The Life of St Anthony the Abbot in a Sienese Altarpiece

One of the most beautiful depictions of episodes from the life of St Anthony the Abbot, whose feast is kept today, is a series of eight panels from an altarpiece painted in Siena sometime between 1425-50. The anonymous artist, to whom many other paintings are attributed, is referred to as the Master of the Osservanza, the name of a church on the outskirts of the city where he worked. (“Osservanza” was the common term for a group of Franciscans who sought to return to the observance of the most primitive and austere form of the Rule of St Francis.) Various theories have been proposed as to the altarpiece’s commission and destination; the depiction of St Anthony in a black habit may suggest that it was originally made for an Augustinian church, an hypothesis supported by the fact that the reading of St Athanasius’ Life of Anthony was a decisive moment in St Augustine’s conversion. The altarpiece was later broken up, and the different panels are now scattered through various museums, which will be noted in the individual explanations of each one. (All images are in the public domain in the United States; taken from this Wikimedia Commons page unless otherwise noted.)

The first panel is set inside the cathedral of Siena. On the right side, St Anthony is shown very young, kneeling in prayer at the high altar. (The artist gives us a glimpse of one of the crown jewels of Sienese art, the famous Maestà of Duccio di Buoninsegna.) On the left side, an older Anthony, richly dressed like a wealthy man of the 15th century, is attending Mass; as recounted by St Athanasius, his decision to become a monk was inspired by hearing at Mass the words of the Gospel (Matt. 19, 21), as if they were being spoken to himself, “If thou would be perfect, go and sell all that thou hast, and give it to the poor, and come, follow me.” (We cannot assume that every depiction of the liturgy in the art of this period is attempting to be strictly accurate, but note the blue chasuble and the single candle on the altar. – This panel is now in the Berlin Gemälde-Gallerie.)

St Anthony sells his possessions and distributes the money to the poor. The building which dominates the composition is typical of Sienese Gothic architecture; many similar structures can still be seen there to this day. Over the Saint’s head, in the tympanum of the building’s door, is the crest of a prominent family, the Martinozzi; a member of this family, a Franciscan named Giovanni, was martyred for the Faith in 1345 in Egypt, St Anthony’s native country. This would seem to suggest that it was commissioned by them, but there are strong arguments to the contrary. (See Painting in Renaissance Siena, by Christiansen, Kanter and Strehlke, the catalog of a show held at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1988, p. 105. – This panel and the following one are now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C.)

After living in a monastery for several years, and overcoming many temptations, St Anthony decides to depart to a more isolated place in the desert, and live as a hermit; here, he is seen receiving the blessing of one of the monks. One of the responsories of his proper Office describes this first phase of his monastic life as follows: R. The most blessed man went to the cells of the monks, paying close attention of the lives of the fathers, and the virtues of each one, * and he bore great fruit, like the bees who bring forth honey after tasting (many) flowers. V. Eagerly did he follow the temperance of this fellow, the humility of that one, the patience of another. And he bore...

St Anthony is tempted by a devil, who appears to him in the guise of a woman. Note that the Saint is now considerably older than he was in the previous panel; the devil is identified as such by the bat wings on its back. (This panel and the following one are now in the Yale Univ. Art Gallery; the first image of these two was downloaded from their website.)

St Athanasius tells of the many times when St Anthony struggled against devils, not only by resisting temptations, but also suffering bodily harm that they were permitted to inflict upon him. On one such occasion, “a multitude of demons … so cut him with stripes that he lay on the ground speechless from the excessive pain.” He was discovered unconscious by the local villagers, who thought him dead, and brought him to their church, here depicted in the background. (Life of Anthony 8 and 9) 

On another occasion, St Anthony was tempted by a heap of gold which the devil left by the side of the road where he was passing. This was originally painted in real gold leaf that was later scraped off, leaving the Saint to confront a completely harmless-looking rabbit. (This panel is now in the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City.)

The seventh panel shows St Anthony’s dealings with St Paul the First Hermit, which I described two days ago in an article for the feast day of the latter. At the upper left, St Anthony sets out to find St Paul; on the right, slightly lower, he is guided on his way by a centaur; and at the bottom, the two Saints embrace. At the very top in the middle is depicted the same rose-colored church seen in the previous panel, to indicate that Anthony has journeyed far into the desert to find Paul. (This panel and the following are now in the National Gallery of Art in Washington, D.C., from which this image was downloaded.)

The final panel depicts St Anthony’s funeral, specifically, the Absolution at the catafalque, which is being done exactly as in the traditional Roman Rite. The catalog cited above notes that the arrangement of the scene, with one person kneeling on one side of the bier, and the rest gathered around in a semi-circle, is reminiscent of several Renaissance depictions of the funeral of St Francis. The pink and black stripes on the church’s walls are very typically Sienese.

What Killed Sacrosanctum Concilium

There have been many laws, decrees, constitutions and such in the Church’s long history which, without ever being formally revoked, simply faded into disuse and obscurity. Very often, it is impossible to say when such laws became dead letters. But in the case of Sacrosanctum Concilium, the Second Vatican Council’s constitution on the liturgy, we know the exact day on which it became a dead letter. That day was September 26, 1964, when the Sacred Congregation for Rites published the decree Inter Oecumenici, billed, falsely, as a step towards its implementation, but in reality, a guarantee that it would not be implemented, but rejected.

I say this because it was the decree that enshrined the celebration of the Mass versus populum. “The main altar should preferably be freestanding, to permit walking around it and celebration facing the people.” (parag. 91) The problem with this was not principally that it was based on an egregious scholarly error, one of many that marred the process of liturgical reform well before Vatican II was even thought of. It is rather that there is not one word of Sacrosanctum Concilium that hints in any way that this should be done, and yet it was done in the name of implementing said constitution. The document was signed by Giacomo Cardinal Lercaro (archbishop of Bologna, and an avowed liturgical revolutionary), the first president of the “Consilium ad exsequendam – the committee for implementing” SC. Its 2nd paragraph contains the statement that “(t)he Consilium … has promptly taken up its two appointed tasks: to carry out the directives of the constitution,” and yet it declared as “preferable” a novelty which the constitution in no way envisioned.

I have no doubt that this part of the post-Conciliar litany of failure is well-known to our readers. I repeat it nonetheless as a reminder of something essential, which I also stated in my recent assessment of the oddly forgetful liturgical memorandum shared by Cardinal Roche with his fellow Eminences during the recent consistory. The liturgical reform was not born out of Sacrosanctum Concilium, as was stated incorrectly in Pope Francis’ apostolic letter Desiderio desideravi (quoted by His Eminence). It was born out of the rejection of Sacrosanctum Concilium.

