ON

MODESTY
AND
MORTIFICATION

© Our Lady of the Rosary Library

For the salvation of souls, you are encouraged to reproduce and distribute this article but
Taken from the Autobiography of
please, DO NOT ALTER its contents. St. Anthony Mary Claret
Visit www.olrl.org for more information and other articles.
ON MODESTY AND MORTIFICATION
Taken from the Autobiography of St. Anthony Mary Claret
St. Anthony Mary Claret wrote his autobiography reluctantly and only under
obedience to his religious superiors. This chapter out of his book details the
apostolic techniques which proved so successful in saving souls. Our Lord told
him several times: "Give me blood (mortification) and I will give you spirit."
St. Anthony resolved never to waste a moment of time and during his 35 years as
a priest, he wrote 144 books and preached some 25,000 sermons. On one trip,
besides traveling, he preached 205 sermons in 48 days – 12 in one day. Giving the
reason he worked so zealously, he wrote: "If you were to see a blind man about to
fall into a pit or over a precipice, would you not warn him? Behold, I do the same
and do it I must, for this is my duty. I must warn sinners and make them see the
precipice which leads to the unquenchable fires of Hell, for they will surely go
there if they do not amend their ways. Woe to me if I do not preach and warn
them, for I would be held responsible for their condemnation."
Besides working numerous miracles throughout his priestly life, St. Anthony
Mary possessed the gifts of prophecy and discernment of hearts. Often Our Lord
and Our Lady would appear to him. Once Our Lord told him that three great
judgments would soon descend upon the world: 1. Protestantism and Commu-
nism; 2. The love of pleasures and money and independence of reason and will; 3.
Great wars with their horrible consequences. He boldly proclaimed: "The sole
reason why society is perishing is because it has refused to hear the word of the
Church, which is the word of God. All plans for salvation will be sterile if the great
word of the Catholic Church is not restored in all its fullness."
Here are his words on mortification:
The missionary is a spectacle to God, to the Angels, and to men. For
this reason, he must be very circumspect and prudent in all his words,
works, and ways. To this effect, I resolved that my conduct both at home
and away from it, should be to talk very little, and to weigh every word I
uttered, because people not infrequently take words to mean other than
the speaker intends them to mean.
When talking to others, I proposed never to make gestures with my
hands. In some places this is strongly ridiculed and looked upon as
displeasing. My constant intention was always to speak sparingly, and
that only when necessary. I resolved to speak briefly, and in a quiet and
grave manner, without touching my face, chin, head, and much less my
nose. I determined also never to make grimaces with my mouth, or to
utter any funny or ridiculous statement, and never to ridicule anyone,
because I saw that by doing these things, the missionary loses much of
the authority, respect and veneration which is his due. All this is the
2 11
consolation yet who suffer in silence and persevere in Thy love, O my
Lord -- these are Thy loved ones, and the ones who please Thee most and
whom Thou dost esteem most.
Thus I have resolved never to excuse or defend myself when others
censure, calumniate and persecute me, because I would be the loser
before God and men. I realize this because my calumniators and persecu-
tors would make use of the truths and reasons I would bring forward in
order to oppose me still further.
I believe that all my crosses come from God. Furthermore, God's will
in my regard is that I suffer with patience and for the love of Him all
pains of body and soul, as well as those persecutions directed against my
honor. It is my firm belief that I shall be thus doing what will be for the
greater glory of God, for I shall then be suffering in silence, like Jesus,
Who died on the Cross abandoned by all.
To labor and to suffer for the one we love is the greatest proof of our
love.
God was made man for us. But what kind of man? How was He born?
How did He live? Yes, and what a death He endured! Ego sum vermis et non
homo, et abjectio plebis—I am a worm and no man, and the outcast of the people.
Jesus is God and Man, but His Divinity did not help His Humanity in His
crosses and sufferings, just as the souls of the just in heaven do not help
their bodies which rot under the earth.
