This is the first letter to Gregory which has come down to us; it may or
may not have been the first which Catherine wrote him. That she had had
relations with him earlier seems fairly certain. As early as 1372 we find
her writing to Gerard du Puy, a relative of the Pope and Papal Legate in
Tuscany. This letter is evidently a reply, and contains passages which she
apparently expected du Puy to share with Gregory. Perhaps Gregory had made
approaches to her through his cousin. There was nothing unlikely at that
time in such action on the part of a great churchman, who, man of the
world though he was, retained a sincere reverence for humble men and
women.
Be this as it may, Catherine in her letter to Gerard du Puy writes
concerning the condition of the Church in the strain of indignant sorrow
which she was to hold till her death: "In reply to the first of the three
things you ask me, I will say that I believe that our sweet Christ on
earth should do away entirely with two things which ravage the Bride of
Christ. The first is the over-great tenderness and care for relatives,
which ought to be entirely mortified. The other is that over-great good
nature which is founded on too great mercy.... Christ holds three vices as
especially evil--impurity, avarice, and swollen pride, which reign in the
Bride of Christ among the prelates, who care for nothing but luxuries and
honours and vast riches. A strong justice is needed to correct them, for
too great pity is the greatest cruelty. As to the other question, I say:
When I told you that you should toil for Holy Church, I was not thinking
only of the labours you should assume about temporal things, but chiefly
that you and the Holy Father ought to toil and do what you can to get rid
of the wolfish shepherds who care for nothing but eating and fine palaces
and big horses. Oh me, that which Christ won upon the wood of the Cross is
spent with harlots! I beg that if you were to die for it, you tell the
Holy Father to put an end to such iniquities. And when the time comes to
make priests or cardinals, let them not be chosen through flatteries or
moneys or simony; but beg him, as far as you can, that he notice well if
virtue and a good and holy fame are found in the man; and let him not
prefer a gentleman to a tradesman, for virtue is the thing that makes a
man gentle." Savonarola could hardly say more.
This present letter must date from 1375, for the rebellion of the Tuscan
cities was gathering when she wrote. It is evident that Catherine at the
time had never met the Pope personally. She must, however, have gained
from hearsay a fairly just idea of his character; in the letter--one of
the most carefully composed which we have from her--we see her approaching
him with frankness, dignity, and courage, and also with a rare degree of
tact. It was one thing to speak her mind out through Gerard du Puy: it
must have been another to speak directly to the Head of Christendom. How
Catherine acquits herself the reader may judge. The hint that the "sweet
Christ on earth," the father of the faithful, lacks self-knowledge, is
made so delicately that offence could not be taken; yet as she proceeds
the indirect suggestion becomes unmistakable. Gregory is that weak prelate
in whom through self-indulgence holy justice is dead or dying; the smooth,
peaceable man, who to avoid incurring displeasure, shuts his eyes to the
corruption of the Church and the sins of her priests; he is the indolent
physician who anoints when he should cauterize. As soon as she deems his
mind prepared, comes the direct statement: "I hope by the goodness of God,
venerable father mine, that you will quench this [self-love] in yourself,
and will not love yourself for your own sake, nor your neighbour, nor
God." Nor does she shrink from more specific mention of the dangers which
beset him, in his devotion to the interests of "friends and parents," and
considerations of temporal policy.
It is with relief, here as ever, that Catherine passes from criticism
implied or explicit to a strain of high enthusiasm by which she tries to
rouse the soul to all of latent manhood it may possess. She heartens
Gregory with stirring appeal to the memories of his great predecessors--
yet more with impassioned reminder of that mystery of divine love and
sacrifice from which their strength was drawn. All that was possible to
them is possible to him, "for the same God is now that was then." "And if
up to this time we have not stood very firm," she says--associating
herself, as usual, with the weakness she would condemn--"I wish and pray
in truth that you deal manfully with the moment of time which remains,
following Christ, whose vicar you are." Gentle encouragement, and a
curious tone of almost maternal tenderness, pervade the rest of the
letter. In dealing with the political situation which Gregory confronted,
Catherine speaks without reserve. The suggestions concerning practical
matters with which the letter closes are lucid and to the point.