Enter Gianmarco Busco, who was appointed bishop of the northern Italian city of Mantua on June 3, 2016. By an interesting coincidence, this date is the anniversary of the death of Pope John XXIII, initiator of the Second Vatican Council, and one of the patron Saints of unintended consequences. After nearly ten years of his episcopate, His Grace has decided to involve his beautiful cathedral, which is dedicated to St Peter the Apostle, in a year-long pastoral “experiment”, to update the building to the “Conciliar (sic) liturgical reform.” These pictures were taken by a friend during a recent visit.

Here is the official explanation of it, posted on a placard in the cathedral.

Diocese of Mantua - Cathedral of St Peter the Apostle

Experimental interventions for updating to the conciliar liturgical reform.

“Dear pilgrim, tourist, or whoever you are. (This is just as weird and rude in Italian as it would be in any other language.)

As you enter this cathedral, you will find yourself a little disoriented compared with the traditional arrangement. In fact, you find yourself in a space that is hosting a process of liturgical updating, inspired by the criteria of Vatican II. ...

This important council in the 1960s dedicated one of its principal documents to the theme of the liturgy, as an expression of the Church’s highest prayer. This is the Constitution called Sacrosanctum Concilium.

In light of the criteria of the liturgical reform, a team of men and women, specialists, liturgists, and pastoral operators have worked together for months, with the goal of thinking up an effective way to re-order the liturgical space of the cathedral. The objective of their work has been to translate into the cathedral (n.b. here) the indications of the Council, the intent of which, we must not forget, is to favor the rediscovery of the deep sense of the liturgy, and the people of God’s participation in it.”

It goes on to explain that this is only an experiment, and the faithful will be invited to express their opinions of it, with a view to a more definitive project in the future. It also explained that these graceless wooden lumps squatting in the nave are “temporary models”, and that they were not expensive. But sadly, if past experience with these kinds of projects has taught us anything, we can guess that A. the project will be done as we see it here with some minor adjustment; B. the completely negative assessment which the ordinary faithful give of it will be ignored, and C., the permanent furnishing which are finally commissioned and installed will be just as ugly, and shockingly expensive.

On the rare occasions when I write about these kinds of things, I have been wont to use rhetorical phrases that begin with something like, “It hardly needs to be said…” or “It hardly bears repeating…” But in this case, it does need to be said, and it does bear repeating: this is a betrayal of what Sacrosanctum Concilium asked for, and has nothing to do with what the bishops at Vatican II asked for, or expected to come out of a reform of the liturgy.

I ended my previous commentary by stating that sooner or later, the Church is simply going to have to start asking itself a lot of hard questions about the failure of the post-Conciliar reforms. Since Pope Leo has determined that there will be now consistories on a regular basis, and since consistories are exactly the forum in which such questions are meant to be asked and answered, I make bold to formula one as follows:

More than six decades have passed since Sacrosanctum Concilium was issued, and bishops are still claiming to “implement Sacrosanctum Concilium” by doing something that it in no way envisioned, or even mentioned. Is there any realistic possibility left of untangling what that council actually said from these ubiquitous, willful falsehoods?

The answer, Your Eminences, is No. We pray that you will find the courage to recognize this, and act accordingly.

Some more pictures of the hitherto beautiful cathedral of Mantua, to cleanse your palate...

Continue Reading this Article. . .

St. Francis of Assisi’s Canticle of the Sun: Sister Mother Earth

Van Gogh, Man and the Earth

Lost in Translation #156

In the Canticle of the Sun, Saint Francis moves from a direct praise of the Creator to a praise of the Creator in individual creatures such as the sun, water, and air. And in the eighth stanza, he zooms out to a more complex object:

Laudato si, mi Signore, per sora nostra matre Terra,

la quale ne sustenta et gouerna,

et produce diuersi fructi con coloriti fior et herba.

Which I translate as:

Praised be You, my Lord, through Sister Mother Earth,

who sustains us and governs us and who produces

varied fruits with colored flowers and herbs.

As we have noted in an earlier article, Francis chose the title “brother” or “sister” based on the gender of the noun in Italian: since the Italian word for earth or land (terra) is feminine, Francis calls the earth “sister.”

But we never explained why Francis addresses creatures as siblings in the first place. Why not, for example, call the sun and the earth friends or comrades instead? The answer, I believe, is to emphasize that all creation has the same Maker and that subsequently, all creatures are related to each other. Rather than see the environment as something that is alien or “other” than us, the healthier model is to see us all as products of God—while still acknowledging, of course, our unique dignity as human beings.

Moreover, when something is your brother or sister, you feel a familial responsibility to take care of it. It is said that some Arab cultures refer to a chivalrous man as a “brother of girls.” As Msgr. Arthur Tonne explains, the expression indicates a man “to whom God has given a clean heart to love all women as his sisters, and strength and courage to fight for their protection.” Imagine if all humankind were a “brother of girls” to each other and to all creation.

But can creation also be our mother? The danger in saying so is that it might lead to pantheism, the believe that everything is God (which ends up meaning that God is nothing). G.K. Chesterton goes so far as to say:

Unfortunately, if you regard Nature as a mother, you discover that she is a step-mother. The main point of Christianity was this: that Nature is not our mother: Nature is our sister. We can be proud of her beauty, since we have the same father; but she has no authority over us; we have to admire, but not to imitate. This gives to the typically Christian pleasure in this earth a strange touch of lightness that is almost frivolity. Nature was a solemn mother to the worshippers of Isis and Cybele. Nature was a solemn mother to Wordsworth or to Emerson. But Nature is not solemn to Francis of Assisi or to George Herbert. To St. Francis, Nature is a sister, and even a younger sister: a little, dancing sister, to be laughed at as well as loved.

Chesterton may be exaggerating a bit, but I believe his main concern is the reason why Saint Francis calls the Earth “Sister Mother.” If he called her “Mother” only, it could make him a nature-worshipper; but if he called her “Sister” only, it would be a denial of the earth’s role in governing all of the individual elements Francis has been talking about it in the canticle. “Sister Mother” makes no sense in describing normal family relations, but it makes all the sense in the world in describing our peculiar relationship to the planet on which we dwell. For even though we receive our unique spiritual essence from our Heavenly Father, it was he who chose to make us from the slime of the earth.

