"To Stefano di Corrado Maconi, her ignorant and most ungrateful son": "To
Stefano Maconi, her most ungrateful and unworthy son, when she was at
Rome": so run the superscriptions to these letters. Doubtless, they headed
copies made by the hand of Stefano himself. We have seen in connection
with Catherine's letters to his mother how constantly after their first
meeting this young disciple had been with her. Long before this, he had
become the best-beloved of the "Famiglia," and next to herself its most
important member. He did not, however, for some reason, accompany her to
Rome, and Catherine's heart yearned over him during the last weary months.
From the first, she had perceived in his frank and joyous temperament the
germs of high spiritual perfection, and had sought to draw him to the
monastic life. "Cut the bonds that hold thee, and do not merely loosen
them," she wrote in one of the first letters to Stefano that we possess:
"Resist no longer the Holy Spirit that is calling thee--for it will be
hard for thee to kick against Him. Do not let thyself be withheld by thine
own lukewarm heart, or by a womanish tenderness for thyself, but be a man,
and enter the battlefield manfully." Stefano, however, despite his
personal devotion to Catherine, felt for a long time no vocation for the
cloister. She continued, as we see in these letters, to urge him with
increasing insistence: but his hesitation was ended only by her death. He
hastened to Rome at the last, urgently summoned, in time to see her living
and to receive her last words. Her dying request did what her entreaties
during life had failed to do; the brilliant young noble became a
Carthusian monk. At a later time he was made General of the Order.
Devotion to the memory of Catherine was the inspiration of his life after
she left him.
The letters in this group were all written after Catherine had reached
Rome. They form a strong contrast to the more formal and elaborate
documents which she was at this time despatching to dignitaries,
concerning the ecclesiastical situation. Their serene spiritual fervour
bears witness to the "central peace" subsisting at the heart of the
"endless agitation" of her active life. In their intimate messages,
moreover, to home friends and disciples, they throw a charming light on
what may be called the domestic side of her character.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood: with desire
to see thee a true guardian of the city of thy soul. Oh, dearest son, this
city has many gates! They are three--Memory, Intellect, and Will, and our
Creator allows all of them to be battered, and sometimes opened by
violence, except one--that is, Will. So it happens at times that the
intellect sees nothing but shadows; the memory is occupied with vain and
transitory things, with many and varied reflections and impure thoughts;
and likewise all the sensations of the body are ill-regulated and
ravaging. So it is perfectly clear that no one of these gates is in our
own free possession, except only the Gate of Will. This belongs to our
liberties, and has for its Watch Free-will. And this gate is so strong
that nor demon nor creature can open it if the watch does not consent. And
while this gate is not open--that is, while it does not consent to what
Memory and Intellect and the other gates experience--our city keeps its
free privileges for ever. Let us, then, recognize, my son, let us
recognize so excellent a benefit and so unmeasured a largess of charity as
we have received from the Divine Goodness, that has put us in free
possession of so noble a city.
Let us strive to hold good and zealous watch, keeping at the side of our
Watch Free-will, the dog Conscience, who when anyone comes at the gate
must awake Reason by its barking, that she may discern whether it be
friend or foe: so that the watch may let friends enter, ordering good and
holy inspirations to do their work, and may drive away the foes, locking
the Gate of Will, that it consent not to admit the evil thoughts that come
to the gate every day. And when thy city shall be demanded of thee by the
Lord, thou canst give it up, sound, and adorned with true and royal
virtues, thanks to His grace. I say no more here.
As I wrote on the first day of the month to all the sons in common, we
arrived here on the first Sunday in Advent with much peace. Remain in the
holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood: with desire
to see thee risen above childishness, and become a manly man; risen from
enjoying the milk of consolations, mental and actual, and set to eat the
hard musty bread of many tribulations in mind and body, of conflicts with
devils and injuries from thy fellows, and of any other kind that God might
be pleased to grant thee. I desire to see thee rejoicing in such, and
hasting to meet them with kindling desire and sweet gratitude to the
divine goodness, when it may please Him to show thee such great gifts--
which will be whenever He shall see thee fit to receive them. Rouse thee,
my son, rouse thee from thy lukewarmness of heart; steep it in the Blood,
that it may burn in the furnace of divine charity, so that it may attain
to abominate all childish deeds, and be on fire to be all manful, to enter
on the battlefield to do great works for Christ crucified, fighting
manfully. For Paul says that none shall be crowned save such as have
manfully fought. So he who sees himself abide away from the Field has
cause for weeping. Now I say no more here.
I had thy letter, and saw it gladly. Concerning the affair of the
Proposal, I reply that thy disposition pleases me much; and we must be
glad of the sweet games that our sweet God plays with His creatures, to
persuade them to the end for which we were all created: so that when the
sweet medicine and ointment of consolations does not help, He sends us
tribulations, cauterizing the wound that it may not suppurate. I will
willingly take pains about thy affair, for the love of God and thy
salvation, as soon as these festivals and holy days are past.
I will try to obtain the Indulgences that thou askest me for with the
first I shall demand. I do not know when--for I have worn out the clerks
of the court. One must hold one's self a little back.
I am writing a letter to Matteo: give it to him. And comfort him, and go
to find him sometimes, to warm him up to the enterprise that is begun. I
have heard of the illness which God has sent ... and, considering his
need, I beg and constrain thee as much as I can that thou and thy brothers
bring it about that the Company of the Virgin Mary give him aid, as much
as thou canst get. Catarina is very much to be pitied, to find herself
alone and poor without any refuge; so be zealous to show this charity. I
am writing of this to Pietro, too. Let me perceive that you have not shown
any negligence.