In a very special manner God helped the martyrs in their sufferings,
but this same God abandoned Jesus in His crosses and torments, so that
He was indeed a Man of Sorrows. The body of Our Lord was most deli-
cately formed, and therefore more sensitive to pain and suffering. Well,
then, who is capable of forming an idea of how much Jesus suffered? All
His life, suffering was ever present. How much did He have to suffer for
our love! Ah, what pains He underwent, so long-enduring and intense!
O Jesus, Love of my life, I know and realize that pains, sorrows and
labors are the lot of the apostolate, but with the help of Thy grace I
embrace them. I have had my share of them, and now I can say that by
Thy aid, my Lord and my Father, I am ready to drain this chalice of
interior trials and am resolved to receive this baptism of exterior
suffering. My God, far be it from me to glory in anything save in the
cross, upon which Thou wert once nailed for me. And I, dear Lord, wish
to be nailed to the cross for Thee. So may it be. Amen.
• If he does it so as to help the poor, it will be an act of mercy.
• If he mortifies himself for the sake of pleasing God more and more, it will be an
act of love of God.
In other words, I shall be able to put all these virtues into practice in
one act of mortification, according to the end I propose to myself while
doing the said act.
Virtue has so much more merit, is more resplendent, charming and
attractive, when accompanied by greater sacrifice.
Man, who is vile, weak, mean, cowardly, never makes a sacrifice,
and is not even capable of doing so, for he never resists even one
appetite or desire. Everything that his concupiscence and passions
demand, he concedes, if it is in his power to yield or reject, for he is base
and cowardly, and lets himself be conquered and completely overcome,
just as the braver of two fighters conquers the cowardly one. So it is with
vice and the vicious—the latter is crushed and the slave of his vices.
Continence and chastity are therefore worthy of the highest praise,
because the man who practices purity refrains from the pleasure which
proceeds from nature or passion. Thus, the greater merit will be his the
greater the pleasure he has denied himself. His merit will be the greater
in proportion to the amount of repugnance he will have in conquering
himself, in proportion to the intense and prolonged suffering he will
have to undergo, to the human respect he will have to vanquish, and to
the sacrifices he will have to make. Let him do all this and suffer all for
the love of virtue and for God's greater glory. As to my exterior deport-
ment, I proposed to myself modesty and recollection and in the interior
of my soul my aim was continual and ardent occupation in God. In my
work I aimed at patience, silence and suffering. The exact accomplish-
ment of the law of God and of the Church, the obligations of my state of
life as prescribed by God. I tried to do good to others, flee from sin, faults
and imperfections, and to practice virtue.
All disagreeable, painful and humiliating happenings I considered as
coming from God and ordered by Him for my own good. Even now, as I
think of it, I fix my mind on God when such things occur, bowing in
silence and with resignation to His most holy will; for I remember that
Our Lord has said that not even a hair of our head shall fall without the
will of our heavenly Father, Who loves us so much.
I know that three hundred years of faithful service to God are paid,
and more than paid, when I am permitted an hour of suffering, so great
is its value. O my Jesus and my Master, Thy servants who suffer tribula-
tion, persecution, and abandonment by friends, who are crucified by
exterior labors and by interior crosses, who are deprived of all spiritual
10
result of fickleness, scant mortification, and little modesty. These habits
and similar coarseness of manners manifest little or no education on the
part of their possessors.
The missioner must also be at peace with all as St. Paul says. Now,
with this in mind, I never scolded anyone, but tried to be kind to all. I
endeavored also never to pass funny remarks about anyone, nor did I
like to indulge in any form of buffoonery or mockery at another's
expense. Laughing did not appeal to me, although I always manifested
joy, gentleness and kindness in my person, for I remembered that Jesus
was never seen to laugh, although He was seen weeping on some occa-
sions. Those words also helped me determine my conduct: "Stultus in risu
exaltat vocem suam; vir autem sapiens vix tacite ridebit—The fool raises his
voice in laughter, but the wise man will scarcely laugh in silence."