This article originally appeared in the Messenger of St. Anthony 127:10, international edition (October 2025), p. 15. Many thanks to its editors for allowing its publication here.

St Paul the First Hermit

On the calendars of the Roman and Byzantine Rites, today is the feast of St Paul the First Hermit, an Egyptian anchorite whose life was written by St Jerome around the year 375AD, only 15-20 years after Paul’s death at the age of 113. As recounted by Jerome, Paul was from the city of Thebes (in the Byzantine tradition, he is called “Paul the Theban”), and at the age of 16, on the death of his parents, received a large inheritance. The persecution of Christians under the Emperors Decius (249-51) and Valerian (253-60) was then raging, (Jerome gives particularly awful examples of its ferocity in the deaths of two unnamed martyrs); Paul’s sister had recently married, and her husband thought to get ahold of the inheritance by betraying his young brother-in-law to the authorities.

St Paul the First Hermit, by Jusepe de Ribera (1591-1652), 1640, now in the Prado Museum in Madrid. This representation of the Saint is very similar to that of St Jerome in the Counter-Reformation period, but he is distinguished from the latter by his garment of palm branches, where Jerome traditionally wears the red robes of a cardinal. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Paul therefore fled into the desert, where he happened upon a cave at the foot of a rocky mountain; to this day, there is a Coptic monastery named for him in the eastern desert of Egypt on the site of this cave, roughly 100 miles south-east of Cairo, and 8 miles from the Red Sea. St Jerome says that the cave was “like a large hall, open to the sky, but shaded by the wide-spread branches of an ancient palm”, and contained within itself a stream of water. Paul immediately “fell in love with the dwelling place, as if it were a gift offered to him by God”, and thus remained there for the rest of his life in prayer and solitude, the palm tree being the only source of both his food and clothing. Jerome spent a great deal of time among monks and anchorites in different parts of the Mediterranean world, and for the sake of those who find it incredible that a man might live so, calls “Jesus and his holy angels to witness” that he had personally known monks in Syria who lived in similarly austere conditions.

The Monastery of St Paul (Image by LorisRomito from Wikimedia Commons, CC BY-SA 3.0)

The largest part of the book (chapters 6-16) is taken up with the meeting between Paul and St Anthony the Abbot, whom the East traditionally calls “St Anthony the Great.” This took place when the former was very close to the end of his life, and the latter 90 years old. In the West, St Paul’s feast was formerly kept on January 10, exactly one week before Anthony’s, to symbolize that he preceded Anthony in the monastic life; at the Tridentine reform, it was moved out of the octave of the Epiphany to its Byzantine date.

The thought once came to Anthony that there was no monk in the desert more perfect than himself, but it was revealed to him in a dream that there was indeed such a one, and that he must go to visit him. Although neither the man’s name or dwelling place was revealed along with this information, Anthony at once set out to find him, guided on his way first by a centaur, which pointed the way to the man of God, and then by a satyr. Jerome states that the first of these may have been one of the wild creatures that dwell in the desert, or a devil in disguise sent to terrify Anthony (who had many similar visions in his long career), brought to heel, as it were, by the sign of the Cross which the Saint made over himself. The satyr, however, actually spoke to Anthony, and confessed that the gentiles in their error worshipped creatures like himself, but that he was a mortal, and, speaking on behalf of his people, said “We pray you on our behalf to entreat the favor of your Lord and ours, who, we have learned, came to save the world.”

At last, he was led to the cave by a she-wolf, and upon finally meeting Paul, they greeted each other by name, though they had never met before. As they conversed, there arrived a crow which for many decades had been wont to bring Paul half a loaf of bread each day, this time carrying a full loaf, at which Paul exclaimed, “See, the Lord, truly loving, truly merciful, has sent us a meal. For the last sixty years I have always received half a loaf: but at your coming Christ has doubled his soldier’s rations.” This episode is referred to in the Byzantine Canon for his feast day: “Nourished by heavenly bread, as once was Elias, though the ministry of a crow, o Father, you fled the Jezabel of the senses under the protection of Christ.”

The Isenheim Altarpiece, by Matthias Grünewald (ca. 1470-1528), ca. 1515. Left panel, the Visit of St Anthony to St Paul; right panel, the Temptation of St Anthony, based on chapters 8 and 9 of St Athanasius’Life of St Anthony, which give vivid descriptions of the demonic attacks which St Anthony suffered, and have inspired many rather wild artistic depictions. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

Paul then revealed to Anthony that he knew that his time to die was very near, and sent him back to his own place to fetch a cloak which he had received from St Athanasius, which he was to bring back and use to bury Paul’s body. Weeping, Anthony kissed him goodbye, and returned to his monastery to fetch the cloak; when the two disciples who regularly attended him asked him where he had been for the previous several days, Anthony replied, “Woe to me a sinner, who falsely bear the name of monk. I have seen Elias, I have seen John in the desert, and truly, I have seen Paul in Paradise.” This last refers to the words of Paul’s namesake the Apostle, who was “caught up into paradise, and heard secret words, which it is not granted to man to utter”, (2 Cor. 12, 4), but also to Anthony, who, when pressed to explain his meaning, simply replied, “There is a time to keep silence, and a time to speak.” (Ecc. 3, 7)

While returning with the cloak, however, Anthony beheld at a distance Paul’s soul ascending to heaven, at which he prostrated himself and lamented his friend’s departure. On reaching the cave, he found Paul kneeling upright in an attitude of prayer, and at first thinking him to be somehow alive, knelt down next to him to join him, only to realize that “even the Saint’s dead body, in the office of its posture, was praying to God unto whom all things live.” [1] He therefore brought the body out for burial, “singing hymns and psalms in accordance with Christian tradition” [2], but had no shovel with which to dig a grave. This service was provided by two lions who came out of the desert, dug the grave with their claws, and then would not depart until they had received Anthony’s blessing. When he departed from the place, Anthony took with him the cloak which Paul had woven for himself of palm leaves, and wore it each year on Easter and Pentecost.

A capital of the abbey of St Mary Magdalene in Vézelay, France, showing the burial of St Paul, a modern (i.e. 19th-century) restoration by Eugène Viollet-le-Duc, based on an original fragment now in the museum of Vézelay. (Public domain image from Wikimedia Commons.)