I say no more to thee. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. All this
family comfort thee in Christ, and be the negligent and ungrateful writer
commended to thee. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood: with desire
to see thee cut thy bonds, and not simply set thyself to loosening them,
for it takes some time to loosen, and this thou art not sure of having, so
swiftly it passes from thee. It is better, then, to cut them thoroughly,
with a true and holy zeal. Oh, how blessed my soul will be when I shall
see that thou hast cut thyself off from the world in deed and thought, and
from thy own fleshly instincts, and hast united thyself to life eternal: a
union that is of such joy and sweetness and suavity that it quenches all
bitterness and renders light every heavy weight! Who, then, shall hold us
from drawing the sword of hate and love, and cutting self from self with
the hand of free will? As soon as this sword has cut, it is of such virtue
that it unites. But thou wilt say to me, dearest son: "Where is this sword
found and wrought?" I reply to thee, Thou findest it in the cell of self-
knowledge, where thou dost conceive hatred of thine own sin and frailty,
and love of thy Creator and thy neighbour, with true and sincere virtues.
Where is it wrought? In the fire of divine charity, on the anvil of the
Body of the sweet and loving Word, the Son of God. Then ignorant indeed,
and worthy of great rebuke, is he who has weapons in his possession to
defend himself with, and who throws them away.
I do not want thee to be of these ignorant people, but I want thee to
hasten in thy whole manhood, and respond to Mary, who calls thee with
greatest love. The blood of these glorious martyrs, buried here in Rome as
to the body, who gave blood and life with so fiery love for the love of
Life, is hot with longing, summoning thee and the others that you come to
suffer, for glory and praise of the Name of God and Holy Church, and for
the trial of your virtues. For to this Holy Land, wherein God revealed His
dignity, calling it His garden, He has called His servants, saying: "Now
is the time for them to come, to test the gold of virtue." Now let us not
play the deaf man. Were our ears stopped by cold, let us cleanse us in the
Blood, hot because it is mingled with fire, and all deafness shall be
taken away. Hide thee in the Wounds of Christ crucified; flee before the
world, leave thy father's house; flee into the refuge of the Side of
Christ crucified, that thou mayest come to the Land of Promise. This same
thing I say also to Pietro. Place you at the table of the Cross, and
there, refreshed by the Blood, take the food of souls, enduring pains and
shames, insults, ridicule, hunger, thirst, and nakedness: glorying, with
that sweet Paul the Chosen Vessel, in the shame of Christ crucified. If
thou shalt cut thee free, as I said, endurance shall be thy glory,
otherwise not, but it shall be a pain to thee, and thy shadow will make
thee afraid.
My soul, considering this, as an hungered for thy salvation. I desire to
see thee cut thyself free, and not set thyself to loosen, that thou mayest
run thee more swiftly. Clothe thee in the Blood of Christ crucified. I say
no more to thee. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God.
I had thy letters, and had great consolation from them, over Battista's
being healed, because I have hope that he will yet be a good plant, and
for the compassion I felt for Monna Giovanna. But I rejoiced very much
more that God has sent thee a way of extricating thyself from the world,
and also over the good disposition of which thou writest me, that the
Lords and our other citizens have toward our sweet "Babbo," Pope Urban VI.
May God by His infinite mercy preserve it, and increase ever their
reverence and obedience toward him. While thou and the others shall be
there, be zealous to sow the truth and confound falsehood as far as your
power extends.
Commend me closely to Monna Giovanna and Currado. Comfort also Battista
and the rest of the family. Comfort all those sons of mine, and tell them
also particularly to pardon me if I do not write to them, because it seems
somewhat difficult. Comfort Messer Matteo: tell him to send us word of
what he wants, first, because I have forgotten it, and Fra Raimondo went
away so soon that we could not get it from him. Then I will zealously do
all I can. And tell Frate Tommaso that I do not write to him because I do
not know whether he is there, but if he is there, comfort him, and tell
him to give me his blessing. Our Lisa and all the family commend
themselves to thee. Neri does not write thee because he has been at the
point of death; but now he is cured.
May God give thee His sweet eternal blessing. Tell Pietro to come here if
he can, for something that is of importance. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love!
Give all these letters, or have them given. And pray God for us. As to
these few letters bound by themselves, give them just as they are to Monna
Catarina di Giovanni, and let her distribute them.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to thee in His precious Blood: with desire
to see thee arise from the lukewarmness of thy heart, lest thou be spewed
from the mouth of God, hearing this rebuke, "Cursed are ye, the lukewarm!
Would you had at least been ice-cold!" This lukewarmness proceeds from
ingratitude, which comes from a faint light that does not let us see the
agonizing and utter love of Christ crucified, and the infinite benefits
received from Him. For in truth, did we see them, our heart would burn
with the flame of love, and we should be famished for time, using it with
great zeal for the honour of God and the salvation of souls. To this zeal
I summon thee, dearest son, that now we begin to work anew.
I send thee a letter that I am writing to the Lords, and one to the
Company of the Virgin Mary. See and understand them, and then give them;
and then ... And talk to them fully concerning this matter that is
contained in the letters, begging each of them, on behalf of Christ
crucified and me, that they deal zealously, just so far as they can, with
the Lords and whoever has to do with it, that the right thing may be done
in regard to Holy Church, and the Vicar of Christ, Urban VI. It weighs
upon me very much, for my part, that it should please them to have
confidence in this matter, for the honour of God, and the spiritual and
temporal profit of the city. Do thou be fervent and not tepid in this
activity, and in quickening thy brothers and elders of the Company to do
all they may in the affair of which I write. If you are what you ought to
be, you will set fire to all Italy, and not only yonder.
I say no more to thee. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Comfort
... all these, thy brothers, and thy sister, comfort thee in Christ, and
all are waiting for thee. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO CERTAIN HOLY HERMITS
WHO HAD BEEN INVITED TO ROME BY THE POPE
From early years, Catherine had cherished the simple-hearted desire that
the affairs of Christ's people be put in the hands of His truest
followers. Now, in this last period of her life, surrounded by the
corruption and intrigue of the papal court, her thoughts turned more and
more wistfully to the reserves of spiritual passion and insight that
lingered in the hearts of obscure "servants of God" living in monasteries
or in hermits' cells.