Modesty, as we all know, is that virtue which teaches us how to do
all things in the right way. It sets before our eyes how Jesus did things,
and it tells us to do the same. So, before each action that I was about to
do, I always asked myself, and still do, how Jesus Christ would do it. What
care, purity and rectitude of intention should I have if I were to act like
my Divine Model! How He preached; how He conversed; how He ate and
rested; how He dealt with all manner of people; how He prayed; in fine,
all His ways of doing things, were the sum and substance of my constant
meditation and efforts, for with God's grace I determined to imitate Our
Lord in everything, so as to be able to say with the Apostle, if not by
word of mouth, then by my works: "Be ye imitators of me as I am of Christ."
I understood, O God, that if the missionary is to gather fruit in his
ministry, it is essential for him to be not only irreproachable, but also in
all places a man of virtue. People respect much more that which they see
in a missionary than what they hear about him. This is proved by those
words concerning Our Lord, the Model Missionary: "Coepit facere et
docere." First of all He did things, then He taught afterwards.
Thou knowest, O my God, the number of times that in spite of all my
resolutions I have failed against holy modesty. Thou wilt surely know if
some have been scandalized by my lack of observance of this virtue. My
Lord, if such be the case, I beg Thy pardon and mercy. I give Thee my
word that, putting into practice the words of the Apostle, I will do my
best to make my modesty known to all men. I promise that my modesty
shall be like that of Jesus Christ, as St. Paul exhorts so strongly, and that I
will imitate the humble St. Francis of Assisi who preached by his
modesty, and converted many people by his good example. O my Lord
Jesus, Love of my heart. I love Thee, and wish to draw all men to Thy
most holy love!
3
 Without mortification I knew that modesty was impossible. There-
fore I endeavored with the utmost determination to acquire this virtue
of self-denial, cost what it might, yet always relying on the help of God's
grace.
In the first place, I resolved to deprive myself of all taste or preference,
and to give it to God. Without knowing how, I felt myself obliged to fulfill
what was only of precept. My understanding was confronted with an
inevitable alternative; either I should cater to my own taste or to God's.
Now, as my understanding saw this gross inequality even though in such
a small matter as this, I felt myself obliged to follow the good pleasure of
God. Therefore, I willingly denied myself innocent and legitimate
pleasures in order to have all my taste and gratification in God. I follow
this rule even now in all things, in regard to meals, drink, sleep, in
talking, looking, listening, and going to any part of the country, etc...
The grace of God has helped me a great deal in the practice of morti-
fication, for I know that this habit of denying oneself is indispensably
necessary to make one's work for souls fruitful, as well as one's prayer
pleasing to God Our Lord.
In a very special manner have the examples of Jesus and Mary and
the Saints encouraged me in this practice of mortification. I read
assiduously the Lives of the Saints to see how they were wont to deny
themselves, and I have made special notes which regulate my personal
conduct. Singular among them must be mentioned St. Bernard, St. Peter
of Alcantara, and St. Philip of Neri, of whom I have read that after having
been for thirty years the confessor of a Roman lady renowned for her
rare beauty, he still did not know her by sight.
I can say with certainty that I know the many women who come to
confession to me more by their voice than by their features, because I
never look at any woman's face. In their presence I blush and turn red.
Not that the looking at them causes me temptations, for I do not have
them, thanks be to God, but the fact still remains that I always blush,
even though I cannot explain why. I might mention here that I naturally
and in an entirely unaccountable manner keep in mind and observe that
oft-repeated admonition of the holy Fathers, which goes: Sermo rigidus et
brevis cum muliere est habendus et oculos humi dejectos habe—Speech with
women must be serious and brief, while the eyes must be cast on the ground. I
know not how to hold a conversation with a woman, no matter how good
she may be. In few and grave words I tell her what she must know, and
then immediately I dismiss her without looking to see if she be rich or
poor, beautiful or ugly.