In the official commentary on the post-Conciliar reform of the calendar of Saints, published in 1969 by the Vatican Polyglot Press, the entry for St Paul states that his feast “is left to particular calendars, for many difficulties are found in regard to the historical character of (his) life written by St Jerome.” I am certain that this refers not just to the more fantastic elements of the story such the centaur and the satyr, but to the miraculous element in general, which the modern reform downplays or eliminates from the cult of the Saints at almost every turn. [3] This strikes me as a very jejune and drearily modern way of thinking. There is nothing about the miracles reported by Jerome, such as those of the crow and the lions, or the mutual recognition between the two Saints at their first meeting, that particularly stretches the credulity of anyone who believes in the reality of miracles and the providence of a loving God.

As to the centaur and the satyr, even if we discount his supposition that the former may have been some kind of supernatural apparition, St Jerome was certainly not the only educated man in antiquity who believed in such things. Pliny the Elder, for example, writes in his Natural History (6.3), “Claudius Caesar writes that a hippo-centaur was born in Thessaly and died the same day; and in his reign we actually saw one that was brought here for him from Egypt preserved in honey.” He also names the “satyrs” (5.8) as one of the many tribes to be found in Africa; his description of them is far from the strangest given in that chapter. Is it really so difficult to suppose that Jerome’s account of the satyr as a “little man with hooked snout, horned forehead, and extremities like goats’ feet” is merely a pre-scientific exaggeration, received second-hand, of a man of very small stature and unusual appearance? And more to the point, why should the “failures” of a man of that era in the field of natural science, which were the failures of the era, and not of the man, cause us to discount his ability and trustworthiness as a biographer of his fellow men?

Writing about some rather radical proposals made in the 19th century for reforming the Saints’ lives in the breviary, Fr. Pierre Batiffol offers the following quotation from his esteemed contemporary, the liturgist Dom Alexandre Grospellier: “It is, in my opinion, to form an erroneous idea of the breviary to require in it the scientific strictness of a collection of critical hagiography. Certain legends have become the inheritance of Christian tradition, not by virtue of their historical certitude, but because of their expression of lively and fervent piety in regard to the saints: they have influenced the way of thinking, feeling and praying, on the part of our forefathers, and they come to us charged with a spiritual life which is indeed sometimes characterized by simplicity, but often full of power, and almost always able to touch the heart. These legends, therefore, belong to the history of the Church just in the same way as legendary lays and ballads belong to the history of nations. It would be something like vandalism to banish them altogether from the book of public prayer, even as it would be vandalism to break the painted windows of cathedrals or tear the canvases of early masters, on the ground that the representations in those windows or pictures are not accurate historical documents like a charter or a monumental inscription.” (History of the Roman Breviary, p. 314 of the English edition published by Longman, Green and Co., 1912; footnote 3, citing Dom Alexandre Grospellier, De l’état actuel des livres liturgiques et de leur revision (Rome, 1911), p. 34.)

[1] The Latin words here translated as “even the Saint’s dead body, in the office of its posture, was praying to God unto whom all things live”, are “etiam cadaver sancti Deum, cui omnia vivunt, officio gestus precaretur.” It is tempting to think this passage, the first occurrence in Latin Christian literature of the phrase “cui omnia vivunt”, may have inspired the composition of the invitatory for the Office of the Dead, “Regem, cui omnia vivunt, venite, adoremus.”

[2] This passage is an important witness to the fact that by the mid-4th century, when Jerome was very young, and Paul and Anthony very old, there was already some kind of funeral service distinct from the rest of the Church’s prayers.

[3] To give only one of countless possible examples, the original collect of St Francis Xavier used to begin “O God, who didst will by the preaching and miracles of blessed Francis, to add the nations of the Indies to thy Church...”; as a Saint canonized after Trent, this was the only collect of him that ever existed. In the Novus Ordo, it now begins “O God, who by the preaching of the blessed Francis, did acquire many peoples to Thyself...”

Organizing Pontifical Masses: A Call for Help

One of the most beautiful and unforgettable ways to introduce Catholics to the riches of the Latin liturgical heritage is through the crown jewel of the Roman Rite: the Solemn Pontifical Mass. Its splendor and pageantry, intricacy and symbolic richness are an unforgettable immersion in the spirit of the sacred liturgy at its summit, gathered around the bishop and reflecting the prismatic hierarchy of the Church.

Often laity who attend such a Mass consider it a turning point in their appreciation for the Church’s bimillenial patrimony of prayer. Bishops themselves are often deeply moved by the opportunity to pontificate in the fullest sense of the term; it gives them new insights into the liturgy, their own role, and the reasons why Catholics are increasingly drawn to traditional expressions of the Faith.

All in all, it is nothing but a win on all sides.

At this time, with a friendlier climate from Rome in the pontificate of Leo XIV, there is every reason to organize pontifical Masses with sympathetic and open-minded bishops, and to do so on a broad and regular basis.

But in order for pontifical ceremonies to be conducted, there must be a point person, a key organizer who knows how to contact and coordinate the forces required for the event. This organizer can be (and often is) a trained MC who can serve in that capacity at the Mass itself, but it can also be someone who knows the right people—above all, a knowledgeable MC and a choir director with the requisite skills.

This article is a general appeal to our readers. If any reader of New Liturgical Movement either considers himself or herself to be that contact person, or knows someone who could serve in that capacity in a given diocese, we would be deeply grateful to hear from you. Please write to pontifical@newliturgicalmovement.org for further information.

Cardinal Roche is Very, Very Worried

I am sure that by now, most of our readers have heard about the document circulated by His Eminence Arthur Cardinal Roche, prefect of the Dicastery for Divine Worship, during the recent consistory of all the cardinals called by Pope Leo. It was published yesterday on the Substack of Diane Montagna, who is also, I am sure, well-known to our readers as one of the best reporters on Church-related matters in Rome. Within a few hours of its publication, I had a message from Peter saying that it needs a thorough fisking; this was done immediately, and very ably, as always, by Fr Zuhlsdorf, and likewise, by Dr Gavin Ashenden and Dr Joseph Shaw. I thank them all for sparing me the necessity of doing it myself, and strongly recommend their commentary to all our readers.

But there are a few things about the text which I found striking, and on which I make bold to offer some commentary of my own.

