had it not been for those guards, given the little practice and experience the Fathers had of those peoples, whose wound from the death of their saints was still fresh, they would have suffered some mischance. I know not what word Father Lucca said—perhaps he wished to reprove with some sharpness their blindness—when suddenly the son of D. Manuel da Nóbrega, of the royal house of Kimpanzu, part of the Kibenga faction and rival of the Duke of Bamba in the duchy, raised his sword to strike him on the head; from which he was defended by the guards.
Afterward I dealt with the Kibenga, whom I always managed to keep friendly on occasion, and I had the Fathers returned to the hospice; with God’s favor, they came back safe and free from all danger, on the evening, perhaps, of the 10th of August. They later departed in due time on their journey.
Now, if while the false St. Anthony lived there had been no lack of alarms of war, much more did they increase after her death. Many times the blacks would spend nights in the forests or at the heads of the roads, so that when the Antonian enemies appeared, by their warning there might be time to flee. Once, among others, there came to the hospice a false spy, warning us that that night we should keep watch, for one of the Kibenga’s brothers was on the road to come and assault us by night. Thus, present also Father Lorenzo, and the spy—whom I suspected to have been sent by the King, or by his men, to test my spirit—going forth with crucifix in hand, I declared my readiness to suffer all from wherever it might come, even death itself, for love of truth, of justice, and of the Faith of Christ.
In the year 1707, Father Colombano of Bologna, Prefect of those missions, set out for Kongo; yet he did not wish to come to the hospice where I was, so as not to entangle himself in the troubles of the blacks. I, being hard pressed on every side, did so much that I induced him to come. Having spent only a very few days there, he went on to the King for fifteen to twenty days. He then returned to the hospice on the Tuesday evening after Easter, and sent me to São Salvador, which was one of the chief ends for which I had desired him to come to the place where I was.
On Low Sunday I set out on the road toward São Salvador, and entering among the Antonians I found that they still invoked with devotion their erstwhile saint; and when they swore, they said Ne sari—that is, “by the merciful St. Anthony”—and sang also the Salve Antoniana. At length arriving at São Salvador, I strove with all my might to make the Antonians recognize the miserable blindness in which they were submerged. They stood obstinate and defended themselves as best they could; some called me a sorcerer, others a wizard, or at least a spy and guide of the King’s army. At length, after eight days had passed, being convinced and persuaded, they publicly abjured their false saint, casting at my feet the musanda crowns; and then I publicly absolved them of the excommunications.
But, truth be told, the Kibenga, besides receiving me with signs of affection, helped me greatly in the business; and showing himself ashamed and repentant of his error, not only gave me his own crown to trample underfoot, but further, being unable to stand upright because of his infirmity, had himself carried by blacks into the nearby square, and, supported on their arms, awaited that, after the sermon, I should absolve him with the others.
A certain D. Daniele, son of a former King likewise named D. Daniele, after having given me his crown to trample, took it again into his hand and spoke thus: “Listen! You all know that, being immersed in blindness and following the deceits of the false St. Anthony, I loved her, held her in devotion, and defended her. You know that I was one of her most faithful officers. You finally know that I was the first to wear the crown and called myself fortunate. Now I show you that, the darkness of my blindness being dispelled by the coming of the priest of God, our spiritual father, I am the first to abjure, and the first to give him the crown. Behold, see if it is mine!” And he cast it down for me to trample and burn with the others.
The Interpreters likewise cried aloud, beseeching the people that, as they had followed them in blindness by submitting themselves to the diabolical follies of the false St. Anthony, so they should now follow them in repentance with a true abjuration.
When at last all was finished, to divert myself a little I went to see the ruins of the churches, and I also wished to see the house or hut of the false St. Anthony. This hut was divided into three little rooms, but only two appeared with doors, one here and one there; the third, in the middle, was not visible, nor was it known, for it had no door at all. Perceiving that outwardly the hut was larger than what the two little rooms within seemed to require, I widened with my hands the straw of the middle wall, and found there to be the third little room, which, by trickery, had no entrance. Into this middle room, opening and then re-arranging the straw again, the false saint entered whenever she pretended to ascend into heaven. In one of the other two little rooms, I found pieces of candles, an image of the Madonna on paper with many palm-fiber cords, and a little place shaped like a hut, where she slept on the ground to feign penance. I did not burn the said hut, so that all might see it and know more clearly the falsity of their saint. And indeed they remained astonished at such deceptions and at their own blindness. After another eight days, having administered baptisms and celebrated one or two marriages and heard confessions, I returned with joy to the hospice, and the Prefect set out on his road to return to Luanda.