To invite these holy men to Rome--to gather them around Urban, and so show
by triumphant witness of those in nearest fellowship with God on which
side lay God's truth--was doubtless the political idea of a very unworldly
saint. Nevertheless, it commended itself to the Pope. At his request,
then, though probably by her own suggestion, Catherine wrote to sundry of
those eremites with whom she had long held spiritual converse, summoning
them to the Holy City. Her letters were a thrilling call to the champions
of Christ, to cast off timidity and indolence, and betake them swiftly to
the field where difficulties and troubles, and it might be a martyr's
death, was waiting them.
In the third of the letters that follow, Catherine gives a touching
picture of two bewildered hermits--Dominican "dogs of the lord" from the
gentle Umbrian plain--who obeyed the call. "Old men, and far from well,
who have lived such a long time in their peace," they have made the
laborious journey, and are now valiantly suppressing their homesickness,
and unsaying their involuntary complaints. But not all the hermits
summoned were equally docile. Visionary raptures could hardly be looked
for in the streets of the metropolis: dear was the seclusion of wood and
cell. Father William Flete, whom Catherine had always persisted in
admiring, despite his failings, flatly declined to stir; so did his
comrade, Brother Antonio. The Abbot of St. Antimo, another person for whom
she had always entertained a deep respect, although he came, appears from
her letters to have played the part of a coward.
We cannot be surprised if peaceable Religious who had lived their long
days in unbroken quiet objected to enter the unpleasant whirlpool of Roman
politics. A similar attitude on the part of eremites of culture is not
unknown to-day. But their refusal was a blow to Catherine. She could
hardly have drawn the natural conclusion that a recluse life unfitted men
to fight for practical righteousness, but she did feel deeply troubled.
From early youth she had been, as we have repeatedly seen, alive to the
dangers of selfishness and indolence peculiarly incident to the
contemplative life; at the same time she had firmly believed that, did the
flame of intercession only burn bright enough, this life might be
profoundly sacrificial. Now her best-beloved recluses did not stand the
test in the hour of trial, and their naif egotism disappointed her
unspeakably. Her grief, her amaze, her all but scathing contempt for a
religion that declined to forego its inward comforts even at the dramatic
summons of a crisis in the Church, find expression in these letters.
Doubtless the "great refusal" thus offered by men whom she had trusted
helped to darken her last months. Not even in the hearts of her intimates,
not even among the elect of God, was Catherine to find here on earth a
continuing city.
TO BROTHER WILLIAM OF ENGLAND AND BROTHER ANTONIO OF NIZZA
AT LECCETO
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest sons in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire
to see you so lose yourselves that you shall seek nor peace nor quiet
elsewhere than in Christ crucified, becoming an-hungered upon the table of
the Cross, for the honour of God, the salvation of souls, and the
reformation of Holy Church, whom to-day we see in so great need that to
help her one must come out from one's wood and renounce one's self. If one
sees that he can bear fruit in her, it is no time to stay still nor to
say, "I should forfeit my peace." For now that God has given us the grace
of providing Holy Church with a good and just shepherd, who delights in
the servants of God, and wishes them near him, and expects to be able to
purify the Church and uproot vices and plant virtues, without any fear of
man, since he bears himself like a just and manly man, we others ought to
help him. I shall perceive whether we have in truth conceived love for the
reformation of Holy Church; for if it is really so, you will follow the
will of God and of His Vicar, will come out of your wood, and make haste
to enter the battlefield. But if you do not do it, you will be in discord
with the will of God. Therefore I pray you, by the love of Christ
crucified, that you respond swiftly without delay to the request that the
Holy Father makes of you. And do not hesitate because of not having a
wood, for there are woods and forests here. Up, dearest sons, and sleep no
more, for it is time to watch! I say no more to you. Remain in the holy
and sweet grace of God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love! In Rome, on the fifteenth
day of December, 1378.
TO BROTHER ANDREA OF LUCCA TO BROTHER BALDO AND TO BROTHER LANDO
SERVANTS OF GOD IN SPOLETO, WHEN THEY WERE SUMMONED BY THE HOLY FATHER
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest fathers in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with
desire to see you eager and ready to do the will of God, in obedience to
His Vicar, Pope Urban VI., in order that by you and the other servants of
God help may be brought to His sweet Bride. For we see her in such bitter
straits that she is attacked on every side by contrary winds; and you see
that she is especially attacked by wicked men, lovers of themselves, by
the perilous and evil wind of heresy and schism, which can contaminate our
faith. Was she ever in so great a need as now, when those who ought to
help her have attacked her, and darkness is shed abroad by those whose
task it is to enlighten? They should nourish us with the food of souls,
ministering the Blood of Christ crucified which gives the life of grace;
and they drag it from men's mouths, ministering eternal death, like wolves
who feed not the flock, but devour them. And what shall the dogs do--the
servants of God, who are placed in the world as guardians, that they may
bark when they see the wolf come, to awaken the chief shepherd? What are
they to bark with? With humble and continual prayer, and with the living
voice. In this way they shall terrify the demons, visible and invisible,
and the heart and mind of our chief Shepherd, Pope Urban VI., shall
awaken; and when he shall be wakened, we do not doubt that the mystical
body of Holy Church and the universal body of the Christian religion shall
be helped, and the flock recovered, and saved from the hands of devils.
You ought not to draw back for any reason: not for suffering that you
expected, nor for shames nor persecution, nor ridicule that might be cast
at you; not for hunger, thirst, or death a thousand times were it
possible; not for desire of quiet, nor of your consolations, saying: "I
wish my soul's peace, and I can cry out in prayer before the face of God
(without going to Rome)"; nay, by the love of Christ crucified. For it is
not now the hour to seek one's self for one's self, nor to flee pains in
order to possess consolations; nay, it is the hour to lose one's self,
since the Infinite Goodness and Mercy of God has seen to the necessity of
Holy Church, and given her a just and good shepherd, who wishes to have
these dogs around him, which shall bark constantly for the honour of God;
fearing lest he sleep, and not trusting in his vigil, unless they are
always ready to bark to waken him. You are among those whom he has chosen.