Altogether, it is a masterly document which the daughter of Jacopo
Benincasa despatches to the Head of Christendom. Reading it, one finds no
difficulty in understanding the influence which, as the sequel shows, she
established over the sensitive and religious if weak spirit of Gregory XI.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
To you, most reverend and beloved father in Christ Jesus, your unworthy,
poor, miserable daughter Catherine, servant and slave of the servants of
Jesus Christ, writes in His precious Blood; with desire to see you a
fruitful tree, full of sweet and mellow fruits, and planted in fruitful
earth--for if it were out of the earth the tree would dry up and bear no
fruit--that is, in the earth of true knowledge of yourself. For the soul
that knows itself humbles itself, because it sees nothing to be proud of;
and ripens the sweet fruit of very ardent charity, recognizing in itself
the unmeasured goodness of God; and aware that it is not, it attributes
all its being to Him who Is. Whence, then, it seems that the soul is
constrained to love what God loves and to hate what He hates.
Oh, sweet and true knowledge, which dost carry with thee the knife of
hate, and dost stretch out the hand of holy desire, to draw forth and kill
with this hate the worm of self-love--a worm that spoils and gnaws the
root of our tree so that it cannot bear any fruit of life, but dries up,
and its verdure lasts not! For if a man loves himself, perverse pride,
head and source of every ill, lives in him, whatever his rank may be,
prelate or subject. If he is lover of himself alone--that is, if he loves
himself for his own sake and not for God--he cannot do other than ill, and
all virtue is dead in him. Such a one is like a woman who brings forth her
sons dead. And so it really is; for he has not had the life of charity in
himself, and has cared only for praise and self-glory, and not for the
name of God. I say, then: if he is a prelate, he does ill, because to
avoid falling into disfavour with his fellow-creatures--that is, through
self-love--in which he is bound by self-indulgence--holy justice dies in
him. For he sees his subjects commit faults and sins, and pretends not to
see them and fails to correct them; or if he does correct them, he does it
with such coldness and lukewarmness that he does not accomplish anything,
but plasters vice over; and he is always afraid of giving displeasure or
of getting into a quarrel. All this is because he loves himself. Sometimes
men like this want to get along with purely peaceful means. I say that
this is the very worst cruelty which can be shown. If a wound when
necessary is not cauterized or cut out with steel, but simply covered with
ointment, not only does it fail to heal, but it infects everything, and
many a time death follows from it.
Oh me, oh me, sweetest "Babbo" mine! This is the reason that all the
subjects are corrupted by impurity and iniquity. Oh me, weeping I say it!
How dangerous is that worm we spoke of! For not only does it give death to
the shepherd, but all the rest fall into sickness and death through it.
Why does that shepherd go on using so much ointment? Because he does not
suffer in consequence! For no displeasure visits one and no ill will, from
spreading ointment over the sick; since one does nothing contrary to their
will; they wanted ointment, and so ointment is given them. Oh, human
wretchedness! Blind is the sick man who does not know his own need, and
blind the shepherd-physician, who has regard to nothing but pleasing, and
his own advantage--since, not to forfeit it, he refrains from using the
knife of justice or the fire of ardent charity! But such men do as Christ
says: for if one blind man guide the other, both fall into the ditch. Sick
man and physician fall into hell. Such a man is a right hireling shepherd,
for, far from dragging his sheep from the hands of the wolf, he devours
them himself. The cause of all this is, that he loves himself apart from
God: so he does not follow sweet Jesus, the true Shepherd, who has given
His life for His sheep. Truly, then, this perverse love is perilous for
one's self and for others, and truly to be shunned, since it works too
much harm to every generation of people. I hope by the goodness of God,
venerable father mine, that you will quench this in yourself, and will not
love yourself for yourself, nor your neighbour for yourself, nor God; but
will love Him because He is highest and eternal Goodness, and worthy of
being loved; and yourself and your neighbour you will love to the honour
and glory of the sweet Name of Jesus. I will, then, that you be so true
and good a shepherd that if you had a hundred thousand lives you would be
ready to give them all for the honour of God and the salvation of His
creatures. O "Babbo" mine, sweet Christ on earth, follow that sweet
Gregory (the Great)! For all will be possible to you as to him; for he was
not of other flesh than you; and that God is now who was then: we lack
nothing save virtue, and hunger for the salvation of souls. But there is a
remedy for this, father: that we flee the love spoken of above, for
ourselves and every creature apart from God. Let no more note be given to
friends or parents or one's temporal needs, but only to virtue and the
exaltation of things spiritual. For temporal things are failing you from
no other cause than from your neglect of the spiritual.