That same year, in the month of October, the Queen who dwelt at the foot of Mount Evululu, where the King had pitched his camp, fled secretly by night and went over to the Kibenga in São Salvador.
The year 1708 passed amid continual rumors and tumults, with raids and plunder between the one party and the other; yet the rebels lost much more. That year the Kibenga sent war by treachery to the Rock of Nsundu, but the treachery recoiled upon himself, and he lost the battle, with which he had sought to make himself master of that fortress, so as to escape, in time of need, from the King’s hand. In that same year, his partisans of Soyo killed their Count, or Prince; and they set up another, a rustic, who died before the year was out. Now there is another, and they say he is a good Christian. He was once an interpreter; and this one too gave signs of obedience to the King. In that year also died the Old Queen of Congo, who was more than a hundred years old.
Finally, in the year 1709, the King, no longer able to endure the insolent obstinacy and the continual insults which the Kibenga with his rebel followers cast upon him, resolved once and for all to put an end to these contumacious disorders. He prepared an army of no more than about twenty thousand men to give battle, since there appeared no other remedy. First, however, before setting out to do battle at São Salvador, he wished that I should give him the blessing; though there was present a canon from Luanda with another priest, and not far off the Vicar General. These had been sent by the Bishop of Angola to put the King of Kongo in possession of his crown. But he would not accept this favor, both because he had already taken possession at São Salvador, when he had first been acclaimed, and also because he awaited the crown from the Supreme Pontiff.
We went then to the Church, all four of us—that is, the King, the two priests, and I. Having prayed before the altar, I rose to my feet and gave him the blessing with the crucifix I held in my hand. I gave it to him to kiss, and he took it in his hands to carry with him. At first I was reluctant to give it, because I had no other, and in it there was an indulgence. But the King perceived my reluctance, and, grasping it all the more tightly, would have it in any case, promising me to restore it after the victory. So I gave it to him, and he hung it around his neck.
After we left the Church, he signaled silence to the army, and kneeling down with all the others, I, taking up the crucifix again in my hand, made a short sermon, in which I exhorted the soldiers to courage and valor: warning them that, once the victory was won, it was not lawful to pursue further in order to slaughter or enslave the fleeing enemies. I exhorted them too to renounce every sort of superstition, and to trust only in divine mercy. I also exhorted the King to clemency, urging him to give the sign of retreat immediately upon victory; and I begged him to remember that he went not to destroy, but to restore his kingdom and the Catholic Faith. Finally, I gave them all the blessing.
When at last the army set out, I accompanied the King about fifty paces, and embracing him with my right arm, I urged him fervently to courage, to clemency, and to confidence in divine mercy. When he had gone to war, I returned home, praying earnestly to blessed God—not for the particular advantage of the King, but for the common good of the Kingdom and of our holy Faith.
On the fifteenth day of February of the past year 1709, King D. Pedro IV gave battle to his rebels and happily won the desired victory. Then, having cut off the hands and head of the Kibenga, the chief of the rebels, he took anew possession, and remained in his royal city of São Salvador, styling himself Restorer and Defender of the Holy Faith.
The blacks afterward told me that, in the very act of combat, the King had no other weapon in hand than the crucifix. That immediately after the victory he gave the sign of retreat, just as I had exhorted and begged him. That the Antonians, not yet wholly extinguished, sang the Salve Antoniana with the crowns mentioned above, and under the title of “merciful” invoked their false St. Anthony. And this I believe, for two brothers of the Kibenga with another remained obstinate, refusing ever to abjure, or to see me when I went to São Salvador.
They told me that the enemy bullets struck the King’s men but did not wound them. I do not know if this is true. What I saw with my own eyes was this: when I went to congratulate the King, I saw on the bone of his left eye a mark of a wound. Asking what it was, he replied that it had been a ball from a musket or falconet, which had grazed him a little but, without doing great harm, had fallen to the ground. If the King spoke truly, this much is certain: naturally speaking, according to my poor judgment, he must without fail have had his jaw shattered. Finally, all said that the victory was miraculous, for they had won it in a manner beyond their expectation. In any case, the King’s faith seemed to me great, and all went joyfully under the name of restoring the ruined churches, and of reestablishing and confirming the Holy Faith of Christ.
After at last congratulating the King, I asked him to restore to me the crucifix, as he had promised to return it after victory. He answered that he had indeed won the victory, but the fugitive rebels had not yet yielded obedience; so, with the crucifix he had gained the victory, and with the crucifix he meant also to reduce the fugitives to obedience. I was therefore forced to leave it with him, and so I returned without a crucifix. The rest may be told in the account of the mission’s visitation.
Rome, in the Convent of the Capuchins, 17 October 1710.