Therefore I beg and constrain you in Christ sweet Jesus, that you come
swiftly, to fulfil the will of God, who wills thus, and the holy will of
the Vicar of Christ, that is calling you and the others.
You need not be afraid of luxuries or of great consolations; for you are
coming to endure, and not to enjoy yourselves, except with the joy of the
Cross. Lean your head out, and come forth into the Field, to fight
genuinely for truth; holding before the eye of your mind the persecution
wrought to the Blood of Christ, and the damnation of souls; in order that
we may be more inspired for the battle, so that we may look back for no
possible cause. Come, come! and do not linger, waiting for the hour, for
the hour does not wait us. I am sure that the Infinite Goodness of God
will make you know the truth. And yet I know that many, even among those
who are servants of God, will go to you and oppose this holy and good
work, thinking to speak well, in saying: "You will go, and nothing will be
done." And I, like a presumptuous woman, say that something will be done;
if our principal desire is not now to be fulfilled, at least the way will
be cleared. And even if nothing at all should be done, we have shown in
the sight of God and our fellow-men that we have done what we could; our
own conscience has been aroused and unburdened. So that it is well in any
case. The more opposition you shall have, the clearer sign it is to you
that this is a good and holy work; since as we have seen, and continue to
see constantly, great, holy, and good works meet more opposition than
little ones, because they have larger results; and therefore the devil
hinders them in every way he can, especially by means of the servants of
God, through obscure deceits, under colour of virtue. I have said this to
you in order that you should not give up coming for any reason, but should
present yourselves with prompt obedience at the feet of his Holiness.
Drown you in the Blood of Christ, and may our own will die in all things.
I say no more to you. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Commend
me to all the servants of God near you, that they may pray the Divine
Goodness to give me grace to lay down my life for His Truth. Sweet Jesus,
Jesus Love.
TO BROTHER ANTONIO OF NIZZA
OF THE HERMIT BROTHERS OF SAINT AUGUSTINE AT THE CONVENT OF LECCETO
NEAR SIENA
In the name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest son in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of the
servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with desire
to see you founded upon the Living Rock, Christ sweet Jesus, so that the
building you shall raise on it may never be overthrown by any contrary
wind that may strike you, but may endure wholly solid, firm, and stable,
even till your death upon the Way of Truth. Oh, how we need this true and
royal foundation--not known of my ignorance! for did I truly know it, I
should not build upon myself, who am worse than sand, but upon that Living
Rock I spoke of. Following Christ upon the way of shame and outrage and
insult, I should deprive me of every consolation from whatever source,
within or without, to conform myself with Him. I would not seek myself for
my own sake, but would care only for the honour of God, the salvation of
souls, and the reform of Holy Church, whom I see in so great need! Me
miserable, who am doing quite the contrary! But though I do wrong, dearest
son, I would not that you and the others did; nay, I desire to see you
founded on this Rock. Now the hour is come that proves who is a servant of
God, and whether men shall seek themselves for their own sake, and God for
the private consolation they find in Him, and their neighbours for their
own sake in so far as they see consolations in them--yes, or no, and
whether we are to believe that God may be found only in one place and not
in another. I do not see that this is so--but find that to the true
servant of God every place is the right place and every time is the right
time. So when the time comes to abandon his own consolations and embrace
labours for the honour of God, he does it; and when the time comes to flee
the wood for need of the honour of God, he does it, and betakes him to
public places, as did the blessed St. Antony, who although he supremely
loved solitude, yet deserted it many times to comfort the Christians. And
so I might tell of many other saints. This has always been the habit of
the true servants of God, to emerge in time of need and adversity, but not
in the time of prosperity--nay, that they flee. There is no need to flee
just now, through fear lest our great prosperity make our hearts sail away
in the wind of pride and vainglory; for there is no one who can glory now
otherwise than in labours. But light seems to be failing us, dazzled as we
are by our consolations and the hope we place in special revelations--
things which do not let us know the truth rightly, though we act in good
faith. But God, who is highest and eternal Goodness, gives us perfect and
true light. I enlarge no more on this matter.
It appears, from the letter which Brother William has sent me, that
neither he nor you is coming here. I do not intend to reply to this
letter: but I grieve much over his simplicity, for little honour to God or
edification to his neighbour results from it. For if he is unwilling to
come from humility and fear of forfeiting his peace, he ought to exercise
the virtue of humility, by asking permission from the Vicar of Christ
humbly and with gentleness, entreating his Holiness graciously to permit
him to stay in his wood, for his greater peace, nevertheless, as one truly
obedient, submitting the matter to his will. Thus he would be more
pleasing to God, and would secure his own good. But he seems to have done
just the contrary, alleging that a person who is bound to divine obedience
ought not to obey his fellow-creatures. As to other people, I should care
very little; but that he should include the Vicar of Christ, this does
grieve me much, to see him so discordant with truth. For divine obedience
never prevents us from obedience to the Holy Father: nay, the more perfect
the one, the more perfect is the other. And we ought always to be subject
to his commands and obedient unto death. However indiscreet obedience to
him might seem, and however it should deprive us of mental peace and
consolation, we ought to obey; and I consider that to do the opposite is a
great imperfection, and deceit of the devil. It appears from what he
writes that two servants of God have had a great revelation, to the effect
that Christ on earth, and whoever advised him to send for these servants
of God, followed human and not divine counsel, and that it was rather the
instigation of the devil than the inspiration of God that made them wish
to drag their servants from their peace and consolations: adding that if
you and the others came you would lose your spiritual life, and thus would
be of no help in prayer, and unable to stand by the Holy Father in spirit.
Now really, the spiritual life is quite too lightly held if it is lost by
change of place. Apparently God is an acceptor of places, and is found
only in a wood, and not elsewhere in time of need! Then what shall we say
--we who, on the one hand, wish that the Church of God be reformed, the
thorns uprooted, and the fragrant flowers the servants of God planted
there; and, on the other hand, we are told that to send for them, and drag
them from their mental peace and quiet in order that they may come to help
that little Ship is a wile of the devil? At least, let a man speak for
himself, and not speak of the other servants of God--for among the
servants of the world we are not to count ourselves. Not thus have done
Brother Andrea of Lucca, nor Brother Paolina, those great servants of God,
old men and far from well, who have lived such a long time in their peace:
but at once, with all their weariness and disabilities they put themselves
on the road, and have come, and fulfilled their obedience: and although
desire constrains them to return to their cells, they are not therefore
willing to throw off the yoke, but say: "What I have said, be it unsaid!"