The document begins with the general premise that “the history of the Liturgy ... is the history of its continuous ‘reforming’ in a process of organic development.” This is the kind of statement for which the legal term “suppressio veri” (suppression, i.e. omission or concealment, of something which is true) was invented. Because while it is true that there have been many reforms in the history of the liturgy, it is also true that the history of the liturgy is a history of strong continuity, as His Holiness Benedict XVI reminded us time and time again. And it was precisely the savage rupture in this continuity within the Roman Rite, brought about by the post-Conciliar reform, that moved him to issue Summorum Pontificum as a necessary step towards healing that rupture.

This, in turn, makes it very difficult to see how His Eminence can be correct when he states that “the use of the liturgical books that the Council sought to reform was, from St John Paul II to Francis, a concession that in no way envisaged their promotion.” Is it possible that His Eminence has wholly forgotten the reign of Pope Benedict XVI? (Prima facie, this seems unlikely, since it was the latter who appointed him to the Congregation, as it was then called, for Divine Worship.) Can he have wholly forgotten statements such as this one made by His Eminence Dario Cardinal Castrillon-Hoyos? who, as President of the Ecclesia Dei Commission, said in an address to the Latin Mass Society of England and Wales:

“(Summorum Pontificum) gives rights to the ordinary faithful and to priests which must be respected by those in authority. The Holy Father is aware that in different places around the world many requests from priests and lay faithful who desired to celebrate according to the ancient rites were often not acted upon. That is why he has now authoritatively established that to celebrate according to the more ancient form of the liturgy – the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass as well the sacraments and other liturgical rites – is a juridical right, and not just a privilege, accorded to all.

Certainly this must be done in harmony with both ecclesiastical law and ecclesiastical superiors, but superiors also must recognise that these rights are now firmly established in the law of the Church by the Vicar of Christ himself. It is a treasure that belongs to the whole Catholic Church and which should be widely available to all of Christ’s faithful. (my emphasis) This means that parish priests and bishops must accept the petitions and the requests of the faithful who ask for it and that priests and bishops must do all that they can to provide this great liturgical treasure of the Church’s tradition for the faithful.”

Cardinal Hoyos preaching during a Mass celebrated in the Sacrament chapel of St Peter’s Basilica in November of 2011.

Can His Eminence also have forgotten his predecessor-but-one in his current job, Antonio Cardinal Cañizares? who said, “Summorum Pontificum is of great value which we should all appreciate; it has not only to do with the liturgy, but with the whole of the Church’s being and what it means to tradition, without which the Church is converted into a changing human institution, and of course, also has an application to the reading and interpretation that is made of Vatican II.”

Can he have forgotten statements from Pope Benedict himself such as this one, that he issued Summorum Pontificum to favor “... the unity of the Church with itself, in its interior, with its past; that that which was holy for Her before should not be in any way an evil now”? How could this possibly be, if it were not his intention to promote the continued use of the traditional liturgy? Can he have forgotten that St John Paul II urged the bishops to a “wide and generous application” of the permission to celebrate the traditional liturgy under the Ecclesia Dei indult?

Perhaps he can, and far be it from me, of course, to suggest that His Eminence, in writing and circulating this document during a consistory, was trying to persuade his fellow Eminences of things he himself knows to be untrue. At the same time, as we pray that His Eminence recover from whatever injury or illness has compromised his memories of the previous pontificate but one, we may trust that such specific lapses of memory are rare, and it is unlikely that any other Eminences suffer from them.

This Ratzinger-specific lapse of memory would also explain how His Eminence has managed to forget the interview which he himself gave last year in which he repudiated TC, and admitted that Pope Benedict had been right all along. For example, he said (this is a direct quote), “There is nothing wrong with attending the Mass celebrated with the 1962 missal.” This was, of course, the very point which Pope Benedict himself made in his letter to the bishops of the world accompanying Summorum Pontificum, one of his most famous quotes, because one of his wisest: “What earlier generations held as sacred, remains sacred and great for us too.”

This repudiation of TC was, of course, hardly surprising, and not only because by March of last year, it was obvious that there would soon be a new sheriff in town. As His Eminence has cause to know better than most, from the day it came out, its apologists have struggled to explain why it was in any way necessary or beneficial to the Church. At the time of last year’s interview, he made no mention whatsoever of the original and unapologetically specious justification of it, the threat of a looming schism. In his telling, “(w)hat Pope Francis said in Traditionis Custodes is that (the traditional rite) is not the norm.” Again, this was the very same point that Pope Benedict himself had made by calling the traditional Roman Rite, “the Extraordinary Form.” And indeed, His Eminence downplayed the problem of the supposedly looming schism by stating that “The numbers devoted to the Traditional Latin Mass are, in reality, quite small, ...”

And yet, he is clearly back to being very, very worried about them. The post-Conciliar Rite holds a near total sway in the Roman part of the Catholic Church, the part which outnumbers all the other parts combined by well over 1¼ billion members. But as long as there are any faithful left who cling to the traditional rite, the unity of the Faith and of the Church are in mortal danger. And therefore, His Eminence reminds his fellow Eminences that “Pope Francis ... pointed the way to unity in the use of the liturgical books promulgated by the holy Popes Paul VI and John Paul II, in accordance (sic) with the decrees of the Second Vatican Council, the sole expression of the lex orandi of the Roman Rite.”

Dangerous counter-revolutionaries threatening the unity of the Faith!

His Eminence ends by quoting Pope Francis again, from the apostolic letter Desiderio desideravi: “I do not see how it is possible to say that one recognizes the validity of the Council ... and at the same time not accept the liturgical reform born out of Sacrosanctum Concilium.” And here lies the crux of the matter. It is in point of fact perfectly easy to see how this is possible, for those who have eyes to see. One simply has to be willing to recognize the obvious truth, that the liturgical reform was not born out of Sacrosanctum Concilium. It was born out of the rejection of Sacrosanctum Concilium.

The Church has paid an appallingly steep price for this rejection. Earlier in his document, His Eminence quotes Pope Francis quoting the opening paragraph of SC, and calling them “words which do not cease to enthuse.” Paraphrasing slightly, the late Pope stated, “They are objectives that describe a precise desire to reform the Church in her fundamental dimensions: to make the Christian life of the faithful grow more and more every day; to adapt more suitably to the needs of our own times those institutions which are subject to change; to foster whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ; to reinvigorate that which serves to call all to the bosom of the Church (cf. SC I).”

None of this has happened. The post-Conciliar revolution has not made the Christian life of the faithful grow more and more every day. It has not made the Church’s institutions more suitable to the needs of our times. It has not fostered whatever can promote union among all who believe in Christ. It has not reinvigorated that which serves to call all to the bosom of the Church.