When I was giving missions in Catalonia, I stayed at the rectories of
those parishes in which I gave missions. During all that time I do not
4 9
and wearing the cilice on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. If, how-
ever, I found that circumstances of time and place did not favor these
modes of penance, I used to practice some other form of mortification, as
for example: praying with the arms stretched out in the form of a cross,
or with the fingers under the knees. I know very well that worldly people
and those who have not the spirit of Jesus Christ make little of, and even
disapprove of, these mortifications. But for my part, I keep in mind the
teaching laid down by St. John of the Cross which states: "If anyone affirms
that one can reach perfection without practicing exterior mortification, do not
believe him; and even though he confirm this assertion by working miracles,
know that his contentions are nothing but illusions."
As for me, I look to St. Paul for my example, for he mortified him-
self, and said publicly: "Castigo corpus meum et in servitutem redigo, ne forte
cum aliis praedicaverim ipse reprobus efficiar—I chastise my body and bring it
into subjection, lest perhaps when I have preached to others I myself may become
a castaway." All the saints until now have done in like manner. Venerable
Rodriquez says that the Blessed Virgin said to St. Elizabeth of Hungary,
that no spiritual grace comes to the soul, commonly speaking, except by
way of prayer and bodily afflictions. There is an old principle which goes:
"Da mihi sanguinem et dabo tibi spiritum." Woe to those who are enemies of
mortification and of the cross of Christ!
In one act of mortification one can practice many virtues, according
to the different ends which one proposes in each act, as for example:
• He who mortifies his body for the purpose of checking concupiscence,
performs an act of the virtue of temperance.
• If he does this, purposing thereby to regulate his life well, it will be an act of
the virtue of prudence.
• If he mortifies himself for the purpose of satisfying for the sins of his past life,
it will be an act of justice.
• If he does it with the intention of conquering the difficulties of the spiritual
life, it will be an act of fortitude.
• If he practices this virtue of mortification for the end of offering a sacrifice to
God, depriving himself of what he likes, and doing that which is bitter and
repugnant to nature, it will be an act of the virtue of religion.
• If he intends by mortification to receive greater light to know the divine
attributes, it will be an act of faith.
• If he does it for the purpose of making his salvation more and more secure, it
will be an act of hope.
• If he denies himself in order to help in the conversion of sinners, and for the
release of the poor souls in purgatory, it will be an act of charity towards his
neighbor.
came to welcome them, but finding the priests eating, the people lost
their esteem for them, so much so that those missionaries were unable
to make any headway in that town. So the story goes at any rate,
although I do not know how it originated. All I know is, that it was as a
confirmation of what had been told me by Jesus and Mary.
My experience has taught me that mortification is very edifying in a
missionary. Even now it stands me in good stead. In the Palace here at
Madrid, banquets are held frequently, while before they were even more
frequent. I am always invited to them, but if it is possible, I excuse
myself. If I cannot possibly excuse myself from attending, I go to them,
but always eat less than usual on those festive occasions. It is my custom
then to take only a little soup and a small piece of fruit; nothing else—no
wine, no water. Of course, all look at me and are highly edified. Before I
came to Madrid, as I am led to understand, disorders were rampant
everywhere. Indeed, this could be easily gathered. So many rich and
sumptuous dishes, exquisite meals, and so much wine of all kinds decked
the tables, that inducements to excess were not wanting. But since the
time that I was obliged to take part in the banquets, I have not noticed
the slightest excess; on the contrary, it appears to me that the guests
refrain from taking what they need, because they see me not eating.
Often at the table, those guests sitting on both sides talk to me of
spiritual subjects, and even ask the name of the church in which I hear
confessions, so as to come there themselves and confess their sins.