--disregarding their self-will and their personal consolations. One comes
here to endure: not for honours, but for the dignity of many labours, with
tears, vigils and continual prayers; thus should one do. Now let us not
weigh ourselves down with more words. May God by His mercy send us clear
vision, and guide us in the way of truth, and give us true and perfect
light, that we may never walk among shadows. I beg you, you and the
Bachellor, and the other servants of God, to pray the Humble Lamb that He
make me walk in His Way. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. Sweet
Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO QUEEN GIOVANNA OF NAPLES
(WRITTEN IN TRANCE)
Giovanna, recalcitrant, has failed to respond to the entreaties of
Catherine. Her temporary espousal of the cause of Urban has made only more
painful her reversion to the side of Clement. "You see your subjects
pitted against each other like beasts through this unhappy division,"
writes Catherine in another letter. "Oh me! how is it that your heart does
not burst, to endure that they should be divided by you, and one hold to
the white rose and one the red, one to truth and one to falsehood?
Misfortunate my soul! Do you not see that they are all created in that
very pure rose, the eternal will of God, and re-created by grace in that
very burning rose, crimson with the Blood of Christ, in which we were
washed from sin in Baptism? Consider that nor you nor another ever so
bathed them or gave them that glorious rose, but only our Mother, Holy
Church, through the highest Pontiff who holds the keys, Pope Urban VI. How
can your soul bear to take from them that which you cannot give? If this
does not move you, are you not at least moved by the shame into which you
are fallen in the sight of the world? This much more since your change
than before; for lately you confessed the truth and your wrong, and showed
yourself willing to throw yourself like a daughter upon the mercy of your
father; and since then you have wrought worse than ever, whether because
your heart was not pure, and feigned what was not there, or because
justice willed that I should anew do penance for my ancient sins, that I
do not merit to see you in peace and quiet, feeding at the breasts of Holy
Church. It is such a pain to me, that I cannot bear a greater cross in
this life, when I consider the letter which I received from you, in which
you confessed that Pope Urban was the true highest father and priest, and
said that you were willing to be obedient to him, and now I find the
contrary."
In the present letter Catherine pours forth to the yet living woman a
sorrowful elegy over the dead soul. She argues no longer; the political
aspect of the situation is for the time being overshadowed by the grief
with which she contemplates the hardened sin and coming doom of the woman
to whom her heart had from her youth up gone out with an especial
tenderness, and in whom she had hoped at one time to see a true Defender
of the Faith. It will be noticed that she writes in trance. Whatever may
have been the nature of that mysterious state, we may be sure that
thoughts then uttered came from the depths of her being which lie below
consciousness, and we may so gain an additional evidence of the intensity
of her feeling concerning Giovanna.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest mother in Christ sweet Jesus: I, Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood, with
desire to see you compassionate to your own soul and body. For if we are
not merciful to our own souls, the mercy and pity of others would avail us
little. The soul treats itself with great cruelty when of its own accord
it puts the knife with which it can be killed in the hands of its foe. For
our foes have no weapons with which they can hurt us. They would be very
glad to, but they cannot, because will alone can hurt us; and as for the
will, neither demon nor creature can move it, nor force it to one least
fault more than it chooses. So the perverse will which consents to the
malice of our foes is a knife which kills the soul that gives it into the
hand of these foes with its own free choice. Which shall we call the more
cruel--the foes or the very person who receives the blow? It is we who are
more cruel, for we consent to our own death.
We have three chief foes. First, the devil, who is weak if I do not make
him strong by consenting to his malice. He loses his strength in the power
of the Blood of the humble and spotless Lamb. The world with all its
honours and delights, which is our foe, is also weak, save in so far as we
strengthen it to hurt us by possessing these things with intemperate love.
In the gentleness, humility, poverty, in the shame and disgrace of Christ
crucified, this tyrant the world is destroyed. Our third foe, our own
frailty, was made weak; but reason strengthens it by the union which God
has made with our humanity, arraying the Word with our humanity, and by
the death of that sweet and loving Word, Christ crucified. So we are
strong, and our foes are weak.
It is very true, then, that we are more cruel to ourselves than our foes
are. For without our help they cannot kill nor hurt us, since God has not
given them to us that we might be vanquished, but that we might vanquish
them. Then our fortitude and constancy are proved. But I do not see that
we can avoid such cruelty and become merciful without the light of most
holy faith, opening the eye of the mind to behold how displeasing it is to
God and harmful to soul and body, and how pleasing to God and useful to
our salvation is mercy.
Dearest mother--mother I say in so far as I see you to be a faithful
daughter of Holy Church--it seems to me that you have no mercy on
yourself. Oh me! oh me! because I love you I grieve over the evil state of
your soul and body. I would willingly lay down my life to prevent this
cruelty. Many times I have written you in compassion, showing you that
what is shown you for truth is a lie; and the rod of divine justice, which
is ready for you if you do not flee so great wrong. It is a human thing to
sin, but perseverance in sin is a thing of the devil. Oh me! there is none
who tells you the truth, nor do you seek among the servants of God those
who might tell it you, that you should not stay in a state of
condemnation. Oh, how blessed my soul would be could I come into your
parts, and lay down my life to restore to you the good of heaven and the
good of earth; to take from you the knife of cruelty, with which you have
killed yourself, and help to give you that of mercy, which kills vice; so
that you should clothe you in the holy fear of God and love of truth, and
bind you in His sweet will!