When does this start?

At the consistory, the cardinals were given four topics for discussion, and asked to choose two. Liturgy was one of the four, and was not chosen, but Pope Leo has determined not only that there will be another consistory in June, but that they will be, for the time at least, annual events. Presumably, it will be brought up at the next one.

And sooner or later, some very hard questions will have to be asked at these events. There are now only four bishops alive who were at Vatican II; the youngest of them, Francis Cardinal Arinze (another of His Eminence’s predecessors at Divine Worship) is 93. So one of those questions might well be, “Whom does the opening paragraph of Sacrosanctum Concilium ‘still enthuse’?” Another might well be, “Whom does the statement ‘there must be no innovations (in the liturgy) unless the good of the Church genuinely and certainly requires them’ ‘still enthuse’?”, or, harder still, “Did it ever really enthuse anyone?”

The asking of such questions is a necessary first step to getting over the enthusiasms of the post-Conciliar revolution, and redressing its many failures. Let us pray unceasingly that the Holy Father and the cardinals have the courage to take it.

“Latin Mass Project” Seeks to Expand Knowledge of the Beauty of Tradition

I’ve been meaning to write about this for some time, and better late than never. I encourage NLM readers to check out the initiative called the “Latin Mass Project,” which has a website as beautiful as its subject deserves. Their flagship publication, the first of many to come, is Ad Altare Dei: Pew Edition. 

This book contains the full texts of the Mass in Latin and English, explanations of those parts of the Mass which vary throughout the year, and clearly-marked rubrics. There are also boxes containing commentary on the gestures, prayers, and objects found within the Mass. 

The first edition having sold out, a second edition was prepared with several improvements: gold foil cover detail, gilded edges, sturdier hardcover binding, and a ribbon, among other touches.

Each page features full-color photos taken at Old St. Patrick Oratory, the Institute’s apostolate in Kansas City, MO. Acclaimed by children and adults alike, this book is intended to be a beautiful, durable, and practical resource for everyday use by faithful of all ages.

The preface reads:

“Under the patronage of St. Francis de Sales, St. Veronica, and St. Joseph, Protector of the Universal Church, Latin Mass Project seeks to introduce the Extraordinary Form of the Roman Rite in a clear and beautiful way. With the belief that beauty is a powerful evangelist and the Mass is a brilliant catechist, it aims to be a showcase and primer of the birthright that belongs to all baptized Catholics.

It is my sincerest hope that this book, any future books in this series, and all of the work of Latin Mass Project presents the truth of Tradition in an attractive and approachable way, inviting fellow Catholics from all backgrounds to know and love the heritage that belongs to each and every one of us. Christ established His Church and her Tradition for you and your salvation. This is your inheritance, a gift from Him to you; come to the altar of God and see what is yours!”

I reached out to the head of the project, Trini Crocker, and asked for some further information. She replied:

"The Pew Guide has been very well received by both children and adults. The pictures help children who cannot yet read follow the book for the duration of the Mass, and help adults connect the prayers of the Mass to the actions of the priest at the altar. The rubrical commentary is intended to answer some of the immediate in-pew questions one may have. There is no age range on this book!"

I asked her about the future of her endeavors:

"What other work will the Project do? A new guide for Tenebrae will be released in Spring 2026. At the time of this writing, the long-term goal of the Project is a four-volume visual encyclopedia of the Extraordinary Form covering everything from the Mass to the Ceremonies of Baptism to the Epiphany house blessing. Divine Providence will be the driving force in the development of the Project, so the possibilities are endless."

She also clarified how the Project is connected with the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest (ICKSP):

"The Project is not produced, funded, or owned by the ICKSP in any way. The Project is a venture entirely separate from the ICKSP. However, due to its clear visible association with the Project, the local and provincial superiors granted approval prior to the publication of the Pew Guide. Shortly after its launch, it received formal approval from Monsignor Giles Wach, founder of the Institute."

For more information about the Project, its background, its current and upcoming projects, and more, please visit www.latinmassproject.com. The Project can be contacted via email at salve.latinmassproject@gmail.com.

The 2025 Festival of Saint Louis in Photos

Last August, an estimated 1,000 Catholics of Saint Louis, Missouri, joined by pilgrims from abroad, celebrated the feast of St. Louis IX with the sixth annual Festival of Saint Louis.

The festival was comprised of a Holy Rosary Novena, a Grand Banquet, Seven-cope Vespers, the entire Divine Office of the feast, a Solemn Mass, and procession with a relic of St. Louis to the Apotheosis in Forest Park.

The event’s sponsors included: Fraternitas Sacrae Domini Coronae, The Oratory of Ss. Gregory & Augustine, St. Francis de Sales Oratory, The Cantores Sancti Ludovici, Oratorio, local Knights of Columbus Councils, and the Latin Liturgy Association.

Preparations for the seventh annual Festival of Saint Louis are already underway. For more information, visit the website here.

We thank Mrs. Kiera Petrick from the Oratory of Ss. Gregory & Augustine for photos of Solemn Mass, Second Vespers, the procession, Holy Rosary, and the dance at the Apotheosis. We thank Mr. Camden Scobey of St. Francis de Sales Oratory for photos of First Vespers.

First Vespers

Held at St. Francis de Sales Oratory, an apostolate of the Institute of Christ the King Sovereign Priest

Solemn Mass

Held at The Oratory of Ss. Gregory & Augustine, an apostolate of the Archdiocese of St. Louis

Continue Reading this Article. . .

Two Medieval Hymns for Epiphany

For brevity’s sake, the title of this post is slightly inexact: the first of these two hymns is for Epiphany, while the second was used for the whole period from Christmas to the octave of Epiphany.

The Baptism of Christ, 1471-79 by the Austrian painter Michael Pacher (1435 ca. - 1498). Image from Wikimedia Commons by Uoaei1, CC BY-SA 4.0)

The Roman Divine Office is traditionally much more conservative than other Uses in the adoption of new texts, and this is particularly true in regard to hymns. Seasons such as Advent and Lent have three hymns, one each for Matins, Lauds and Vespers, but many feasts, even some of the greatest and most ancient, have only two. And thus for the Epiphany, the hymn Crudelis Herodes (originally Hostis Herodes impie) is said at both Vespers and Matins, and O sola magnarum urbium at Lauds.