Now, then, do we wish to have that glorious hunger which these holy and
true shepherds of the past have felt, and to quench in ourselves that fire
of self-love? Let us do as they, who with fire quenched fire; for so great
was the fire of inestimable and ardent charity that burned in their hearts
and souls, that they were an-hungered and famished for the savour of
souls. Oh, sweet and glorious fire, which is of such power that it
quenches fire, and every inordinate delight and pleasure and all love of
self; and this love is like a drop of water, which is swiftly consumed in
the furnace! Should one ask me how men attained that sweet fire and
hunger--inasmuch as we are surely in ourselves unfruitful trees--I say
that those men grafted themselves into the fruitful tree of the most holy
and sweet Cross, where they found the Lamb, slain with such fire of love
for our salvation as seems insatiable. Still He cries that He is athirst,
as if saying: "I have greater ardour and desire and thirst for your
salvation than I show you with My finished Passion." O sweet and good
Jesus! Let pontiffs shame them, and shepherds, and every other creature,
for our ignorance and pride and self-indulgence, in the presence of so
great largess and goodness and ineffable love on the part of our Creator!
He has revealed Himself to us in our humanity, a Tree full of sweet and
mellow fruits, in order that we, wild trees, might graft ourselves in Him.
Now in this wise wrought that enamoured Gregory, and those other good
shepherds: knowing that they had no virtue in themselves, and gazing upon
the Word, our Tree, they grafted themselves in Him, bound and chained by
the bands of love. For in that which the eye sees does it delight, when
the thing is fair and good. They saw, then, and seeing they so bound them
that they saw not themselves, but saw and tasted everything in God. And
there was neither wind nor hail nor demons nor creatures that could keep
them from bearing cultivated fruits: since they were grafted in the
substance of our Tree, Jesus. They brought forth their fruits, then, from
the substance of sweet charity, in which they were united. And there is no
other way.
This is what I wish to see in you. And if up to this time, we have not
stood very firm, I wish and pray in truth that the moment of time which
remains be dealt with manfully, following Christ, whose vicar you are,
like a strong man. And fear not, father, for anything that may result from
those tempestuous winds that are now beating against you, those decaying
members which have rebelled against you. Fear not; for divine aid is near.
Have a care for spiritual things alone, for good shepherds, good rulers,
in your cities--since on account of bad shepherds and rulers you have
encountered rebellion. Give us, then, a remedy; and comfort you in Christ
Jesus, and fear not. Press on, and fulfil with true zeal and holy what you
have begun with a holy resolve, concerning your return, and the holy and
sweet crusade. And delay no longer, for many difficulties have occurred
through delay, and the devil has risen up to prevent these things being
done, because he perceives his own loss. Up, then, father, and no more
negligence! Raise the gonfalon of the most holy Cross, for with the
fragrance of the Cross you shall win peace. I beg you to summon those who
have rebelled against you to a holy peace, so that all warfare may be
turned against the infidels. I hope by the infinite goodness of God that
He will swiftly send His aid. Comfort you, comfort you, and come, come, to
console the poor, the servants of God, your sons! We await you with eager
and loving desire. Pardon me, father, that I have said so many words to
you. You know that through the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh.
I am certain that if you shall be the kind of tree I wish to see you,
nothing will hinder you.
I beg you to send to Lucca and to Pisa with fatherly proposals, as God
shall instruct you, supporting them so far as can be, and summoning them
to remain firm and persevering. I have been at Pisa and at Lucca, up to
now, influencing them as much as I can not to make a league with the
decaying members that are rebelling against you: but they are in great
perplexity, because they have no comfort from you, and are constantly
urged to make it and threatened from the contrary side. However, up to the
present time, they have not wholly consented. I beg you also to write
emphatically to Messer Piero: and do it zealously, and do not delay. I say
no more.
I have heard here that you have appointed the cardinals. I believe that it
would honour God and profit us more if you would take heed always to
appoint virtuous men. If the contrary is done, it will be a great insult
to God, and disaster to Holy Church. Let us not wonder later if God sends
us His disciplines and scourges; for the thing is just. I beg you to do
what you have to do manfully and in the fear of God.
I have heard that you are to promote the Master of our Order to another
benefice. Therefore I beg you, by the love of Christ crucified, that if
this is so you will take pains to give us a good and virtuous Vicar. The
Order has need of it, for it has run altogether too wild. You can talk of
this with Messer Niccola da Osimo and the Archbishop of Tronto; and I will
write them about it.
Remain in the sweet and holy grace of God. I ask you humbly for your
blessing. Pardon my presumption, that I presume to write to you. Sweet
Jesus, Jesus Love.