Oh me, do not await the time which you are not sure of having! Do not
choose that my eyes should have to shed rivers of tears over your wretched
soul and body--a soul which I hold as my own! If I consider that soul, I
see that it is dead, because separated from its body; it persecutes, not
Pope Urban VI., but our truth and faith. I expected, mother and daughter
mine, as you used to write to me, that through you these should be spread
among the infidels by means of divine grace, and declared and helped among
us, defended when we should see a taint appear, from those who have been
or were contaminated. Now I see quite the contrary appear in you, through
the evil counsel which has been given you for my sins. You have received
it as one merciless toward your salvation; and I see that there will be no
human creature who can restore your loss, but you yourself must render
this account before the highest Judge. You did not offend through
ignorance, not knowing the right, for the truth was shown to you; but you
do not know how to turn back from that which you have begun, because the
knife of perverse and selfish will destroys knowledge and choice, making
you hold that as shame which is your greatest honour. For perseverance in
fault and in such an evil is greatest disgrace, and displays one as a sign
of shame before the eyes of one's fellow-creatures; but to escape from
them is greatest honour; and by honour and the odour of virtue, shame is
escaped and the stench of vice extinguished.
And if I consider your condition as to those temporal and transitory goods
that pass like the wind--you yourself have deprived yourself of them by
right. You have only to receive the last sentence of being deprived of
them by deed, and published a heretic. My heart breaks and cannot break,
from the fear that I have lest the devil so obscure the eye of your mind
that you endure that loss, and such shame and confusion as I should repute
greater than the loss that you would suffer. And you cannot hide it with
saying, "This would be done to me unjustly, and the thing which is
unjustly inflicted casts no shame." That cannot be said; for it would be
done justly, both because of the fault you have committed, and because he
can do it as highest and true pontiff that he is, chosen by the Truth in
truth. For were he not so, you would not have offended. So that it would
be just. But he has refrained from doing this through love, as a benignant
father who waits for his son to correct himself. Yet I fear that he may do
it, constrained by justice, and by your long perseverance in evil. And I
do not say this as one who does not know what she is saying.
And if you said to me, "I do not care about this, for I am strong and
mighty, and I have other lords who will help me, and I know that he is
weak"--I reply to you that he wearies himself in vain who will guard the
city with force and with great zeal, if God guard it not. And can you say
that you have God with you? We cannot say it, for you have put Him against
you for putting yourself against truth; you have put you against Him, and
it is truth that sets him free who holds thereto, and none there is who
can confound it. Therefore you have reason to fear, and not to trust in
your strength and power, had you yet more of them than you have. And he
has reason to comfort his weakness in Christ sweet Jesus, whose place he
holds, trusting in His strength and aid, who shall send him aid from such
a side as we cannot imagine. And you know that if God is for you, none
shall be against you.
Then let us fear God, and tremble beneath the rod of His justice. Let us
correct us, and advance no further. Be merciful to yourself, and you shall
call down the mercy of God upon you. Have compassion on the many souls who
are perishing through you; of whom you will have to render account before
God at the last extremity of death. There is yet healing for us, and time
wherein we can return; and He will receive you with great benignity. I am
sure that if you will be merciful and not cruel to your soul and also to
your body, you will do this, and will have pity upon your subjects: in
otherwise, no. Therefore I said that I desired to see you merciful and not
cruel to your soul. And thus I pray you, through the love of Christ
crucified, that at least you hold and will to be held, the truth which was
announced to you and to the other lords of the world. And if you should
say, "It is still doubtful to me," stay neutral till it is made clear to
you, and do not do what you should not. Desire illumination and counsel
from those whom you see to fear God, and not from members of the devil,
who would counsel you ill in that which they do not hold for themselves.
Fear, fear God, and place Him before your eyes, and think that God sees
you, and His eye is upon you, and His justice wills that every fault be
punished and every good rewarded. Be merciful, ah, be merciful to
yourself! I say naught else to you. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of
God. Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love.
TO BROTHER RAIMONDO
OF THE PREACHING ORDER WHEN HE WAS IN GENOA
In more grievous ways than any yet noted, Catherine was to be wounded in
the house of her friends. The letters already given have shown us how
tenderly intimate, on the human as well as on the spiritual side, were her
relations with the father of her soul, "given her by that sweet mother,
Mary." One shares her affection for good Father Raimondo as one reads the
legend. His figure might well have belonged to the trecento rather than to
the more strenuous age that followed. He was the simplest, the most modest
of men--albeit by no means lacking in homely shrewdness; he was also one
of the least heroic. Catherine, like most uplifted natures, demanded
heroism from those dear to her, as a matter of course. Others wish for
their beloved ease, delights, the gratification of ambition and desire;
Catherine sought for them sorrow, hardships, the opportunity to offer
their lives in exalted sacrifice for the sins of the Church and the world.
She craved for them only less passionately than for herself, the crowning
grace of martyrdom. Now Fra Raimondo had no affinity whatever for
martyrdom. His chance at it came, in the fortunes of those stern times,
and was promptly rejected. Urban, perhaps at Catherine's instigation, had
despatched him to the King of France, and Raimondo had bidden his
spiritual daughter and mother a solemn farewell, surmising doubtless that
he was to see her face no more. He proceeded to the port of Genoa,
planning thence to set sail for France. But the galleys of the antipope
sought to debar the passage; and Raimondo, accepting the obstacle (one
imagines with much ease), allowed himself to give up the expedition.
Catherine wrote him two letters on the matter. The first is brief, and
half-playful in tone: "Oh my naughty father" (_cativello padre mio_) she
says, "How blessed your soul and mine would have been could you have
sealed with your blood a stone in Holy Church! I do wish I could see you
risen above your childishness--see you shed your milk teeth and eat bread,
the mustier the better!" Evidently Raimondo had answered this letter,
writing, one imagines, in a deprecating tone, fearing lest Catherine may
love him the less for his failure, yet after all assuming--so strong is
our expectation of finding our own attitude in our friends--that she will
rejoice in his escape. In this her reply she tells her whole heart.