Many medieval Uses, however, added one to this repertoire, an anonymous composition of at least the 10th century, A Patre Unigenitus. (Dreves, Analecta hymnica medii aevi, vol. 2, p. 80 and vol. 27, p. 66) In the Use of Sarum, it was sung at Matins during the octave, since on the feast itself, Matins has no hymn; the Carmelites and Dominicans put it at Lauds. It is a slightly irregular alphabetic acrostic; A is used twice, and the not-very-well composed strophe that supplied the letters V, X, Y and Z dropped out of use. The C of “clarum” is written with a K, a common practice in acrostics, since K is hardly used in classical Latin. The original reading of the S line was “Sceptrum tuumque inclitum”; this is grammatically irregular, since the enclitic particle “-que” should be attached to the first word, and so it was often corrected to the reading given below, as in the Dominican and Carmelite Offices. The English translation is by the great John Mason Neale, from “Collected Hymns, Sequences and Carols of John Mason Neale” (Hodder and Stoughton London 1914.)

A Patre Unigenitus Ad nos venit per Virginem, Baptisma cruce consecrans, Cunctos fideles generans.	From God the Father, Virgin-born To us the only Son came down, By death the font to consecrate, The faithful to regenerate.
De caelo celsus prodiens Excepit formam hominis, Facturam morte redimens, Gaudia vita rediens.	From highest heaven His course began, He took the form of mortal man, Creation by His death restored, And shed new joys of life abroad.
Hoc te, Redemptor, quaesumus Illabere propitius Klarumque nostris cordibus Lumen praebe fidelibus	Glide on, Thou glorious Sun, and bring The gift of healing on Thy wing; The clearness of Thy light dispense Unto Thy people’s every sense.
Mane nobiscum, Domine, Noctem obscuram remove, Omne delictum ablue, Piam medelam tribue.	Abide with us, o Lord, we pray, The gloom of night remove away; Thy work of healing, Lord, begin, And do away the stain of sin.
Quem jam venisse novimus, Redire item credimus, Sub sceptro tuo inclito Tuum defende clipeum.	We know that Thou didst come of yore; Thou, we believe, shalt come once more: Thy guardian shield o’er us extend, Thine own dear sheepfold to defend.
Gloria tibi, Domine, Qui apparuisti hodie, Cum Patre et Sancto Spiritu, In sempiterna saecula.    Amen.	All glory, Lord, to Thee we pay, For Thine Epiphany to-day; All glory, as is ever meet, To Father and to Paraclete.    Amen.

In the Liturgy of the Hours, the hymn has been subjected to the usual cack-handed alterations by Fr Anselmo Lentini OSB, and assigned to First Vespers of the feast of Our Lord’s Baptism. On the basis of a minority manuscript tradition, the address is changed to the second person, and various other words altered to fit that (e.g. the vocative “Unigenite” in the first line.) The fifth strophe is replaced by a doxology invented by Lentini.

In the Roman Breviary, and in most medieval Uses, the hymns of Prime, Terce, Sext and None are completely invariable throughout the year, although their doxology often changes. However, there existed a minority tradition (e.g. at Liège in the Low Countries, and in England at York, but not in the much more widely diffused Use of Sarum), which assigned a proper hymn, Agnoscat omne saeculum, to these Hours, starting on Christmas day, and continuing through to the octave of Epiphany. The hymn was broken up into two strophes per Hour, plus the doxology of the current feast. When Fr Guido Dreves SJ (1854-1909) was publishing his monumental collection of medieval hymns, the Analecta hymnica, its attribution was apparently a matter of debate; Dreves himself says (vol. 50, pp. 85-6) only that it is certainly by the same author as the common hymn of the Virgin Mary Quem terra, on the grounds that it shares two lines with it. (This seems a weak line of argument; medievals valued originality far less than we do, and borrowing texts was extremely common.) Writing in 1984, Fr Lentini ascribed it to “an unknown author of the 7th or 8th century.” Several more recent scholars, however, accept the traditional attribution to St Venantius Fortunatus (ca. 530-600), the author of the great Passiontide hymns.

In the Liturgy of the Hours, it remains miraculously untouched; the first three strophes and the sixth are assigned to Vespers of the Annunciation, and the fourth, fifth, seventh and eighth to the Lauds of the newly invented Solemnity of Mary on January 1st. It is a tribute to the smashing success of the new Office that no recording of either is available on YouTube, but it would have been sung with the same melody used for the other Christmas hymns, according to local custom, so I have included here the original version of the Roman Vesper hymn of Christmas, Christe Redemptor omnium. The English translation is from the same volume of John Mason Neale cited above.

Ad Primam Agnoscat omne saeculum Venisse vitae praemium, Post hostis asperi iugum Apparuit redemptio.	At Prime Let every age and nation own That life’s reward at length is shown; The foe’s hard yoke is cast away, Redemption hath appeared to-day.
Isaias quae cecinit, Completa sunt de Virgine: Annuntiavit Angelus, Sanctus replevit Spiritus	Isaiah’s strains fulfilment meet, And in the Virgin are complete: The Angel’s tongue hath called her blest , The Holy Ghost hath filled her breast.
Ad Tertiam Maria ventre concipit Verbi fidelis semine; Quem totus orbis non capit, Portant puellae viscera.	At Terce The Virgin Mary hath conceived, By that true word which she believed, And Whom the wide world cannot hold, A spotless maiden’s arms enfold.
Radix Jesse floruit Et virga fructum edidit; Fecunda partum protulit Et virgo mater permanet	Now buds the flower of Jesse’s root, Now Aaron’s rod puts out its fruit; She sees her Offspring rise to view, The Mother, yet the Virgin too.
Ad Sextam Praesaepi poni pertulit, Qui lucis auctor exstitit; Cum Patre caelos condidit, Sub Matre pannos induit.	At Sext He, by Whose hand the light was made, Deigns in a manger to be laid; He with His Father made the skies, And by His Mother swaddled lies.
Legem dedit qui saeculo, Cuius decem praecepta sunt, Dignando factus est homo Sub legis esse vinculo	He that once gave the Law to men, And wrote it in Commandments Ten, Himself man’s nature deigns to share, The fetters of the Law to wear.
Ad Nonam Adam vetus quod polluit, Adam novus hoc abluit, Tumens quod ille deicit, Humillimus hic erigit	At None Now the Old Adam’s sinful stain Doth the New Adam cleanse again; And what the first by pride o’erthrew, This lowliest One uprears anew.
Jam nata lux est et salus, Fugata nox et victa mors; Venite, gentes, credite, Deum Maria protulit.	Now light is come, Salvation shewn, And night repelled, and Death o’erthrown; Approach, ye nations! own this morn, That God of Mary hath been born.