In order to edify my neighbor more and more, I have always refrained
from smoking and taking snuff. Never have I said, or even hinted, that
one thing pleases me more than the other. I have done this for as long as
I can remember. Our Lord had so bestowed upon me this heavenly
blessing of indifference that my dear mother (requiescat in pace) died
without knowing what things I liked most. As she loved me so very
much, she would try to please me by asking if I would like to have certain
things in preference to other things. I would answer that I was pleased
most of all by whatever she chose and gave me. But this reply would not
be enough, for she would add: "I know that very well, but we always like some
things more than others." To this I would respond that whatever she gave
me was the thing I liked most of all. I naturally had inclinations for what
suited me best, as we all have; but the spiritual satisfaction I had in doing
another's will was so great that it surpassed the natural satisfaction
resulting from doing my own will. Thus, I told the truth when I assured
my mother that her will was my greatest pleasure.
Besides denying self in regard to sight, hearing, speaking, in the
senses of taste and smell, I tried also to perform some acts of mortifica-
tion, such as taking the discipline on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays,
8 5
remember having looked at the face of any woman, whether she happened
to be the housekeeper, the servant, or the relative of the parish-priest.
Once it happened that after some time I returned to Vich, or some other
town, and I was accosted by a lady who said to me: "Anthony Claret, don't
you know me? I am the housekeeper of such and such a priest in whose parish
you were for so many days giving a mission." but I did not recognize her;
neither did I look at her. With my gaze fixed on the ground, I asked her:
"And how is his Reverence the pastor?"
What is more, I shall relate another instance which could not have
been so, had I not received very special graces from heaven. While I was
in the island of Cuba, for six years and two months to be exact, I confirmed
more than 300,000 persons, the majority of whom were women, and
young ones at that. If any one were to ask me what are the characteris-
tics of the Cuban women's features, I would say that I do not know,
despite the fact that I have confirmed so many of them. In order to
administer the Sacrament of Confirmation, I had to look where their
foreheads were, and this I did in a rapid glance, after which I shut my
eyes and kept them shut all during the administration of the Sacrament.
Besides this blushing that was natural to me when in the presence
of women, and which hindered me from looking at them, there was
another reason which prompted me to adhere to this mode of conduct.
It was the desire to profit souls. I remember having read years ago of a
famous preacher who went to preach in a certain town. His preaching
turned out to be very fruitful, and all the townsfolk were lavish in their
praise of him. "Oh, what a saint!" said they. Yet there was one exception of
all these praises, and it came from a wicked man who said: "Perhaps he is
a saint, but I can tell you one thing, and it is this: he likes women a great
deal, for he was staring at them." This single expression was enough in itself
to decrease the prestige which the good preacher had merited in that
town, and not only that, but it brought to naught all the fruit which his
preaching had produced.
Incidentally, I have also noticed that people form a poor opinion of a
priest who does not mortify his eyes. Of Jesus Christ I read that He was
always mortified and modest in regard to His looks, for the Evangelists
have accounted as an extraordinary occurrence each time He lifted up
His eyes.
The hearing was another faculty which I tried to mortify continually,
especially disliking to listen to superfluous conversations and idle words.
I could never suffer or tolerate those conversations which were detri-
mental to charity. If I happened to be present at one of them, I would
either withdraw or refrain from taking part in it, or I would show my
disapproval by the sad expression of my face. This distaste applied also
to conversations about food, drink, riches, or any worldly topic, including
political news. Neither did I care to read newspapers, for I should prefer
to read a chapter of the Holy Bible wherein I know for sure that what I
read is true. In newspapers, as a general rule, one finds only a great deal
of lies and useless reading.
It was my constant aim to deny myself in regard to speaking. Just as
I have said that I dislike to hear useless things, so also in the same way I
hated to talk of useless nothings. My resolution also embraced my keeping
quiet about my sermons. I resolved never to talk of my sermons after
their delivery. Since I myself was repelled by others talking of what they
delivered, I concluded that others would be displeased with me if I, too,
talked about my sermons. Thus, my fixed resolve was never to mention
my sermons after delivering them, to do my very best in the pulpit, and
to recommend all to God. If anyone gave me advice about my preaching,
I received it with sincere gratitude and without excusing myself or
explaining my views on the matter. I tried to amend and correct myself
as much as possible.