Surely, few more pathetic revelations of disappointed yet faithful
affection have drifted to us on the tide of the ages. Catherine was at
this time far advanced upon her own Via Dolorosa. One of the stations of
her sorrow had been the parting with her friend: "And you have left me
here, and have gone away with God." Here was another station, marked by a
deeper pain: "Faithful obedience would have done more in the sight of God
and men than all human prudence; my sins have prevented me from seeing it
in you." With a glad suffering she had given Raimondo up to the service of
God; with a suffering that was bitterly shamed, she saw him false to his
calling. She utters no vain reproaches. In her own way she begins with
earnest self-accusations, and proceeds to comfort the weakness of the man
who should have been her guide with tender and subtly-reasoned assurances
of her unchanged affection. At the same time she does not flinch from
uncondoning, scathing statement of his sin and of her disillusion.
Considerate, delicate, even courteous to a degree, the letter yet reveals
in every line the sense of solitude which the action of Raimondo had
caused her. There is no rebellion in her spirit: "I hold me none the less
in peace, because I am certain that nothing happens without mystery," she
sighs. But we grieve with a new, awestruck perception of the loneliness of
her great soul, as we realize that to Raimondo was to be given perforce
her deepest confidence in the passion upon which she was even now
entering.
In the Name of Jesus Christ crucified and of sweet Mary:
Dearest father in Christ sweet Jesus: I Catherine, servant and slave of
the servants of Jesus Christ, write to you in His precious Blood: with
desire to see in you the light of most holy faith. This is a light which
shows us the way of truth, and without it no activity, or desire, or work
of ours would come to fruition, or to the end for which we began it; but
everything would become imperfect--slow we should be in the love of God
and of our neighbour. This is the reason: seemingly love is as great as
faith, and faith is as great as love. He who loves is always faithful to
him whom he loves, and faithfully serves him till death. By this I
perceive that in truth I do not love God, nor the creatures through God:
for if in truth I loved Him, I should be faithful in such wise that I
should give myself to death a thousand times a day, were it needful and
possible, for the glory and praise of His Name, and faith would not fail
me, since for the love of God and of virtue and of Holy Church I should
set myself to endure. So I should believe that God was my help and my
defender, as He was of those glorious martyrs who went with gladness to
the place of martyrdom. Were I faithful I should not fear, but I should
hold for sure that the same God is for me who was for them; and His power
to provide for my necessities is not weakened as to capacity, knowledge,
or will. But because I do not love, I do not really trust myself to Him,
but the sensuous fear in me shows me that love is lukewarm, and the light
of faith is darkened by faithlessness toward my Creator, and by trusting
in myself. I confess and deny not that this root of evil is not yet
uprooted from my soul, and therefore those works are hindered which God
wants to do or puts in my way, so that they do not reach the lucid and
fruitful end for which God had them begun. Ah me, ah me, my Lord! Woe to
me miserable! And shall I find myself thus every time, in every place, and
in every state? Shall I always close with my faithlessness the way to Thy
providence? Yes, truly, if indeed Thou by Thy mercy do not unmake me, and
make me anew. Then, Lord, unmake me, and break the hardness of my heart,
that I be not a tool which spoils Thy works!
And I beg you, dearest father, to pray earnestly that I and you both
together may drown ourselves in the Blood of the humble Lamb, which will
make us strong and faithful. We shall feel the fire of the divine charity:
we shall be co-workers with His grace, and not undoers or spoilers of it.
So we shall show that we are faithful to God, and trust in His help, and
not in our knowledge nor in that of men.
With this same faith we shall love the creature; for as love of the
neighbour proceeds from love of God, so with faith, in general and in
particular; as there is a general faith corresponding to the love which we
ought to feel in general to every creature, so there is a special faith
belonging to those who love one another more intimately: like this, which
beyond the common love has established between us two a close particular
love, a love which faith manifests. So much love does it manifest that it
cannot believe nor imagine that one of us wishes anything else than the
other's good; and it believes earnestly, for it seeks this with great
insistence in the sight of God and men, seeking ever in the other the
glory of the name of God and the profit of his soul; constraining Divine
Help, that as it adds burdens it may add fortitude and long perseverance.
Such faith bears he who loves, and never lessens it for any reason,
neither for speech of man nor illusion of the devil, nor change of place.
If anyone does otherwise, it is a sign that he loves God and his neighbour
imperfectly.
Apparently, as I understood by your letter, many diverse battles befell
you, and troubled reflections, through the deceit of the devil and through
your own sensuous passion, it seeming to you that a burden was imposed on
you greater than you can bear. You did not seem to yourself strong enough
for me to measure you with my measure, and on this account you were in
doubt lest my affection and love to you were diminished. But you did not
see aright, and it was you who showed that I had grown to love more, and
you less; for with the love with which I love myself, with that I love
you, in the lively faith that all which is lacking on your part, God will
complete by His goodness. But this is not done yet, for you have known how
to find ways to throw your load down to earth. You present us many scraps
of excuses to cover up your faithless frailty, but not in such wise that I
do not see it quite enough now, and good it will seem to me if it is not
perceived by anyone but me. Yes, yes, I show you a love increased in me
toward you, and not waning. But what shall I say? How could your ignorance
give place to one of the least of those thoughts? Could you ever believe
that I wished anything else than the life of your soul? Where is the faith
that you always used to have and ought to have, and the certainty that you
have had, that before a thing is done, it is seen and determined in the
sight of God--not only this, which is so great a deed, but every least
thing? Had you been faithful, you would not have gone about vacillating
so, nor fallen into fear toward God and toward me; but like a faithful
son, ready for obedience, you would have gone and done what you could. And
if you could not have gone upright, you would have gone on all fours; if
you could not have gone as a Frate, you would have gone as a pilgrim; if
there is no money for us, one would have gone begging. This faithful
obedience would have accomplished more in the sight of God and in the
hearts of men than all human prudences. My sins have prevented me from
seeing it in you.