The Gospels of the Epiphany (Part 2)

As with the other solemnities of the Lord, the Sunday within the octave of the Epiphany has its own proper Mass, which begins with the introit In excelso throno; the Gospel of this Mass is that of the finding of the twelve-year old Jesus among the doctors in the temple. (St Luke 2, 42-52) The only canonical episode of the hidden years of Christ’s life has been an object of devotion as a mystery of the Rosary for centuries, and was formerly celebrated with a particular feast by the Dominican Order; it is fittingly placed by the sacred liturgy between His birth and the beginning of His public ministry. When Pope Benedict XV decided to extend the feast of the Holy Family to the universal calendar in 1921, it was fixed to the Sunday within the octave of the Epiphany, since the Gospel, which sets the key note of the whole Mass and Office, is the same as that of In excelso throno.

On the octave itself, the Church celebrates the public manifestation of Christ to the people of Israel in His Baptism, at which God proclaims, “This is my beloved Son; hear ye Him.” Sicard of Cremona comments that the second miracle celebrated by the Epiphany, the Baptism of the Lord, “is put off until the octave day, because (baptism) takes the place of circumcision, which was celebrated on the eighth day.” The public revelation of Christ to the nations, however, is deferred to Pentecost, when the Apostles begin the mission of the Church, which will last until the end of the world.

In the Missal and Breviary of St. Pius V, and subsequent revisions, the octave day of the Epiphany is textually identical to the Epiphany itself, with the exception of the three prayers of the Mass, the Gospel, which is Saint John’s account of the Baptism (1, 29-34), and the readings of Matins. Prior to the Tridentine reform, however, the Office also had a large number of proper antiphons for the psalms of Matins, Lauds and Vespers, all of them centered on the Baptism. These were entirely suppressed from the Roman Breviary in the Tridentine revision, a most uncharacteristic act of a reform that was generally very conservative. The reason would appear to be that these antiphons are clearly Greek in origin; indeed, they were even recognized to be such by the liturgical commentators of the medieval period. These were retained by several breviaries of the religious orders after Trent; the antiphons for the Gospel canticles are:

At the Magnificat of First Vespers The soldier baptizeth the king, the servant his Lord, John the Savior: the water of the Jordan is struck dumb, the dove beareth witness: the Father’s voice is heard: this is my beloved Son.
At the Benedictus John the Forerunner exsulteth, when, the Lord having been baptized in the Jordan, the cause of rejoicing to the word is made: remission of our sins is made. ‘O thou that sanctifieth the waters’, let us all cry out, ‘have mercy upon us!’
At the Magnificat of Second Vespers The fountains of the waters sare sanctified, as Christ appeareth in glory to the world: draw ye waters from the fountains of the Savior; for now Christ our God hath sanctified every creature.

The Baptism of Christ, from the Menologion of Basil II, ca. 985

In several medieval uses of the Roman Rite, white was the liturgical color of the season between the octave of the Epiphany and the Purification, where the Missal of St. Pius V prescribes green; this custom survived in much of France until the later part of the nineteenth century. It reflects the fact that the Masses of the first three Sundays of this period continue the solemnity of the Lord’s manifestation, extending the season of Christmas to include the entire forty days from the Nativity to the Purification. A similar custom existed in many places for the season after Pentecost, whereby red vestments were used instead of green; this is still the tradition of the Ambrosian Rite for all but the last four weeks before Advent.

The Office of the Epiphany itself refers to the conversion of water into wine at the wedding at Cana as one of the three miracles commemorated by the feast. (St John 2, 1-11) The fourth stanza of the principal hymn of the feast, Crudelis Herodes, reads:

Novum genus potentiae

Aquae rubescunt hydriae,

Vinumque jussa fundere,

Mutavit unda originem.

This is translated (in a somewhat archaic style) by the English Breviary of the Marquess of Bute:

A strange miraculous power is shown,

The water pots are ruddy grown,

Whose waters by command divine

Their nature change, and yield pure wine.

Although this is sung every day through the octave, the reading of the Gospel itself is delayed until the second Sunday after the feast. The tradition of commemorating this episode alongside the visit of the Magi and the Baptism of Christ is a very ancient one; St Maximus of Turin refers to it as “the tradition of our fathers” in the mid-fifth century, and the three events are mentioned together in the liturgical texts of many different rites. Of the various actions by which Christ manifests Himself as Our salvation, this one was undoubtedly chosen for such a prominent place because St John calls it the first of Christ’s miracles, whereby “he made manifest (ephanerose) His glory.”

The Wedding at Cana, painting in the Scrovegni Chapel in Padua, Italy, by Giotto, 1305.

The introit of this Mass is almost identical to the fifth antiphon of Epiphany Matins, taken from the sixty-fifth psalm: “Let all the earth adore Thee, o God, and sing to Thee; let it sing to Thy name, o Most High.” These words are sung on the feast because the three Magi were understood to represent all the ends of the known world, one from Asia, one from Africa and one from Europe. Although this tradition concerning their number and origin was almost universally accepted in the Middle Ages, and the connection with the Epiphany is fairly obvious, the liturgical writers of the era also knew of a curious story concerning the origin of this introit. It is recounted thus by Sicard of Cremona:

It is said that Augustus Caesar decreed for the glory of the Roman Empire, that from each city of the world someone should come to Rome, bearing as much earth as can be held in one hand, so that by this it might be clear that all were subject to the Roman Empire… and from this earth (terra) there arose a small mountain, upon which a church was later built, and dedicated on this Sunday. Therefore, on its dedication is sung “Let all the earth adore Thee.” (Mitrale V, 11)

The modern reader should be aware that medieval authors often use a phrase like “It is said…” to indicate a story which may not be altogether reliable. However, there is in fact an artificial mountain in Rome, the Mons Testaceus (“Monte Testaccio” in Italian), a heap of discarded potsherds near the location of some warehouses of the ancient city; it is well over a hundred feet high, probably even higher in antiquity, and more than half a mile around at the base. It is easily seen to be a man-made structure, and the medieval mind perhaps found it difficult to imagine that such an achievement of engineering could be anything so prosaic as a garbage dump; hence the story.

A view of the Mons Testaceus in the 19th century.