I have observed before now that some people behave like hens
which cackle after they lay their eggs, and thus are deprived of them.
The same happens to some priests of little prudence, who, as soon as
they have done some good work, such as hearing confession, or delivering
a sermon or lecture, go in search of the baubles of vanity by speaking so
smugly of what they have done and what they have said. Just as the
hearing of this repels me, I conclude that I would repel others if I were to
talk of the very same subjects. Thus, I have made it an inflexible rule
never to speak of what I have done.
The subject which was most repugnant to me was the talking of
things heard in confession, not only because of the danger involved in
breaking the sacramental seal of confession, but also because of the bad
effect produced on such people as may happen to hear anything of this
nature. In view of these facts, I resolved on no account to speak of persons
and their affairs in relation to confession, whether they had not been to
confession for a long or short time, whether they had made a general
confession or not, in a word, to say absolutely nothing of these affairs. I
disliked hearing of priests who spoke of those who had gone to confession
to them, what they had confessed and how long it had been since they
had absented themselves from that sacrament of reconciliation. If any
priest came to consult me about certain problems encountered in the
confessional, I could not bear to hear him using the words: "I find myself
in such a situation, with such a case; what shall I do?" I would tell them
to recount their difficulties in the third person, as for example: "Let us
6 7
suppose that a confessor is confronted with such and such a case of a
certain nature. What steps should be taken?"
Our Lord gave me to understand that one of the things which would
be of the utmost utility to the missionary is the virtue of self-denial in
the matter of food and drink. The Italians have a saying which goes: "Not
much credit is given to saints who eat." People believe that missionaries
are more heavenly than earthly beings, that at least they are like unto
the saints of God who need not eat or drink. God Our Lord has given me a
very special grace in this regard, of going without eating, or eating very
little. There were three reasons in my case for not eating much. Firstly,
because I was unable to do so, not having an appetite, especially when I
had to preach very often or had to hear many confessions. At other times
I used to be somewhat hungry, but I did not eat even then, particularly
when I was traveling, for I would refrain from doing so in order to be
able to walk better. Finally, I would abstain from eating in order to edify,
for I observed that everybody was watching me. From this it can be gathered
that I ate very little, in spite of the fact that I was, at times, very hungry.
Whenever I did eat, I took what was given me, always however, in
small quantities, and food of inferior quality. If I happened to reach the
rectory of the parish at an unseasonable hour, I would tell the cook to
prepare only a little soup and an egg—nothing more. I never took meat;
not even now do I eat it, not because I do not like it, for I do, but because
I know that not taking it is most edifying. Neither did I take wine;
although I like it, it has been years since I have tasted it, excluding, of
course, the ablutions at Mass. The same may be said of liquor and spirits
of any kind; I never take them, although I am still fond of them, since I
used to take a little in years gone by. Abstaining from food and drink is a
source of edification, and is even necessary nowadays in order to
counteract the disgraceful excesses so prevalent in these times.
When I was in Segovia in the year 1859, on the 4th of September, at
4:25 in the morning, while I was at meditation, Jesus Christ said to me:
"You have to teach mortification in eating and drinking to your missionaries,
Anthony." A few minutes afterwards the Blessed Virgin told me: "By doing
this you will reap fruit in souls, Anthony."
At that time I was giving a mission in the cathedral of Segovia to the
clergy, the nuns, and the people of that city. One day while all were at
table it was mentioned that the former Bishop, a man of marked zeal,
had exhorted some priests to go and give missions—an exhortation
which they fulfilled to the letter. After having walked a fair distance,
these priests began to get so hungry and thirsty that they decided to
stop and have lunch, since they had brought some food and drink with
them. Meanwhile some people of the town to which they were going