Nevertheless I am quite sure, that although selfish passion was there, you
yet had and have holy and good regard to fulfil better the will of God and
that of Christ on earth, Pope Urban VI. Not that I would have had you
stay, though; nay, but take to the road at once, in whatever fashion and
by whatever way had been open to you. Day and night I was constrained by
God concerning many other things also; which, through the carelessness of
him who has to do them, but chiefly through my sins which hinder every
good, are all coming to nothing. And thus, ah me! we see ourselves
drowning, and offences against God increasing, with many torments; and I
live in an agony of delay. May God, in His mercy, soon take me from this
life of shadows!
We see in the kingdom of Naples that this last disaster is worse than the
first; and so many evils are likely to happen there, that may God remedy
them! But He in His pity showed the disaster, and the remedies that ought
to be applied. But, as I said, the abundance of my faults hinders all
good. I shall have a great deal to say to you about these matters, should
I not receive the greatest grace, that of release from earth before I see
you again.
Yes, as I say, I do entirely wish that you had gone. Nevertheless I hold
me in peace, because I am certain that nothing happens without mystery;
and also because I unburdened my conscience, doing what I could that a
messenger should be sent to the King of France. May the clemency of the
Holy Spirit achieve it! For we by ourselves are bad workmen.
As for going quickly to the King of Hungary, it is clear that the Holy
Father would be well enough pleased, and he had planned that you should go
with other companions. Now, I do not know why, he has changed his mind,
and wishes you to stay where you are, and do what good you can. I beg you
to be zealous about it.
Abandon yourself, and every personal pleasure and consolation; and let
turfs be thrown upon those who are dead, and with the cords of humble
desire and holy prayer let the hands of divine justice be bound, the
devil, and fleshly appetite. We are offered dead in the garden of Holy
Church, and to Christ on earth, the lord of that garden. Then let us do
the works of the dead. The dead man does not see nor hear nor feel. Be
strong to slay yourself with the knife of hate and love, that you may not
hear the derision, the insults, the reproaches of the world, which the
persecutors of Holy Church would offer you. Let not your eyes see things
as impossible to do, nor the torment that may follow; but let them see
with the light of faith that through Christ crucified you can do all
things, and that God will not impose a greater burden than can be borne.
Why, we are to rejoice in great burdens, because then God gives us the
gift of fortitude. With the love of endurance, fleshly sensitiveness is
lost; and thus dead, dead, we may nourish ourselves in this garden. When I
see this, I shall account my soul as blessed. I tell you, sweetest father,
that whether we will or no, the times to-day summon us to die. Then be no
more alive! End pains in pain, and increase the joy of holy desire in the
pain; that our life may pass no otherwise than in crucified desire, and
that we may give our bodies willingly to be eaten by beasts; that is, for
the love of virtue let us willingly fling ourselves upon the tongues and
hands of bestial men, as did those others who have worked, dead, in this
sweet garden, and watered it with their blood, but first with their tears
and sweats. And I--(grievous my life!)--because I have not given enough
water to it, was refused permission to give it my blood. I will it to be
no more thus, but be our life renewed and the fire of desire increased!
You ask me to pray the Divine Goodness to give you the fire of Vincent, of
Lawrence, and of sweet Paul, and that of the charming John--saying that
then you will do great things. And so I shall be glad. Surely I say the
truth, that without this fire you would not do anything, neither little
nor big, nor should I be glad in you.
Therefore, considering that it is so, and that I have seen it proved, an
impulse has grown in me, with great zeal in the sweet sight of God. Were
you near me in the body, truly I would show you that it is so, and would
give you other than words. I rejoice, and I want you to rejoice; for,
since this desire grows, He will fulfil it in you and me, because He
accepts holy and true desires; provided that you open the eye of your mind
in the light of holiest faith, that you may know the truth of the will of
God. Knowing it you will love it, and loving it you will be faithful, and
your heart will not be overshadowed by any wile of the devil. Being
faithful, you will do every great thing in God: what He puts into your
hands will be fulfilled perfectly; that is, it will not be hindered on
your part from coming to perfection. With this light you will be cautious,
modest, and weighty in speech and conversation and in all your works and
way; but without it you would do quite the contrary in your ways and
habits, and everything else would turn out contrary for you.
So, knowing that this is the case, I desired to see in you the light of
most holy faith; and so I want you to have it. And because I want this,
and love you immeasurably for your salvation, and desire with great desire
to see you in the state of the perfect, therefore I pray you with many
words--but I would do so more willingly in deed; and I use reproaches with
you, in order that you may return continually to yourself. I have done my
best, and I shall do so, to make you assume the burden of the perfect for
the honour of God, and ask His goodness to make you reach the last state
of perfection; that is, to shed your blood for Holy Church, whether your
servant the flesh will it or no. Lose you in the Blood of Christ
crucified, and bear my faults and words with good patience. And whenever
your faults may be shown you, rejoice, and thank the Divine Goodness,
which has assigned someone to labour over you, who watches for you in His
sight.
As to what you write me, that antichrist and his members seek diligently
to have you, do not fear; for God is strong to take away their light and
their force, that they may not fulfil their desires. Beside, you ought to
think that you are not worthy of so great a good, and so you need not
fear. Take confidence; for sweet Mary and the Truth will be for you
always.
I, vile slave, who am placed in the Field, where blood was shed for the
love of Blood--(and you have left me here, and gone away with God)--shall
never pause from working for you. I beg you so to do that you give me no
matter for mourning, nor for shaming me in the sight of God. As you are a
man in promising the will to do and bear for the honour of God, do not
then turn into a woman when we come to the shutting of the lock; for I
should appeal against you to Christ crucified and to Mary. Beware lest it
happen later to you as to the abbot of St. Antimo, who, through fear and
under colour of not tempting God, left Siena and came to Rome, supposing
that he had escaped his prison and was safe; and he was thrown into
prison, with the punishment that you know. So are pusillanimous hearts
cured. Be, then, be all a man: that death may be granted you.
I beg you to pardon me whatever I might have said that was not honour to
God and due reverence to yourself: let love excuse it. I say no more to
you. Remain in the holy and sweet grace of God. I ask your benediction.
Sweet Jesus, Jesus Love!